The sun was gradually setting, and the sky that had been tinted with a faint red hue was growing darker. As they followed the mountain path, the sight of smoke in the distance made them quickly change direction. Veering off the dirt path where grass had been trampled away, they pressed on through the forest, which made descending the mountain all the more difficult for the two. Although smoke from what seemed to be a small village continued to appear, reaching it was no simple task. Eventually, while wandering through the densely packed trees of the forest, Ail halted his horse.

Pulling the reins to stop, Ail scanned their surroundings as an eerie breeze swept through the forest. The wind, brushing against small branches, sent drops of water clinging to the leaves down onto their heads. Fearing that the now-chilled droplets might soak Ruth, Ail instinctively leaned over and held him tightly. It wasn’t a calculated or deliberate action—it was simply natural. He thought of Ruth first and sought to protect him.

He didn’t want to hurt him any further. Ruth was already in such a ragged state, and Ail couldn’t bear to see him hurt any more. He was someone precious, someone who didn’t deserve even a raindrop to touch him. Ail didn’t care about the wounds he caused himself, but the thought of someone else hurting Ruth was unbearable.

Caught in his relentless selfishness and obsession, Ail clenched his eyes shut and pulled Ruth even closer. Ruth was someone who belonged in his arms, someone who had been by his side since he became self-aware, and someone who needed to stay there forever. He had let him go once, and this was the result—a complete mess. What he regretted wasn’t just letting Ruth go but failing to stop him and letting things spiral into this state.

He should have done whatever it took to keep him. Even if it meant kneeling and begging before Ruth, who claimed Ail would never stoop so low, he should have held onto him. If only he had been faster and more decisive, none of this would have happened.

If something had happened to Ruth before he arrived—if he had found only Ruth’s cold corpse—Ail would have died as well. The moment he saw Ruth’s lifeless body, his blood would have run cold, his heart frozen, and he would have died standing there, petrified. The horrifying thoughts stirred a dizzying fear within him, making him hold Ruth even tighter.

He couldn’t let Ruth be hurt anymore. He couldn’t let him be broken or shattered further.

The heavy rain slowed to a trickle, and Ruth, cradled in Ail’s arms, let out a faint groan. At the sound, Ail hastily loosened his hold, suddenly remembering Ruth’s injuries. His back and chest were also wounded.

An awkward silence settled over them for a moment. Ail, unable to bear the tense atmosphere, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“… I hate rainy mountains.”

Ail’s muttering, a reflection of past traumas, seemed to cause Ruth’s shoulders to flinch slightly. The sight carved into Ail’s heart. As much as he hated seeing Ruth in pain, he hated even more the way he now avoided his gaze. Ail stared at the back of Ruth’s head, fighting an overwhelming urge to pull him into another embrace. He wanted to hold him so tightly that Ruth would imprint onto him, ensuring he could never leave again.

But if he did that, Ruth might break entirely. He might shatter into irreparable pieces and fade away into nothingness. So Ail couldn’t reach out—he could only watch. He had nearly broken Ruth once before and despaired when he slipped through his grasp. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Ail let out a soft, regretful breath. The sound, close to his ear, made Ruth freeze. Unsure of how to face him, Ruth silently stared at the ground.

What he initially thought was a dream was slowly becoming reality, and the realization made his heart pound so violently that he couldn’t bring himself to meet Ail’s gaze. He could feel the rapid beating of Ail’s heart against his back, and their soaked clothes made the closeness of their bodies even more pronounced. The warmth of his skin and the rhythm of his pulse seeped through the wet fabric, leaving Ruth’s head spinning.

His once-settled thoughts began to spiral again.

There was so much he wanted to ask: why Ail had come here, whether he had come looking for him, and if so, why. But his mind was a mess, unable to organize his thoughts. Part of him insisted that these were questions he needed answers to, while another part dismissed them entirely. It told him that none of that mattered—that in the moment when everything seemed to be ending, the one person he wanted to see had appeared. And that was enough. Right now, all he should do was look at him.

Yet, he couldn’t lift his head. At first, it was out of fear of waking from what seemed like a dream, but now, it was the fear of meeting Ail’s eyes and seeing the reproach in them. He was terrified that Ail would look at him with the same cold gaze as before. And so, Ruth couldn’t bring himself to look up. All he wanted was to stay like this, to melt into Ail’s embrace and disappear. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he would gladly die like this.

Returning to reality meant facing a web of complications. Ail didn’t know why Ruth had left. He couldn’t even imagine that Ruth had felt murderous at the thought of his marriage. If they left the mountain and Ail intended to kill him, that would be preferable. But if Ail had risked everything to find him for reasons other than revenge, and Ruth had to return to Karileum and witness his marriage, he didn’t think he could endure it.

Even so, a part of him longed to hold his hand again. He didn’t want to let go of this chance he’d been given. If this was to be the end, then pride, stubbornness, and fear all needed to be cast aside—he just wanted to hold his hand.

As Ruth hesitated and remained silent, Ail let out a soft sigh. Then he nudged his horse forward once more, heading toward the smoke they had seen. For now, the priority was to dry off and treat Ruth’s wounds.

The forest seemed old, with massive trees and thick branches. As darkness fell, it became increasingly difficult to see ahead. Fixing his gaze on the smoke beyond the trees, Ail pressed forward and eventually discovered a small village nestled deep in the mountain valley after the sun had fully set.

A breath of relief escaped him at last. Just as he began to feel that they were safe, Ruth spoke for the first time.
“…Something’s strange.”
“What is it?” Ail asked casually, and after a brief pause, Ruth replied in a hoarse, cracked voice.
“There’s smoke coming from the chimneys, but all the windows are dark. In this weather, they should have lit fires in the rooms as well.”
“…Do you think the Red Scorpions passed through?”
“Possibly…”
“Then that’s better for us. Once they’ve hit a place, they rarely return.”

Ail muttered in a calm tone. Whether it was a village of corpses or a ghost town, that wasn’t a concern right now. If the people were gone and there was firewood to be used, it was an even better situation. He didn’t care about other people—they were none of his business. If this were Karileum, he might have spent years hunting down such an assassin group, but this was Clozium. It wasn’t his land, and these weren’t his people.

“It’s a steep path. Hold on tight,” he said, patting the horse’s flank. With a snort, the horse began descending the steep slope carefully. They finally reached the village and proceeded quietly along the narrow path lined with tightly packed houses. Passing by an open door, they saw the bodies of villagers inside—men, women, and even children.

Ruth bit his lip hard at the horrific sight. Innocent people, killed simply for being in this mountain village. Even the women and children were slaughtered indiscriminately. The senseless cruelty, combined with the fact that he didn’t even know why they had been pursued, filled him with revulsion.

Ail, guiding the horse slowly, chose a small house with a stable attached and stopped there. After dismounting, he extended a hand to help Ruth down, grasping him by the waist. The uncharacteristic gesture made Ruth hesitate briefly, but eventually, he leaned into Ail’s support and dismounted. As soon as his feet touched the ground, dizziness overtook him. The combination of hunger, a day spent in the rain, and his injuries had taken their toll.

Ail steadied the swaying Ruth and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped an arm under his knees and another around his back, lifting him up. He carried him into the house, where the main room thankfully appeared free of bodies. However, in one of the adjoining rooms, blood stains that had yet to dry hinted at the recent presence of the attackers.

Placing Ruth down near the fireplace in the still-warm house, Ail searched the rooms for clothing, blankets, and towels, bringing them back before securing all the doors. Exhausted, Ruth lay in front of the fire while Ail handed him a towel, then left to take care of their horse.

At the stable, Ail found it empty of other animals, suggesting the attackers had taken all the horses. Still, there was sufficient water and feed for their own steed. After ensuring the horse was cared for, Ail returned to the house, closing and barring the doors and windows securely. He even drew thick curtains and added wooden shutters to prevent any light from escaping.

Once he was certain the house was secure, Ail approached Ruth again. Ruth, struggling with his injuries, had managed to dry his hair slightly with a towel, awkwardly using his uninjured arm. Watching him struggle, Ail fetched a bottle of strong liquor and a knife from the living room and sat down beside him.

“Turn your back,” he said firmly.

Ruth lowered his head at the soft whisper.
“I’m not going to stab you in the back. Just show me the wound. The bleeding has stopped, but it could reopen at any moment.”

Suppressing his emotions as much as possible, Ail spoke calmly. At his words, Ruth turned to face away. Through his blood- and rain-soaked clothes, his skin was exposed. His protruding shoulder blades and the hollow line of his back were plainly visible.

He looked thinner than before. Ail had thought that Ruth’s life would have improved after leaving him, but he had become gaunt and more haggard than ever. Gazing at his back with a pang of sadness, Ail carefully reached out to lower Ruth’s collar. At that moment, Ruth flinched and turned to look at him, startled.

Their eyes met for the first time since they’d reunited. In Rusths eyes, Ail saw the same gentle, clear gaze as always, and he felt a wave of relief. Yet, at the same time, emotions welled up uncontrollably within him, and he looked at Ruth with eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Meeting Ail’s gaze, Ruth stared at him with a sorrowful expression before finally managing to speak.
“Why… did you come?”
His voice trembled as the words escaped his lips.

It had taken all of Ruse’s courage to ask, but to Ail, it sounded like an accusation. He felt as though Ruth was blaming him for pursuing him all the way here, after he had fled. But Ail couldn’t have endured otherwise. At the very least, he had saved Ruth—though it was as much for himself as for Ruth.

“… I received your hair. I thought you were dead.”

When he heard that news, it had been utterly devastating. The mere thought of never being able to see Ruth again had been enough to drive him into panic. Without consulting his advisors or seeking the emperor’s permission, Ail had abandoned all state affairs and rushed here. His previous self would never have acted so impulsively. He would not have been willing to sacrifice everything laid before him for Ruth’s sake.

But in that moment, he hadn’t cared about calculations or consequences. Even now, he didn’t regret it. If this incident cost him his position as crown prince, so be it—he wouldn’t regret it. He had almost lost something far more precious. If his reckless decision to leave during the emperor’s absence meant losing his title, he believed he could reclaim it through his own ability. But Ruth was different. If he lost Ruth, he could never get him back.

He had almost thrown away something irreplaceable—something so precious and invaluable. The thought struck Ail’s heart like a wave of overwhelming emotion. He pulled Ruth into an embrace once more, but this time with gentle care, resting his face against Ruth’s neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered, unable to meet Ruth’s eyes as he confessed.

Ail hadn’t realized how emotional he could be. No, he wasn’t an emotional person—at least not usually. Earlier, when fighting the desert assassins, even as their blades narrowly grazed his throat, he hadn’t felt any regret for his life or fear of death. It was a situation he was used to; he’d been trained to handle assassins and threats since long ago. Killing his enemies felt no different than chopping wood.

But holding Ruth, injured and fragile, in his arms while fighting through the assassins, he had felt both exhilaration and terror. He was overjoyed and grateful that Ruth was with him, but he had been terrified that their blades might cut into Ruth’s already battered body.

Injuries to his own body didn’t matter, but the thought of Ruth being hurt was unbearable. Even imagining it was painful and filled him with dread.