It Begins with Isaac – Chapter 12.1

Author: nicotine

At the southernmost tip of the empire, waves ceaselessly rolled in, their white crests glistening under the reflected sunlight. A resounding cheer echoed across the vast beach. Children, buzzing with excitement, stomped their feet as they encircled two boys tumbling and rolling in the sand. After a short while, one of the boys collapsed onto his back in the sand with a thud. Unable to accept defeat, the boy, panting heavily with frustration, sprang up from his spot, but before he could demand another round, a man stepped through the circle of onlookers and raised his hand.

“Enough. Ian wins.”

“…Tch! One more round!”

“No. Training’s over for today. Alright, everyone, disperse!”

The man clapped his hands sharply and waved them side to side. Just then, a sea breeze swept in, tousling his hair. His closely cropped, soft hair tangled into a messy nest, revealing his eyebrows. As the salty wind blew fiercely, grains of sand swirled into the air. Frowning slightly, the man clapped his hands again with a loud smack. The children grumbled but bowed politely before scattering. Now, the only one left on the beach was the boy sitting in the sand, fuming with indignation. The boy, Gerard, with light brown hair, looked up at the man with almond-colored eyes.

“I could’ve won if we went a little longer.”

“This isn’t a brawl, Gerard. Didn’t I clearly say no using your feet?”

“…Help me up.”

Gerard waved his outstretched arm toward the man. The man gazed down at him quietly, then shook his head with a wry chuckle, as if he couldn’t resist. Grabbing Gerard’s hand and pulling him up firmly, the momentum sent Gerard leaping forward, clinging tightly to the man’s back with a playful smack. His earlier anger forgotten, Gerard’s mood shifted swiftly.

“Teacher! Come eat dinner at our house tonight, okay? My sister said to make sure you come!”

Gerard hovered around the man’s side, hopping along as he followed. The man let out a thoughtful hum, delaying his response as if considering it. Though he held back his words, acting as if he might actually join them for dinner this time, Gerard swallowed hard with anticipation. Knowing full well that the man would likely decline with an apologetic look at the edge of the beach, Gerard still repeated this cycle of hope and disappointment every time.

“It’s a bit difficult today. I’ll definitely come next time there’s a chance.”

“…Always the same excuse.”

“Tell your sister I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to that place again?”

Gerard kicked at the sand as he asked. The man paused briefly before resuming his steps with a small, calm smile. Gerard stole glances at the man’s fair, clean face, thinking about that place.

Beyond the sandy beach, a gravel field led to a cliff—not too high, but certainly not low either. It was a treacherous spot where a single misstep could send someone tumbling into a mix of seawater and jagged rocks, a place only the boldest dared to tread. That was exactly where the man went every day. There, three modest burial mounds stood, covered in gravel with wooden planks serving as headstones. Gerard’s teacher always headed there after training, sitting for hours and gazing out at the sea. Gerard had followed him a few times, but the path up the cliff was so rugged and exhausting that he hadn’t joined recently.

“See you tomorrow, Gerard.”

The man gently ruffled Gerard’s hair before walking silently up the gravel path. Watching the man’s figure grow smaller, Gerard recalled the day he first arrived in the village.

Gerard’s village was at the very edge of the empire’s southernmost point, often called the “end of the earth.” It was so isolated that outsiders rarely visited, perhaps once a year at most. Yet one day, the man appeared out of nowhere. Carrying a simple knapsack, as if on a casual outing, and accompanied by a boy around Gerard’s age, the man began a long-term stay at the village’s only inn. Despite his suspicious arrival, his polished appearance stood out. The villagers, a mix of curiosity and wariness, observed the pair, but the man and boy caused no trouble, quietly spending their first few days at the inn.

The day the man stepped out again coincided with Gerard and the village children playing war games with crude wooden swords. In the wide, grassy field behind the inn, the children were tumbling about when a pleasant voice offered advice from above.

“That’s not how you do it.”

Gerard’s swing, aimed at his opponent, was halted. The man had blocked the wooden sword’s blade with his fingertips.

“You’re holding it all wrong… Where did you learn this?”

He muttered in a low voice, taking the sword. In his large, refined hand, the small sword spun deftly. Gerard stared blankly at the man, who handled the sword as effortlessly as twirling a pencil.

In a small, isolated village without a ruling lord, there was no one to teach swordsmanship. Most residents were fishermen, out at sea all day, and the village children gathered during the day, swinging swords in play. Even in the empire’s smallest villages, there were usually training schools to prepare for military academy entrance, so the man’s question was likely casual. But the children had never had a teacher. Gerard, who had seen other village children training, flushed with embarrassment and pouted.

“There’s no training school here.”

“Oh… Is that so?”

“But I’m the best. I taught all these kids…”

Gerard dreamed of becoming a soldier—a revered one. He didn’t want to stay in the village and become a fisherman like his older siblings. Though he didn’t know how, he trained daily without fail. Even if his skills didn’t improve, sweating it out made him feel closer to his dream. Drooping his shoulders with a sullen expression, Gerard felt ashamed and demanded his sword back. The man, staring into the air as if deep in thought, frowned briefly before breaking into a grin.

“Want me to teach you?”

“Teach me what?”

“Well, something like this?”

Before finishing, he tossed the wooden sword into the air, caught it, and swiftly threw it toward the opposite side. With a sharp whistle, the sword lodged firmly into the center of a tree. Despite being a blunt wooden sword, not a sharpened blade, it quivered violently, embedded in the wood. Gerard and the other children’s jaws dropped. They stared at the sword for a long moment until the man, with a slightly sheepish tone, asked, “What do you think?” As if on cue, the children erupted in cheers.

“How did you do that? Please teach me too!”

The children swarmed the man, tugging at his shirt and pants, pleading. Though they’d never seen proper swordsmanship, they instinctively knew his skill far surpassed that of any small training school instructor. Shaken by the excited children, he let out a carefree laugh. Only after demonstrating his playful swordsmanship a few times did he escape their grasp. From that day, he turned the small plot behind the inn into a training ground. Parents, hearing from their children, entrusted him with small amounts of money and food, allowing him and his brother to get by.

Initially wary, the parents soon trusted him completely after witnessing his skill. They believed that under such a master, their children might have a real shot at entering the military academy. The man was quickly accepted as a member of the village. His brother, Green, blended in with Gerard’s group. Now, when the man walked through the village, people greeted him as if he’d never been an outsider. Everyone liked him. The young admired him, and the adults sought to impress their children’s teacher.

It had been over half a year since he settled in the village. Yet, why… Why did he seem so distant, like someone who might vanish if you looked away for even a moment? Gerard stared intently at the man’s now-tiny figure and shouted loudly.

“Let me come with you, Teacher!”

The pursuit by Valery, which Asil had expected to fizzle out in a few months, stretched on for over a year. Far from waning, it grew increasingly relentless and fierce, to the point that a moment’s carelessness would lead to spotting his search parties in the distance. Though Asil narrowly escaped each time, there were more than a few close calls.

On that fateful day, choosing to head to Nian instead of crossing the empire was, in hindsight, a stroke of luck. It was like stepping into a predator’s den, but that split-second decision saved Asil. With the innkeeper’s help, he disguised Graim as a girl using a high-quality wig left by a previous female guest and shaved his own head with scissors and a knife. At the Nian checkpoint, he encountered guards but played his role with utmost cunning. Though he and Graim had rehearsed, the boy performed admirably. For days after overcoming that hurdle, Asil half-jokingly wondered if he should train Graim as an actor. In truth, Asil had acted on instinct, and Graim likely had too.

The most unexpected moment was the radio exchange with Nian’s lord. He had fulfilled the bare minimum of familial duty. Though he surely knew Valery was after Asil, his uncle prioritized Asil’s safety over his own. Without him, Asil would have been caught immediately. Imagining the chaos of attacking the guards and causing a scene sent shivers down Asil’s spine. Valery would never have missed such a disturbance.

Asil passed through Nian unscathed. As expected, security was lighter inside. Though drenched in sweat from the fear of being so close to Valery, the dreaded encounter never came. Valery didn’t personally chase Asil or lie in wait like a hunting beast. It seemed he had chosen to stay in the lordly castle, tending to his wounds and receiving reports on Asil’s whereabouts. After all, he was human. Only days ago, he had a hole in his abdomen and nearly died from poison. Even summoning the strength to reach Nian must have drained him completely.

Asil easily slipped out of Nian and continued his life as a fugitive. Graim occasionally asked why they had to flee so desperately, but Asil couldn’t give a proper answer. Avoiding the question, Graim, who had matured quickly, seemed to find his own answers and stopped asking.

A major reason Asil evaded capture was Valery’s fame. Valery was one of the empire’s most prominent figures. Whether he wanted it or not, his every move was reported in newspapers, and his name was constantly mentioned on the radio.

After the news of Valery killing Mastis shook the empire, the Kingdom of Jenuka soon signaled its surrender. As the continent buzzed with the empire’s dominance, it was Valery, not the emperor’s children, who met with Jenuka’s crown prince to discuss the future. His now-unrivaled influence was celebrated in newspapers, scrutinized down to his clothing and habits on the radio, and discussed at every dinner table. Though already a powerful noble, the public’s fervor for him grew even more intense.

Valery’s name was inescapable, even in remote inns. Picking up a stray newspaper, nine times out of ten, his face was plastered across the front page. Where he was, what he was doing, who he met that week, what color uniform he wore at a ceremony, why he was inspecting military barracks across the empire after graduation… Asil absorbed every detail about Valery—listening, reading, memorizing. That’s how he stayed free.

While others speculated, Asil knew why Valery was traveling the empire, inspecting barracks for seemingly trivial reasons. He was still searching for Asil.

“Desertion, treason, regicide… Asil, if you’re caught again, you’re dead.”

Yet, despite his tenacity, Valery didn’t issue a public manhunt. He could have plastered Asil’s photo across the empire’s biggest newspapers, but instead, he operated quietly and privately. Asil racked his brain to understand Valery’s motives but couldn’t fathom his intentions. All Asil could do was keep running, evading the pursuit.

Valery’s chase began to slow about six months ago. Until then, Asil had been on the move constantly, never staying in one place for more than a week. This lifestyle inevitably led to things beyond his control.

…He couldn’t erase Valery from his mind.

Asil rarely dreamed. When he did, they were usually memories of a grim past or vague nightmares forgotten upon waking. But as his fugitive life continued, dreams became more frequent. The figure in them was always the same. Perhaps it was inevitable. Dreams were tied to reality, and Asil’s reality was consumed by him.

Dreams of Valery should have been nightmares, but strangely, the Valery in his mind wasn’t violent. Nor was he a fabricated or altered version. It was undeniably Valery, acting as he had in real life. In the dreams, Valery stroked Asil’s hair, playfully twirling it, sat Asil on his lap, teasing him like a child, or wrapped his arms tightly around Asil’s waist and back, gently caressing him. Though Asil had always resisted and endured these touches, in the dreams, he accepted them quietly. Sometimes, he blinked with a serene expression or buried his face in Valery’s large hands, breathing slowly.

Then, Valery would wipe Asil’s forehead with a cool cloth, carefully cleaning the sweat from his neck. These were real moments too—Valery nursing a sick Asil, never leaving his side, making soft sounds to reassure him whenever he briefly stirred.

Each time Asil woke, he grew less able to understand himself. Why these dreams? Had he forgotten how Valery treated him? Valery’s actions weren’t erased just because Asil had led him into danger. Asil deliberately recalled every act Valery had inflicted on him, especially the day he first sought him out, forcing himself to relive it whenever he began to forget. Though he resolved to burn away all feelings for Valery, Asil kept doing the opposite. He felt that fueling hatred might stop the dreams.

He remembered how roughly Valery had struck his cheek, how he had humiliated and forced him despite his refusals. How he treated Asil like a courtesan in front of Coleman, punished him harshly for a single outing, and violated him in his own mansion with only a door separating them from his father… Asil meticulously revisited these soul-crushing memories before sleep, yet that night, and the next, the Valery in his dreams was suspiciously tender, twisting his insides.

Asil was convinced something was wrong with him. A mental issue.

“After enduring such trauma and exhausting myself with this long fugitive life, have I lost the ability to judge what’s right?”

Lately, the memory of that final day haunted him every night. Upon waking, the desperate murmur, like a scream, buzzed in his ears like an insect. His name, uttered in Valery’s voice with a sigh-like lament. No one had ever called him so urgently, as if he were the only one who mattered, so earnestly.

Had he truly been tamed, trained like a beast? Asil was stunned. Even when he was with Valery, he had been constantly on guard, so why did he keep acting like someone unaware of Valery’s true nature?

“Wood…”

At the sound of someone calling him, Asil slowly opened his eyes. A warm breeze tickled his forehead. Before him stood Lil, Gerard’s sister, who ran a small eatery in the village, looking down at him.

“Sorry. Were you napping?”

“No. I was just thinking for a bit.”

Asil shook his head and stood, forcing a smile at Lil to shake off his useless thoughts. Her cheeks flushed faintly as she smiled back, her eyes crinkling.

“Why are you up here…?”

The place where Asil had been lying with his eyes closed was in front of the graves on the cliff. Under a small tree rising from the cliff’s interior, it was a space he used as often as his bedroom. He spent half the day napping in the tree’s shade, staring blankly at the graves, or gazing at the horizon beyond.

“Gerard told me. He said you come up here often.”

Lil, who had climbed the steep path to the cliff, looked exhausted. Asil felt a pang of guilt. He could guess why she had come all this way. Pretending not to know, he said, “Shall we head down, then?” Instead of following, Lil cautiously grabbed the hem of his clothes as he turned.

“Would you like to have dinner at our house tonight?”

“…”

“G-Gerard said he wants to eat with you, Teacher. Is that okay? I roasted some chicken that Green likes too.”

Her bold invitation grew less confident as it went on, trailing off into a barely audible mumble. Asil gently pried her hand away and looked down at her. It was an awkward situation, but continuing to feign ignorance would be rude.

The village had few young people, and even fewer unmarried ones. It was only natural that Asil, appearing in this remote place, became a prime catch among the village’s single women. He was young, handsome, kind, and capable. Asil received confessions constantly. Every unmarried woman in the village had either made a move or planned to. Lil had been sending him admiring glances for quite a while. With her brother Gerard being Asil’s devoted student, she often considered the possibility of becoming his partner and felt confident. But the moment she met his kind yet indifferent gaze, she sensed he would reject her. Though she hadn’t said anything explicit, just suggesting dinner, he smiled awkwardly, as if she’d proposed marriage.

“Sorry. I’ve got something to do tonight.”

What could be so pressing in this quiet village? Lil wanted to protest, but her pride kept her silent. Yet, in a surge of frustration, the confession she’d held back burst out.

“I-I like you, Wood.”

Asil looked down at Lil as she murmured the fake name he’d adopted. Over the past two years, Asil had lived under many names: Fred, Geron, Stad, Jen, Narin, and here, Wood.

“Don’t you have anyone you like, Wood? Really?”

“…”

“If not, what about me? Go out with me. If we spend time together, feelings might grow. I can wait until then.”

She clasped her hands, awaiting his response. Did he have someone he liked? Her question left Asil’s mind momentarily blank. He was twenty-two. Though he’d been an adult for years, he’d never dated or liked anyone. Before entering the military academy, he had no time for distractions, and after…

“I almost thought of him again.”

Asil bit the inside of his mouth and blinked. Lil’s words made him realize how intensely he’d lived. Others fell in love and gave up so easily, so why hadn’t he ever tried? What was it like to love someone and live for them? He’d always lived for others—his father, his siblings.

…Now, couldn’t he live for someone he chose, not out of obligation? Lil’s words about feelings growing didn’t sound like a lie. She would be a good partner—kind, not violent, and she didn’t frighten him.

Yet, Asil was still a fugitive. Though Valery’s pursuit had slowed, he couldn’t let his guard down. He liked this village enough to bury his family’s remains here and had stayed longer than anywhere else, but he’d leave the moment Valery’s movements seemed suspicious. The village’s remoteness meant spotty radio signals and limited newspapers. The only news he’d gleaned was that Valery had been at his capital residence for months, confirmed three weeks ago. The radio mentioned Valery shuttling between the palace and his home, meddling in the imperial succession, but with only one channel, it was hard to trust.

“Wood, please answer.”

But what if Valery’s pursuit never resumed? What if he’d lost interest and given up entirely? Then, couldn’t Asil put down roots and live peacefully here? Feeling the vast sea behind Lil, the radiant sun above, and the breeze on his skin, Asil slowly spoke.

“I’ll think about it.”

After speaking with Lil, Asil headed to the inn where he’d been staying long-term. Opening the small door to what felt like home, he took in the cramped room at a glance. He couldn’t live in an inn forever. If he settled in this village, he’d need a house. Scratching his cheek, he habitually turned on the radio. Sitting on a small chair, he noticed the window had grown dark.

-Today’s news… Folks, don’t be shocked.

Graim was likely at the village market again. Like Asil, Graim had grown fond of the village and bonded with the local kids. Asil was always grateful for his brother’s resilience. Despite the devastating loss of their family, Graim had coped stoically. Maybe they’d eat out tonight. Muttering to himself, Asil turned up the radio.

-It’s none other than Colonel Grekosha’s engagement!

Looking out the window for Graim, Asil instinctively whipped around to the radio. The host’s next words erased any thought of mishearing.

-Colonel Grekosha… He’s sponsoring…

Colonel Grekosha. Thanks to his wartime achievements, Valery had rapidly risen to colonel within two years of graduation. It was a ceremonial rank; he was likely treated as a commander within the military.

Asil pulled the radio closer, placing it in front of him. The host’s excited chatter was strangely hard to follow.

More shocking than Valery’s engagement was Asil’s own reaction. Why were his fingertips so cold? This was fantastic news for Asil—cause for celebration. A married Valery wouldn’t chase after a man he’d once toyed with. His bizarre, obsessive fixation would surely shift elsewhere.

Breathing heavily, Asil turned off the radio. The news was almost certainly true. Valery was royalty, twenty-seven years old. His cousins were all married. Even Princess Bride, the last to remain single, had recently wed a count’s second son. Valery had royal duties. As the sole heir to the grand duchy and the emperor’s favorite nephew, he couldn’t stay unmarried.

“Good.”

Asil muttered. Repeating “good” aloud calmed his racing heart.

“Really, it’s great.”

Asil laughed like a sigh. The exhausting flight was nearing its end. His toxic tie with Valery was almost severed. Warmth returned to his limbs, and Asil, as if he’d never been shocked, chuckled softly, muttering “great” repeatedly.

As he collapsed onto the bed, still whispering “great,” the door burst open. Graim, face flushed red, rushed at Asil, thrusting a newspaper at him. The small fist clutching the paper trembled. The gray paper was crumpled, the text illegible, but the large front-page photo was unmistakable.

“Huff, huff… Brother…”

Panting from running, Graim called out to Asil, who stared blankly at the paper.

“Brother! S-Sister…”

Asil smoothed out the newspaper. The crumpled photo took shape in his eyes. His black pupils quivered faintly, then shook violently. His fingers, holding the paper, trembled as if struck by lightning.

Reading the bold text, Asil looked at the photo again. There was no mistake. The woman boarding a carriage with a man who was unmistakably Valery was none other than—

“Sister’s alive…!”

It was Kana.

In Marknae, there was a street frequented by fashion-loving nobles at least twice a week. It was a boutique district where renowned imperial designers operated shops under their own names. The street, lined with vibrant signs, was always filled with well-dressed people: a famous opera singer in a wide-brimmed hat, soldiers getting uniforms tailored for ceremonies, wealthy noble daughters, and more. Deep within this bustling street stood a shop with an especially grand and colorful sign—Kish, a dress shop known to every noble in the capital.

Recently, Kish had skyrocketed to fame after Princess Bride, newly married, had her wedding dress made there. It became the holy grail of the boutique district. Making a dress for a potential future empress was no small feat, and everyone was desperate to buy even a small brooch from the shop.

Yet, for the past week, this wildly popular shop, which required reservations two weeks in advance, had been closed to customers. With curtains drawn over the windows and the door locked, the only person seen entering was a young lady whose identity intrigued onlookers. Those in the know loitered nearby, stealing glances at Kish.

“That’s the place. Don’t cause a scene trying to get a scoop.”

Lang, the owner of a small tailor shop across from Kish, quietly warned a young man claiming to be a journalist. The tall, striking reporter tucked his notebook into his back pocket, assuring Lang not to worry.

“I’ll just take a quiet photo and leave. You’re sure she’s in there?”

“I’m telling you, I saw her go in before lunch, so she’s still there.”

The reporter’s camera looked shoddy for a journalist—something you’d find in a dusty antique shop for a single coin. Nodding, the reporter, with the old camera around his neck, responded, “Got it.” Lang sighed, sat on his shop’s sofa, and offered the tea-sipping reporter some snacks.

Returning from lunch, Lang had spotted someone lingering suspiciously outside his shop. Wearing a beret pulled low and bowing their head furtively, the figure was unsettling. The street wasn’t immune to thieves stealing precious gems or fabrics. Though it was broad daylight, there was no guarantee robbers only struck at night. Frowning, Lang approached quickly, and the young man, who had been peering into the shop, turned with a start. Meeting Lang’s gaze, he smiled awkwardly, too confident for a thief. Despite his polished looks, his shirt was stained and made of coarse fabric, clearly not a customer. Lang waved dismissively, like shooing a fly, and opened his shop door.

Unfazed by Lang’s coldness, the young man presented a clearly makeshift business card, identifying himself as a rookie reporter from a new newspaper. He mumbled that he’d been staking out the boutique district for two days to cover Valery’s fiancée, a woman so famous in the capital that no one didn’t know her. Beyond the newspaper photo, her name, age, and origins were a mystery, making her the sole target of every capital news outlet. Dozens of reporters had already pestered Lang’s shop with questions before this young man arrived. How they’d learned Valery’s fiancée was having her wedding dress made at Kish was anyone’s guess.

“You’d better give up. I’ve never even seen her face clearly. She’s wrapped up so tightly.”

“I have to meet her.”

“She won’t come out until night. I don’t know why they’re rushing the wedding. With a man like that, there’s a lot to prepare, but still.”

“Do you know when the wedding is?”

“I only heard through rumors, but supposedly ten days from now…”

“Ten days…?”

The reporter trailed off, his eyes trembling. Clearly shocked, he clutched his forehead and sighed. Lang narrowed his eyes, watching him. The tacky beret worn to play the part, the ancient camera that seemed unlikely to work, the crumpled, handwritten business card… and the despair over a stranger’s wedding news—it was all highly suspicious.

“Hey, are you really a reporter?”

“…Why do you ask?”

Frowning, the young man removed his beret, revealing curly, matted hair. Without the hat shading his face, his features became clear. He was strikingly handsome, too much so to be a mere reporter. His extraordinary looks fueled Lang’s doubts.

“Be honest—do I look like a reporter to you?”

“Frankly? Not at all. What kind of reporter carries a camera from a decade ago? And why so glum about someone else’s wedding?”

Before Lang could finish, the young man spoke, his expression darkening and his voice sinking ominously. The dramatic shift drew Lang’s attention to what he might say next.

“If I tell you the truth, will you keep it to yourself?”

“Let’s hear it.”

Lang crossed his arms and stared. Confident he wouldn’t be fazed, he was stunned by the young man’s plea. For a moment, he wondered if he was watching a play, so astonishing was the story.

The young man introduced himself as the young lady’s former lover. They had been together since childhood, but misunderstandings drove them apart while he attended an art university. Desperate to see her, he dropped out and returned home, only to find she’d vanished. Searching the empire for her, he lived in despair until he saw her in a newspaper photo with Valery as his fiancée.

“Two weeks ago, I saw that article and came straight to the capital. I disguised myself poorly, fearing my presence might harm her…”

“…”

“I just want to talk to her one last time. Not anything grand… I just want to wish her happiness. We grew up like siblings. I have no intention of ruining her wedding. A brief greeting would be enough.”

Lang was a theater enthusiast, attending both grand operas and small street performances. He’d seen countless plays about searching for lost love, and the young man’s story wasn’t particularly unique. But the fact that her betrothed was the empire’s most powerful man, and that this was reality, not a play, thrilled him.

“Is that true? You and that lady, really…?”

“You can believe it’s a lie. Just let me hide here. Please.”

The young man, nearly in tears, pleaded with wet eyes, gripping Lang’s wrist as if ready to kneel. Lang had no intention of spreading the story. Deeply moved, he could barely contain his excitement. What a beautiful tale—a handsome young man searching for his love in reality, with Grekosha as his rival! The earnest face didn’t seem fake, but even if it was, it didn’t matter. Feeling like a pivotal supporting character, Lang patted the young man’s shoulder.

“I’ll help as much as I can. Wait for her here.”

Of course, even if she emerged, meeting her was unlikely. She left Kish late at night, slipping into a parked car like a ghost. Lang had only glimpsed her wavy blonde hair. He glanced around his unusually empty shop, consoling the young man.

With Kish closed, Lang’s shop was quiet too. Many customers visited Lang’s tailor shop after Kish, getting dresses made and then ordering clothes for husbands or lovers. The profits were substantial, but for a week, Lang had been twiddling his thumbs. Swallowing a sigh, he stood to fetch cookies for the young man. Had the shop door not opened with a jingle, he would have headed to the storage room.

“Lang! Urgent, urgent! Do you have any pearls or sapphires left? And dark green velvet! As much as possible!”

Kish’s apprentice burst in, pale with panic. For days, she hadn’t spoken to Lang, likely under orders to keep quiet about secrets. Even chance encounters resulted in quick nods before she scurried off.

“Ignoring me, then showing up when you need something? I won’t give you anything!”

“Your gems are the best, that’s why I’m asking. I’ll pay double. It’s urgent. Bring as much as you can, okay?”

“Geez…”

“ Right now!”

Glaring at the apprentice as she vanished like the wind, Lang couldn’t hide his inner delight. He went to his workshop, sorting pearls and sapphires into a box and pulling out every green fabric. Carrying a full load, he returned to find the young man leaping up and approaching.

“Lang, let me carry that.”

“…”

“Say I’m your new apprentice. I’ll deliver it. Please. At least I can greet her from close by… I’m begging you.”

The young man clasped his hands in plea. Lang hesitated, then shoved the box into his arms. It wasn’t a bad plan. If he was careful, he wouldn’t get caught—unless he grabbed the lady and ran. Scratching his head, Lang opened the shop door, his heart pounding, and shouted boldly.

“Go carefully!”

Asil placed the box of fabrics on a delicate glass table. The spacious shop held only four people: Kish’s owner, her apprentice, Asil, and Valery’s fiancée, changing in the fitting room.

“Lang’s new apprentice? I’ve never seen him take one.”

Kish’s owner muttered casually, and Asil responded with practiced ease.

“I begged him for days to take me on.”

“Lang’s got a soft heart.”

Years of fugitive life had honed Asil’s acting skills. Mimicking others was easier than eating, and fabricating stories came naturally. Deceiving Lang or the people before him was no challenge.

Kish’s owner glanced at the green fabrics Asil brought and snorted.

“He didn’t even make his apprentice a decent shirt?”

“…I haven’t gotten my first paycheck yet.”

“Lang’s stingier than I thought.”

Shaking her head at Asil’s worn shirt, she snapped her fingers. The apprentice, waiting behind, hurried over, standing rigidly like a disciplined soldier.

“That navy shirt we made the other day? Get it for him.”

“Yes!”

“We don’t just make dresses. We’re branching into menswear… We’ll see each other often, so take it as a gift, no pressure.”

Winking lightly, she opened the jewelry box to inspect the pearls. The apprentice returned with a glossy shirt and handed it to Asil. Pointing to the fitting rooms, she directed him. Following her gesture, Asil approached a row of doors around a pillar. Only one, the most ornate and large, was closed. From within came the soft rustle of fabric. Asil knocked quietly.

“Who is it?”

A small voice came from inside. Asil knocked again. Glancing behind to ensure no one else could hear, he saw the shop owner and her apprentice laughing loudly and chatting animatedly. The pillar and wall blocked their view, so unless they deliberately came around, they wouldn’t see him. When Asil knocked a third time without responding, an irritated reply came: “I’ll be out soon.” Asil swallowed dryly, clenching his cold, trembling hand tightly.

“Lora, the waist is too…”

“Shh.”

Asil clamped a hand over his own mouth to stifle his words and pushed his body inside, entering the fitting room. He locked the door firmly and checked for any movement outside, but the women were still engrossed in their conversation. Slowly, Asil removed his trembling hand. In the cramped fitting room, standing face-to-face, were the Richard siblings, reunited after two years.

“O-Oppa.”

Kana, staring blankly up at Asil’s face, whispered in a choked, muffled voice. Asil carefully studied Kana’s face. Having grown significantly in two years, she no longer looked like a young girl by any measure, but to Asil’s eyes, she was still the little sister of his past. Her curly blonde hair, the same shade as Graim’s and reminiscent of their mother’s, and her ever-sparkling eyes—it was his Kana. He pulled her into a tight embrace before speaking rapidly.

“We can’t talk long. What in the world happened? No, how… I heard you were shot. Are you okay?”

“…”

“What… Why are you marrying Valery? He didn’t force you, did he? Kana, answer me.”

Despite Asil’s relentless questions, Kana only stared at her brother’s face, offering no real response.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t tell me you actually… love him?”

“I can’t say.”

“Kana, no. Not him. Valery is truly dangerous. He’s not the person you think he is. Kana, please.”

“I… can’t say.”

Kana turned her head, avoiding his gaze. Her trembling lips and tightly shut eyes were unbearable to watch. She didn’t want to marry Valery—Asil couldn’t possibly miss that. Kana was his sister. He had known her longer than anyone in the world.

“I know. There’s some kind of situation, isn’t there? Could it be…”

For a moment, Asil wondered if Valery had orchestrated this to trap him, but even Valery wouldn’t use his marriage for something so petty. Asil continued talking to Kana while haphazardly changing into the shirt he held. The laughter outside was gradually fading.

“Kana, I’m at the shop across from Kish. Call me to a place where we can meet quietly… soon.”

“Oppa…”

As Asil turned the fitting room’s handle, Kana called out in a small voice. He turned to look at his sister. Seeing Kana in an ornate dress with her hair elegantly pinned up, Asil suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Though her face was unmistakably familiar, in that moment, she felt like a stranger he was meeting for the first time.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Just… everything, all of it.”

You don’t have to forgive me. Kana murmured this, then turned away with a pained expression. Asil, called by the shop owner, forced his stiff legs to move and left the fitting room.

For the next few days, Asil diligently played the role of Lang’s fake apprentice. When Lang asked him to cut fabric, he cut it; when told to thread gems onto string, he did so. Lang praised him, saying he had talent. Asil found being a designer’s assistant far more suited to him than pretending to be a reporter. The repetitive manual labor cleared his mind. While keeping his hands busy, Asil waited for Kana’s contact.

When Asil returned from the market with new tailoring scissors at Lang’s request, Lang handed him a crisp card with a solemn, secretive expression. The card, made of fine paper, bore an address written in elegant script. Lang said Kana had visited while Asil was out.

“She came to pick a tie for her husband-to-be. It was a wine-colored tie—won’t suit Lord Valery at all. Anyway… she gave me this and asked me to pass it to you. There’s an address. Are you going?”

“I have to. It might be my last chance.”

Asil smiled sadly, studying Lang. He knew Lang was a good person, but he couldn’t fully trust him. Even Lang’s guileless expression, as if completely fooled, didn’t fully reassure him. This was Marknae, and Valery was close by. If any hint of Asil’s identity leaked, the past two years of hardship would be for nothing. For Graim, still in the remote village, Asil had to return safely. He needed to meet Kana discreetly, learn her situation, and, if possible, quietly escape the capital with her. Rumors said the wedding was three days away, so meeting today and leaving immediately would be ideal.

Asil examined the card from Lang and headed to the address. Leaving the boutique district, he crossed Marknae’s largest plaza. Water sprayed from a fountain, scattering in the air. Children, splashed by droplets, giggled as they ran past Asil. It was peaceful—utterly peaceful—but Asil’s heart burned with anxiety and worry.

Was someone following him? Was that person recognizing his face and trailing him? Asil pulled his hat lower and tugged the scarf around his neck up to his chin, nearly choking himself. He hunched his shoulders and neck, walking as quickly as possible. He wanted to run but feared it might draw suspicion, so he restrained himself.

After weaving through alleys, he arrived at a small temple built of white marble. Dedicated to the empire’s main deity, it stood at the end of the street, making the area quiet and empty. A guard stood at the temple’s entrance. Asil tightly gripped the card in his pocket and paused before the temple. The guard blocked him, glaring.

“What’s your business?”

“I have an appointment.”

“There’s an important ceremony today. No entry.”

“…Ceremony?”

Before Asil could stop himself, he foolishly repeated the guard’s words. He stood frozen, doubting his ears. A ceremony? What kind? A faint bell rang from behind the temple doors. As Asil stood still, a man brushed past, handing the guard a piece of paper.

“Phew, almost late from oversleeping. The wedding hasn’t started yet, right?”

“The bride hasn’t entered. Are you a guest of the groom?”

“Yeah, yeah. Close friends. Thanks for your work.”

Asil stared at the paper the man gave the guard. It was identical to the one Kana had given him—a luxurious card with an address and gold-foil floral patterns on the edges. When he first received it, he’d been surprised that a mere note was written on such expensive paper.

“Hey, I said no entry today.”

“Here… I have it.”

“You’re a guest? From the groom’s side?”

“…The bride’s side.”

The guard didn’t detain Asil after seeing the card. Asil pushed open the heavy temple doors and entered. His steps dragged involuntarily, and he had to force his heavy feet forward, almost staggering. He couldn’t think straight.

“Kana invited me to her wedding? Why? Doesn’t she know Valery’s looking for me?”

She might not. If Valery hadn’t told her, how would she know? She likely didn’t know about Asil’s connection to Valery either. That’s why she was marrying him, right? But what about Valery? What was he thinking, marrying Kana? Just six months ago, he’d been scouring the empire for Asil. Why would someone like that suddenly find Kana and hold a wedding? Heading toward the guest seats, Asil suddenly ducked behind a temple pillar. An inexplicable anxiety gripped him.

He couldn’t understand. No, it didn’t make sense. The only explanation was that Valery had fallen in love with Kana and set aside his toxic history with Asil. But that wasn’t a welcome thought either. Asil had no intention of watching his sister marry a maniac like Valery. If Kana truly loved him, Asil might not stop her, but the Kana he saw in the fitting room had been drowning in anxiety and guilt.

Asil pressed his forehead against the pillar, grinding his teeth. Should he leave now and plan for later? But that would mean abandoning Kana to marry Valery… He couldn’t flee alone. Could he leave Kana in Valery’s clutches and save himself? Asil couldn’t forgive himself for such an act. A fierce, almost obsessive family loyalty surged within him.

“The bride’s entrance!”

A famous opera tune used in wedding marches filled the temple. Kana slowly appeared from behind the opposite pillar. Wearing a dark green wedding dress, she anxiously scanned the crowd, clearly looking for someone. Biting his lip at her searching gaze, Asil realized she might have invited him to help her escape a wedding she didn’t want.

Kana didn’t love Valery. Valery might love Kana. At the same time, Valery could either kill or forgive Asil. He’d hunted Asil until six months ago. Yet now, he was holding a quiet, sudden wedding with Kana, and she had invited Asil.

Countless possibilities swirled chaotically in Asil’s mind.

“No matter how I think about it, it’s too strange. She said those things in the fitting room, so why… We could’ve talked earlier. But Kana wouldn’t betray me. We’re family. She doesn’t know anything. She just invited her brother to her wedding. She probably doesn’t know Valery’s desperate to find and kill me. Valery’s cunning enough to deceive her. He must have lured her with sweet words.”

Above all, Valery would have known. If Asil heard about this wedding, he’d come for Kana. Was he truly in love with her, planning to quietly bury his past with Asil? Surely he wouldn’t stage a wedding just to catch him. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event, after all.

Was Asil overthinking? Could they have coincidentally met and fallen in love during his absence? But Kana’s face didn’t look like that of someone in love. Damn it! His head felt like it would explode. The same thoughts looped endlessly.

Asil hesitated, stepping back. No matter how he racked his brain, he couldn’t devise a way to escape with Kana. Not far off, a tall blonde man stood with his back to them, waiting for Kana. Guests, likely the groom’s allies, murmured blessings for the ceremony. Asil would surely be stopped before reaching Kana.

Backing away, Asil’s back hit something solid and large, forcing him to stop. Thinking it was a pillar, he turned, but a large hand suddenly grabbed his chin, forcing him to face forward. A cold, angular hand gripped his jaw tightly. Asil could only stare helplessly at the scene unfolding before him. Like a deer pinned by a predator’s paw, he blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by despair at the all-too-familiar presence behind him.

Kana walked toward the blonde man. The man turned, grasping her hand firmly. His hair, so light it seemed almost silver, and his dark green eyes marked him as undeniably handsome, but…

“Trying to leave without even seeing your sister’s wedding?”

It was a face Asil had never seen. Not the man the newspapers raved about.

“She’s marrying the person she loves more than life itself…”

“Ugh…”

“You should be celebrating up close.”

The grip on his chin tightened. Though his throat wasn’t held, Asil couldn’t breathe. The voice pouring into his ears instantly dredged up past memories. A voice he hadn’t heard in so long, yet still as smooth as cream with its pleasant cadence, spoke words that were cruel and sharp despite the gentle tone. He always spoke like this—kindly delivering harsh words.

“Why are you trembling so much?”

“Hng, hgh…”

“You left without looking back, fearless as ever.”

“Urk!”

“But now that you’re caught, you’re scared.”

Asil’s hair was suddenly yanked back, forcing him to look up. The forceful grip made his scalp sting, but there was no time to feel pain. Sweet music and words of blessing filled his ears, but facing the figure before him, Asil felt as if he’d been thrown into a vacuum. He could neither hear nor see anything; the only thing he could perceive was the faintly shadowed, statuesque face.

“C-Colonel…”

The stammered address tightened the grip on his hair. He curled the corners of his lips into a loose smile, shaking Asil’s head lightly. Then, in a disciplinary whisper, he said:

“You should call me Colonel, Asil.”

“Argh…!”

“You’ve forgotten even more. Your manners must be gone too… After I barely tamed you.”

His brass-colored eyes, still gleaming like gold, scanned Asil’s face thoroughly. Asil’s heart pounded violently, as if it might burst. His entire body shook with an indescribable thrill akin to terror. Unable to face Valery, Asil finally closed his eyes. Blocking his vision, he became hyper-aware of the slow, steady breathing. Sweet breath poured over Asil’s cheeks and nose, carrying the faint, familiar scent of cigars.

The bell rang again. During a wedding, a bell signaled the vow-sealing kiss. The bride and groom, pledging eternal love, shared a brief kiss before the guests—a key moment in the traditional temple ceremony.

Startled by the resounding bell, Asil opened his eyes reflexively. Valery roughly pulled him into an embrace and pressed his lips against Asil’s. As the fierce kiss invaded his mouth, claiming everything, Asil’s eyes slowly closed once more.