But right now, Ail was desperate. Even though he knew it was a fight he was bound to lose, he had to charge in and capture him. His survival depended on this. And he was certain of something: his belief that Ruth would never harm him. Ail believed that, even though he could hurt Ruth, Ruth would never strike him with his sword.

He couldn’t even kill a small bird. And the habits ingrained in his body over the last four years were unavoidable.

As Ail’s movements grew quicker, Ruth responded by blocking his sword strikes faster, pushing Kasha behind him. Ail’s sword was fast and heavy. Each time their swords clashed, Ruth felt the impact in his hand, making his arm throb. Ail fought as if he had resolved to die. For a moment, Ruth wondered if it was worth it, but as Ail’s sword struck deeper, Ruth instinctively turned his body to evade the blow, allowing Ail to force his way behind Ruth.

In that split second, Ruth realized his mistake. Evading the sword aimed at his body was something he was used to, but he had unwittingly moved away from Kasha. Just as Ruth was about to react in surprise, Ail seized the opportunity and struck at Kasha. Ruth barely managed to stretch his arm and block Ail’s diagonal slash from above.

The clash of their swords echoed. A shiver ran from his fingertips. For a moment, both men stood still.

They both breathed heavily, sweat dripping down their foreheads. With one arm, Ruth blocked the strike and whispered to Ail.

“Stop this.”

“Move.”

“If you harm Kasha, I won’t stand idly by. Please, don’t hurt him.”

Ruth spoke through heavy breaths, and Ail murmured in sadness.

“I’m sick of the pain you’ve caused. I don’t care if I get hurt here.”

With his arm still pressing on Ruth’s sword, Ail twisted and pushed it aside. Ruth, who had been holding his ground with one arm, was forced back by Ail’s strength. In that moment, Ail once again tried to strike Kasha with his sword.

Ruth’s instincts reacted quickly. Before he even processed the situation, his body moved on its own. His right arm, without waiting for his brain’s command, swiftly slashed downward at Ail’s arm.

With a loud clang, Ail’s sword fell to the floor. Blood began to drip from his arm. The bright white ceremonial clothing was soaked in deep red blood. The blood, darker and more intense than his hair, dripped slowly from Ail’s arm to the floor. But what hurt Ruth more than the sight of Ail’s blood was the look in his eyes.

Ail’s golden eyes were clouded with blood. His sclera turned a shade of red as veins burst in his eyes. Despair, frustration, and anger flickered in his gaze, as if he couldn’t believe the reality unfolding before him. His pupils trembled with disbelief.

His eyes were filled with resentment, and at the same time, an overwhelming depth of despair.

The brilliance of his golden eyes shattered. They scattered like broken jewels in that very moment.

Ruth couldn’t understand why Ail had that look on his face. Why did he look so wounded, with eyes so broken, as though he was falling into an abyss of pain? Ruth couldn’t grasp it.

“Ruth!”

As he looked into Ail’s eyes, Kasha grabbed Ruth’s arm. The door creaked as it moved, and Kasha pulled him away. Some of the knights rushed to Ail to support him, while others charged at the two of them. In a dazed state, Ruth was shoved aside by Kasha, who pushed the knights back with the hilt of his sword.

The heavy door was closing. The light from the room slowly dimmed, and the knights’ figures grew distant as they tried to rush through the closing gap.

But Ruth couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ail. Despite the blood dripping from his shoulder and the left hand gripping his wound, it was Ail’s gaze that gripped Ruth’s heart. Ail looked at him with eyes that seemed on the verge of tears, pale as a child who had lost something precious, something irreplaceable.

That face stayed with Ruth even after the door fully closed, etched into his mind.

“Ruth, hurry.”

Kasha urged him, but Ruth couldn’t move. His feet felt heavy, and he stumbled as he led him away.

Why had Ail looked at him like that?

Why did he look at him with such a pained expression?

Kasha understood Ruth’s state perfectly. Ruth Kaizel was the type of person who couldn’t stand seeing anyone weaker or more pitiful than himself and would desperately try to help. That’s what made him so lovable, though at times he appeared pathetic and foolish. He was the kind of friend who, despite being frustrated, would still take care of everything and protect others from start to finish, no matter what. That was Ruth. It was clear that the situation just moments ago had shocked him deeply—whether it was due to a guilty conscience or some other form of sympathy.

Kasha, sensing Ruth’s dazed expression, grabbed his arm and spoke sharply, as if scolding him.

“Ruth, forget about unnecessary pity. Think about yourself. Focus on the goal you originally had, and move forward.”

Only then did Ruth nod, though his expression still seemed somewhat absent. Kasha clicked his tongue in annoyance but kept holding onto Ruth’s arm as he started running forward. Ruth, deciding to set aside his other thoughts for now, followed him down the underground passage.

The long passage was dark. Sparse torches lit the way, but the air was damp, cold, and oppressive. It felt endless. As they ran through the deep and long tunnel, Ruth prayed for some light to appear.

He wished for the passage to end soon, to see bright light again.

But no matter how far they ran, it seemed like the tunnel would never end.

“Sound the alarm. Issue a lockdown in the palace,” Genus shouted quickly, helping Ail as he staggered. As the knights who had been standing still began to move, Ail stopped them with a sharp command.

“Stop.”

Still holding his bleeding right arm, Ail looked at them with a pale face. His voice, tinged with pain, continued.

“Keep silent about everything that happened in this room. Nothing happened. Return to your posts.”

“But Your Highness…” Genus began to protest, but Ail glared at him with sharp eyes.

“Keep this matter completely quiet. If even a word about it leaks, everyone will be held responsible. Call for the physician and clean up the room.”

Still clutching his arm, Ail moved slowly, ignoring the knights who stood frozen in confusion, not knowing how to handle the situation. Ail, with blood flowing from his arm, began to leave the room.

The reason he didn’t sound the alarm or call the soldiers wasn’t for any other purpose—it was because, if this situation escalated further, Ruth would never be able to return. And even if he did, he would face the harshest punishment. Ail didn’t want that. It was important to capture Ruth, but not in a way that would lead to his death.

He would make sure Ruth would come back. He would make it so that Ruth would return. For that, he needed to keep his place open for him, so he could come back at any time.