“……I will inform the Grand Duke that things have turned out this way.”

The administrator spoke with a solemnity that bordered on tragic, his face tight with tension. His complexion was pale, perhaps because he feared this unpredictable prince might draw his sword and cut his throat at any moment. No matter how much the administrator was a high official trusted by royalty and carrying the Grand Duke’s direct orders, Prince Kyan was of a temperament that would gladly decapitate anyone who crossed his will.

Despite his fear, the administrator spoke what needed to be said. He stood rigidly, bracing for whatever punishment might strike him, but the prince showed no sign of drawing his blade. Prince Kyan seemed entirely indifferent to whatever the administrator babbled, merely lost in deep thought.

After a brief silence, the administrator let his shoulders sag slightly, clicking his tongue as he muttered to himself.

“If only that young man had let himself be escorted quietly, he wouldn’t have come to much harm……”

He was a suspect, not a proven culprit. Moreover, everyone knew the accusation was merely a case of burying one’s head in the sand* and that Isaac was not the actual killer. Even if the Grand Duke needed a target to vent his fury on, things wouldn’t have gone to the absolute worst. The Grand Duke was a sensible, rational man; the matter would have ended covertly with the prince’s side paying the ducal house some degree of—admittedly steep—compensation.

(*눈 가리고 아웅: Covering someone’s eyes and saying ‘a-woong’ is a Korean idiom meaning trying to deceive people with an obvious or ineffective trick, or making a superficial attempt to hide the truth.)

But now that the young man had fled, he had become a major criminal. He would face a far harsher punishment than if he had simply complied.

“I heard he was a guard with a fairly good reputation as a capable talent, so I cannot comprehend why he made such a foolish choice,” the administrator muttered. “Haiz,” he raised his teacup and swallowed the tea along with a bitter breath.

The prince, who had been resting his chin on his knuckles, lost in thought, drifted his gaze toward the administrator.

‘It was because he had no time.’

Some might say he fled out of fear of punishment or because he was a coward, but his guard was not that stupid. If Isaac had been escorted to the capital, his life would actually have been easier. He was not one to overlook the fact that being locked in a prison cell would be far safer and more comfortable. Yet, despite that, he chose to run.

“……”

The prince clicked his tongue half-unconsciously. At that low click, the people in the reception room flinched with tension, warily reading his mood. Since earlier, they had been watching him with anxious, tip-toeing caution.

Weak creatures, unless they were hopelessly stupid, were naturally quick to read the room. It was the only way they could survive. And the prince was, as he himself was well aware, in a highly foul mood.

Or perhaps ‘foul mood’ didn’t cover it. Ever since the moment his displeasure and rage had tangled together and frozen at their peak, the prince could not clearly define what it was he was feeling.

“On another note, we have received reports of strange movements among the soldiers stationed in the borderlands. That is, the very region where Prince Kyan was stationed until last year.”

The administrator spoke up, perhaps seeking to change the subject. The prince merely cast a glance at him without uttering a word, and the administrator, keeping his face rigid under that gaze, continued.

“Of course, the borderland soldiers have always loyally guarded the frontier, so I doubt anything serious will happen, but as you know, they are rather wild and difficult to control. While Prince Kyan was there, you managed them well, but now that you are gone, there are some concerns……”

“Has Roberni entered Heilen?”

The prince cut the administrator off. He had absolutely no interest in what the man was trying to say, nor did his thoughts shift to any other topic.

Right now, the prince was thinking of only one thing.

Sensing something in the prince’s quiet question, the administrator’s face turned pale and rigid. Under the administrator’s gaze, his adjutant also warily read the room before answering in a stiff voice.

“……No, Your Highness. However, we believe a significant number of Roberni’s subordinates have come to Heilen. We expect Roberni herself will likely arrive soon as well.”

“I see. Is that so?”

The prince nodded and rose from his seat. Casting a glance out the window at the sinking sun, he spoke to the administrator and the others who had hastily scrambled to their feet.

“Tell the Grand Duke I send my formal condolences for the death of Lord Leon. Even though he was the one who first drew his sword against me, a father who has lost a child is naturally entitled to consolation. I do not care what he demands—as long as it is not an excessively foolish request.”

“He is a man who knows well enough where the line of reason lies,” the prince said, turning away as if he were done with the matter, before adding, “And…”

“The name Roberni will vanish from this world before the year is out. Along with anyone who sympathized with or aided her. Not a single soul will remain.”

The moment those words left his lips, a silence like drenching cold water fell over the reception room.

There was no one in the room who failed to comprehend the colossal weight of those words.

Roberni was not merely the leader of some simple criminal syndicate. Her influence reached deep into the royalty, the nobility, and the merchant guilds that held the economic foundations of the land. Eradicating Roberni meant risking turning all of them into enemies—and the prince was declaring his absolute intent to do exactly that.

The administrator had been about to open his mouth to suggest that: ‘We had no intention of shielding Roberni, but rushing his downfall would trigger immense political backlash and strain,’—that it might be wise to reconsider. But under the prince’s icy blue gaze, his throat froze over, and he could say nothing.

Like a small beast suddenly realizing it was standing right before the open maw of a terrifying predator, his body froze in instinctive, all-consuming terror.

The prince turned his head away, completely losing interest in the administrator whose face had paled in an instant.

The decision had been made.

The prince strode out of the reception room, leaving behind a silence so absolute that even the sound of breathing had ceased.

* * *

The bedroom was neatly arranged.

Though the bed was made so perfectly without a single crease that it looked as if no one had ever lain there, the room still bore the distinct traces of occupancy. The clothes hanging on the rack, the books laid out on the table, the trivial personal belongings.

The prince idly surveyed those things, then sat down on the sofa by the window, resting his chin on his hand. He stared toward the bed—just as he had done countless times before.

Only a few hours ago, he had been sitting in this exact spot. The only difference between then and now was that the bed had held a person then, and now it was empty.

“……”

The prince’s brow twitched. He did not like it. The sight of that empty bed grated on his nerves.

Only hours ago, his guard had been right there. He had been lying there, fast asleep, dead to the world. And several hours before that, he had been sobbing, crying, and tossing wildly on that very surface. All through the night, he had clung to the prince without a moment’s respite, panting breathlessly as he called his name over and over. He had wrapped his arms tightly around Kyan’s neck, holding on as if he would never let go.

Yes, the fellow had truly bewitched him, like the witch he was. To indulge so deeply in something…… it was perhaps a first in his life.

An encounter of this nature was entirely unprecedented. Strictly speaking, what the prince had engaged in up to this point had not been intimacy. It was more accurate to call it a simple discharge, or the mere relief of physical desire. For Kyan, satisfying his own impulses had always been the sole concern.

This was the first time he had truly recognized the ‘partner’ through whom he relieved those desires——ah no, almost everything about it was a first. It was a completely foreign experience, entirely detached from anything he had done before.

He had realized it from the very moment he pushed his desire into that body. The moment Kyan pinned down that squirming, bewildered body and drove himself into those tight, narrow depths, he understood.

The lingering sense of lack he had carried all this time——the empty, unfulfilled feeling that always nagged at him whenever he looked at his guard, brushed against his skin, breathed in his scent, or bit into his neck to drink his fill of blood….. So it had been this.

This absolute fulfillment.

Enveloped in the sweltering heat that wrapped around him without a single gap, Kyan had tasted a suffocating fullness for the very first time.

Yet simultaneously, paradoxically, a terrifying hunger had clawed at him.

It wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near enough. He wanted to consume more. More. He wanted to swallow him whole, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

The sensation of an unrecognized void being filled, and the sensation of a violent, unrecognized hunger suddenly devouring him. The prince had learned for the first time that these two opposing sensations could coexist.

But that sensation was not felt most vividly when the prince discharged his lust. It was when his guard clung to him. When the youth wrapped his arms around Kyan, holding him close. When he surrendered everything while simultaneously embracing him completely.

He could feel his own vital energy flowing into him. He also knew instinctively that no matter how thirstily the youth drank of his energy, his own supply would never run dry. The life force flowed from him to Isaac like a slow, majestic river. It was a pleasure akin to an endless, ceaseless release.

Then, when had it been?

‘…… Kyan.’

He had whispered the prince’s name.

He had not been calling him out of conscious intent. Exhausted after hours of relentless possession, his consciousness had drifted so far that he likely didn’t even know what he was saying or doing.

‘Prince Kyan,’ he had murmured the name again. As he did, he pulled Kyan’s neck closer, pressing his lips to his. He wasn’t trying to feed on vital energy. He merely overlapped their lips and licked Kyan’s tongue, holding the prince in his embrace. He held Kyan as if cuddling something precious, stroking him with deep affection. Cradled by the youth who gently stroked his back, shoulders, and hair while kissing him, the prince had remained entirely still.

It was the first time he did not find it offensive for someone to touch his body or his head. On the contrary, those hands had felt soothing, bringing a lazy comfort.

And whenever that sense of fullness was overtaken once more by a savage hunger, the prince would set out to quench his endless, parched greed for the countless time.

He had never known a witch could bewitch someone so masterfully. Nor had he known he himself could become so utterly absorbed, so consumed by anything.

‘Very well. Let us see just how much more this witch can beguile me.’

Kyan wondered if it was possible to be enchanted even further, and what kind of feeling that would bring.

He could simply indulge to his heart’s content, and once he was satisfied, he would cut it off. Breaking free from indulgence or addiction had always been an easy task for him. Thus, the prince intended to ravage and possess him without restraint until he felt he had had enough.

And though he had finally withdrawn from that body only after the guard, having repeatedly fainted and awakened as dawn broke, ultimately lost consciousness entirely, Kyan still did not feel satisfied.

That was why the prince had sat in this very spot, silently watching the sleeping youth breathe his heavy, exhausted breaths. And even that sight, strangely enough, never grew tiresome.

Even when the chief chamberlain knocked repeatedly on the door, frantic with urgent matters that required the prince’s personal attention, Kyan did not stir from his seat. He remained still until the persistent pounding threatened to rouse his guard from his deep slumber.

It was his first time ever thinking he should leave someone alone so they could sleep a little longer. As he rose and left the room, the prince briefly wondered if he was being excessively generous to a witch—but he decided to let it slide.

He wouldn’t keep him alive forever anyway.

Once his usefulness was exhausted, that witch would die. Therefore, showing this much indulgence was perfectly fine.

Since he would eliminate him before long.

“——.”

The prince’s eyes narrowed.

The empty bed caught his attention with jarring clarity. The neat, tidy sheets, looking as though no one had ever been there in the first place, displeased him. It felt as though dark, charred ash were settling in a corner of his chest.

“……Not right now.”

The prince murmured quietly.

He would eradicate every witch soon enough, and his guard would be no exception.

But not right now.

Until he willed it, Isaac must not disappear, nor must he die.

The prince rose from his seat and strode over to the bed. He grabbed the neatly arranged bedding and flung it aside.

He was in a foul mood. Displeasure, rage, and unfamiliar emotions he could not define had been tangled together, clinging like black soot to the bottom of his chest.

Deep beneath his heart, something seemed to boil endlessly—a shallow, persistent fire. A corner of his nerves felt raw and hot. Even the backs of his eyes seemed to ripple.

He did not know how to name this sensation, which was entirely foreign to his usual cool, heavy composure.

He could guess the reason.

It was because the witch had fled. Ever since then, this foul irritation had clung to him.

Technically, there was no need for this. The witch hadn’t run away from him. Even if he had, he was bound by the oath of the dark moon and would have to return when the night came. Furthermore, the fellow was agile and clever, so there was little to worry about; even in the worst-case scenario, as long as his heart and eyes—the tools needed to scry the Witch of Roberni—remained intact, nothing else mattered.

As long as his heart and eyes are unharmed, it does not matter if he injures an arm.

“……”

Suddenly, the bewildered face of his guard flashed in his memory.

The youth standing dazed in the courtyard, clutching his blood-soaked shoulder, looking utterly lost under the collective stares. Drenched in blood that dripped endlessly onto the stones, he had looked around in confusion, but the moment he grasped the situation, he had paused for a brief instant before turning away without hesitation.

His panic had lasted only a second; his face had quickly settled into calm resolve, and from the moment he made his decision to the moment he snatched the horse and rode away, there hadn’t been a single tremor of doubt in his movements.

In that moment, the prince had realized anew: that was the fellow’s true nature. Once Isaac made a decision, he would never waver. And it was that very realization that had triggered another wave of indefinable irritation in the prince.

“An injured arm is of little consequence, but……”

The prince murmured abruptly. Striding back to the window, his gaze was chillingly cold. A quiet murmur slipped through his teeth.

“Not unless I allow it.”

Yes, his guard’s arm could be injured. But only when the prince willed it. Unless he permitted it, that witch was not allowed to get hurt. Regarding that witch, everything had to proceed strictly according to his desires.

Outside the window, the sky was already painted in a deep red sunset.

The prince opened the window and let out a long, sharp whistle. Soon after the piercing sound rent the air, a massive falcon soared in from the distant horizon.

The magnificent bird of prey landed heavily on his forearm, rolling its intelligent eyes as it tamely accepted the prince’s touch stroking its beak. Untying a slip of paper bound to the falcon’s leg, Kyan scanned its contents before tossing it into the hearth. He fed a chunk of raw meat to the bird after its long flight and murmured as he stroked its wing.

“I must find him first. It is unacceptable to leave what is mine running wild.”

With a gentle flick of the prince’s arm, the falcon, having swallowed the large chunk of meat in a few quick bites, spread its wings and took flight.

“Find where he is. With your eyes, it shouldn’t take long.”

As if understanding the prince’s command, the falcon circled once above his head before soaring high. With a fierce flapping of wings, it surged into the sky and quickly vanished from sight.

The prince traced the bird’s path as it disappeared into the crimson sunset, watching until the red twilight turned violet and began to blend into the night sky.

The critical moment was fast approaching, and time was running short. To achieve his ultimate goal, there was much he had to do.

But finding his guard came first. That was the paramount task, and Kyan had no intention of simply sitting back and waiting for the youth to return on his own. He couldn’t, not with this irritating, unfamiliar anxiety – a sensation Kyan had never known before – charring the inside of his chest.

His guard belonged in his place. And that place had to be right where Kyan could see him whenever he turned his head—where Kyan could reach out and seize him at any moment.

Whatever the reason, whatever the excuse, no matter what justification anyone, even Kyan himself, tried to offer——the ultimate, clearest truth of all was simply that.