TTQI 28

The sound of the rain lashing against the window was deafening.

Looking out the window, the entire world was a murky, ashen gray. The room was already starved of light, but the torrential downpour completely blocked what little visibility there was, making the royal territory of Yonaras, as seen from the castle, look as if it had sunk into a giant cloud of gray smoke.

Though a layer of unpleasant dampness had formed, inside the cozy room—far more comfortable than the rain-soaked world outside the castle—the prince had lit a candle on the table and was gazing out the window. His expression as he watched the falling rain was, as always, somber and lifeless.

Recently, the news that Villeneuve, the deputy commander of the 2nd Royal Guard, was taking a long vacation had become a hot topic throughout the capital. The story was that the loyal knight, a scion of a great noble family said to be second in nobility only to the king and a close friend to the prince, was leaving his duties and the royal court after many years.

Originally, it seemed he had intended to resign from his position entirely. However, at the urging of the king, who thought of Duke Villeneuve as his most trusted vassal and friend, he was granted a slightly long vacation instead. Most of his belongings in the capital had already been sent to the Villeneuve estate.

Although he had the dishonorable nickname of the philandering knight, Sir Villeneuve had never been careless in his professional duties, and opinions were divided as to why he was suddenly leaving the castle. The most plausible theory was none other than a falling-out with the prince.

The rumor was that he had clashed with the prince, whose temper had recently grown sensitive and violent, and Villeneuve, having finally had enough, had quit his job. It was amusing; the public, who were always rambling on about baseless rumors at every opportunity, had for once guessed the reason correctly.

While this incident that had the castle in an uproar was unfolding, what had Zizlon done? Nothing. To the point where people pointed fingers and called him heartless. In truth, he thought it was better for his friend to leave. His reasoning was that a righteous man like Ade could not possibly endure in a royal court that was becoming so vile. Helpless himself, he had no confidence that he could fully protect him from the queen’s clutches either. That was why he had let the matter run its course. To allow Ade to leave of his own accord.

Of course, his inquisitive retainers and political allies were also curious about the truth of the matter, but Zizlon consistently maintained his silence. Even the king did not know the exact reason. However, he had once looked Zizlon in the face and sighed pointedly, as if he had guessed something from the sharp intuition he had honed amidst political strife and the whispers of his loyal vassals. Zizlon maintained a detached silence, and so, tomorrow, Villeneuve was scheduled to leave the royal domain.

“…”

It was then. As he was staring blankly at the flickering candlelight, someone knocked on the door. The identity of the visitor was obvious, so Zizlon did not bother to look. The door opened cautiously, and one of the queen’s young servants appeared, bowing his head. There was no greeting, but the boy was mute, so Zizlon did not take issue with the discourtesy.

The servant quietly placed a tray with a silver bottle on the side table and withdrew. After the door closed, Zizlon stared at the silver bottle on the side table as if it were a monster, then turned his gaze back out the window. He was sick of it.

If he waited like this, the queen would soon arrive. He, Zizlon, would wait for the queen’s arrival and prepare. He would drink the contraceptive medicine in the bottle on schedule and, just as he had every night recently, lose his mind. He would become a single beast that had forgotten all shame and humiliation.

Lately, Zizlon even found himself habitually seeking out the medicine. Having taken it every day, his hands had begun to tremble from time to time, and he would think of the medicine. When that happened, taking it would calm his mind, whether it was because he lost his reason or because the withdrawal symptoms were eased. The frequency of these episodes was even growing shorter and shorter.

He vaguely suspected the medicine’s addictive nature. But, in the end, he thought, what does it matter. He didn’t want to think about anything as it was, and he didn’t want to bother himself with such troublesome matters. His problems were already mountainous; adding one more didn’t seem like it would make much of a difference. In any case, if he took the medicine and mindlessly coupled, the dreary morning would arrive at some point. There was one good thing about being intoxicated by the drug: the dreadful time seemed to pass a little faster.

But tomorrow morning would be a little different from usual. Tomorrow morning, when he opened his eyes, Ade would be gone.

“…”

The prince stared blankly for a long time, as if time had stopped. The feeling was strange. Ade had always been near him since they were very young. There were times when they were briefly apart on missions, but he had soon returned, and ever since they had started working in the same Royal Guard, he was always somewhere he could come running to whenever he called. The thought of Ade being in a distant place, out of reach, was something he had never once imagined.

Zizlon lowered his head and clutched his forehead. He suddenly craved a drink. And he wasn’t even one to particularly enjoy alcohol. There had never been a day in his life when he had wanted to drink this badly. It was ironic. A tavern was usually a place he went to reluctantly, unable to resist Ade’s persistent pestering.

As for a drink, it would not be a difficult task to order a servant to bring a bottle of liquor right now. But he was the troublesome prince who drew people’s attention. In this castle where the birds hear the words of the day and the mice hear the words of the night, sipping a drink alone without any guests was not a very good idea. He didn’t think alcohol would taste good while being conscious of others’ eyes. His appetite vanished at the thought of what those who considered him a thorn in their side would say to slander him to his father the next morning.

“Should I go out,” the prince suddenly muttered.

If he covered his face and secretly slipped out of the castle, he could probably have a drink at a tavern without being recognized by anyone. It was almost time for the queen to arrive, but he suddenly felt indifferent to everything, thinking, ‘What does any of it matter?’ What reason was there to sit meekly in his room waiting for an unwanted tryst? While drinking medicine he didn’t even want to drink.

Having made up his mind, the prince rose to his feet. He took off his noble cloak and uniform and pulled out the shabbiest gray clothes he owned. He also put on a hooded robe. He pulled the deep hood down low, and the fabric covered his blond hair with room to spare. This should be enough to hide his identity without arousing suspicion.

To avoid being caught for leaving, the prince checked that there was plenty of wax left in the candle, left the flame lit, and slipped out of the room like the wind.

‘Ah, I think I’ve had too much.’

With a glass in his hand, Zizlon suddenly felt a dizzy spell and clutched his forehead.

He had succeeded in slipping out of the castle and ordering a drink without revealing his identity. The tavern owner and the other patrons, thankfully, paid no attention whatsoever to the lanky, hooded customer. What was brought to him, who had settled in a secluded spot out of sight, was cheap liquor that couldn’t compare to what he drank at the castle, but Zizlon sipped it, feeling somewhat comforted.

The problem, however, was that the one or two glasses he had been thoughtlessly tipping back had gradually increased, and by the time he came to his senses, he was drunk enough to be a bona fide drunkard. This was the first time he had drunk with such a lack of self-control, except for when he had gone on an outing with friends on the day he came of age. He had only intended to have a glass or two, but it seemed he had inadvertently lost himself in thought.

Zizlon repeatedly shook his head, trying to shake off the drunkenness. But the clamor of the boisterous crowd and the shimmering orange lights kept making his mind hazy. A sense of failure washed over him. The thought that nothing was going right crossed his mind.

“Hello there, handsome traveler.”

It was then. Sensing a group of people approaching the table where he was sitting, Zizlon hastily pulled his hood to cover his face. Just then, they stopped right next to his table.

Zizlon, in a defensive posture, eyed the group that reeked of alcohol. It was a group of men and women in the ordinary attire of peasants. They were already quite drunk, their faces red, and they seemed too dazed to notice Zizlon’s suspicious behavior. From their disheveled hair to their silly, giggling smiles, they were drunkards through and through. The one who had spoken was a woman at the very front of the group.

Zizlon replied in a sharp voice without realizing it.

“What is your business?”

“Well~ you see, we have a large party, but there are no seats. You seem to be alone, traveler, and this table is spacious, so would it be alright if we joined you?”

Listening to the woman’s slurred words, it was a simple request to share the table. Indeed, after hearing her, he looked around and saw that the tavern was doing great business today. There wasn’t a single empty large table that could seat the woman’s party, but the spot where Zizlon was sitting could accommodate about six more people if they squeezed together.

But for Zizlon at that moment, it was an incredibly uncomfortable proposition. On a normal day, he might have gladly allowed it. No, he might have even vacated the seat entirely, saying he was about to leave anyway. But today, he didn’t want to give it up. He had come out to comfort himself, after all. And sitting with suspicious strangers he didn’t even know was even more out of the question. To be frank, Zizlon was wary of them. His temper, made impatient by the drink, was on edge.

“I’d rather not.”

“Huh? Haha, don’t be like that, let’s have a chat together.”

“Did I not say I would rather not? You could just find another tavern, couldn’t you!”

“What? Why are you shouting? Fine, then!”

Zizlon’s stern refusal seemed to have sobered up their drunken excitement. Perhaps even some of their intoxication had worn off; they gave Zizlon displeased looks and turned back, muttering amongst themselves. The expression of the tavern owner, who had been watching the commotion from a distance, also hardened slightly in disappointment. Zizlon watched the retreating figures of the people and belatedly wore an awkward expression. It occurred to him later that there had been no need to shout.

‘Ah… what am I doing right now?’

Zizlon fell into an even deeper sense of disappointment and self-loathing. He had sought out alcohol because he was depressed, but instead of his mood improving, he felt like he was sinking deeper into a mire with every drink.

Eventually, Zizlon concluded that he should get up. He tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and staggered to his feet. Then, he unconsciously muttered a word.

“Ade, I’m leaving now…”

It was something he had said without thinking as he wiped his face. Zizlon stopped speaking and his body stiffened. A bitter laugh escaped him as he realized his mistake. He was a complete fool.

“Pathetic, so pathetic.”

Zizlon mumbled to himself with slurred pronunciation and slowly left his seat. It was already difficult to walk, and navigating through the people moving quickly within the crowded tavern was a challenge. Countless people brushed past him precariously, as if they would collide with him at any moment.

Zizlon struggled to keep his balance while trying to cover his face and avoid them, his mind a whirlwind. In the midst of this, some rash, heavily bearded man trying to squeeze through a narrow gap finally bumped shoulders with him. Normally, he would have withstood it, but at that moment he was already stumbling. Zizlon let out a foolish sound like “Whoa, whoa” and toppled over. And as luck would have it, there was a vat of liquor right there. In a flash, Zizlon plunged headfirst into the liquor vat.

Splash!

“Gurgle, splutter!”

“Whoa? Oh my! This fellow fell into the liquor vat. Are you alright?”

“What the—hey! Oh dear! All this precious liquor…!”

The man who had knocked him over and the tavern owner, who was about to lose his liquor, both rushed to help him up. Thoroughly soaked in alcohol, Zizlon was rescued by their hands. In their arms, even in his dazed state, Zizlon repeatedly insisted he was fine and tried to push them away.

In truth, he was not fine. The foul stench of alcohol assaulted his nose. He was the very picture of a rat that had fallen into a liquor vat. The sharp scent of alcohol emanating from his entire body made Zizlon’s mind even foggier. He could see the onlookers beside him pinching their noses at the pungent smell.

“Are you alright? My goodness, a big fellow like you, falling in there!”

“I am fine. It is fine. I am perfectly alright, so please let me go.”

“Really? You look very drunk. Can you even walk?”

“Do not touch me. I said I am fine!”

The man who had knocked him over pressed against him unnecessarily. He felt a hand slyly feeling the pocket on his clothes. Zizlon stubbornly pushed away the man holding him and got to his feet. He was afraid of his face being seen, and the rough touch on his body was instinctively repulsive.

The man watched Zizlon stagger away with a look of regret but did not try to stop him. He watched Zizlon for a moment before returning inside the tavern. The tavern owner, after watching the departing Zizlon and the onlookers, discreetly moved the sullied liquor vat into the storage room, away from prying eyes. Zizlon passed through the main door of the tavern.

Whoosh—…

The moment he opened the door, a torrential downpour that showed no signs of letting up filled his vision. Zizlon stared blankly at the dark world, then fumbled to pull up his hood. Had he been sober, he probably would have been reluctant to go out.

The sky was already overcast, and now that it was night, he literally couldn’t see an inch in front of him. Walking on such a street while drunk, he was liable to fall flat on his face and break his nose. But Zizlon, not even aware of how drunk he was, took a step forward with the complacent thought that ‘the rain will sober me up a bit.’

“Hic, hic.”

Zizlon hiccupped as he breathed in the cold air. Fortunately, the robe he wore was made of oilcloth, a waterproof material, and it covered him from head to toe, providing some protection from the rain. However, there was nothing he could do about the puddles that had formed on the dirt road and the rain splashing up from the ground. Below the knees, from his shins to the soles of his feet, he was completely soaked. With his feet wet and the rain beating against his body, his body temperature dropped sharply, and a chill soon set in. The water droplets splashing on his face made it impossible to open his eyes, which was also an ordeal. Even the heat that had risen from the alcohol was quickly stolen away, and his body began to shiver. Zizlon quickened his pace.

As expected, the dark town had few people. Then again, unless one was coming out for a drink, no one would bother going out in such a downpour. Only the occasional vagrant or ruffian loitered on the desolate, dark street. Zizlon was not afraid of them, so he didn’t bother to walk around them. They were his people, like family.

‘My beloved, pitiful people.’

At some point, Zizlon muttered foolishly. He had unconsciously spoken the words that came to mind under the influence of alcohol. It was because he suddenly felt pity for the scenery of Yonaras laid bare in the downpour and the people hidden within it. The situation they faced and the current scenery were not so different.

The rowdy peasants, the traveler who had fumbled with his pocket, the merchant who had hidden the spoiled liquor—they all flickered before his eyes one by one. What was he to do with these pitiful, innocent, ignorant souls? Who else but him, the powerless, would protect them, who didn’t even know they were being swept away by the rainwater?

Around that time, two men who had been ominously loitering nearby slunk up to his side. They were shabbily dressed men with numerous scratches on their faces.

“Hey, miss, where are you going?”

The men stuck to Zizlon’s sides as if they were his companions. It was as if they were trying to restrain him, sandwiching him between them. One of them even started groping Zizlon’s buttocks the moment he got close.

Given his tall stature, it would be hard to mistake him for a woman, but it seemed they had been mistaken by his hunched form, covered by the robe. It was a ridiculous situation. At the touch filled with slimy intent, the fine hairs on Zizlon’s entire body stood on end. His already nauseous stomach felt like it would turn over at any moment.

“Get away.”

“Ugh, what? It’s a man.”

Hearing Zizlon’s voice, they finally realized their target was a man and moved away. They looked at each other and snickered as if it were the most absurd thing. How utterly shameless of them, after having nearly molested an innocent woman.

Zizlon was disgusted that such ruffians infested the world. Emboldened by his drunkenness, he rashly drew the sword at his waist. The sword, appearing with a shwing sound, glinted under the gloomy moonlight.

“Gasp!”

“Get lost!”

A person who carried a sword at night was either a high-ranking person or a madman. Either way, getting involved was a big problem, so they were terrified the moment they saw the sword. Fortunately, even before Zizlon could shout anything more, the two of them quickly fled as if by agreement.

Zizlon coughed dryly a few times and sheathed his sword. Then, as if nothing had happened, he started moving toward the castle. No, in truth, he couldn’t see much, so he staggered along wherever his feet took him.

“Pitiful and innocent…”

About to lament again, Zizlon discovered his pocket was empty as he put his sword away. All the money he had brought from the castle was gone. Was it the doing of the thieves who had just groped his buttocks? No, it had been empty before that. The man who helped him up in the tavern? Or the tavern owner?

Zizlon, trying to retrace his memory, felt a sense of annoyance and gave up the search. Everything was a bother. He decided to consider it a charity given to ‘those’ pitiful people… A hollow laugh escaped him.

‘Ah! I’m thirsty. So thirsty.’

Zizlon squinted and stared at the blurry view. He desperately longed for a glass of clear water. His throat was scratchy, as if he had eaten a mouthful of straw, and he couldn’t stop coughing and hiccupping. He wanted to hurry back to the castle, drink some warm water, and then lie down in a dark room as still as a corpse.

But the image of the terrible guest who would be waiting in his room flashed through his mind. That dreadful cold-blooded person would not grant him a comfortable rest, let alone a glass of warm water. If he wanted to so much as wet his lips, he would have to cry and beg pathetically.

Though he was cold and his body was weary, the moment he thought of that person, Zizlon’s steps toward the castle slowed to a crawl. Standing in the cold downpour was better than being in that person’s arms.

And at some point, Zizlon arrived at ‘a certain place.’

“…Where is this?”

Zizlon stopped in front of a certain door. He lifted his head and stared blankly at the door for a long time, and then, realizing where he was, he froze in surprise. The place he had arrived at was none other than Ade’s residence. His body had unconsciously led him to Ade.

“Ha.”

A bitter laugh burst out. Of all places to get lost, he had to come here? It was so absurd it was disappointing.

‘I must leave at once,’ Zizlon thought. If someone were to see him in his current state, it would be the ultimate disgrace. It was terrifying to think what kind of rumors would spread about him being found standing pathetically in front of his departing friend’s room, dead drunk. Picturing the nightmarish scenario, Zizlon shook his head vigorously.

And just as he was about to turn and leave, Zizlon was taken aback. His feet wouldn’t budge, as if they were glued to the ground. Then, Zizlon unconsciously touched his cheek. Hot water was flowing. Startled, he covered his eyes. And he realized. This hot water was not rain. It was tears. He was crying.

Looking again, belying his thought that he must leave at once, his feet had not moved an inch from Ade’s house. Zizlon stood there foolishly, wiping his tears. But just as futilely, new tears flowed to replace the ones he wiped away. All the while, he kept his eyes on the closed door. The tears flowed more and more. By the time they were flowing too much to be hidden by the rain, Zizlon began to sob out loud.

“Ugh… ughh…”

Once it started, the crying burst forth uncontrollably. Zizlon cried and cried like a child. And he stared at Ade’s door as if it were a lifeline of salvation. Suddenly, Zizlon’s lips moved toward the closed door.

‘Ade! Hide me!’

He scrubbed his eyes with a rough hand. Then, he impulsively raised his hand and stopped dramatically just as he was about to knock. His hand was poised right in front of the door. Zizlon stared at the door with a trembling hand in mid-air, his gaze desperate. The thirst he thought he felt was, he now realized, a sign of impending tears.

He finally understood. He had thought that letting Ade go was the better path for him, that he could give him up for the greater good, but in fact, it was not so. Zizlon actually did not want to let him go.

The talk that Ade had one-sidedly followed him around was all spoken by people who knew nothing. To him, who had struggled to meet the expectations of his father and the people, what a comfort his friend had been! How liberating it had been, at times, to leave the castle using Ade’s persistence as an excuse!

Having now come to find Ade, Zizlon cried out silently to the door. Ade, don’t go! Don’t leave me! If you go, I’ll have no one to lean on. I’ll be truly alone in this vast castle. I don’t have the confidence to endure any longer. Ade! Ade! I’m scared of people! If you disappear too, what am I supposed to do? Don’t go, don’t go!

He was so desperate that a vision of someone discovering him and opening the door flickered before his eyes. In Zizlon’s vision, Ade, who was inside, would casually open the door and find him crying silently. And Ade, like a transcendent being who could read others’ thoughts without any explanation, would perceive the inner wounds and loss Zizlon carried through his tears. Finally, the two would reconcile and have a dramatic reunion. In Zizlon’s fantasy.

But such a thing did not happen in reality. The firmly shut door was frozen cold, as if it would remain closed forever. It was cold and heartless, not showing even a twitch of movement. Zizlon, lost in his fantasy, stared at the door for a long time through tear-filled eyes, unable to let go of his lingering attachment. Until his soaked body grew cold and his teeth chattered. He didn’t even fear the eyes of others. He made a futile resolution that if someone were to open the door, this time, he would apologize and hold on to him.

But the door never opened. That was reality. Moving and exquisite coincidences were things that only happened in foolish novels. Moreover, Zizlon, who lacked the courage to open the door himself, wasted a long time in futility before dragging his frozen body back. For a coward, such an ending was fitting.

When he arrived in his room, the queen was waiting for him.

By the window where the candle flickered, the queen had been gazing at the rain-soaked territory, but when Zizlon opened the door and appeared, he turned to look at him as if he had foreseen it. He saw Zizlon dripping water but asked nothing. He didn’t even seem surprised that the prince, who had suddenly disappeared and reappeared, was in a shabby state and reeked of alcohol. Instead, he calmly extended a hand toward Zizlon. Zizlon recognized it as a signal to come closer, but he didn’t move.

As Zizlon remained motionless like a stone, Aion approached him himself. Gliding over, he gently stroked Zizlon’s cheek as if handling a precious gem. The pale cheek was damp and cold. As if suddenly overcome with pity, he tilted his face to kiss him. But just before their lips met, Zizlon slightly turned his face away, avoiding it.

“…”

Aion tried a few more times. Each time, Zizlon turned his head in the opposite direction. Eventually, Aion let go. He stood in front of Zizlon as if pondering what to do, staring at him intently. Then, without warning, he grabbed Zizlon’s hair.

“Ugh…!”

Zizlon’s face contorted, and he looked at Aion. As usual, Aion’s face was like a plaster cast, showing no emotion. As he looked into those dry eyes, something hot suddenly surged up Zizlon’s throat. When Aion tried to forcibly press their lips together, Zizlon pushed him away, and at that moment, lightning struck outside the window.

Rumble—…

A brilliant flash of light momentarily created a dramatic contrast of light and shadow. Pushed back by the strong force, Aion staggered backward, dazed, as if mesmerized by the sight and sound. After the lightning passed, he lifted his head to see Zizlon, having pushed him away, standing at a distance. And a pair of venomous eyes were glaring at him. Seeing this, Aion muttered indifferently.

“Hmm.”

Zizlon, panting from agitation, suddenly felt tears welling up in his eyes. It felt as if his chest were filled with stones. He was so resentful and indignant he couldn’t bear it. Finally, with tears in his eyes, Zizlon shouted in an aggrieved voice.

“Let us stop this!”

Aion let out a sigh and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Haa… Did you get a scolding from His Majesty?”

“I am not trying to be petulant!”

Zizlon swung his arm wide and placed a hand on his chest. Every time he moved, water dripped from his wet clothes. Zizlon paid no heed, even as the rainwater soaked the luxurious carpet. His eyes, looking at Aion, flickered strangely in the crimson light of the candle. He pleaded in a desperate voice that seemed to well up from deep within him.

“Are you not… are you not truly sick of this?”

Silently, Aion was watching him with an unreadable expression. Zizlon’s handsome face was horribly contorted as he clutched at his chest as if he were in real pain.

Zizlon writhed like a person in terrible agony. He pounded his chest over and over as if he couldn’t breathe, his chest tight. He clawed at his chest as if to harm himself, begging in a desperate and sorrowful voice.

“Are you not… are you not sick of it? What is all this? The problem is not me, it is you. Are you truly alright? Is this really what you wanted? To live tearing at each other, clawing, and receiving… such contempt from the one you love?”

“Are you alright,” the prince asked again and again, as if genuinely puzzled. His voice, strangely, did not sound like it was blaming the other person. Rather, it sounded as if he pitied both himself and the queen. As if he were sympathizing with and lamenting the cruel fate of the two of them, who had found themselves in such a situation. Even after hearing that heart-wrenching plea, Aion remained still, without any reaction, and the prince grew more and more hunched over, tearing at his hair.

“Let’s just stop… Let’s just stop this. Queen. Please let me go. Please, please, please just let me go. Please! Let a person, let a person live! It’s not a lie, I don’t love you! It’s not just that. I hate you! You’re horribly repulsive. Every time you hold me, I feel so disgusted I want to throw up! I’ve never hated someone this much. I’m even afraid of myself for wanting to strangle you whenever I see you sleeping. But are you really okay with that? The person you love despises you with all his heart, can that, can that not be heartbreaking? If you too can feel disgust, let’s not be stubborn! Let’s make things easier for each other!”

As if standing in the cold rain, the prince’s teeth chattered, and his broad shoulders trembled. Overcome by his intense emotions, the prince trembled like a madman before slowly collapsing.

The prince sank to the floor, tearing at his hair. The rainwater that had dripped from his soaked body stained the spot where he sat a dark color. In the end, Zizlon, curled up like a helpless child, buried his face in his arms and muttered repeatedly.

“Let’s stop. Now, stop… stop…”

Then, the sound of sobs began to mix in. Crying out “let’s stop” over and over, the prince’s screams subsided.

Aion’s expression was detached. While listening to the prince, he stood demurely with his hands clasped. Aion, who had been staring at the sobbing prince for a moment as if lost in thought, quietly approached the weeping prince and gently lifted his chin. Then, he looked into Zizlon’s terribly bloodshot eyes and smiled softly.

“That is severe for a drunken ramble, Prince.”

“…”

“You are right. No one would choose… to be hated by the one they love. Even someone like me, of course, would hope to be loved by the one they love.”

Aion, who seemed lost in thought, gently closed his eyes and muttered in a meek voice. For a moment, a glimmer of hope crossed Zizlon’s eyes. Then, Aion took hold of his arms and pulled gently, and Zizlon rose as if mesmerized, following the hand that led him.

With a delicate touch, Aion took off the prince’s wet cloak and, folding it two or three times, draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Zizlon meekly accepted his service. He gradually stopped crying but coughed intermittently.

“But what can I do?”

Soon after, Aion muttered softly as he smoothed the cloak.

“It is not as if I have any other choice.”

“Ah…”

A subtle tension entered Zizlon’s body, who had been standing blankly. Aion continued.

“You did not give me any other choice.”

Then, Aion slowly raised his head and looked at him. Aion’s eyes, looking up at Zizlon, were so calm and curved enchantingly like a fox’s. He looked so unconcerned that it felt uncanny. He continued speaking as if explaining a perfectly natural fact.

“In truth, feelings are not that important.”

Zizlon drew in a breath. Aion smiled even more deeply and stroked Zizlon’s forearms. It was a careful touch, as if caressing a precious, hard-won collectible. Zizlon felt goosebumps wherever he was touched.

“It is a shame that I cannot possess all of you… but what is it to possess you even partially? When you think about it, the heart does not take up a large share. I have a larger share than that… yes, the ontological you, the physical form that is your body.”

“What… what is so important about that. That is not what I am talking about, is it? The body is nothing, what is important is the heart… this heart. How sublime a feeling love is…”

“Ah, is that so? I do not think so.”

Aion cut in sharply.

“I do not think of love as anything special. I have heard much of what you call sublimity, respect, and so on. From romantic nobles who commit adultery in the name of free love.”

While Zizlon’s face flushed with the insult and shock of having his sublime emotions mocked, Aion picked up the silver bottle on the table.

“But it is not as if I, like others, do not know how to enjoy love. It is impossible not to know how to love, it is like a set of rules. But that is all for people who have their love requited… what if it is a half-love like mine? Do I give up? That is not a very forward-thinking idea. So, naturally, would I not try to enjoy as much as is possible?”

Then Aion moved closer to Zizlon, and Zizlon instinctively took a step back.

Aion asked suddenly.

“Tell me. If I try, will you give me your heart?”

Zizlon, frozen with his eyes darting around, moved his stiff lips as if they were broken.

“Y-You know as well as I do. That is… that is impossible…”

Before Zizlon could finish, Aion cut him off as if he had expected such an answer.

“See? Since getting your heart is a lost cause anyway, I will take what is left. Even your fuckable body.”

At that moment, Aion’s hand moved up to Zizlon’s waist. Zizlon felt goosebumps all over his body. When he raised his arm to strike the hand away, Aion grabbed his wrist this time. Zizlon tried to shake that hand off too, but for some reason, it wouldn’t budge. It seemed his body had gone limp, shrinking in fear.

“That is… that is not love.”

Zizlon, captured by Aion, opened his mouth as if in a final struggle. Aion’s white silhouette was reflected in his two hollow eyes. His gaze was like that of someone who had encountered an unknown being with whom communication was impossible.

“That is… l-lu, lust. You’re just… ho, horny for me.”

“Why is lust not love? Prince?”

Aion replied in a voice full of laughter and placed a hand on the prince’s cheek. He caressed his cheek carefully, as if wanting to confirm that the prince existed within his hand. While he stroked his cheek, the precariously standing prince held his breath in fear. Aion’s languid voice continued.

“Your argument is this… if you are rejected by the one you love, you should give up your affection. Because hurting the one you love is more painful than giving up love. It is a terribly boring story. Old-fashioned nonsense. Prince, I cannot sympathize with such an idea. I do not like to give up. Instead, I am the type to try. I do not know about sublime love or whatever, but when I love, I do it my way. I do not care about the means. So that my desires are, ‘as much as possible,’ fulfilled. I pursue the next best thing. That is the way of thinking for people like me.”

Then Aion’s hand moved. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed Zizlon’s chin and forced his mouth open. At that moment, Zizlon realized. At some point, the bottle was in the queen’s hand. Knowing he was trying to force the medicine on him, Zizlon quickly shut his mouth. If he drank the medicine, he would no longer be able to converse soberly.

“Stop… stop it! Let’s talk…!”

A struggle ensued as Zizlon grabbed the queen’s arm holding the silver bottle and held on with all his might. Even as he pushed the queen away, he did not give up and tried to persuade him to talk. “Ha!” Aion laughed maniacally.

“Fine! If you don’t want to, do as you please.”

The agitated Aion threw the bottle. The surprisingly fragile bottle’s neck shattered the moment it hit the floor, and its contents, the contraceptive, spilled onto the floor.

“Stop…! Ah!”

Zizlon grabbed Aion’s wrist to calm him down, but the moment he did, Aion’s other hand flew out. The agitated Aion was not thinking straight. Aion swung his arm wide as if dealing with a lowly servant and slapped Zizlon’s cheek without mercy.

His head snapped to the side, and his eyes flew open. Letting out a single gasp of “Huk,” Zizlon collapsed with a clear handprint on his cheek. He couldn’t get up for a while and sat on the floor, trembling. Meanwhile, Aion approached, grabbed his hair, and began to drag him toward the bed.

“Stop… it.”

Zizlon moaned, then coughed as if his breath had been cut off. The queen gave him no time to get up. His scalp felt like it would be torn off, and Zizlon was dragged along, half-crawling. Then the queen pushed him onto the bed and began to unbutton his clothes with rough hands.

“Cough, cough!”

Zizlon coughed as if having a seizure, yet he constantly fidgeted and resisted. His complexion turned blue every time he coughed, looking quite precarious. But Aion showed no mercy. He lunged at him as if to tear off his shirt, and when the prince did not cooperate, he shot up in a fit of excitement. Then, with a glint of madness in his eyes, he issued a threat.

“I promise you! Tomorrow, Sir Villeneuve will be hanged before he even sets foot out of the royal domain!”

“!”

At that moment, Zizlon’s expression was one of complete devastation.

“…”

And soon, the strength drained from Zizlon’s body. Like a puppet with its strings cut. Even the faint strength with which he had been helplessly resisting vanished. His pupils also became empty. From his body, which hung limply like a piece of meat, Aion easily stripped off the clothes and threw them aside. Zizlon’s limbs swung helplessly as he was swayed by his touch.

It was all his fault. The sin of having expected, of all things. The sin of pinning his hopes on someone he knew he could not reason with. The sin of not letting go of his expectations.

Zizlon stared blankly at the ceiling.

He was lying on his back on the bed. Aion was on top of him. His eyes were frenzied. He couldn’t understand why he was so angry when he was getting everything his way.

Aion was usually a person with an almost excessive lack of facial expression, but on his bed at night, he would show a variety of expressions. Some might call it beautiful. But to Zizlon, his eyes in love and his eyes mad with insanity were all equally horrifying.

“Ah… Augh…”

His dry lips moved. Aion’s fingers hastily parted the hole and entered. Unlike usual, it showed no sign of getting wet. His whole body was dry. That, and it was seriously cold. His ice-cold body was so chilling that hugging it was not exciting at all. Aion must have felt the chilling cold too, but he did not let Zizlon go. Instead, as if to be defiant, he held Zizlon tightly and finally bit his ear.

“Ugh, uh… Aack…!”

Zizlon gasped as if he were about to stop breathing. The sound of crunch was terrifyingly clear. Something hot trickled down his cheek. It was about to flow into his eye, so Zizlon squeezed his eyes shut.

The metallic smell of blood wafted up. Aion had bitten Zizlon’s ear until it bled. The cold ear now throbbed with heat from the blood and the wound. Aion licked the blood and giggled.

“Prince, look closely. This is my way of loving. There is this kind of love in the world, too.”

‘No way.’

The prince’s breathing was ragged. The blood that had dripped from his ear flowed over his temple and pooled in his eye socket, making it impossible to open his eyes. The blood tried to seep into his eye, so the prince shut his eyes tight, and the pooled blood soon overflowed and trickled down his cheek like a tear.

The prince lay limp in a state of resignation. Soon, his two legs were spread apart powerlessly by Aion’s hands. Aion violated the hole with a rough touch, licking the ominous marks he had carved into the prince’s body as if admiring them. To protect the tender internal organs, the hole eventually became wet.

“Look at this. Getting all wet and sloppy like this in an instant, yet you go around putting on airs as a prince, my cute bed slave.”

He was thrusting into the hole so roughly that the strong muscles hidden in Aion’s thin arms were twitching. Zizlon, drained of strength, felt the pain and silently moved his lips. But what came out of his mouth was not a scream but a strange, deflating sound.

His body, heavy as if waterlogged, was limp, and his throat was so painfully sore that he couldn’t make a sound. The prince was in a state where his spirit seemed to be separating from his body. Even the pain was distant. He didn’t care even if he was bleeding profusely. In the first place, there was no one to listen to his pleas, so it was useless to cry out.

“Nngh.”

But when the hot pillar split his body and entered, a suppressed groan escaped him. Aion’s hard and huge member pressed into the organs in his belly from all sides as it invaded. He could feel the veins bulge in his blood-engorged neck.

Aion let out a contented sigh, savoring the hot heat inside the hole. It felt good to enter the warm body after rubbing against the ice-cold one. Zizlon had been lying limp for some time, unresponsive. Because he had bitten his ear, he was crying tears of blood, and the sight of him collapsed and bleeding, looking like a corpse, made his heart pound. He felt a constant urge to confirm that he was alive.

Aion licked the hot blood that had pooled at the tip of his chin. He felt a hot warmth. His eyes naturally glazed over, and an unbearably languid pleasure washed over him. It was hotter than anything else. This was the part of the prince that Aion loved the most. Aion loved the prince’s warmth the most.

“Zizlon, my Zizlon. I love you.”

Aion, whose heart was so full he couldn’t bear it, confessed his love over and over. Zizlon just lay there blankly, not moving a muscle. Regardless, Aion was not hurt by it anymore. He moved his hips without a care. Aion thrust up from below, and it was pleasant to hear the prince let out intermittent moans of “Ugh, ugh” every time his flat stomach bounced. Though there was no heat in his voice.

Aion put strength into his arms and pressed Zizlon’s bent knees to the bed. The prince groaned, as if the position of being folded in half was difficult. But even that was nothing compared to the sensation of Aion’s weapon entering deep into his organs. Immediately after, Aion pressed his lower abdomen against him, and his insides were squeezed from all sides, making him feel nauseous. Zizlon’s body, to protect its master, gushed out fluids.

“Ugh, uugh, ugh.”

Fully immersed, Aion now said nothing. With his mouth shut, Aion sweated and busily thrust his hips. The bed creaked and rocked busily along with Zizlon’s body. Zizlon panted from sheer exertion. His face was a mess of sweat and blood. The muscles in his arms, braced on the bed, were taut from bearing the weight of two people.

From his terrifyingly cold body temperature to his pale complexion, the prince’s condition looked serious. His body kept convulsing, but it was by no means due to pleasure. However, perhaps thanks to the tension, the tightness gripping Aion’s penis was strong, and it gave Aion a thrilling pleasure.

Aion was out of his mind with the rage that filled his head. The line between anger and excitement was thin. Already emotionally charged, Aion felt like he would reach his climax at any moment due to the intense tightness. He gritted his teeth and pounded into Zizlon like a madman. It was less like intercourse and more like he was beating his partner as they coupled.

“Kkh…!”

Aion bit the lips that had spouted such annoying words. His tongue invaded, aiming for the throat. The prince, whose mouth was forced open, gagged, unable to breathe. The inside of the prince’s mouth was as hot as the inside of his body. Aion felt a mad thirst for the warmth Zizlon gave him and blindly drove deeper, deeper into his body.

He found his partner insanely lovely and hateful at the same time. Even after taking him, and taking him again, he was thirsty. He felt the urge to burrow into Zizlon’s hottest place, to curl his body inside.

“Heoeuk—…”

Aion, grinding his teeth with a savage graat sound, pulled his penis out to the tip of the glans in one motion, then thrust it back in with a thud. Zizlon gagged as his cervix was struck.

“Feel it? This is the perfect position to get pregnant right now.”

Zizlon, who had been like a corpse, showed a slight movement. Seeing this, Aion let out a crazed laugh. As Zizlon fidgeted and tried to duck his head, Aion repeated the same motion several more times and forcibly grabbed his chin to hold it up. Aion held his neck in place and brought his lips to his ear, whispering so he could hear his words better.

“Huk… heok…”

“Yes, how about getting pregnant while we’re at it? Your womb has been empty and lonely for a while, hasn’t it?”

“Hm? Hm?” Aion whispered mockingly, thrusting his penis up repeatedly. Zizlon, who had been limp, began to react, squirming. He fidgeted, trying to push him away somehow. The weak hand pushing against Aion’s chest was pitiful.

As his partner reacted, Aion went even further, as if excited. He growled into the prince’s ear without restraint and pressed his groin against his buttocks as if to drive his penis in even further than it could go.

“Kkh, dammit.”

It felt like his brain was melting with excitement. Spitting out a single curse, Aion finally pushed Zizlon away and sat up. Zizlon took advantage of the brief moment of freedom to struggle to get away. But Aion, who immediately got into position, quickly snatched his calf and pulled him back as far as he had fled. Zizlon was dragged back like an animal and impaled again. Aion tucked Zizlon’s thighs under his armpits and began to pound him in earnest.

“Ha, haugh…! Oh, ugh! Heuk…!”

Zizlon moaned in pain and flailed his hands in the air. He felt terrible, but his body began to react faithfully. His penis had risen shamelessly and was bobbing. Every time Aion pushed his body, it swayed pathetically in the air, dripping pre-ejaculate.

“Get pregnant while you’re at it! Huh? Dammit, isn’t this what you wanted? It would serve you right to be so big-bellied you can’t even go outside!”

Seeing the fluids splash every time their flesh met, Aion laughed, saying he was getting ready to be pregnant. Zizlon began to cry again in misery. Aion’s momentum was so fierce that Zizlon’s sturdy body was gradually pushed up, and soon his head was bumping against the wall with every thrust. His pelvis, forced open because Aion wouldn’t let go of his legs, cried out in pain. As if he really intended to get Zizlon pregnant, he was relentlessly aiming for the cervix. Unable to withstand Aion’s onslaught, Zizlon now began to beg. A terrible voice, like scraping on a steel plate, came out.

“Ah, aht, stop…! Pl-please… stop, it. Heuaht! Heu, heuk…!”

“Shut up!”

Aion growled.

It was no joke, Zizlon felt like he would faint at any moment. The pain of the forced coupling aside, his head was strangely hot, and his throat was excessively dry. The part where he was joined with Aion was so hot it was stinging, but a chill ran through his body. He shivered from the chills, and cold sweat poured down like rain. He had a feeling that something was really wrong with his body and that something bad was going to happen. He tried to beg with all his might, but Aion didn’t even pretend to listen. The hand clutching the sheet kept losing its strength and slipping pathetically.

Then, Aion let go of Zizlon’s legs. And what he grabbed instead was none other than Zizlon’s neck. A glint of madness shone in his eyes as he looked at Zizlon. His reason had evaporated, and he was like a beast, not a person. He stared into Zizlon’s eyes, which were filling with terror, and began to put more and more strength into his fingertips.

“Keok… heok… A… Ai, on…!”

The horror and fear that filled Zizlon’s eyes were only for a moment. Soon, his entire face turned red, and his veins stood out, then his eyes gradually began to roll back. As his consciousness faded, Zizlon, driven by survival instinct, scratched the back of Aion’s hand, leaving a mess of vicious scratches on the skin. But still, Aion did not let go. Aion, caught up in his violent emotions, flashed his crazed eyes and gritted his teeth.

“Just try and shake me off!”

“Keheuk! Kek…!”

Aion’s white, gaunt fingers clung tenaciously to Zizlon’s neck.

“It’s no use trying to shake me off! The more you do, the more, the more I’ll entangle myself like a madman!”

Zizlon’s whole body thrashed. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his open mouth.

Aion completely filled Zizlon’s fading vision. As if he would not allow Zizlon’s eyes to reflect anything but himself until the very, very end, his mesmerizing and terrifying white face filled the world. His white, flowing platinum blond hair covered even the smallest speck of the ceiling. So persistently that he desperately wished to see the black, ugly sky instead.

Watching that sight, Zizlon suddenly felt his head spin with a sense of extreme despair. Terrible disgust and regret. In a fleeting moment, Zizlon felt an unbearable loathing for this world and impulsively let go of the thread that connected him to reality. Then, as if he had jumped into a raging torrent, his consciousness was instantly swept away into the deep unconscious.

His consciousness was gradually sinking into darkness. Surrendering to the sweet slumber, Zizlon slowly closed his eyes. But until the very, very end, Aion’s terrifying two eyes were staring at his fading consciousness.

“This rain just won’t quit!”

On a night of torrential rain, Ade, who had been looking out the window, suddenly sighed.

“I thought it would start to let up around today, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

Then, he muttered in a lamenting tone and moved away from the window.

The few weeks transitioning from spring to summer were a period of sharply increased rainfall in Yonaras. Whether to invigorate the grass that had bloomed in spring or with the intention of completely driving out the spring air, thick and thin rain fell frequently and intermittently. Around this time, the people of Yonaras could easily see the grass soaked with the rain that had fallen overnight when they woke up in the morning, or the sight of a farmer running in dismay after being caught in a shower while working in the fields.

At least the rain stopped from time to time, but the sky was constantly gloomy. It was consistently dark and overcast, holding the potential to pour down rain at any moment. It was also a time when big and small quarrels became frequent among people who had become sensitive from being cooped up in their stuffy houses all day, with no light and no chance to go out. The days without sun, the mold, and the musty smell. They were conditions sufficient to test a person’s patience.

It seemed to be a time with no redeeming qualities, but on the other hand, for poets, it was a strangely inspiring time. In fact, the rainy season in Yonaras was quite a famous subject for artists. While ordinary residents of Yonaras would complain, ‘What’s so romantic about this damn humidity,’ as they listened to their romantic ramblings, it was true that they too secretly enjoyed the unique smell of the rainy season, the fresh scent of grass and earth after the rain.

Hearing Ade’s lament as he returned to the room, the servant who had just put down the luggage straightened up and asked.

“You will not be departing today, my lord, will you?”

“I thought about it, but not like this.”

Ade shook his head with a hollow laugh.

“I gave up on that idea a long time ago! The road is wet, and to travel on a dark night with no moon is suicide. What if I slip and die a sudden death? My father would wail.”

“Then why did you pack your things so early? I have prepared everything, just in case.”

“I’ll wait and see, and if the rain stops even at dawn, I’ll leave.”

Sensing his master’s determination to leave before daybreak no matter what, the servant asked.

“Is there a reason you are in such a hurry?”

Then, Ade replied, shuddering at the mere thought.