Ruth slowly rose from his seat, dusting off his thin summer clothes, and began walking toward the building with Meril.

The clear moonlight faintly illuminated Ruth’s shoulders. His frail-looking back, as if it might collapse at any moment, prompted Meril to speak cautiously.
“The Northern Palace is quiet, isn’t it? It’s probably even quieter because there’s no traffic of people here.”

Meril spoke in an attempt to lighten Ruth’s mood, but Ruth replied indifferently.
“Yes.”

“Um, should I perhaps request an audience with His Highness for you? He’s been so busy that he hasn’t been resting properly, but I’m sure he’d be happy if you visited. You might feel better if you leave the Northern Palace for a while. And just catching a glimpse of you would certainly bring His Highness joy.”

“He won’t allow it. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

If he were someone who would let Ruth leave the Northern Palace so easily, he wouldn’t have stationed so many knights to guard the place. In the past week, the only people Ruth had seen were Meril and the knights. Beyond them, not even a single mouse had crossed his path. It was worse than being locked in an iron cage.

Walking quietly past the garden and entering the building, Ruth headed straight to his room, climbed onto the bed, and drank the tea Meril had prepared for him. He then lay down and pulled the blanket over himself. He could barely eat, and he hadn’t been able to sleep properly. The tea Meril procured was the only thing that allowed him to close his eyes at all. Though even then, waking up left him with a heavier head and a foul mood. Still, there was nothing else to do in this place but sleep.

It was just lonely. The kind of loneliness that felt like it was slowly killing him.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind—it would be better to die like this. With that thought, Ruth drifted into a deep sleep.

A cold hand touched him.

The hand grazed his cheek, then stroked his hair. It lightly brushed his shoulder, trembling faintly.

The touch was so tender, it made his chest ache.

Ruth tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but his eyelids felt too heavy to lift. Though his mind was awake, his body was asleep—a side effect of the tea Meril had given him.

“…Yazhi… no choice…”

Fragmented words murmured softly, the voice delicate, as fragile as the tender movements of the hand. Ruth wanted to reach out, to take the hand and tell them it was okay. Whatever was causing their pain, he wanted to reassure them that everything would be fine.

But he couldn’t move. Not even a single finger.

In the silence, the person took Ruth’s right hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, whispering:
“Just being by your side is enough. I won’t ask for more…”

The voice sounded familiar.

It was a voice he knew very well.

“Yes… that’s enough…”

With a final sigh that resembled a lament, the person began to fade away.

Ruth wanted to tell them not to leave, but he couldn’t stop them.

He wanted to ask why they were so sad, to comfort them, but his body wouldn’t move.

He couldn’t reach them.
He couldn’t do anything.

“Lord Ruth.”

Startled by the sudden voice, Ruth opened his eyes to find Meril looking at him with concern.

“Ah…”

Ruth let out a hollow sound and blinked. Meril, seeing his state, handed him a glass of water.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Taking the glass, Ruth drank it down in one go, his throat parched. At some point, the sun had risen. It was broad daylight. Running his hand through his hair, now damp with sweat, Ruth asked Meril in a hollow voice:

“…Did anyone come into my room last night?”

The sensation had been too real to be a dream. It couldn’t have been.

Ruth asked on the off chance, but Meril shook his head.

“No one came. The only one with access to this palace is His Highness, but he went straight to the Golden Palace late last night.”

At Meril’s answer, Ruth let out a breath, deflated. As Meril said, the only one who could enter this palace was Ail. But there was no reason for him to visit this quiet place in the dead of night just to see Ruth.

Besides, that touch and that voice could never have been his. Ail was not someone who would express such earnest emotions. Nor was he someone who would plead like that.

“Yeah, I must have had a nightmare.”
“Shall I prepare some food?”
“No. I don’t feel like eating right now.”
“Please try to eat even a little.”

Meril looked at Ruth with pity, knowing he couldn’t sleep without medicine and barely managed one meal a day. Despite how tiresome it must have been, Meril consistently encouraged Ruth to eat and meticulously kept track of Ail’s movements. Touched by Meril’s dedication, Ruth eventually relented, his tone softening.

“Prepare something… in about an hour.”

At this, Meril let out a small sigh of relief.
“Yes, I’ll have it ready then. Please rest a bit more in the meantime.”
“Alright.”

After Meril quietly left the room, Ruth got up from the bed and walked to the window. The blazing sun filled the garden outside, radiating oppressive heat. It was so stifling that it felt as though his mind might unravel under the weight of it.

His head throbbed intensely. The lack of proper nourishment and reliance on medication for sleep had left his body heavy and his mind clouded, as if permanently shrouded in fog. He could no longer think clearly or make sound judgments. Even the boundaries between dreams and reality were becoming blurred.

Last night’s memory, too, seemed to have been a dream.

The trembling hand, the anguished voice—those were all just figments of a dream.

Yes, a dream.

There was no way Ail would plead with him in such a voice.

He knew that. Deep down, he understood. It was merely a reflection of his own desires manifesting in his dreams. If Ail were to hold onto him like that, to beg him with such sorrowful eyes, Ruth knew he would surrender everything to him in the end.

If Ail wanted him, he would do anything.

That was why he had dreamed such a dream. Because he wanted Ail to desire him, to hope—just for a moment—that Ail might want him, too. That perhaps, in taking him, Ail had at least partially desired him.

But it was all a hollow dream.

A meaningless illusion born only in his own mind. Just… a sad, lonely dream.

“Still sleeping?”

After the coming-of-age ceremony, Ail had begun overseeing imperial affairs in earnest. He sat in the Emperor’s office, listening to Meril’s report. Recently, though, the only updates he’d been getting were that Ruth was sleeping again. Without eating, without doing much of anything, just sleeping.

A bitter smile tugged at Ail’s lips as he thought he understood what Ruth was feeling. Meril cautiously continued.
“It seems he’s feeling lonely. For someone who was so active in the Order of Knights, being confined to a room must feel stifling and exhausting.”

Meril’s explanation was reasonable, but to Ail, it looked like an act of defiance. No, it was clearly a protest, no matter how one looked at it. While it could be explained as lethargy brought on by a lack of activity, the emotional reasons behind it were far stronger. Ail knew exactly what Ruth wanted from him but refused to grant it.

That one thing—he would never give.

This was why Ail avoided meeting Ruth face-to-face. If they did, the conversation would inevitably escalate into conflict. Ail didn’t want to deal with that, so he was keeping his distance as much as possible.

Sensing Ail’s unease, Merrill carefully voiced what he had been meaning to say.
“And… last night, he asked if anyone had visited his room.”

Ail’s gaze wavered ever so slightly. Noticing the reaction, Meril quickly averted his eyes and continued in a subdued tone.
“He seemed unsure if it was a dream or reality, so I told him no one had been there… But perhaps, Your Highness, if you could spare just a moment to visit him, it might help. Ruth is lonely…”

At Meril’s cautious suggestion, Ail silently stared down at the desk.

Yes, it was true that he had visited Ruth the previous night. In fact, not just the previous night—every night, he visited Ruth while he slept. Ail had made sure to instruct Meril and the knights to remain absolutely silent about it.

Each night, once Ruth had taken his medicine and fallen into a deep sleep, Ail would quietly enter his room. Only in those moments of unconsciousness could Ail feel at ease touching him—brushing against his hair, holding his hand.

He couldn’t bring himself to visit Ruth while he was awake. He feared what would happen if they broached the subjects neither of them wanted to confront. Their desires were diametrically opposed: Ail wanted to keep Ruth by his side at all costs, while Ruth was determined to leave.

There was no compromise. Unless one of them gave in completely, there could be no resolution. And Ail knew neither of them would yield.

What Ruth needed was time. No, more than time for himself, Ruth needed time to come to terms with reality—to accept it and eventually settle down. Until then, Ail had to give him space to process.

The memory of their last confrontation flashed vividly in Ail’s mind. Ruth, uncharacteristically screaming, hurling words of contempt and rage. Ail couldn’t forget it.

He had never thought of Ruth as someone so intense. In truth, he had underestimated him. He’d assumed that even if Ruth resisted at first, he would eventually accept reality and adapt. Ruth was quiet, calm, and persistent, yet willing to compromise when needed. Ail had taken it for granted that things would turn out fine.

Perhaps that was why he was reluctant to see Ruth now.

Seeing someone so inherently gentle fiercely asserting his will, determined to leave with such passion—it terrified Ail. It made him all too aware of just how much Ruth longed to escape Karileum.

But Ail couldn’t let him go.

Ruth, however, seemed equally unwilling to abandon his resolve. That wouldn’t change.

In the four years he had watched Ruth, Ail had come to understand the depth of his determination. Ruth had faithfully upheld a promise Ail never intended to honor. Ruth was rigid in his principles, steadfast in seeing through what he had committed to.

Ail knew this unyielding determination was part of who Ruth was.

He was the one who first recognized and exploited that part of Ruth’s character. But now, that very trait had become an obstacle. It was a trap of his own making. He had ensnared himself in the net he had cast.

If he were to face Ruth now, the first thing Ruth would say would undoubtedly be that he wanted to leave. Perhaps he would even raise his voice and demand to be let go. Ruth would argue that Ail had no right to control him, glare at him with venomous eyes, and declare that just the sight of Ail disgusted him so much that he needed to leave this place.

No, perhaps anger or yelling would be easier to bear. What Ail feared most was Ruth’s disdain and loathing—the cold way he would avoid eye contact and express quiet contempt. He didn’t want to see that. If Ruth were to look at him again and say the same words he had said before, Ail wasn’t sure he could endure it.

What terrified him most was not Ruth’s rejection, but the possibility that he might resort to violence again because he couldn’t accept it. He could still vividly feel the moment he had gripped Ruth’s neck, trying to choke the life out of him. He had thought that even if he had to kill Ruth, it would be fine as long as it meant keeping him close. But it wasn’t fine.

The memory of Ruth, pale and lifeless, gasping for air, filled him with a fear he never wanted to experience again. It wasn’t the thought of hurting Ruth that scared him—it was the idea of being hurt himself.

In his 18 years of life, he had faced death countless times, enduring the naked hostility and killing intent of others. Yet, even when his life hung by a thread, he had never felt fear. He acknowledged that he was devoid of normal emotions.

Even as a child, confronted by assassins, he hadn’t been afraid. Fear was simply not something he had the capacity for. All he had ever known was his ambition for the continent and the relentless drive to fulfill that ambition. Nothing else mattered—not even his own family.

But in the moment he thought Ruth might die, Ail had felt fear for the first time. The icy sensation crawling up his spine, the paralysis that gripped his body, the tremor in his fingertips—he didn’t want to feel that ever again. Not now, not ever.

“Forget it. Leave it alone.”

After a long silence, Ail finally rejected Meril’s suggestion to let Ruth out of the northern palace, even for a short while. Meril, knowing Ail’s resolute nature, quietly left the room without further argument. With a final bow, Meril departed, and Ail leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

Everything was going better than expected. The coming-of-age ceremony had been completed without incident, and the psychological warfare against Lyman Kaizel was showing promising results. While the search for Erita and Elsen continued, Ail no longer cared about their fates.

The evidence was damning enough. The engagement with Erita had been annulled, and once he announced Salina as his fiancée, minor issues would resolve themselves. With that, he could appoint his uncle as the chancellor, gain the Astro family’s powerful backing in the political arena, and use that influence to secure control of the Virel region. From there, he could use the land as a base to launch an offensive on Vera and expand his reach to the ends of the continent.

Everything was proceeding according to plan. He would first solidify his position in Karileum, then gradually extend his territory toward Clozium. That was the dream he had harbored since childhood—his one and only aspiration. To become not just the Emperor of Karileum, but the conqueror of the entire continent, immortalized in history.

Having been born with everything Karileum had to offer already in his grasp, the country itself held no appeal. What he wanted was to reach further, to fight for and claim what had not been given to him. That struggle, that victory, was what defined his existence.

But now, all of it seemed to lose its luster. The brilliant dreams that had once illuminated his mind now appeared faded, their light dimming and vanishing like smoke.

It wasn’t that his ambition had disappeared, nor had he given up. It was just that, at this moment, he couldn’t stop thinking about Ruth.

Even though Ruth was right there, tied to him, out of the way, and unable to leave, Ail couldn’t shake the unease. Ruth was tethered, yet it felt as if at any moment, he might spread his wings and vanish.

Or worse, he might shatter.

He might break into pieces and be swept away by the wind.

And if that happened, it would undoubtedly be Ail’s doing.

That was why he couldn’t face Ruth now. Not yet.

Because, for now, Ruth was still necessary to him. And for now, he didn’t want Ruth to crumble and disappear.