11 – Act 4, Chapter 2

Hasty footsteps paced throughout the office. Unlike one who moved slowly, the other circled around restlessly. The owner of those distressed steps was Robert Higgins, who had received a unilateral notification from his partner.

“Lester, why on earth are you doing this?”

At the trembling tone, MacQueen stopped packing his things and turned his head.

“……As I just said, I plan to rendezvous in Plymouth and depart.”

“Lester!”

Robert’s face crumpled messily as he shouted. His mind had been in turmoil ever since he read the urgent letter delivered by Aljef.

“I trust you aren’t doing this without knowing the current situation. Your position is at its worst! Since Lady Elisha’s funeral, the Duke of Devonshire has completely turned his back on you. He is shifting all the criticism directed at himself onto you. Even now, he’s likely busy in Buckingham shifting his sins onto you before the Queen. I’m already exhausted just flying around the chambers in Westminster.”

“…….”

“And what about Klaus Diugen? What happens if you leave? A significant number of clients are already trying to pull out, and the goods are completely tied up in India and Macau—are you just ignoring all of this? All the investors trusted you and invested enormous sums. These circumstances…… no, no……”

Robert shook his head violently and pressed his hand to his forehead. The veins on the back of his pale hand looked more prominent than usual.

“Right…… putting all that aside…… you need treatment.”

“No. I am perfectly sane.”

“Sane? You’re saying that because you don’t know your own state. Do you know what you look like? Do you have any idea what state you’re in right now?”

Despite the questioning, the other man gave no answer.

“Didn’t the doctor say so too? That your addiction symptoms are severe, that you need systematic treatment. You were exposed to too much opium and medication in too short a time. You might be managing to endure it now, but how long will that last?”

“I sincerely wish to apologize to you. I will delegate all rights and assets related to Klaus Diugen to you. I’ll handle that part through a law firm. You will certainly not suffer any financial loss.”

“You know I didn’t say this because I wanted something like that! Delegate everything to me? Haha, if you give it all to me, then what? What do you plan to do with that one ship you’re taking now? How do you intend to pay the people on board? You don’t think your fortune is an inexhaustible spring, do you?”

“…….”

“Lester, you really need to go to a hospital first.”

Despite the harsh words, the only response was a powerless smile. Robert, watching him with a stunned expression, felt his eyes harden. His colleague was acting truly like someone whose mind was completely broken.

“No, it’s not necessary.”

“Lester!”

“It is not something that requires treatment.”

“Have you truly gone mad?”

Contrary to the fierce words, his voice trembled. Robert took a step closer with a desperate heart.

“If you leave London at this point, everything is truly over.”

“…….”

“I mean it’s truly the end.”

Even at the clumsy threat, the detached expression did not change.

“Lester.”

His parched lips parted.

“Is it alright for everything we dreamed of to collapse? The cash certificates and promissory notes are about to become cheap scraps of paper. At this rate, Klaus Diugen is finished. The Parliament, your dreams, this business, the many people who trusted and followed you! Do you even know how the public opinion regarding you is flowing before you say such things?!”

“I.”

A voice devoid of emotion cut through the gap. Closing his bag, MacQueen looked up. The sight of his friend, stained with fear, entered his vision.

He recalled the time that had passed. The smelly, dirty back alleys; the curses, degradation, and pointing fingers directed at him; every single moment he climbed upward while cursing the absurdities that ruled the world.

“I only ran looking forward. Because that was all there was.”

Wind entered through a slightly open gap. What season was it? He couldn’t remember the exact date. He thought he had a fairly good memory, but perhaps not even that. MacQueen met Robert’s eyes again. He knew that the anxiety etched into that worry-filled expression was not a lie.

“Nothing can be undone.”

The eyes filled with despair shook violently. I want to die. The feeling boiling up beneath his heart surged. Barely suppressing the impulse to commit suicide right then and there, MacQueen mocked himself.

“Lester.”

“Robert.”

MacQueen hid his involuntarily trembling hand and lifted his chin. A severe dizziness washed over him. Whenever the symptoms flared up, he remembered his lover, who had suffered all day without a wink of sleep. His stiff lips trembled slightly and curved. The sins he had carefully accumulated over a long time returned twofold to judge him cruelly.

“My memories have returned.”

At the unexpected words, Robert gasped.

“Your memories returned?”

His murmuring voice was rough.

“Do you mean the things that happened in Ramdiff Forest?”

“Yes.”

“All of them…… everything?”

“……No.”

At the following question, MacQueen smiled bitterly and shook his head. The pouring memories sometimes took the form of one large story, a single scene, or passed lines and sensations. There was no distinction between before and after, nor was there any probability or validity to the emotions felt. Amidst the mess of all sequences, he was certain of only one thing.

“It’s a relief that your memories…… returned, but…… what does that have to do with this? Does the memory you recovered become a reason to abandon the fruits you’ve cultivated and the obligations you must take responsibility for, to throw everything away and leave?”

“…….”

“Was it not just about half a year? Whatever happened during that period, how could it possibly……”

“……Robert.”

Robert did not miss the guilt that passed over MacQueen’s face. He hurriedly clung to MacQueen.

“Yes, Lester. It’s only half a year’s worth of memories. Yes, yes. Half a year. If those memories have come back, then it makes even less sense to leave like this. The Duke of Cornwall and the men of the Wizfeldon family kept you locked in Ramdiff Forest for half a year and covered up the fact. They even planned to eliminate you while everyone else had given up on you. Have you forgotten? Even then, I was the one who didn’t let go of you until the end!”

“Robert.”

It was different from the truth, but MacQueen did not correct him. From an outside perspective, it was a natural story. He knew that the truth held by the core revealed inside the shell was neither important nor meaningful unless it was to the person themselves.

Just as it had been for him.

“Yes, damn it! It was me. I was the one who didn’t give up and saved you. If not for that, we probably wouldn’t even be having this conversation here today. Is the price for that such a worthless and irresponsible conclusion?”

“…….”

A heavy, sorrowful breath lingered. Robert ruffled his hair with both hands, panting repeatedly. He couldn’t wrap his head around the current situation, which spiraled toward the worst the more he struggled.

“While you were breaking down in Briston, I also ran without rest to protect the values you and I established. I had to protect your position as a Member of Parliament in Westminster and block all the criticism directed at Klaus Diugen with my own body. Day after day, I dealt with anxious investors and merchants, and on those days, I couldn’t even sleep without drinking! I was the one who felt like falling into that damn opium!”

“……Robert.”

“I wanted to protect Klaus Diugen by dedicating my life to it. It’s dirty. Dirty indeed. But what was I supposed to do? If we hadn’t done such dirty work, we probably wouldn’t have even made it past ten years old; we would have been rolling around as corpses somewhere in the filthy, stinking sewers of Camden Town!”

“…….”

“Wasn’t it because we held hands to escape that place together? Didn’t we decide to give up being human to climb higher? Was it not a lifelong promise? How can you throw away such a promise overnight?”

They had no family, no guardians. Half of those who banded together to survive starved to death or were beaten to death. The other half died of disease, half of those died in accidents, and half of the remaining took the fall for the crimes of nobles and died instead. The reasons varied, but the conclusion was one.

A shabby and miserable death.

To those without money and power, England was never a great empire.

“It’s only been a few months. Is the memory of that time so significant that it overturns the entire life you’ve built? What does it matter if you didn’t recover it or if you did. If you didn’t, you’d stay as you were; if you did, you could just carry those memories and live in the present.”

MacQueen Lester was a comrade who had survived that place together. He was family. Evaluations of being a drug lord, a murderer, or someone dirty, vile, and base were not important to them. Or so he believed.

“Lester.”

“…….”

“Nothing changes.”

Eyes that had regained their composure stared straight at MacQueen.

“Focus on the present rather than the past. Listen to me.”

It was a statement facing reality. It wasn’t wrong.

“The present.”

MacQueen smiled brightly. The reason he felt déjà vu was that he had once uttered the exact same words.

“I heard that you might not be able to recover your memories.”

“That’s what they said. But it doesn’t matter if I don’t. It’s only a few months, and even if I don’t recover the memories from that time, there is no change in my life. Even now, nothing has changed.”

MacQueen remembers the moment those pale blue eyes became drenched in emptiness. Even after several years, that moment remained as vivid as if it happened yesterday. Because the expression of the man, who had always been arrogant and noble, had collapsed in an instant.

“It has no meaning?”

“I decided to think of it as having slept. Because the present and future are more important than the days gone by. Of course, there were some problems with my company for a while, but it’s not that big of a deal. Though it may be disappointing for you.”

Sins eventually circle back to their origin. The returning tide stopped at the most cruel point, forcing him to face reality. Memories flowed frantically. MacQueen thought of the man who had been captivated by a past that no one—except for one person—remembered.

“You have a foolish side to you.”

“So forget everything. The past, the mistakes.”

That lonely smile distorted by agony.

His loneliness.

“The present, you say……”

Smiling as if sighing, MacQueen hid his furrowed brow with his palm. His steady breath didn’t last long. Bile rose. It was so nauseating he felt like vomiting immediately. The source of the disgust was within himself. In this moment, the person MacQueen Lester loathed and found disgusting was none other than himself.

As you said, I was foolish and lacking, so I couldn’t remember any of the memories we shared. I forgot everything and dismissed that time as trash. Even I viewed it that way, so who could respect our time……

Aaron.

Not you and I…… but who on earth.

“The present you spoke of is collapsing, Rob.”

A heavy and desperate whisper escaped.

“I dream of death countless times a day.”

“Lester!”

“Every morning, the day that returns is simply horrific.”

Silence fell at the words he could never have imagined. With his eyes covered, precariously leaning on the table, MacQueen quietly continued.

“From the moment I open my eyes until the moment I close them, there is no time that is not hell.”

“Lester……”

“That is why I touched opium.”

Darkness cast over his gaunt face. Memories that didn’t connect led into dreams. Happy moments were short. They were fleetingly instantaneous and held no great meaning. It was merely a daily life like a child’s game.

“I cannot endure it.”

“…….”

“I cannot endure how filthy I am.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“The sin of deceiving me.”

“The sin of leaving…… and making me believe.”

“……I loathe it so much I cannot endure it……”

The blurred memories, entwined with a history of deception, attacked MacQueen. The time spent hiding the heart, turning away, and rationalizing.

It was Robert who broke the silence.

“……Do you have any intention of returning?”

“Robert.”

“Are you going with the intention of returning to England?”

There was no proper answer. The meaning of the silence was clear. Robert, who had stood in silence for a long time, had his face distort grotesquely.

“You have no intention of returning.”

Eyes the color of greenery dimmed. The emotions condensed in layers within the deep irises were a longing for something that did not exist here. Whether that identity was a person, a place, or a memory, he could not tell.

“……From the beginning, you had no heart to return.”

A hollow laugh burst out. Robert staggered and sank into a chair. The eyes staring at the floor had long since gone dark and dead.

“You intend to die there.”

Instead of saying no, MacQueen put a cigarette in his mouth. The hand lighting it still trembled, unable to find its center. Soon, acrid smoke mixed with his breath.

He must be dead.

Even while going mad, the calculatingly bright and vulgar opium merchant knew. From the moment the Duke of Devonshire spoke in the chamber, even in the moments he was isolated in Briston House buried in delusions. The reason that had lived realistically his entire life had already reached a conclusion.

He must be dead.

That sea must have crushed, bitten, and swallowed him.

It must have devoured my master, leaving not a single strand of hair.

In that vast sea, I will never find my lover.

It is impossible for him to be alive.

He must have died.

Aaron Wizfeldon of Cornwall.

He must be dead.

A deep breath mixed with smoke. The smell was pungent, and the scent lingering in his mouth was extremely bitter. Pain flooded his mind again, but MacQueen quickly shook his head to drive it away.

……I can just die with him.

Eyes painted with turbid emotions curved softly.

Of course. I can just die with him.

“Robert. No matter what I say, I won’t be able to persuade you.”

Wind entered through the open window. Soft silk curtains danced. Between them, the brightly ripened sun surged together.

“Anyway, even if I stay, it’s impossible to continue my seat as a Member of Parliament. As you know, my condition isn’t that good. Even if I step forward clumsily, I’ll only become prey.”

Through that, a beautiful man appeared sporadically. It was a hallucination. Despite knowing this, MacQueen took a sharp breath. His tense Adam’s apple moved.

“I have neither the will nor the leisure to try and catch up with the time that has passed.”

“Theodore.”

With a smile more brilliant than light, his lover called him. He knew. It was a fantasy. His lover had only called him by that name properly once, before he lost consciousness in the cottage. That call full of sorrow was all.

“I cannot control everything that happens in Garaway. You know that too, don’t you?”

“…….”

The illness was only being suppressed for a moment; there was no telling when the symptoms would burst out. Once the perception that it wasn’t reality collapsed, everything else would collapse in a chain reaction without time to intervene. That must not happen. Now, he had a goal he absolutely had to achieve.

“I’m sorry for repeating myself, but I will delegate all rights related to Klaus to you. Robert, I, for me……”

When he didn’t respond to the call, the lover, now firmly angry, withdrew his smile. MacQueen felt a sense of urgency. He’s going to leave me again. He’s going to leave me again.

“I have no time.”

His voice, having lost its reason, trembled with urgency. How his lifelong friend, who was like family, viewed him was no longer important to MacQueen.

“I must depart as quickly as possible. I have no time, Robert. Please do not stop me any longer.”

After scanning the surroundings with a quick glance, MacQueen placed the other bags on the floor onto the table.

“Is love truly that great?”

The voice, devoid of motivation, echoed hoarsely. The hand organizing the remaining luggage stopped again. MacQueen tilted his head slightly, not understanding the question.

“To the point where you give up everything and leave in such an irresponsible manner? Your time lived, your entire life?”

“Love?”

Asking back with a surprised voice, MacQueen pulled the corners of his mouth up as far as they could go.

“I mean your feelings for Earl Vispilt. Are you doing this because you love that man?”

He lacked even the energy to express the disgust associated with abnormal feelings toward the same sex. For Robert Higgins, daily life over the past few years had been a succession of accidents. In a routine where his spirit was being carved away like a cliffside, perhaps such a relationship was merely a jagged or protruding corner. Robert sobbed quietly, covering his eyes. After watching him for a moment, MacQueen picked up his bags with both hands, his expression composed.

“……It is not solely because of such feelings, it is just……”

At that moment, a stronger gust of wind rattled the window. Startled by the sudden noise, his lover vanished completely. Grieving the heartlessness of that disappearance, MacQueen murmured feebly.

“If it is not me, there is no one else who would accompany that man even to hell.”

“…….”

“I cannot leave him there alone.”

“…….”

“That is the only reason.”

Without waiting for an answer, MacQueen immediately headed for the door.

“I am sorry.”

If he could not meet him, he could simply follow.

✧ ✧ ✧

The harbor at dawn was thick with fog. Around the ships, it was crowded with those departing on long voyages. MacQueen observed the sailors moving busily before glancing to his side. A dense silhouette appeared through the moisture-laden mist.

“You have arrived.”

“……You are early.”

Caliven Wisfield, greeting him with a handshake, scanned the anchored speed-boat with sunken eyes. Understanding the meaning behind that gaze, MacQueen shrugged his shoulders with an awkward smile.

“It is a speed-boat of the highest performance. I cannot tell you how many years I devoted to its development. More capital and effort went into this than into most warships.”

“At that level, it would not have been permitted.”

At the innocent question regarding the standards, MacQueen subtly curled one corner of his mouth.

“There is nothing that cannot be achieved with money and lobbying, Sir Caliven Wisfield. Whether it be the Royal Family or Parliament, they always need a dog willing to do their dirty work for them.”

“……I did not intend to criticize.”

“I know.”

MacQueen murmured indifferently and popped the collar of his frock coat. The salty wind clung viscously to his skin.

“I intend to depart as soon as the sun rises. The plan is to head south along the coastline, centering around Dinghai Port. According to the locals, the sea breeze blows from north to south during this season. I intend to carefully trace the area around the rendezvous point you informed me of.”

“……I see.”

“The day is breaking. Once the sun becomes visible, it will be over in an instant.”

The sky, which had been pitch black upon his arrival, began to show a faint halo of light from a distant point.

“What do you intend to do with the business you conducted here?”

Breaking the long silence, Caliven posed a question. It was a doubt that had remained in a corner of his heart since MacQueen Lester had departed.

“I heard you resigned from your seat in Parliament. That there will be another election in the constituency where the Baronet belonged……”

“That was fast.”

MacQueen laughed quietly. There was no regret in the way he stroked his chin.

“It is a natural result. Who would refuse such sweet poison? Just as I did, another will cling to it, craving the fruit. Are there not replaceable desires scattered everywhere, practically underfoot?”

He was a man who had possessed too much power, who had struggled and willingly committed sins to protect the rotten treasure in his hands. And yet, in an instant, he was attempting to leave it all behind.

Once he left, it was the end. Even if he returned, the castle that the man known as MacQueen Lester had built would surely scatter like grains of sand. No matter how exceptional his abilities, the power circles of Westminster were not merciful enough to wait indefinitely for a defector. The void he had already left was already at its limit.

“Are you truly alright?”

“Whether it be a person or a thing, does it not tilt once it is too full?”

“I say this because I know the effort the Baronet put in before entering the House of Commons.”

It was a meaningless question. MacQueen shrugged his shoulders again. The experiences of the past few months, during which his mind had crumbled and his heart had been shattered, were enough to completely overturn a value system that prioritized only results. No power felt sweet, nor was it longed for.

“I clung to a tightrope for too long. I grew tired. I lost interest in everything. I lost my purpose. That is the only reason.”

Only a vacant hole remained, an emptiness that could not be filled by anything. He now wished for himself to appear infinitely light and trivial to anyone. He wanted every breath he exhaled, every step he took, to be perceived as insignificant and frivolous. It was the price for deceiving and ignoring his emotions.

“Oh dear, is it already this time?”

MacQueen checked his pocket watch and clicked his tongue briefly. It was almost the boundary between dawn and morning.

“Please head back. There are many eyes watching. It would be best not to advertise the fact that you are here. You know well the levity of gossips who carry rumors to the Royal Family.”

Murmuring as if shaking off old baggage, MacQueen turned around. His dark brown hair fluttered in the direction of the wind.

“Lord Lester.”

A choked voice followed from behind. MacQueen paused his steps. It resembled a longing voice from his memories.

“Thank you.”

Caliven, having removed his top hat, bowed deeply toward the man standing with his back turned.

“Thank you.”

Moisture seeped in as he blinked slowly. Before leaving Worburn House, Caliven recalled the hate-filled words of his brother, who had been smiling brightly.

“Watch over the end of that old demon. Record how he dies, how much he suffers, and how much he despairs. Remind him at every moment that I am dead. If we ever meet again, I hope you will tell me all of that despair, without omitting a single moment.”

It was a cruel instruction to the end, but he had to keep it. Some might mock this blind side of him as foolish. Caliven considered it his destiny as well.

“Thank you for not leaving my brother alone there, and for forgiving my brother.”

His wet cheeks and tightly closed lips trembled, unable to withstand the anguish.

“Thank you for taking responsibility for the hell you created.”

Hatred and gratitude boiled and overturned repeatedly. He hated him because he was the one who had ultimately pushed his brother, who had stood precariously at the crossroads of life, over the edge. On the other hand, he was grateful that he intended to take responsibility for his brother’s end.

“Someday, everyone will be punished fairly according to the sins they have committed.”

“…….”

Their eyes met again. As the dawn opened, his gaunt and pale yet exceptional features were fully revealed. Baronet MacQueen Lester was the only man to whom his brother—who had lived his entire life sustained by hatred for his father—had given a part of his heart.

Even if it was a relationship with a predetermined end, one that gnawed away at each other’s lives.

“Just as my father did and my brother did. I am the same, and so is the Baronet. I believe we shall all receive the price for the sins we committed.”

At this consolation that was not quite a consolation, MacQueen quietly curved his lips and cast a distant gaze toward the harbor.

“A price. What a dreamlike thing to say. If that were true, would the Royal Family not be the first group to be punished? The masters of this country who have stained both hands with countless blood for thousands of years. Do you truly believe the most great person in England would be punished? Do you truly believe that?”

The eyes looking into the distance were utterly dry.

“……If receiving punishment according to one’s sins is justice, then justice does not exist in this world, Sir Caliven Wisfield.”

“…….”

“Life, law, and justice are always unfair. Fairness is the prerogative of the rulers. I hope you awaken from that dream as soon as possible.”

The leader of the group that forms a society survives until the end. It was an immutable truth that had not changed over centuries. There were plenty of rotten branches to take the blame and die in his stead. It was so in the past, and it would be so in the future.

“I hope you fare well. I also wish to thank you for giving me this opportunity, Sir. Whatever your intention may have been……”

The horizon, touched by sunlight, began to glow. MacQueen paused his words and stared blankly at the scene.

Where the sky and sea met, particles of light shattered and spread like jewel grains. He knew hair that resembled that light.

“Thank you for giving me a justification to go find that person.”

Swallowing all the words that welled up, MacQueen gave a short bow. His steps toward the sailing ship no longer held any hesitation.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Line up, line up, line up!”

“Adjust the sails and check the spare rudder!”

On the deck, groups of sailors moved busily for the upcoming voyage.

After observing those around him for a moment, MacQueen walked back to the table and opened his bag. His hand rummaging through the luggage was utterly careless. The belongings he had brought consisted of only a few sets of clothes and a few items. It was excessively modest for the luggage of a man who had once shaken the commercial districts of England and the House of Commons.

“Remember this fact. That you are leaving behind me and everyone who followed you, abandoning all expectations.”

“I am sorry.”

“I will not say it is alright. I have too many things to handle and process to be immersed in sentimentality.”

At the law office where they met again for the transfer of the Claus Share, Robert Higgins had criticized him with a weary face. He knew it was a cowardly evasion. He was aware that he was fleeing, leaving behind those who were like family in the same muddy waters.

“I thought of you as my only family and colleague. I believed we would be together forever. My investment failed, and now I must take responsibility for that.”

“…….”

“Whether the path to finding that man was truly what you desired…… I hope you do not regret it.”

Thump, thump, thump—

MacQueen stood up at the sound of heavy knocking on the door. The wooden door opened, and a man with skin tanned dark by the sun suddenly poked his head in. His dark face was full of hesitation.

“Could you come out for a moment?”

“What is it? Is there a problem with the departure?”

“It is not that, but a woman is causing a disturbance.”

“A woman? What do you mean, a woman? What kind of disturbance?”

“We don’t know the reason either…… she is making a fuss, insisting that she must board the ship. She even made it up to the deck…… we are wasting the merchant ship’s preparation time because of her.”

“You should have just told her to leave and chased her away.”

“That is……”

The man hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“Her attire is humble, but…… she seems like a lady of a noble house, so it is difficult to treat her roughly. Above all, she is looking for the boss……”

“Me?”

It was incomprehensible. Nothing came to mind.

“I will go with you.”

MacQueen left the room, pressing his forehead which was throbbing with a headache. He could not tolerate a delay of even a few minutes or seconds.

When he stepped onto the deck, one side was noisy, just as reported. A group of sailors was surrounding someone, but it felt less like a threatening atmosphere and more like they were at a loss for what to do.

“What is happening?”

As the owner of the ship appeared, the commotion ceased instantly. A woman appeared from among the sailors. She was a stranger. In that moment, the woman’s face lit up upon discovering MacQueen.

“Lord Lester!”

MacQueen narrowed his eyes further, trying to recall the woman’s identity. The woman was not wearing an outing dress, but rather casual activity wear that a man might wear. Her attire was simple, but based on her confident yet elegant aura, she was clearly a daughter of a noble house, just as reported.

‘Surely, somewhere……’

Unable to endure even the time it took to search his memories, the woman slipped through the sailors and approached MacQueen in a single breath.

“Please forgive my rudeness. I am Lariensa Filmore of Newcastle.”

“……Ah.”

Only then did MacQueen examine the woman carefully.

The daughter of the Duke of Newcastle. Aaron Wizfeldon’s only fiancée. The eyes examining Lariensa Filmore gleamed gloomily. He had never seen them together in a public setting, but it was not difficult to guess that the two would have been a well-matched pair. A jealousy that knew no shame struck back.

‘How ridiculous. Even in this situation.’

Barely suppressing his emotions, MacQueen took a step back and bowed. Fluctuating emotions were not a good sign.

“……What brings such a noble person all the way here? If by any chance you accompanied Sir Caliven Wisfield……”

“I wish to go with Lord Lester.”

Together. It was a blunt statement, but the meaning was clear. The woman was saying she wanted to accompany him on the journey to settle the final affairs of her lover.

A murderous intent flickered in his eyes as he looked somewhere on the deck. He had already realized, by losing the most important existence, that he could not have everything he desired.

He knew.

The fact understood by the head and the heart accepted by the chest were different. MacQueen Lester, who had erased the traces of his path as Baronet Enfield, was merely a filthy hound. Left only with longing and greed for his lover, he did not know how to share even rotten bait with others.

“I do not understand what you mean……”

“I mean that I wish to join this voyage.”

“Lady Lariensa, ……I understand that you feel grief and despondency over what happened to Earl Vispilt, your betrothed, but……”

At the word ‘betrothed’ uttered from his own mouth, his sculpted face crumpled instantly. A cruel competitiveness boiled over. His palms grew sweaty. A poisonous jealousy was rapidly invading his reason.

“Please clear the people away.”

“There is no time for this. We must depart as quickly as possible.”

“I beg you, Baronet. Please clear the people. This is a matter I have already discussed sufficiently with Sir Caliven Wisfield.”

The woman’s expression as she requested again was confident, and her voice was clear. Her gaze was that of someone driven by a firm will. MacQueen hesitated for a moment, then sighed and dismissed the sailors. The scattered men returned to their positions to continue the departure preparations.

“Forgive my rudeness. I beg you. I must accompany this journey.”

“I am not unaware of your painful heart, but a voyage is not something that can be done based on simple sadness or feelings of mourning. Furthermore, it is impossible for the fragile body of a woman.”

“Is it not truly foolish to think that the reason it is impossible is merely because I am a fragile woman? What difference is there between a man and a woman in the grief of losing a loved one? If my being a woman hinders the voyage and search schedule, I will gladly leave.”

“…….”

“I must find my lover.”

The response, disguised as composure, stopped. In a short span of just a few seconds, countless emotions crossed.

Lover. Loved one.

It was hard to bear the words the woman spoke. A shock more violent than the words ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’ struck like a bolt of lightning.

“I also wish to find that person. I will not be a hindrance. I have prepared sufficiently. Surely the Baronet knows the status of the Newcastle family. It was not easy for me to come here either. I cannot go back.”

Eyes filled with despair looked directly at MacQueen. They were eyes that almost seemed pure and sincere.

“I beg you. I must find my lover.”

Sorrowful eyes. Lover……

The speed at which he whispered in his mind grew faster. Black, hard insects poured over his entire body, burrowing beneath the skin. MacQueen stared at the pink lips pouring out sweet and mournful words. The woman whispered that she had to find her lover. The two were lovers. They were in love.

He loves her.

Unlike you, she is a faithful and modest woman.

She is a truthful woman who does not deceive me.

Could he not help but love her?

The man standing before him whispered. My beautiful lover, who is still cold and still dry.

Was it not an illusion? Was it not a hallucination? Yes, that man was a real person.

Green eyes stained with jealousy lost their composure and shook violently.

Did you abandon Theodore?

Are you determined to kill that wretched servant who remained in your heart?

Was the wait too long?

Did the limit come for waiting for me alone there?

Are you tired of the deception?

Did you become pathetic in the face of my hypocrisy?

Is that why you gave your heart to that woman? Did you give her your body? Did you feel love for someone other than me? Was the marriage between the two of you sincere?

“I……”

MacQueen shook his head violently, barely driving away the wicked jealousy that was forcing its way in. The lover who had been criticizing and mocking him until a moment ago had vanished without a trace. He must not be swayed by hallucinations. He must not let his mind crumble any further. He had to find him as quickly as possible. Barely holding onto his collapsing heart, MacQueen stammered clumsily.

“No, that is not it. That is not…… Very well, I understand. I recognize your affection for Earl Vispilt, but……”

“No.”

Lariensa cut him off with a resolute expression. Her face was clouded with gloom. The words that followed were beyond anyone’s imagination.

“My lover is not Count Vispilt.”

“……What do you mean by that?”

“He is a pitiful English soldier who went missing along with him. A man whose name no one even mentions, whose very existence is unknown.”

Stunned by the unexpected revelation, MacQuan widened his eyes, trying to gauge the truth of her words. The woman who had dropped the bombshell, however, stared back at MacQuan with an even firmer expression.

“Are you saying you have a separate lover aside from Count Vispilt?”

“Do not call him a lover!”

Her sharp reply snapped back.

“He is the only person I love.”

Her large, bright eyes quickly welled up with moisture.

“I will not go into the deeper details. Likewise, I will not ask why Sir Lester is taking the lead in this voyage. I have shared everything with Sir Caliven, so let him handle that. However, there is one thing I wish to tell you: my lover and I accepted a proposal made by Count Vispilt, and we paid a terrible price for the sin of trying to love in peace, hiding behind him.”

“What do you mean by a proposal?”

“Sir Caliven Wizfeldon must have informed the Baronet of the location where Count Vispilt intended to contact the stowaway operators in advance. I already knew of that destination before the Count joined the war. Let that serve as my answer.”

With a look that suggested even the time to be shocked was a waste, Lariensa added quickly.

“A significant portion of the gold ingots that Sir Caliven Wizfeldon delivered to the Baronet to be used as funds was provided by me. I have the right to accompany this voyage.”

“That is absurd. If the Duke of Newcastle were to find out……”

“Do you think I wouldn’t have taken care of that much? I have settled all necessary situations before coming. Of course, it is not perfect, so my time is limited. One year—that is how long I can hold out.”

Tears finally escaped from behind her mask of strength. Her long hair, which she would have meticulously brushed and managed every day, had long since been ruined by the fierce sea winds. Her quiet sobbing was a scream that only those who had lost a loved one could utter. Watching the woman weep without making a sound, MacQuan’s dry lips twitched.

“I empathize with your feelings, but…… it is difficult. If you wait, we will surely find the lady’s lover as well.”

“Do not give me empty words. How could the Baronet possibly find him without even knowing what his face looks like?”

“Please consider the reality. I hope you return soon.”

“The vanguards who started this filthy and petty war were Sir Lester and the Duke of Devonshire. My lover was forced to participate in this dirty war you all orchestrated.”

“…….”

“So, take responsibility.”

The fierce accusation and the blackened guilt burrowed into a conscience that had been slaughtered long ago. Every past action, every word, every intention converged to create a horrific result.

MacQuan remained frozen, facing the accusation directed at him. This was likely the word and the reality he would hear for a long time—perhaps until the moment of his death.

“You must take responsibility until the end. Please accompany me, Baronet. I must find him, even if it is only his corpse.”

Words once spoken to someone eventually return.

“I will find him, even if it is only his corpse.”

MacQuan recalled how he felt when he had uttered those words to Caliven Wizfeldon. That agonizing heart, which could not be expressed in any words.

Everyone aboard this ship knew that finding a corpse in the vast, foreign ocean was impossible. They simply didn’t show it. They didn’t put it into words. Because they knew that the moment they acknowledged the reality in any form, the last remnants of their sanity would collapse.

A period of silence passed. Rough breathing, distant sobbing, an unbearable truth. Only after crossing through that process did MacQuan slowly nod his head.

It was the beginning of a voyage with an uncomfortable companion.

✧ ✧ ✧

Aaron remained unconscious for quite some time. Within a hazy mind that repeatedly collapsed and rebuilt itself, he finally opened his eyes fully and realized that a considerable amount of time had passed.

“My god……”

Aaron’s lips moved, though no sound came out, toward Philip, who was rushing to him with a startled expression. Looking at the man’s wretched appearance, Aaron expected that he himself probably wasn’t much different.

“…….”

Turning his gaze, he saw a wooden ceiling that looked as if it would collapse at any moment. The musty smell and humid air, and the scent of opium mixed within, were also familiar.

“Lord……”

Overcome with emotion, the man grabbed Aaron’s skeletal hand and wailed. The sight of him sobbing so hard that his shoulders shook was so ridiculous that Aaron quietly clicked his tongue.

“The smell is foul, isn’t it? I am sorry…… Every time you regained consciousness, the Earl was in such agony that I had no choice…… Proper treatment was difficult… they said this, this opium acts as a painkiller… so I went to great lengths to obtain it…… I had nothing, so I had to trade the token the lady gave me… but still……”

At the withered, cold gaze, Philip Hughes sobbed even louder.

Aaron wanted to tell him to shut up because he was being noisy, but soon even that became a chore, and he closed his eyes again. The death that had devastated his life for a lifetime slowly seeped inside through his respiratory system. It was a brief comfort.

From afar, the sound of splashing water could be heard. His eyelids slowly opened.

Had he fallen asleep again?

Scanning his surroundings, he saw a back hunched over in the corner, doing something. Even without asking, it was clearly a useless endeavor. Aaron clicked his tongue softly and tried to put a little strength into his fingertips. Sensation had returned more than before. He felt strength gradually returning to his legs, which had been motionless, all the way down to his toes.

“Are you awake?”

Sensing his presence immediately, the man dropped what he was doing and rushed over. Aaron frowned deeply at the unnecessary kindness and waved him away.

“Don’t come close.”

Despite having spent a considerable amount of time together, his wariness was immense.

“Is it still difficult for you to move?”

“This is my burden to bear, so stop. I am not in a state where I need your nursing.”

Philip glanced at him cautiously. The face of the young Earl, awakened from a long sleep, was clearly sickly, but an unmistakable nobility seeped through. He carefully leaned in.

“I apologize for placing you in such a humble place. This was the best we could do. There were almost no people in a decent state. It’s not that the atmosphere is hostile toward us, but basic communication is impossible, so…… still, there was an uninhabited house a bit away from the village. It was even worse at first.”

Regardless of the intimidated reaction, Aaron slowly pushed himself up. Even the simple act of leaning against the wall brought out a groan of pain. Aaron panted for a while in agony before lifting his head again.

“How much time has passed?”

“I’m not exactly sure since we left the ship. Only that the year has changed……”

Aaron let out a light sigh. It was hard to even gauge how much time had been swallowed and swept away by the currents. He had to admit it now.

“A complete failure.”

Philip affirmed the short reflection with silence. Too much time had already passed, and he held no cards worth offering for a trade.

“Where is this?”

“I’m not sure either. The residents tried to explain something, but I couldn’t understand the language well, so it was difficult to grasp.”

“Ha—”

It was the worst-case scenario. Aaron groaned again. It was because the forgotten pain had rushed back. Whether his pain threshold had lowered or his physical strength had reached its limit, even a small pain now felt immense. As the pain surged rapidly in a short time, cold sweat broke out all over his body.

“Opium……”

After panting for a while, Aaron gestured toward Philip again. His blue eyes, having lost their reason, shone turbidly.

“Yes?”

“Give me the opium.”

“Earl, the opium is……”

Despite the desperate request, the tactless soldier could not move readily. Philip looked back and forth between the opium and Aaron with a troubled face, then hesitantly approached and sat down.

“Earl, why don’t you try to endure it a little longer? I lit the opium last night as well…… it is better not to do it.”

“Just a little. A little is enough. It’s hard to bear right now……”

“Earl, opium only serves as a temporary painkiller.”

“A moment is enough.”

Seeing him barely swallowing his groans, Philip finally lit the end of the pipe containing the opium leaves. As a faint smoke rose with a small friction sound, Aaron snatched the opium from Philip with trembling hands and inhaled deeply.

“Slowly, slowly.”

“Phew……”

As his sharp eyes relaxed, cloudy smoke continuously flowed out. It took a considerable amount of time for the pain to subside. When the rough breathing calmed down slightly, Philip carefully checked Aaron’s condition.

“Are you alright?”

“……Yes.”

Aaron replied slowly, dripping with cold sweat. His fine platinum blonde hair was scattered messily over his pale, ghostly face. Only when the drug took effect did he slowly open his eyes. Seeing the man watching him with such tension, Aaron chuckled. The way he trembled reminded him of someone.

“Stop overreacting. I am used to opium.”

“Still……”

“My condition is already at rock bottom, so smoking it once or twice more won’t make things any worse.”

“……I understand.”

Aaron felt as if he were floating on the sea. All his senses were dull, and his left leg would not move properly. Because he had barely received emergency treatment for several months, it was a miracle that it was still attached. Perhaps it was because it had already rotted away. The bandages wrapped around his arm were new. Tsk. The sound of a low click of the tongue broke the awkward silence.

“On the ship, and here as well…… your survival skills are quite good.”

“Pardon?”

“Where did you get the medicine?”

He recalled the scene he saw before losing consciousness. In a situation where there were only Chinese people immersed in opium, it was impossible to obtain proper medicinal drugs. Reading the doubt mixed in the question, Philip stepped forward hesitantly.

“I…… traded items I had.”

“Didn’t you use all your jewelry for the ship’s fare?”

“There was one token left.”

Token. His cheeks hollowed as he took another deep drag of the opium.

“Token?”

“It is an item the lady gave me.”

“The token Lady Lariensa gave? It should be a jewel of the Newcastle family.”

“……Yes.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

A rough laugh scraped his throat. It wasn’t hard to guess what that spirited woman would have given her lover. If it was a Newcastle family token, its value was impossible to convert into money. The foolishness and stupidity of trading such a jewel for mere opium was laughable. In the end, that choice was no different from a decision to die here together.

Aaron inhaled the opium deeply once more. Death clung to every particle, penetrating his diseased body.

“They weren’t villagers…… there was a merchant ship anchored at the port for a while. Proper medicine was hard to find. I wanted the medicine, but perhaps they misunderstood my words and gave me opium… actually, it wasn’t words, but mostly gestures and foot-signals.”

“…….”

“Anyway, the bandages and simple medicine were mixed in with the luggage I received. I thought about throwing the opium away… but the Earl suffered so severely every night that I had no choice but to light it for the pain relief.”

“Whatever the reason, the items traded are pitiful compared to the value of the token.”

“……No. Anyone in that situation would have traded it without hesitation.”

Aaron met the man’s eyes again. Philip instinctively avoided his gaze, which seemed to pierce right through him. Seeing him flustered, Aaron tilted his head to the side.

“Why go that far?”

“Pardon?”

“That token would have had enough value to leave for somewhere else. No, even that wouldn’t be enough. Wasn’t it the symbol of the Newcastle family? I cannot understand throwing away such an opportunity.”

The question in his eyes was incredibly pure. The nobleman before him was not trying to test him or suspect him; he was genuinely questioning the act of another person caring and sacrificing for someone else. While Philip was hesitating, not knowing how to answer, an unexpected question followed.

“Did Lady Lariensa love that side of you?”

“Pardon? What side……”

“Your foolish side.”

“…….”

“The way you uselessly invest in vain acts that bring no profit and produce no results.”

“Your words are too……”

It was hard to tell if it was an insult or a criticism. Philip Hughes raised his head to retort, feeling a surge of emotion. However, despite those feelings, he ultimately couldn’t utter a single word. It was because the gaze looking at him seemed utterly exhausted.

Suddenly, a slightly funny hypothesis crossed Philip’s mind. Perhaps what that person wanted to say was……

“Do you perhaps want to say thank you?”

As if he had heard something repulsive, Aaron immediately frowned and took another drag of the opium. For some reason, he felt he understood the man, but Philip chose silence.

“I’m bored, so tell me your story.”

“My story?”

The cloudy smoke drew a long path. Aaron whispered lowly in a thoroughly languid voice.

“About those foolish emotions.”

“Ah……”

Seeing the bewildered Philip, Aaron smiled mischievously. The way he laughed, his body shaking, showed no sign of his stubbornness breaking.

Philip sighed lightly and brought over the item he had been working on until a moment ago. Aaron’s eyes moved slowly, following the movement. Feeling the piercing gaze, Philip scratched his head with an awkward smile.

“Ah, you don’t need to worry about this. It’s a fragrant leaf; if you dry it well, tie it, and sleep on it, the headache improves a lot. I learned it while spending a lot of time outdoors……”

Sitting down in a suitable spot, Philip diligently moved his hands again. Contrary to the expectation that the other would voice some complaint, there was no reaction. Assuming the other was simply very curious about his boring story, Philip brought out a piece of an old memory.

“I have been with Lady Lariensa since childhood. Actually, saying ‘together’ is a stretch. I was not in a position to dare mingle with her. It was just that my mother and the Duchess of Newcastle were close, so I was lucky enough to have some interaction.”

The voice tracing the memories became a bit more comfortable and soft.

“It was natural. There was no special occasion, but just naturally…… the lady seemed strong on the outside, but her heart was weak and she felt very lonely. She is a very kind person. Whenever she hid in the garden, it was always my job to find her. Out of all the servants, she liked it most when I was the one to find her.”

With skilled hands, Philip tied the half-organized dried leaves into bundles, weaving the bundles together and knotting them. Pale blue eyes were fixed on the humble piece of work he was creating.

“There was no grand occasion. In those gaps, I simply…… gratefully, borrowed a piece of the lady’s heart.”

After connecting the strings a few more times, the dried grass began to take a proper shape. It might be finished by evening. He didn’t know how effective it would be for the young Earl, but blindly smoking opium wasn’t the solution.

“Was it a passionate heart?”

The questioning voice was cold. After a moment’s thought, Philip nodded.

“It was a heart that seeped in naturally, but after I realized it…… yes, it was. They were conflicting emotions. I loved the lady even though I knew it was something I should not do.”

It was a heart that he had not dared to show even a shadow of to anyone. The reason he poured out such feelings and memories so easily to a stranger was that Philip also sensed the end to some extent. It was a thought that this nameless island might become the place where the end of two people is buried.

“If you call it passionate, then I suppose it was. No, it is passionate. That is why I chose to give up all the career I built as a soldier and live as a shadow for the rest of my life.”

At the self-deprecating words, a sneer erupted from the opposite side.

“Have you never considered that the emotion you feel is merely an afterimage of the time you experienced?”

At the cold rebuke, the hands tying the dried grass stopped.

“I am saying that it is something that ended long ago, and you have come all this way by clinging uglily only to the memory.”

“Earl, your words are too……”

Angry at the words that trampled upon his long-held sincerity, Philip snapped his head up. However, his attempt to argue that he was not such a person, that his heart was desperate and faithful, ended in failure upon seeing an unexpected sight.

“In truth, it is a story that ended a very long time ago. Even though it rotted because it couldn’t endure the passage of time, did you foolishly believe you could return to that moment, unable to smell the stench? How naive.”

“……Earl.”

“That is how I feel.”

“…….”

“I do not know how you feel.”

Contrary to his aggressive tone, his pale face was devoid of expression, and his blue eyes were drenched with moisture. The man tilted his head to the side, his expression suggesting he wasn’t even aware that he was crying.

“…….”

Feeling as though he had seen something he shouldn’t have, Philip hurriedly lowered his head. A heavy silence flowed between them.

“Clear away that trashy weed.”

After a long while, Aaron muttered brusquely in a deeply sunken voice. Then, with trembling hands, he took another hit of opium. As he inhaled deeply, his gaunt cheeks hollowed. Following that minute movement, transparent tears flowed once more.

“Because I don’t like it.”

His sunken eyes twitched for a moment, but soon vanished behind the veil of smoke.

“I absolutely hate it.”

With that cold sentiment, Aaron fell completely silent. Perhaps the analgesic effect was finally kicking in, as his body grew limp and his mind sank heavily. Blinking his wet eyes a few more times, he gazed toward the edge of the forest beyond the lungs. A man with red hair, as if the sun had melted into it, was standing there. Whether the scene before him was reality or an illusion did not matter.

“Master.”

He was a dog who ran toward him, shedding all wariness only for his sake. In a dilapidated shack, he always prepared tasteless stew and hard bread and waited for him.

“Master.”

“I love you.”

“Aaron, I love you.”

Before he knew it, the red dog had vanished, and the death-merchant of opium in a sharp suit whispered words of love. In a manner so nauseating, nauseating, nauseating, and nauseating that it was almost lovely.

“Aaron, my Aaron. I love you.”

At the confession where lies and truth were intertwined, Aaron finally let out a hollow laugh and covered his eyes. His palm was instantly dampened by moisture.

It was a faded and rotten memory, a rotten emotion.

There could be no one who would dare attach the word ‘love’ to such an emotion and discuss it.

✧ ✧ ✧

With an incomparable disparity in power, the tide of the naval battles tilted completely as the years passed. Following repeated victories, England opened formal negotiations with the representatives of the Daecheong Imperial Court. Whenever unilateral demands were not properly accepted, the army advanced toward the Daecheong fortresses. The Daecheong side’s refusal to cede Hong Kong pulled the trigger of conflict.

“It is not this island. The contact the Earl dealt with is said to have left for Guangdong about a month ago after waiting for a while without any word. They say it is difficult to return the transaction funds.”

“I have no need for the funds. Ask if any other foreigners have visited.”

“Understood.”

At the repeated request, the man attempted to speak with the locals again. While waiting for the answer, MacQuan suppressed his restlessness. It did not take long. The man, having heard the final answer, turned back with a dark expression and shook his head.

“He says there were no outsiders who requested a transaction at all.”

At the notification that crushed his hopes, MacQuan lowered his head slightly. It was nothing new. Several months had already passed since Dinghai Port. In that time, there had been three relocations, and three hopes had fallen. In the face of time flowing helplessly, there was not much a human could do. He struggled to hide his breath, which could not even properly reach his lungs.

“A flagship that Sir Herriot boarded a few months ago did anchor briefly, but no one disembarked; they only requested and received supplies before leaving. The few people who did get off were all part of the flagship’s entourage.”

“Have you contacted the missionaries?”

“Yes. We have sent people to all of them first.”

“I see. Ensure that not a single person is missed. I will also double-check each one. Request it again from the national officials staying at customs.”

“Understood. A few employees of the Firstric Company remained here. Connections will be easier.”

“How about searching the surrounding area a bit more?”

The woman who had received the report alongside him stepped forward. Seeing Lariensa, who was calmer than expected, MacQuan nodded faintly.

“Very well. Shall we go outside?”

Several months had passed since the naval battles between the two nations began. Reflecting the prolonged tension of war, the atmosphere of the village was quite bleak. Even if the army had not advanced onto the land, it was hard to view the current air as normal daily life.

“……It’s horrific.”

Lariensa, who had been observing the surroundings while walking silently, muttered coldly. Knowing the meaning behind those words, MacQuan chose silence.

After a few more steps, she came to a complete halt. MacQuan, following behind, stopped as well. The scenery was just as disastrous as the woman had said.

“It is truly horrific.”

Opium dens overflowed wherever her gaze landed, and the roadsides were filled with people who, at a glance, could hardly be called sane. Most of the residents were slumped listlessly, as if they were beings without even a shred of reason, let alone productive work. Their glazed eyes were all devoid of focus.

The people of this distant foreign land did not fear the strange intruders. They neither spoke nor moved, merely clutching long pipes from which smoke drifted. Lariensa knew the reason.

Opium.

“Far from caring for an injured outsider, they seem to be in a state where they cannot even look after their own well-being.”

“…….”

The residents, sprawled helplessly in a drug-induced stupor, did not look like anyone could properly flee even if cannonballs fell right now. Even outside the opium dens, people lay wherever there was space to lie down, smoking opium through long tubes.

“Who made them like this?”

“……Lady.”

“Baronet, I believe everyone who handed the devil’s flower to people and started this war will go to hell.”

“Let us head over there.”

Regret and reflection were luxuries.

MacQuan relayed the request to the interpreter, pretending it was no big deal. While the interpreter spoke with a resident, he peered through an open door to see if anyone might be inside.

“Well?”

“Nothing. They say there is no record of any outsiders entering.”

“I see.”

It took only a few minutes for the slight hope to turn into despair. For months now, this fruitless work had been repeated endlessly. Searching every building in sight, he felt increasingly crushed by reality amidst the same identical answers.

“There are only two port cities left.”

Chewing over Lariensa’s words, MacQuan recalled the time that had passed. He had no proper memories of the time that had flown by in a blur. Everything was faint. It was a time of being swept away by a storm and repeatedly climbing back up.

“We are getting further and further away from where we first arrived. I wonder if the two of them could have even made it this far.”

The voice speaking to herself trembled slightly. Affirming with silence, MacQuan surveyed the distant coastline with sunken eyes. It was a peaceful sea, sparkling as it embraced the sun.

“It would be an impossible distance if they didn’t travel by boat.”

“Yes. They would have died long ago if they had tried to swim.”

“…….”

“I can’t even gauge how far it is from where they first fell into the sea.”

There were five locations in total that Aaron Wizfeldon had chosen as rendezvous points for the stowaway, starting with Dinghai Port. All were areas where intermediate stops were planned or where battles were expected.

Every time he confirmed that the final settlement for the transactions at the three previously searched locations was Baden-Baden, his heart broke and shattered repeatedly. Perhaps the lover had planned to slip onto land with the daughter of Newcastle’s beloved during the chaos and escape to Baden-Baden. At least there must have been a will to survive.

“Is there a possibility of finding them in the remaining two places?”

The two people had gone missing in the waters around Dinghai Port, the first scheduled rendezvous point. In terms of travel distance alone, it was nearly impossible, but no one dared to voice that assumption.

“In the current situation, it is difficult to give any certainty. I am sorry.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I know.”

At the calm apology, Lariensa turned her body. She did not hastily vent the anger swirling deep within her chest. Despite his perfectly polite demeanor, the man’s eyes were like a rotting corpse.

“I have also informed the missionaries settled in the village. I’ve identified the list of merchants who periodically visit the island. Let us stay for a few days and verify. I have paid the officials generously, so if they find out even a little, they will notify us immediately. Furthermore, I plan to meet the local officials one by one.”

“Do you really think the Daecheong people will contact us properly? You speak with such naive optimism, Baronet. If it were me, I would take the money first and then kill them. You are truly positive.”

“……Negative thoughts only torment our own hearts.”

“Am I the strange one?”

“That is not what I meant. I understand what you mean. I haven’t paid the full amount; I’ve agreed to pay differential fees based on the importance of the information if it proves valid, so the thing you fear will not happen.”

Lariensa struggled to hold back her tears and pulled her hat down deep. She thought it was a relief that her attire was a ridiculous mix, neither woman nor man.

“……I am sorry, Baronet. My heart is in pain, so I keep taking it out on you. Even though I know it is not your fault alone, I needed someone to blame.”

“……It is alright.”

“What if they aren’t in the remaining places either? What if the officials or merchants of this country just take the money and keep their mouths shut? It doesn’t make sense for them to help us in the first place. There’s no way they’d be friendly toward us. Aren’t they people of a country that ruined their homeland and their people’s lives?”

Hair that had escaped through the loose gap of her hat became disheveled in the wind.

“If it were me, I think I would want to kill them.”

“…….”

“I think I would truly want to tear them to pieces and kill them.”

Facing the resentful eyes looking straight at him, MacQuan cast his gaze obliquely downward. The hair falling over his forehead hid his anguish.

“We have no choice but to believe. For we have nothing left but desperation.”

MacQuan sneered at the absurdity of his own logic. His completely broken heart no longer felt even guilt.

“Could they have been killed already? Is there really no such possibility? Could the residents here have killed the Earl and Philip, who came to the island to avoid the English army? Could they have killed them and buried them somewhere? Aren’t they enemies of the state? They are the ones who ruined their homeland. They would naturally think it’s okay to kill them. If it were me, I would have killed them. If so, wouldn’t it be faster to find where the bodies are buried?”

“…….”

“If they fell into the water, finding them is impossible, but if they killed my love and buried them in the ground, at least I could obtain their bones.”

“Lady Lariensa, please calm down. Nothing has been definitively revealed yet.”

Lariensa stopped her rambling and buried her face in both hands. The anxiety she had kept buried was on the verge of overflowing.

Every time hope converged toward zero, her heart split into thousands of pieces. Though her head knew there was no possibility that her lover was alive, her heart could not accept it.

Contrary to her words about finding a body, she had no real intention of doing so. It was merely stubbornness and desperation. She couldn’t find him, but she wanted to believe—and still believed—that he was alive, even if the probability was low.

“All sorts of thoughts are drifting. What if I can’t even find a trace?”

“…….”

“He was a person who was always lonely because of me…… I don’t want to leave him lonely even in death.”

“……Fortunately, the island is small, so it won’t take much time to search this area. If there are no results, we will have to leave for the remaining two rendezvous points…… and if they aren’t there either……”

A few yards away, he saw his lover. His lover’s hair, fluttering in the sea breeze, was as bright as if it would melt away into the sun. The skin, so white that the veins were visible, was still endearing. The lips that spoke while looking straight at him flickered. The voice was too soft to understand what was being said. Perhaps it was a request to go together to where she was as soon as possible.

‘Please wait for me.’

Unable to take his eyes off the lovely sight, MacQuan continued speaking without emotion.

“We can simply go inland. Since all directions are dangerous, there is a possibility they went deeper for safety. As of now, the possibility of them crossing to another country is nonexistent. Searching the Daecheong continent is the most realistic option.”

“This vast stretch of land?”

“If one spends a lifetime wandering, wouldn’t they eventually set foot everywhere?”

“Who on earth would do such a pathetic thing?”

MacQuan shrugged with a relaxed smile.

“I shall do it. That is why I came.”

When I reach the opposite ends of the world and can no longer see even your illusions.

Then.

Then, I can simply die.

Looking into the lovely eyes of his lover that curved softly upon meeting his gaze, MacQuan calmly swallowed his breath. There was no need to tell that pitiful woman the whole truth.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Earl!”

Breaking the silence, the old door swung open. Aaron frowned deeply at the pouring sunlight and the sudden noise, turning his head toward the sound. It was Philip Hughes.

“How noisy.”

“I have good news! Please listen to me.”

Aaron let out a short laugh at the sight of him still refusing to give up hope. A heavy headache shook his head, but he didn’t let it show.

“Look here. Look at this, Earl.”

Philip continued speaking, unbothered by the cold reaction. At the joy-filled voice, Aaron finally lowered his gaze. Inside the small basket the man held, there were indeed many things.

“……What did you bring?”

“Fresh fruit and medicine. Proper medicine. Look at this. I don’t know how long it’s been.”

As the man said, it was proper medication he hadn’t seen in months.

“You don’t have to endure it by smoking opium anymore. Look here.”

Philip forced the medicine bottle into Aaron’s hand, but the skeletal hand could not even graze the surface.

“I-I am sorry. I was just so happy……”

“……Forget it.”

The voice clicking its tongue lowly lacked much strength.

“More importantly, where did you get these? You didn’t break into some empty house and steal them, did you?”

Aaron asked back, scanning the medicine bottle rolling on the floor with darkened eyes.

“Of course not! It’s a bit far, but I found a place where French missionaries are staying. About three of them are residing there. They also seemed to have arrived on the island not long ago. Thanks to that, I found out which region this is. It’s a completely different area from the original plan…… but it’s an island far south of Dinghai Port. It seems we’ve drifted quite far. It’s a village completely unrelated to the stowaway rendezvous points. Haha.”

“I take it you can speak French?”

“I’m not fluent, but I can speak a little.”

“Unexpected……”

Drowsiness washed over him again. Yawning softly, Aaron blinked slowly. The time he spent conscious during the day was not very long. Even that was decreasing as the days passed; the time he spent asleep grew longer, and the time he was conscious grew shorter.

“Earl, I will lift the blanket for a moment. Let’s apply the medicine first. Your leg is not in good condition.”

“…….”

A silence of permission followed.

“It must have been very hard for you. Please endure it just a little more, even if it hurts.”

Philip knelt down and began to carefully unwind the bandages wrapped around the leg. The gentle face beneath the curly hair distorted moment by moment as Aaron’s wound was revealed. As the blood-stained bandages were removed, a corresponding terrible groan escaped.

“Stop.”

Cold sweat poured over a face that had instantly turned pale. The wound, which had not been properly treated for months, repeated a cycle of healing and then festering again.

“The opium……”

“No. Earl, we have medicine now. Please endure it just a little longer.”

“Ugh.”

“Just a little more. I’ve unwrapped it all.”

For the first time, Aaron checked his leg exposed under the sun. It was in a horrific state. His gaunt leg, unable to bear the pain, trembled violently.

“It would be better to just cut it off……”

Laughing lowly, Aaron grit his teeth.

“You’re talking nonsense. If it were serious enough to require amputation, I would have done it already. I’m no doctor, but I can make that much of a judgment. I heard the missionaries are visiting us tomorrow. I expect we’ll get a lot of help from them, including for the Earl’s treatment. Please, try to hang in there a bit longer.”

Though he occasionally showed a fragile side, Philip Hughes was a soldier who had seen many battlefields. The reason Aaron’s injuries had not taken a turn for the worst, even in a situation where proper medicine was hard to come by, was thanks to this man. For a while, Aaron gazed silently at the soldier he had previously regarded as insignificant.

“You are foolish, but…”

“That again, are you?”

Wondering if he was about to be lectured again, Philip paused his application of the ointment and looked up. Despite the cold sweat pouring down his face, the man was staring intently at him with eyes that made his inner thoughts difficult to read.

“You are a good person.”

“Pardon?”

“Whether most people are like you…”

The pale man tilted his head slightly and gave a faint smile.

“Or if it was simply that I and those around me were in a rotten mire.”

“….”

Unable to find an answer, Philip lowered his head again. Cornwall’s heir was in a state where it wouldn’t be strange if he died tomorrow, yet he possessed an imposing presence that made him difficult to treat lightly. After a long silence, a heavily cracked voice flowed out again.

“There was someone like you.”

Clouded by pain, his hazy light-blue eyes shifted back and forth.

“Like me, sir?”

Since it wasn’t a question seeking a specific reaction, Philip answered vaguely and silently continued the treatment. Whenever the young Earl burned opium or found it difficult to stay conscious due to pain, he often talked to himself.

“One was close to me… as good as he was weak. He lived crushed by useless guilt. His entire life.”

Aaron recalled a younger brother who had followed him around since a childhood he could barely remember.

“Ugh…”

As the medicine was applied again to the disinfected area, a groan of unbearable pain escaped from the head of the bed.

Ha, ha. A laugh filled with pain burst forth. Perhaps because he had lost his strength, even that didn’t last long. Bony fingers scratched at the floor, but neither movement nor sensation could be properly felt. A hollow laugh continued to leak out. He would never again be able to carve and polish that massive, wondrous raw gemstone to express the longing in his heart.

Sin is always punished eventually.

Whenever, and in whatever form.

“The other was not like that…”

Another fading memory surfaced.

“He was dreadfully lacking in intellect and expressed his emotions recklessly…”

A foolish dog who had lost his memory had nothing to fear. Forget efficiency; there was no logic whatsoever. He meddled in useless matters and interfered with and empathized with the emotions of others pointlessly. No matter how many walls were built, he tore them down effortlessly, and even if ashes were strewn and stones were thrown, he would be there by his side, nonchalantly, whenever he looked back.

“…I had no immunity to such things.”

The dog did not think deeply, nor did he calculate meticulously. He simply put instinct first, vomiting and expressing raw emotions. While Aaron found such behavior pathetic, he also found it fascinating. By the time he came to his senses, he had fallen in with a terrifying intensity, and it was already too late. Aaron had loved the brutal loyalty of the dog in the shack and the narrow world where only he remained.

In that isolated forest, there were no hindrances. Having never experienced such times or kept such a person by his side, he failed to realize that he had let someone in to a dangerous degree. It was his greatest mistake.

The meaningless conversation stopped after a while. As his breathing gradually slowed, the treatment ended, and a thin cloth was applied.

“…You must not return to England.”

Aaron whispered softly with his eyes closed. Philip, who was pouring out the water used to clean the wound, paused.

“If you return now with the help of the missionaries, you won’t be able to block the channels through which news reaches England. Can you not predict what happens next? The Newcastle Duke will certainly kill you.”

“…That is.”

Sigh. With a low breath, the pain-soaked eyes narrowed. He saw the man standing there with a bewildered expression. No more laughter escaped him at the sight. He was a foolish man. A man who could not discard unnecessary affection and had brought a human who was nothing but a burden all the way here.

For the first time, Aaron hoped that this man would not die. To achieve that, it was better if his own life clung on just a little longer.

“You must go to another country without going through the diplomatic mission, no matter what excuse you make… When the missionary comes tomorrow…”

Drowsiness washed over him. In a haze where even the pain vanished, a loud ringing echoed in his ears. Only after conveying a few instructions to Philip Hughes with the last of his strength did Aaron fall completely into sleep.

✧ ✧ ✧

Even as the tide of war tilted unilaterally, the agreements between the two nations remained in a deadlock. The English royal family and Parliament repeatedly changed the officials who failed to produce satisfactory negotiation results, striving to enforce their demands. Despite the incomparable difference in military power, Daecheong’s defense did not cease. It was a war of attrition. Countless soldiers lost their lives before modern artillery shells, and torn flesh and blood floated in the sea.

As the largest opium market ceased trading for nearly a year and a half, the clock stopped for the Gareway commercial district and Klaus Diugen, who were called the conduits of England’s black money. There were movements to seek sales channels through smaller nations, but resistance continued from countries that did not wish to see the pollen of destruction scattered on their own soil.

The longer the war dragged on, the weaker the justification became, and public opinion both domestically and abroad soured. As time passed, regardless of whether they were winning, England reached a stalemate in both politics and economy. The activities of Gordon Baillyn, who actively publicized the baseless hypocrisy, played a significant role in forming this atmosphere.

“President.”

At the sound of someone approaching, Robert stopped reading the letter. He turned toward the door.

“Aljef.”

“Have you been here since dawn?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep lately. I was out of it and didn’t even realize you had arrived.”

“…I apologize for not being of more help.”

Aljef had just come from dispersing the Gareway merchants and East India Company officials who had gathered at the main entrance of the building to protest.

“How is that your fault?”

The promise from Westminster to seek third-party trade as an alternative to the losses from trade suspended by the war was not kept. The East India Company had also been paralyzed for a long time. The arrows of blame fell squarely on Klaus Diugen, who had encouraged the investments. Meanwhile, the voices of the moderate centrists, who argued that a way forward should have been sought through negotiation rather than war, grew louder.

“What can we possibly do in this situation.”

Rubbing his darkened eyes, Robert gave a bitter smile. The sun illuminated the interior of the office. A gloomy shadow covered half of his face. The fingertips tapping his temple gradually slowed.

“I heard that Warmentum Company will file for bankruptcy within the week.”

It was the fall of the largest partner that had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Klaus Diugen. A heavy groan escaped.

“…Yes. I have been informed.”

“Our losses are great as well, as it is difficult to recover the goods and funds tied up in Warmentum.”

“….”

“Well, it’s meaningless now to argue over how much was tied up or released.”

The situation for the middle-tier trading firms that had recently focused on opium import and export by piggybacking on the East India Company was not good. To say it was the worst would be an understatement. It was all Klaus’s burden to soothe the small companies and individual merchants who were enraged by the trade stagnation that had lasted over a year.

“The funds are…”

“Money isn’t an urgent matter right now. As you know, Lester didn’t leave everything behind. Klaus’s losses are minimal. That’s the only thing to be thankful for. Rather, I worry if other firms will shake… it’s a psychological battle now. That part concerns me.”

Neither the state nor Parliament officially raised the issue of opening sales channels for the stockpiled opium. It was only natural. The royal family and Westminster ignored the moral flaws of their own actions. They maintained their dignity and instead wanted another MacQueen Lester who would overlook the flaws and take the sins upon himself. A cleaner who would plan, insist upon, and execute the dirty work on his own, ultimately bringing in massive gold ingots and taxes.

“The more I struggle to fill the gap, the larger Lester’s absence feels. I’ve never felt my own incompetence as keenly as I do these days.”

“That is not true. You are doing your best, President. Such comparisons are meaningless.”

“My best. Yes, I am doing my best.”

“President…”

“Aljef, I feel that the more I do my best, the more my soul rots.”

It had been a time of breathless busyness. He had run forward, rejoicing in the accumulating money and power. He had no time to look back, nor to judge and reflect on what he had done, but the situation was different now. Everything he had pushed forward had stalled, and they had been given too much time to think. The time spent reflecting on one’s past life and choices was akin to a deadly poison.

“The place where I stood was not the end of the filth, Aljef.”

“President…”

A laugh mixed with regret flowed quietly. The hand reaching for a Leaf-Cut Tobacco was excessively slow.

“There were places filthier and more mired. There are so many people who stink more than we do, to a degree I cannot even fathom. Until now, I simply didn’t know because my friend was holding the line at that boundary. Yes, in truth, I pushed the filthiest parts onto him and looked away myself. Vowing that I would not sink that far.”

Eyes filled with loss and emptiness narrowed. Robert recalled the memories of the past few months since the colleague he trusted most had left. Many things had happened, but all were faint.

“No one seems willing to share the sin. Instead, they are preparing to turn around and point fingers together. Isn’t it funny? After we all shared the money. They refuse to take responsibility. They’re probably trying to cut him off now that his utility is gone. Even after they tore massive taxes from us all this time. Isn’t it funny?”

A rough hand brushed over the documents. Banks, merchants, Parliament, officials—the types of documents and senders were diverse, but the content was all the same. Despite clearly having committed the sins together, everyone was blaming each other and shifting the responsibility.

It was nothing new.

The act of designating a scapegoat to hold responsible and driving them out under a pretext whenever an accident occurred was something that had been done countless times throughout history. Just like the war sparked by accusing the Daecheong side of staining England’s honor for their legitimate acts of defense and demands to protect their own citizens.

“The Duke of Devonshire has turned his back.”

The sound of a gloomy breath being swallowed echoed. Robert let out a scoffing laugh, waving a letter written in an elegant hand. It was a reply regarding cooperation in enacting emergency support laws related to the crisis facing the Gareway commercial district.

“He says it is difficult for the state to intervene in the rescue of a business. Truly a principled argument. I knew he was a man of quick calculations, but this is beyond my expectations.”

“He is faster than I thought…”

“Well, it was foreseen.”

Starting with the death of Elisha Lenzdoor, the Duke of Devonshire began the process of erasing the traces of Klaus Diugen and MacQueen Lester from his political history. It was a swift change of stance.

“There is no one left to trust.”

Tsking lowly, Robert burned the letter with a candle. Along with a foul smell, the evidence of evasion burned away in an instant. The space where the writing had vanished was filled with crackling ash and the sound of laughter.

Robert leaned his head completely back. The smoke from the cigarette momentarily erased his distorted expression.

“There is no one to trust…”

Eyes drenched in a sense of loss shook dizzily. It was a decline so rapid that it made the prosperous past seem meaningless.

“I have arranged to speak with the loan officer at Burnswaine Bank this afternoon regarding the adjustment of the promissory note recovery timing. …I know you are struggling, President. I will also do my best.”

“You likely won’t get good news. The Burnswaine branch manager is someone who watches Devonshire’s mood quite closely.”

“Still, they have traded with us for a long time, so they will grant some convenience.”

The corners of Robert’s eyes curved softly.

“Thank you for staying, Aljef. You are truly a loyal friend.”

“President, I know these words aren’t of much help. But aren’t there countless employees belonging to Klaus who trust you and are holding on?”

“Yes, that is true.”

Robert laughed weakly, checked the time, and stood up.

“Go on. You must be well-prepared to meet the Burnswaine representative.”

“…I will return to the office.”

“You don’t have to. Don’t come back to the office; go home and get some rest. You’ve been running day and night. You need to clear your head. Only then can you plan various matters.”

“I will come back.”

“Stubborn as always.”

Laughing hollowly, Robert nodded. He looked excessively frail. Aljef licked his dry lips at Robert’s unusually unfamiliar appearance. Because only bad things had been happening, his recent thoughts were mostly negative. He didn’t know if he, too, was in a state where he needed rest, as Robert had said.

“I’ll be back.”

“Yes, I’ll be waiting for good news.”

Only after promising several times that he would return did Aljef take a reluctant step forward.

Thud.

The door closed, and silence returned. Since all the employees had been sent on outside business, the only person left in the office was Robert Higgins.

“….”

The shadow clinging to the floor tilted. After surveying the empty office, Robert smiled faintly and opened a small box containing opium. It was a top-grade product procured from Turkey. The effect of the opium he had experienced firsthand was terrifying. It provided comfort so easily and so quickly that he could instantly understand why so many people abandoned their lives to crave this devil’s flower.

However, the heaven obtained so easily turned into hell just as easily and quickly. Across the sea—no. The fruit of greed that had ruined even his partner eventually brought him down as well.

“What a farce.”

A grim voice flowed.

The feast of gold was not yet over. Immediate funding was not the problem. An immense amount of opium, difficult to convert into money, lay dormant in the warehouses of the Indian territories, and the war would end eventually. Though the man might be broken, Klaus Diugen was not. He knew. Even knowing that.

“What a headache. Truly. You want me to take responsibility for all of this? Lester, you irresponsible man.”

A giggling laugh filled the gaps between the shadows.

“It shouldn’t take that long. Even if the bureaucracy is fumbling… everyone knows this war will be won. It’s nothing to make a fuss about. This is a game of endurance. The side that holds out until the end wins.”

There was no one to answer the long soliloquy. The hand examining the cigarette stuffed with opium was bored and lethargic. What he held in his hand was a poison that had plunged tens of thousands of people into hell. Now, the deadly poison had extended its hand of death beyond the unspecified masses to its own master.

“Haha!”

A hollow laugh burst forth. Robert found it unbearably funny that the two people who had feared opium more than anyone else had both become opium addicts. It was the fall of base and filthy ambitionists.

“Robert, in the end, we won.”

“Now all that’s left is to gather everything! You’ve worked hard, Lester.”

“You as well. Thank you for staying with me until this moment. Now we will neither bow to anyone nor beg for favors. We must climb higher. Until the moment we can laugh at those arrogant nobles to our heart’s content.”

“Haha! Those are truly tempting words.”

“Just watch, Robert. I will pull the Klaus we built together to the very top of these back alleys. Once I reach that place, I’ll pay back those who laughed at us and ignored us. I must see them begging for my help.”

“Your ambition is grand.”

“I can’t do that alone. I need you. We will remain eternal partners until the end.”

“Of course. You say the most obvious things. I will be with you until the end.”

The face recalling the distant past slowly distorted. The companion he had trusted until the end, the one he thought would go to hell with him one day, had abandoned all desires and left. Leaving only him in this hell full of sin.

“What on earth is that love.”

To think you were such a weak creature, swayed so much by emotion. To be played by a foolish game of love. I believed I knew how to read people, but in reality, I failed completely. My gamble, betting on your moral flaws and inhumanity, also ended in failure.

“Yes. A complete failure indeed.”

Many thoughts flashed through his mind. A hollow laugh followed. For a moment, an unbearable sense of lethargy and emptiness poured over him. Depression and frustration surged and overflowed.

“Impossible.”

Robert hummed low, slowly moving his steps toward somewhere. Screeech—a blunt object in his hand scraped against the floor. A momentary silence fell. After a while, the body, like an old tree, moved again.

His steps were rhythmic. After a brief hesitation, he changed direction. A long shadow moved with minimal motion.

The sound of curtain fabric tearing and a chair being dragged followed. After the noisy movement, a breathless silence returned. His ragged breathing slowly subsided.

It was a span of time neither short nor long.

There was a brief hesitation in the steps as he climbed upward. Soon, with a crashing sound, a wooden chair overturned. A black shadow stretching from the air to the floor struggled for several minutes before falling into complete silence.

“For our future!”

The morning after a night that hid the world’s most secret mystery.

The breaking news of the suicide of Robert Higgins, the current representative of Klaus Diugen, who once dominated the Galloway opium trade rights, graced the front page of every newspaper in London.

✧ ✧ ✧

“They did not come here.”

The same answer returned at the fourth destination. Upon receiving a response from the interpreter that was not a single bit different from before, MacQuan collapsed onto the floor. His tall frame, drenched in cold sweat, convulsed uncontrollably.

“In the end, even here… Philip! Philip…”

Lariensa Filmore also wailed, cursing God. MacQuan could not even think of comforting the woman lost in grief; he barely managed to hold onto his fading consciousness. Despair, added to his anxiety, returned with a weight unlike anything he had felt before.

‘Even here…’

Though he thought there would be no possibility, the situation of having that fact confirmed at every moment dealt a stronger shock to his psyche than expected. His body and mind were exhausted from the long voyage, and enduring days without a single point of hope was a grueling march.

A powerful sense of anxiety rushed in. He knew. Even knowing, he held onto hope; even knowing, he despaired; even knowing, he wanted to die. There was no way they could have come this far. They were already hundreds of kilometers away from the initial site of disappearance.

Even knowing…

“The description…”

His pronunciation blurred due to his trembling lips. His voice was low and coarse. Bracing himself against the table with his palms, MacQuan stammered on.

“The descriptions… of the two people… please deliver them. Perhaps, perhaps they might come to this island…”

“They say the basic information is already known.”

“Still… still, please tell them anything, anything at all.”

Everyone knew it was merely a formal request. After surveying the surroundings and meeting the remaining local laborers, third-country officials, and middle-level bureaucrats, they would leave for the next contact point. Despite having repeated this countless times, there were now very few opportunities left to even do that.

Only one contact point remained.

Only once. Just one more time.

Even the act of hoping and despairing was a luxury. MacQuan swallowed a groan, covering his eyes. All circumstances pointed to a single conclusion. A conclusion that everyone already knew, but which only two foolish people refused to acknowledge, escaping from reality.

After ruminating on his thoughts for a long while, MacQuan gestured to Lariensa.

“Let’s look around.”

“….”

“There isn’t much time left for such opportunities.”

The hand pressing against the floor trembled violently. After a moment, the woman’s tear-filled eyes shone with determination.

“You’re right. I need to pull myself together.”

Gritting her teeth, Lariensa stood up without anyone’s help.

“Is there no hospital here either?”

The interpreter, who had been standing a step away, answered instead.

“They say there is a place nearby where patients are treated. It’s not in the form of a hospital, but it’s not far. Would you like to visit?”

At the question seeking consent, MacQuan also gave a light nod.

✧ ✧ ✧

The village, which must have once been a hub of active trade connected to the port, had long been devastated by the passing wave of opium. A country where people lived, yet where no one truly lived. The village, stripped of all vitality and vigor, was like a dead city.

“This… is a hospital?”

Lariensa, after surveying the exterior and interior of the building, asked with repeated sighs.

“Rather than a hospital, it is a place for temporary, urgent treatment.”

“A place worthy of treatment?”

“They say this is the only place.”

“My god, you mean they treat people in a place like this? Who can treat these patients? Even the doctors are smoking opium…”

The facilities were wretched, and the lobby was filled with neglected patients scattered everywhere. Their diagnoses might have differed, but they shared one commonality.

Opium.

The sight of them unable to support their skeletal bodies, smirking with eyes that had already died, was a scene he had seen in every opium den across the port cities they had passed.

“Lord Lester.”

“Yes.”

“Do those people live their whole lives intoxicated by opium like that? Without any way to be cured?”

“….”

MacQuan could not answer Lariensa’s question immediately. His role had been to provide the opium. He made money in exchange, and that was the end of it. Afterward, he had no interest in how to save the people who fell into the hell he had created. MacQueen avoided her gaze with a troubled expression.

Reading the silence, Lariensa sneered coldly.

“Even after I return, I don’t think I will ever be able to forget the Baronet.”

“…I am sorry.”

“I am not the one you should apologize to, Baronet. In this moment, I am so ashamed of my homeland.”

The eyes staring intently at the man grew wet with tears.

“Let’s go. Mr. Oliver, could you come this way? There is something I want to ask.”

“Eh? Yes, yes…”

Leaving the completely frozen man behind, Lariensa continued her questions to the following interpreter. Most were inquiries about places to see in the port city; there was nothing new.

Following behind them, MacQuan took in all the surrounding scenery. As Lariensa said, the roadsides were filled with Chinese people addicted to opium.

The people intoxicated by opium kept changing shapes, eventually transforming into the image of his lover. The lover holding the opium pipe was slightly fleshier and more vibrant than in his final memories. However, as time passed, the lover became intoxicated by the drug, and that noble soul was also ruined by opium.

Beside the lover, a grim reaper always stood. The reaper in black clothes was a man MacQuan knew well. The reaper looked exactly like his own face. Dark red blood was layered over the bright red flowers he had cultivated. The thick, flowing blood stained the pale blonde hair, which resembled grains of wheat, entirely red.

‘Filthy.’

His breath grew short.

‘Loathsome.’

Even as his lover died, he was powerless. His own hands were too filthy to even save him. MacQuan wished that even a dog wandering the street would despise and condemn him. He wished they would spit on him.

Strong whiskey sloshed. Strength entered the fingertips gripping the crystal glass. The hand brushing back the brown hair falling over his forehead was careless.

The eyes visible between eyelids that slowly closed and opened were sometimes filled with pain, sometimes with despair. Haha. MacQuan laughed loudly once more and leaned back in his chair. Naturally, his field of vision widened. He sensed a presence inside the lodging. He could easily tell the other’s identity just by the sound of the footsteps.

“You’ve come.”

Checking the time, MacQuan greeted the intruder with a bitter smile.

“It has been a long time. Why not be a bit more glad to see me?”

Hmph.

At the blunt tone, the person sitting opposite smiled mischievously. If it could be called a smile, it was merely one corner of the mouth curling up slightly. It was so minimal that it would be hard to notice without looking closely, but MacQuan had always been keen to notice the changes in that man.

Making an arrogant request, I see.

He was still arrogant. MacQuan shook his head weakly.

“How dare I. Would I even have the right to?”

I’m glad you know.

At the quick admission, Aaron smiled with eyes that looked satisfied. His heart was swept away by a torrent of emotion upon seeing that look, but MacQuan did not put it into words.

“Would you like a drink? I have some decent whiskey.”

I’ll pass.

A peaceful silence flowed. MacQueen lightly flicked the glass with his fingertip and asked back, pretending to be frivolous.

“Where are you?”

Hmm. The other’s smile deepened.

I wonder.

Aaron smiled even more brightly and rested his chin on his hand. Playful eyes gazed at MacQueen.

Look for me well.

Those deep blue eyes, as if the ocean had been permeated through them, held only him. An incomparable satisfaction spread into MacQueen’s heart.

I am Theodore.

I am your Theo, and I am your Theodore.

I was your servant and your dog.

“At this rate, I might forget my master.”

What a useless dog.

At the cold reprimand, MacQueen shrugged his shoulders with a laugh.

“How long do you think it’s been since I last saw you? Aaron, Aaron… Aaron… we…”

His words grew slower.

“It’s already been nearly two years… since I saw you.”

The fingertips measuring the time they hadn’t met trembled. The precariously maintained peace collapsed abruptly. In an instant, that cruel winter came to mind. That freezing, harsh, and sharp winter in London. The muzzles pointed at each other. That cruel gunshot and the blood that drenched the body in heat. The fading breath.

Love.

Extinction.

“You had no intention of shooting me from the start. Isn’t that right?”

He finally uttered the question he had kept buried for a long time. The other was now looking at MacQueen with an expressionless face, the smile gone. No reproach, no resentment was visible.

“You had no intention of shooting me.”

That’s not true.

“You had no intention of shooting. Surely, you changed direction immediately after the signal to fire.”

MacQueen…

“You intended to die.”

….

“Aaron, isn’t that so? Tell me. Tell me the truth.”

Just before the referee’s signal dropped, MacQueen had hesitated to pull the final trigger. It was a mere instant, but that hesitation was enough time to take a life. However, even after several seconds had passed since the signal, neither of them had sustained a gunshot wound. It was because neither had pulled the trigger.

The moment the strength left the finger resting on the trigger, MacQueen had clearly seen it.

Aaron Wizfeldon turning the hand holding the gun.

The muzzle changing direction toward his own head.

“Even when your brother tried to shoot me, instead of stopping your sibling, you tried to commit suicide. Is that not so?”

MacQueen.

“Explain to me why the pistol muzzle was pointed at your head.”

….

“Did you want to die that badly?”

MacQueen.

“Did you want to die?”

….

He shuddered at that cruelty and selfishness. He had struggled to forget it, and he had turned away, unwilling to believe that the man had no will to live. The emotion piercing through his heart surged to an extreme.

“You tried to die. You left for the negotiation delegation to achieve the goal you had planned for so long.”

No.

“To die in this war.”

It wasn’t like that.

“Did you really try to run away? Did you try to live? Was it true that you tried to go to Baden-Baden?”

Yes.

“Then why are you not visible?”

At the desperate question, cracks began to appear on the mask-like face. The lover frowned one eyebrow, looking as if he didn’t know what to do. Taking advantage of the momentum, MacQueen poured out his resentment.

“Was the plan to escape with that fellow Philip Hughes actually to avoid my eyes? Did you leave only traces to deceive me, while in fact, you intended to die somewhere?”

No.

“Do not lie to me.”

Blocking the lover’s endless denials, MacQueen sobbed low.

“You always wanted to die.”

….

New tears drew long streaks over his drenched cheeks.

“You always wanted to die. Even after I lost my memories, and even before I lost them.”

Eyes that no longer even made excuses looked straight at MacQueen. They were heartless and cold eyes, making it difficult to gauge what he was thinking or what emotion he felt.

“I was always anxious when I looked at you. I was always plagued by a vague anxiety that if I looked away for even a moment, I would never see you again. Why was I so anxious and restless?”

Theo.

The lover called the foolish yet faithful dog in a voice that had become slightly more tender. Theo, MacQueen, Theo. The titles the lover used to call him were changing several times. MacQueen shook his head with a hollow laugh.

“Even when I was Theodore…”

He swallowed the breath that had risen to the tip of his chin. To forget the pain tearing his heart apart, he downed the remaining whiskey in one go and slammed the glass down roughly. Despite the vulgar act, the lover did not impose any restraint. He simply watched. With eyes that held no resentment and made no judgment.

“Even when I was MacQueen Lester…”

Quiet sobbing continued.

“You always wanted to die.”

Always…

Always.

Stopping the thoughts that destroyed his inner self, MacQueen stood up. Despite that being all, the lover took a step back. It was a cruel rejection, refusing to allow the distance to be narrowed.

“I want to touch you.”

…No.

The lover smiled troubledly and shook his head.

“…I want to kiss you.”

No.

Troubled eyes rejected the desperate proposal. The yearning dog bared its teeth further and barked.

“I want to hold you.”

The man, whose patience had run out, hurried his steps. The startled lover stepped back further, but MacQueen was faster.

“I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to hold you. I want to hear your voice and touch your hand. I want to look into your eyes and cup your cheeks. I want to strip your clothes and touch your skin. I want to overlap my body with your cold body. I want to enter the deepest part of your body.”

Unfiltered desire poured out. The outstretched hand trembled with desperation.

“Aaron.”

MacQueen, no more.

“Aaron, please. Allow me.”

The soft, bright hair finally touched his fingertips. It was the moment an intense satisfaction, piercing through his entire body, was about to be felt.

Theo, no.

A sense of distance was felt in the voice that had been whispering beside him until a moment ago.

“Aaron!”

I told you no.

“Aaron, Aaron.”

The lover in the illusion was slowly fading. First the hair, then the elegant forehead, the thin cheeks, the eyes, the nape of the neck, the shoulders and chest, the flat stomach, and the long arms and legs—disappearing bit by bit, as if determined to vanish completely from his side in the end.

“Aaron…”

How foolish.

Scoffing at the dog’s insolence, the lover sighed. The form that had been clear until a moment ago was gradually disappearing.

You were always foolish. That is why you forget everything. Even the facts that must not be forgotten.

“Aaron…”

With wet eyes, MacQueen searched every corner of the old lodging room where no one remained. The conversation that had been vivid until a moment ago vanished without a trace. No presence could be felt. The judgment was swift. The reason that had wandered in a dream for a while finally returned to reality.

The Great God had handed down the most generous and cruel verdict to the English opium merchant. He could now see his lover without having to burn opium. He could converse to his heart’s content and hear a voice so clear that he felt as if the person were speaking right beside him.

However, he could not touch. He must not touch.

The moment he touched even slightly.

The dream would break.

And reality would become hell.

✧ ✧ ✧

As visitors from a foreign land, the abandoned house was noisier than usual.

“The wound is more severe than I thought. It’s a miracle it didn’t fester further.”

The missionary’s eyes distorted after examining the patient’s condition.

“Especially the leg; it almost became completely ruined. According to the doctor’s opinion, too much time has passed, so there are parts that are impossible to recover. It is difficult to treat it perfectly right now. This is because the level of medical skill in this country is far too low and medical equipment is insufficient. Boarding a merchant ship and sailing in this state is more dangerous. I cannot guarantee your life.”

Despite the grim warning, the man’s expression remained unchanged. His only reactions were staring intently at one spot with a thoughtful face from time to time or faintly tilting his head. After a long while, Aaron delivered a conventional greeting with a reluctant expression.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Still, you likely endured until now thanks to your companion’s correct treatment. If it had become infected, it would have been truly dangerous.”

The stranger’s eyes were filled with concern for the pitiful defeated soldier.

How dare you.

Aaron felt a momentary surge of anger at the cheap pity shown by the missionary. Even if he understood intellectually that it was a natural reaction since he had hidden his identity, he could not accept it all. However, he soon became too tired to even be angry, and Aaron simply gritted his teeth and vowed while leaning his back against the wall.

That he would never, ever like France or its people.

“I can only describe your colleague’s visit as an act of God helping you both.”

“How truly grateful.”

Aaron gave a hollow smile and shifted his gaze toward the door. He found the sight of people flocking in since morning, shouting and seeking God, to be distasteful. Misinterpreting Aaron’s indifferent expression as the foreigner being depressed, the missionary hurried to add an explanation.

“Let us move locations immediately. Even on humanitarian grounds, we cannot leave the wounded in a place like this any longer. Our facilities may not be luxurious, but they will be better than staying here.”

“……Is that so.”

Through the gap of the open door, a man engaged in conversation with another accompanying missionary came into view. It was Philip Hughes. His deeply furrowed brows suggested he was quite troubled.

Aaron could roughly guess what they were discussing. After watching Philip for a moment, Aaron let out a small chuckle and looked back at the missionary.

“……I appreciate the consideration, but my condition will not improve regardless. I know my own body best. It is unlikely I shall live long.”

His voice, devoid of any emotional amplification, echoed leisurely.

“Do not think so pessimistically. You simply need to receive proper treatment. If your condition improves even slightly here, it won’t be too late to move then. This place will be very safe for you two. Of course, however difficult it may be, you must stay away from opium from now on. It is already failing to function even as a painkiller for you. I have given your colleague strict instructions.”

“…….”

“It is a truly devilish remedy. No, in the first place, that flower should not even be called a painkiller. As you saw on your way here…… a significant portion of this city’s residents are addicted to opium.”

“I noticed.”

A withered hand moved across the sheet. The movement was slow and sluggish. The sensation in his fingertips, which once could feel the smallest of crumbs, had been destroyed long ago. Aaron stared blankly at his hand for a moment before shaking his head.

“Thank you for the advice. Unfortunately, I do not have enough time to indulge in such noble and humanitarian conversations.”

His detached eyes turned toward the other man. Though he had become gaunt from harsh times and pain, the light in his eyes remained vividly alive.

“I wish to leave as soon as my strength is recovered.”

The missionary startled and waved his hand.

“That is out of the question. If you attempt a reckless travel schedule now, your body will not withstand it. Recovering your strength is the priority.”

“My homeland is not generous enough to embrace a soldier who has fled to avoid war. Do you hesitate because the relationship between you, Missionary, and my homeland is poor? If so, this is a time for God’s embrace. Would that not be the very generosity bestowed by God?”

“It is not that. Fled? You two are people who felt skepticism toward a war without justification and came out to inform the world of an unreasonable situation, are you not? That is true courage. It is unreasonable to assume that martial force is the only criterion for judging a soldier’s bravery.”

“My colleague and I are far too pathetic as soldiers to be called brave.”

“Good heavens, no one in this world is pathetic.”

An unnamed soldier of the lowest rank, whom no one cared about.

The identity prepared for the purpose of stowaway was quite plausible. A soldier belonging to the English Navy who had gone missing long ago. It was an identity that had undergone several tedious processes to evade taxes and prevent tracking.

‘I hadn’t intended to use it like this originally……’

“As I said before, I have no time.”

He wasn’t sure if he had the time to endure the arduous process. Rather than both meeting their deaths through a foolish choice, it was right to invest in a choice that had at least a sliver of possibility.

“Therefore, I request your help so that we may seek asylum in your homeland as soon as possible. If my condition does not improve in the process, please at least take my foolish companion, who is currently flustered out there.”

A smile bloomed across his mask-like face.

“Did your conversation end well?”

At the voice that disturbed his rest, Aaron turned his head sharply.

“Entering without a sound—how rude.”

Philip averted his eyes slightly to avoid the fierce reprimand.

“There is no door, so how am I supposed to make a sound……”

“Impertinent.”

After a brief mutter, Philip examined Aaron’s condition with a worried expression. Contrary to his irritability, his complexion was worse than it had been this morning.

“Are you struggling? The missionary gave me some medicine; I will go get it.”

“……Forget it.”

Despite breaking out in cold sweats that soaked his entire body, he was stubborn. To anyone, he looked as if he were barely enduring the pain.

Philip gave up on persuading him and sat down on the floor, scanning the surroundings. Unlike the warmth outside, the indoor air was musty and stifling. Ventilation was useless. As the missionary said, it was not a place where a patient should be.

“You said you were soldiers. I was completely fooled. Actually, more than fooled, I was impressed. He told me several times that he had to bring his colleague quickly.”

“You managed to understand those words, I see.”

“I told you I speak a little French.”

At the words laced with mockery, Philip responded with a chuckle. The man’s tone was always sharp and aggressive, but that was all. He was gradually becoming accustomed to Aaron’s eccentric way of speaking.

“……Ugh.”

“Earl!”

“Don’t come near me.”

The conversation cut off again. Labored breaths to endure the pain exchanged rapidly. Aaron curled his body, swallowing the rising agony.

“……Agh.”

Philip did not bother to support him. Through experience, he had learned that the young Earl felt intense aversion and humiliation at being touched by others. Philip knew that his help, born of goodwill, would instead be poison to the other.

“Huu……”

The gaunt body breathed heavily for a long while to endure the pain. Only after a much longer time did the tightly closed eyelids open again.

“First, go to France.”

The voice that broke the silence was tight, yet clear. Contrary to his venomous expression, the hand wiping away the damp sweat had no strength.

“It is impossible right now.”

“Stop your foolish thinking. Enough with the stupid judgments.”

Realizing what he meant, Philip approached in surprise.

“Are you telling me to go alone? If that were my intention, I would not have come this far with you, Earl.”

“Yes. That sentiment of yours only made our situation more of a mess.”

“Earl!”

“Don’t annoy me.”

Pressing his hand against his eyelid, Aaron swallowed another groan. He felt a surge of anger at the foolish stubbornness Philip Hughes displayed.

“It is troublesome for someone to be left behind.”

“Earl, I will not leave alone.”

“……I truly cannot understand you. Even if you and I stay together, we must move before our identities are revealed as false. Once they realize my identity is linked to my family, they will immediately wash their hands of us and contact the English royal family. Things become a headache when nobility is involved. They will never want to be entangled in such a tiring affair.”

“Earl……”

“Even if I am caught, it is the end for me once I am summoned back to England. I can simply return to my family, so I suffer no disadvantage. You are the only one who dies.”

“…….”

“Do I need to speak more simply for a dim-witted person like you to understand? You are the only one who will be killed by the Newcastle Duke. The Newcastle Duke will apologize to me and my family for his daughter’s misconduct, and your death will be a dog’s death that no one knows of.”

The silence of anguish deepened. In the midst of it, Aaron flipped through the pages of a more distant past. Many memories and figures passed by slowly. The scope narrowed and surged repeatedly. The times and people of his agony and torment.

Cornwall.

Father.

Father.

Aaron laughed silently for a long time, then roughly wiped the corner of his eye and leaned back against the wall. He had realized far too late that even hatred is only possible when one has strength and will.

“If you wish to die at the hands of the Newcastle Duke, I will not stop you. It would be more convenient to wait until I recover and then be summoned to England together. The decision is yours.”

“……Earl.”

“I have presented the best direction given my situation. Now only your choice remains. I have no intention of taking any responsibility for the result. My kindness regarding the matter of you arbitrarily dragging me into your foolish journey ends here. For I did not ask you to save me, nor did I request that you stay with me.”

Every word he spat out was heartless. Knowing those words were true, Philip could not easily answer. Above all, Philip recognized the worry mixed into Aaron’s words.

“……I will.”

After hesitating for a long time, he gave his answer to Aaron. Only then did a faint smile appear on that fiercely sharp face.

✧ ✧ ✧

The process of scouring the villages and cities around the anchorage was similar to any other time, but the atmosphere was not.

As the fruitless search dragged on, the eyes and hands scanning the spaces and people became more desperate and anxious. It was a ruthless time of day.

Four laborers, who had been searching an old building for a while, spotted MacQuan by the entrance and turned toward him.

“Sir Lester, it is not here either. How about we move to another location?”

At the hopeless news repeated for several days, his thick eyebrows distorted heavily.

“Was there no room that went undiscovered?”

“It was a small house, so there was no such space.”

“Search more, search more. There must be something we are missing.”

Dissatisfied with the laborer’s answer, MacQuan gestured toward the house they had just searched. The interpreter approached with a troubled face.

“We must not linger here any longer. Should we not hurry and divide the other sectors to search?”

“Is it not possible that we missed something because we were hurrying?”

“That will only delay us further. There is a limit to the manpower we can deploy.”

“I want to hire more laborers.”

“That is impossible. We have already mobilized the maximum possible manpower. Moreover, we are all quite exhausted. We have been at sea for several months already, and the laborers’ dissatisfaction is growing.”

“……More. This is not enough. We need to search more, but we have no time.”

“Sir Lester, we have already searched enough. There is no more meaning in this.”

“Not yet!”

Attention focused on the loud, cracked shout. Lariensa, who had just finished inspecting the interior of a general store, stopped her steps and watched the situation before her.

“It is not over yet, so what do you mean by ‘no more meaning’?”

“Sir Lester, that’s not what I meant……”

The glaring gaze was drenched in madness. Because he had not slept properly for a long time, his skin was rough and his eyes were bloodshot. A suppressed storm raged.

“If that’s not it, then what meaning is there!”

A pitch-black, nauseating fear engulfed MacQuan. Even while acting composed as if nothing were wrong, the moment someone pointed out the reality, an unbearable anxiety burned through his entire interior. Eyes crazed with madness flashed.

“Not yet. I said not yet. Yes. Do you not know that there is only one island we can search? Therefore, we must scour this place thoroughly before leaving for the final contact point. I will provide as much money and gold ingots as needed, so mobilize as many people as possible who can move.”

Having finished speaking like a rapid-fire gun, MacQuan spat out a curse and messed up his hair. To anyone, he looked extremely unstable.

Knowing that the employer became incapable of proper conversation when emotions reached their limit, the man accepted MacQuan’s proposal with a resigned face.

“……I will try to gather more capable people.”

The interpreter quickly left the scene, taking the laborers with him. As the crowd dispersed instantly, the street suddenly became desolate.

“…….”

While silence dominated the street, one person remained, standing blankly, unable to leave. The eyes of the woman watching him also sank with complexity.

By the time they returned to the lodging, the entire street was already dark.

“Please drink some.”

“…….”

“I heard the alcohol is not strong.”

The dark green eyes staring at the glass were turbid. They had just visited a tavern near the lodging, searching for where crowds gathered. He had entered with a sliver of hope, but the result was no different from before.

He found no trace of either of them. It was a pathetic conclusion.

“If you push them blindly, the people are bound to get exhausted. They have been suffering for months as well.”

“I know. ……Even knowing that, I could not control myself in that moment. I have shown an imprudent side of myself before the Lady. I apologize.”

“Sigh……”

Seeing MacQuan crumbling more rapidly than herself as time passed, Lariensa sighed lightly and pulled up a chair to sit. He had acted composed at first, but thinking back, he might have been barely holding on.

“This behavior does not help the people. You, Baronet, are instead playing a role that only increases the anxiety.”

The sailors and laborers were equally exhausted by the time that flowed without any proper result.

“I know this sounds cold. But I fear that the search personnel will drop out of the work due to the Baronet’s unreasonable demands. If it continues like this, how about you step back for a while? I will lead them. I am just as anxious as they are, knowing only one place remains.”

Despite the words hitting the mark, MacQuan merely toyed with his glass without any answer. He then slowly looked around the interior of the tavern with an expressionless face.

The unremarkable, old tavern was crowded with people—some seeking to relieve their weary fatigue, others for pleasure. Unconsciously, his grip on the glass tightened, wondering if he might find a clue.

“I have been to a place like this before.”

“A place like this?”

At the cryptic words, Lariensa stopped her hand from pressing her temple and glanced at him. The man, who looked as if he might collapse at any moment, was wandering somewhere in his lost time with a blurred expression.

“A place with many people…… and crowded.”

MacQuan traced a very old past with tired eyes. Each time a memory surfaced, it was faint yet dark, exhausted, and lonely.

“Yes, it was a tavern like this.”

With my master.

At the succession of memories, he unconsciously smiled faintly.

“You don’t even enjoy alcohol, so why do you come to places like this?”

“……Why must I explain all the reasons to you?”

“I’m curious. Master doesn’t even like people. Yet I don’t understand why you just stare at people here without even drinking. Do you have some strange hobby? Or perhaps you are looking for someone to spend the night with……”

“I should shoot a bullet into that mouth to make it shut.”

A single outing they had shared. On the way back from purchasing paintings and sculpting tools, they had stopped briefly at a pub where local laborers came to have a drink after work. The master, wearing a ridiculous wig and glasses, spent a long time observing the people entering and leaving the tavern without even touching the drink he ordered. Even the tinted glasses could not hide the brilliant, intelligent eyes shining within.

“I am observing people.”

“People?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly are you observing about people?”

“People who are alive and moving.”

“Aren’t all people alive and moving?”

“Those with a bit more vitality. I am trying to remember the feeling of distinct emotions.”

“Why do you do such a thing?”

“It helps when I work. Things like gestures or expressions.”

After answering briefly, Aaron fell into silence for a long time with a contemplative face. Whenever he relaxed, that habitually irritable and sensitive atmosphere of his would noticeably fade. As MacQuan gazed, unable to take his eyes off the painting-like beauty, the bright blue eyes slowly moved toward him.

“I suppose I don’t need to go out anymore.”

“Are you going to a new place?”

“No.”

How did those always blunt lips create such a lovely smile?

How could those eyes, which were only cold, be so warm?

How could that brusque tone be so soft?

“I can just look at you. You make a fuss and a racket over the smallest things, so you’re perfect.”

Yes, just like this moment.

A boyish laugh, a mischievous laugh.

Because that laugh simply would not disappear.

I want to cut off my head.

If I cut off my head and take out my brain, could I stop these destructive thoughts?

Could I escape from the endless self-reproach and guilt? If I gouge out my eyes, peel away the flesh, and cut off my head.

Could I take you out?

“There is something I am curious about.”

The hideous monster turned its gaze. Though she was gaunt and dressed in shabby clothes, the woman was still strikingly beautiful, and her nobility could not be hidden. She was the master’s only fiancée. Once again, a pitch-black jealousy opened its maw. As the anxiety reached its peak, reason rapidly crumbled.

The monster summoned its last bit of strength to don a human mask once more. The rotting skin was concealed, the cursed eyes were hidden, and the venomous tongue vanished without a trace.

“What did Earl Vispilt mean to you?”

“……What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

Lariensa asked back immediately, her expression reflecting the abruptness of the question.

“Exactly what I said.”

MacQueen shrugged as if it were nothing and drank the rest of his liquor.

“I find it difficult to understand the relationship between the two of you.”

He feigned composure, but every sense was poised for the answer. He wanted to seize even the smallest piece of information. It was a desperate struggle to steal every tiny, meager memory of his lover from the woman.

“…….”

Contrary to his expectation that she would utter something, Lariensa said nothing. She simply watched him with expressionless eyes.

“I hope you do not misinterpret my words, Baronet.”

After a long silence, Lariensa finally spoke.

“I believe I am also not in my right mind. However, I have always wondered why the Baronet seeks Earl Vispilt. You were neither family nor friends, nor even colleagues; in fact, you were in a relationship worse than that of enemies.”

“…….”

The green eyes, clouded with jealousy, narrowed. It was an instinct to gauge the opponent’s intention and attack whoever tried to steal his person. At this reaction, which was akin to a wild beast, Lariensa smiled faintly and set down her glass.

“The emotion I shared with him was closer to comradeship. We had much in common and were people with the same goals.”

She recalled memories of her fiancé, though they were not very long.

It had been an intense first meeting.

Having arrived at the Country House while frozen in anxiety, wondering countless times how to break off this arranged marriage, she found her fiancé to be a man who drew the eye more than she had imagined. Her prospective fiancé was neither as terrifying nor as rude as the rumors suggested. Despite his picture-perfect looks, he simply seemed exhausted and worn out; he was merely an ordinary man, not the opium-crazed monster of the rumors.

“By any chance, did the Earl already have someone he loved?”

“I have no obligation to answer personal matters to you.”

“The Earl always seemed to long for someone. Of course, he never mentioned it to me directly, so it is only a guess.”

Lariensa’s lips parted slightly with hesitation. She felt she had to show respect to the man who had once been her fiancé, even if it was in name only and there was no way to know if he was even alive.

“Since it concerns another’s heart and emotions, I dare not define or judge them with any words of my own. However.”

MacQueen held his breath for a moment and listened intently to what Lariensa had to say.

“He seemed to want to protect something, and he appeared to be suffering because of it. Of course, he would likely find even such an expression unpleasant.”

As she continued to speak, MacQueen’s expression grew rigid. He recalled that night when he thought it was the end and poured out his distorted heart—the final expression of his lover, stained with wounds. And that blunt whisper, saying it wasn’t because of her.

“The reason he planned the clandestine voyage with me…… was because he said every plan he attempted had ended in failure. That was the extent of the explanation he gave me.”

It was hard to breathe.

……He wanted to die.

“Perhaps…… he, ……no, I will stop here. I feel it is not appropriate to speak of such things without Lord Wizfeldon’s consent. I wish to respect him.”

“That is enough. I am merely grateful that I have come to my senses thanks to you.”

MacQueen whispered a soulless thank you. His rough palm brushed his stiff eyes. Unsorted thoughts and unrefined emotions mixed in a chaotic mess.

“Let’s head back after this drink. We must leave again tomorrow.”

“……I am sorry. I showed a lacking side of myself to the lady today.”

Watching the man collapse under self-loathing, Lariensa quietly stood up. She felt no pity for that wicked man. Not even a shred of regret. That man, and she herself, were merely accomplices entangled in that filthy opium.

“I will look around the tavern a bit more with the interpreter. Since it is a place where sailors frequent, we might hear other news.”

“Very well. Do not overexert yourself.”

The sound of footsteps gradually receded. Watching the woman push the resting interpreter to blend back into the crowd, MacQueen smiled bitterly. Unlike himself, who was losing his mind to emotion, the daughter of Newcastle strengthened her will as time passed, holding onto her crumbling heart and pushing through the pain. She was a clever woman. It was no wonder his lover had risked so much to plot with her.

Silence returned.

MacQueen downed the remaining liquor in one gulp and repeatedly bit his lip until it bled. He now knew what the relationship between the daughter of Newcastle and his lover had been, what his lover had ultimately desired, and what he had intended to do.

“…….”

A weight of emotion, almost impossible to guess, crashed over MacQueen. He found it unbearable to remember his past self, blinded by jealousy, driving his lover to the limit and condemning him. When you reached out your hand so that I would not reach the bottom of the abyss of malice, I was too busy insulting and resenting you. I eventually pushed away that hand, full of scar marks, by my own will.

“Haha……”

Hot tears flowed over his self-mocking face. He had to pull himself together and stand up again. He still had the fifth contact point left. Since he had to pour all his remaining strength into it, he could no longer be buried in emotion.

Yes. One place.

Only one place left.

If you are not there, even there……

I……

Just as despair and self-reproach were about to swallow MacQueen whole.

———!

With a loud crash, a roughly finished wooden chair tumbled across the floor. A table on one side of the tavern had completely overturned. Glasses shattered, and a commotion broke out as the tavern drunks began to murmur. In the center of the chaos stood Lariensa Filmore and the interpreter. A scream filled with sobbing instantly filled the tavern.

“Catch that man!”

Lariensa shouted, her face pale. Following the direction of her trembling fingertips, MacQueen turned his body. There stood a man who had just entered the tavern with a bewildered expression, and beside him, a tavern wench was fiddling with a large ring attached to the end of a necklace the man had handed over. The jewel embedded in the center of the ring was a blue diamond of such large carats that it was visible even from a distance.

“That ring, that ring is the one I gave to Philip. It is the ring of my family, Newcastle! My God, Lord!”

“……!”

A groan escaped him, unable to form words. There was no time to judge right from wrong. Driven by pure instinct, MacQueen threw himself toward where the men were standing. In that desperate and violent gesture, the remaining tables and chairs were knocked over. The tavern, rampant with screams and shouts, instantly turned into a scene of carnage.

MacQueen Lester, the opium merchant of England, sought God for the first time in his life.

That he would pay for his sins even in death.

That he would pay for all his sins.

That he would burn his soul in the eternal fires of hell.

So please.

……Please.

Lord.

Lord, please.

Lord, please have mercy on me.

Please have mercy on me.

Give me the chance to tell him just once that I was your dog.

Save me.

✧ ✧ ✧

The ring set with the blue diamond hanging from the man’s neck was a jewel embodying the symbol of the Duke of Newcastle’s family. Its size, exceeding 20 carats, was enough to be recognized immediately from several paces away.

“Catch him. Please catch him, please!”

A large body slammed into the merchant. Though he was in a state of drug-induced haze, having neither slept nor eaten properly for so long he couldn’t remember, in that moment, his movements were agile and full of power. Caught in the sudden onslaught, the two merchants were unable to offer much resistance and were knocked to the floor. The companions who followed quickly bound the remaining merchant.

『What, what is this!』

Though he had been ruined during his time addicted to opium, MacQueen had a naturally large frame. Once he subdued the man, who was smaller in stature, the thread of reason he had barely maintained snapped.

『What on earth are you…… gah!』

“Speak.”

『Agh…… ugh…… br, breathe… breathe, who… who are you……』

“I said speak.”

『Wh…… what, what do you want me… to say… ugh……』

With a vacant expression, MacQueen strangled the man. His grip was ferocious, as if the man were the murderer who had killed his lover. The necklace crossing the sun-tanned nape and the blue diamond ring hanging from its end were exceptionally vivid.

“Where did you get the necklace? No. This ring, the ring, this ring……”

『Ugh…… agh……』

“The ring. Answer me, answer me now!”

『I…… I can’t understand……』

Realizing the man did not understand at all, the interpreter rushed over.

“B-Baronet, please calm down. This man neither speaks nor understands our language. I will convey the message, so p-please wait a moment.”

Though terrified of the man driven by madness, the interpreter faithfully performed his duty. Only after hearing the translated words did the merchant wave his hands and shout with all his might.

“He says they are innocent. He says they simply exchanged it because the other party wanted to trade this ring for the goods they had.”

“Goods? What goods. Tell him if he doesn’t speak plainly, I’ll kill him right here. Convey my words exactly.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

The gaze staring back was filled with murderous intent. When the movements of the man, who had been hitting the floor several times due to shortness of breath, slowed down, MacQueen instantly released his grip on the collar. The pale interpreter continued to relay the words.

“He says the person looked like a soldier. He was someone who couldn’t speak the Qing language at all, and these men couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying either. He simply kept showing his wounds. He says his appearance was shabby and he was injured in many places, looking as though he hadn’t received proper treatment.”

Upon receiving the translation, MacQueen’s eyes gleamed ferociously.

“Did he help them? If he helped them, why do you have this ring? Tell him to speak truthfully. If there is even a hint of a lie, I will kill him on the spot.”

“Yes, yes……”

Having completely lost his mind, MacQueen tightened his grip on the throat again.

『Agh, ack! Sa-save me, save me……』

“B-Baronet, the translation is in progress, please wait a moment!”

Violent struggling ensued again. At the gesture that seemed truly intent on killing, Lariensa finally snapped out of it and rushed over to cling to MacQueen.

“Baronet! Get a hold of yourself. If you kill these men, we will never know where you met Philip! If you kill this man, I will kill you. Let go of him!”

“Move aside, Lady Lariensa.”

“I said let go, please! If you kill that man, those two die as well. You’ll never find them. Please let go, let go now!”

Only then, at the gesture of her clinging with all her might, did MacQueen slowly nod.

“……I understand.”

His pale face was drenched in cold sweat.

“……I understand. I understand.”

As the strength left his hand, the merchant from Daecheong quickly signaled the interpreter. His face, twisted in pain, was smeared with tears and bodily fluids.

『Cough, cough…… I didn’t want to help. I prefer not to get involved in troublesome matters. I intended to ignore him and leave, but that man gave me this ring first. While giving the ring, he kept pointing to his wounds, and he looked like he needed medicine. At the time, I was blinded by the jewel, and my heart softened, so I gave him plenty of opium to use instead of medicine and painkillers and sent him on his way. That is truly all. Truly……』

Along with a sob, physiological tears flowed down the man’s dark cheeks. The interpreter quickly relayed this fact to MacQueen and Lariensa.

“My God, Philip…… Philip……”

Confirming that her lover was alive, Lariensa collapsed on the spot. At the sound of her weeping, filled with raw joy, the eyes that had been possessed by a demon finally regained a different light. A clumsy hope flowed through the fragments of MacQueen’s shattered mind.

Perhaps.

His fingers and lips, defying the will of his body, trembled uncontrollably.

Perhaps. Perhaps.

His eyes grew hot. Moisture welled up, and he heard a voice again.

MacQueen, MacQueen.

It was the voice of his lover calling him. It was cold, yet warm; now all boundaries were a mess.

“Was he alone?”

It was a quiet voice. At the short but heavy question, the surroundings fell silent. MacQueen concluded that this, too, was likely a hallucination. From a certain point, it had become frequent for the surrounding sounds to fade and for him to fall into a space completely detached from reality. He wondered if it was because he had smoked every kind of opium without discrimination, but it wasn’t important.

Even within his withered patience, MacQueen waited for the answer with all his might. The terrified man, hearing the interpreter’s words, hurriedly nodded.

『He was alone!』

“He says he was alone.”

Thump. A sharp stone seemed to fall upon the crown of his head. In an instant, his entire body was stained with blood.

He was alone.

MacQueen recalled the words of the witness who claimed to have seen the final moments of his lover. That someone had fallen from the ship into the sea, and that Philip Hughes had certainly been in the boat to rescue him.

Convulsions racked his body. The end of Aaron Wizfeldon as remembered by the witness, and the man who was with him.

Why was he alone?

The despair that crashed in like a tidal wave completely destroyed MacQueen’s reason. With his remaining hand, MacQueen quickly pulled a pistol from his coat. His intention was to die right then and there. The merchant, misinterpreting the movement as an intention to kill him, added urgently through tears.

『N-no. Now that I think about it, h-he had a companion!』

“B-Baronet, he says there was a companion!”

“…….”

The movement stopped. The focus of his completely vacant eyes slowly shifted toward the merchant.

『A-a companion, a companion, yes, yes, there was a companion, certainly. I-I don’t know much, but I know a word or two from your country. He definitely used the word friend…… no, colleague? Anyway, he used a word like that. I-I thought he was trying to be friendly to me, but n-now that I think about it, it seemed like he was talking about his friend. H-however, that was all, and after that, I couldn’t understand anything. It’s true. That’s all, truly there is nothing more.』

“…….”

Friend. Colleague.

“Where is that place?”

『T-that place was probably……』

The merchant struggled to recall old memories. Since he traveled here and there, it took time to recall the exact region, but under the suffocating pressure, the memory returned faster than ever before.

『Putuo, it was Putuo! It was Seonjamon in Putuo County! L-listen, it’s Seonjamon, tell this madman quickly!』

The man, whose urgency had reached its peak, shouted desperately.

“……Haha.”

The moment he heard the place name through the interpreter, a twisted smile played on MacQueen’s lips.

Seonjamon.

It was a region that had nothing to do with the planned routes for the clandestine voyage. It was a laugh mixed with cheap euphoria and anger at the time spent meaninglessly upon the sea.

“……Putuo. ……Seonjamon.”

Now he stood at a crossroads: whether to proceed to the final contact point as planned, or to change the destination to the region where the merchant said he had met him. Based on Dinghai, the contact points gradually moved north, while Putuo, where the merchant had given Philip Hughes medicine and opium, was an island region south of Dinghai Port.

It was a slim possibility. Even then, it was an uncertain clue, difficult to judge whether it was true or not. His eyes, with no tears left to shed, twitched. So did his dry, desolate cheeks.

The deliberation was not long.

MacQueen quickly calculated the gains, losses, and possibilities. Even while going mad from opium, his mind worked brilliantly in that moment. He released the merchant’s throat and slowly stood up.

“Please stand up.”

MacQueen looked at Lariensa with an expressionless face.

“……Very well.”

Even in her disorientation from the sudden situation, she felt that MacQueen’s gaze toward her was like that of a corpse.

“We must return to the ship immediately. The destination has changed. Hurry.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Seonjamon.”

Having finished the payment, MacQuan immediately turned and headed for the exit. Not a single moment could be wasted. The party hurried after him, leaving the tavern behind.

A little faster.

A little faster to you.

The eyes staring straight ahead grew moist.

Are you alive?

A foul wind blew. As soon as they escaped the confined space, the sounds of reality rushed frantically into both ears. MacQuan vaguely felt that his state of mind was not normal. Regardless of the opium, his psyche was collapsing in real-time.

The surrounding noise vanished, leaving only the sound of footsteps treading on grass. Along with the cool scent of the forest, hair reminiscent of a wheat field entered his vision. It was his lover. The lover, who had been walking beside him for a long while, smiled crookedly and whispered.

No. I am dead. I died miserably and painfully. You will face my rotting corpse. Then, I shall smile joyfully as I watch you fall into despair.

It was a spitefulness truly befitting a lover.

“No, in that case, I shall dig up your grave, pull out the corpse, and kiss it.”

MacQuan twisted the corners of his mouth into a smile and willingly responded to the curse. As if dissatisfied with the answer, the lover’s smooth face crumpled in displeasure.

How vulgar.

He could never convey the retort: Do you not know that such words cannot wound me?

✧ ✧ ✧

The sky was thick with clouds. The violent storm shook the hull fiercely, as if determined not to tolerate any wicked souls. Following the direction of the surging waves, the fast ship carrying their desires repeatedly swayed precariously or struggled to maintain balance.

Contrary to the expectation that they would arrive in about a month, the journey to Seonjeomon grew indefinitely long. Even with a reckless voyage devoid of intermediate ports, no answer came.

“How much longer until we arrive? The speed is excessively slow.”

A low voice echoed inside the cabin. The captain spoke with a deep sigh. It was the same question repeated for several days now. The available answers and alternatives remained the same.

“The weather is poor, so it is difficult to guarantee.”

“Even an approximation—if we push for maximum speed to get there as quickly as possible…”

He was met with a rebuttal before the request could even finish.

“It is impossible to go any faster than this. We are already sailing recklessly enough. It is already madness. If we deviate any further from the proper course, everyone aboard this merchant ship will die.”

“It is too late.”

“Lord Lester.”

“…Too late.”

“This is not a matter of fast or slow. Human lives are at stake.”

The man was a veteran captain who had held the helm for decades. Despite the claim being based on fact and experience, for some reason, the other party seemed completely unable to accept it. Thinking that the man had seemingly lost his mind, the captain drove the point home.

“I understand your urgency. However, I must also protect my crew.”

At the stubborn response, MacQuan lowered his head and stared at some spot on the cabin floor. His parched lips twitched.

“…It does not matter.”

“Pardon?”

“Order all unnecessary personnel to disembark at the nearest port. I hope this grueling schedule is not prolonged further because of an unspecified multitude.”

Despite the look of horror, MacQuan only smiled gloomily. He had never been an altruistic person. He was neither humane, nor did he possess conscience or morality. Had such feelings remained in him to begin with, he would never have let the situation reach such an extreme. The lives of strangers were of no importance. There could be no villain more hideous than this.

“Lord Lester!”

“If you are afraid, you may disembark as well. I will not stop you. Of course, I will ensure you are compensated well for your hardships thus far. Instead, if you can move the schedule up even slightly, I will pay ten times the promised sum.”

“That, that is…”

Greedy gold stuck out its tongue. Watching the captain hesitate even while trembling in fear, MacQuan smiled brightly.

I shall go to hell. No matter how many times I am reborn, die, and die again, every place I open my eyes shall be hell.

“Judge for yourself what is advantageous.”

Having thrown his hand, the man left the cabin without a trace of lingering regret.

The hand gripping the cabin door handle did not let go easily for a while.

“….”

The interior was excessively dark and silent. Silence was one of the hardest sensations to bear, as it served as proof of someone’s absence. After scanning the interior for a moment, MacQuan walked decisively toward the display cabinet and opened the glass door.

Crash—!

Shortly after, a terrifyingly sharp shattering sound followed. It was a porcelain cup that had been in the cabinet until a moment ago. Starting from that, MacQuan began to scream and throw everything in sight indiscriminately. It was a symptomatic episode that repeated to a tedious degree.

“I have always wondered if a God truly exists.”

Amidst the chaotic shattering sounds, his solitary muttering was terribly twisted and warped. MacQuan sneered at God and brutally trampled the fallen objects.

Crash, crash—!

His movements in throwing and smashing were relentless. Sharp shards flew every time an object broke. Scratches appeared where they grazed his face, and his shoes became a mess as he stepped on them haphazardly. Self-harm and acts of destruction were his final means of managing anxiety.

“If He existed, this could not be. Is that not so?”

The palm rummaging through the shattered glass fragments was already smeared with blood. His lightless eyes held no emotion. Humming an unknown song, MacQuan looked around for something to consume his anxiety. The documents on the table were soon tossed into a mess, their order scrambled as they fell.

“I believed that for a human like me, there was not even the mercy of God.”

His voice was dark and eerie. The destructive self-harm did not stop. In his rampaging gestures, almost no object remained intact. Even as time passed, the behavior did not subside. Lord, Lord. The words calling for God were thick with ridicule.

“Yes. I always thought God only filled the bellies of those who already had. He was the God of you—the noble, the plump, and the dignified. He was never once a God for those living at the bottom. Is that not so?”

The mad shout rang out loudly. He picked up shards to throw them again, slammed his head against the wall, and overturned the standing table.

Suddenly, a painting that had passed by came to mind. A painting torn and trampled without form. A painting of the back of a man with red hair. The painting his lover had torn, the one he had been ordered to burn. Those blue eyes that had gone mad with rage and betrayal.

“If God truly existed, He could not do that to you.”

Profanities, curses, and resentments burst out indiscriminately. The target was sometimes God, sometimes the King, and sometimes the nobility, but most of the time, the curses were directed at himself.

“He could not do that to you…”

Talking to himself as if in self-derision, MacQuan walked with staggering steps. His mind, which only returned when there was physical pain, had now become so numb that it rarely returned even with significant wounds.

How pathetic.

The lover before his eyes glared at MacQuan with a cold gaze.

It was a look of resentment, still unable to find him. In the face of a misery that flayed the skin, MacQuan filled a remaining unbroken glass with strong liquor and drank. An exploding pain surged down his esophagus.

“Wait for me.”

His dry lips trembled. No matter how much he drank, he did not get drunk, and eventually, he laughed while drinking straight from the bottle. I must be sane, even if only a little; I must be in my right mind to meet you. The more possibilities he discovered, the more MacQuan was engulfed in terror.

“Please wait for me. There is truly not much time left…”

If you truly died.

If I go there and truly confirm your death.

I.

I.

His staggering steps headed toward the bed placed in a corner. His tall frame, losing strength in an instant, collapsed onto the bed. The profanities and curses gradually subsided. Soon, a cowardly weakness overflowed. As sensation slowly returned, his wound-ridden body writhed, unable to bear the pain.

“…Have mercy.”

The cowardly devil sought God once more. He craved and begged for a single handful of a holy miracle wrought by God. Ah, please, end this time, end it.

Lord, Lord, Lord.

A sound, whether a laugh or a sob, flowed from between his slack lips. Blood flowed endlessly from the hand clutching the sheets. He could no longer distinguish whether the pain he felt was physical or mental.

The dirty sheets became soaked with filthy tears and blood. MacQuan truly apologized, admitting he had erred by spitting words that defiled God. He promised to become a faithful believer. His broad shoulders and entire back shook violently.

“…Have mercy.”

His sweat-soaked forehead and the bridge of his nose were rubbed recklessly against the blood-stained sheets.

Memory plummeted again.

Down.

Down.

To that bottom where a threadlike hope was held.

Exactly fifteen days later.

Despite various adverse conditions, the fast ship carrying the English outlaw arrived at Putuo. The sky over Seonjamon port was blue and clear without a single cloud, making the days of despair seem almost laughable. It was the final step for disembarkation and the final destination.

Amidst terrible pain, MacQuan had vowed and vowed.

Even if I die, I shall die before your corpse. I shall die confessing my sins to you and begging for forgiveness.

✧ ✧ ✧

The surroundings of Seonjamon port and the appearance of the islanders were not different at all from the places they had passed through. The opium that dominated the entire island and the dark atmosphere suggested that the journey to unfold here would not be easy.

Leaving behind those ruined by opium, MacQuan stared only straight ahead. He knew that if he looked at the dying people for even a moment, he would collapse. His chipped and worn psyche was now screaming that this was truly the end. If despair deepened once more, he would not be able to stand again; at that point, he would have no choice but to die.

“This is a place where foreigners from various countries come and go. There is a severe lack of specific information… and above all, I have heard no reports that a high-ranking noble from your country is here.”

The answer from the official managing Seonjeomon was firm. It was a moment where the remaining shred of hope collapsed once again.

They attempted to persuade him with a massive amount of silver ingots to check the entry and exit logs of foreigners, but it was impossible to track every arriving ship, merchant, and soldier. When the logbook containing the final entry records was closed, he was forced to face the pitch-black, filthy despair that weighed down his entire body.

“If they were in their right mind, even if they arrived here, they would not have been able to honestly say they came from a barbaric country, would they?”

Even while pocketing numerous silver ingots through back-alley deals, the Daecheong official did not hide his contempt and anger toward the enemy nation. No one in the party could refute that attitude.

Even on the way to the missionary residence, the last bastion, the search for the residence did not stop. Of course, as if mocking such efforts, no clues regarding the missing person could be found.

“Lord Lester!”

MacQuan turned toward the sound. The overwhelming fatigue clinging to his sharp eyes could not be erased by any effort. A man who had approached in the meantime gasped for breath for a moment before reporting the search results.

“There are no signs of foreigners residing here. They are all locals.”

“…I see.”

MacQuan nodded with a blank expression. Every time he received the same report, his barely patched-together psyche was carved away steeply and endlessly. While MacQuan’s meager patience hit rock bottom, Larissa Filmore could not let go of hope.

“I beg you. Please check with them. Ask if they have seen any foreigners wandering here in the past few months—people who were injured and wearing military uniforms.”

“The official we met earlier is also a bureaucrat who governs this village. It will not be too late to search after we meet the missionary. I heard they are conducting not only missionary work but also relief activities here.”

Was this powerless voice my own? MacQuan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a sense of dissonance in his own voice. Despite the opposition, the woman did not give up.

“Did you not also confirm during our travels that the local officials have reached a point where they can no longer control the village? Though they may be intoxicated by drugs, the words of the residents living here might be the most accurate. There is a possibility that the official is not aware of the entire situation of the village.”

“…I suppose so. Do as you wish.”

“Yes. I will. So, I hope the Baronet will stop this strange self-pity and spend that time wandering this island a bit more.”

“….”

“I want to believe you did not begin this reckless voyage just to show this side of yourself. First, as the Baronet suggests, let us go to the missionary’s lodging.”

After sharply criticizing his powerless attitude, Larissa set out for the road accompanied by the interpreter. Though she staggered precariously, the woman did not give up, stopping passersby and checking several times. Watching her, MacQuan’s dry lips twitched. The one who grew stronger as they collided with reality was, ironically, the woman from Newcastle.

I want to die.

I must die.

The suicidal impulse, which had been quiet for a while, reared its head again. No. Had it not been said that the Daecheong thinkers traded the token with Philip Hughes here? Then he must be somewhere. As the official said, he might be living while hiding his name and identity. That person might be with him.

Yes, together.

MacQuan slowly felt inside his coat. Only after feeling the cold, stern touch of the muzzle did his anxiety barely subside. The pistol was the final hope that would end all this pain.

While hope and despair alternated, the destination steadily drew closer. As the remaining traces of the sun spread across the entire sky, a gray building appeared in sight.

It was the residence of the French missionaries.

✧ ✧ ✧

“The English soldier who came to us is indeed Philip Hughes.”

“Lord, Lord, oh my God!”

At the words delivered by the missionary with a calm face, Larissa Filmore collapsed on the spot and burst into tears. The voice of the woman calling for God grew agitated. It was the reward for the harsh time she had to endure for several months.

“Was he… was he injured anywhere? Was there any place that hurt…?”

“Due to wandering for a long time, his physical strength was severely depleted, and there were injuries sustained in the process. Ah, of course, fortunately, they were not at a critical level. Proper treatment was also administered.”

“Thank you… thank you…”

Unable to overcome her surging emotions, Larissa buried her face in both hands and sobbed. Her body, thinned by the arduous voyage, shook weakly.

“….”

Unlike the one reacting violently, the other person in the room was enveloped in a silence so deep that not even a breath could be felt. If not for the body moving in time with breathing, it would be difficult to call him a living person.

“Also, regarding the companion you inquired about.”

At the following words, his parched hands rustled with anxiety. The focus of the dark green eyes wavered several times even in a short moment. MacQuan waited for the notification that would immediately follow. Time flowed excruciatingly slowly.

Lord.

Throughout the rough voyage, MacQuan sought the being he had mocked countless times, despised countless times, revered countless times, and begged for mercy countless times. It was time to receive the price for his long waiting.

“Unfortunately, the soldier’s companion was not a noble. He said it was another soldier from a different unit who was on the same ship. The military uniform he wore was different.”

“….”

The twitching fingertips stopped completely. Darkness descended over MacQuan’s eyes.

It was the moment the final thread of hope snapped.

The sounds existing in the world vanished, and the light flickered. All sensations in the body disappeared. The faint breath and the heartbeat stopped completely. His perfectly frozen body would not allow even the smallest breath to escape. It was a dark, severed space where nothing existed.

With his back held straight, MacQuan ignored the missionary, who wore a pitiful expression.

“Lord Lester…”

It was a situation that was not a blessing for everyone. Larissa approached with a grief-stricken face.

“Lord Lester… it is too early to give up.”

“….”

Whispers of no value scattered. Far from answering, even the act of breathing was difficult. His breathing gradually became ragged. Larissa stopped her attempt to comfort MacQuan. She knew that in a state where only despair remained, no comfort could truly reach the heart.

The missionary, unaware of the situation, tilted his head with a puzzled expression at the sudden freezing atmosphere and continued speaking.

“Brother Francis is well aware of the circumstances regarding the companion’s identity, so please verify it with him as soon as he returns. Oh, and the companion’s injuries were severe. His legs were nearly useless, and there were few parts of him that weren’t wounded. He requested asylum, but he was in no condition to endure such a journey. We persuaded Mr. Philip Hughes to cross over to France first, and suggested that the other follow once he had recovered his health to some extent.”

“Go first? Then Philip is…”

The voice asking back trembled with anxiety. Seeing the figure shaking so pitifully, the missionary handed over a thick blanket set aside to one side and shook his head.

“Mr. Philip Hughes agonized over it for a few days and ultimately chose to remain with his colleague. He was a kind-hearted man.”

“Then… then…”

“Both of them are staying at the clinic we manage. My colleague, Francis, is also there now. Unfortunately, the one with the severe injuries has seen a rapid decline in condition recently and is barely conscious. Please, come with me.”

Having finished his explanation, the missionary stood up. Suppressing the joy that made her want to run barefoot right this instant, Lariensa looked up at the man beside her.

“Um… Lord Lester…”

“….”

Despite the missionary standing, MacQuan remained staring only at the empty chair in front of him. His focus was vacant, as if he were looking at someone invisible. Overcome by an inexplicable sense of unease, Lariensa finally lost her patience and gently grasped MacQuan’s arm. Feeling the pull on his body, MacQuan only then slowly turned his head. His face was one where all emotion had vanished.

“Lord Lester…”

At the trembling voice, his dead, blackened eyes gradually returned to reality. MacQuan blinked after a very long time and exhaled after an even longer one. He slowly fumbled at his chest, his hand repeatedly checking for something. It was a desperate movement to keep from losing consciousness.

“Lady Lariensa Filmore.”

MacQuan called Lariensa’s name in a completely dry and cracked voice. Their eyes met. The corners of his frozen lips moved minutely, forming a smile.

“You need not worry. Rest assured. I shall remain with you until the end of this journey.”

MacQuan smiled brightly. Paired with his empty eyes, it was a hollow smile.

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed through the space. The strides, filled with resolute will and emotion, were similar yet entirely different.

“The medical facilities in this country are abysmal. Considering the facilities or treatment systems we have experienced, you might be surprised. It is quite primitive. Out of pity, I managed to persuade a few doctors and medical assistants from my homeland to come, but there are many difficulties.”

Tsking with a face of pity, the missionary gestured toward a person passing through the clinic. Those following him naturally shifted their gaze.

“No matter how lacking, it is still better than the medical facilities run by these primitive and pitiful people. I believe it is our God-given duty to endlessly point out the lacking parts.”

In the voice reciting joy and emotion, a pride that failed to be hidden leaked out. It was a vile sense of superiority wrapped in religion. Normally, he would have scoffed and sharply criticized and despised him in his heart, but he no longer had the strength for that. MacQuan walked along, half-heartedly agreeing with the superiority the missionary rambled about.

You’re still so good at lying.

A mischievous laugh was heard. At the missed voice, a hairline crack appeared on his expressionless face.

You aren’t listening at all.

The lover, who had approached his side unnoticed, whispered. He wanted to say that wasn’t true, but his body, now beyond his control, would not allow him to utter a single word.

You always do nothing but lie.

“….”

White fingers, riddled with cuts, entwined between MacQuan’s fingers. They were cold and rough. It was a hand that had touched marble for a long time, cut by sharp tools, with stone dust mixed into the gaps of cracked wounds. Though the art created by his lover had been entirely destroyed, the traces remained across this entire hand. A hot flame had burned away the vocal cords completely.

“Francis and I are faithfully fulfilling such duties. Lately, we are striving to care for the wounded who came from your country. Of course, God always grants hardship and miracles in turn. Though it may be difficult now, that man will surely overcome it. Do not worry too much.”

“Is it still far to where they are?”

Lariensa interrupted the endless, hollow explanation in a tone that suggested she no longer needed to hear more. The missionary showed a brief flash of displeasure, but soon smiled benevolently with an expression that seemed to understand even that feeling, and pointed to the very last room.

“Oh dear, I have taken up too much time. Both of you must have been very anxious; I apologize for not considering your feelings. We have arrived. It is over there. The treatment room with the best sunlight in this place…”

“Philip!”

Before he could even finish speaking, Lariensa ran toward where the missionary pointed. Even in the short distance of just a few steps, it was a trace of a desperation that could not wait.

“My, well, having searched for so long, it must have been hard to endure even a moment. How deeply he must have been missed and longed for. I understand her.”

The missionary shrugged with an awkward smile.

Instead of answering, MacQuan followed the lines created by the shabby clothes the woman wore. Following her movements toward the infirmary, the folds of her thin blouse fluttered chaotically.

The emotion visible from her slender back was waiting, desperation, and urgency. It was a poignant longing for a love she had yearned for so long.

“Philip, Philip!”

The name Lariensa shouted—both strange and familiar—became sharp bars that crushed MacQuan’s heart. He had no one whose name he could call. This heart was a petty jealousy and a stain of envy toward someone who, unlike himself, still had hope.

“….”

Swallowing dry saliva, MacQuan fumbled his chest again. He confirmed the heavy presence of the pistol in his palm several times. Just a little more, just a little more patience. While repeatedly suppressing the surging suicidal impulse, his mind was on the verge of complete collapse.

Pull the trigger already.

The impatient lover pressed him. Smiling sorrowfully, MacQuan kissed his lover.

Not yet.

I suppose you fear death.

When he carefully refused, the lover frowned and put a Leaf-Cut Tobacco in his mouth. Harsh smoke, smelling of rotting flesh, flowed from between his lips.

After I give that woman one last bit of help, I will go to your side then.

As soon as he answered, the lover finally smiled brightly and permitted him to live.

Very well.

“Philip!”

Meanwhile, Lariensa, who had run to the treatment room, opened the old door without hesitation. Through the gap of the open door, Philip Hughes was visible, standing in an awkward posture. The man in the worn military uniform looked exhausted, but he still held the kindness and goodness he could not discard until the end. He was alive. Confirming her lover’s survival before her eyes, Lariensa threw herself at the man.

“Philip, Philip!”

It was truly a moving reunion.

My patience is not long.

Please wait just a little longer.

Such happiness will never be permitted for you. So, hurry.

Just a little. Please wait just a little longer.

His dry lips twisted.

“Oh, Philip!”

“Who… My, my god… Lariensa?”

Hugging the one who had jumped into his arms, Philip called his lover repeatedly with an overwhelmed expression.

Lariensa, Lariensa. My lady…

At the kind and warm voice, Lariensa, whose heart had been strained to maintain a facade of strength, clung to Philip and sobbed.

“….”

MacQuan stared blankly at the scene. The two lovers seen through the half-open door were as poignant and sorrowful as a scene from a masterpiece painting.

Even at this moment, you are jealousy in such an ugly way.

As if reading his misplaced jealousy and hideous heart, the laughter of Aaron, who walked with him, grew deeper.

“Ugh. My god, my god. Philip, Philip, Philip. You were alive. You were alive… Yes, of course. I believed it. That you were alive, that you would be alive… Ugh, ugh… I’m sorry. Because of me, because of my greed…”

“Lariensa… I didn’t think I would see you alive again… I missed you… so very much…”

The emaciated body of the woman, filled with emotion, gasped heavily. Philip Hughes, who embraced her, also choked up. The longing for each other after such a long time took the form of deep sobbing.

Die here, without fail.

The lover, having lost patience, gave a final warning. The gaze directed at him was too cold. Lifeless eyes stared at the lover. MacQuan shook his head violently. It was a desperate, urgent clinging, sensing that this was the last time, that he would no longer show himself.

“…I understand.”

Whispering words that would reach no one, MacQuan reached for the doorknob. A cold sensation enveloped his entire palm. Cold, like the hand of his lover sunken in the sea. That sea must have been cold too. When he thought of the waves and sea breeze that would freeze even the heart, it was unbearably painful.

He could no longer endure it. With his other hand, he fumbled inside his coat. The pistol muzzle aimed toward MacQuan’s heart. Seeing this, the lover smiled even more radiantly.

Die already, die by your own hand.

“I understand, Aaron.”

Muttering tonelessly, MacQuan barely pushed the door. The remaining door opened. Simultaneously, the tragic soldier, who would be nothing but a flaw in the moving reunion of the two lovers, finally revealed himself. He was a man who, like himself, was a blot on this beautiful fairy tale.

“….”

However.

The moment he entered the room, MacQuan unconsciously stopped breathing.

It was a most peculiar experience.

A perfect silence where time and space had vanished. A sensation entirely different from the despair and shock he had experienced numerous times. In an absolute stillness where not even a single breath was permitted, MacQuan slowly blinked. As the fog obscuring his vision dispersed, a person appeared. The figure of someone more unfamiliar than anyone, yet more familiar than anyone.

“…Aaron?”

MacQuan frowned slightly, his eyes showing that he did not understand the situation. Then, he slowly took in the man lying on the old bed, looking much like a corpse.

Platinum blonde hair, as if the stars of a dark night had been crushed and sprinkled.

Features composed of delicate lines, as if brushed ten thousand times.

Skin so transparent it seemed it might vanish.

Eyes tightly closed.

Eyes tightly closed.

The unmistakable scent of death.

The moment he gauged the man’s identity, MacQuan let out a laugh that resembled a sob. It was clear that God was pushing him to the extreme and testing him. Simultaneously, his completely broken heart rattled with noise.

MacQuan.

A dark blue puddle slowly spread beneath his feet. MacQuan recalled the memory of running through the back alleys of Camden Town with his young sibling on his back. The small, young body that stiffened as time passed, the vomit and blood spread across the back, the stench filling the narrow alley.

He knew the aura of death better than anyone.

MacQuan.

At the arrogant voice, the tips of his limp fingers flinched for an instant. The sound was heard, but the lover remained asleep. With an expressionless face, MacQuan scratched his entire ear. Unpleasant red lines were drawn across his white skin.

MacQuan.

“Stop it.”

His dry lips parted. His voice, heavily hoarse and pressed, was wretched. A tinnitus that tore through his eardrums invaded his mind. For the first time since reuniting at Briston House, MacQuan ignored the lover calling him and walked slowly into the room. His slightly parted lips trembled.

“Aaron.”

At that moment, a black mass blocked his path.

“Who are you? This person is still a patient!”

“Baronet, why are you doing… E-Earl!”

“Someone please stop this man!”

“Lord Lester, Lord Lester!”

“You mustn’t do this, Lord Lester.”

“Listen to me.”

The voices of an old man, a young woman, or a young man intertwined chaotically. There was no way to distinguish if it was real or a hallucination. MacQuan clicked his tongue but did not respond to the calls.

“Move…”

Among them, someone tried to stop him and pull him back, but such a trivial attempt could not stop the steps toward his master.

“Move!”

Recalling the memory of driving out intruders from Briston House, MacQuan used all his strength to shake off and push aside the obstacles.

The result was excellent.

After a long commotion, he succeeded in driving all the unwelcome guests out of the room. After locking the bolt, MacQuan turned his back without regret. He heard the loud sound of knocking on the door, but he ignored all the noise.

Exhaling a short breath, his steps back toward the bed were somewhat hurried. It did not take long to reach the bedside.

“Aaron.”

MacQuan called his lover in a low voice. Of course, there was no answer.

“Aaron?”

It was strange. Even after calling several more times, the lover remained still and silent.

“You’re still mischievous.”

The voice, which had been composed as if he were calm, quickly collapsed. Until just before entering here, the lover had persistently demanded that he die, yet upon the request to wait just a little longer, he was now struggling in an even more spiteful manner. Of course, the lover had made a legitimate demand. It was merely a matter of timing.

“I trust you didn’t think such a play would be amusing.”

As he muttered, MacQuan’s expression grew even gloomier. His entire facial muscles lost control and twisted. It was clear that someone was manipulating his body at will. Forcing away the black monster that clung tenaciously, MacQuan leaned his upper body over to see the heartless lover who was lying on the bed and deceiving him. A faint sound of breathing was heard. He was still alive.

“Stop the joke. Are you acting out because I didn’t die immediately? Didn’t I already promise you? That I would die after bringing you safely to England. …I promised. Do you still not trust me?”

His hesitating fingertips touched the dry back of a hand. Startled by the eerily gaunt feeling, MacQuan still could not let go of the hand that was nothing but bone. He was afraid of the sensation touching his fingers. Because the sensation was too vivid to be a hallucination, he unconsciously knelt.

“Aaron. Is it really you?”

MacQuan called his lover tenderly with a sincere voice. It was a warm and gentle tone.

“Or is even this a fantasy created by opium.”

As the distance closed, a faint sound of breathing could be heard. MacQuan knelt on one knee and rested his forehead on the scar-filled back of the hand. It was strange. The hand had always been cold, but now warmth flowed through it. It was a sensation so vivid it felt real. Even though it couldn’t be. Even though it couldn’t be.

“Aaron. Open your eyes.”

Carefully touching the tightly closed eyelids, MacQuan smiled weakly. He could not see the eyes that resembled the sea. No matter how desperately he called and tried, that brilliant color would not appear. Despite the call of a pitiful dog, his master would never open his eyes.

“Aaron.”

Muttering tonelessly, MacQuan rubbed his cheek against Aaron’s hand again. He blinked quietly. The touch felt exactly real. He exhaled a short breath and whispered.

“It… feels like the real thing, not a hallucination. Yes. You really seem like yourself.”

It must be a hallucination.

It must be a fantasy created by opium, but why on earth.

Why on earth…

He wanted to shake him awake, but it was impossible. Even in a fantasy, he had no such right.

“Aaron, Aaron…”

The loyal dog called his master several times in a low tone. With a heart so poignant and aching, as if the only word he knew was that name.

“You’re sleeping for too long.”

The sleeping one’s lips were parched and tightly closed. He should have been criticized, despised, or cursed for being a lowly person who dared to utter such a noble name, but the only response that returned was silence.

“You’re sleeping for too long…”

MacQuan examined the hand he was holding in detail. It was filled with scars to the point that it was hard to believe it was the hand of the heir to the most powerful ducal house in England. MacQuan recalled the wondrous sculptures this hand had created. That flamboyant and majestic art that was passionate, tinged with madness, and gave shape to dreams. He also remembered the moment that detailed and fragile soul was ruthlessly trampled.

Ah.

MacQuan trembled all over and bowed his head obliquely. A misery that could not be voiced dominated him. His handsome face distorted messily, and his dark brown eyelashes trembled thinly.

Thump, thump—

[Lord Lester! Please open the door!]

The shouts of those cast out of the room did not subside. MacQuan remained completely unresponsive to any attempt at persuasion. He simply curled himself up tight, taking deep, distant breaths to endure the pain. Only when his heartbeat finally calmed did he open his mouth again.

“Master.”

A desperate plea squeezed through his lips. The touch of his hand stroking the withered skin was profoundly earnest. His touch reached the hideous scar that sliced diagonally from the index finger of his right hand across the remaining fingers and palm.

“……Master.”

MacQuan knew the origin of this scar better than anyone. Fragmented, agonizing scenes forced their way into the gaps of his memory. A lavish mansion, a long gallery, a torn painting, a vast snowfield, the sound of a shot brutally tearing through the sky, and red bloodstains spreading across the white snow.

“……Please, wake up now.”

Why had he not known then that all of it was a punishment bestowed upon a foolish dog?

The foolish dog spent a long time reverently kissing every joint of his noble master’s long, white fingers. Each time a fingertip touched his lips, a black poison spread rapidly.

“I have come.”

His dried-out eyes twitched.

“Your dog……”

Tears were the token of the defeated. Evidence of the weak. A misery that could only be possessed by those living at the very bottom.

“Your dog has come……”

He had believed that if there was an injustice or a grievance, one should sharpen their weapons and flip the board to attack instead of weeping and lamenting one’s fate. He had to kill the opponent before he was killed. That was the only way to survive.

Among the types of people he had met in life, those who were affectionate or soft-hearted always ended up dead or defrauded. He decided it was better to be the kind of person who deceived and harmed others than to spend a lifetime being exploited until death. Thus, the English opium merchant lived his life immersed in distortions and sophistry based on narrow experiences.

“I am too late…… it has taken far too long……”

MacQuan could not even bring himself to cry. His breath came in erratic, confused gasps. His brown hair, rubbed carelessly against the sheets, lay in a disheveled mess.

From the moment he touched the vivid scar etched across the hand, MacQuan already knew.

The man before him was not a hallucination. He could not be a phantom.

This man was the one he had searched for so desperately.

He couldn’t be a phantom.

You were here, alive and whole.

“I can chop firewood now……”

His voice, trailing off in intervals, trembled miserably. Conversely, his grip on the hand tightened further.

MacQuan lifted his head again and carefully examined his master. He was more gaunt than in his memories; his cheeks were sunken and the area beneath his eyes was dark, yet he could not hide his characteristic elegance. No matter how many times he looked, no matter how many times he verified, he was his lover. He was Aaron Wizfeldon. Realizing this fact made the bridge of his nose sting and his throat tighten.

“I can cook, too……”

The old bed shifted into the Spencer family’s red chaise longue, and the worn clothes transformed into a sophisticated, high-end suit. The platinum blonde hair, which had grown long enough to cover his eyes, was now neatly trimmed, making him stand out even more. Even there, you had your eyes closed.

Though you despised and mocked me, smelling of the foul scent of opium, those languidly curved eyes were so beautiful.

So beautiful.

……That I could not look away.

MacQueen laughed as if sobbing, taking in the sight of the unconscious noble gentleman. Then, he slowly traced the aura of death that stained his lover’s fluid face. The precariously hanging emotions finally turned into tears, warming the rims of his eyes.

“I can even make a bedding of herbs for you.”

Even if it wasn’t as lavish as before, no matter what form you took, you were my master.

No matter how you were wounded, defaced, or broken.

Aaron Wizfeldon was MacQueen Lester’s master, and he was Theodore’s master.

“So, come back.”

The dog whispered in a desperate voice. He caught a scent from somewhere. It was a mixture of oranges and grass.

“To our forest.”

The face of the dog, who remembered the green woods, distorted. He recalled his master, who had been happy while carving marble in the quiet forest. Compared to his genius sculpting skills, his painting wasn’t particularly great, but even that was lovely.

“To our……”

The heat flowing from his eyes drenched his cheeks, nose, lips, and chin. He loved your instability, your fastidiousness, your fierceness, and your cruelty. He loved that childlike brutality. He loved your broken heart and mind that could not think like a normal person.

You were a strange person. You were thoroughly broken and deficient in some way. It broke his heart to see that, and he vowed to stay by your side forever. Not knowing how lightly and fleetingly that vow would vanish.

“To our cabin……”

Huu— huu— haha— hahahaha— Finally unable to bear the pain spreading through his chest, the dull dog buried his face in both hands and wailed.

Come back. His wet cheeks trembled.

Come back. The beast-like howling grew louder.

Come back. Come back. To that forest where we were together.

Return to that silent and peaceful space that belonged only to the two of us.

To that place where no one could disturb us, where no one could intrude.

To that place where we were everything to each other.

To that sole and perfect sanctuary that filled the deficiencies each of us held.

As if mocking the man’s despair, the sunset that covered the entire sky poured into the room through the arched window. The red sunlight crept in, lingering over the brown hair dampened by cold sweat. It was an intense red, just like that day long ago, strong enough to burn away both soul and memory.

An immeasurable amount of time passed. Something approached the bedside of the one who had been lying prostrate and wailing for a long while.

Tap—

It was a faint sensation, devoid of any strength. Between the fingers that tapped lightly, the hair holding the sunset was softly entwined.

“…….”

The body, which had been breathing irregularly in a curled position, flinched. It was a familiar touch. MacQueen knew this sensation well. Whenever his lover smoked opium or Leaf-Cut Tobacco, he would lightly tap the nightstand with his remaining hand. Slowly but delicately, as if pressing keys on a keyboard. He could no longer count how many times he had glanced at that elegant movement.

“……A, ron?”

The wretched dog did not miss the moment of miracle. He barely swallowed his breath and slowly lowered the hands covering his face. His field of vision widened. The figure of the longed-for person looking at him appeared. It was a moment where time stopped.

“…….”

A silence flowed where they only gazed at each other, with no words exchanged. MacQueen simply stared at the man before him with a dazed expression. It was the lover who spoke first.

“It is as red as the sun.”

The lonely sound of laughter was so faint that it could hardly be heard unless one listened closely.

“…….”

He should have said that he had regained his memories, that he had been your dog, and that he remembered the days he loved you, but for some reason, no words came out. Far from words, not a single finger moved according to his will. The dazzling eloquence he had used to deceive and bewitch people was useless in this moment. He simply remained as stiff as marble before his lover breathed life into him.

“……I know a flower that resembles this color.”

I saw it during the journey to Grand Tour.

Despite being only a few words, the exhausted voice grew lower and slower. It was a parched voice, devoid of strength, yet the accent and pronunciation were noble, and the words used were refined.

His lover’s words were like a song passed down from ancient times. MacQueen listened intently to the voice that held no resentment, no hatred, and no emotion.

“……It was beautiful, but.”

It was a hazy gaze wandering through a fantasy. The dog patiently waited for the words to follow. Even in that moment, the hot tears did not stop.

“It was the flower of death……”

“Aaron……”

The eyes that resembled the spring sky he had longed for even in his dreams now held no one. The heat that burned in midsummer had surely sent his lover to a distant past or a distant future.

“Theodore.”

Aaron’s eyes curved into a round shape. The smile etched upon his sickly face was not the usual sneer or the habitual mockery. The fatigue-drenched smile lingered for a while.

“…….”

MacQueen still could not say a word, only staring at his master. Tears flowed endlessly. After a moment of labored breathing, his dry lips opened again.

“……You have finally come all this way to kill me……”

Looking at the grim reaper who had come to him from across the distant sea, Aaron smiled faintly.

Aaron Wizfeldon had thought that if he were to die one day, he would either lose his mind completely and take his own life, or die at the hands of his father, who had become a mad monster. If not that, he would kill his father first. It was none of the cases he had anticipated, but this end wasn’t so bad.

“It’s not bad.”

With that short impression, Aaron let out a long sigh.

How funny.

You were always emotional. To an incomprehensible degree.

Your justice was shabby yet blind, vile yet brave. I was more drawn to the duality a single person possessed. I liked that pure evil of yours.

Our memories were rotting, foul-smelling trash, but what did that matter?

Since only two people existed in that forest, that was enough.

“Yes, it’s not bad at all.”

His slowly blinking eyes finally succumbed to drowsiness and closed completely. Within his receding consciousness, a desperate wail lingered in his ears. He wanted to sneer at that pathetic sight, but his eyelids, which kept sinking, were incredibly heavy.

After a long journey, silence and peace finally found him.

Slam—!

The old door opened noisily. Philip Hughes and Lariensa, who had been sitting exhausted after knocking on the door for hours, could not hide their horror at the scene revealed. It was because they saw who MacQueen Lester was holding.

“What on earth is the meaning of this……”

“We must leave this place immediately.”

Whispering in a dry voice, MacQueen immediately rushed toward the stairs. It happened in an instant. Those who belatedly grasped the situation rose in shock.

“Lord Lester!”

Lariensa hurriedly followed behind. Anxious footsteps echoed throughout the staircase.

“What are you doing! Lord Lester, I understand you are shaken, but the Earl is in a state where absolute stability is required.”

“…….”

Despite the earnest persuasion, the man remained silent. Contrary to his desolate gaze, desperation followed him like a shadow. Lariensa’s breathing grew ragged as she struggled to keep up with his large strides.

“Get a grip, Baronet. If you go like this, the Earl will die. He must stay here and receive treatment.”

“Treatment? Here?”

Though he answered indifferently, his pace did not slow.

“……Earl!”

At that moment, Aaron’s thin hand and sickly face, now outside the sheets, entered Lariensa’s field of vision one after another. Though it was a mere formality, he was a partner with whom she had maintained an engagement for several years. Lariensa hurriedly turned her head away, unable to bear the sight of his condition. Everything the man said was true. The treatment environment was poor, and even prolonging his life was uncertain.

“……The Earl cannot endure a voyage that takes nearly two months in his current state. You know that. I heard he hasn’t regained consciousness for nearly fifteen days due to a high fever. At least the fever must go down……”

“Enough.”

The words, cut off sharply, lingered in the void. The body held in his arms swayed along with his fast pace.

“Do not assume the medicines provided here are of high quality. This is not a situation that can be treated with such crude medicine.”

“Why don’t you realize that attempting a forced schedule while his physical strength is already depleted is a greater risk!”

Only when she finally managed to obstruct him did MacQueen come to a complete halt. Cold gazes locked precisely at a certain point.

“The doctors who accompanied the fast ship are all the best doctors in England, procured by Sir Caliven Wisfield. Furthermore, I have brought excellent medicines, anticipating various situations. While the treatment environment on the ship may be poor, it is not significantly inferior to this place. If he is to die during the voyage……”

A heavy sigh pierced through the breathless air.

“……He won’t be able to endure long here either.”

MacQueen cast his gaze obliquely downward and closed his mouth. Soon, a pain that felt like his entrails were being sliced pierced through his entire body. Despite being his own words, an uncontrollable surge of emotion hit him.

“Lady Lariensa. Unlike the noble you, I, a lowly man, have lived my whole life making choices on the edge of a cliff. At the very least, the choices I made whenever my life was on the line were never wrong. It is the instinct of a beast that rose from the bottom. Therefore, I will not waste any more time here.”

“Did you not hear what the missionaries said before you arrived? If his basic strength is recovered, it won’t be too late to move then. My heart aches and I feel guilty seeing the Earl’s condition, but……”

“Would you be speaking the same way if this person were Sir Philip Hughes?”

“Lord Lester!”

Glancing at the horrified woman, MacQueen gave her a cold look.

“If not, do not stop me any further. If anyone stops me, I will kill them, I will kill myself, and I will take the Earl’s life as well. Wouldn’t that be better than dying in a place like this anyway?”

The man, who had been momentarily self-deprecating, had returned to a cold and expressionless face. For a moment, blade-like gazes clashed.

MacQueen pulled his lover deeper into his embrace. The body, limp and exhaling weak breaths, offered not even a small resistance. His heart swirled in the middle of a storm, to the point where he even missed the habitual malice.

“Whether you two take the ship back with me or stay here and leave for France, I will not stop you. So, please move aside immediately. There is not enough time. Neither for me, nor for this man.”

“……It is a reckless choice. Think again. To answer belatedly, I would have stopped you just the same even if it were Philip.”

At the last powerless suggestion, MacQueen gave a short laugh and shook his head.

“No.”

The ecstatic time was too short.

The emotions I showed you were nothing but lies.

Recalling memories from long ago, MacQueen slowly steadied his breathing. The only master who had dominated him was dying moment by moment. He could not waste any more time.

“No matter what is chosen, death is the closest. What other alternative is there?”

MacQueen passed the woman, who wore a vacant expression, and quickly descended the stairs. His footsteps toward the entrance were urgent and loud. Finally, he was free. Now, no one would be able to stop him and his lover. The green eyes filled with pain were once again colored with ecstasy.

Now, no one can stop us.

No one.

“Wait for me.”

His dry lips moved.

“……Just wait a little longer.”

Adjusting his hold several times as the body kept slipping, MacQueen stepped outside the building. The air was extremely humid, and the entire sky was filled with dark clouds. Taking advantage of the gap, thin streaks of rain fell on his head and shoulders. At the worsening weather, MacQueen finally spat out a harsh curse.

“The carriage……”

His eyes, scanning the surroundings, were clouded with confusion. Although people and scenery were clearly visible, his vision felt distant, and the carriage was nowhere to be seen. His anxious eyes flickered here and there. In that brief moment, his hair became damp with rainwater. MacQueen wrapped his entire body around his lover, fearing he might get hit by even a bit of rain.

“The carriage is……”

Raindrops falling on his eyelids trailed down in arcs.

“Where is the carriage……”

The damp rain flowed over his cheeks like tears. MacQueen knew that his urgency was breaking his reason and worsening the situation, but there was no way to stop it. Trembling with pale lips, he wandered around incessantly.

“The carriage……”

The way he muttered the same words over and over was like that of a madman. Once again, a fear of unknown origin crept up. It was a familiar fear. Memories from a long time ago, when he had a more human-like heart and mind than now, mingled in his head.

“Just endure a little longer. We can just go to the hospital. Okay?”

While your small body was turning cold and stiff, what had I been doing?

“I brought a lot of money. Enough to pay for the treatment and still have some left.”

Yes.

I stole someone’s money to get the treatment fees. It was a man dressed sophisticatedly in a deep gray coat. Since it wasn’t his first time stealing, he felt no remorse. Rather, he justified it boldly. He consoled himself by saying the man was rich so it was fine, while simultaneously feeling a petty sense of victory for having tricked a haughty gentleman.

“Does it still hurt? Are you sleepy? You’re not talking because you’re sleepy, right?”

Would it have been different if I had looked at your face one more time in the morning when you said your stomach hurt? If I had listened to your request not to go out, would you have lived a bit longer? If you had lived, would I have become a proud person with a conscience?

‘No.’

Sneering at the surging emotions, MacQueen shook his head.

‘Even if that hadn’t happened, I would have chosen the same path.’

It was a supposition far too leaned toward emotion. Assumptions regarding a past that had already ended provided no help in resolving the current situation. Every choice that had led him here had been of his own will. While the choices he had made along the way might have been influenced by external environments, they were the result of his innate habits and character combined.

Suppressing the urge to give up on everything, MacQuan searched for the carriage once more. Only after running around for a long while did he discover two old carriages waiting on the edge of the road.

“The carriage…”

The moment he identified his destination, MacQuan sprinted at full speed. In the meantime, the rain mixed with a cold wind and whipped more violently, but nothing could stop him. Fearing that his lover’s body temperature might drop further, he tightened his grip on the person in his arms.

This is your sin.

A wicked voice whispered. The filthy and vicious opium merchant brazenly held his head high.

It is your sin. The price of your sin. You shall spend your life writhing in pain and tormented by guilt, facing your sins.

His steps were desperately hurried. A dry, brittle laugh spilled from him repeatedly.

“He’s alive.”

His breath scattered in every direction and his body collapsed several times, but his speed did not diminish. The distance of a mere few yards felt longer and further than eternity.

“He’s still… alive.”

Even while drenched in rain, he shouted with a smile, like a man who had lost his mind. He is alive. He is still alive. The sin is not yet over. Because it is not over, I need time to beg you to absolve me of all my sins.

Clatter—

“Who… Ah, have you finished your business…”

The interpreter, who had been welcoming the employer suddenly entering the carriage, froze. The man was soaked through with rain, staring at him with piercing eyes. Before the interpreter could grasp the situation, the intruder dragged him out of the carriage.

“Tell the driver. Depart for the harbor immediately.”

“T-the harbor? Going there isn’t a problem, but with this weather, sailing will be impossible…”

Recalling the countless unreasonable demands he had faced, the interpreter could not hide his anxiety.

“I have no intention of forcing a departure, so just tell him to go to the harbor now. You wait here and then bring the lady and her party.”

“What? Now?”

“Hurry!”

His eyes flashed fiercely, as if he would not tolerate a single wasted second. It was a gaze that was both intimidating and chilling.

“A-alright…”

The hesitating man finally stepped out of the carriage and ran toward the driver’s seat.

“Whew…”

In the sudden return of silence, MacQuan leaned down as if collapsing and embraced his lover. Everywhere their skin touched felt as if it were burning. His lover was breathing—faintly, but certainly. As a momentary peace settled in his heart, his eyelids grew heavy. Drowsiness washed over him. The fatigue that had persisted for months, his mental state, and his broken body—everything had reached its limit.

[…It’s impossible. …It won’t work…]

[We can’t help it either… the reward… if we go to…]

[With silver…]

A conversation of bargaining continued for a moment. Whether a satisfactory amount had been paid, the sound of a whip rang out loudly shortly after. The wheels began to rattle and turn in accordance. Fearing that his lover might be hurt inside the swaying carriage, MacQuan hugged Aaron even tighter.

It is your sin.

“…Shut up.”

Your sin shall meet a grand and miserable end.

“Shut up, shut up.”

MacQuan shook his head repeatedly at the malicious voice piercing his ears. His eyes, containing nothing but venom, shone harshly.

Rattle, rattle.

Damp air spread wide beneath the dark clouds. The rain-soaked ground was constantly muddy. It was bad weather. At this rate, an immediate departure was impossible. The hands clutching his lover trembled with anxiety.

Whoa—

The driver whipped the reins more urgently. As the carriage’s speed toward the harbor increased, the neighing of horses echoed sporadically along the deserted roadside.

“God will help us…”

Leaving the grey sky behind, MacQuan sought the God within him who had already been crumpled and soiled countless times. Amidst the softly scattering breaths, the bridge of his nose rubbed against Aaron’s sunken cheek.

“Of course. He will surely show mercy.”

Even while whispering through sobs, MacQuan blinked repeatedly. No matter how many times he looked and checked, the person held in his arms was Aaron Wizfeldon of Cornwall.

A person he had kissed countless times and whispered love to, but to whom he had never once conveyed his true feelings. The one who shone most nobly at the highest peak. Because he was in a place unreachable, he had been the object of a sinister desire—to drag him down into the filthy gutter where he stood and be with him.

My Earl.

…My master.

“Even if that God does not love me, would He not love you?”

His lips, whispering low, trembled. He lowered his upper body a bit further. Through the bodies locked together in despair, he felt a faint heartbeat. The scent of rain clung to the skin. A precariously hanging droplet fell through the eyelashes and onto the cheek.

“He will absolve my sins. He will… He will save you.”

The futile whisper scattered into the air. Hot tears mixed with rainwater stained his lover’s pale cheek. Everything that composed him was filthy and hideous.

“Of course. Is He not a merciful one?”

Despite MacQueen Lester’s desperate wish, God did not grant mercy to the wicked. The rain clouds covering the entire harbor they barely reached and the rough waves mocked the sinner, sneering that all these results were his fault. It took another two days before the fast ship from the invading nation raised its anchor to return.

Two days.

It was enough time to push a person to their psychological limit. During those two days, the shameless opium merchant sought God and resented God countless times; he begged for forgiveness and then cursed again; he hoped for grace while committing sins, and shamelessly hoped those sins would be absolved. It was indeed a punishment fitting for a brazen plunderer.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Sir Caliven Wisfield!”

At the sound of a voice nearby, Caliven stopped his walk through the lobby. The figure approaching quickly was Gordon Baillyn, who until a moment ago had been leading the Conservative side in proposing the bill at the reading.

“Sir Baillyn.”

“Are you returning to Pellynton Hall?”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t mind, how about joining the club gathering this evening? They mentioned wanting to discuss further the things they couldn’t finish at today’s reading.”

Caliven shook his head with an awkward smile.

“Unfortunately, the Duke’s condition is not good today, so I must return immediately. I also have matters to settle regarding Rodinton.”

“Oh dear.”

A look of embarrassment crossed Gordon Baillyn’s face. He was recalling the problems facing the House of the Duke of Cornwall: the Duke, who had been unable to rise from his bed for over a year, the disappearance of the heir, and the issue of settling the Rodinton business. The cotton business had long been in decline, but the Royal Family had been deferring the overarching responsibility. Leaving the uncomfortable silence behind, the two men walked slowly toward where the four-wheeled carriage was waiting.

“The Duke of Cornwall really ought to recover soon.”

“I hope so, but it is not easy.”

“If one has faith, miracles will happen at any time.”

“I hope so too, Sir Baillyn.”

Though it was a hollow consolation, Caliven hid his true feelings behind a pleasant smile. Gordon Baillyn observed his complexion for a moment before changing the subject.

“The war is also nearing its end.”

“Since Minister Palmer has been brought in, I suspect it will be settled more quickly.”

“I am worried that the fighting is dragging on longer than expected. Isn’t the internal and external situation quite absurd? I cannot understand why we must so ruthlessly trample a country whose national system has already collapsed.”

“I agree.”

The end of the war was only a matter of time. However, the domestic economic situation was poor. As the scales of victory tipped, the forces leading the war attempted to shake the Conservative Party to deflect responsibility for the economic weakening. The House of Cornwall Wizfeldon, where both the head and the heir’s positions were vacant, was a perfect target. No matter how hard he tried, Caliven Wisfield’s position as a mere proxy had its limits.

“Where else could there be such an unpleasant and uncomfortable victory? I do not know how great a result the newly replaced Foreign Secretary will bring, but the thought of people shouting about a war as if it were an achievement makes my blood boil.”

“It is because the desires and objectives were not transparent from the start.”

While lost in thought, laughter from the chapter where the reading had ended spilled into the lobby. Caliven looked toward the sound. Most were members of the House of Commons belonging to the Whig Party, but at the head of the group was the Duke of Devonshire, a member of the House of Lords. Looking at the old Duke, who had observed the reading and lent strength to the Whigs, Caliven let out a hollow laugh.

“Those who truly deserve punishment are laughing over there, while the Duke of Cornwall is…”

Unable to finish the thought, Caliven responded with a bitter expression. Nowhere in Devonshire’s appearance could one find any trace of the gloom from the funeral a few months ago.

Caliven superimposed the image of his father lying in a sickbed over the face of the boisterously laughing Duke of Devonshire. What was the difference? He knew that the intentions of his father, who had cried out against the war and the dispatch of troops, were not based on unconditional justice. Rather, the distorted sense of superiority the Duke of Cornwall possessed was a monster by another name.

“Unless one is God, how could every situation be controlled?”

“That may be so, but seeing that brazen look makes a foul feeling rise within me. Even though the ones he used as proxies have all been cut off, his head remains stiff.”

“Is the momentum of the Whig Party not still great?”

“Who in all of London does not know that Klaus Diugen was the Duke of Devonshire’s largest source of funding? One representative disappeared and another committed suicide, so I thought the tide would turn early, but… now that the end of the war is near, the atmosphere has reversed so instantly that it’s almost laughable.”

“…It certainly feels as though it has shifted significantly.”

“Just wait and see, Sir Caliven Wisfield. Even if they win the war, it will be a superficial victory, not a true one. The long-term profits we will gain from this loathsome trade war do not have a bright outlook. Only those desperate for immediate gain will hand the devil’s flower to the primitive and pitiful, stealing their pittance. We have already lost our dignity. We should be ashamed.”

Caliven nodded, recalling the events that had occurred at Klaus Diugen a few months ago. A few months after Baron Enfield disappeared, Robert Higgins, another representative of Klaus, chose a drastic end.

Many were puzzled by the choice Robert Higgins made, given that the tide toward the pro-war faction was not so desperate. Some whispered conspiracy theories that Devonshire had manipulated things to clean up the opium lobby scandal and shift the responsibility. The inner workings were something that would remain unknown forever unless the party involved spoke. In that moment, a certain scene slowly flashed through Caliven’s mind.

“…….”

Caliven remembered another man who had presented him with the worst possible option. His gaze, staring at Buckingham Palace in the distance, gradually became stained with regret.

“If he cannot be found, he will not return, and even if God shows mercy and he is found…”

“I shall leave England forever.”

Had he been found?

Or had they died together?

He was certainly a man who had left of his own will. However, Caliven was always tormented by the fact that he had sent him away by shifting responsibility onto another. The man, who had sent news sporadically, had stopped sending even short messages at some point. Perhaps the man had given up on finding his brother. He was simply pinning all his lingering attachment and hope on the fact that the man’s fast ship had not yet returned to England.

“Klaus is finished. It is a pity for Baron Enfield personally, but even if he returns, a comeback will be difficult. The Garaway Merchants Association is condemning MacQueen Lester and calling for his expulsion every day, are they not?”

A voice mixed with contempt broke through his reverie. In the eyes of the opium merchant he had seen last, there had been no lingering attachment, no desire. Even if that man returned to London, it was hard to expect him to return to Westminster. While he hesitated, not knowing how to answer, Gordon Baillyn continued calmly.

“That part will actually work in our favor. Baron Enfield was certainly the Duke of Devonshire’s largest source of funding. Even if he turned his back on Klaus at the last moment, the blow will be significant. Her Majesty the Queen is monitoring Lord Lenzdoor’s movements. The opium lobby conducted together by the House of the Duke of Devonshire will not be buried. They are certainly accomplices.”

He was a man who had let go of the string connected to Klaus Diugen at the decisive moment. Despite wielding the big players of the opium business for years under the pretext of marrying Elisha Lenzdoor, the time it took to cut them off was a mere few months.

How many had been played by those fast and greedy calculations? Caliven remembered the cowardice of the Duke of Devonshire, who, even amidst the opium scandal or the critical public opinion regarding the early war, had always cut off his tail and pretended not to know at crucial moments.

“There are rumors that he is contacting the Birdfield Company behind the scenes. It may not be so optimistic. Regardless of the war’s outcome, the stagnation of the opium trade flow within London is a fact.”

“I am cautious about saying this in the face of another’s suffering, but it may be a better direction for the greater good. It is right for warmongers crazed for gold and opium to disappear.”

“…Indeed.”

It was a blunt assessment. While agreeing with those words, Caliven could not easily respond. Both the state and the parliament were those who had participated in the wicked filth. That was why he felt neither proud nor clean, but ashamed. While he resented the man who played the biggest role in bringing down both his father and brother, he also felt that his own double-sided heart—and that of the Royal Family and nobility—was hideous for feeling relieved by shifting all responsibility onto one individual.

Caliven did not forget the baseness of Cornwall, which had been inflicted upon MacQueen Lester not as a member of the Westminster Parliament or England’s worst opium merchant, but as a human being. Were they not both equally filthy and despicable? With a heavy heart, Caliven murmured in a deeply sunken voice.

“In truth, no one will escape responsibility. Not I, nor my house, nor the parliament and the Royal Family.”

“…Pardon? Ah, oh dear. The wind was too strong, and I couldn’t hear you. Would you say that again?”

“No, I was talking to myself. They are coming this way; let us go first.”

The conversation ended amidst an awkward smile. The gaze looking at the Thames River flowing leisurely in the distance was utterly exhausted and lonely.

✧ ✧ ✧

Currents resembling a storm crashed violently against the hull repeatedly. Under the attack of the tumultuous sea, the fast ship entrusted itself to the direction of the waves. Those who had spent their lives with the sea knew that defying the laws of nature led only to death. The weather, which shifted several times a day, made it difficult to guess the season.

“It would be better to take a safer route, even if it takes a bit longer.”

As the captain advised, MacQuan’s expression darkened further. Vowing several times that he must remain calm, MacQuan recalled the routes he had traversed countless times in his head. After pausing to choose his words, he asked again.

“Tell me how much of a delay you expect.”

“I expect about a week.”

“Hmm…”

Light cast over a face deep in thought. Conflicting dilemmas clashed fiercely.

Despite the efforts of many, there were no signs of Aaron’s condition improving. Even if the critical moment had passed, there was clearly some grave problem since he had not properly regained consciousness for over ten days. Lost in agony, MacQuan finally spoke after a long while.

“I understand. Let us take the route you suggested.”

The moment permission was granted, the captain breathed a sigh of relief in his heart. This was because he recalled the stubbornness and tantrums the man had thrown over the past few months. The return voyage was an arduous journey for all of them.

Carefully closing the door, MacQuan headed toward the spot where he always sat.

“…….”

The space submerged in darkness was eerie. His body, which had paused for a moment, moved slowly. He placed the newly brought oil on the table and checked the lamp’s condition and the remaining oil. The silhouette, appearing and disappearing amidst the dim light, was so precarious and drenched in fatigue that it would not have been strange if he had collapsed on the spot.

“Have you waited long?”

Within the narrow space, a lonely, murmuring voice echoed.

“You are a bit late today.”

With strengthless movements, MacQuan unbuttoned his vest, pulled over a chair from the corner, and sat down. In the deep night, silence flowed for a long time. His melancholy eyes moved slowly.

“The weather is not good. It took some time because I was debating whether it would be safer to arrive a bit late.”

The touch of his hand massaging his lover’s limp, strengthless hand was sorrowful. He softly kissed the fingertips where scars remained.

His lover had always kept his hands hidden inside black gloves. Once, he had thought it odd that he didn’t wear the white gloves typical of a gentleman. It took far too long for him to realize that the reason was to hide the blood that stained them, as the wounds never seemed to heal.

“I had a dispute with the captain regarding the route, but the atmosphere wasn’t serious. After some thought, I accepted the captain’s suggestion. I couldn’t let my stubbornness cause a problem for you. In the past, I would have pushed for a faster route even if it were reckless… but things are different now. Safety is the priority.”

Despite the lack of response from the other, MacQuan continued the conversation naturally. It was not unusual; since Aaron Wizfeldon had left with the negotiation delegation, he had engaged in these one-sided conversations more times than he could count.

“Perhaps because I was so stubborn before coming, the captain seemed worried that I might start talking nonsense again. It was quite amusing.”

With a low laugh, MacQuan carefully brushed away the sweat-soaked blond hairs from the forehead, one by one. The corners of his eyes, forced into a smile, trembled. The lover, who once couldn’t stand the touch of others, now didn’t even open his eyes even when his body was touched haphazardly here and there. He felt a phantom sensation of a hot fireball rising from deep within his body.

“Aaron.”

The voice calling the name trembled miserably.

“Are you bored of my stories?”

Are you listening to me? Can you hear me?

In the face of endless silence, MacQuan lowered his waist and checked for his lover’s breath several times. The tip of his sharp nose touched the other’s ear. He checked and checked again. He was alive. A violent whirlpool surged within him.

“The doctor told me that even without consciousness, you might still be able to hear sounds. That you’re just wandering for a while because the fever won’t break. That the treatment is going well… that it’s a miracle you’ve held on this long. Haha, I’ve heard those words so many times. It’s almost difficult to bring up related topics now. Though, that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped asking.”

Despite the desperate whispers, the tightly closed eyelids did not open. A powerless laugh broke out, followed by silence. His lost gaze wandered throughout the room. Repeating the action of gathering and releasing his fingertips weakly, MacQuan slowly continued speaking.

“You once told me. That if you participated in the war, you would die without lasting even half a day. But look. You are still alive now, over a year later. Perfectly fine, like this.”

The hand stroking the hot forehead was cautious.

“Aaron, you were wrong.”

Even amidst the delirium of the fever, the lover did not let out a single moan. It was a truly perfect silence and a perfect punishment.

“Since you won’t say anything anyway, shall I say something?”

Even to the lightly tossed words, there was no answer. The eyes that had been sharp and angular for a lifetime of resentment and inferiority toward the world now curved softly.

“What should I talk about. Hmm… right. To be honest, I never thought I’d be able to watch you sleep to my heart’s content. …Because you could never sleep properly.”

His moist voice traced back to the past.

“It took so long for you to fall asleep… and even when you did, you’d wake up shortly after… some days, I wondered if you ever actually slept at all.”

The touch tracing the protruding bones of the gaunt hand was extremely careful.

“Actually, I was so curious about how you looked while sleeping… that I once pretended to be asleep myself.”

The fingertips, filled with longing, trembled for a moment.

“I thought it would only take a moment, but you couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. Yes, even then, you were reading a book. The sound of the pages turning was so tedious that I wanted to snatch the book away and beg you to please just sleep.”

A heavy laugh dissipated. Whenever he heard the rustle of pages and slow breathing, he would peek through half-closed eyes at his lover concentrating on the text. The gaze, usually so sensitive and sharp, was gentle and relaxed in those moments, making him seem like a different person.

“Can you believe it? I was so sleepy. I kept my eyes closed just to see you sleep once. I’m telling you now, but it was truly pathetic. I was a fool. It’s funny, isn’t it? Yes, laugh at me all you want.”

His broad back heaved faintly. Though he was clearly laughing, the sound was closer to a sob.

“Past the night… only after dawn finally did you fall asleep. I turned off the lamp, but since the dawn was breaking, it wasn’t that dark. Still, feeling anxious, I waited a while longer and opened my eyes…”

His Adam’s apple moved greatly as he swallowed the surging emotions. He felt a phantom sensation of the oil lamp’s light flickering in the wind.

“How peaceful you looked with your eyes closed.”

My chest tightened and I felt suffocated.

I still don’t know why I felt that way just because you closed your eyes.

But in that moment.

It felt as if perfect comfort had arrived.

But you also looked like a dead person.

…So I was scared, too.

The words, broken by intermittent breaths, continued awkwardly. Overwhelmed by emotions crashing in like a tidal wave, MacQuan buried his face in the gaunt hand. A heavy exhaustion weighed him down. He feared the protruding wrist bone of his lover touching his forehead. Even as he tried to force his breathing to steady, his eyes burned hot, rendering the effort useless.

“I didn’t understand why I was so scared back then.”

But.

Just…

Traces of lingering attachment leaked through his trembling voice, along with memories that were pathetic, ugly, and cowardly.

“It was the fear of losing you.”

His cheeks grew wet. Whether he closed his eyes or opened them, Aaron Wizfeldon existed in this space. Even if he didn’t whisper love to him like a hallucination seen during a descent into madness, even if he was more lifeless than a vision, he was certainly alive.

“I was arrogant, having grown accustomed to living my whole life killing my emotions. I admit it.”

The foolish man sought proof every minute and every second that his lover was alive, finding relief and yet repeating his anxiety.

“Because showing one’s heart to others meant death. Those who were affectionate and foolish were always used and then cast out or killed. Men, women, the elderly, the young—everyone. The place where I had to endure and survive was such a place.”

He prayed to a God he had ignored his entire life, and he kissed his lover’s forehead and cheeks countless times. In between, the soft eyelashes repeatedly brushed against MacQuan’s dry cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t want to live like them. I thought it couldn’t be helped if I harmed others to survive. I thought it was enough to succeed even if I committed sins. Cruel nobles and businessmen always lived well without paying a price. I believed that resolve was the truth of my life.”

Worthless tears wet both his and the other’s face. It would be wonderful if he could say even a short word, but not a single moan escaped the tightly closed lips.

“Once… you told me that not all children in the slums make the same choices I did.”

The large hand wiped away the moisture once more. The sound of a laugh in his throat was rough.

“Yes. You were right. Not everyone in a difficult situation makes the same choices as I did or lives the same life. I know there are those who grow up upright even in the same circumstances. Of course, they might carry poverty their whole lives, but some might live honestly and still succeed.”

The laughter stopped for a moment. His boastful, proud face twisted. His gaze, which had been staring at the ceiling, tilted blurrily. The long shadow cast by the lamp looked like the scythe of the Grim Reaper. Terrified that death was approaching, MacQuan hurriedly shielded his lover with his own body. Their touching hearts beat at different speeds.

“You might think I’m horrific. The memories and ties we shared might feel filthy and like hell to you, but…”

MacQuan lowered his head again and repeatedly kissed the lover’s stiff palm.

“I do not regret my filthy choices. No, I do regret them. I regret them from beginning to end. But I do not regret them. For if I hadn’t crawled up that way, I would never have met you. If I had chosen the life of a laborer living honestly day by day, would I have ever had the chance to see your face even once before the moment of death? Would I have been able to hear your voice, or hold your hand once?”

He coaxed and soothed the unconscious man with a voice sweeter than anyone else’s in the world.

“No, I would have died trapped in a chimney while cleaning it, or frozen to death while taking a nap in a cold winter shelter. What a clear profit-and-loss trade this is. But I do regret it. The thought that if you hadn’t met me, if I hadn’t been in that position, you wouldn’t have come this far. I regret it and I do not regret it. Haha, yes. I was always this kind of human.”

Tears fell upon the lover’s cheek once again. Even as he tried to wipe them away with his hand, other droplets fell and spread. There was no shame. There was no way any conscience remained. The corners of his mouth moved faintly. Even while smiling brightly, tears flowed without ceasing.

“Therefore, I will willingly endure this hell given to me and continue to live.”

Wet lips touched cracked lips.

“I know I have no right to say such things.”

The trembling voice soon turned into a sob.

“Because I’ll never be able to say this once you open your eyes…”

I will make sure you return to where you belong, so please endure just a little longer. Please bear it just a bit more. The whispers, soaked in pain, flowed between the pressed lips.

If you’re bored, curse me. You can even hit me. I’m used to that much. Get angry and scream. You can despise me, you can scorn me. Curse me. Hate me, mock me, hate me, and hate me again. Even if you never open your eyes, I will not let you die alone on this cold and lonely sea.

“I love you.”

Despite the lack of response, MacQuan obsessively confessed and begged for an answer. It was a desperate, frantic struggle, as if these were the only words he could possibly say.

“…I love you.”

My love was twisted.

My love was decayed,

My love was distorted,

My love was a punishment,

A plague,

An ordeal,

Ruin,

And a downfall.

In a sinner’s confession, MacQuan brought out all the past memories and emotions he had forcibly cut and crushed, and faced unrefined shame. He wailed, he was sometimes ashamed, sometimes he shouted with brazenness and anger, and sometimes he poured out remorse.

Only when the moon tilted and disappeared into the sea did the sobbing breaths gradually cease.

“….”

In the dawn, after a long time had passed, light returned to the stagnant sea. It was a color resembling waves shattered against rough reefs, but the person asleep beside it would never notice.

✧ ✧ ✧

By the time he returned to Pellington Hall after his private audience with the Queen, the sunset cast long shadows over the spires. Loosening his cravat, Caliven shook his heavy head from side to side.

“As promised, I shall overlook the accounting losses of Rodinton. However, it is difficult to gauge the impact on the English economy if the company were to be liquidated immediately. For now, I have no choice but to deny the request for closure. I am not unaware of the burden the Wizfeldon family must bear, but I ask for your understanding. However, I shall instruct that a support plan using national bonds be devised. Furthermore, the Royal Family will put all its effort into opening new trade routes for cotton textiles.”

“…I am sincerely grateful for the Royal Family’s deep generosity and consideration.”

“I only wish for the Duke of Cornwall’s recovery. Knowing the difficulty of continuing the management of Rodinton, I shall ensure that the sacrifices of the Cornwall and Wizfeldon families are not forgotten, on the honor of the English Royal Family.”

It was a demand disguised as conciliation. The monarch did not hide her desired outcome, pointing to it directly. It was also a warning that the blade aimed at Cornwall and the Tories would never grow dull. She was a cruel and wise woman.

“Not forget the sacrifice, indeed.”

A bitter laugh escaped. The limit had been reached in trying to fill the holes in Rodinton that had persisted for several years. Aaron Wizfeldon had acted as a nominal representative, but ultimately, after his disappearance, the responsibility returned to the agent, Caliven Wisfieldon. It was ironic.

The calm face recalling his brother distorted. The impulse to abandon all wealth, power, and responsibility and run away from the day and night of his life followed Caliven like a foul headache.

‘There is nowhere to run.’

The gentle eyes, recalling the one no longer here, were stained with anguish. Even while descending into madness, his brother could not escape the duties of a noble and an heir. In the past, Caliven had been worried about Aaron’s choice to protect him, yet at the same time, he had been moved.

But looking back, it was a base emotion. He knew now. His brother’s sense of responsibility was merely the choice of someone pushed to the limit, unable to escape the curse laid by Cornwall. He had arbitrarily admired and respected that desperate struggle.

“Is it not because we couldn’t discard a mere family name that everyone is being dragged down?”

It had merely been the remnants of hatred and anger toward Cornwall, whom he couldn’t let go of until the end. Mistaking it for affection, he had clung to that sacrifice, craving protection while strangling him. It was a baseness no different from the father who had inflicted violence his whole life under the pretext of love.

The ghost of Cornwall had eventually ruined the lives of the Wizfeldon family. Like someone who, despite being loyal to the Royal Family and bearing all power and honor, now rotted away in a grand mansion, unable to overcome a frail body. The cursed claws scratched the skin regardless of the target.

“What is this name, that it…”

The monologue, with no one to answer, drifted hollowly. Forcing himself to ignore the lingering fatigue, Caliven stepped out of the carriage. Though it was merely a townhouse, the entrance—more magnificent than luxurious—seemed to beckon the sacrifice supporting this historic residence to enter. As the carriage paused, a waiting footman stepped beside him.

“You have returned, sir.”

“How is the Duke?”

“His coughing has worsened since this morning. His breathing difficulties seem severe, so Dr. Boswell is said to be arriving soon.”

“I see. See to it that the doctor is well attended when he arrives.”

His mind raced. By the King’s command—or rather, a command disguised as one—he was in a situation where he had to operate Rodinton for several more years. A major reorganization was needed, and corresponding funds were required. There was a limit to his personal wealth. His face, contemplating the future, was clouded with agony. He was about to move with his usual lethargic step.

Neigh—

The sound of a horse’s frantic neighing was heard from somewhere. Simultaneously, his movement froze.

“Goodness, what is that…”

“…?”

Caliven turned toward the sound. There was some distance, but the sound of horse hooves, frantic to the point of being wild, was quite loud. Although there was a main road in front of the entrance, it was the townhouse of a Grand Duke, so disturbances around Pellington Hall were extremely rare.

“…Find out what is happening.”

“I shall find out and return.”

The footman quickly ran toward the entrance. All the servants were visibly bewildered.

“….”

The eyes scanning outside the mansion distorted slightly. Though nothing was visible beyond the wall, the noise was growing louder and closer at a rapid pace. He felt a phantom sensation of his hearing becoming unnaturally acute. The sound of reins striking a horse, the neighing, and the hooves. It wasn’t just one horse. The sound grew louder. A certain premonition pierced Caliven’s mind.

A carriage. Yes, it was a carriage.

“What is going on?”

“It looks like a carriage. Uh, wait, what?”

“Is it coming here? Knowing where this is…”

“Oh, what, what is that, my god!”

The footman who had gone to assess the situation and the servants controlling the entrance turned pale. Beyond the iron gates of the entrance, adorned with elaborate decorations, a carriage drawn by two horses was charging toward Pellington Hall.

“What is this, is that person mad?”

“What are they doing? Close the gates, quickly!”

His shaking pupils dilated. A massive premonition struck Caliven’s heart.

A carriage charging toward Pellington Hall. A speed that ignored decorum, etiquette, and common sense. All this irrationality resembled desperation. In that moment, Caliven’s expression crumbled as he realized something. The sound of reins, hooves, neighing, and wheels—everything tangled together—was approaching at a tremendous speed. Without realizing it, Caliven walked toward the manor’s entrance lobby.

No way…

His body, rooted to the ground, staggered. A longing he had forced himself to swallow overflowed beyond his control.

“It’s charging straight at us! It’s not slowing down!”

“What does that matter? Close it quickly!”

“Young Master, you must go inside. That carriage is suspicious!”

No way.

His dry lips parted, and his staggering steps accelerated.

“Stop it!”

Seeing the servant attempting to close the door to prepare for an intruder, Caliven hurriedly waved his hand. Stop. Open the door now. Move. Move, move, move. A rough shout, scraping his vocal cords, fell desperately from his lips. The servants, seeing the head of the house shouting with a look of shock, froze in their tracks. In the meantime, the sound of the horses, unable to withstand the whipping, grew even more violent.

The entire situation flowed statically, like a painting captured on a canvas. The half-closed main gate of Pellington Hall swung wide open, and the two horses, which had been galloping fiercely, barely came to a halt under the coachman’s control. Neigh— The carriage shook violently due to the momentum, but the dust soon settled.

“…….”

Despite the commotion, the carriage door did not open easily. Caliven, who had stopped in front of the carriage, unable to move, finally gripped the handle with a deep yearning.

Please. Please.

Hot tears poured down his cheeks. His body, having forgotten even how to breathe, remained motionless.

“Ah…”

After a long while, Caliven opened the door with a cautious touch. At the scene that appeared immediately, he instinctively sought God.

“Ah.”

Even though the man’s face was covered, Caliven recognized his identity at once. Though the man had become far more gaunt than he was a few months ago, his handsome features and sharp gaze remained the same. The green eyes visible through the cloth covering his face were honed even sharper, shining with an eerie light.

“…….”

In that moment, another man, held in the arms of the man who had overturned his word that he would never return to England, entered Caliven’s field of vision. He was a mess—injured and emaciated. However, no matter how much his appearance had changed, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize his brother. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize the owner of those withered, scar-filled hands.

Oh, Lord.

“……Brother.”

Forgetting all decorum, Caliven stepped closer, shedding hot tears. Over and over, he called out to his brother.

“Sir Caliven Wizfeldon.”

The man whispered, still without stepping out of the carriage. It was a desolate voice, resembling the harsh sands of the desert.

“I have kept my promise.”

The moment he confirmed the single jewel held by England’s filthiest opium merchant, Caliven fell to his knees on the ground.

✧ ✧ ✧

As the sun disappeared beneath the spire, a man arrived in a space where only silence remained. After guiding the man to his room, the long-time secretary left with a stiff expression. For a long time afterward, the man stared silently at the wall.

Creeak—

Creeeak—

The chair creaked, unable to withstand the weight of his leaning body. Long fingers with blunt tips scanned the words and numbers written on the documents. They were the papers Aljef had left behind.

MacQueen flipped through the documents listlessly for a while before leaning his head back. A stuffed deer head high on the ceiling glared down at him. The black eyes, embedded with glass, had long since lost their soul. This was where the final records of someone who had been a colleague and friend for a long time remained.

“He picked a marvelous spot…”

To think it could withstand the weight of an adult male; it was indeed a great piece of work.

“Though I didn’t provide it for that purpose.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. Following the direction of his tilted head, his brown hair, which had grown quite long over the few months, trailed down.

His body, having exhaled a breath like a plague, collapsed forward again. The ledgers and documents scattered on the desk were the traces Robert Higgins had left as the representative of Klaus Diugen. They were also evidence of all the humiliation and betrayal he had suffered. The things he had ignored and the problems he had faced—and despite the hardships, the enormous scale of assets that remained.

The rotten wealth, thrown away as if giving alms to a friend while driven mad by love, had returned to him twofold. It was an ironic case of money calling for more money. Although the issue of loan recovery remained, the company’s financial situation was at a level that would soon be resolved, and this filthy war was even on the verge of victory. Looking only at the results, the situation wasn’t that bad.

Why did he die?

The meaningless question touched the gaps between his cracked lips. Why did he make such a choice?

He didn’t even have the right to resent him. There were many things he could guess. The numerous records left by Robert Higgins were evidence of the resentment and neglect he had endured as the representative of Klaus Diugen.

At the existence of Devonshire, written in an elegant hand, MacQueen chuckled and crumpled the letter. Since enough necessary funds had been squeezed out, the problematic trading company must have been an eyesore to a Duke driven only by greed.

“…….”

In a time of idiocy where he could neither speak nor think, the air, mixed with life and death, strangled him. MacQueen quietly leaned his head back. Then, he covered his face with both hands. A silent rain fell.

My friend.

A family member and colleague who had been with him for a long time.

The one who wasn’t even considered in the final moment.

Robert, we shall fall into hell.

“Haha… ha…”

Hahaha, hhh, ha, ha. The lingering laughter fell onto the expensive carpet. The final image of Robert, who had clung to him until the end, begging him not to leave, circled him like a phantom.

The laughter, piercing from the tips of his toes through his heart, was fiercely sharp and hot. It was heavy and painful, as if telling him to die while embracing that pain. Yet, even amidst the surging guilt, MacQueen knew that if he could turn back time, he would have made the same choice over and over again.

“Thank you.”

Caliven Wizfeldon bowed his head several times toward MacQueen to express his gratitude. His pale face was filled with tears, but at that moment, he had a relieved expression, as if he had shaken off all past bitterness.

“I shall not forget this grace for as long as I live as a human. Also…”

The man had a face that subtly resembled his lover’s, but with bolder lines. MacQueen did not have the courage to face eyes so similar to his lover’s, so he had to avert his gaze.

“Please never meet my brother again. I hope you never cross paths again. I will trust your promise to leave England forever. When my brother regains consciousness…”

After a short silence, the man drove in a heartless spear.

“I will tell him that you are dead.”

Even in the face of such strong rejection and blockade, not a shred of resentment arose. It wasn’t an action done expecting a reward. He had simply achieved the goal he valued most, and there was no longer a goal he craved as much. It was the moment when emptiness overflowed and the driving force of the life he had barely maintained was completely extinguished.

Robert. Were you also crushed by this kind of despair?

“I also hope the regrettable past involving the Baronet, my family, and my brother comes to an end.”

Helplessness and self-loathing filled the gaps of his empty heart. A powerless hand rummaged through a box containing a pipe. Soon, the smoke of refined opium rose. A deeper, sunken laugh poured from his curved lips.

You betrayed me.

The bloodless, pale friend condemned him fiercely. The neck was tightly constricted, and from the burst capillaries in the whites of the eyes to the bluish skin, it was clearly a phantom. MacQueen stared at the dead man for a long time while exhaling smoke.

“Yes.”

You abandoned me, driven mad by love.

“Yes.”

You ruined everything we achieved.

“……Yes.”

Shifting all the blame to me. Covering all your sins over me. You cowardly, despicable devil.

“……You are right.”

We should die together. I cannot be alone in this hell.

“…….”

Robert Higgins died because he could not handle the betrayal of a business partner he had trusted his whole life and the situation where everyone turned their backs on him. The moment his heart weakened while filling his own void for a long time, the judge chose the timing perfectly.

To his lover, and to his friend.

The Grim Reaper was none other than himself.

“……I’m sorry.”

Creeeak—

Following the tedious movement, a harsh noise rose again. An expressionless face revealed itself between light and darkness. MacQueen again fumbled the table with a bored hand. His hand was steady as he took a pistol out of a hardwood box engraved with acanthus patterns. The gaze checking the bullet and the bolt was also surprisingly calm.

“As you said, I should have ended it sooner.”

Muttering a monologue that had now become familiar, MacQueen released the pistol’s safety. Soon, the cold muzzle touched his temple. It was a very slow movement, and the hand on the trigger was calm and without hesitation.

Death.

Rubbing the muzzle against his temple, MacQueen quietly chewed on that word. Death. Death was tranquility and peace. A peaceful death—was it indeed a fitting end for him?

Theo.

His dry lips parted slightly. A quiet afternoon, the sound of someone calling him with an elegant pronunciation. Even with his eyes closed, the lover who would not be erased stood before him. Hair waving like a barley field at twilight, transparent skin and a slender, firm body, an expression that felt sensitive. He was exactly as he had been long ago, shining brilliantly.

You always tell lies.

A mischievous smile was drawn across that gorgeous face. He was arrogant yet elegant. Ah, were those not eyes more transparent than any lake containing all the skies of the world, sufficient to bewitch every soul? The devil of the slums had never seen a jewel with a more brilliant water-color in his entire life.

My dog.

Did he die? Or did he live?

If he had been honest with his heart, if he had admitted the attraction, what would have happened to them?

If he had honestly said that at first, he was simply intoxicated by that captivating beauty.

And after that, he was intoxicated by your weakness and strength.

That it wasn’t a lie. That from the moment he first saw you in that damn mansion until now, he had dared to harbor the most noble light in his heart. That because he didn’t want that hideous desire to be discovered, he treated you with an even more harsh and twisted heart. That such stubbornness had been the pride and strength that sustained him until now, and thus he lacked the courage to show his true feelings.

“……Haha.”

Time flowed, stopped as he neither fired nor put the gun down. MacQueen slowly leaned his head back. His hazy gaze, intoxicated by the drug, reached the ceiling for a long time. There was still work to be done.

“I’m sorry, Robert.”

A hollow laugh escaped.

“I can only die after that person dies.”

I’m sorry, Rob. I wanted to apologize to you personally.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Meaningless apologies continued endlessly. The muzzle that had been scanning his temple and forehead eventually pointed toward the table.

“Forgive me for not being with you even in the end.”

MacQueen laid the gun on the tabletop and laughed heartily once more. Tears, mocking a fool, flowed endlessly between the fingers covering his eyes.

I often came to the wrong answers. Every time I did, you held the reins and turned the direction for me. Now there is no one left to tell me the answer. So, wouldn’t it be fine if I did as I pleased?

MacQueen slowly stood up. Though there was no longer anyone to drink the champagne of victory with, there was still work to be done. Whether it was for someone else or a petty personal revenge, he did not know.

✧ ✧ ✧

Unlike the exterior filled with lavish decorations, the air inside the reception room had sunk coldly.

“To think he would actually return alive.”

A powerless fist struck the table a couple of times.

“Regardless, he is a truly lucky man.”

The movement of the hand rubbing the beard gradually slowed. At the moment when he was using the momentum of victory to drive out the thorn-like opposing forces, the news of an unexpected return was by no means a boon.

Ahem, hmph. Amidst the continuous sighs, one of the members of parliament drinking coffee softly added a recent update.

“I heard that while he is breathing, he is in a state no different from a corpse. I heard rumors that he has been unable to regain consciousness since his return.”

“Still, one never knows. Who among us expected Earl Vispilt to return alive from that sea? Even if he is unconscious today, he might spring up tomorrow morning.”

“Even so, an immediate return to duty will be difficult. The Duke of Cornwall’s condition is also not good. I understand his health was originally poor.”

“Principled objections based on clumsy sympathy and legitimacy will likely be raised once again. Since the Queen knows him, isn’t that why she isn’t trying to dig too deep into this incident right now?”

“True, I am curious about the circumstances of how he returned.”

All of England was stirred by the return of the eldest son of the Duke of Cornwall’s family, whose accidental death during the war had been considered certain. The movement to examine the circumstances and aftermath of his return was temporarily deferred due to the state of Aaron Wizfeldon, who was hovering between life and death. Through Caliven Wizfeldon, the representative of the Duke of Cornwall’s family, the Royal Family praised Aaron Wizfeldon’s achievements and conveyed their concern. Regardless of the inner intentions, on the surface, it was a precarious agreement and truce.

“Should I have waited a bit longer?”

The eyes gauging the recent commotion and current trends narrowed. To think it was merely one scoundrel returning, the atmosphere was too unusual.

A considerable number of media outlets even referred to Earl Vispilt as a victim of political fighting or a brave noble who sacrificed himself to protect his family and country. Of course, since they were conservative media, it wasn’t strange. The only problem was that an atmosphere of agreement was forming. This meant that the Tories, who were in a disadvantageous position in the current political landscape, could utilize the current situation to any extent.

“What are you waiting to see?”

“A rather useful Pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“……Frederick. You don’t need to know.”

“Ah… yes, yes.”

The man, unable to hide his embarrassment at the cold treatment, took a step back. His slightly distorted face was clearly displeased.

What a brat, unable to hide even that much emotion. He seems dim-witted, too.

The old Duke clicked his tongue slightly and shook his head. If he couldn’t even hide a single expression, it would be difficult for him to survive in the political arena full of all sorts of schemes and tricks. The more he looked at the opponent with pity, the more a corner of his heart felt a growing regret.

As expected, what a waste…

Although their relationship had completely soured over the matter of Elisha, he hadn’t intended to abandon Klaus Diugen easily from the start. It was just that the timing was poor. Due to the worsening economic situation, public opinion toward the Whigs and opium merchants was bad, so he had simply kept a low profile.

While he was watching for an opportunity, the representative of Klaus Diugen committed suicide, and Baronet Enfield’s whereabouts became unknown. A sigh steeped in regret sank deeply. He needed a confidant like MacQueen Lester, someone who would unhesitatingly put their hands in the mud for him.

“I understand your concerns. For now, it will be difficult for the Duke of Cornwall’s family to play a major role in Parliament. The role of the second son is minimal, isn’t it? His position within the Tories is not yet that firm.”

“Hmph. Now that the eldest son has returned, it will be even worse. How many fools would be loyal to a representative who might fly away at any moment? Recently, power is gathering again around Gordon Baillyn. We must never let our guard down.”

The tense balance of power had shifted sharply toward the Whig Party, and the expectation of gaining many profits through victory silenced the conscience and the results of a cowardly war. However, contrary to the expectation that the Conservative Party would collapse after the war, young Tory MPs were supporting the party more firmly than expected.

“Even if the eldest son of the Duke of Cornwall’s family cannot function properly as a human due to injuries, there is no telling what kind of catalyst his mere existence will act as for the future moves of the Conservative Party. He should have died…”

“Still, who would dare oppose the Duke in Westminster now?”

“That is true.”

A sinister smile lingered in the aged eyes.

As Jinjiang, the final gateway to Nanjing, fell, the war between the two countries, which had lasted over two years, also came to an end. As final negotiations began, a groundless belief that the stagnant economic problems would improve became prevalent, and the position of Devonshire, the head of the House of Lords and who had a close relationship with the Foreign Secretary, also became powerful.

While the existence of Earl Vispilt was annoying, everything else was perfectly in place. If things continued like this, the plan to take the next premiership and put the Whig Party at the forefront again was worth dreaming about. All the chess pieces were painting a rosy future.

“Is it not a truly perfect picture?”

Bang—!

Before the exclamation could even end, the office door swung open without so much as a knock.

“Who dares—”

“Duke!”

Because of this, the obstacle the Duke of Devonshire encountered just before reaching the final golden bell was a type of accident he had never once considered.

The biggest event that stirred Westminster and all of London this year was the fall of a living power. The opium scandal, hidden behind the massive walls of the great English noble house of the Duke of Devonshire, laid bare the face of corrupt power and sparked public outrage.

The existence of the Devonshire family had been mentioned in a similar Westminster opium lobbying incident a few years prior, but the situation unfolded quite differently than it had back then, when the truth had been hidden behind Klaus Diugen.

The weekly publication Hurst reported without reservation the explicit details: the money the Duke of Devonshire had received through Klaus Diugen for over a decade, the facts of tax evasion, circumstances suggesting solicitation of murder, and involvement in opium smuggling. All the materials were originals held by Klaus Diugen, and within them lay every instance of misconduct and corruption committed by Herald Lenzdoor, the Duke of Devonshire.

The circumstances by which various taxes and bribes were transformed into private property were extremely sophisticated, and the amounts were astronomical. Due to this excessive corruption, the incident became a daily topic of conversation not only among the general public but also among fellow nobles.

Three days after the first special report broke, the situation reached a point beyond recovery when it was revealed that black money from the Devonshire side had flowed to government officials in Westminster and Buckingham through several stages. Ironically, the source of that data was also the materials held by Klaus Diugen.

Though they had lived in symbiosis for a long time, the ally he had ruthlessly discarded at the final moment returned as the greatest enemy. It was the moment a poppy-decorated spear pierced a frail back, dealing a fatal blow. Everyone believed this to be the revenge planned by Robert Higgins, who had committed suicide after feeling betrayed by Devonshire’s indifference.

✧ ✧ ✧

An old door swung open with a bang. Simultaneously, a man abruptly appeared in the Hurst office.

“Hey, Porter! You damn fellow!”

“…Jeffrey, please don’t open the door like that. Thanks to you, I’m on the verge of having to replace the door for the third time.”

“Is that the problem right now? You’re telling me a moldy old wooden door is the problem?”

At the words that were nearly a shout, Vedenbara Porter shook his head and guided his frenemy to the table.

“Sit down first…”

“A scoop like this! How could you keep it all to yourself?”

“I told you, it’s not like that.”

“What do you mean it’s not? I applaud the courage of Hurst and yours for daring to touch none other than Devonshire. Of course, there aren’t many courageous media outlets capable of breaking such a matter… but still, if it were me, I would have gladly shared that burden.”

John Jeffrey was the representative of Glomer, one of London’s leading commoner weeklies, alongside Hurst. The two, who got along well in many areas starting with their political inclinations, had been working in tandem for a long time.

“The position of Hurst is incredible. Do you know? These days, conversations among Londoners never miss Devonshire and Hurst.”

“I’m truly grateful…”

“There will be no more management difficulties.”

“Yes, the income has been quite lucrative for a few weeks.”

“Cheap for the price of a life. You haven’t been shot yet, have you?”

“Haha, I agree. Actually, even now, I’m afraid of the way home. I even dream of someone suddenly rushing at me, throwing a business card and a glove, and challenging me to a duel.”

The impact of the Devonshire ducal family scandal that shook England over the past few weeks was truly immense. Corruption beyond a simple opium lobby entangled many powerful figures in succession.

The royal family was no exception; fearing the weakening of their power base, the monarch quickly grasped the situation and devised countermeasures. Ultimately, the English royal family chose a swift break from the Devonshire family to clean up the filth of Buckingham.

No one was ignorant of the fact that this series of events was not a power-based corruption committed by the Duke of Devonshire alone. However, no one dared to step forward against the blatant cover-up performed by the English royal family. Both men knew that this scoop was, in reality, no different from a poisoned chalice.

“What were you thinking, getting involved in something like this?”

Porter let out a sigh full of anguish.

“It’s as if I was pushed into it.”

“You have no fear of touching noble blood. That is why I like you. Even so, to expose such a huge incident alone… I can’t stand the jealousy.”

“I agree. It would have hurt less if I’d taken these bullets with you. It must be quite the scoop. It’s too precious to share, isn’t it?”

“I knew you were greedy from the start, but to think you’d be this petty, mean, and cowardly. Appalled by your selfishness in monopolizing the scoop, I brought this.”

Contrary to the harsh words, laughter didn’t cease while he rummaged through his coat. Porter also sniffed the air and smiled repeatedly. Against a savory scent, thick fried fish emerged from an envelope. Steam rose clearly, as if it had just been made.

“The smell is amazing.”

“Listen, there were thirty-three people ahead of me. Do you know how grueling the wait was?”

“I figured, so I prepared the alcohol.”

“You’re the best!”

With boisterous laughter, hands became busy cutting the fried fish into bite-sized pieces.

“You must be frantic these days.”

“Inevitably so.”

“It would have been less tiring if we did it together, you greedy fellow.”

Porter smiled awkwardly and shook his head at the complaint hidden within the banter.

“You won’t believe it, but it wasn’t my will. The exclusive report was a condition the informant gave me when handing over the materials. I had no choice but to keep the promise.”

“The informant’s wish was for Hurst to monopolize the scoop?”

“I’m telling you, it’s true.”

Chuckling repeatedly, Porter recalled the time that had flown by over the past few weeks. And the man who, even longer ago, had opened that old door—which his close friend had already broken several times.

“I want you to promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

The gaze looking straight ahead was piercingly cold. Though he had met countless people while working as a journalist, this man left an unusually vivid impression and feeling.

The man was far thinner and looked more sickly than the image Vedenbara Porter had seen through various media, but because he was tall and naturally large-framed, he never looked frail. Rather, the sunken lines that had become sharper made the man look more dangerous and gloomy.

“Publish the materials I gave you without leaving anything out. From beginning to end. Never share them with other media outlets.”

The materials the man brought were truly shocking. Even Porter, who had published a weekly for nearly 20 years from a neutral perspective, criticizing nobles regardless of whether they were Tories or Whigs, hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was okay to break this story. That was how deep, dirty, and hideous the true face of the Duke of Devonshire’s residence was.

“Once these materials are shown to the world, you and Klaus Diugen will also be tied to it. Even if you are the informant, I will not promise to protect Klaus Diugen. Everything will be revealed exactly as I received it. Without any modification.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The blow will be great. As a businessman or in your position within the parliament, it may be difficult for you, Sir, to hope for a future as a politician anymore.”

“That also doesn’t matter. Neither business nor politics is important to me anymore.”

The man tapped the thick documents and ledgers in front of him with long fingers. It was a nonchalant gesture. Though his complexion was poor, his expression was peaceful.

After his sudden disappearance, sinister rumors had followed the man for a while. Some predicted he had been killed on the orders of the Devonshire family, while others claimed to have seen him on a ship leaving for America.

Porter only realized all the rumors were false after facing the man. The opium merchant who once gripped the shadow markets of England, Baronet MacQueen Lester, who had traded his soul with the devil, was alive and still standing.

“I cannot understand.”

“I am not asking for your understanding. I have one condition. That you cover this case to the end. If you keep that promise, I will provide all materials exclusively to Hurst. I will also pay sufficiently for taking the risk. I will provide economic support to the extent that there will be no problems with future management. Furthermore, I will block any power intervention attempting to bring down Hurst.”

It was a truly unconventional offer. It was also a condition that felt like déjà vu.

Back then, just like now, a mysterious man had visited and handed over evidence related to an incident that shook the world without any conditions. Moreover, immense economic support had been a bonus.

Although he had suffered from death threats for a while as a price for touching Devonshire and Cornwall, the informant’s power was also formidable, so the attacks from the royal family and nobles toward Hurst did not last long. The informant never sought Porter out again after that incident, but it was a memory he would likely never forget.

Recalling those events, Vedenbara Porter asked back in a reluctant tone.

“…Why are you handing over such materials? Honestly, you wouldn’t have good feelings toward us… it’s not easy to say, but a few years ago, we handled articles related to Klaus Diugen and the Baronet.”

Ironically, the weekly that broke the lobbying scandal related to MacQueen Lester was also Hurst. Among those who pressured and threatened Hurst and Vedenbara Porter after the scoop was published, this man was also included.

At the suspicious tone, MacQueen Lester sneered and wiped his forehead. Contrary to the expectation that he would get angry or criticize, the other party remained silent for a moment. It was a silent flow, so sharp that even the passing air felt edged.

“Because it is the place that person chose.”

“Pardon?”

“Because it is the place that person chose, I simply thought there must be a reason.”

“That person? Who are you talking about?”

The man wore a gloomy expression and turned his head. Then, he looked out the window for a while. The answer came much later.

“Someone that no one, including you, must ever know.”

Strength slowly entered the two hands resting on his lap. The gaze directed toward the floor crumpled. The man was a base person, but he had a very impressive eye color. Seeing the gaze mixed with all sorts of emotions, Porter realized he should no longer be curious or ask questions.

“You only say things that are hard to understand. A con artist’s excuses are always the same.”

“Haha, don’t scold me.”

“It’s just that I’m jealous you became a popular man on your own. Wouldn’t it have been great if we did it together?”

Though he spoke roughly, he knew the intention of the friend who had visited the office despite both being busy. It was concern for a friend and the president of a powerless commoner’s weekly who dared to target the noble royal family and aristocracy. Pushing the uncomfortable feeling aside, Porter raised his glass high.

“That’s not something a pathetic human who begs a greedy con artist to play with him every day should say.”

“It’s a trick to get you to drink all this alcohol so I can get at least one piece of news.”

“Indeed, how fitting!”

Time passed amidst playful laughter and vulgar jokes. No matter how brilliant a moment, it could not hold more value than a mere instant within the long flow of history.

✧ ✧ ✧

Before the fall of the Duke of Devonshire, which formed a great current in English politics, was completely finalized, the tragedy that struck Cornwall also gained speed.

“You must prepare yourself. His condition is not good.”

The voice of the primary physician, who had been on standby day and night for nearly several months, was very exhausted.

“…I see.”

It was a notification that the power that had dominated an era had ended. It was something already predicted at the point where even meaningful communication became impossible. They had only been gauging the timing. Because he could not breathe properly, his chest, now nothing but bone, rose and fell.

“How long will he endure?”

“His breathing is also poor. I will keep checking, but… that time will not be long.”

“…Right.”

Caliven nodded with a face cast in sorrow. It was something fully anticipated; it was merely a race against time.

“The time he has endured until now is close to a miracle. I will continue to stay by the Grand Duke’s side and notify the servants immediately if an emergency arises.”

“…Thank you.”

After discussing the current situation and countermeasures a bit more, the physician left the room.

A gaze that had been preoccupied with something for a long time turned toward the father. Due to long-term bedridden life, muscles had wasted away, and the withered appearance was like a living corpse. Despite the miserable sight, his hardened heart did not waver.

“….”

After scanning the skeletal body from head to toe, Caliven slowly stood up. Screech. The chair pushed back with a dry sound. Caliven, who was heading straight for the exit, stopped for a moment and looked down. Memories mixed with illusions were layered over the unfamiliar sight of the closed eyes.

“You must live your whole life devoted to your brother. That is why you exist. Indeed.”

“Consider it an honor that you have the opportunity to protect your brother from within the shadows.”

“You useless brat!”

Words and intangible violence, more than physical violence, floated around in a blur. Firmly closed lips trembled for a moment. Caliven turned his head and hurried to erase the illusion from his sight.

He stepped out of the bedroom where his father lay and walked briskly toward somewhere else. His pace was slightly faster than usual.

“What is the value you are trying to protect? Cornwall? The Duke? Or this rotten position of successor? Whatever it is, the difference between you and me remains unchanged. I will not despise your thoughts, but do not tell me to understand that monster.”

“Brother, still… still, he… cherishes and loves you more than anyone. Surely there are distorted parts…”

“Enough of that. You call that obsession and violence love? Your heart is abominable and ridiculous.”

“….”

“Sometimes your foolishness feels like hypocrisy.”

It was a frequent argument, but the conversation of that day remained exceptionally vivid. Caliven could not forget for a long time that cold smile that accurately pierced through his hypocrisy.

Brother.

Actually, I…

The path toward the destination he sought was luxurious yet somehow empty. Expensive carpets brought in through trade, paintings by great artists, antique sculptures. Great treasures lined the way, but a truthful soul existed nowhere.

Upon finally arriving, Caliven remained in silence for a long time. His fingertips wandered near the handle, filled with hesitation. His eyes, directed downward, wavered with anxiety. After agonizing, strength entered his hand. Soon, a dark and lonely space greeted him once again.

After steadying his heavy breath a few more times, Caliven Wizfeldon took a step forward. As the distance closed, the silhouette in the darkness became clearer. The pale complexion reflected in the moonlight made the sickness in the bed look even deeper.

“Brother.”

Dry lips parted. At the awkward pronunciation rolling on his tongue, Caliven gave a light, hollow laugh and shook his head.

“The doctor told me to prepare myself.”

Brother, brother. If it were the brothers of the past, he would have shouted in anger or been annoyed at the habit of saying the same word several times, but now there was no reaction, no answer returning.

“He said all possible treatments have been done, and that it is now the limit. He even said it was a miracle to have lasted this long.”

Unnoticed tears flowed down his cheeks. It was difficult to handle the overflowing fear alone all day. Caliven did not have the confidence to live while carrying this massive and precarious power cast over Wizfeldon and Cornwall alone.

“He said there are cases where consciousness returns at the end. He told me to say what I want to say then. He said that just before leaving, you can probably hear everything the loved ones say.”

Caliven whispered softly, holding the hand that would never comfort him for the rest of his life.

“He told me to say whatever I wanted to say.”

Brother, I…

“I do not know what words would let you go in peace.”

The words I truly want to say to him are…

“No words came to mind.”

The words I want to say are…

“No words…”

Even just a little… just a little faster…

“No words come to mind.”

Guilt that could not be put into words lingered in his throat. It was a truly impious heart. It was a heart he dared not harbor. Muffled sobbing continued for a long time. Within a corrupt and broken fence, within an ambivalence that destroyed the soul, his conscience was helplessly ruined.

It was a night that swallowed all emotions.

The steps crossing the hall were indifferent and slow, yet they carried a secret thrill. The interior of the grand mansion cheered for the sacrifice. He was a magnificent scapegoat, destined to be bound for a lifetime, bearing a history dragged forward from hundreds, thousands of years ago. Even as sticky hands attempted to drag him into hell, the sacrifice walked straight ahead with an indifferent expression.

The sinister moonlight cast a faint glow upon him. The lips beneath a sharp bridge of the nose twisted. It was a smile that could not contain its ecstasy. Finally, the sacrifice reached his destination. Like someone else a few hours prior, he held the cold handle for a moment, holding his breath.

Slowly, a deep and quiet breath flowed. The gaze looking upon the weight he had been forced to carry his entire life was chilling. Between eyelids that blinked slowly, an eerily blue light flickered and vanished repeatedly.

Creeak.

The sound that broke the silence connected two different spaces. The condensed scent of death poured through the opened gap. It was a perfect aura that nothing could hide. The sacrifice smiled more deeply and slowly headed somewhere.

His pace was incredibly slow. With every single step, he imbued old winds and longings, carrying all the dreams he had ever wished for. Was this not the moment he had waited for in breathless silence for so long? Was this not the moment where only ecstasy, joy, and pleasure remained? Was this not the moment he had longed for so desperately?

“…….”

A straight, long hand gripped the bedpost. It was a hand that someone had once clung to while trying to confess their heart.

He stared blankly down at the corpse, which was merely gasping for air with clouded, upturned whites of the eyes. It was a sight of complete downfall. A diseased and rotting body that would never achieve the goal it had longed for throughout its life.

The sacrifice could not understand why the corpse lying on the bed continued such a wretched existence. He should have just died. To be breathing and alive in such an ugly state. Lips firmly shut curved into a crooked arc.

After a while, the sacrifice slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Following that, a light touch brushed across the highest quality sheets and duvet. Meanwhile, the dead breaths exhaled by the old man continued without pause. It was the stench of the Grim Reaper. Every factor constituting the living corpse signaled that its remaining lifespan was nearly gone.

Indeed.

“Father.”

A cold voice escaped his lips. It was a truly indifferent tone, devoid of a single shred of affection.

Ah, Father.

Eyebrows curved like a painting distorted. As if unable to bear the sorrow, or perhaps unable to contain the joy. Slowly, the sacrifice crawled over the dying man. Ssh, ssh. The sound of the sheets rubbing against his knees sang a song, voyeuring the two of them.

“Father.”

The sacrifice examined the man lying beneath him, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. The pupils did not move in the slightest. There was only a mechanical blinking. Tears were welling up, but it was merely a physiological reaction. Would he even recognize him? Would he even understand? Probably not, but it didn’t matter.

“How did you end up in such a miserable state?”

Scarred fingers entwined around the aged neck. It was a careful yet gentle touch. The hand, which had been stroking the wrinkled neck with a sense of pity for a while, stopped at a certain moment. Fine platinum blonde hair flowed over a fair forehead. A dark cloud passed, momentarily blocking the light. The moonlight revealed once more the patricide the sacrifice was about to commit.

“Unfortunately.”

Through that thin light, the figure of the sacrifice appeared—possessing the same death as the man, yet still young. A smile, more pure and radiant than any flower, cast itself upon the sacrifice’s face.

“How pitiful you are.”

Strength gradually entered the hand encircling the father’s neck. Even a light pressure made the corpse’s breathing grow more labored. At the threshold of death, which had drawn even closer, the sacrifice smiled more brightly.

He leaned his lean upper body further down. The stench mixed with the breath grew worse. Hoping the other would not miss a single word, the sacrifice pressed his lips close to the ear of the aged corpse. Father. In the voice calling him again, no affection existed.

Father.

Ah, my father.

“What a miserable sight this is.”

A man who had dominated an era.

“To be in such a shabby state. It brings tears to my eyes.”

A man who had run his entire life for the prosperity and future of England.

“My heart aches as if it were tearing apart.”

England’s greatest politician, who would be respected by the people until the very end.

“I heard that sometimes, people regain consciousness at the very end.”

A twisted and distorted far-right extremist.

“I have come to convey my feelings to you before it is too late.”

One who had strangled his children with violence and oppression throughout his life.

“I hope you listen to every word without missing a single one.”

That cruel and corrupt love, that filthy and ugly love, that terrible love.

“Father.”

Love.

The two hands strangling the wrinkled neck convulsed. Fingers that had lost control repeatedly trembled and bent of their own accord. The sacrifice relentlessly put his weight into both hands. The breath of the corpse, whose airway was blocked, grew even more labored. Savoring the sight of blood vessels bursting in the whites of the eyes, the sacrifice continued.

“Not for a single moment have I ever loved you.”

The voice, laced with frost, descended in a straight line. The pronunciation spitting out the curse was refined and elegant. As he applied more force, a cough finally burst out from the rotting mouth. The sacrifice’s faint laughter continued like a minstrel’s song.

“I have never even respected you.”

In the gaze scanning his father, there was not a single stain of pity.

“I always wished for your death. No matter how long I waited, you seemed to have no intention of dying, so I thought that I should be the one to die. Since the successor you cherished so much has died and vanished, how is this not revenge?”

The sound of a cough mixed with phlegm rang out loudly. Ah, how pitiful. The corners of his rounded eyes spilled laughter once more.

“I must thank God that you are dying on your own like this.”

Faintly humming a song, the sacrifice recited an ancient poem he loved. Refined Latin poured out curses. This was a mansion where phantoms that should have vanished long ago resided. Hiding the urge to laugh so loudly that everyone in the mansion would wake from their sleep, Aaron strangled his father’s neck even more strongly.

“Seeing this, it seems God does exist.”

“……Ugh, uh, hhh… ack……”

Between the cruel laughter, the unconscious body writhed violently. Bony hands also scratched at the sheets. It was an instinct for survival.

“Uh…… eu…… eu, uh……”

“How pitiful.”

It was comical to see him struggle to live despite being nothing more than skin and bone. The sacrifice leaned his upper body down and chuckled even more.

“Ae……”

“…….”

As a faint word escaped the foaming mouth, the hand strangling the neck stopped. The foul-smelling lips flapped. The sacrifice silently scanned the monster gasping beneath him. Even through the crushed pronunciation, the monster was clearly repeating something.

“……ron.”

Someone’s name, name, name.

The name that monster had been obsessed with his entire life.

Aaron.

Aaron.

My beloved son.

At the mention of that name, madness clouded the sacrifice’s eyes. The sacrifice put more weight into his upper body and laughed quietly. His broken hand was now completely beyond his control.

“Remember this.”

He applied more weight, but ironically, the hand strangling the neck was rapidly losing strength.

“Your era has ended.”

The right hand, having lost its will, trembled. Even in that moment, the monster continued to call only the name of his beloved successor.

“The successor you love is also dead.”

It was a hideous greed that would not let go of its obsession until the end. The gaze looking at him sank even colder. The sacrifice leaned his upper body down a bit more.

“Both body and soul.”

The voice brushing against the ear was filled with ecstasy.

“Every single bit.”

The trembling soon spread to the entire shoulder. All the scars carved into his body screamed. They were wounds the monster had personally carved over a very long time.

“I will never succeed you.”

He knew that no more strength could be put into arms and hands that had become weaker than glass. He could not even take the final breath of the monster he had longed for his entire life with these hands. Realizing his own completely broken body, Aaron laughed so loudly that his entire back heaved.

Forever, forever.

Perhaps it was the moment the only value he might have had in his life was completely shattered.

“The history of Cornwall and Wizfeldon, which you loved so much, will also completely vanish.”

Cheeks that were dried and left only with wrinkles became wet with moisture. They were truly loathsome tears.

“Completely.”

Hee— ha— ha— The sacrifice’s laughter and the tears shed by the corpse mingled.

“All because of you.”

The hand, now completely devoid of strength, brushed the patient’s cheek. The face, like a dry mummy, was drenched in tears flowing from pain. It was a hideous sight. It was a body so weak that it wasn’t even worth spending his own strength on. He had lived his life bound and mortgaged to such a person. He had survived by submitting to that cheap violence. Even though it was an old, sick body that posed no threat. A body with no power……

A sense of emptiness and self-loathing, greater than an immeasurable rage, overwhelmed Aaron.

“All because of you.”

Clutching his convulsing hand, Aaron tilted his head back. The chandelier scattered a soft light.

“I will become a phantom.”

“……ron, Ae… ron……”

“I will die and vanish completely.”

“Ae, ron…… ……ron. My……”

The successor of Cornwall would be erased from the world. The blood that followed the lineage would become mixed with impurities, growing weaker and weaker, until one day it would completely vanish from the world. The perfect end of honor was the most perfect revenge the sacrifice dreamed of. A pure white smile bloomed. In the room filled only with darkness, the lamp reflecting the moonlight mocked the weak and miserable lives of the men of the Wizfeldon family.

Click.

Aaron stopped and laughed coldly at the sight he saw as soon as the door opened.

“I suppose you’ve come to keep watch.”

As soon as their eyes met, Aaron let out a scoff at Calvin, who was calling him mournfully.

“Brother……”

“To see if I really kill him?”

“No.”

“He’s still breathing, so go on in.”

At the cynical tone, Calvin shook his head.

“He will die soon even if left alone, so is there a need to dirty my hands?”

“That is not what I was worried about. I am sincere…… I was just worried that you might blame yourself and suffer……”

“Right. If you were truly worried, you wouldn’t have told me.”

With a fluid smile, Aaron recalled the memory from a few hours ago.

“You already knew that I had regained consciousness, didn’t you?”

“……I am sorry.”

Calvin’s eyes, directed toward the floor, were stained with guilt. It was as his brother said. He had vaguely known that Aaron had regained consciousness. He had respected the decision because he didn’t want to make it obvious.

Reading the anguish, Aaron laughed shortly and stared at the end of the hallway with frozen eyes. His dense eyelashes trembled for a moment. After a while, without turning his gaze, he spoke.

“I have no intention of blaming you, so rest easy. It is better than hypocrisy. I am satisfied to have seen that sight with my own eyes, so it is enough.”

Having said his piece, Aaron turned back without a trace of lingering regret.

“I must go.”

“You need rest, Brother. If you push yourself to move around……”

Blocking the hand that tried to stop him, Aaron glared.

“Stop your arrogant interference.”

“Brother……”

“What is there to stop me now?”

Aaron straightened his back and looked straight ahead. His heartless gaze, unreadable in its thoughts, touched the door where the Duke of Cornwall was, but only for an instant. Quietly catching his breath, Aaron returned to an expressionless face and slowly moved his steps.

“Brother!”

Despite the desperate voice, his forward steps did not stop.

“…….”

Calvin stood in that spot for a long time, watching the retreating back of his brother. It was the back of a giant who had endured vile violence for a lifetime.

Edmund Wizfeldon, the 12th Duke of Cornwall of the Wizfeldon family who had dominated an era, passed away at the age of 59, unable to overcome his illness. Upon the death of the Duke of Cornwall, the English monarch expressed grief and praised the achievements of the Wizfeldon family. The citizens who respected him joined the funeral procession to mourn the death and did not hide their sorrow at losing a great hero.

In August of the same year, ’42, aboard the Cornwallis ship anchored off the coast of Nanjing, the plenipotentiaries of the two countries signed a treaty. The treaty, consisting of 13 articles, was the prelude announcing the end of a long war and an unequal treaty heading toward a semi-colonial and semi-feudal state.

✧ ✧ ✧

Outside the window, the world was filled with pitch-black darkness. The man leaned his body completely against the chair with his eyes closed. Shadows fell between the contours of his face in the low light of the lamp. The pain that had struck like a gale had rendered desire powerless, and after carving away ambition, it drew out resignation. Another voice mixed with his desolate breathing.

“I will not accept it.”

With a tone tinged with distress, empty eyes turned toward Aljef. The secretary, who had grown even more gaunt over the past few months, was looking down painfully at the check he had just received.

At the stubborn reaction, MacQuan chuckled and pressed his hand to his forehead. Aljef was a bright and capable secretary who had stayed by his side for a long time. Therefore, he now had to leave this place. Whether by choice or by force, it was a familiar parting.

“Do not refuse. It is the best I can do.”

“I have not done enough to receive something like this. Please, do not do this.”

The silence grew long. A conclusion did not come easily. At some point, the act of agonizing and thinking became extremely taxing for MacQuan. It sometimes took much longer than it did in the past. He did not know if the reason was the opium or the depression and lethargy eating away at his life.

“Unless you are refusing because it is dirty money, please accept it. It is a choice I made for my own peace of mind, so there is no need for you to feel burdened. I did not earn that money through Klaus Diugen’s activities. You might wonder what the difference is, but if I were to add a detail.”

“……I do not wish to.”

“What would you do if you went down to Scotland empty-handed? With a career at Klaus Diugen, it would be difficult to be employed by a new company. Think of reality. Neither of us is exactly noble.”

“That is not what I mean.”

MacQuan continued in an extremely calm expression and a monotone voice.

“Just take it. Honestly, you must know that returning to Scotland in the current atmosphere is practically a suicidal act. If you go empty-handed, you’ll be lucky if you aren’t rolling in the street as a corpse the next day. Once you establish a foundation there, you can burn that money then. What use is something like pride?”

“……Lord Lester.”

“Surviving is what matters.”

Aljef thought of the employer he had experienced over the past few months. The man who had led him for so long was now refusing to move forward. Despite numerous attempts to persuade him, there was no gap in his firm and steadfast refusal. For a man who had once held the English commercial district beneath his feet, it was a surrender that was hollowly fast.

“Are you really going to end it like this?”

There was no answer. How futile is the end of one whose all momentum has stopped. Even seeing it with his own eyes, Aljef found it impossible to accept that fact. He covered his eyes, struggling to swallow the despair. The heat rising from his chest gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“Did you come all this way just to end it like this?”

It was not a question seeking an answer. The voice trembling with self-reproach told the story. MacQuan, still keeping his gaze fixed outside the window, smiled slightly.

“Please do not give up on everything.”

“…….”

Klaus Diugen, the largest trading company in Garraway, had entered the process of dissolution. This was to avoid the Special Tax Audit Act that had passed the House of Lords. Their target was precise.

Even after the war ended, the economic situation did not improve. Behind the golden age of industrialization, side effects and the gap between rich and poor grew even larger, to the point where the lives of the poor in the slums became a means of tourism and entertainment. With consecutive wars and growth that had lost its momentum, the arrows of blame were directed toward Westminster and the Royal Family.

Of course, as history has shown, those in power always knew how to change the direction of the waves heading toward them. The most appetizing sacrifice to divert the blame was first Devonshire, and next was Klaus Diugen, who had acted as their hands and feet. It was a natural sequence.

“I feel nothing but sorry for you. However, my decision remains unchanged.”

“Are you really going to give up on Klaus just like this?”

“It is a choice rather than a surrender. Even if I respond further, it will be nothing but a waste of effort. The Royal Family has already abandoned Devonshire. They disposed of a man who was once the head of a faction so quickly. Would we be safe? We must finish the work as quickly as possible while the Queen is still granting that trivial, ocean-like tolerance.”

“It is not as if there is no way. The Royal Family also bears full responsibility. There is plenty of room to contest this. If you have even the slightest will, I will help you. You do not have to go to Scotland immediately—”

“Aljef.”

The short call severed the conversation that had been continuing pointlessly.

“I do not wish for that.”

“Sir.”

“I am tired of war.”

Aljef gasped at the emptiness reflected in the eyes meeting his. In those dark pupils, it was difficult to find any will to fight or any spark of vitality.

The captain who had led the massive merchant ship called Klaus chose escape over fighting an enemy who was also an accomplice. There would be no reversal. Only then did Aljef fully accept that the will and ambition that had formed the core of the man known as MacQueen Lester had been completely shattered. And that a life vanished without any conclusion, without any purpose.

“The death of Sir Robert vanishes without any meaning, then.”

“…Meaning, is it.”

MacQueen eventually let out a laugh. The sights he had seen while drifting around the coastal islands of Daecheong for several months were a hell he would not forget until the moment he died. Robert, you and I will go to hell. No, perhaps even hell will not welcome us.

“It was not entirely our fault, was it?”

A heavy sob swallowed his emotions. He knew these words were sincere. MacQueen smiled quietly and turned his gaze toward the window. The secretary’s cowardly rationalization was the product of his own sins. Facing past transgressions was shameful and agonizing, no matter how many times it was repeated.

“Where have all those who shared the guilt gone?”

“Aljef.”

“The Royal Family, the Parliament! Everyone bears responsibility. Why do those in the highest positions not bear a corresponding responsibility!”

Cigarette smoke mingled through his slow movements. Faded memories flowed back into the past, further and further. MacQueen recalled the image of someone laughing dissolutely amidst opium smoke, mocking him. At the time, he had regarded the emotion—which was so painful he wanted to destroy it—simply as contempt.

“Of course, the sin was shared…”

The trailing end of his sentence was heavy with fatigue. MacQueen offered his final sincerity to the loyal subordinate who had stayed by his side for so long.

“The price of sin is always borne by those standing in the lowest place. Does the history we have experienced not prove that? Knowing that, you and I both tried so hard to crawl upward. To pin the sin on someone weaker in our stead.”

“….”

“That sin has simply returned. Who is there to blame now?”

“….”

“Aljef, we simply lost. Do not worry about it. There is already more than enough wealth. Is there not enough money left that we cannot even spend it until the day we die? We will not return to a wretched life in the back alleys. Even this is a luxury to some. While we have this conversation, countless poor laborers in East End must be dying.”

Contrary to his words, there was no emotion in his expression or tone.

“Yes. To some, even our situation is a luxury.”

A hollow laugh lingered for a moment. Walking to the window, MacQueen drew back the curtains with a languid hand. A gaunt moon revealed itself. When the moon is full, it can only wane. It was the providence of nature.

Clatter, clatter. The sound of horse hooves echoed from afar. Rattle, rattle. A carriage carrying his lover was arriving at the mansion. You are coming to me. His smile deepened. The scent of a forest from his memories drifted in softly.

He knew. It was an illusion. An auditory hallucination. An olfactory hallucination.

MacQueen was well aware of his delusions, which had become completely entangled with reality. It was a past he had ruined with his own hands, a past he could never return to. It was a memory and emotion he had crushed and burned. There was no existing entity.

Never again.

Never again would you come to me of your own will.

Forcing down the twisted, surging regret, MacQueen lowered his head. His parched eyes had long since forgotten how to cry.

Have you come to your senses?

No, he should not be curious. To his lover, he was evil itself. The hallucination of his lover walked toward him again. Why don’t you just die? a gentle voice whispered. Elegant fingertips traced his nape. Die. MacQueen nodded, willingly agreeing to do so.

The owner lived, but they must not meet again. It would be better to end everything. Once the disposal of Klaus was finalized, this tedious time could also come to an end. There was not much left.

“…There is something I must give you.”

A choked voice broke the silence between them. With trembling hands, Aljef pulled an envelope from his breast. Sealing wax stamped with a lavish and historic crest brushed against his fingertips.

“It is a letter from the Cornwall family.”

At the familiar word, a vacant light returned to his eyes.

“Shuman told me it arrived this morning. I thought it would be better not to deliver it… but I felt it was not for me to decide, so I am giving it to you.”

“….”

“Please do not give up on everything. If the path you walked was filthy, live while paying for your sins. Please, I beg you, live for Sir Robert’s sake as well. I will do the same. I will not turn away from the sins I have committed.”

The living had to live. Though there was resentment and disappointment, Aljef hoped that the last remaining person would not be consumed by hell.

“You worry too much. Do you think I might actually die?”

The enclosed study was like a prison. Aljef eventually turned his head away. His distorted heart cried out in pain.

“Stay healthy.”

“…Yes.”

“I was truly grateful.”

As the sorrowful sobbing grew louder, MacQueen smiled weakly and shifted his gaze to the letter. He knew that whatever was inside the luxurious envelope, it would not be news that brought him hope. God had abandoned him long ago. Or perhaps, he had been a demon who never existed in God’s embrace to begin with.

“Please, stay healthy.”

With the final tremor of a swallowed sob, even the loyal secretary left the mansion. It was the moment another connection ended. The heavy sound of footsteps gradually faded.

Aren’t you curious about the contents of the letter?

“I am curious.”

Look at it quickly.

“I intend to.”

Hurry.

A sweet voice whispered. His lover, standing crookedly with arms crossed, urged him on. A mischievous smile filled that gaunt, sharp face. Only a moment ago, they had urged him to die; his lover was as unpredictable as the London weather. He wanted to brush back the disheveled hair. He wanted to lock eyes for a long time.

Before long, MacQueen turned his head away again. The lover’s right hand and right leg, from which blood flowed endlessly, pressed him. It was a body completely ruined, unable to move properly.

Do not turn your eyes away from your sin.

A cold voice condemned MacQueen.

It is a death sentence for you.

His fear-stricken fingertips could not bring themselves to touch the envelope. After several failed attempts, he picked up the letter with trembling hands. From the envelope with the broken red seal, a piece of luxurious stationery emerged.

“….”

The content was concise, but for some reason, it took a very long time to read to the end. Even as he read it over and over, MacQueen remained motionless for a long while. Finally, after confirming the last sentence once more, the man’s sobbing quietly filled the space.

✧ ✧ ✧

An ominous energy drifted through the pub.

“Even after the war ended, life hasn’t changed. It’s truly the worst.”

“Far from changing, my business contacts have gotten worse.”

“Well, it would be harder to find someone who isn’t in that position.”

It was a despair bordering on resignation. Rough curses continued among the laborers and merchants in the boisterous atmosphere. Most of the conversation was dissatisfaction with a situation that had not changed, contrary to initial expectations.

Unlike the beginning, where a grand conclusion was expected, the England trade issues were undergoing a sluggish process even after the war ended. The anger and resentment of the merchants were directed sometimes at the state, sometimes at Parliament, and sometimes at a specific individual.

Thump. Thump.

A crude drinking glass hit the table a couple of times.

“….”

The half-remaining liquor sloshed precariously following the tilt. The gaze of a man watching him also settled heavily. The chaos of desperate pleas and intense disappointment from just a few hours ago overlapped with reality. As fatigue sank into his distorted face, the conversation continued.

“I thought things would be more livable once the war ended.”

“Change the world? My foot! It’s just become more of a mess, more broken. If it weren’t for the war, we wouldn’t have been empty-handed for several years like this.”

“Right. In fact, the situation is worse than before the war. Forget opening new markets, everything is slow as hell. Demand for other goods hasn’t changed at all. If anything, the customs officials’ attitudes are more conservative.”

“I knew it from the moment they fought this kind of war just to force-sell those filthy goods.”

“Selling their conscience, selling their morals, selling opium!”

“You should be careful too. If you touch that devilish flower recklessly, you’ll ruin your life.”

“Like those lords over in Westminster?”

“Hahaha!”

“Anyway, it’ll be hard to expect anything in the future. What did we expect from people who do nothing but sit and talk? We shouldn’t have trusted the words of politicians.”

“What would a noble know? I didn’t expect anything to begin with.”

“I’m not talking about those high-and-mighty people…”

The endless complaints gradually faded. It was not that the conversation had actually stopped, but rather that the mind focusing on reality had grown distant.

From the moment he left the office to the pub on the street, in that short span of time, Aljef had to hear the name of the person he once served dozens of times. The reality where resentment and curses followed that name was, in a way, only natural.

There was anger toward the Royal Family and the nobility, but it was minimal. Considering that the world had always been generous to the leaders dwelling in the highest strata, it was not surprising.

“The world is not fair, Aljef. People are not equal. It was so in the past, and it likely will be in the future. I am certain of it.”

He recalled the greedy yet confident man from a party long ago. The voice and smile full of conviction had a power that was cruel yet captivating. It was an emotion so intense that it offset even the guilt of choosing to follow evil.

To the point that for all that time, they failed to realize the path they walked was not an uphill climb toward a goal, but a downhill slope toward destruction. Back then, what did I answer to what you said?

A powerless chuckle caught on his trembling lips. Sharp bars mercilessly tore through the wrong path he had walked, pouring out condemnation.

“I want to have power.”

Whenever they headed toward the royal palace or Westminster, his employer would always vow.

“So that none of those living in that lavish palace can ever look down on me.”

Aljef remembered the coward who had been swept up and joined in the frenzied party. That man was someone more cowardly than anyone, chasing delusional dreams, a murderer who did not hesitate to slaughter someone’s soul under the pretext of loyalty.

“I also await that day.”

The foolish one who did not recognize wrong as wrong.

That cowardly and filthy Scottish man,

Aljef Duncliffe.

“…I should go.”

Aljef drank the remaining liquor and stood up.

“….”

He slowly scanned the entire noisy pub. He looked back at the history of filth gathered densely between the dirty alleys. He had already committed too many wrongs and wasted his life trying to catch a mirage. The reality of achieving nothing was generous compared to the price he should have paid.

After observing the pub and the people in silence for a while longer, the man finally headed for the exit. It was the final moment Aljef Duncliffe would set foot on London soil in his life.

✧ ✧ ✧

After the passing of the 12th Duke of Cornwall, Edmund Wizfeldon, it was a natural progression for Earl Vispilt, Aaron Wizfeldon, to succeed to the dukedom. However, as he had not yet recovered from his injuries, Caliven Wizfeldon had to perform official duties as the representative of Aaron Wizfeldon, the 13th Duke of Cornwall.

“The issue of the Scottish Church has reached a serious level. I express my sincere concern regarding the state of the spiritual movements that have spread throughout the region over the past year.”

“It is said that impure movements have been detected, centered around the Presbytery. They are stepping forward to incite the citizen class who hold voting rights.”

The debate within the Chamber continued into the afternoon; it was a tedious fight with no conclusion. Caliven pressed his forehead, recalling the several topics of the House of Lords meetings that had changed since the morning. The reason for his confusion was not due to the meaningless readings.

“I believe I have fulfilled my role faithfully in the meantime. It is an obvious fact, even without hearing your thoughts and opinions.”

The brother, who was officially known to still be bedridden, greeted Caliven, who had come to visit him, with his usual mischievous expression.

According to the doctor’s opinion, he had only regained consciousness, and his health was such that it would not be strange if he died immediately. However, the brother leaning against the window was still as imposing as he had been at any point in the past.

“Therefore, you must also shoulder some of my burden.”

His tone held no sympathy for the younger brother who had alone borne all official duties and responsibilities while the father and brother wandered the crossroads of life and death in turns. Because that appearance was exactly as he knew him, Caliven smiled faintly. Fierce reprimands immediately poured out, accusing him of not concentrating, but even that was a spark of life that had arrived at the mansion, which had been like a grave. Even if the words that followed broke his heart.

“What are you thinking about?”

His consciousness, which had been wandering distractedly, returned to reality thanks to the sudden question.

“It is nothing. I could not concentrate because I did not sleep well last night.”

The mask for dealing with outsiders was once again layered over his face. Naturally, information about the other party also came to mind. The man was also a young Earl acting as a representative for his aged father. Of course, although they were both representatives, the man was the eldest son who would succeed to the title upon the current Duke’s passing, so his starting position was different from Caliven’s.

“Actually, I feel the same. It is a tedious story. In truth, there is no conclusion, is there? Would you like to go to the social club together today?”

“Ah…”

“Did you not refuse last time as well? Do not do that; come with me today. News is already spreading that Sir Caliven Wizfeldon only associates with the young members of the House of Commons. Although Sir Gordon Bailen and Sir William Sturt are exerting influence on that side, the House of Commons these days is dominated by those of gentry origin, is it not?”

Despite his position being inferior to those men, the man had no hesitation in sharing a sense of superiority. Caliven knew that the reason he acted so friendly was not because their political colors matched, nor because their ages were similar or a bond had been formed, but because of the shell of the Wizfeldon family he currently wore.

“I am worried about what kind of politics the crowd that rolled around in East End will conduct. Although you are the representative, you are strictly a member of the historic Wizfeldon family, and no one knows what will happen in the future, do they? It may be good to cooperate politically, but it is better not to engage in social intimacy. You may not know, but in the long run, it will not be very good for the Ducal House of Cornwall either.”

It was evident that if his brother returned and he returned to the position of a second son without any title, he himself would become one of the crowds the man mentioned as being of no help to be close to. Caliven gave a bitter sneer and nodded.

“…Thank you for the advice.”

Even if the world changed endlessly, there were standards and values within it that did not change. Even if hundreds or thousands of years passed, the sense of superiority, status, and the greed to protect them would not disappear, even if they changed form.

“More importantly, if you are available this winter season, in Nottinghamshire…”

The cravat wrapping his shirt gradually strangled his breath. The conversation, which drew boundaries and divided people, announcing that status and rank existed above human dignity, continued for some time after that.

When the four-wheeled carriage arrived at the mansion, the sky was completely filled with murky clouds. The damp air predicted that rain would fall again in the near future. In the end, he did not go to the social club. It was because he had already spent too much time engaging in hollow conversation.

Remembering his brother, who particularly hated the rain, Caliven shifted his gaze to the window of the room where his brother stayed. Inside the room, thick curtains perfectly severed the inside from the outside. What stopped his steps toward the entrance was the discovery of a faint light shining through the curtains.

“…?”

It was a light so weak that he would normally never have noticed it, but the meaning of the words his brother had told him last night was too great to miss that small signal. Could it be. Caliven left the attending footman behind and hurried back into the mansion.

“You’ve returned early. Your coat—”

Stopping the approaching butler, Caliven hurried toward the stairs.

“In a moment. I am going to see my brother.”

“Shall I prepare a wet towel?”

“No, I will ask if I need one.”

Passing through the drawing room lobby, his steps up the stairs were urgent and precarious, contrasting with his usual steadfast and quiet nature. As he clenched his teeth, a heat gathered in the corners of his eyes. Not yet, not just yet. He hoped his brother would stay by his side just a little longer.

“You must also do your part.”

“I will follow everything.”

“Still unable to think or decide anything for yourself. Truly foolish. You are exactly as you were before, hiding behind my back. Always so weak.”

“Brother…”

“Well, fine. That mad phantom has utterly failed in raising an heir. I like that.”

“Brother, you may say whatever you wish to me. I…”

“Since the day I was born, you have strangled me.”

“…”

“So…”

Thud—

Because he had pulled it in such haste, the door opened with a loud crash. Startled by the sudden commotion, Aaron, who had been packing something in the room, stopped his movements.

“…Caliven.”

Displeasure toward the rude intruder was blatantly etched across his finely sculpted face.

“Where did you learn such uncouth behavior? If you call yourself a representative of the Duke of Cornwall’s house and act like this, you might as well go into the woods and hang yourself.”

“…I am sorry.”

“I suppose you’ve forgotten even the most basic etiquette? You’ve become a mindless idiot.”

“I am sorry… Brother, are you planning to leave right now…?”

At his anxious state, Aaron scoffed and stuffed his cravat into the bag.

“Must I tell you everything? I believe I conveyed all the necessary details to you a few days ago.”

“It’s not that… nothing is prepared yet. Not yet…”

A cold gaze slowly followed Caliven’s frantic movements. It was a look devoid of any pity or sympathy.

“And what is it that needs preparing?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Caliven found himself speechless. With a face that showed no intention of waiting, Aaron began packing his luggage again.

“The manor where you’ll stay… the medical staff… the, the studio… and the tools you need… and also…”

At the sight of him stammering like a child who hadn’t yet learned to speak, Aaron finally let out a sneer.

“I must build a new manor, assemble a famous medical team, find a hospital, set up a studio, and manage the woods—what else is there? Ah, I suppose I’ll need to find servants who can put up with my temper and ensure all the supplies I require are ready. There truly is much to do.”

“…”

“It would be a stroke of luck if I were still alive by the time all that is completed.”

“Brother! Why would you say such a thing?”

The exclamation, filled with horror, cut him off. Thick eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. Normally, such an interruption would have been impossible. Caliven poured out the emotions that had been swirling chaotically in his mind.

“The doctor said your lung condition is very poor. Your hands, your legs… you know that everything is in a state that requires treatment. I will look for a place suitable for recuperation. I know it is hard for you to wait. It was only a few days ago that you told me you wished to leave. You may think this sounds like an excuse… but there was not enough time to prepare. So…”

Sincere worry, when it fails to reach the other person, is nothing more than a weightless fragment. Aaron interrupted him with an expression of total indifference.

“Do not turn me into a living corpse. I have no wish to waste any more time.”

“…”

“Once you have settled in and contacted me, you may faithfully carry out the tasks I requested. That is all you have to do. Do not presume to interfere any further.”

Under that silent gaze, Caliven stopped the disjointed words he had been pouring out to hold onto his brother. Those eyes were not just calm; they had become ash.

“Caliven.”

Instead of answering, Caliven bit his lower lip. He could not understand Aaron’s absurd stubbornness. His brother was in a state where treatment and recuperation were absolutely necessary. At this rate, he was doing nothing but consuming his own life. The cruelty of persisting despite knowing this made Caliven tremble with sorrow.

His gentle face distorted with the grief and fear of potentially losing his only brother. Unmoved by Caliven’s sorrow, Aaron continued calmly. Of course, there was no consideration for the other in his words.

“As long as I am alive, there is no way you will become the next Duke of Cornwall.”

At the unexpected words, Caliven shook his head violently.

“Why do you say that? You know I do not desire the title. All I want is… just to be with me a little longer…”

“Until the moment I die, the Duke of Cornwall of this generation is me, not you. That is a fact that will never change. Nothing I possess can become yours. Do not dare to hope for it.”

“Brother, I truly do not think of such things. You know that.”

His voice trembled, unable to compose his emotions. He knew that his brother did not truly doubt the sincerity of his heart. He knew this was simply Aaron’s way of conversing—more aggressive, twisted, and warped than usual.

“Please, do not say such things…”

His brother was trying to leave. Leaving Cornwall’s side, leaving Wizfeldon’s side, leaving this vast and lonely manor. Leaving him all alone.

Caliven realized that no card he held could stop Aaron. No request, no plea, no humble appeal for pity would work on his brother. Unable to continue, he simply swallowed his dry throat several times. Aaron scoffed with his usual mischievous expression.

“But when I die, you will become the next Duke of Cornwall and the Earl of Vispilt.”

“Brother!”

“Because I will never have an heir.”

“Why on earth do you say such ominous things? Please, stop.”

The gaze directed at his despairing younger brother remained cold. Laughing softly, Aaron continued nonchalantly.

“Of course, if I am unlucky enough to outlive you, it will go to your son.”

“…Why, why on earth…”

Though the words sounded like a curse, Caliven’s eyes welled up as he recognized the truth hidden behind them. Regardless, Aaron waved his hand dismissively, treating his pitiful brother like a nuisance of a crow.

“It would be quite funny if the father was nothing more than a representative his whole life, yet the son takes all the titles. We must ensure that doesn’t happen.”

The smile, now stripped of its malice, finally shone brighter than the sun.

Due to Caliven’s plea to have one last meal together, Aaron’s planned journey had to be delayed by half a day. Despite the word ‘meal,’ the frail younger brother spent his time sobbing, leaving the food spread across the table untouched.

“How useless.”

Aaron pressed his hand to his forehead, feeling pathetic that he couldn’t refuse such a foolish and unnecessary request. The headache that had become a habit was about to start again. Sipping a high-quality wine to moisten his throat, Aaron stared at the empty seat where his brother had sat until a moment ago.

His brother, who had kept his head bowed and shed tears throughout, had hurriedly left the dining room after saying he would call for a carriage and asking him to wait. The carriage didn’t matter. Having no intention of showing further kindness, Aaron lightly wiped his mouth and rose without lingering.

“…”

With eyes that hid his inner thoughts, Aaron surveyed the opulent interior of the dining room. Not just here, but the entire manor, and further, the country houses in the territory—every scene that constituted Cornwall and Wizfeldon was grand and magnificent. He thought of the one who had struggled to protect the history passed down from the past. To his father, honor was justice and duty. Though he had despised it his whole life, that image remained entirely within himself.

He was no different at all.

The thought did not last long. It was merely an act of self-harm, carving away and consuming his own flesh. His straight bridge of the nose wrinkled slightly. Leaving the brief lapse behind, Aaron moved again. His steps across the polished marble floor were steady, carrying a firm resolve without a single tremor.

Click.

As he stepped outside, a cool breeze blew. The days were long. Even though evening was approaching, the surroundings were bright and the air was crisp.

“Brother!”

His indifferent steps were stopped shortly after leaving the entrance. At the pathetic sight of the man running toward him, panting for breath, Aaron unconsciously frowned.

“I told you… to wait… gasp…”

“I have already delayed enough.”

“Just a little more…”

“My patience has reached its limit. Stop it.”

At the gesture blocking his path, Caliven hesitated, unable to approach further. The servants, too, dared not emerge under the master’s piercing gaze and soon vanished back into the manor.

“The carriage will be here soon… please wait.”

His tone was completely drained of energy. A sneer flew back immediately.

“How useless.”

A brief silence followed. Lifting his head, Caliven stared directly at the brother whose eyes he had found it difficult to meet his entire life. The attitude of someone ready to leave at any moment meant that the time he had to face his brother was not long. The massive guilt that had strangled Caliven for so long thrashed within him. He squeezed out a voice that was barely suppressed.

“I told a lie.”

At the unexpected confession, one of Aaron’s eyebrows rose. In the starkly sunken atmosphere, Caliven struggled to continue. The wait was short. With a face full of irritation, Aaron turned away again.

“If you aren’t going to say it, don’t start. Keep in mind that your dull habit will one day bring you shame.”

“…”

“I am leaving.”

“That man is not dead.”

“…”

The step he had taken stopped again. Aaron’s gaze remained fixed on the outer door of the manor.

“Baronet Enfield is dead.”

“Though he is in seclusion, he is still in London.”

“Many things happened to him after you disappeared, Brother. I heard he became addicted to opium. I heard that after his business partner committed suicide, he took a ship to America to attempt a comeback and met with an accident.”

A wind that sounded like scraping metal clawed past Aaron’s gaunt cheek. His lips, closed tight and emotionless, curved faintly. It was a smile like a honed blade.

“I knew. Whether he is in London or not is of no concern to me.”

“How…”

At the unexpected answer, Caliven froze, his eyes wide. The eyebrow arched in cynicism returned to its place.

“Do you think there is anyone who would be fooled by such a clumsy lie? You can’t even maintain a facial expression or meet someone’s eyes; it’s utterly laughable.”

“I am sorry. At the time, I thought it was for your sake, Brother.”

“You presumed too much. Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“…Yes.”

An unfiltered laugh broke out. Long fingers, scarred and worn, pointed at Caliven Wizfeldon standing opposite him.

“I am not so weak that you need to consider such judgments. How foolish. You tend to think that everyone is swayed by emotion just as you are. Or that they cling foolishly to a single emotion.”

Contrary to the scathing words, there was a hint of bitterness in his cold eyes.

“I know I presumed too much. It’s just that at the time, I was worried about your condition…”

“Caliven.”

The voice calling Caliven again was frigid. A sneer flowed across the facing face. Aaron glanced at him with a look of ridicule.

“You are spending far too much energy pitying me. Think about who that act is truly for. Why you create unnecessary guilt on your own and lock yourself inside it. Don’t tell me…”

Trailing off, Aaron frowned sharply at a sudden, unpleasant thought.

“If you think that you, of all people, failed to help me or save me, then I would rather not speak with you for the rest of my life. There was nothing for you to do then, and there is nothing now. Stop trying to justify your own misery through the misfortune of others. It is truly a pathetic thing to do.”

“…I have always been a coward.”

“Whether you think that or not is none of my business. I suppose useless self-reproach is your hobby. I don’t know what you could have done, but feel free to agonize over it alone.”

It was the same sharp way of speaking that had never changed. Caliven smiled bitterly and cast his gaze toward the road beyond the entrance for a moment.

“I am leaving.”

“The carriage…”

“I don’t need it. It’s been a long time since I’ve breathed the outside air, so I want to walk a bit.”

“The distance to the train station is far.”

“I will manage. Caliven, you must fix your habit of not finishing your sentences. That way of speaking makes the other person think you are stupid and weak. If the person carrying the weight of Cornwall acts like you, would that not be an insult to the family?”

Tossing the words bluntly, Aaron adjusted his simple bag.

“That man.”

Caliven immediately followed up.

“Would you not like to see him before you go?”

The movement stopped once more.

“I am sorry to say this only now. The one who rescued you and returned to London was Baronet Enfield. He, until the very end…”

“Stop.”

A fickle wind blew. It was a wind mixed with dust. His body, unable to endure even a moment’s strain, cried out in fatigue. Aaron let out a short sigh with a weary face.

“Do not let the handling of Rodinton cross into next year. The lifespan of the cotton business ended long ago. The Queen knows this, but she simply pushes the fallout and responsibility onto us.”

Memories rushed in like waves and vanished just as quickly with the same intensity. All that remained was a devastated heart.

“Do not fear the possibility of clashing with the Royal Family. Even if we turn our backs on each other, Buckingham will not be able to touch Cornwall easily. Though he was the worst father to us, the results the previous Duke achieved are quite impressive. Public opinion has formed that he sacrificed himself for the country, leading a company with his own private fortune for years when it should have vanished long ago. Now is the opportunity; do not miss it.”

Aaron stared quietly at the scenery beyond the window. The seasons had changed, and a new time was arriving. He pondered for a moment before continuing.

“I am not sure if I need to re-examine the legal aspects after several years. Since some work has already been done regarding the bankruptcy, do not harbor the foolish thought of trying to save it. Even if you organize the cotton business and consider other primary industries, closure is the only answer for those remaining. If you insist on doing it, your management skills are abysmal, so it would be better to find professional talent to run the company and factories.”

Caliven, still with his head bowed, wiped his heating eyes.

“Rather than the old snakes of the House of Lords, focus on recruiting clever young members of the House of Commons. Though their positions differ, there are many who would be useful as your subordinates later. Maintain a relationship with Gordon Baillyn. He is exceptionally capable and is a man with a high possibility of rising further to become a politician who captures the hearts of the people.”

The tone of his calm speech was quiet, and the content was prudent. Because those words sounded like a brother’s final testament, Caliven could not easily speak.

“Brother…”

“The day the House of Lords and the House of Commons are overturned will surely come. …And this country as well.”

“…”

“I will send a letter when I arrive.”

Blinking slowly a few more times, Aaron hurried his steps again. It was now the moment where they had to choose and walk completely different paths. Caliven could not hold onto the back that held such a firm resolve not to delay any further. It was a parting befitting the nature of a brother who was colder than anyone, yet not cruel until the very end.

The brush shook violently in the direction of the wind. The golden waves of barley also danced softly.

His pace was inconsistent. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes stopping completely to catch his breath, yet the direction he headed remained constant. Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, Aaron let out a faint sigh. With a body like this, it was difficult to derive proper results regardless of what he did. Even after arriving at the provincial estate, he would have to recuperate for a while.

Aaron set down his bag and leaned on his leg, where pain was surging. The air was quite crisp, but breathing was difficult due to lungs that did not function properly.

“The worst.”

Aaron repeatedly caught his breath and swallowed the pain. A wind blowing from somewhere cooled his feverish forehead and saw him off. He had a long way to go. Leaving his hesitation behind, Aaron took a deep breath to start walking again.

Step, step.

The sound of grass being stepped on was heard from somewhere. It was a close distance. A long shadow, suggesting the other person was tall, covered him. As the shadow drenched him from his toes up to his head, Aaron blinked slowly.

A familiar scent.

It was the scent of burning opium.

A poison burned, born of a self-destructive urge that refused to stop, wishing for nothing less than total self-annihilation, sickening both body and soul over a long period of time. Aaron swallowed a quiet sneer, thinking that perhaps the flower had ended up consuming even the master of the poison.

“…….”

“…….”

In the silence, the sound of trembling breath carried through the wind. Slowly turning, Aaron stared calmly at the one who had approached stealthily, like a thief. It wasn’t hard to deduce how the man had made it here. He went through with something useless until the very end. Clicking his tongue shortly, Aaron thought of his frail younger brother. Had that been why the boy was so restless until the final moment of their parting?

“Do you know?”

The voice was very low and somewhat rough. It differed slightly from the various voices mingled in his memories. As the wind blew again, barley leaves brushed against one another, singing a song of autumn.

“A few days ago, Sir Caliven Wizfeldon sent a letter. Saying you had awakened. ……And that you intended to leave London soon.”

A powerless laugh followed.

“I didn’t realize it would be today.”

He looked like a fool, hardly believable as the silver-tongued orator who once set the chambers of Westminster ablaze. MacQuan stammered, gathering words floating in his mind and stitching them together haphazardly before speaking them.

“A footman from Pellynton Hall brought a letter in haste this morning. I don’t know what state of mind I was in to come all the way here. When I arrived at the manor, I was told you had already left……”

“…….”

“I ran. Like a madman. It has been so long since I’ve run like that. A very long time ago…… yes. Since the time I ran to find a doctor to cure my brother…… it is the first time.”

The voice, tracing a distant past destroyed without a trace, gradually faded. Long, pale fingers twitching toward the ground. The returning wind surged, as if intent on shaking off the opium that had penetrated the deepest reaches of the soul. Dark brown hair was tossed into a mess.

“I am winding down the company. It will take time since I have many ventures open, but it is not a difficult task.”

He could not bring himself to say that his memories had returned.

“I’ve lost interest in trade, so I intend to try something else. I am quite adept at finding things that are profitable.”

He could not say that he had been the man’s dog.

“I believe I can afford to take responsibility for and sponsor a single artist until the end.”

He could not confess that he loved him.

Forever.

“I am confident that I can introduce your work to the world and make you the artist of the century.”

At those final words, Aaron finally let out a laugh. Taking a bit more time, he slowly pushed himself up. His feet planted firmly on the ground, and his straight back and waist rose in succession. His profile, mercilessly sharp, was like a painting.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

Bwaaaaang—

A harsh noise echoed from afar. It was a locomotive entering London, carrying people whose destination was the city. The black smoke from the burning coal scattered fiercely, reaching as high as the clouds. The sound of wheels racing along the tracks was coarse. This new invention was a means of cutting through eras and time, liquidating the relics of the past.

A period of silence passed between the two. After staring straight ahead for a long while, Aaron pointed toward the locomotive racing along the tracks. His movement was very slow, as if turning the page of a book.

“The era of monarchy ended long ago.”

His voice, stripped of vitality, held no emotion. There was no trace of the wealth and glory he had enjoyed, nor any lingering attachment or longing.

“Someday, kings and nobles alike will all vanish.”

MacQuan swallowed a dry breath and clenched both fists. Even though he wanted to step just a little closer, the sins of the past gripped his ankles and would not let go. Despite the heartache and desperation that had driven him to run here without rest.

I cannot tell you that I love you.

Forever.

Forever.

“My father was possessed by a phantom for far too long.”

A long breath, soaked in fatigue, escaped him. His blue eyes remained fixed on the train.

“Now, that phantom is gone. Which means there is no reason for me to be here.”

“……I will spend my entire life begging for forgiveness and living in repentance.”

In the end, the dog, unable to overcome his anxiety, begged his master. It was not a sophisticated manner of speaking, nor a calculated attempt to attack emotions by finding a gap. It was merely a crude, cheap apology where everything was on the surface. It was also a light and irresponsible apology. Even knowing this, MacQuan knew no other way to convey his sincerity.

“…….”

Aaron did not mock him; he remained silent for a moment and then gave a short shake of his head. A smile that almost looked relieved was etched onto his lips.

“I am free now.”

The wind blew again. Hair more brilliant and radiant than the yellowed grass of the season fluttered. On his bloodless face, no wounds remained. No new wounds would ever form on a body that was already as broken as could be. Never, ever again.

“I can go anywhere and do anything.”

Bwaaaaang—

The train whistle sounded again. The long, black piece of modern civilization was rushing from afar at an immense speed. It was a movement fierce enough to demolish the irrational and rotten past. The shimmering water reflecting him stopped somewhere between the past, the present, and the future.

“The time our hours could have faced each other was……”

“Master.”

“I will protect you. Forever, so that no one can lay a finger on you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Aaron.”

“I love you.”

“A long time ago, it was but a fleeting moment.”

The time of the forest had ended.

The memories of the forest had also come to an end.

Hatred and resentment no longer existed. A childish time. A period that was nothing more and nothing less than a prank played by the whim of a god.

At Aaron’s detached reaction, MacQuan bowed his head to hide his eyes. The large hand covering his face trembled hideously. A little more time passed. The master exercised a final bit of patience, allowing the dog’s tedious silence. After a long while, the face revealed bore a smile of resignation, remaining like a scar.

“Do you know?”

Instead of answering, Aaron gazed calmly at MacQuan.

“Since I first saw you at Earl Spencer’s manor, three thousand days and nights have already passed.”

It was a slow gaze, as if taking a great deal of time to remember this current image forever.

“It has been a very long time.”

“…….”

“For a very, very long time, I……”

The deep blue eyes, completely dried and shriveled, narrowed slightly. It was a look containing a question of what meaning there was left. Of course, no answer came.

“I must go.”

Picking up his bag again, Aaron gauged the remaining time. To make the train, he would have to call a carriage as soon as he went down the hill. For once, he regretted the choice to refuse Caliven’s request. Aaron turned around to terminate the meaningless conversation. It was the end.

“Please stop the opium.”

At the plea—or near-plea—reaching his back, Aaron let out a light laugh and stepped away. It was because he recalled a pathetic dog from long ago, sobbing and begging him to please stop the opium. He couldn’t remember how he had responded. Aaron sneered coldly.

“Still as arrogant as ever. I don’t believe you’re in a position to say such things to me.”

Instead of arguing, MacQuan smiled bleakly and bowed his head.

“There is one more thing I wish to ask……”

His dry lips parted slightly.

“Please, no more……”

As the knee-high golden barley brushed softly against him in consolation, his eyes grew hot. MacQuan bit his lip, barely swallowing the pain.

Please, do not wish to die anymore.

The following whisper vanished, buried by the sound of the lover treading through the brush. It was a perfect erasure, one that would never reach the other.

“Aaron.”

There was no such thing as a final farewell. His pace quickened. A gaze full of lingering attachment followed persistently, but it was merely an intangible emotion. Aaron remembered the days when he had thoroughly ruined himself. There wasn’t much time left to make the same mistake. The sobbing of the dog mixed with the damp wind, chasing after him. It was a thick, sticky, and unpleasant air.

My dog.

Swallowing those words that would never become sound, Aaron left the worn and frayed past behind and walked forward, pushing through the barley fields.

“…….”

Until the moment he grew distant and finally vanished from sight, MacQuan stood motionless, staring for a long time at the space where the man who was once his master and lover had disappeared.