#035

Memories flooded in like waves. As if falling into the sea and being swept away by a giant wave, Cullen’s consciousness rapidly merged with someone else’s. Against his will, all sorts of emotions and scenes filled Cullen.

Soon, something began to appear.

‘Marie, I’ll be back.’

Cullen looked down at the red-haired girl, who barely reached his waist. The girl, with a lovely smile, reached out her arms.

‘Have a safe trip, brother.’

‘If I’m lucky today, I might bring back pickled limes. Look forward to it.’

‘Okay, Martin!’

Love overflowed. From the warm scent that enveloped him, Cullen thought of Sasha. Ren, Reen, the black-haired child who called his name drawn out and ran to him. The face that clung to him, unwilling to let go, overlapped with Marie’s.

Martin set out from the morning. His age was too young to work in the mine, so he made a living by gathering firewood or helping to pick fruit.

His mother had to stay home due to her aching joints, and his father was bedridden from years of work in the coal mine. Now, Martin was the breadwinner.

Still, he didn’t dislike it. Because he had his beloved family at home. His parents with their wrinkled eyes who smiled and welcomed him when he returned, and his younger sibling knitting a wool coat for him.

But today, something was strange. At the orchard he always went to, Martin met a man he had never seen before. A man in a blue silk robe, incomparable to Martin’s worn leather clothes.

Mr. Jerome, the owner of the orchard, kept bowing to him, a servile smile on his face. Cullen, though he was Martin, also knew that smile.

The boy had to run.

‘Is it that child?’

‘Yes. But he is from this village, so you must take him elsewhere.’

‘Yes, well done. I’ll pay you for three people.’

‘Thank you, Pellar.’

‘Your hard work will contribute to the development of the territory.’

Three shining gold coins fell into Mr. Jerome’s hand. Martin cautiously tried to call out to him, but then he was lifted by knights who appeared from behind. He was struck on the head.

After waking up, his life became hell.

Martin opened his eyes in a cave filled with unfamiliar adults. In a makeshift shelter built in the middle of the cave, where light could not reach, were boys of Martin’s age. Boys too young and tender to work yet. Children in their prime growing age.

The adults berated them. Pinya, who had asked to be sent home, was struck on the head and bled. The boys who refused to obey were trampled. Fearing the beatings, they began to mine stones.

Red-glowing, bitter and salty stones.

He was very hungry. He had never gone hungry like this when he was home. He was thirsty. His throat felt like it was tearing, and his cough worsened. He couldn’t sit up all day.

It was cold. He was scared. It was dark and murky. I’m scared, Mom. Dad. Marie, are you looking for me?

His sense of time disappeared. Countless hours passed, and Martin’s tanned brown skin began to lose its color, turning white. Around that time, Pinya attempted an escape. Everyone cheered for Pinya.

But Pinya returned the next day as a corpse with a shattered head. More precisely, he fell from above.

Beneath the burst head were many things he had never seen before. A long, white, slimy string, a blood-red lump, Pinya’s green eyes…

Mom, Dad, please save me.

Martin cried. He tried to escape by scratching the wall. But no one could leave this place. Every day, Martin swung a pickaxe, larger than his upper body, against the wall. Until red stones appeared.

The stones, soaked with Pinya’s blood and the blood of the children who came with him, became redder and redder… until it drove Martin mad.

Cullen felt nausea from the suffocating emotions Martin was experiencing. Despair insidiously tightened its grip. Someone grabbed Cullen’s staggering shoulder. He quickly turned around and saw Gale’s face.

‘Why are you here, Cullen?’

Gale’s voice, more fatherly than his fading father. A rough but kind tone. Cullen’s eyes widened. Long-buried longing and weakness surged.

‘Gale?’

Joy erupted. His hands trembled. Cullen’s eyes contorted as he grabbed Gale’s arm. Gale laughed.

‘You still have that cowardly look on your face.’

‘Gale, are you alive?’

Then Gale’s face froze in his laughter. He tilted his head. It tilted further and further to the left. It bent strangely until it was a perfect right angle.

‘Nonsense.’

‘What?’

‘Didn’t you kill us, Cullen? All of us.’

Gale’s skin began to bubble. Bubbles popped on his apricot-colored skin, and it began to melt. Just like that day when he embraced Cullen until the end, even as he burned to death.

‘We all died because of your actions.’

‘Why didn’t you come with us, Cullen?’

Cecil appeared. Kirk appeared, holding his daughters. Julian appeared, limp and headless in his fiancé’s arms. The voices echoed. Cullen stumbled backward, then looked forward again.

‘I was going to.’

He pleaded.

‘I’ll be there soon.’

He cowardly confessed what he thought about every single day.

‘I’ll just get revenge for you, and then I’ll follow right after.’

‘Lies.’

‘You’re still alive.’

‘Die, Cullen.’

‘Die!’

Cecil screamed. Her mouth, torn wide, swallowed Cullen. His stomach felt like it would burst, and he tasted blood in his throat. Cullen fell. His body was weak. He felt like he would die from hunger.

Now, he couldn’t distinguish whether he was feeling it or Martin was. Everything was mixed. Only despair remained.

‘Get up, you useless piece of trash.’

Martin, lying on the floor with his cheek against the ground, raised his eyes. His vision was blurry. He struggled to place his hand on the floor.

Then Martin saw a familiar face. Arne was there. His face, pale with shock, looked at him, holding an armful of herbs. The priest, who was naturally timid, looked at him with tearful eyes.

Kind uncle.

Marie’s good teacher.

Please save me, priest…

Martin whispered. Someone kicked him, unable to get up. Clutching his stomach and making a choking sound, Martin quietly watched the blood dripping onto the floor. The boy realized without anyone telling him. That he was about to die.

Then, if I die… will I be able to go home?

With lips cracked and bleeding, Martin whispered. The boy’s fear and despair solidified into a lump in his chest. Resentment was etched. I really hate you.

I really hate you.

You who…

“Cullen.”

A cough erupted. Warmth flowed down his cheek. The chill enveloped his body, and Cullen clung to the warmth. The sword he held, not wanting to lose it to Arne, clanged to the floor.

A warm, broad embrace enveloped him. Cullen burrowed deeper as if grabbing a life preserver. Sweat matted his forehead and cheeks. Panting, he hunched over. A faint scent spread. The name surfaced in his mind like instinct.

“It’s okay, Cullen. It’s me.”

“Ki, yen…”

“Yes.”

“Kiyen…”

Cullen called his name frantically. His unfocused purple pupils trembled. Kiyen calmly looked down at Cullen, who clutched his shoulders and burrowed into his embrace. His expression was ambiguous. He, who had maintained a poker face, slowly wrapped his arms around Cullen’s back.

“The sword swallowed you.”

“Are you alright, Cullen?”

Lasano’s voice rumbled nearby. Cullen had no energy to respond to anything. The lingering emotions from moments ago gnawed at him like poison. Despair and loneliness crashed down on him like an avalanche. He felt like he was suffocating.

“I… did wrong…”

Gale’s voice kept ringing in his ears. He wanted to die. Dying was the right thing to do. He couldn’t avenge Gale, let alone his family. It was right to follow them.

It would be beneficial for everyone. A being that drove loved ones to death should not have lived this long.

Kiyen stopped Cullen, who twitched his fingers, trying to find the sword again. He firmly pressed Cullen’s wrist and brought his face closer.

“What you saw was an illusion.”

“I, must die…”

Dying seemed easier. He was tormented to the point of madness. Guilt stabbed his heart like thousands of needles. Self-loathing consumed Cullen’s soul.

“Whatever you saw, you must not die here.”

Cullen didn’t properly understand Kiyen’s words. Kiyen, watching him struggle with unfocused eyes and gag, let out a small sigh.

With his other hand, not holding Cullen’s wrist, Kiyen cupped his chin. Their eyes met.

“Calm down.”

After their gazes, their lips met.

His lips were moistened as if water had been poured onto dry earth. The warmth spread softly, melting his body. It was soft and sweet. The delicate flesh, gently rubbing, was fragrant. The fear that had been consuming Cullen scattered in an instant.

Cullen bit down as if biting into fruit. He exhaled a long breath. He nibbled and sucked on the lips touching him. His tongue gently licked his lips as if soothing him. A ticklish sensation spread.

“Haa, ha, ugh…”

A shallow groan escaped him. The tongue that had been gently licking the outside soon dug inside. His long tongue tickled the roof of his mouth. Twisting his body slightly, Cullen tightly pulled Kiyen’s robe.

His mind gradually cleared. But at the same time, it became muddled again in a different way. Excitement slithered up his spine. The space between his thighs hardened, and his hips felt heavy. His body sank down.

The long tongue that had been tickling and licking the roof of his mouth now tangled with Cullen’s. A wet sound was heard. He opened his mouth wildly, twisting his jaw.

Let our tongues tangle more. Let them mix and delve deeper. With the desire to swallow him whole.

What about Kiyen was making him so restless?

Cullen roughly pulled his shoulder. Kiyen willingly lowered his upper body, pushing his tongue in. Cullen felt breathless from the tongue that seemed to fill his throat. Though he felt like he was suffocating, Cullen kept pulling. As if only Kiyen could save him. Earnestly.

Cullen came to his senses the moment he heard Lasano’s clearing throat. He snapped back to reality as if struck on the back of the head. He opened his eyes wide.

Kiyen’s blue eyes were looking directly at him. His own face, reflected in Kiyen’s pupils, was flushed with heat. The fact that he had just had a nightmare about Gale and his companions and then immediately kissed Kiyen poured cold water on his heat.

Cullen pushed him away, gasping for breath. Kiyen slowly pulled back.

“Are you awake?”

His pink lips were swollen and red. Looking at his lips, glistening with his own saliva, Cullen moved his lips. The tips of his ears felt hot.

“I’m… sorry.”

“It’s enough that you’ve come to your senses.”

He said in a voice lower than usual. Kiyen’s muffled voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Cullen placed his hands on the floor and slowly moved away from him. The surroundings gradually came into view. Arne was looking at Cullen with wide, startled eyes, and Lasano had a knowing expression.

“Now I see why you two are so close.”

Cullen belatedly rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. His expression hardened, and he moved his lips. His mind went blank for a moment.

That too was a question.

Why did you wake me with a kiss?

Before he could ask, Kiyen spoke first. His face was impassive.

“It was just easier to calm you down this way. I don’t think slapping your cheek would have worked.”

“Still, one doesn’t usually kiss like that.”

Kiyen slowly stood up and approached Lasano. He said with a crooked smile.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t know. Human standards are unfamiliar to me. Then I shall ask. High Priest, does a normal priest so readily urge death upon someone like you?”