It Begins with Isaac Chapter 8.1

Two months after returning, the academy was steeped in a restless atmosphere. The cadets, lined up in formation, bore expressions of grim determination. Before them stood rows of instructors, and atop the platform, Valery surveyed the scene with an imposing gaze. Every face was heavy with unease. Sensing the looming shadow of war, the soldiers bowed their heads in unison for a brief moment of silence.

The official announcement of the First Prince’s death had spread across the empire. The revelation that the Jenuka Kingdom was behind his poisoning made it clear to all that an unavoidable war was imminent. This was especially true for the cadets of the academy. It was a fundamental principle of the Tarian Empire that, in times of great conflict, supplemental troops were drawn from its military academies.

“From now on, we will select the soldiers to be deployed. According to reports, the immediate need for supplemental troops is twenty thousand, and this academy has decided to provide six hundred. Four hundred will head to the border, and two hundred will go to Mailyn, where search operations are underway.”

After the brief silence, Valery spoke. The First Military Academy housed roughly twelve hundred cadets. The news that half of them would be deployed as supplemental troops caused a murmur to ripple through the assembled cadets in the training field. With a wave of Valery’s hand, instructors moved through the ranks, pulling cadets from the formation. Some followed with stoic, soldierly faces, while others, pale and trembling, were dragged out unsteadily. Most of the selected were upperclassmen, but a significant number of first- and second-year cadets were also chosen.

Asil watched as even Alain, standing beside him, was called out by an instructor’s gesture and left the formation. Steeling himself, Asil resolved to act. As the top cadet of his class, he prided himself on being the most capable among the recruits. Yet, as instructors continued to pass him by without calling his name, Asil silently protested. Each time they approached, he rolled his shoulders unnecessarily, loosening up, or, when their eyes met, he widened his own and hopped in place for no reason. But the instructors breezed past him, selecting what he considered lesser cadets in droves.

“Sir, Senior!”

Growing anxious, Asil raised his voice toward Cain, who stood nearby. As Valery’s aide and a senior cadet, Cain was at the forefront of the supplemental troop line. Hearing the sudden call, Cain glanced around, confirming Valery’s temporary absence before approaching Asil slowly.

“Am I not being deployed?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Despite his curt response, Cain nodded slowly, his expression suggesting he already knew the answer. Asil bit his lip hard, clenching his fists.

“I’m a soldier.”

“You’re still a cadet. A first-year, at that, who hasn’t even taken tactical courses.”

“…I’m the top of my class. It’s contradictory to say that while deploying all my peers.”

“Recruit Richard, what’s the point of telling me this?”

Cain rubbed his forehead, looking exhausted.

“I’m not an instructor…”

“…Understood. Then I’ll go to the instructors.”

Asil ended the conversation, visibly disappointed. His fleeting hope that Cain might pull strings behind the scenes crumbled. If this was how it was, why had Cain bothered calling during the break to warn him about Mailyn’s unrest and to keep an eye on Maron? Asil wanted to press the issue, but clinging to Cain seemed unlikely to change anything.

Cain was right. He wasn’t an instructor and thus had no direct influence in this situation. Though Valery’s closest aide, he wasn’t Valery. Asil resolved to confront the one who held absolute control over his fate.

Feeling deliberately ignored by everyone, Asil slipped out of the formation, moving to the back row. No one questioned where he was going. Thinking it was for the best, he headed toward the corner of the training field, where Valery was receiving a report from another instructor. As usual, Valery held a cigar between his lips, either smoking it or letting it burn idly—it was hard to tell, so focused was he on the report. The cigar was a rare kind, unattainable on the market, crafted from tobacco leaves in a Tarian vassal state and offered to royalty. Valery chewed on the exorbitantly valuable cigar carelessly, then turned sharply to face Asil, who had approached closely.

“I have something to say.”

It was their first private meeting since returning to the academy after the break. Asil had vaguely expected to be summoned to Valery’s dorm room before even unpacking, but Valery hadn’t shown himself for days. Perhaps the situation with Jenuka was truly dire, as Valery looked overwhelmingly busy. His eyes were bloodshot, and his handsome face was etched with fatigue. For someone with Valery’s monstrous stamina to look so worn, it was clear the empire’s war history was entering a new phase.

Asil couldn’t tolerate being excluded from the supplemental troops in such a situation.

“I’m going.”

Without preamble, Asil declared his intent, prompting Valery to flick the ash precariously clinging to his cigar. Sending the reporting instructor away, Valery turned to Asil and asked, “Where?”

“To the border or Mailyn.”

“How’s your rear? The scars?”

“…My peers are being deployed, so why not me…?”

“Let me see. Show me.”

“Instructor!”

Valery reached for Asil’s belt, tugging as if to pull it off. Startled, Asil jumped back, retreating. Furious at Valery’s dismissive attitude toward his serious resolve, Asil furrowed his brow and ground his teeth. He had expected this, but it was still infuriating. The reason he wasn’t deployed was standing right before him—Valery. For reasons Asil couldn’t fathom, Valery didn’t want him leaving the academy. Even in such a critical moment, Valery was letting personal feelings cloud his judgment.

The First Military Academy was practically the headquarters of all imperial academies. And Asil was the top entrant among its elite. Though too proud to say it aloud, excluding him was a significant loss of manpower and would seem unjustifiable to others. Valery surely knew this, yet he looked at Asil as if humoring a child making impossible demands.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t go?”

“The instructors decide who’s deployed. If they deem you inadequate, that’s reason enough.”

And you’re not pressuring them? Asil barely swallowed the question rising in his throat. But unasked questions multiplied in his mind. Failing to suppress one, he impulsively spoke.

“What do you even see in me? Do you think I’m unreliable?”

“If I say you’re unreliable, will you stay quietly at the academy?”

“…”

“You’re unreliable. Satisfied?”

Valery tossed his cigar to the ground, grinding it under his boot.

“Do you know Jenuka uses poison? If you’re grazed by their poison arrows, you won’t have the wits to babble like this. You’ll regret not staying here only after seeing your limbs melt. Asil, you should thank me.”

“Instructor, I’m a cadet. A soldier. That’s a risk I have to take. Dodging arrows is—”

Before Asil could finish saying dodging arrows was simple, Valery’s fist shot toward his face. So fast that before Asil could blink, the knuckles grazed his nose.

“You think you can dodge something faster than this? How?”

Valery opened his fist, grabbing Asil’s entire face tightly. His thick fingers gripped Asil’s cheeks, forehead, and chin, shaking gently. It didn’t hurt, but the humiliation was worse than a slap, flushing Asil’s face red. Valery toyed with his head for a while, only releasing it when Asil’s face paled noticeably from nausea, tossing it aside.

“Seems you only behave when disciplined with my cock.”

“…”

“I’d love to fuck you senseless, but…”

Valery clicked his tongue, grabbing Asil’s arm and turning him around. Facing away from the formation, he pulled Asil into his embrace. His large frame hid Asil completely, so only Valery’s back was visible to the lined-up cadets.

Lowering his head to Asil’s anxious gaze, Valery cupped both cheeks firmly, trapping the small face in his palms. Smiling with satisfaction, he pressed his lips to Asil’s tightly closed mouth, which let out a muffled groan, resisting. Instead of forcing Asil’s jaw open as usual, Valery caressed his nape, gently nibbling and sucking his lower lip for a while.

“So stubborn…”

Glancing fondly at Asil, who refused to yield his mouth, Valery took his lips fully, sucking them like candy before letting go.

Wiping his wet lips roughly with the back of his hand, Asil swallowed a sigh and muttered, “I’ll go.” Continuing the conversation seemed unlikely to yield the answers he wanted. He recalled the most powerful, indelible phrase among Valery’s countless insults.

“Let me make this clear. You’re mine, Asil. My prized possession. I don’t enjoy sharing my things… Understand?”

At this point, Asil felt foolish for repeatedly forgetting this truth. Valery didn’t want him to be a soldier. No matter how skilled Asil was at long-range shooting or how thoroughly he studied military texts, to Valery, he was merely a decoration for his dorm. Since Valery claimed to cherish his possessions, he’d never send Asil to the battlefield.

Asil decided to give up for now. This opportunity was a failure. Erasing the mental image of the emperor praising his valor in the Jenuka war, his joyful father, and his well-fed siblings, Asil saluted weakly. Waiting for Valery’s dismissal, he heard nothing. Puzzled, Asil looked up to see Valery rubbing his face irritably.

Looking down at Asil’s dejected expression, Valery groaned softly.

“You’re such a hassle.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“…With so many forces leaving, leadership becomes critical. I’ll be absent too, so shouldn’t you, Asil, take charge of the remaining recruits?”

Annoyed at having to placate Asil like this, Valery praised his leadership instead of intimidating him. In truth, Asil, busy enduring bullying, had never asserted his authority as top cadet, but Valery’s unfamiliar flattery caught him off guard, missing the chance to protest.

Asil narrowed his eyes, glaring at Valery. Had he eaten something off? Though overdue for a strike, Valery was restraining his temper despite his pressing schedule.

“Your eyes are awfully insolent.”

Muttering, he flicked Asil’s nose. Asil had much to say but, not wanting to get slapped and cause a scene, bowed and returned to the formation. As he rejoined his peers, he felt sneaky glances from all sides. Wanting no part in their sinister curiosity, he stared straight ahead.

Before him, he saw a formation separate from his own. Among them, twenty first-years, all visibly excited, were murmuring. Mentally reciting their names, Asil clenched and unclenched his fists.

Alain, having studied in Jenuka, likely proved useful as an informant. But Coleman—what’s he doing there? Alex’s shooting scores were abysmal, and Maxwell’s a dimwit. What kind of war are they fighting with such rabble?

Feeling deprivation and jealousy, Asil swallowed hard. No matter how he thought about it, it made no sense. That night, he sought Valery again, but he was out, having left his dorm. Before Asil could dwell on it, an instructor gathered the entire school the next day. Jenuka operatives had infiltrated Qualoum Mountain, adjacent to the academy, and Valery, along with instructors and seniors, had formed a search team to pursue them. The instructor’s face was cold with tension.

Everyone gasped. Jenuka forces had infiltrated the capital’s outskirts.

Valery turned over the sprawled figures one by one. Cain offered to do it, but Valery waved him off silently, continuing to inspect the limp bodies. Checking even their mouths for suicide devices, he found none. The operatives, faces white with fear, writhed as Valery touched them. One with a dislocated shoulder flailed bound legs, another with a crushed ankle thrashed his arms. Irritated, Valery slapped the face of the one he held repeatedly. The heavy sound of blows echoed endlessly in the quiet forest.

“Sir Valery, he’s unconscious.”

A search team member spoke cautiously. Only then did Valery drop the bloodied face. Wiping the blood on his palm onto the unconscious operative’s clothes, he slowly stood.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Twenty in total.”

“Fewer than reported.”

The report estimated fifty operatives. Yet, those bound and awaiting judgment before Valery were less than half that number. They were so inept and lacking in resilience that he doubted they’d completed proper training. Their skills were so pitiful, it seemed they’d been sent to cause chaos. For such a critical mission, they should’ve been elite Jenuka operatives, not these frail, whining amateurs.

“Aaagh!”

Kicking a twisted ankle, the crawling operative let out a wail akin to sobbing. Valery clicked his tongue, cursing Jenuka’s weak endurance. Cain, refraining from saying anyone would react that way to a kicked broken ankle, nodded in agreement.

“We won’t descend today.”

“What? Then…”

“We’ll stay a few more days. Form teams, sweep the mountain ridges, and regroup here.”

The search team, standing at attention behind Valery, couldn’t hide their stunned expressions for a few seconds. Just ten minutes ago, they’d spent a full day racing across Qualoum Mountain to capture Jenuka operatives. Not leisurely, but at breakneck speed, yet Valery seemed blind to their trembling legs. Exhausted and desperate to collapse, none dared challenge his orders. Cain, suppressing a grimace, feigned ease by rotating his ankle.

“Cain, organize the teams.”

“Yes? Which team will you join, sir?”

“I’ll stay here. I need to interrogate these bastards.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Damn it. The entire team’s cheeks trembled with rage toward their superior. Just as Cain’s habitual smile nearly faltered, Valery’s phone rang. Signaling the team to depart, he walked away to take the call. Despite the weak signal in the mountains, he moved about, clinging to the phone, likely receiving critical news from the palace or the northern border scouts.

“He’s too much…”

“Watch your mouth.”

As one grumbled, Cain raised a hand to silence him. Valery had sharp ears. Even while on a call far off, he’d likely hear their conversation. But silencing didn’t mean Cain didn’t empathize. Valery’s order to stay while exempting himself sparked years of suppressed resentment in Cain. Asking, “Aren’t you coming?” would only earn a scoff and, “Am I some grunt to run around?” Cain, from years as an aide, knew how such exchanges ended.

Sighing, Cain divided the team into five groups, sending one in each direction. His group would patrol the central area. Before leaving, he glanced back. Valery, still on the call, looked grave. Meeting Cain’s eyes, he waved him off to depart. Cain nodded, tied his boots, and ran along the mountain path.

The first cadet to show symptoms was a senior handling meal distribution in the cafeteria. It was less than two days after Valery and the seniors left for the search. While ladling corn soup onto a recruit’s tray, the senior collapsed, head plunging into the pot. Luckily, the soup had cooled, or he’d have been severely burned.

The unconscious cook, head submerged in soup, caused an uproar in the cafeteria. A recruit opposite him quickly pulled him up. The cook’s face, covered in yellow soup, was bleeding heavily from the nose, his condition clearly abnormal.

Asil, holding a tray nearby, saw the cook’s face up close. His face, neck, and hands were deathly pale. Beyond mere pallor, it was the complexion of a corpse. Blood poured not only from his nose but also his mouth. As he coughed, droplets splattered onto the recruit in front.

“What’s the commotion?”

An instructor, arriving for a meal, rushed over. He pushed the recruit aside to approach the cook. Fortunately or not, he was well-versed in such situations. Specializing in medical care, he’d treated the sick and wounded on battlefields for over a decade. Recently, he’d been studying special diseases, including epidemics and poisoning.

“Damn it! You, report to the higher-ups immediately.”

The instructor instantly recognized the cook’s condition. It was unmistakably poison-induced, undeniable given the bleeding and collapse. Covering his nose and mouth with his arm, he ushered the surrounding recruits out.

Jenuka’s greatest asset wasn’t its soldiers, advancing technology, or weapons, but its meticulously developed poison craft. A poison that could kill with a graze had even crippled Grand Duke Grekosha, the empire’s commander. Now, that same poison had infiltrated the First Military Academy! Unnoticed, just a day after Valery and the search team left.

They’d likely lain in wait, striking the moment Valery was absent. The instructor clutched his throbbing head, closing his eyes. He drove the murmuring, dazed recruits out, positioning the recruit who’d touched the cook in front of him. Already showing a slight fever, the recruit’s face was blotchy, his forehead damp with cold sweat. This poison spread through close contact, with initial symptoms of mild fever, followed by pallor and hemoptysis…

“Cough.”

“Good grief, this fast?”

“S-Sir… cough!”

As the recruit scratched his throat, coughing violently, the instructor tied a handkerchief over his lower face. The infection’s speed was astonishing. Supporting the collapsing recruit, he laid him on a cafeteria table and pulled out his communicator. Contacting the head instructor, he dreaded Valery’s reaction more than the incident itself.

Rushing down the mountain upon hearing the news, Valery immediately summoned the instructors and cadet council.

“They really outdid themselves. The moment I step away, this happens. Astonishing.”

Valery tapped the table, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Amid their nervous glances, the instructors couldn’t hide their underlying grievance. This wasn’t something we could prevent! You didn’t know either! They wanted to whine like children, but most were middle-aged, older than Valery. Bowing deeply, they repeated apologies in subdued tones.

“How many cadets are infected?”

“Two hundred thirty.”

“Of those, how many are supplemental troops?”

“Well… two hundred. Mostly upperclassmen are infected…”

Valery rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a cigar. Though smoking was forbidden on campus, no one dared challenge him as he lit up brazenly. Puffing heavily, he pressed his temple. The disaster striking the moment he left, combined with the inept operatives captured on Qualoum Mountain, painted a clear picture of Jenuka’s plan. They’d lured him out with the mountain operatives, then unleashed poison in his absence.

He’d been careless to leave so rashly. Had he been present to manage the first infection, the spread might’ve been contained. Now, capturing the Jenuka operative who’d spread the poison was impossible—they’d likely fled before his return.

Blaming himself for entrusting the academy to aging, complacent instructors, Valery slammed the table, unable to suppress his rage. The wooden surface cracked under his massive fist. Everyone paled, bowing even lower, their necks nearly at right angles.

The silver lining was the low infection rate among recruits in the cafeteria, thanks to the instructor’s swift evacuation. Except for the recruit who pulled the cook from the soup, the recruits were mostly fine. But filling the supplemental troop shortage with recruits wasn’t viable—most hadn’t completed tactical training.

Valery stubbed out his cigar on the table, legs trembling. Closing his eyes in deep thought, he spoke.

“No choice. Fill the supplemental troops with capable upperclassmen, and if short, use recruits. Transfer the infected to the capital hospital. Keeping them here only spreads the infection.”

At Valery’s command, everyone moved swiftly. Instructors rushed out, followed by Cain and the cadet council. Valery beckoned Cain, the last to remain, closer.

“Anything else to investigate?”

“Not that. Was Asil there? Is he okay?”

Valery asked without looking at Cain, tapping the table rhythmically. Caught off guard, Cain replied cautiously.

“I haven’t checked. I’ll find out.”

“If he’s fine, no need to report. The recruits are quarantined, so keep him there. He’s always scampering about—lose sight of him, and who knows where he’ll end up.”

“Yes… Anything else?”

“Get out.”

When Cain asked again, thinking that couldn’t be all, Valery pointed to the door, brow raised. Cain found Valery’s fixation on Asil amid the chaos obsessive, but he had a point. Asil was impulsive. If he recklessly confronted Valery now, spouting something to provoke him, Cain would be stuck cleaning up the mess. Already swamped, he didn’t want to deal with their messy affairs. Vowing to keep Asil contained, Cain left, but as always, things didn’t go as planned.

The poison spread by Jenuka raged uncontrollably. Despite swiftly transferring infected cadets to the capital hospital, dozens more fell ill daily. The elite supplemental troops were repeatedly replaced with second- and third-string cadets. Two days before deployment, the final troop count was slashed from six hundred to four hundred, with nearly a hundred being inexperienced recruits.

“This can’t be.”

Yet Asil wasn’t selected. The remaining non-infected cadets were those with chronic illnesses, poor eyesight, or abysmal physical training scores. Among them, surrounded by aspiring staff officers who saw strategizing as their only exercise, was Asil.

“I can’t accept this…”

Muttering to himself, Asil paced his dorm room. Hurling Alain’s belongings, left behind after his selection, in frustration, Asil collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. His pride wasn’t just cracked—it was shattered. Despite enduring countless slanders and lies under Valery, he’d never felt this humiliated. The rumors were all false—he wasn’t some courtesan trading himself for Valery’s favor and safety!

But lately, things had taken a strange turn. He’d traded his body to Valery for gold, and now he looked like a frail, cowardly mistress hiding behind him out of fear of war. Despite never wanting it, everyone had made Asil into this. This wasn’t who he was. He couldn’t accept it. He hadn’t enrolled for this.

Poison didn’t scare him. Flying arrows or charging enemies would be welcome. He wanted to show his true self to comrades on the battlefield. He was a cadet, a soldier of the empire—not Valery’s courtesan. This was Asil Richard’s true self.

Leaping from the bed, Asil pressed his ear to the door. For days, someone had blatantly shadowed him. Stepping into the hallway brought excuses about infection or quarantine, keeping him confined. Asil knew this was Valery’s doing. Confirming the hallway was unusually quiet, he cautiously opened the door. Today, the Second Princess, a rising imperial heir, was visiting to encourage the deploying cadets. With everyone mobilized for the event, the corridor was silent.

Asil walked slowly down the long hallway. Intent on finding Valery, he climbed the stairs to the top floor of the dorm housing the cadet council room and Valery’s quarters. Even if it meant a bloody nose or, as Valery put it, being disciplined with his cock, Asil was determined to settle this.

“Huff… huff…”

Perhaps because he’d been confined for days without training, Asil’s legs trembled climbing the stairs. His breath caught oddly, and his cheeks felt hot. Wiping his damp forehead, he panted.

Arriving at Valery’s door far slower than usual, Asil flung it open without knocking. Contrary to his expectation that Valery might be absent, entertaining the princess, he was seated on his bed, rubbing his forehead wearily.

“Forget how to knock? No matter how urgent…”

“It’s me.”

“…Ugh. What a headache.”

Recognizing Asil instead of Cain, Valery swept back his drooping hair. Sighing heavily, he turned to Asil.

“Non-infected cadets were told to stay put until deployment.”

“Why am I not going?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“Why… am I not going! Do you think it makes sense that I’m not deploying in this situation? I’m in top physical condition, and my skills are undeniable. Do I have to say this myself to be taken? I’m far better than the selected recruits…”

As Valery stood abruptly, Asil faltered, lowering his voice. But biting his lip, he shouted again.

“…Far superior! You’re being unreasonable, Instructor. Utterly unreasonable!”

“Unreasonable?”

“Yes, unreasonable!”

Asil closed his eyes tightly. Perhaps from shouting, a sudden headache blurred his vision. Exhaling shakily, he opened his eyes to see Valery’s hand nearing his face. Bracing himself, Asil leaned into it defiantly.

Hit me if you want. Even if slapped dozens of times, he’d deploy. He’d go to Mailyn. There, he could hear news from home quickly. If a major war endangered his family, he could rush back. And if he achieved great deeds in Mailyn, his father would be overjoyed hearing it first…

“Asil, do you know what your face looks like right now?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Glaring at Valery’s odd comment, Asil touched his face. Trying to deflect? It was futile. He wasn’t afraid of being hit anymore. Slaps to the face or rear hurt only momentarily. They healed in days, leaving him unchanged. Such trivial violence could be endured.

“…Your face is pale.”

Valery’s broad, thick palm gently touched Asil’s right cheek. Not striking, but soft, as if handling a fragile glass bottle. His hand lingered, moving to Asil’s forehead, eyes, and nape.

“…You’re burning up.”

“…Me?”

“Damn it, Asil!”

Suddenly roaring, Valery grabbed Asil’s neck, forcing his face downward. Pressing Asil’s nose firmly, he applied strong pressure. Asil writhed, mumbling, “What are you doing?” But strangely, he lacked the strength to shake off Valery’s grip. His vision blurred, and his body tilted sideways against his will. Valery caught his collapsing form, looking down at Asil, limbs limp in his arms.

“…Asil.”

Tapping his pale cheek, Asil opened his eyes narrowly, gazing up at Valery.

“Take me too… cough!”

“Damn it…!”

Cursing, Valery lifted Asil.

“Fuck, shit…”

The sensation of his mind going blank, accompanied by disgust and unease, was a first for Valery. Asil was the only one to ever induce such panic. After a brief moment of judgment, Valery admitted it. The unsettling feeling was indeed panic. Sudden, overwhelming fear shook his core. His trembling hands, supporting Asil’s back, betrayed it. Despite Asil’s lighter-than-usual weight, Valery struggled to hold him steady.

Those exposed to the poison showed symptoms immediately. No patient had such a long incubation period like Asil. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have isolated him alone… No, he should’ve hospitalized Asil in the capital the moment he learned he was in the infected cafeteria. Treating him like the others was his mistake. Claiming Asil as his while letting him fall into such danger was a tragedy born of his negligence.

Valery turned Asil’s head, coughing up blood, to prevent blood and phlegm from blocking his airway.

“What’s… this… ugh… haa…”

“If you can talk, keep spitting out the blood in your mouth. Asil, can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

“Why do you keep… cough…! I hear, ugh…”

Asil spat out the blood filling his mouth, blinking rapidly. Then, his eyelids stilled, and his head dropped. The shouting in his ears faded. “Get a medic up here, damn it! Forget the princess, come now…”

Asil’s memories of his mother were clearer than his siblings’. After giving birth to Graeme, the youngest, she weakened rapidly, spending her final year bedridden before passing. During that time, Asil, at ten, tended to her devotedly. Small and frail, he barely reached her chest when embraced.

Asil had a love-hate relationship with his father, but he purely loved his mother. Under his father’s harsh upbringing, she was his sole nourishment. Though too weak to leave her room, unaware of how her husband treated her eldest son, she was kind and gentle. She pitied Asil and appreciated his care.

But Asil’s love for her was never fully reciprocated, remaining a one-sided devotion.

“It hurts, it hurts…”

A fever swept the estate. Young Asil suffered all night with a high fever. Drenched in cold sweat, his eyes swollen shut, he couldn’t see. His throat was so dry he couldn’t speak. Groping the walls, he stumbled forward. His father’s study was next to his room, but visiting in this state would only earn scolding for weakness—a soldier shouldn’t complain.

“I’ll find Mother, Mother…”

Asil’s determination to reach his mother reflects his deep emotional connection to her, despite the physical and emotional toll of his current situation. This memory underscores his resilience and the contrast between his mother’s nurturing presence and the harsh realities he faces under Valery’s control and his father’s expectations.

Asil staggered toward the end of the hallway where his mother’s bedroom lay. A sliver of light seeped through the crack of the door, indicating she was still awake. Dragging his heavy legs, weighed down like waterlogged cotton, Asil opened his mother’s door. Mother, I’m so sick. I think I’m as sick as you are. I might even die.

“Asil, you came at just the right time.”

Unlike her usual state, lying in bed and tended to by Asil, that night his mother was inexplicably sitting upright. She held young Graeme in her arms, with Kana and Olin nestled at her sides. Despite her exhausted expression, her arms tightly embraced her younger children with resolute strength.

“They’re scared because of the thunder and lightning. Could you go to the kitchen and make some cocoa for them?”

Only then did Asil notice the torrential rain pouring beyond the bedroom window. His fever was so severe that he hadn’t even registered the raging storm. Standing dazed at the doorway, Asil realized that on such stormy nights, his siblings naturally sought their mother’s room to be coddled.

“I’m sick…”

“What? Where does it hurt?”

Asil mumbled in a hoarse voice. Like a small child, he spread his arms wide and shuffled toward his mother. She carefully set Graeme down and approached Asil. Her frail, bony hand touched his forehead, then quickly withdrew.

“Oh dear, you’re burning up. It seems you’ve caught the fever.”

“Yes, yes…”

Asil tried to wrap his arms tightly around his mother’s waist, but he was gently pushed toward the door by her weak hands. His mother was sending him away.

“You might pass it to your siblings. Go back and rest.”

“But… ugh… I want to stay here…”

“Asil, think of your siblings. If everyone gets sick, it’ll be a big problem.”

“But my throat’s so dry…”

“Why is my mature boy acting like this today? Whining like a baby won’t do, Asil.”

His mother’s words, though they sounded harsh, were firm as she pulled Asil out the door. He tried to resist by planting his feet, but his fever-weakened body couldn’t even defy her gentle push.

“Mother, Mother… Please, just bring me some water. My throat’s so parched…”

Asil pleaded in a cracked, desperate voice. He had no strength to make it to the kitchen. Nor did he have the energy to wake Clark, who slept on the first floor. Moved by Asil’s rare plea, his mother nodded, promising to visit soon if he returned to his room and rested quietly. Relieved, Asil groped the walls, stumbling back to his bedroom.

Beneath a blanket that felt as heavy as a boulder, Asil coughed through the night, waiting for his mother. He longed for the small door to open, for her to enter with water to quench his thirst, to stroke his forehead as she had for Kana and Olin, and to sit by him until he fell asleep…

His mother never came, not until Asil, exhausted by the fever, fainted and only awoke late the next afternoon. Yet Asil couldn’t comfortably blame her or resent her for not coming. Her death that dawn left his childhood memories stranded in that moment.

“Asil, Asil. Why are you crying? Is it because you’re in pain?”

“Sob…”

Whenever gravely ill, Asil dreamt of that nightmare. The warm scene of his mother and siblings gathered in her bedroom, the searing thirst that choked him, the dawn hours battling the fever while waiting for her, the late afternoon when he rose, drenched in sweat, to receive a cup of water from Clark along with the devastating news…

“Don’t go, don’t go…”

It was so hard after you left, Mother. It’s been hard ever since. Father grows madder by the day, and my siblings expect too much from me. No one thinks of me. I always suffer alone, endure alone, heal alone. Mother, don’t go.

“He must be cold. The poor thing’s shivering.”

“It’s because his fever’s breaking. Valery, sir, since he’s showing improvement, please move the recruit to the quarantine room. I’m worried you might get infected.”

“Didn’t the story spread across the capital that the Grand Duke trained his heir with poison from childhood? You, of all people, should know it’s not baseless rumor.”

“Still, I’m uneasy. You are destined to lead the empire…”

Someone was conversing beside him. Amid their words, a warm, large hand continued to gently stroke Asil’s forehead, brushing back his damp hair. Occasionally, a cool, damp cloth wiped under his chin and along his neck, prompting Asil to let out a sigh-like groan and sniffle. After years of yearning for such tenderness, Asil instinctively grabbed the large hand moving across his face. It was a hand so broad and heavy it could’ve been twice the size of his own. The hand’s owner flinched at Asil’s touch, curling his fingers briefly before interlocking them tightly, enveloping Asil’s hand completely. Asil, too, gripped the unfamiliar fingers firmly.

“Asil, can you come to? Open your eyes.”

At the tender concern he’d dreamt of, Asil’s eyelashes, matted with tears and sweat, trembled. After a few seconds, he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of radiant, golden eyes, busily scanning his face. Next, he noticed the suspiciously dark circles under those eyes, disheveled blond hair, and rough, dry skin… The hand Asil clung to like a lifeline was none other than Valery’s. The terrifying, repulsive hand that had struck his cheeks and demanded submission.

“Asil…”

But something was strange. He couldn’t let go of this hand. As if their palms were glued together, Asil pulled Valery’s hand to his chest, holding it close.

Shortly after, Asil fainted again. Perhaps because he’d closed his eyes while clutching the most dreadful thing in the world, he felt he might not have nightmares anymore.