TTQI 14

The north wind began to blow in Yonaras. This meant that winter had arrived. The leaves that had barely clung to the gaunt tree branches crumbled in the ice-cold wind, and amphibians and large mammals went into hibernation to escape the harsh winter season. Thin snow lay like a carpet over the fields and hills. The winter, when all living things except humans were asleep, was as quiet and beautiful as if time itself had stopped.

Over a short period, Aion thoroughly and relentlessly remade Zizlon. It was surprising that no one had noticed his true nature; the beautiful queen possessed a terrifying cruelty. He had no qualms about seeing blood. With his delicate hands, he wielded a whip like a sword and frequently struck Zizlon’s noble cheek.

Was that all? Honestly, the physical pain was nothing. More terrifying than a sword was Aion’s chillingly sharp tongue. Zizlon could grit his teeth and endure until he saw blood, but at Aion’s words of condemnation, he would ultimately burst into tears.

Aion used all these methods skillfully and without reservation. He would often brandish the whip fiercely, demanding that Zizlon beg for forgiveness. Unable to withstand the intimidation, Zizlon repeatedly offered reluctant apologies. Consequently, at some point, Zizlon found himself apologizing out of habit. As he lived, habitually watching the queen’s mood and anxiously worrying about provoking his anger, he gradually internalized a sense of defeat, like clothes getting soaked in a drizzle. He now believed himself to be an irredeemable loser. The sense of defeat was imprinted like a scar in the depths of his subconscious.

Under Aion’s punishments, which skillfully used fear, Zizlon learned resignation and submission. It was a sense of inferiority and anxiety that he, as the prince of a powerful nation, had never once felt before.

There was another thing that was breaking him down day by day: a physical abnormality that appeared gradually, as if his body were changing to follow the changes in his mind.

Because the queen frequently hit his chest or buttocks, Zizlon lived for a while with the itchiness of healing flesh as his constant companion. And since the wounds always appeared in places that were shameful to show others, Zizlon had no choice but to apply the ointment the queen diligently prepared for him. Strangely, the more he was injured, the more intense the itching seemed to become, and the peculiar sensation that accompanied it grew more distinct. However, Zizlon endured, believing that once his flesh adapted to the injuries and toughened up, this uncomfortable sensation would soon disappear.

While he forced himself to ignore his anxiety, his body slowly changed. The thought that the itching was gradually intensifying was not a delusion. Each time a wound healed, each time he applied the ointment more diligently, his flesh became more and more sensitive. His chest, which was especially abused, was the worst.

One day, while sleeping with the queen, the prince sensed something was wrong the moment the queen touched his chest. A strange, peculiar sensation was felt in a part of his body that had been nothing more than a simple lump of flesh. The next morning, upon carefully observing the chest he had long forgotten about, he saw that it had noticeably changed in appearance as well. His chest itself felt a little plumper than usual, but the biggest problem was his nipples, which had become as plump as a woman’s. They never had a chance to go down in swelling because the queen was always touching them, but now he saw that they retained their size even after the swelling subsided. Moreover, if they were even brushed against, they provided a sensation so intense it made his knees go weak. And was that all? Perhaps because of the constant touching, his breasts had become softer, and perhaps because his chest had grown, the width of his areolas seemed to have increased and their color seemed to have reddened.

Shame flooded the prince all at once as he belatedly recognized his own abnormality. After that, Zizlon became conscious of his protruding nipples and would needlessly place a cloth or bandage over them. Training bare-chested with the soldiers became something he could not even dream of. Fearing that their outline might show through his clothes, he began to avoid appearing in front of people. His anxious mind made him even more passive.

That was not all. Although Zizlon had been trying to deny the fact, thinking, “no way, it cannot be,” he was clearly aware of the change in his mind. At some point, Zizlon’s hole had begun to produce a fluid similar to a woman’s vaginal lubrication.

At first, because the amount was small, he believed he was mistaking it for scented oil, saliva, or semen. He himself did not have the confidence to face the change, so he had denied the fact like a blind man. And by the time he did acknowledge the truth, he had already crossed a point of no return.

The first incident that made the prince face his abnormality was when Aion, one day, lifted the hand he had been touching his hole with and showed it to him. Seeing the clear, sticky fluid entwined around the fingers, Zizlon was so shocked that his face turned deathly pale.

Aion mocked the speechless man, saying things like, ‘Haven’t you completely become a woman now?’ and ‘You have a body born to be lewd.’ The panicked Zizlon stubbornly insisted that it was a mistake for something else. Aion smiled and said they would see, and although Zizlon drew a firm line, saying such a thing would never happen, the truth was that by then, Zizlon already knew. And as the days went by, the symptoms became more pronounced.

Zizlon’s hole was clearly getting wet on its own. Moreover, the amount was so great that if he got up after sitting on the bed to serve Aion, a round mark would be left where he had been sitting. Sometimes, the fluid would gush out just from smelling his scent, or just from meeting his sharp gaze. The queen was truly merciless; he never missed such moments, pointing out each one and mocking him.

It was not just these prominent symptoms; Zizlon felt that his entire body was changing. Though he denied it on the outside, deep in his heart he knew it was the truth, and he felt terror. He was not normal.

Who in the whole wide world, what man, becomes like this? Zizlon asked into the empty air, shedding tears in secret. Why is this happening? It is already suffocating enough, so why of all things is this happening to him? He had never heard of or seen a person’s body turning lewd overnight.

What was more painful was Aion, who persistently forced him to confront his body’s changes and mocked him for them. Every time Aion derided him as a monster, as a born prostitute, Zizlon would shake his head no, yet feel confused. He wondered if his true self was nothing more than such a lowly being.

Even Zizlon, who had tried to staunchly protect his noble spirit, began to waver amidst Aion’s persistent condemnation. Perhaps Aion’s words were all correct. He might have been a lewd prostitute, a monster, from the moment he was born. If not, there was no reason for his body to change so bizarrely without cause. Perhaps, like a flower blooming in spring, his hidden true nature was blossoming upon being touched by Aion’s hands.

Sometimes, Aion would call the shrunken prince ‘my cute bed-servant’ and show him affection. By that time, the prince had realized that all the achievements and public trust he had built were a lie. In the end, he was nothing. The brilliant prince was just an empty shell, his true identity was merely that of a lowly bed-servant, and he had only deceived everyone’s eyes with the superior bloodline he was lucky enough to possess. Zizlon gradually began to avoid people. The dignity of the crown prince who used to traverse the royal castle with his chin held high was a thing of the past. Now, Zizlon sought out shadows, like a petty thief sneaking into the darkness.

He is afraid to face the ones he loves so much that his hands and feet turn cold. The reason is that it feels sinful for him, who is at best a lowly bed-servant, to receive everyone’s respect and trust. Prince Zizlon had once been proud of their love. But now, for the first time in his life, he felt that people’s expectations and respect were burdensome.

But he had to live up to their expectations. The more his inner self became devastated, the more Zizlon struggled to perform his duties flawlessly on the outside. Every day was a struggle with pressure and guilt. It took twice, three times the effort to produce the same results as before. Yet, even when he achieved results, he felt no sense of accomplishment or satisfaction. He only felt guilty that the lie was growing longer.

His father was a particular problem. Zizlon could act as if nothing was wrong in front of anyone else, but he could not do so with his father. And in the end, he punished himself, the sinner, by not appearing before his father. The number of times he went to see his father decreased day by day until one day it stopped completely. Zizlon became absent even from the dinner table, a gathering he had rarely missed since his mother passed away. Looking back in the future, that may have been the first step toward ruin.

“Haah… haah… with your back hole… you must eat… all of it…!”

In a room filled with hot steam, Zizlon, collapsed on the bed, let out a heated moan. When Aion thrust his hips up roughly, he let out a pained sound.

“Ah, aaang! Hngh, heeeit…! I-I’m coming…!”

“…Then you should just, endure it!”

“Heuk, I’m sorry, I’m sorr… hee, iik…!”

The two entangled bodies tensed up rigidly. Aion, without fail, sprayed his seed inside the prince and, looking satisfied, kissed the back of his head. Zizlon, with half-lidded eyes, remained held by him before slowly slumping down. As he lay sprawled on the bed, panting, Aion called him.

“Zizlon.”

Despite his exhausted body, Zizlon staggered to his feet. Without hesitation, he put Aion’s semen-covered member into his mouth and moved his head back and forth. He licked up the shaft, rubbing his cheek against it, and licked the slit of the glans as if to probe it with his tongue. Only after receiving this service did Aion push him away in satisfaction. Released, Zizlon fell face down on the bed again. Immediately after the act, a terrible sense of self-loathing and reality rushed in, tormenting him.

As he lay with his cheek pressed to the sheet, staring blankly at the wall, he felt the queen stir and get up. Aion fumbled to put on a gown, then approached again and sat on the edge of the bed where he was. Aion stroked his head in a feigned gentle tone.

“I’m sorry for saying harsh things. I can’t control myself when I get excited.”

“…It is nothing.”

“You are a generous person. I like that about you.”

Aion kissed his temple. Zizlon felt displeasure but did not resist as he used to. He now knew well that resisting would only prolong the painful time. When Zizlon did not reply, Aion got up again. He made Zizlon move further into the bed, then lifted the covers and fumbled his way into the bed.

The two lay side by side under the covers. Aion quietly embraced Zizlon. Zizlon was pulled into his arms like a doll with no will of its own. Aion held him in his arms and fiddled with his body. Aion, smiling as he stroked his firm back and soft hair, looked happier than anyone. In contrast, Zizlon’s expression, as he meekly surrendered his body to him, was utterly dry.

Many things had changed from before, but among them, Aion no longer disappeared immediately after their lovemaking was over. He had always been audacious, but now it seemed he was no longer afraid of being discovered. On the contrary, he clung to Zizlon’s side even more tenaciously after they finished. It had started with him not wanting to leave, needlessly touching his body after satisfying his lust, and now it seemed he was intent on sleeping together until morning, as if they were a married couple.

This was not a good thing for Zizlon. It meant that the suffocating time would lengthen, because when they were together, Aion would invariably torment him. He had pleaded many times, and even refused, but Aion only responded with a cold expression and harsh punishment, so in the end, he chose to just squeeze his eyes shut and endure.

“Ah… Aion….”

Sure enough, as if feeling playful, Aion bit Zizlon’s earlobe. His nibbling was quite sharp, and Zizlon reflexively frowned. But he could not stop him and just hesitated. Aion considered having his physical affection rejected as particularly insulting, so unless he wanted his buttocks to be beaten until they bled, he had to refrain from daring to touch his body. Aion opened his eyes to slits and glanced at Zizlon’s distorted expression, confirmed the obedience that was now completely ingrained in his body, and contentedly puckered his lips. Zizlon opened his mouth for him, and their two lips met.

“Euung… ung….”

“……”

Zizlon’s cheeks gradually reddened. Every time the rough tongue rubbed against the mucous membrane, the pit of his stomach tickled. Aion firmly held down the squirming Zizlon as if he were trying to escape, while with one arm he kneaded the firm flesh of his buttocks. He could feel him tremble with a shiver every time he dug his nails in, and before he knew it, the love juice that had gushed out was soaking his thigh. Aion chuckled and pulled his lips away.

“Did you get excited from a kiss?”

“Haah… haah….”

“Look at this. You’re so wet.”

Aion showed the hand stained with love juice to Zizlon, then, without warning, shoved it into his mouth. And while he grabbed Zizlon’s tongue with the dirty hand and rubbed it, Zizlon had to groan and drool from his mouth that would not close. The sight of the handsome man drooling with a flushed face was, to Aion, the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. A sense of possessiveness welled up anew in Aion’s chest. He whispered to Zizlon.

“Tell me you love me.”

“……”

“Hurry up and say it.”

At Aion’s urging, Zizlon hesitated before opening his mouth.

“Aion, as you know…”

“I know. That you do not mean it.”

“In that case, even if I were to say such words…”

Watching the prince avert his eyes, Aion let out a hollow laugh.

“You are quite a funny person. You are so afraid of being punished by me, yet you hesitate like this over saying a single empty phrase like ‘I love you’…”

Aion grabbed Zizlon’s chin and, with his characteristic snake-like eyes, stared into the prince’s sorrowful eyes. The eyes, still pure even after so much, seemed to cry out that no matter what predicament he was in, he could not deceive himself. The thought that although he seemed to have changed him so much, he had not managed to completely break his humanity, flashed through Aion’s mind.

As he gazed at the person he loved so terribly, Aion felt his lust slowly begin to rise again. Since Aion, at the very least, completely possessed his partner’s body, there was no reason not to act on what he wanted to do when he was aroused.

Lying face to face with Zizlon, Aion silently had Zizlon place one of his legs over his own hip. As Aion’s hands forced him to wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold one thigh in his hand, Zizlon’s eyes wavered. Though he could not say it for fear of punishment, the reluctance to endure any more intimacy was palpable. Aion, pretending not to notice, smiled relaxedly and fumbled over Zizlon’s hole.

“Ugh…”

Love juice gushed out, soaking the swollen hole. Was this hole not truly acting separately from its owner’s will? When Aion chuckled, Zizlon’s expression grew even more melancholic. Now that he thought about it, Aion knew that Zizlon had recently been feeling afraid because of his changing body. He tried his best not to show it, even to him, due to shame, but Aion could well imagine how anxious he must be on the inside. Moreover, it seemed he habitually felt depressed whenever he unwillingly became aware of the changes during their nights together.

Aion rubbed his member languidly over his perineum while caressing Zizlon’s cheek. Although he actually had no intention of respecting his partner’s will, Aion made a point of asking.

“Would it be all right to go one more time?”

“Aion… but did you not say that was the last time.”

Zizlon’s voice, as he answered after a moment of hesitation, was a little hoarse.

“Why? Do you not want to?”

“N-no, it is not that I do not want to, but…”

Zizlon answered urgently. And after a long pause, the reason he painstakingly offered was this.

“If we do it too late into the dawn… honestly, it affects my work the next day. Aion. Please, I hope you will be understanding…”

Then, as if pricked by his own conscience, he glanced at him nervously. Even though it was about his own body, the decision-making power lay with Aion. Zizlon had become so conditioned that he could not even think that this was strange. Aion gazed with a pleased heart at the dark circles under Zizlon’s blue eyes.

“If we do it until dawn? Do what?”

“As you know…”

“I am asking because I do not know.”

“…making love with you.”

Zizlon’s eyes were dull as he spoke as if in resignation. Aion smiled cheerfully but inwardly clicked his tongue. He thought he would surely be able to make him cry this time. Prince Zizlon must be developing an immunity, as the number of times he showed tears had decreased compared to before. Recently, he had to push him roughly to the point of exhaustion just to barely see tears.

Since Zizlon did not cry, Aion, on the contrary, became cross. Aion pressed the head of his cock firmly against Zizlon’s hole. He could see the flustered Zizlon swallow with a gulp.

“Well, I cannot believe you. Someone with as much stamina as you, Zizlon, getting tired from just this much?”

“Aion…”

“In that case, go to sleep. I will take care of it myself in the meantime.”

“That is…”

With Zizlon’s dejected muttering as background music, Aion pushed his cock in. “Ah…” Zizlon murmured, his mouth gaping open. The warm and soft inner walls, just like his heart, enveloped Aion’s member completely. Aion’s chest filled with love. Aion pushed his tongue into the sad prince’s mouth while gripping the handfuls of his chest with both hands. He could feel Zizlon’s body stiffen. His two cheeks turned red, and his thighs trembled minutely.

“Umm, mm… ung, euum…”

Contrary to his unwilling heart, Zizlon’s body responded honestly to every stimulation. Aion watched Zizlon’s furrowed brow with a greedy expression. Since he had not cried as he wanted, his plan for tonight was to see the tears he would shed, overcome by pleasure.

The next day, a little before daylight arrived, for some reason, the prince was at a sun-drenched spring in the Caritas Forest. The wind, which had grown noticeably chilly with the arrival of winter, blew, making the gaunt branches tremble with a rustle. His cloak fluttered heavily, and the air caressed his parched cheeks as if to console him.

“……”

The prince was staring for a long time at the water, which was as clear and cold as ice.

On this day—the prince had woken up in the morning, seen the queen lying next to him, and was suddenly struck by anguish. He felt as if he were choking, his breath caught in his throat, and a strange rebelliousness urged him on, a feeling that he could not endure it for another minute, another second.

The prince, having lost his reason, had dressed as if fleeing and, not knowing what to do, had blindly run out of the castle. Engulfed in an irrational impulse, the prince ran without even the awareness that he was doing something crazy. He had even forgotten his morning prayers, which he was not supposed to skip, so there might be some talk about his disappearance, but at that moment, he was so desperate to breathe that he had just run out headlong.

Chased by a formless fear, he ran and ran, and only when a familiar and peaceful landscape finally unfolded before his eyes did his reason return. The prince belatedly realized his abnormal behavior and felt depressed.

The winter forest was desolate. The trees surrounding him, with a few exceptions, revealed their gaunt branches and looked as pale as the prince himself. The only thing that remained unchanged was the spring water that always flowed in its place. The prince sank down in front of it and watched the water bubble up with melancholic eyes. Small ripples formed where the water surfaced, and the ripples grew larger and larger before fading at the water’s edge, repeating at a constant pace. When he dipped his hand into the clear spring water, which looked chilling just to see, a tingling pain arose in his fingertips.

Suddenly, Zizlon thought that he wanted to enter this spring and hide his body. If he sank without a sound, his body would slowly freeze, his senses would grow dull, he would stop thinking about anything, and at some point, he would lose consciousness….

Zizlon realized he was having a nonsensical thought and shook his head. He pulled out his hand, which was turning blue from the cold, held it to his chest, and got up. I must go back soon, he thought. It is unbelievable that I would do something as thoughtless as suddenly running out. But his feet, planted firmly on the white grass, would not move. It was a manifestation of his heart’s desperate wish not to return to the castle where Aion was.

Zizlon felt gloomy. Since when was it? Zizlon could not find rest in his palace, which was none other than his home. There was a time when he felt like he had the whole world. There was a place where, after returning from a hard and rewarding day, his heart would feel full even if he did nothing. The noble prince’s feelings about home were no different; home was a place that offered unconditional comfort and disarmed him, just like a mother’s embrace or a cradle.

But what about now? Inside the castle, Zizlon was always on edge, on guard against his surroundings. He was constantly anxious, never letting his mind rest for a moment. His home had become such a tormenting place that he would rather fight and work mindlessly in the harsh world. Where had that place he always wanted to return to gone? These days, Zizlon was in a state where he would force himself to stay up all night poring over documents just to avoid returning to his room at night. There were also times when he would sit stubbornly at his desk even when he had no business to attend to. As such days repeated, fatigue now began to torment him as well. It was a complete loss of peace.

Zizlon looked at the surface of the clear spring water. His own reflection was visible. The smile that always graced his face was gone, and the person reflected in the spring water looked terribly tired and shabby. Zizlon suddenly thought that he could not go on like this. That he could not foolishly repeat a daily life that was painful and burdensome. If he continued this life, there was only one outcome prepared for him: death.

“……”

After looking at the spring water and reaching a certain decision, Zizlon turned his body. Then he began to walk in the direction of the stables. He had to hurry if he wanted to leave before the king and queen finished their worship.

The place Zizlon rode to was a small estate right next to the capital. Located on the path to a larger town like a small village, the small estate was a humble place where barely fifty people lived, and in this place with nothing particular to see or buy, there stood a modest church, just like the estate itself. It was a small church with white outer walls, where, as the prince had heard, a single old monk lived and stayed alone. That was the prince’s destination.

Wearing his robe pulled down low like a hidden intruder, the prince passed through the quiet, sparsely populated village and entered the churchyard, looking around. He was unaware that he was behaving so suspiciously that if someone had seen him, it would not have been strange for them to report him to the village guards.

The yard showed clear signs of life. Snow was piled up here and there in spots where people did not walk, and through the gaps, resilient weeds poked their heads out. On one side of the yard, some half-chopped firewood stood with an axe stuck in it. A water bucket for drawing water lay tipped over near the fence, and shabby, worn-out laundry fluttered and swayed on a clothesline.

Zizlon was looking around to find the entrance to the church building when he spotted someone coming out of a small house next to the church. Looking again, it was a small child dressed like a monk, carrying an armful of wood and walking in his direction. Zizlon approached the boy with the thought of asking him where the head monk was.

Grunt, grunt.

Every time the boy opened his mouth, white puffs of breath spread out. The boy, perhaps so absorbed in his task that he had not noticed the visitor’s presence, approached the tree stump where the axe and firewood were and dumped the pieces of wood next to it with a clatter. Then, grunting, he tried to pull out the axe stuck in the firewood, and he looked extremely precarious doing so. The startled Zizlon forgot his original purpose and hurriedly approached, grabbing the handle of the axe.

“Oh?”

“Little one. Are you trying to chop firewood? Is that not too dangerous for you to do?”

The little boy looked back at Zizlon with round eyes. Zizlon first took off his hood so as not to scare him. Well-combed blond hair and a handsome, noble-looking face were revealed, and the child looked more bewildered than surprised.

“Who are you?”

“Just a visitor.”

“H-hey, wait a minute! That is my job!”

“Could you step back for a moment?”

The little boy, taken by surprise, let go of the axe as Zizlon led him. Zizlon rolled up his sleeves and gave the child a look. When the child nodded blankly, Zizlon had the child step back a little and powerfully brought the axe down on a piece of wood. With a thwack sound, the wood easily split in two. The prince had often chopped firewood when camping in makeshift shelters with his friends, so wielding an axe was not particularly difficult for him.

Such was his strong arm strength that the child forgot he was trying to stop him and watched, mesmerized, as he chopped the firewood. Zizlon placed the few pieces of wood the child had brought onto the stump one by one and swung the axe with a crack, crack, and in the blink of an eye, a pile of split wood pieces had formed at his feet.

Zizlon intended to finish the job quickly before looking for the person he came to see. It was to prevent the child from trying to chop firewood again, as he just could not bear to watch. And, so engrossed in chopping wood, he was unaware that the very person he was looking for was walking towards them.

“Mona, who is this gentleman?”

Zizlon’s and the child’s heads turned simultaneously in the direction the voice came from. The person who approached them was an elderly man dressed in a monk’s habit. The top of his head was bald, and the hair around it was white. The distinct wrinkles clearly showed the traces of time, but thanks to his smiling eyes and plump cheeks, he had an overall impression of being considerate. Zizlon put down the axe and straightened his back. In the meantime, the child ran scurrying to the old man, and the old man stroked the child’s head.

“Brother, the visitor chopped the firewood for me.”

“Mona, I told you not to handle the axe yourself because it is dangerous.”

“But… I thought I could do it if I was careful.”

“Let us talk about this later.”

The old man had knelt on one knee for the child, but as Zizlon approached, he stood up again. The man smiled gently at Zizlon and bowed his head with a nod. Zizlon asked the kind-looking old man.

“Are you the head monk here?”

“I am the only one who resides here, so it is a bit much to call myself the head, but yes, that is correct. My name is Collins.”

“And this child is…?”

“Her name is Mona. She lost her parents and had nowhere to go, so I have taken her in and am raising her here.”

Mona stands pressed close to Brother Collins’s leg, looking up at Zizlon as if wary of the stranger. However, his eyes were full of curiosity, because it was rare to see someone as noble as Zizlon in this small village.

Although Zizlon had not explicitly revealed his identity, even a young child could readily guess that he was of high status from his neat attire and dignified demeanor. From the very beginning, the aura he exuded was different from that of the messy and noisy tenant farmers the child was used to seeing.

And Brother Collins also surmised that his status was not ordinary. The brother guessed that this special guest must have an unusual story. He gently pushed Mona’s back, motioning for him to go inside first. Mona disappeared with quick, small steps, glancing back over his shoulder.

Collins, with his hands clasped behind his back in a dignified manner, asked.

“So, what brings you all the way here?”

“I am….”

Zizlon’s expression darkened abruptly as he recalled his purpose a beat too late. He had, in fact, come here to make a confession. However, he could not possibly tell his secret to the royal monk who lived under the same roof, so he had purposely sought out a small, remote monastery with no connection to him. But as soon as he saw the kind-hearted monk before him, his resolve faded into nothingness. Zizlon was even hesitating to reveal his identity.

Collins knew that the other was hesitating. Though his position was humble, he was experienced and had met many guests of this kind in his life, and most of them came to the monastery bearing a great sin they could not bring themselves to confess. And such people usually required a considerable amount of time before they could achieve their goal of confession. Collins believed that it was not a matter to be rushed with this kind of guest. Instead, he exercised patience and made a gentle suggestion.

“It is cold outside, would you like a warm drink?”

Brother Collins led Zizlon to the small wooden house next to the monastery. It was where Mona and Collins usually lived. There were only two rooms, but the brazier lit in the room created a cozy warmth that made one not envy a large house. Collins and Zizlon sat facing each other at a small table placed by the window. Mona, as if accustomed to serving guests, brought milk in small cups from the kitchen.

The child, with his red cheeks and simple expression, looked quite lovely as he carefully brought the cups, holding the tray. Seeing the cute child, Zizlon momentarily forgot the worries and anxieties that had been weighing heavily on his mind. With a smile that formed naturally, Zizlon offered a light word of thanks to Mona. At that, Mona let down his guard and smiled shyly.

“It is goat’s milk we got from the village. It is fresh and delicious, so please try some.”

“Thank you.”

Zizlon drank the milk. It had been boiled once, so it was still warm. As soon as he took a sip, he bit into a lumpy chunk. It was a curdled lump from boiling the milk too long. The child had probably boiled it. The cultured Zizlon calmly managed his expression. Still, the warmth seemed to relax his tense body a little. Brother Collins also expressed his gratitude to the child and then asked him to leave for a moment. Mona picked up a broom leaning in a corner of the room and went out to the yard.

“Well then…”

Now the topic turned back to Zizlon. Tension once again flooded his mind, which had been relaxed for a moment, and Zizlon bit his even heavier lips while fiddling with the cup in his hand. But Collins did not go straight to the main point; he wanted to take a more roundabout approach. He turned his head and looked out the window. A bluish winter light hung over the world, and in the yard, thin snow that covered the ground here and there was glistening.

“The weather has gotten much colder, has it not?”

“Yes? Ah, yes. It has.”

As it was not the question he had expected, Zizlon momentarily stuttered. When he turned his head to follow his gaze, he saw the same scenery outside the window. He saw the tranquil view of the monastery. The harmony of the white building and the white snow looked quite peaceful. For a moment, he thought that if he lived in a place like this with just a child, he would have no worries at all.

“It is not a suitable day for a distinguished guest to visit so suddenly.”

When Collins chuckled heartily, Zizlon swallowed with a gulp.

“I, I came here because…”

“I will not rush you, so please take your time and speak.”

Zizlon took a sip of milk as instructed. Then, with worried blue eyes, he looked down at the rough wooden cup in his hand.

“You do not ask who I am.”

“I can tell that you are a person of high standing.”

“How did you know?”

“Are you not so neat from head to toe? Ha ha. Though your expression is worse than ours.”

“Does it not make you feel uneasy?”

“What does? Everyone who comes to me is the same. And I treat them all the same.”

Collins drank the rest of the milk in one go and placed the empty cup on the table. Then he clasped his two wrinkled hands together and spoke in a gentle tone.

“The purpose of people who come here with such an expression is usually the same. You have come to confess your sins, have you not?”

“That… is correct.”

Zizlon hung his head low and clutched his forehead with difficulty. As if trying to pull himself together, he blinked his eyes several times. Self-loathing pricked his heart like needles, making it hard for him.

“But… I am truly sorry. I certainly came with a firm resolve… but now that I am about to do it, I just cannot find the courage to confess. It is absurd to say that I choose to continue sinning because I lack courage, but…”

“Even though I will never divulge what you tell me? Besides, are you not someone who could take my life if I were to leak your secret?”

“That is not the problem. Regardless of your character… it is I who lack confidence.”

“Why is that?”

“That is…”

“Is your sin so great that you have no confidence you will be forgiven? Are you afraid that I will condemn you? Or is it that you yourself are so ashamed that it is difficult to speak? Or perhaps, are you afraid that the world will change after you confess your sin?”

“Actually, it is all of the things you mentioned.”

Zizlon let out a groan. He stared at the milk cup for a long time, then suddenly shook his head. He reached out his hand firmly for the cloak he had taken off, as if he were about to get up from his seat right away.

“This makes my coming here meaningless. I am only taking up your valuable time, Brother. I will just be on my way back.”

Zizlon had half-risen from his seat. Just then, Collins called out and stopped him.

“Sir Knight, do not be in such a hurry. Please finish your milk before you go. Mona took the trouble to warm it up for you.”

“……”

The brother probably had an excellent talent for keeping people from leaving. Zizlon, looking back at the table, hesitated for a moment, then finally returned to his seat as he was told. Zizlon sipped his milk with a gloomy face. Collins remained silent for a long time, as if he really intended to let him go as soon as he finished the milk. Then, just as Zizlon finished the last of his cup, he threw out a single phrase as if in passing.

“Come again for milk next time.”

Zizlon, wiping his mouth, replied hastily.

“Brother, I…”

“There are not many people who can confess everything at once.”

“……”

“What I mean is, there is no need to feel guilty for not being able to speak. God will wait for as long as it takes. You can speak when you are ready.”

Sadness and despair pierced Zizlon’s heart. The idyllic scenery of the small monastery and the hospitality contained in the warm milk brought him to tears. The peaceful life was so sweet that Zizlon, in contrast, felt miserable.

Collins was looking at him with a warm gaze. Zizlon could tell, without hundreds of words, that he was a trustworthy adult. How good and simple were he and the red-cheeked orphan Mona? He did not have the confidence to confess his own ugly world to such pure people. The brother warmly comforted him as he agonized in self-loathing.

“The opportunity to be absolved of sin is not a one-time thing. Opportunities are continuous. But sometimes, those who feel too much guilt forget that fact.”

“Brother… you do not know. The sin I have committed is not something I can speak of so easily. Even if I come next time, I will probably give up and go back.”

“Did you worship another god? Did you kill someone? Even so, there is no sin that cannot be forgiven.”

“In a way, more than that… I am even now committing sin. Every day, repeatedly… and with every passing moment, I am becoming a more terrible person.”

“……”

The brother kept his mouth shut and maintained a thoughtful silence. That silence seemed to comfort Zizlon instead. At that moment, as if a small ember had caught fire, Zizlon suddenly felt a small bit of courage. Zizlon brought out a question in a choked, thick voice.

“Brother… if… if one continues to sin, while knowing it is a sin and feeling tormented… what if… I feel… joy, if I feel pleasure… can I be forgiven?”

“Well… in my eyes, Sir Knight, you do not look very joyful.”

Zizlon sighed and buried his face in his hands. His throat was too tight for any more words to come out.

“Each person has their own complex story. The important thing is to repent of the sin and not repeat it again.”

“What if I cannot escape? What if I have to keep sinning?”

“Then come to confess until you can escape from the sin. And, there is no evil deed that cannot be stopped. It is just that you are afraid of paying the price for your sin.”

“The price for my sin…”

At Collins’s firm words, Zizlon muttered. For a moment, it felt as if his vision had cleared. The price for my sin! That was the cause that had plunged him into this mire. All of this had happened because he had refused to receive the price for his sin. He was afraid. Afraid of the contempt and condemnation he would receive upon revealing his relationship with Aion. And he believed there was no way to escape ever again. In fact, he might have known subconsciously. The fact that there was a way out, and that the path would require an even greater price than before. In the end, because he was a coward, he had been meekly submitting to this arduous fate.

It could be said that on this day, Collins had given him a small realization. Zizlon confirmed once again that he was a coward. He was not afraid of holding a sword, of seeing blood. He was afraid of people’s eyes.

What he needed was not the courage to confess his sin. It was the courage to willingly pay the price for his sin.

Zizlon quietly placed the cup on the table. His eyes, though still gloomy, were shining with a resolve that was much stronger than before. He spoke to Collins, who had been waiting for him quietly.

“…Is it alright if I keep visiting? Until I find the courage.”

“You are welcome anytime.”

Collins smiled warmly.

“Remember. For those who repent, there is always a chance. Your hands, your flesh may become soiled, but as long as you feel guilt, your soul is noble. Even if you sin, never become complacent. Reflect upon yourself at every moment.”

And the two rose from their seats. Having finished his short conversation with Collins and acquired a slightly different mindset, Zizlon fastened his cloak and opened the door of the wooden house. At the door, he came face to face with an unexpected person; the little red-cheeked child, Mona, was waiting for him, holding something in his hand.

When Zizlon saw the little one, the child held out what was in his hand with a rather solemn face. Zizlon, taken aback, accepted it and examined it. In his hand was a necklace with a sacred symbol carved into the wood. It was crude, as if handmade, but its polished surface was a testament to the maker’s sincerity.

“Are you giving this to me?”

When Zizlon asked in surprise, Mona nodded his head.

“I truly hope you find peace of mind.”

Zizlon gave a bitter smile without realizing it. He must have been wearing such a desperate expression that even this clueless child had noticed his melancholy. As sadness welled up, he also felt a sense of endearment. He could feel the same warmth he had felt from the milk in the necklace he held in his hand.

“Thank you. I will come again and help you with your work.”

Zizlon patted Mona’s head, then mounted the horse Mona had brought and quietly started off towards the royal castle.

Behind him as he departed, Mona and Collins stood side by side. Collins placed a hand on Mona’s small shoulder and watched the prince’s receding figure with a worried expression. He muttered.

“Mona, what kind of sin could such a noble and kind person have possibly committed?”

Collins cautiously revealed to the still-innocent little Mona the anxiety he could not show in front of his guest.

In a room lit by candlelight, Zizlon sat at a table. He was waiting for a visitor in the bedroom that had become a terrifying space for him. Normally, he would be suppressing the urge to run out at any moment due to fear, but now his mindset was a little different from usual.

He was quietly looking down at the wooden pendant in his hand. As he looked at it, the image of the tranquil monastery faintly rose in his mind, and the warmth of the milk spread through his cold palm. He repeated Brother Collins’s words to himself. I must not become complacent. I must not become complacent.

‘I am a sinner. I must rightly pay the price for my sin. I must accept my sin willingly.’

At some point, Zizlon opened the drawer of the side table. Lying there among various odds and ends was a sharp dagger. Lifting it, Zizlon fiddled with the handle.

Recently, even when he was seized by an intense urge to stab something, he could not tell who the target was. When he asked himself if he wanted to kill Queen Aion, he felt a revulsion so strong it sent a chill down his spine. Then who was it that he wanted to stab? Was it just an irrational impulse?

After hearing Collins’s words, Zizlon now knew. The one he had wanted to stab was none other than his cowardly, hypocritical self. If he thought about it with a truly humble attitude, the queen was merely an unfortunate prisoner captured by the irrational passion of love, and the one who had created that opportunity was himself, who had lost his reason in a drunken state. The choice, then and now, had always been his.

Zizlon, who had been fiddling with the handle, slowly moved his hand towards the blade. When he pressed his finger against the blade with a little force, the sharply honed edge dug into his skin, delivering a stinging pain. In the pain of his flesh being cut, he felt a sense of comfort and ecstasy. It was the satisfaction that came from punishing himself, the consolation that no matter what price he paid for his sin, it would not be as bad as physical pain. As if intoxicated by the pain, Zizlon began to press down harder and harder. He could see pearl-like beads of blood forming between the blade and his flesh.

Knock, knock.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. Coming to his senses in an instant, Zizlon was startled and quickly threw the dagger into the drawer and closed it. Then, afraid that someone might have been watching, he glanced back at the door. The ‘knock, knock’ sound continued. In the very next moment, Zizlon had no difficulty guessing the identity of the person outside the room.

A wave of depression quickly washed over the heart that had been comforted for a moment, but Zizlon reluctantly got up. At least, thinking of the blade in the drawer and the pendant in his hand seemed to lighten his heart. The thought that he could confess everything and receive the price for his sin, in other words, that he could end everything with his own hands at any time, gave him a kind of composure. Zizlon approached the door and greeted his guest.

“Zizlon.”

As soon as he opened the door, Aion, his white clothes billowing, sweetly entangled himself with him. In the gap of the door closing behind him, the expressionless, mute servants who had been following him for some time stood silently like toy soldiers. Fortunately, the door closed quickly, and the creepy gazes disappeared.

Aion wrapped his arms around Zizlon’s neck and brought his lips to his. His pretense of being a lover was now quite natural. Zizlon, this time too, reluctantly offered his lips. Aion bit his lips lingeringly. He rushed in with such a passionate force that Zizlon staggered for a moment, trying to bear his weight.

After a short kiss, Aion pulled his lips away and, with his arms wrapped around Zizlon’s waist, smiled brightly like a flower.

“Prince, did you miss me very much today?”

Zizlon answered, looking somewhere other than at Aion.

“…Yes.”

“Please look at me when you speak. How much did you miss me?”

“I missed you very much.”

Aion often forced conversations like those between lovers, and Zizlon struggled each time to squeeze out words that would not come. But if he did not say what he wanted to hear, he would throw a terrible tantrum, so Zizlon forced himself to say what he wanted to hear. It was a poor performance, but fortunately, Aion was generally satisfied as long as he heard the words he wanted.

“In more detail. Did this hole of yours not tingle with the desire to meet my cock?”

Just when he thought that, he suddenly attempted a lewd remark. Aion’s index finger was already pressing on the spot over his pants where his hole would be. Zizlon, who had no immunity to lewd contact, blushed and twisted his body slightly. Aion let out a low laugh.

“You are being shy again. Now that you are mine, you should get more used to it.”

“Let us not do this standing here, let us go to the bed.”

“Are you trying to seduce me? Then you should say it in a sexier way.”

“Aion.”

“It hurts my feelings when you act so blunt. If you keep doing that, I will throw a tantrum.”

Aion spun Zizlon, who was insisting on going to the bed, around. Aion, who embraced Zizlon from behind as he took a sharp breath, grabbed his chest with a hand extended from under his armpit. When he roughly rubbed and squeezed the chest, whose silhouette was made clumsy by being wrapped tightly in bandages, Zizlon’s body twitched and jumped.

“Ah… wait…”

“You have wrapped this thing again.”

Zizlon contorted his face and helplessly allowed his body to be touched. Aion, not satisfied with just touching him over his clothes, soon had his hand boldly invade through Zizlon’s shirt. When he reached his hand through the gap in the bandages and unwound them, the nipples, which were always erect, revealed their outline through the clothes. Aion grabbed the plump and soft nipples with both hands and pulled them hard. At that, Zizlon gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his pants getting soaked with love juice.

“Did I not tell you? To show me your sexy nipples standing up in front of me.”

“Uut… heut…!”

Aion fiddled with the nipples and played his fingers suggestively along the areolas. Zizlon felt as if his legs would give out at any moment and he would collapse to the floor. If that happened, he would be tormented messily on the floor until his knees were all scraped, so he would rather go to the bed quickly. To do that, he had to say something that would satisfy the ill-tempered Aion.

“Ugh! I-I am sorry… ugh… ah, I was wrong, so please…”

“What were you wrong about?”

“H-hiding… my sexy breasts…”

“That is not it.”

“A-out, w-wantonly! For wantonly pestering you to go to the bed, heut, I am sorry.”

“Pestering is fine. But you spoke so coldly that it hurt my feelings. If you ask me more cutely, I will listen to you.”

It was easy to guess what Aion was expecting. Zizlon quickly racked his brain to choose words that would satisfy him.

“Ah, Aion… I want to receive yours soon. Quickly, to the bed…”

“Good. Say more things like that.”

Zizlon replied with a miserable heart, as if to say ‘take this and be gone’.

“In bed… feed me your cock, please.”

“Good. That was cute.”

Aion let out a giggle and kissed Zizlon’s cheek. His legs were still trembling, and Zizlon felt like he was about to collapse from exhaustion already. It had not been like this at first, but from some point on, whenever Aion touched him, he felt pleasure with more sensitivity than necessary. It was to the point where he felt a sense of alienation from his own body. In such a state, the hole that had learned to get wet was already soaked to an unspeakable degree. The weakened Zizlon staggered after Aion as he pulled him towards the bed.

“Hmm? What is this?”

Just then, Aion, who had taken Zizlon’s hand, discovered something in his hand and asked. Only then did Zizlon realize that the pendant was in his hand. He thought, ‘oops,’ but Aion was already staring at it intently. It was better to lose his interest, so Zizlon made something up on the spot.

“It is nothing, so do not mind it.”

“Is it a holy relic? What a surprise to see you holding something like this.”

“It is something I take with me when I pray. I was looking at it while tidying up my drawer.”

“Did you buy it yourself? It is quite modest for a royal possession.”

“I just happened to receive it. Aion, do not be like that, come here. Shall I lick you?”

Zizlon, growing a little anxious, took the initiative to seduce Aion. Aion, who only half-listened to his words, did not ask any more about the necklace, but for some reason, he took it and put it around his own neck. When he unfastened the front of his shirt, the wooden pendant could be seen lying alone on his white, firm chest. The modest object looked even shabbier on the chest of the flamboyant beauty. Seeing that, Zizlon’s eyebrows twitched for a moment. His chest grew cold, as if he had witnessed a terribly profane act, like trampling on a holy place with muddy feet.

“How is it?”

“…It suits you well.”

But when Aion looked at him and asked, Zizlon looked away from him and gave an empty compliment. His conscience throbbed with guilt towards Mona, but if he were to stand up to Aion for the sake of a mere sense of loyalty, it might only worsen the situation. Zizlon knew all too well that the wise course of action was to just squeeze his eyes shut and pretend not to see. As if the plan had worked, Aion, having lost interest in the holy relic, reached out his hand towards him. Zizlon took off his shirt and crawled towards him.

“Umm…”

The two embraced and kissed each other like affectionate lovers. His highly sensitized chest was aroused with a subtle sexual feeling just by being pressed against Aion’s firm chest. Gradually enveloped in excitement, Zizlon opened his eyes narrowly and looked down at the dazzlingly beautiful Aion. Aion was also looking at him with narrowed eyes. At the sharp gaze, like that of a dangerous viper, Zizlon trembled in spite of himself. He could feel his lewd hole, which had been tamed by Aion’s body, instinctively clench.