One must atone for their sins. But the punishment isn’t for loving someone. The debt Kasha had to pay was for the sin of betraying the one he loved. Even if the world cursed him and despised his love, it remained what it was—love. Love was never a sin. And so, he would bear the burden. Since he was the one who began it all, he would take responsibility for it.

Kasha lowered his gaze with a faint, melancholic smile. Though his expression had softened, the determination in his eyes was undeniable. Even Rodin, who had been about to argue further, couldn’t bring himself to say more. Kasha was a person who always saw things through. He would do whatever it took, using any means necessary, to pursue what he deemed right. He was someone who appeared cold but burned with passion, who seemed soft yet possessed an unyielding strength. He could bend but would never break. Such was Kasha, the master of Le Blueme Pavilion.

After a prolonged silence, Elsen, who had been quietly listening beside Rodin, finally spoke.

“Kasha, I don’t know what’s going on, but… it’d be better if I went. Since this all started because of me, I should take responsibility. There’s no reason for you to share my burden.”

Kasha looked at him and smiled faintly at his earnest words. These friends of his had never changed. Perhaps he was lucky in that way. Ruth, Rodin, Elsen—all those who had been with him since childhood still viewed the world with the same untainted eyes. In this world, there were people who never changed, who retained the pure, steadfast perspective and affection they had in their youth. To someone as twisted as he was, such people were heaven’s blessings. That’s why he wanted to protect them—Vera and his friends.

“Elsen, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to involve yourself any further. You’re a victim in all this too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Exactly what I said. You’ve been unfairly blamed for something you didn’t do. That young lady too. Sure, it might’ve been better if she could’ve become crown princess, but at least she didn’t end up married to that vicious brat. Consider that a blessing. Anyway, from now on, you don’t need to worry about anything.”

“But—”

“No more arguments. I decide everything. You’ll manage Le Bleume Pavilion with Rodin until I return.”

Kasha knew he wouldn’t return. Yet he was still leaving because he understood that staying wouldn’t prolong his life by much either. If he didn’t act, assassins would eventually come for him. Both “he” and “his father” were done being patient.

Elsen and Rodin fell silent, overwhelmed by Kasha’s resolute authority. It was clear that arguing further would be futile. Kasha had always been like this—stubbornly ignoring others’ advice, doing what he wasn’t supposed to, and avoiding what he was told to do. But more than anything, the two believed that Kasha was never wrong.

Despite his seeming recklessness and volatility, Kasha was brave and had a precise sense of justice when it mattered most. It was this quality that inspired loyalty in everyone around him. This was also why Kasha effectively ruled Vera, a place with no established political system. He spent significant money hiring mercenaries to maintain order, educated abandoned children to form a self-governing military force, and taught women skills like jewelry-making and tailoring to give them choices in life. He even established homes where courtesans could raise their children safely, setting rules to protect them from exploitative pimps. All of this stemmed from Kasha’s deep love for Vera, and because of it, no one dared defy him—neither the locals nor outsiders.

He was never wrong. Though he might ignore advice, he always made the right decisions and had the ability to see them through. That was why Elsen and Rodin chose to trust him. If it was Kasha’s decision, they could rely on it.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Kasha said. “For now, Rodin, you’ll take charge of managing this place. Elsen, handle the prayer services. And as for the young lady—surely she can do basic arithmetic?”

At Kasha’s pointed question, Erita bristled and snapped back.

“Of course, I can!”

“Then handle the ledger. If anything significant comes up, ask Mother for help. For now, I’ll deal with those troublesome royal brats. This is why I can’t stand kids—arrogant little brats.”

Kasha clicked his tongue, cursing a few absent parties under his breath when a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Kasha, Lord Chelin is here,” called a boy from outside.

Kasha stood and replied, “Got it.”

Straightening his attire and smoothing his hair one last time, Kasha turned to the others with a seductive smile. Bowing his head slightly, he had transformed in an instant into the demeanor of a coquettish courtesan. Erita let out an audible gasp at the sudden change.

“Rodin, tell them what they need to do,” Kasha said, his voice now smooth and soft. With that, he walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out. His steps were measured, graceful, and almost arrogant in their elegance. Watching him move with cat-like precision, Erita suddenly exclaimed, “Ah.”

“What’s wrong?” Elsen asked.

“Ah… Commander Ruth Kaizel walked like that too, didn’t he? I remember thinking his quiet steps didn’t quite suit a knight, but… this is what it felt like.”

Ruth’s gait, of course, had been less arrogant and more refined, but their movements bore a striking resemblance—light, elegant, and deliberate. It was rare even for women to walk with such grace. As Erita murmured her surprise, Rodin offered an explanation instead of Elsen.

“They grew up together, after all. Ruth must’ve picked it up here without realizing.”

“But Elsen doesn’t walk like that,” Erita said, unconvinced.

Rodin laughed, pointing between himself and Elsen. “Come on, lady, think about it. Do you think Elsen and I were trained to walk like that? Ruth and Kasha were raised to be sold off as commodities the moment they turned thirteen. Ruth was lucky enough to leave for Karileum at ten and avoid that fate.”

Erita tilted her head, confused. “So Kasha started… selling himself at thirteen?”

“Of course. You think courtesans can afford to raise their kids properly? Most get abandoned at birth, and even if they’re kept, they’re cast out by thirteen. Staying here meant selling their bodies. That’s the path he chose. Still, Kasha was lucky. His mother owned Le Bleume Pavilion, so he didn’t have to sell himself, but he insisted—it wouldn’t have been fair otherwise. He took over the place at nineteen. Since then, he’s only dealt with high-profile clients.”

“Thirteen…” Erita murmured, unable to fully grasp the weight of it. She found herself wondering what she had been doing at that age.

“That’s just the reality for kids born here,” Rodin said matter-of-factly. “Kasha sold his body, and now he runs this place. But because he’s been through it, there’s a lot he can’t tolerate. Selling your body for money sometimes means enduring all kinds of depravity, including crazy clients.”

Erita fell silent for a moment before quietly asking, “Is that why his personality is the way it is?”

Kasha’s blunt and often abrasive nature, combined with his strange ability to shift personas so easily, made her wonder. Rodin answered without hesitation.

“No. He’s always been like that.”

Even as a child, Kasha could be endlessly generous when he felt like it, only to turn ferocious the moment he was upset. His personality was innate. The only person Kasha had ever been consistently kind to was Ruth. Even if it wasn’t romantic, Kasha cherished Ruth more than anyone, treating him with care and devotion from a young age. Unlike how he dealt with others, Kasha handled Ruth as if he were a precious jewel.

If Elsen had been in Ruth’s position now, Kasha likely wouldn’t have risked heading to Karileum.

“Well, let’s get to work,” Rodin said, rising and stretching before heading toward the desk. “If we drag our feet, all three of us will get chewed out. That guy’s scarier than a ghost when he’s mad.”

—

It had been a week since Ruth had been confined to the Northern Palace, a place devoid of visitors. While the royal palace buzzed with activity for Ail’s coming-of-age ceremony, the Northern Palace remained eerily silent. It felt lifeless, utterly devoid of vitality.

Having skipped meals all day, Ruth wandered along the lakeshore in the palace garden, ignoring the knights assigned to watch him. Sitting by the lake, he picked up a small stone and tossed it into the water. Ripples spread across the tranquil surface.

Ail hadn’t visited the Northern Palace since that day. Ruth felt relieved, yet a hollow ache lingered in his chest. No one spoke to him here. Aside from Meril, who occasionally chatted and tended to him on Ail’s orders, the knights avoided addressing him altogether. The silence was oppressive, the atmosphere lifeless. In this suffocating quiet, Ruth felt as though he were slowly sinking.

Abandoned and imprisoned.

Falling into the abyss, losing his resolve and emotions, dying a slow death.

Was this what his mother had felt?

Stripped of her freedom, wings clipped, and left to wither away.

He recalled her back from the day he joined the knightly order—once vibrant and cunning, now devoid of freedom and love. She had sat listlessly, gazing out the window.

Men’s possessiveness was an ugly thing. They desired to own but didn’t know how to love. The moment they acquired what they sought, they grew indifferent and neglected it. A caught fish gets no bait.

Of course, his mother’s situation differed from his. She had once been loved by his father, which led to his and Leia’s births. That love had prompted her to accept his father’s proposal. But Ruth… he was bound to Ail for reasons he didn’t even understand. Ail had captured him simply because he had defied him and acted on his own will.

He had no idea what the other man was thinking. To be honest, he didn’t want to know. Clearly, there was some kind of purpose behind his capture. That man wasn’t someone who would go through such trouble over mere anger. There had to be another motive. He would never engage in something so cumbersome without a reason.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Ruth let out a self-mocking smile.

Without realizing it, he himself was becoming like him—distrustful of people, doubting others’ true intentions, trying to probe into their thoughts. He no longer believed what others said at face value. Words and actions alone weren’t enough for him to trust anyone. Yet, despite it all, he laughed.

Everything just felt hollow and bitter.

He could still feel the sensation of that man’s hands around his throat. Recalling that moment made him laugh again, like a madman, the sound dry and empty. His pride had taken a severe hit. After all, the loyal dog who once obeyed him had bitten back—it was no wonder he was furious.

A fleeting thought crossed Ruth’s mind: perhaps it would have been better to die that day. If he had died then, he wouldn’t have to endure this cruel, lonely existence. He could have died content, knowing he had defied that man’s will. At least he wouldn’t be here now, helplessly trapped, unable to lift a finger, slowly tortured by this endless despair.

While Ruth gazed blankly at the lake, lost in thought, Meril returned to the Northern Palace. Dressed impeccably in his white ceremonial uniform, Meril’s appearance reminded Ruth once again that today was Ail’s coming-of-age ceremony.

If everything had gone according to plan, Ruth should have been preparing to leave in a few days, ready to escort his mother back to Vera. But all those plans had crumbled to dust. His dreams were shattered, thanks to Ail.

And all for a ridiculous reason—simply because he had defied him.

“Lord Ruth, His Highness is busy today and won’t be able to visit. Please head inside and rest.”

For the past week, without Ruth asking, Meril had made it a point to visit Ail each night to inquire where he would be spending the evening and then relay the answer to Ruth. Ruth had told him it was unnecessary, but Meril insisted, traveling the considerable distance each night just to deliver this information.

“Enough. He won’t come anyway, so there’s no need for you to trouble yourself like that.”

He wouldn’t seek Ruth out anytime soon. With nothing more to gain from him, there was no reason for Ail to come. Or perhaps, just once, he might visit—to gloat, to torment the pitiful dog he had trapped.

And he would mock him. He would scrutinize him, savoring every detail, taking pleasure in his suffering.

“Take some rest,” Meril urged again.

“Fine.”

The Northern Palace was the only place Ruth was allowed to roam now. Unable to venture beyond its confines, even wandering its grounds had grown tiresome.