It Begins with Isaac Chapter 14.1

“Find him.”

Kaine had barely finished securing the kingdom’s soldiers when the summons came. Sweating profusely while overseeing the chaotic surroundings, Kaine whipped his head around at the chilling command issued from behind. Despite having assigned a medic to tend to him, Valery had approached closely, heedless of his condition. Kaine, stepping back to create some distance from the uncomfortably close proximity, stammered in a bewildered voice as he responded to Valery.

“You’re telling me to find…”

“Asil Richard.”

Valery murmured quietly. His suppressed voice enunciated the familiar name syllable by syllable, less a call and more a gnashing rumination. Kaine glanced at the head of Martis that Valery held and the blood still seeping from Valery’s abdomen, letting his words trail off with a hesitant “Uh…” He had a sinking feeling about who was responsible for this catastrophe.

“No way, that guy…”

“Can’t you hear me?”

Valery, roughly tossing Martis’s head aside, strode toward Kaine. He grabbed Kaine’s shoulder with a blood-soaked hand and whispered low in his ear. The grip was so tight it felt like his shoulder might shatter, but Kaine was too busy studying Valery’s face, now inches away, to register the pain.

“Find him quietly. Understood?”

“…Yes.”

“Make sure no one knows you’re looking for Asil, and keep his name from spreading everywhere.”

Having finished speaking, Valery shoved Kaine’s shoulder roughly and climbed into the car, leaning back. The medic, who had been hovering nearby and whimpering, hurriedly approached Valery to begin emergency treatment. He poured alcohol liberally over the torn abdomen and meticulously stitched the deeply stabbed wound. Despite the lack of significant anesthesia, which should have been excruciating, Valery merely furrowed his brow and occasionally muttered curses, never raising his voice. As the heated needle sewed his flesh like fabric, Valery stared out the window, lost in thought.

“Done?”

“Yes! But you must seek proper treatment in the capital. There’s a risk of infection…”

“Can you drive?”

“I misheard you!”

“I asked if you can drive. Damn it, do you want to make me repeat myself?”

Valery raised his hand and struck the medic’s head with a resounding thud. The medic, reeling from the sudden blow, rubbed his throbbing head and shouted his response.

“Yes!”

“Get in the driver’s seat.”

“…Yes!”

Though the abrupt order was puzzling, questioning it again seemed likely to result in more than just a hit to the head. The medic, on the verge of tears, scrambled to the driver’s seat. His experience driving was limited to a few times chauffeuring high-ranking officers, but he lacked the courage to admit it. With his hands on the wheel, standing rigidly at attention, Valery, seated in the back, leaned his forehead against the window and announced the destination. It wasn’t Marknae or Myrine.

“Go to Nian.”

The medic didn’t question this either. He merely responded with a trembling but loud affirmation.

The medic’s driving was woefully inept. Confused by the pedals, he repeatedly screeched to a halt, shouting apologies. Normally, Valery would have kicked him out and driven himself, but his condition, even by his own admission, wasn’t great. Valery slowly rubbed his throbbing abdomen and gazed out the window. The sun was already high in the sky. It was more than enough time for Asil to have seen the newspaper and confirmed Valery’s survival. What had Asil thought upon reading it? Perhaps he was berating himself, thinking it would have been better to kill Valery on the spot to avoid future trouble. Valery certainly would have. If he were Asil, he would have killed anything that could cause problems, cleanly severing ties to start a new life.

In that sense, Valery found Asil’s weak mentality satisfying.

“I should kill him.”

No matter how he thought about it, he should kill him. The audacity was unforgivable. To cause such a mess and flee without fear? First, he’d find the guy and make him kneel. Faced with imminent death, Asil would surely lose his nerve, begging for forgiveness. Valery planned to intimidate him, threatening a gruesome death if he cried and pleaded for mercy.

“For now…”

Imagining Asil desperately trying to appease him to avoid death softened Valery’s murderous intent. Instead of killing the guy who’d set aside his meager pride to grovel, it might be better to ensure he never dared try such a stunt again. Hadn’t Valery already decided to keep him by his side for a long time?

Asil had been his for a while, and killing him would only be Valery’s loss. Closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, Valery thought, Yes, Asil is mine. No matter how disobedient, no matter that he’d stabbed and fled from his master, the fact that Asil belonged to him remained unchanged. Unless Valery discarded him first, Asil was rightfully his forever.

“I need to punish him properly so he never tries that again.”

He’d definitely been too lenient for a while. Asil was the type to throw a fit over a few slaps. That made Valery hesitant to discipline him, even when he acted out. During their encounters, a light spank to set the mood would make Asil wail as if he were dying. Valery couldn’t bring himself to hit him the way he did others. How Asil planned to be a soldier with such fragility was beyond him, but Valery had tried to avoid doing things Asil disliked. Seeing him cry with wet eyes and tongue was pleasing, but watching him scream in pain and gasp made Valery feel oddly troubled.

“At first, that look turned me on…”

He used to thrust into him without caring whether Asil cried in pain. When had he started paying attention to such trivial things?

Beating Asil wouldn’t control him anyway. The only way to manipulate him was through the Richard family. Valery couldn’t understand why Asil was so attached to his kin, but it was a familial bond he found satisfying. Yet now, even that leverage was limited. Hearing that all but the youngest of the family had died, Valery felt uneasy—not out of sympathy, but from the frustration of losing most of Asil’s weaknesses.

Valery gazed at Nian’s lordly castle approaching beyond the window. Lowering the window to feel the cool breeze, he thought, What’s lost can be replaced with something new.

“You lost him?”

“I’m sorry. It seems he’s already slipped away.”

Valery had naively believed he could have Asil back by his side in a day or two, but as he looked down at Kaine, who was bowing and begging forgiveness, he slowly realized how foolish that assumption was. Valery didn’t bother hiding the rage surging within him. Cursing sharply, he brutally beat the soldiers standing around as a so-called search party. The sound of his fists striking their cheeks echoed savagely in the room, and the lord of Nian, standing pale-faced in the corner with his head bowed, let out intermittent groans. Annoyed by the incessant whimpering, like a faint rat’s squeak, Valery roared.

“Why don’t you shut up? Do you want to get hit too?”

“N-no, no.”

“Then why the hell do you look so guilty with that pale face?”

A soldier, dangling limply from Valery’s grip on his collar, collapsed to the floor with a thud. Valery kicked the crumpled body hard, sending it rolling toward the lord.

“Did you let him go?”

“N-no, I didn’t…”

The lord shook his head in denial, but he couldn’t stop Valery from approaching. As the large figure drew closer, the lord’s frail body trembled like a tree shedding leaves. Valery pinned the lord against the wall, leaning in close. The crude intimidation made the soldiers and the division commander in the room look away, pretending not to notice.

“You must think I’m a joke.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Urgh!”

The lord was shaken back and forth, his nape gripped by Valery. Barely touching the floor with his toes, the lord swayed as Valery shook him. Born a noble and never treated this way, the lord’s face flushed red with humiliation at being disgraced in front of everyone. Yet he couldn’t resist. Valery’s face, inches away, was unmistakably unhinged. He was crazed over failing to catch his nephew. If the lord provoked him further with feeble resistance, the consequences were unthinkable.

The lord even took a few blows from Valery. The brutal sound of the strikes left him with swollen cheeks, unable to appear in public for days. When Valery left Nian, the lord’s wife and son saw him off in his stead. The lord was fortunate. Valery spared him solely because he was Asil’s uncle—one of the few remaining significant kin who could serve as a major trap to capture Asil. His utility was too valuable to be discarded in a fit of anger.

Valery tried to quell his rage by calming his mind. The sudden irritation was hard to suppress, but thinking that the reunion was only delayed by a few days cleared his head slightly. They’d meet soon enough. Asil would be back in his arms, crying and laughing only in Valery’s presence.

This self-soothing stirred a subtle misery, but Valery didn’t know the name of this feeling. It was something he’d never experienced in his life.

“The search party found a trace.”

Looking at Kaine, who was spouting platitudes, Valery sneered. Asil could flee, but he was still within the empire. Valery’s soldiers were spread across the entire nation. Wherever Asil was, Valery’s men were there too.

“A public wanted notice would catch him quickly.”

“No wanted notice.”

Valery rummaged roughly through his pocket and pulled out a cigar. Shoving it between his teeth and puffing smoke repeatedly, he looked quite agitated. Kaine didn’t ask why. Valery didn’t want to attach any charges to Asil. Even Kaine still didn’t know exactly what crime Asil had committed. When pressed for details, Valery would glare menacingly and refuse to answer. From context, Kaine deduced Asil had boldly attacked Valery, but with the man himself silent, even that was uncertain.

“What, if we issue a wanted notice and catch him, are you really going to execute him?”

Valery turned the tables, berating Kaine. Intimidated by the harsh tone, Kaine, feeling unjustly accused, asked back with a hint of defiance, though to the listener, it was endlessly polite.

“Isn’t that why you’re chasing him?”

“…He needs to be punished.”

Without anyone knowing. Murmuring the rest, he slowly exhaled smoke.

Valery faced the reality that things weren’t going as planned when he received a report that Asil had slipped away again. It had been over a year since he started tracking him. When he began, he thought it would take a month at most. Valery was gradually losing his composure.

Even though Asil had entered the military academy as the top student, he was just a freshman. Valery had considered him a civilian who could handle a gun or knife at best, but Asil showed exceptional talent for evasion. Erasing his tracks, moving from place to place, and calmly disguising himself with a new identity were skills worthy of praise as a talent. Had he stayed at the academy, he could have been trained as a spy for the empire. But Kaine didn’t find Asil’s talent admirable.

“Lieutenant. The colonel is at it again…”

The more adept Asil was at escaping, the more his superior’s madness grew in proportion. Upon hearing the soldier’s report, Kaine set aside the documents he was reading and stood. The hesitant, fidgeting tone elicited an involuntary sigh. Kaine was more accustomed than anyone to cleaning up Valery’s messes, but even he was finding it increasingly taxing lately.

“Entering.”

The moment he stepped into Valery’s tent, the metallic smell of blood stung his nose. Though he had only just crossed the threshold, the soles of his boots were already wet. The floor of the tent, lined with fine carpets, was a mess of blood pools. Each step splashed blood droplets with a squelch. Kaine wrinkled his nose at the nauseating smell. He wanted to cover his mouth to block the odor, but he feared showing disrespect in front of an unhinged Valery.

His superior always inspired a vague dread, but aside from his rampant violence, he was a reasonably rational figure. Now, however, Valery was no different from a savage who’d lost all judgment. He seemed like a mindless beast, ready to tear apart anyone at whim, heedless of decorum or discipline. For months, Kaine instinctively tensed his jaw and limbs when facing Valery. An irrational wariness gripped him, as if his superior might snap his neck at any moment.

“Clean it up.”

“…Yes.”

Around Valery lay people who, minutes ago, were likely fine, now near death and discarded like trash. They were indeed guilty, but their crimes didn’t warrant being beaten to a pulp without trial. At most, they deserved short sentences or forced labor after losing their status. Yet Kaine didn’t object to Valery’s actions. He disposed of the barely alive bodies as ordered and replaced the blood-soaked carpets.

“Any news?”

“None. I’m sorry.”

Valery, pacing the barely tidied tent, broke the silence. Kaine, who had been surveying the now-familiar interior with satisfaction, quickly bowed. It was a question he heard multiple times a day, but the answer was always the same. Valery’s subsequent outbursts were equally predictable.

His smoking had increased lately, and Valery yanked the cigar from his mouth and threw it at Kaine. A brief, cold silence swept through the tent, followed by Valery kicking over furniture in a rage. A chair shattered loudly, and a small wooden desk splintered. Finding furniture of this quality in the barracks was now nearly impossible. Kaine swallowed a sigh and apologized again.

Kaine remained deferential until Valery’s tantrum subsided. He knew Valery spared him because he valued Kaine’s ability to quietly clean up his chaos. Kaine did his utmost to fulfill his role. As Valery, barely calming himself, swept back his disheveled hair and caught his breath, Kaine quickly stacked the broken chair in a corner of the tent.

“How long do I have to be patient?”

“I’m sorry. They say he slipped away in the southeast.”

“Just one person. You can’t find one person, and now…”

Valery’s chest tightened, and he paused to regulate his breathing. Lately, he struggled to control his actions. His head and limbs seemed to act independently, and despite efforts to stay rational, he’d find his surroundings in ruins. He’d always been quick to violence, but recently, even he recognized his brutality was excessive. He was aware of it, but nothing changed. The realization was fleeting, and impulses surged constantly.

Leaving Kaine standing rigidly, he exited the tent. Striding down the polished dirt path, soldiers tending to weapons bowed one by one. Valery turned away without acknowledging them. Leaving the barracks and reaching a secluded forest, he stopped abruptly. Pulling his hand from his pocket, an old device came with it. Attached to the bottom of the small, worn black pager was a frayed cloth with a name written on it, secured with adhesive.

Valery slowly ran his thumb over the cloth, careful not to rub off the inked name. Lowering his thumb from the soft fabric, he habitually turned on the pager. The grating mechanical sound disrupted the quiet forest. Clutching the pager tightly for a while, he shoved it back into his pocket.

The reunion he’d confidently predicted was now impossibly distant. Lately, Valery was consumed by anxiety that he might never see Asil again. Constant unease kept him from sleeping properly. Even in brief naps, he chased Asil in dreams. If he could at least meet him in those illusions, the torment might be bearable, but Valery failed to find Asil even in sleep. Waking from frantic dreams, reality was no different from the night before.

For the past year, Valery hadn’t had a single day without failure. This relentless cycle of setbacks was unfamiliar. Falling behind, losing, and facing repeated disappointments were equally foreign. He began to wonder how far he’d fall. What was it about that guy? Why did Asil drive him to live like a half-mad invalid? He felt wronged. Even that sense of injustice was new to Valery. Yet he could no longer even boast emptily about killing Asil.

He’d realized it was something he could never do. Kill Asil? How? How could he kill him? He couldn’t beat him to a pulp like others or slit his throat out of annoyance. Who was killing whom? For a year chasing Asil, Valery raged about killing him, but as the anger faded, he imagined failing to do so, instead embracing Asil’s frail body in despair. Repeating this for days, months, and now, he couldn’t even verbally kill Asil anymore.

Wandering the forest, Valery rolled the pager in his pocket. When emotions surged thinking of Asil, when he missed him unbearably, he’d pull out the pager and stare at the name written in elegant script.

“Truly mad.”

Valery muttered, mocking his own state. He was so mentally cornered that if someone saw this as an opportunity to assassinate him, it wouldn’t be surprising. He felt daily how significant Asil’s presence was within him, letting its magnitude grow unchecked. He could no longer deny it.

“I’m mad…”

He didn’t deny it. The name in his hand, what it meant to him, and how desperately he craved it.

Returning to the capital was unplanned. Valery had been overseeing a barracks in the southeast, where Asil’s trail had gone cold, for a month. His original plan was to keep tracking Asil and move to any new lead immediately. Had it not been for the emperor’s summons, deeming Valery’s year-long obsession a waste, the abrupt return wouldn’t have happened.

Entering the audience chamber, he was greeted not by the emperor but by Bride. Valery knew the emperor’s chronic illness had worsened, but seeing Bride handle even minor audiences raised his brow. The emperor had named Bride as his successor, but it was merely a shallow expectation placed on a capable child. With enough external pressure, that decision could change. Proof was the recent public appearances by the frail third prince, rumored to be weak, on the emperor’s behalf.

“His Majesty must trust you quite a bit.”

“He relies on me the most.”

“And loves the third prince?”

“If you’re trying to stir trouble between siblings, stop. There’s already enough scheming to drive a wedge between us.”

Valery was well aware of the third prince’s social maneuvering among nobles. He chuckled and slumped into a chair. Spreading his legs habitually and resting his arm on his thigh, he stared at Bride, who pushed a cup of tea toward him.

“Siblings in the imperial family? That’s rich.”

“We were quite a harmonious family, unlike you and the grand duke.”

“Oh? So you killed Eric?”

Mentioning Eric, assassinated by Jenuca’s poison, made Bride’s face flush red.

“I’ve told you countless times, I didn’t kill Eric…!”

Bride, raising her voice in anger, caught herself with a cough and composed her expression. Valery smirked briefly at her efforts to offer tea and snacks, feigning attentiveness.

“You want something. And it’s not an appointment set by His Majesty, is it?”

Then there was no reason to stay. He stood, raising his knee. He felt Bride scrambling to follow, but Valery didn’t care if a storm of succession swept the imperial family or if Bride’s sibling bond with the third prince cracked. He had no spare attention to divide. His focus was solely on Asil.

“Wait!”

Bride, taking a half-step to block Valery, shouted while catching her breath. Annoyed, Valery pushed her aside. But she didn’t yield easily, clinging to him with determination.

“Bride, how do you plan to survive being so out of touch? Haven’t you heard?”

“…”

“My mood’s getting worse every day. Didn’t you hear?”

He thought she’d back off, but Bride grinned.

“I know. I know you’ve been wandering like a masterless dog.”

“…Move.”

“Really? I might be able to find your master. Still want me to move?”

Bride mocked Valery, but seeing his darkening expression and bulging temple veins, she shut her mouth. She didn’t want to provoke him further. She needed to stay in his good graces, which was why she’d personally sought news that could make Valery lose control.

“That person you’re looking for…”

The name escaped her. But she vividly recalled the pale face Valery had held, struggling to quell his fervor.

“They came to the academy asking for news.”

“…”

“A young blonde woman. Is that enough?”

Bride finished and glanced at Valery’s face. She was stunned. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen such a look of ecstasy.

“Yes. That’s enough.”

With that short reply, Valery vanished down the corridor. He walked quickly, almost running, abandoning all decorum. Bride watched his retreating figure, utterly shocked.

Everything was going smoothly. Finding Asil’s kin, discovering she had a fiancé, and that the fiancé was from a disgraced family—it was all perfect. Valery didn’t believe in gods and had scorned the divine even more after losing Asil, but now he could slightly empathize with the devout. Someone was clearly guiding him, pushing and pulling to ensure his plans went off without a hitch.

Manipulating public opinion through the media was easy. He simply didn’t deny the photos with Kana or the fabricated stories they spun. His goal was to spread articles featuring Kana’s face across the empire, even to remote villages without electricity. No matter where Asil was hiding, even if he’d fled to another country, he wouldn’t be able to miss it.

Asil wouldn’t stay away. When it came to family, he was desperately fervent. Even if he suspected the situation, he’d come, drawn like a moth to a sweet fragrance.

“I can’t talk long. What happened? No, how… I heard you were shot. Are you okay? Why are you marrying Valery? He didn’t force you, did he? Kana, answer me.”

Hearing Asil’s voice through the wiretap, Valery was frozen. The low, soft voice seeping into his ears—was it really Asil’s? It felt slightly unfamiliar, different from his memory.

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

Asil was practically begging. His anxious, trembling voice was clear even through the poor-quality wiretap, every word a plea to sway Kana. But Valery was more conscious of his own name coming from Asil’s lips. Why did it sound so strange?

The conversation was brief. Valery turned off the disconnected wiretap and stood. Approaching the mansion’s window, he looked down at the capital’s panorama. From the elevated mansion, he could see the boutique street where Asil had just been, reduced to the size of a matchstick.

Asil was there. In this capital. Within a distance that felt close enough to touch, they were breathing the same air. Valery pressed his aching chest, feeling his heart pound heavily. It raced so fiercely it seemed to echo in his head. He gripped the windowsill, his fingertips whitening and veins bulging on his hand. Thinking of their imminent reunion, the torment that had plagued him coalesced, growing larger. It filled his mind, then his heart and gut, chattering loudly.

What will you do when you find Asil? He hates you. What do you plan to do? You hesitate to kill, hit, or punish him, so what do you want to do with him by your side?

“Shut up…”

He abandoned you. He tried to kill you. To Asil, you’re an enemy. What are you hoping for? What do you expect? What do you think will change now? Or are you deluded into thinking something can change…

Bang. Valery raised his fist and struck the windowsill hard. The glass cracked with the force, and his chaotic thoughts quieted. He exhaled deeply, rubbing his throbbing forehead. These were matters for later. His priority wasn’t what Asil thought of him. It was ensuring Asil was fully in his grasp, unable to leave again.

What did it matter how it happened? Was there a way to keep beside him someone who fled without looking back, hating him, without force?

An Asil who stayed willingly, promising to remain and never leave—that was a fantasy. It existed only in Valery’s delusions. Even in dreams, it never happened.

He’d always forced Asil to stay, and Asil stayed because he couldn’t leave. Their relationship had been that way for a long time. A relationship Valery started and only he could shatter. A strange, bizarre relationship without a name.

Valery didn’t want to name his relationship with Asil. He had no intention of being soft and giving him another chance to escape. He didn’t want to hit him, but if it came to it, he was prepared to raise his hand. If he could make Asil too terrified to move, he resolved to be even more ruthless than before.

Days later, reuniting with Asil, Valery made his decision.

When Asil, backing away hesitantly, collided with him, and Valery restrained his turning body, forcing it to move as he wished, he felt a chilling thrill. Had holding Asil and controlling him always felt this good? Feeling the faint trembling under his palm, Valery shivered slightly. Gripping Asil’s jaw and whispering in his ear, he heard Asil gasp softly. Pulling his soft hair to tilt his head up, Valery finally faced Asil, whose trembling eyes looked up at him. It was really Asil. It was him.

On his pale, bloodless face, Valery wanted to crush his lips and mark him like a dog reunited with its master, but Asil was afraid of him now. Good. Fear was better than contempt. If Asil didn’t underestimate him, he wouldn’t dare flee again.

Kissing his lips and tightly holding his trembling back, Valery thought he could never lose Asil again. If he let him slip away, he’d have no strength left to chase. Repeating that hell would surely drive him mad. Kissing Asil, Valery fully realized this. It was a strange, euphoric feeling, like a discoverer encountering something new. Valery had rediscovered Asil. And how much he… He could never return to before knowing this vivid ecstasy.

“Did you skip eating again today?”

Valery slowly walked toward the window where Asil stood. His steps quickened instinctively, but he forced his thighs to slow his pace. As the distance closed, Asil’s shoulders, gazing out the window, stiffened. When Valery pressed against his back and tightly embraced his waist, Asil’s body tensed, flinching up to his nape. Unfazed, Valery kissed his nape and under his ear, making ticklish sounds. New teeth marks appeared on skin already marred with red.

Chup, chup. The soft kisses grew wetter, producing sticky sounds as saliva met skin. Valery left a trail of marks along Asil’s neck and gripped his cheek. Turning him to face him, Asil’s gaze finally met Valery’s.

“I’m asking you.”

“…I just woke up. I’m not hungry…”

“Your brother.”

The brother Valery referred to was Graim, whom Asil had left far away. After nights of rolling with Asil, Valery brought Graim to the mansion. Asil, seeing Graim embrace him tearfully, had to move his dry lips when Graim appeared at dinner that evening, dressed like a refined young master. Graim looked content and happy—with his soft silk shirt, the lavish dinner, and Valery’s surprisingly kind treatment. All of it.

He was only twelve. He likely didn’t grasp the tension between Valery and his brother, but Asil felt suffocated. The more Graim laughed, the grayer Asil’s face became. The boy didn’t know he was Valery’s new hostage.

Today, Graim had gone with the mansion’s servants to explore the capital. Watching him board the car with excited steps, Asil found himself staring blankly out the window. The view of Marknae filled the window, naturally in Valery’s room.

Since being brought here, Asil couldn’t go anywhere but Valery’s room and the mansion’s interior. He wasn’t physically restrained, but the constant shadowing by multiple servants was oppressive. If he headed to the garden, the gardener eyed him sharply; if he wandered the halls, cleaners watched his every step. The entire place was a surveillance net. Feeling stifled, he avoided anywhere with others’ presence.

Staying in Valery’s room, lamenting his situation and passing idle time, Valery would return. He’d ask what Asil had been doing, already knowing from reports, then kiss the exposed skin over his clothes and slowly lay him on the bed. Like now.

“Even if you’re not hungry, you need to eat.”

Valery lifted Asil’s loose shirt. His once-defined abdomen was now noticeably thinner. Pressing the softened belly with his palm, Valery’s hand crept upward from the abdomen to the ribs and chest, gripping Asil’s right breast tightly.

“Your chest is smaller too…”

“Ugh!”

“All that effort to build it up, wasted.”

He murmured, rubbing Asil’s nipple with his thumb. His rough fingers pinched and mashed the soft flesh, toying with it carelessly. Flicking the hardened nipple under relentless stimulation, Valery glanced at Asil’s face. Asil, head turned away and eyes tightly shut, was straining not to look at Valery, his expression one of endurance.

Valery kept his gaze on Asil’s face, continuing to stimulate his chest. He pressed the nipple with his nail, rubbing it with his thumb until it seemed it might come off. Still, Asil only bit his lip, his cheeks trembling, refusing to look at Valery or make a sound.

Yes, Asil didn’t resist. He didn’t reject Valery. With a resigned face, as if everything was over, he let himself be rolled around in Valery’s grasp. There was no drive left to move him, no spark to revive his will. Asil was merely enduring, and that endurance was solely for Graim, caught in Valery’s clutches.

Fully aware of this, Valery spoke with a crooked smile.

“Are you protesting now?”

Valery twisted Asil’s nipple hard when he remained silent. Asil cried out, shaking his head violently. Still refusing to look at Valery, he rubbed the back of his head against the sheets. It wasn’t a humiliated expression. The groan was a reflex to sudden stimulation, and Asil closed his eyes again, distancing himself from the situation like a bystander watching a passing storm.

Valery wanted Asil to fear him, to be too scared to flee again, but he hadn’t wanted him to act like a lifeless corpse. He released Asil’s chest and roughly grabbed both cheeks. Waiting silently until Asil opened his eyes, Asil exhaled heavily and reluctantly lifted his eyelids.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Is there something you want to do?”

“…”

“Something you want to eat. Something you want.”

“Nothing.”

Asil replied in a flat tone. Even if he had wants, he wouldn’t tell Valery. If he craved food or desired something, he’d never ask Valery. Staring into those dark eyes, Valery suddenly recalled the past.

If he hadn’t treated Asil that way after reclaiming him. If he hadn’t forced him in the torture chamber or drugged and pressed him down. Would this cold demeanor be different? Back then, consumed by frantic excitement, he’d wanted to make Asil fear and dread him. He was obsessed with showing Asil that no matter how hard he tried to escape, he faced someone who could prevent even the attempt.

Before, Asil’s obedience was enough. But watching Asil ignore him, neither struggling nor pleading nor resisting, Valery slowly realized he no longer wanted mere submission. The Asil he wanted was different.

At some point, the number of servants trailing Asil drastically decreased. They didn’t leave him alone, but the obsessive surveillance eased. Spending time in Valery’s room, Asil began wandering the mansion freely. Even amid his gloom, sitting alone in a room passing time was tedious. He disliked his weakened, flabby body. Living in such a frail state was a first.

He wanted to clear his mind with exercise. Like the days when he’d climb mountains frantically to sweat out complex thoughts, he felt he needed that to survive.

“Where are you going?”

As Asil, pretending otherwise, headed toward the gate while wandering the garden, a servant watching from afar hurried over. Not daring to block the honored guest sharing the master’s room, the servant stood close, peering anxiously at Asil’s face. Asil paused his steps toward the gate and looked down at the servant.

“I want to exercise a bit… I’ll just take a short walk.”

“How about the garden? Strolling the mansion’s garden should be plenty of exercise…”

The servant suggested, nervous that Asil might refuse. Facing such a dejected expression, as if a touch would bring tears, Asil couldn’t insist. If he defied Valery’s orders and left, the servant would bear the consequences. He couldn’t let an innocent person suffer for his desire to sweat. Asil took a deep breath, filling his chest. Suppressing a sigh, he turned back, and a relieved groan came from behind.

Asil wandered slowly through the garden as the servant had suggested. The notion that it would serve as exercise was not an empty promise. Even when viewed from the window, the garden had seemed vast, and as he strolled at a leisurely pace, its end was nowhere in sight. Feeling as if he were idly walking through a small forest, Asil regained a rare sense of calm and silently followed the path. Occasionally, he looked around, taking in the splendidly adorned garden. The flowerbeds, meticulously arranged by species, and the knee-high miniature fountain were surprisingly dainty and charming for Valery’s garden. Though it was enjoyable to explore the carefully curated space, perhaps because he wasn’t moving vigorously, instead of clearing his mind, each step made his thoughts more scattered.

Asil was trying to accept his current situation and circumstances as objectively as possible. He understood that he was confined within Valery’s mansion, living like a dog he kept, that he couldn’t simply flee because he despised such a life, that he was too physically and mentally exhausted to escape with everyone again, and that Valery had no intention of letting him go.

“I’m tired.”

Asil slumped onto a long bench in the garden and looked up. He wanted to focus on the refreshing blue sky and the scattered clouds, but his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.

“What am I doing right now?”

Spreading his legs whenever Valery desired was Asil’s only task. After being thoroughly shaken on a soft, spacious bed, he’d eat whatever food was available when hungry. Even when Graim visited his room and they exchanged a few words, looking at his younger brother made Asil so miserable that he’d make excuses to send him away. Then, he’d lie in the empty room like a corpse, pitying himself. In the afternoon, Valery would return, and the same cycle would repeat. Unlike before, there was no certainty that this would ever end. The ultimate goal he’d endured everything to achieve had shattered.

His father was gone, and so was the family name. He had family, but they no longer held the same meaning in Asil’s heart.

“What am I living for?”

He didn’t want to die. But without a reason to live, each day felt meaningless. Asil stared blankly at the sky, his eyes following the clouds.

“What was it I wanted to achieve…?”

At first, his dream was to become an imperial soldier, as his father wished. From childhood, he underwent grueling training that made the estate’s people click their tongues in awe. Even when he wanted to give up, his father’s booming voice terrified him into standing again, and sometimes he pushed himself so relentlessly that even his trainers tried to intervene.

There were plenty of times when swinging a sword nonstop for half a day made bile rise in his throat. When he vomited clear liquid because there was nothing left to expel, no amount of resolve could stop the tears of despair.

When a young Asil, sobbing and wanting to give up, collapsed on the ground, his father didn’t shout as he usually did. Instead, he held Asil in his arms, soothing him like a newborn. The embrace was warm, the touch gentle, but the words piercing his ears were horrific. Urging him that there was no time for this, his father forcibly lifted Asil to his feet. The hand gripping his shoulder trembled as if clinging to a lifeline. Whispering that he must overcome this pain to restore the family, his father made Asil swallow his tears. When would he stop clinging to such a person’s expectations? His own foolishness was what he hated most.

Asil thought he’d done enough by entering the military academy. Leaving home, he forcibly suppressed his guilt and savored a subtle sense of freedom. But he hadn’t forgotten his father’s absolute desire. He had to live for the glory of the Richard family. To do that, he needed to graduate safely and curry favor with Valery, even if it meant underhanded deals.

Now, it was all for nothing. Everything he’d strived for had vanished. Asil closed his eyes. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he felt the cool breeze on his face. Suddenly, he recalled the words he’d spat at Valery before leaving him.

“Truthfully, if I could, I’d have abandoned being a soldier dozens of times.”

He’d loudly claimed he never wanted it, but Asil knew that if things hadn’t happened as they did, he’d still be doing his utmost to stay in Valery’s good graces. He could easily picture himself like that. He would have fought to survive and become a soldier no matter what. His entire life had been filled with training to achieve that—listening, observing, and practicing. His talents and pride all revolved around it. Throwing it away in a moment couldn’t erase a long-held dream completely.

He’d said he didn’t want it, that it was a shackle chosen out of necessity for his father and success, but he still wanted it.

“I wanted to be one.”

He’d once thought, pointing to Gerard and the others, that he might actually enjoy this. Now, Asil realized.

“I really wanted to be one.”

At least one thing he’d wished to achieve for himself, not for others, still remained. Though it was now closer to an unattainable illusion, Asil still wanted it.

Having dozed off in the garden, Asil felt someone gently stroking his face in his sleep. A feather-light touch grazed his cheek, rousing him. Reflexively opening his eyes, he met Valery’s gaze looking down at him. The hand touching his face slowly moved to his hair. Asil tensed, fearing Valery might painfully grab his hair, but he merely stroked his crown and nape as gently as he had his face, then spoke.

“Have you been here the whole time?”

The surroundings had darkened. Soft light from the garden’s scattered lamps flickered between Asil and Valery.

“Yes…”

“I see. I thought you’d been out of the mansion for hours…”

“…”

“Alright, get up. Have you eaten?”

Valery stopped stroking his hair and pulled Asil’s arm to lift him. Expecting a reprimand, Asil was surprised when Valery changed the subject with a strained expression. Valery was oddly obsessive about Asil’s meals. He seemed to dislike Asil’s loss of muscle more than Asil himself did. During their encounters, he’d grope Asil’s thinning arms and waist, angrily demanding if he wasn’t eating properly. Excuses about lack of appetite were futile. Whenever mealtimes coincided, Valery stared until food entered Asil’s mouth. To avoid unnecessary scolding, Asil had forced himself to eat, sometimes getting sick. Thinking it would happen again today already made him feel queasy.

Asil lowered his head as Valery dragged him along. What did Valery want with him? If he was doing this to feel like he was raising a dog, that would at least make sense. Asil was literally living like an animal bred by Valery.

“Eat.”

Looking down at the lavish meal on the table, Asil swallowed dryly. The food was impeccable in appearance and taste, fit for anyone regardless of status to devour eagerly, but Asil couldn’t eat comfortably with Valery before him. He ignored the glistening roasted chicken and avoided the plate piled with boiled shrimp. Silently scooping the relatively safe potato soup, Valery, seated opposite, scoffed and roughly set down his utensils. Startled, Asil, with a spoon in his mouth, looked at Valery.

“What are you doing? It’s been days.”

Valery closed his eyes and pressed his forehead, acting as if he had a headache from a misbehaving pet. Asil was momentarily dumbfounded.

“What did I do?”

His confusion turned to irritation. Asil slammed the spoon he’d been holding onto the table. Ignoring Valery’s narrowed eyes, Asil clenched his fist and bit his lip.

“You’re barely eating, and all you do is keep your mouth shut all day.”

“Then what am I supposed to eat in this situation? Should I chatter with you, Colonel?”

“…Asil.”

“What do you want me to do? I’m staying here quietly as you want. You won’t let me go anywhere, so what do you expect me to do?”

Asil shouted angrily at Valery. Realizing his mistake, he didn’t want to apologize with excuses about losing his mind, as he might have before. Fidgeting with his fingers, Asil awaited Valery’s response. Not wanting to show fear, he forcibly raised his instinctively bowing head.

Surely, Valery would berate him with a cold voice, calling him insolent and cornering him. He could be gentle one moment, stroking Asil, but turn terrifyingly harsh at the slightest overstep. Since their reunion, he hadn’t struck Asil, but his domineering behavior was unchanged. Who knew? It had been a while since he’d been hit—maybe Valery would beat him bloody, saying he’d finally lost it.

Valery pushed the table aside and stood abruptly. In one step, he grabbed Asil’s collar and lifted him. Asil shut his eyes, bracing for a slap. Tensing his body against the expected blow, he was surprised when Valery, gripping his collar, only breathed heavily, neither hitting him nor forcing him onto the bed.

Preparing for violence, Asil waited, but no pain came. Eventually, he cautiously opened his eyes, dangling from Valery’s grip.

Valery’s face, inches away, was undeniably angry, yet he was restraining himself. It was clear he was suppressing his rage, not unleashing it on Asil. His clenched jaw protruded sharply, and his eyes glinted chillingly, as if he wanted to do something to Asil, but he soon released his collar limply.

“Tell me what you want to do, then.”

“…”

“I’ll let you do anything, so just say it.”

He was, as ever, a difficult man. No one in the empire was harder to please than Valery. Asil had stayed quiet as ordered, and now he was being scolded to do something. Asil nearly replied, as usual, that he had nothing. It wasn’t defiance— he genuinely couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do. His options were likely limited to activities within the mansion, and Asil had little interest in such pastimes. He didn’t want to play gardener, cook, or maintain the mansion.

Assuming Asil was pondering, Valery waited calmly without pressing. After a while, Asil quietly moved his lips.

“There’s nothing I want to do.”

He’d thought of one thing, but it was utterly unattainable. Even if he spoke it, Valery wouldn’t likely agree. It was a path Asil had already abandoned. Even if he pursued it again, there’d be no one to support or back him.

Asil turned sharply and headed to the bathroom. Feeling depressed, he wanted to wash away his gloom. Before he could take a few steps, Valery grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Studying Asil’s expression, he abruptly commanded.

“Then do what you used to do.”

“…Pardon?”

“Do what you’re good at.”

Was he about to insult him, mocking him as a prostitute or a hole? Asil wasn’t in the mood to roll with Valery today. As he backed away, his face paling, Valery shouted in an agitated voice.

“Return to duty!”

Asil, stepping back to distance himself, widened his eyes. Confused about what Valery meant and whether his hearing was functioning, he stood dumbfounded. Unable to bear it, Valery gritted his teeth and whispered again, “I said return to duty.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know or because you don’t want to?”

“The former.”

“I’m telling you to return to the military.”

Valery, in a deflated voice, answered readily and slumped into a chair. Motioning with his chin for Asil to come closer, he snapped menacingly, “Aren’t you coming?” when Asil hesitated. Despite their recent shouting match, fearing a broken bone if he defied further, Asil obediently approached.

“What do you mean by returning to the military… Are you saying I should go back to the academy?”

“Why go there? I’m not even there.”

Valery replied indifferently, pulling Asil, who’d come to his knees, onto his lap. Asil, now uncomfortably close to Valery’s face, turned away.

“Then where…”

“I’ll commission you.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll commission you as a second lieutenant.”

Asil, who’d turned away, looked back at Valery. Even listening intently, he couldn’t grasp the meaning. How could he be commissioned? Asil hadn’t even completed his first year at the academy. There was an early graduation system, but it applied to fourth or fifth years, and only with special circumstances. Even Valery, before him, had taken the full six years to graduate, as early graduation had long been nominal. Early graduation for a first-year was not just unbelievable but nearly impossible.

“How would that work?”

“Why not?”

Valery asserted, as if Asil’s question was incomprehensible.

“Special promotion.”

“What do you mean…”

“You killed Martis, didn’t you, Asil?”

An event neither had mentioned since their reunion surfaced abruptly. Valery had focused his anger on Asil’s escape, threatening dire consequences if he fled again, but he’d never brought up the circumstances surrounding it.

As the only one who knew Asil had killed Martis, Valery had never mentioned it, so Asil hadn’t expected him to use it for a special promotion.

“Really…”

There was a special promotion system. A notable case involved a civilian, not an academy student, who earned significant merit in war and was commissioned as a second lieutenant. It was a ceremonial title, and the person handled minor tasks before retiring, but still.

Valery, too, had been recognized for his merits upon graduation, earning the rank of colonel. It wasn’t immediate, but he rose from second lieutenant to lieutenant to captain, becoming a field-grade officer in just two years. He was confident, citing his own precedent, that naming Asil as Martis’s killer would secure a special promotion directly under imperial command.

To Asil, who struggled to believe it, Valery drove the point home.

“Even if it’s not allowed, I’ll make it happen with my name.”

Hearing his casual, confident whisper, Asil fell silent. Faced with such certainty, he could no longer doubt. Valery’s promise to use his name meant he’d leverage all his authority to make Asil’s promotion possible. As Asil fumbled for a response, Valery reached out to smooth his disheveled collar.

“It’s easier to keep an eye on you if you’re by my side.”

“…”

“So don’t get any funny ideas.”

He kept adjusting Asil’s collar until it was fully straightened, persisting until Asil agreed.

Valery kept Asil on his lap for a while, fondling and teasing various parts, but Asil focused more on his expression than the intrusive hands. He couldn’t fathom why Valery was offering a promotion. After being confined to the mansion, unable to step outside, and trailed by servants to prevent escape, why was Valery now allowing a return to duty?

The claim of keeping him close for surveillance sounded like an excuse, empty words to hide his true intentions. If surveillance was the goal, stationing more people inside and outside the mansion would suffice. Locking Asil in the mansion was a simpler control method than giving him an excuse for external activities.

“Is he really doing this because he doesn’t like seeing me mope around? Why? Whether I’m listless or depressed, as long as I spread my legs, what does it matter?”

Valery had always demanded Asil’s submission. The current Asil closely resembled the obedient figure Valery had coerced and desired—an empty shell that opened when prodded, didn’t flinch when touched, and nodded submissively to every word, a soulless puppet.

“I’ll make it clear this time. You’re mine, Asil. My prized possession. I don’t enjoy sharing my things with others… Understand?”

Hadn’t he said it himself? He didn’t hesitate to demean Asil, treating him like a toilet. So why now… Asil stared at Valery kissing his neck. Pleased with Asil’s silent acceptance, Valery bit his collarbone hard, then looked up to meet his eyes. The man who’d gripped his collar as if to tear it was now gazing at Asil with calm eyes.

Valery’s eyes, tinged with a strange light, followed Asil. Asil had vaguely noticed that the way Valery looked at him had changed over time. When he first tasted despair in the dormitory, Valery saw him as a mere desirable hole, but as their time together lengthened, he began to regard Asil with a peculiarly different gaze.

When Asil was punished before Coleman, when Valery rescued him from falling behind in the dark night, when he warmly embraced him during a vacation visit to the mansion, when Asil suffered gravely and languished in his arms for days, and…

“You’re going to kill me?”

When Asil fled from him. Valery had looked frantic, as if he couldn’t bear Asil leaving. His desperate eyes didn’t leave Asil’s face until he fully turned away. Unable to shake that look, expression, and voice, Asil wondered for a while if Valery…

“Asil.”

Might like him.

“What are you thinking?”

He’d once shuddered and laughed hollowly at such a ridiculous thought. He mocked himself that what Valery felt was mere possessive obsession for a prized object, not love. But still, what if he truly…

“Asil.”

What if he likes me?

Valery shook Asil’s shoulder, calling his name. He persistently questioned what Asil was thinking, irritated by his preoccupation for unknown reasons.

Asil didn’t answer Valery’s questions. Brushing it off with a vague excuse about hunger, Valery’s eyes widened as if he’d heard unexpected good news, and he set Asil down from his lap. Asil returned to his seat and quietly resumed eating. Forcing food down gradually cleared his foggy mind.

“I was thinking nonsense.”

Asil studiously ignored Valery’s gleaming eyes watching him.

“Even if he likes me… what would change?”

Asil swallowed the chicken in his mouth and rinsed with wine. It was unlikely, but even if Valery harbored affection for him, Asil had no intention of reciprocating. Nothing should change from before. He forcibly cut off his thoughts veering toward Valery’s demeanor and focused on returning to duty. Though not achieving his dream as he’d hoped, being commissioned was far better than languishing in this mansion.

“I really succeeded by selling my ass.”

Asil recalled Coleman’s taunts from long ago, mocking himself. Returning under Valery’s orders and advancing through his influence—without seeing or hearing it, Asil could vividly imagine how the academy guys would slander him behind his back. They’d refuse to believe he killed Martis.

So what? Pleading with tears wouldn’t make them believe. Had anyone ever stood up for him? Even his kin had turned away. Asil was alone in this world.

Even Valery, dining with him, was neither family nor lover. Asil swallowed his food and observed Valery. Savoring his wine leisurely, Valery soon raised his brow, reacting to Asil’s gaze. Unlike usual, Asil didn’t avoid his eyes, holding his gaze for a long time before slowly lowering his head. Valery was his enemy. The man who’d tormented and plundered him for so long was Valery.

Yet he was also the one frantic to keep Asil, abandoned by family, by his side. The one who dined with him, whose skin touched his as they slept, was Valery.

“Is the food to your taste?”

An utterly flawed relationship, formed without time to act or realize. Asil suddenly understood that he and Valery shared a profoundly deformed bond.