It Begins with Isaac Chapter 18.1

The garden of the mansion was filled with blooming red roses. The servants of the mansion moved with precision and without panic despite the sudden orders from their master. The garden and various parts of the mansion were adorned with rows of beautiful ornamental plants, including roses. However, Asil only gave a cursory glance and a single nod, not showing the kind of reaction that would satisfy the servants.

The servants believed Asil had a rather discerning taste. In an effort to please him, they imported a rare flowering tree said to bloom only in tropical regions across the sea. Asil paid it little attention, and only after it perished in the empire’s early summer did he awkwardly wander through the garden.

The carefully curated garden was beautiful. Pretending to admire an unknown flower, Asil ventured deep into the garden, wiping the sweat beading on his forehead as he stepped into the shade of a tree. The beginning of summer was not just warm but hot. Even in the morning, the weather was quite humid. Cooling off under the refreshing shade, Asil secretly pulled out a bundle of letters he had taken.

Carefully flipping through the letters, which were tightly bound with twisted paper string, Asil checked for any addressed to him. For weeks, he had known letters were arriving for him. He also knew they were from Saila Yanas, but he could not read their contents. The bundle of letters handed by the postman to the servants went through Valery’s inspection before reaching Asil’s hands. Each time, Valery tore Major Yanas’s letters to shreds in front of Asil.

“It is addressed to me, so why?”

“It is pointless content. There is no need to read it.”

At first, Asil was not particularly curious, but seeing Valery’s face contort with anger each time the major’s letters arrived, he resolved to check their contents.

“This is not it either.”

However, sneaking letters past Valery’s watchful eyes was not easy. Asil was his aide. He spent entire days with Valery, from leaving the mansion to returning, or else he moved with Cain under Valery’s orders. There was simply no time to secretly receive and read the letters arriving at the mansion. Then, finally, today, with Valery leaving early for a lunch meeting with Bride, Asil received an unscheduled break and stayed at the mansion. Whether Valery had given prior instructions, the servant who received the letters from the postman hid them discreetly, but Asil, stealthily following, easily retrieved the bundle and headed to the garden.

Asil quickly flipped through the last couple of letters. What could be written in them to provoke such anger? Checking the final letter and finding no mention of his name, he muttered casually, “I guess she did not send one today,” before slowly widening his eyes. It was not his name, but another equally familiar one caught his attention.

“Graim?”

Graim Richard. His younger brother’s name. Asil stroked the familiar name written as the recipient with his thumb, biting his lip. Checking the sender, his lips, pressed by his front teeth, parted slightly. Frowning, Asil tore open the letter. Unfolding the neatly folded paper, Asil’s eyes quietly scanned the contents.

[Congratulations on your admission to the Imperial Academy of Arts, Secondary Division. To assist Richard with his school life, we provide the following information. First, regarding dormitory move-in. We will conclude here. Wishing you a safe journey.]

His puzzled eyes, by the end, settled with quiet certainty. Asil slipped the read letter back into its envelope. He strode back to the mansion. Ignoring the servants’ greetings, he hurriedly climbed the stairs. Graim’s room was on the second floor. He knocked heavily on the unfamiliar door without hesitation. The sound of rustling blankets suggested Graim was still sleeping in. Unable to wait, Asil flung the door open.

“Brother?”

Graim, his hair a mess, sat up halfway, startled by Asil’s sudden visit, and fully straightened. Asil walked purposefully toward his bewildered younger brother. The closer Asil got, the more Graim’s face twisted into an awkward, embarrassed expression.

Since arriving at Valery’s mansion, the brothers had barely spent time together. Before returning to duty, Asil had been confined to his room like a patient, and when Graim visited, Asil, feeling uneasy, sent him away after a few words. After being commissioned as a lieutenant, work kept them apart. Even meals were taken alone with Valery, as Asil did not want Graim to discover his strange relationship with Valery.

Asil sat heavily on the bed, watching Graim stiffen and subtly shift away.

“Why the sudden visit?”

“Just. I missed you.”

Asil looked uneasily at Graim, who fidgeted awkwardly. He realized it had been a long time since they had sat and talked like this. Reaching out, Asil touched Graim’s shoulder. During their fugitive days, Graim’s body had been frail and gaunt. Now, thanks to good food and rest, he looked robust. His shoulders felt broad under Asil’s hand. In just a few months, Graim’s frame had grown, nearing that of a young man. Asil handed the letter to Graim, who mumbled without responding to the claim of missing him. Graim’s face lit up instantly upon seeing it.

“A reply?”

It was less a question and more an exclamation. Snatching the letter from Asil’s hand, Graim, heedless of the already-opened envelope, quickly read through it. A smile spread across his lips, and he burst into joyful laughter, only to falter with an “uh” when he met Asil’s stern, questioning gaze.

“What is this all of a sudden? When did you apply for admission? Why did you not tell me?”

“You seemed so busy. Sorry.”

His tone was not particularly apologetic. But as Asil continued to stare, Graim explained at length, providing context.

“I was bored doing nothing. The colonel asked if there was any study I wanted to pursue.”

“Why tell the colonel? Why not me? Haa.”

Asil already knew Graim followed Valery closely. When Asil was too listless to notice his surroundings, Valery had looked after Graim. Asil knew Valery was using Graim to keep him from leaving, employing all sorts of petty tactics, but Graim saw Valery’s attention and outstretched hand as a kind of grace. Asil’s anger surged not at Graim for hiding this but at Valery for keeping it so perfectly concealed.

Asil ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply.

“What kind of place is it?”

He had no desire to stop Graim from pursuing what he wanted. Asil wanted Graim to be happy, to do everything he desired. Part of why Asil had strived so hard to enter the military academy was to give his younger siblings a prosperous life. Now, Asil had enough wealth to support Graim’s education, no matter the cost. The gold bars bestowed by Bride were piled high in the warehouse.

Listening halfheartedly to Graim’s explanation, Asil thought of the Imperial Academy of Arts. As an imperial institution, it was likely large-scale, but it was still an arts school. Graim’s declaration to major in a field shunned by nobles unsettled Asil. Most young men in the empire aimed for military academies. Nobles who could not enter due to grades or physical reasons typically joined the family business, inheriting titles, managing enterprises, or aiming for positions in the imperial treasury or diplomacy.

Those preparing to be opera singers, actors, poets, musicians, or painters enrolled in arts schools, but most were commoners. With luck, graduates might become celebrated imperial artists, but except for a rare few with exceptional talent, most remained dependent on noble patronage, painting portraits or playing pianos at social gatherings.

To nobles, art was a hobby, not a profession.

“Is this really what you want to do?”

Living hand-to-mouth with an uncertain future, Asil could not even provide basic education, let alone an arts school. He had no intention of forcing Graim into a military or diplomatic path just to uphold noble dignity. But if Graim had chosen this path out of mere boredom, Asil wanted to show him other options, broadening his choices. He wanted to give Graim opportunities he himself never had.

“I want to do it. I went to an opera recently, and I wanted to create that kind of music. Writing plays seems fun too.”

Graim mumbled, gauging Asil’s reaction. Seeing no opposition, his voice grew firmer.

“I do not want to be a soldier. It looks too hard. I know it is a respected profession, that everyone wants it, and that you worked yourself to death to get there. But.”

Perhaps because he had seen Asil train since he was toddling? Graim’s face paled at the mention of soldiers. His eyes betrayed fear that his brother might force him into that path, like their father. Asil said nothing, nodding silently. A quiet pause lingered between the brothers until Asil spoke with forced cheer.

“When is the enrollment? The letter says it is soon. You will be busy preparing. Have you bought a uniform? Do arts schools wear casual clothes? If I had known, I should have accepted a car from Her Highness. It would be convenient for commuting.”

“Brother, I do not think I will be commuting.”

“What do you mean?”

“The secondary division is not in the capital, Brother.”

Graim smiled awkwardly, then, seeing Asil’s face harden, hurriedly muttered an excuse.

“The university is in the capital, but the secondary division requires boarding.”

“So, the school is in Rean.”

Rean was an island in the southern empire. A hub for artists, its developed port saw waves of creatives come and go. With only cursory knowledge, Asil learned from Graim that the Imperial Academy of Arts’ secondary division was in Rean. He had thought the letter’s mention of a journey was metaphorical, but it was not. Graim was saying he would sail far from the capital to an island with no kin, spending years there.

“No way.”

“What?”

“There is no one there. You are only thirteen. Why leave family to board?”

“You did it too! That is unfair!”

“I was an adult. That kind of life.”

Asil recalled his days in the military academy’s dormitory.

“I could handle it.”

Memories revived, willingly or not, whenever he grew numb. Clenching his teeth, Asil suppressed surging emotions.

“Please, Brother. I want to go! I swear I will not quit halfway with weak excuses.”

Thinking Asil worried about him dropping out, Graim thumped his chest, proclaiming boldly. Asil’s expression darkened before the anxious, boastful Graim.

“Graim, listen. I cannot go with you to Rean right now. So let us wait a bit.”

If assigned to Rean, Asil would have no reason to stop Graim. He could go with him. But Valery would not allow it. He had kept Graim’s enrollment a strict secret, knowing how Asil would react—raging, begging, pleading—if he had known earlier. Valery hid it to prevent giving Asil an excuse to flee.

Asil could not send Graim. He did not want a thirteen-year-old to feel the loneliness of having no one nearby. He wanted no hardships, physical or emotional, for his brother. And if Graim went to Rean, Asil’s escape would become a distant dream. Though half-abandoned, the faint hope mattered immensely. Having Kana and Graim in the capital versus outside it was entirely different. If Graim went to Rean, the moment Asil vanished, Valery would only need to track Graim’s whereabouts. He would rush to Rean, seize Graim, and wait for Asil to crawl back.

“Why? You do not have to do that.”

Asil, taking a short breath to persuade Graim again, blinked at the firm denial.

“What?”

“You are you, and I am me. And this is my business.”

“We are family, Graim. Your business is mine, and you are my responsibility.”

“I am not your responsibility!”

“Graim.”

“The way you take responsibility, it is wrong.”

Graim’s shoulders trembled as he glared at Asil. Defiant eyes pierced him. Seeing tears welling in his brother’s eyes, Asil slowly unclenched his fist.

“Family? You abandon family like this? Really? You pushed me away in the capital, saying nothing! Why Kana? You know she is alive. Why cannot I see her? Why will you not tell me anything?”

“You would tell me eventually. You are busy taking care of me. Always busy. So I did not ask. Even then, when we lost Father and Olin, I did not ask. When we wandered aimlessly, I did not ask!”

“Why do you not tell me anything? I know, I know everything, Brother.”

Graim was a boy. Perhaps since years ago, fleeing the empire with Asil, he had been a boy. From the moment he stopped asking questions to spare Asil pain, swallowing them alone, Graim was no longer a child. He knew everything.

Perhaps he had sensed the relationship between the revered colonel and his eldest brother. Was that why he wanted to leave this stifling, oppressive mansion? To be alone, leaving Asil behind? Asil looked desperately at his much younger brother. Graim was his last. If even he left, Asil would have nothing.

“I am sorry. I, I, uh.”

Asil reached out slowly toward Graim, who wept without wiping his wide-open eyes. His words came haltingly, sounding foolish even to himself. As he carefully wiped Graim’s tears, Graim huffed, letting out an agitated breath. About to shout again, Graim noticed Asil’s trembling hand. He stared at Asil’s fist, clenching and unclenching frantically, for a few seconds. Then, with a sigh-like murmur, Graim spoke.

“You do not need to take responsibility.”

“We are not everything to you.”

To Asil, they were everything. They might not see him as their all, but family was the only thing he had truly had. The cursed Richard name, that was his entirety.

“What else is there?”

A hollow rank? A sprawling mansion? A beautiful garden? None were his. They belonged to Valery. And Valery was not his. He was nothing to Asil.

“So I am going.”

Asil felt abandoned by his small brother, who barely reached his chest, and realized he might be the only one tethered to the burned ruins of Maron’s estate. While everyone else shed the Richard name and left willingly, Asil, cursing its weight, clung to it with both hands, unable to let go.

“If you want it that much, go.”

Asil spat out the words in a fit of anger. He thought Graim might hesitate, showing fear, but the boy nodded, his face relieved, as if Asil had been his shackles, and he was finally free.

“Take care, Brother.”

Asil did not argue with Valery over sending Graim. Nothing would change anyway, and he lacked the energy to taunt or provoke Valery further. Asil spent his days in a daze. Even as an aide, he was prone to distraction, making frequent minor mistakes. Even the stern Cain expressed concern, asking if he was unwell.

Valery apologized to Asil.

“I did not mean to hide it.”

He said he wanted to tell Asil himself, that Graim had begged him not to. Hearing this, Asil felt even more hurt. He felt lesser than Valery to Graim. Biting his lip, Asil nodded curtly.

On the day Graim left, Asil sent him off with a smile. Though they had avoided each other after heated exchanges, seeing his brother board the car, Asil could not stay silent.

“See you during break.”

“Yeah.”

“You will do well. If anything happens, do not hide it, contact me.”

Asil and Graim shared a deep embrace. The car left, and Asil stood before the mansion for a long while, entering only when his legs grew numb.

Not seeing someone nearby and their absence felt different in depth of emptiness. Asil threw himself into work. Beyond Valery’s orders, he took on Cain’s errands and mundane administrative tasks. Valery did not stop him but sometimes watched Asil, frantically flipping through papers, for minutes at a time.

It was the same now. Asil, avoiding the piercing gaze, manually calculated whether the military budgets reported by each division were correct. It was not a task he needed to do, but Valery had assigned it to him as he obsessively lingered in the study, searching for work. Muttering softly, Asil retraced incorrect figures. As he marked an error with his pen, red liquid dripped beside the nib, spotting the paper.

“Huh.”

Asil hurriedly pinched his nose. Wiping his philtrum, his hand came away covered in blood. Only then did a throbbing headache register.

“Lower your head.”

Valery, watching Asil, stood, grabbing a handkerchief and approaching. Lightly holding Asil’s head, he wiped the blood from under his nose. The bleeding did not stop easily. Asil quietly accepted Valery’s gentle strokes and pressure for quite a while. His eyes felt strained, and his shoulders were heavy. Relaxing his neck, Asil fully entrusted his head to Valery’s hand. Closing his eyes and breathing through his mouth, the handkerchief fell away. Asil, wiping dried blood with his thumb, stared blankly at Valery, who had not taken his eyes off his face.

“Every time you are like this, I do not know what to do.”

“It makes me feel like an idiot.”

Valery grabbed Asil’s forearm, pulling him up. Though piles of documents remained, he led Asil out of the study. Stumbling, Asil followed. They soon reached the bedroom. Valery laid Asil on the bed, roughly tidying it, and before Asil could sit up, he drew the curtains and turned off the lights.

“Sleep.”

“There is still work.”

“You think my orders are a joke? What work can I do with a subordinate bleeding from the nose?”

“Understood.”

When Valery invoked orders, Asil had no retort. Before the colonel’s face, Asil was just a lieutenant who had to obey. Awkwardly closing his eyes, perhaps because he had been sleeping lightly since Graim left, the act of clearing his mind to sleep stretched on tediously. Asil tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Lying on his side to avoid back pain, he now felt strangely thirsty. Swallowing repeatedly, his eyelids trembled.

“Cannot sleep?”

Valery’s voice, which Asil thought had left quietly, came from right beside him. A lukewarm palm settled over Asil’s eyes. As Asil blinked a few times, Valery grumbled, “It tickles.” His eyelashes must have brushed Valery’s palm.

“Sleep.”

Asil, about to retort how he could sleep with a heavy hand on his face, was lulled by the oddly calming weight, gradually losing consciousness. As his breathing evened out, the hand covering his eyes moved to his forehead. Asil felt Valery’s continuous stroking of his bangs as the last sensation before slipping into deep sleep. In his long-overdue rest, Asil realized much later that Valery was the one who had put him to sleep. By the time he realized, it was too late to fully register the oddity.

Asil slept for a long time. When he opened his eyes again, it was noon the next day. Valery was by his side, as he had been before. Not lying on the bed but leaning in a slanted posture, Valery waited until Asil fully awoke from his sleep.

“Where are you going?”

Asil, with half-closed eyes, examined Valery’s attire. Unlike the casual indoor clothes worn around the mansion, Valery was dressed in active clothing. He swiftly lifted Asil’s body. Thanks to the deep sleep, Asil felt much lighter. With a groggy face, Asil stared blankly at the bread Valery handed him for a meal. Holding the bread meant for a simple meal replacement, Asil felt a gnawing hunger and slowly opened his mouth. While Asil chewed the bread, a servant entered the room and led him to the bathroom. Asil washed as the servant instructed. He ate the bread while soaking in the bathtub, finishing both his meal and bath in the tub.

Perhaps because he had slept so long, his mind was still foggy, but his full stomach felt reassuring. With his hair still damp, Asil followed the servant guiding him to the garden, walking slowly. A couple of yawns escaped along the way. Wiping the tears that welled up with the yawns and pressing the edges of his eyebrows, his senses finally started to return.

“Where are we going?”

Asil moved awkwardly, unaccustomed to the tight white pants clinging to his legs. The unusually stretchy pants wrapped around his lower body snugly. They were not uncomfortable, but he felt oddly self-conscious, as if his lower body stood out, even though no one was watching. The servant, hearing Asil’s question, gestured politely. The direction he indicated was the end of the garden, where a long fence stood. The fence, marking the boundary between the mansion and the large forest behind it, was as high as an adult’s waist, making it quite cumbersome to climb over.

“Are you saying to go over it?”

“Yes.”

Asil, looking at the fence with a reluctant expression, turned at the curt response, far removed from the servant’s usual politeness. Valery stood there, holding two large horses. Handing one rein to Asil, Valery leapt onto the horse and settled in. Looking down at Asil from his elevated position, Valery urged him with a glance.

“You ride well, do you not?”

“I do ride, but why the sudden horseback riding?”

Asil muttered as he mounted the horse, following Valery. He wondered what Valery was thinking, indulging in such leisure amidst such busy days. With the collapse of Major Yanas and Valery’s engagement, turmoil had stirred within Princess Bride’s faction. The few nobles questioned whether they had made the right choice, while the officers insisted on sending preemptive warnings to the Third Prince’s side.

The officers clamored that the Third Prince should be held accountable for Count Saranda’s espionage, but Princess Bride firmly dismissed the idea. Bringing up a hushed incident now could backfire. Moreover, Count Saranda was not a significant piece to the Third Prince. Even if they pressed for accountability, the Third Prince could simply claim it was the count’s independent act.

Appeasing the grumbling officers fell entirely to Valery. Recently, he had been hosting gatherings, large and small, to share drinks with them. By at least pretending to listen to their complaints, Valery ensured their grumbling stayed internal and did not leak outside. But that was not all. The frequency of Princess Bride’s summons had increased, requiring multiple private meetings in a single day. On top of that, he handled reports from the imperial army on behalf of the Grand Duke, the commander-in-chief. Valery was extremely busy, and Asil was satisfied with his busyness. It allowed him, as Valery’s aide, to focus entirely on work.

“It suits you well.”

“What?”

“The riding outfit. It suits you.”

Snapping Asil out of his thoughts, Valery nodded toward the clothes he was wearing.

“Oh.”

Only then did Asil realize he was dressed in the attire nobles wore for horseback riding. Examining the pants that revealed his lower body’s contours and the unnecessarily frilly lace on the shirt sleeves with a displeased look, Asil muttered gruffly.

“Why are you not wearing one, Colonel?”

If it was a riding outfit, Valery should have worn one too, but he was dressed in loose cotton pants that comfortably covered his thick thighs. Valery answered readily.

“I find it uncomfortable.”

“I do too.”

“It is very uncomfortable. It squeezes my groin.”

Valery grinned, glancing down at himself. Asil was annoyed. He could not dismiss Valery’s words as nonsense, having personally experienced his formidable anatomy. When Asil clamped his mouth shut, showing no reaction, Valery chuckled softly and urged his horse forward. The horse leapt over the fence, leaving the garden, its hooves clattering as it moved away. Asil stroked the mane of the black horse carrying him a few times before lightly flicking the reins.

The mansion, situated on high ground, was backed by a large forest beyond the garden. The area with tall, dense trees seemed unsuitable for riding, but Asil, following Valery, soon understood why he had brought the horses here. After passing through the thick woods, a grassy field stretched out. The field, extending to the foot of the mountain, was as vast as the mansion’s grounds. It was spacious enough to gallop freely without feeling constrained.

Asil had been wary that Valery might be using riding as an excuse for some ulterior motive, but instead of approaching him, Valery sped toward the mountain’s base. Watching Valery lower his body to cut through the wind while pressing the horse’s flanks, Asil urged his horse in the opposite direction. He did not know why Valery had suddenly dragged him out under the pretext of riding, but breathing in the fresh air and galloping lifted his spirits. Asil felt the breeze tousling his hair, an unfamiliar sensation.

To Asil, horses were merely a means of transportation. He had never ridden for leisure. When his mind was cluttered, he had often run through the mountains on foot, but he had never considered squandering his family’s precious resources for fun.

“Hyah!”

For the first time, Asil understood why wealthy nobles rode horses as a hobby. Unlike running on foot, his breathing did not feel constricted, nor did sweat pour like rain. Exhaling just enough to feel exhilarated yet in control, Asil extended his arm downward. He touched the tips of the sparsely growing grass with his fingers. The tickling sensation loosened the corners of his lips.

After circling the field a few more times, Valery approached from the opposite side. Though the field, nestled between mountains and forest, was cool, it was still a summer day. As their horses nearly collided, Valery’s sweat-soaked shirt fluttered.

“It is hot.”

At Valery’s sigh, Asil wiped his forehead. His hand came away drenched in sweat. Caught up in riding, Asil realized his shirt was as soaked as Valery’s. They led their horses to the shade. Tying the horses to a tree trunk, they took turns drinking from the water canteen Valery had brought.

“Are you not busy?”

When his thirst was somewhat quenched, Asil, who had been giving the remaining water to the horse, asked abruptly.

“I can make time for this.”

Valery murmured, gazing at Asil’s flushed cheeks. He did not take his eyes off Asil, who was combing the horse’s coarse mane after giving it water. Valery himself had sweat-soaked, wavy hair hanging over his forehead, but Asil was preoccupied with the horse’s mane.

When Asil’s youngest brother came to Valery, saying he wanted to attend an arts school, Valery genuinely wanted to dissuade him. The boy before him was Asil’s entire reason for staying at the mansion. He was the reason Asil persevered, the force that kept him from giving up. If Graim left the mansion, Valery could have Asil to himself, but he would also have to watch Asil waste away again, grieving the loss of family. Valery never wanted to see Asil crying, looking like a corpse, muttering about life and death.

Yet, paradoxically, Valery also wished Graim would disappear from Asil’s sight forever. If he could fill the void left by Graim, he would do anything to keep the boy on that island, never to return. He wanted to banish the Richards, who held and shook Asil, to a place where they could never be seen again, to completely take their place. He wanted to be the one Asil loved so fiercely it hurt, the one who gently coaxed and held him. Graim’s absence was an opportunity for Valery. If he could slip into the small, lonely crevices of Asil’s heart, what could he not do?

But Asil did not crumble as he had before. Instead of collapsing into ruins in an instant, he festered from within, corroding like an outer wall that decays over years. No matter how much Valery knocked, the wall would not open. It seemed it would one day become so worn that it would collapse on its own, letting no one in.

When Asil, engrossed in work and oblivious to his surroundings, finally bled, Valery recalled the moment years ago when Asil had collapsed unconscious before him. He could not forget how much he had trembled while holding Asil’s slanting body in his arms. Even now, the trembling of his hands as he supported Asil’s thin back felt vivid.

“Back then, from that moment.”

Was it already too late to change anything? If he had clearly understood his feelings back then, if he had not stopped at merely thinking something felt strange but had looked closely at his emotions, could he have prevented Asil from leaving him? Or rather, if he had not forced Asil to submit to his whims from the start?

“It is an honor to meet you. I have always admired you!”

If, at that first meeting, during that long handshake, he had sensed something. If he had keenly noticed that he was not his usual self, that Asil would become someone extraordinary to him from the very beginning!

Lost in the now-familiar cycle of regret, Valery glared at the horse nuzzling Asil’s cheek. Narrowly jealous of a speechless beast, Valery’s eyes widened. The moment the horse’s wet nose bumped Asil’s flushed cheek, a soft laugh echoed faintly. Valery stared, entranced, at the rounded cheekbones, the pink flush, the narrowed eyes. It was unfamiliar, so unfamiliar it was almost wondrous.

Countless expressions he had seen flashed before his eyes. The pleading face with drooping eyebrows, the red-faced shouting, the tear-streaked panic, the resigned emptiness, the irritated smirk, the cold sneer at Valery.

Before Valery had ruined everything, had Asil’s smile at their first meeting been like this? He reached out dazedly. The carefree smile felt like a mirage. The moment he spoke, the moment Asil recalled his presence, it would vanish, but Valery could not keep silent. If not now, he would never say it. His fingertips touched Asil’s hair.

As Asil reflexively turned, slowly erasing his smile, Valery forced out the words.

“Give me a chance.”

It was a plea.

“Give me, give me a chance. Give me a chance to make things right.”

He could not bear wanting that smile. Instead of the horse’s nose, he wanted to rub his own against Asil’s cheek. He wanted to bury his nose in those round cheeks, inhaling Asil’s faint scent deeply. He wanted Asil. He wanted to be loved by Asil. He wanted permission to love him.

“I was wrong. I, everything, I should not have treated you that way. If you want, you can take back anything, anytime. If you want to slap me again, you can. You can use me like a servant. You can do anything to me. Just give me a chance to atone.”

“Open your heart to me. Look at me, please.”

“I am sorry, Asil. I am sorry. I will apologize every day. I will live like a sinner, begging you every day, so please.”

It was a confession akin to a monologue, unanswered. The rambling words faded silently. The smile had vanished, and Asil’s face looked at Valery impassively. The hand hovering near Asil’s shoulder dropped. Valery’s anxious expression hardened as he realized his position.

The horse snorted, chewing the grass. The wind from the mountain shook the leaves fiercely. The shade flickered, darkening their faces. Valery’s strength drained. Facing Asil’s frozen expression, he could muster no more courage. No matter how he apologized or begged, no matter how he groveled, Asil’s hatred seemed unyielding.

To Valery, Asil’s hatred was a disaster. No matter how he tried to dispel it, it was a calamity beyond human control. If he himself was the embodiment of Asil’s hatred…

“I am my own disaster.”

Valery wanted to force a smile, but his face twitched, and he could not tell what expression he was making. He moved past Asil to untie the horse’s reins, intending to brazenly suggest returning to the mansion as if nothing had happened.

“How long are you talking about?”

“A chance, you said. There needs to be a time limit.”

Asil approached Valery, snatching the reins from his hand. Mounting the horse, Asil looked down at Valery. The shade was so dark that Asil’s face was invisible. No matter how hard Valery blinked or shielded his eyes, Asil’s features blurred in the shadows, indistinguishable.

“One month.”

“If, after one month, my heart remains the same, let me go, Colonel.”

“Asil.”

Let him go? Valery’s eyes instinctively tensed.

“Promise.”

Asil reached down, grabbing Valery’s cheek. As he leaned deeply, their faces became clear. In the bright sunlight, Asil’s face neither scorned Valery’s absurd request nor twitched with mockery. He was calm, rational, but slightly… flustered.

“If nothing changes, acknowledge that we are ill-fated, and do not hold me or touch my family.”

“Can you do that?”

Asil’s fingertips grazed Valery’s temple. His hand slid up, slowly stroking the disheveled blonde hair. As Asil smiled softly, as if offering a guarantee, Valery desperately pulled him into an embrace.

Valery no longer had the composure to read Asil’s expression, calculate, and plan his next move. He felt like a man chased to the edge of a cliff, finally discovering a solitary path. He was elated yet anxious. The newfound path was unknown. It could lead to another grave. But,

“Yes.”

“I promise. I promise, Asil.”

Valery replied, pressing his lips to Asil’s face repeatedly. Unlike usual, Asil did not flinch or pull away. His demeanor made Valery feel permitted to act this way. Even when Valery kissed him, rubbing their lips together, Asil opened his mouth willingly, like a tender lover. They lingered under the tree’s shade, tongues entwined. The kiss was unbearably sweet, almost unsettlingly so.