IIAD | Chapter 1.4

Baran felt an overwhelming urge to grab the physician by the collar. His blue eyes burned as he turned to Nika.

Nika, curled in on himself like a frightened child, looked completely lost. It was too much. Seeing the man who had always been cold as stone looking so uncertain left Baran completely defenseless. His hardened expression melted in an instant.

“The proper way to confirm memory loss is through a series of questions, Marquis,” the physician explained. “If you’ll allow it…”

Baran didn’t even hesitate when the physician asked to borrow parchment, ink, and a quill. Since there was no desk in the bedroom, the physician had to use a thick book as a makeshift writing surface, awkwardly balancing it as he prepared to document the responses.

“Let us begin. Patient, what is your name?”

Nika simply hunched his shoulders and remained silent, glancing around uncertainly.

“Your name. Do you understand the question?”

Still, no answer.

The physician was already considering a serious case of amnesia, just as Baran carefully moved closer and sat beside Nika. The moment he did, Nika flinched and shrank back.

It was almost comical—Nika was a whole head taller than Baran, yet curled up like that, Baran looked bigger.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Slowly—carefully, as if handling a frightened animal—Baran reached out and placed his hand over Nika’s.

Baran had always loved Nika’s hands the most.

Rough. Calloused. Uneven. Cold.

And now, they sat completely still in his grasp—no resistance at all.

A strange, unfamiliar joy sparked in Baran’s chest.

“…It’s the opposite, really,” Baran murmured softly. “You can trust me. I’m here to protect you.”

Nika hesitated.

His gaze slowly lifted to meet Baran’s.

Something about those words must have struck a chord—his black eyes trembled slightly.

“The physician will ask you a few questions,” Baran said. “Just answer them.”

The questioning resumed.

“What is your name?”

“…Nika. I have no surname.”

“And what about your family or close acquaintances? Do you remember anyone?”

“…I am an orphan. I was raised without parents in a temple orphanage.” Nika stopped suddenly, glancing at Baran.

His brows knitted together in the tiniest, most uncertain frown. He looked oddly… cute. Like a child debating whether or not to say something.

He was obviously hesitating—uncertain if this was something he needed to share.

“…I have no family. No one I would call a friend.”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Baran stared at him.

Nika, lonely?

Nika, who had always carried himself as if he needed no one?

For the first time, Baran realized—Nika must have known loneliness, too.

He had heard stories before—about how beast-blooded children like Nika were often abandoned, neglected, and subjected to cruelty.

The thought twisted his insides.

Baran almost reached out to comfort him, but caught himself just in time. Instead, he raked his hands over his face in an attempt to push down the unbearable feeling of sympathy.

The rest of the questions went by without much difficulty. What he ate yesterday. The layout of the town. Basic memory recall.

Nika answered them all with ease.

It was enough to make the word “amnesia” feel completely ridiculous.

But if his memory was fine… then why did he feel so different?

Why didn’t he recognize Baran?

The physician, now looking completely perplexed, adjusted his spectacles and asked the final question.

“What is your age?”

“…Eighteen.”

The physician’s eyes widened as he finally grasped a clue from the immediate response. Baran, equally shocked, stared intently at Nika.

When Baran first met Nika seven years ago, the man had already passed the age of twenty. While his exact age was unknown, he should be nearing thirty by now. So hearing him say he was eighteen made Baran feel disoriented. Only Nika, oblivious to the situation, blinked in confusion, unaware of what was wrong.

The physician cleared his throat a few times before motioning for Baran to step outside the room. Discussing symptoms in front of a patient experiencing mental confusion would only increase his distress. Baran crossed his arms and agreed.

“It’s partial amnesia. He appears to have no memory of anything beyond the age of eighteen.”

“So that means he’s forgotten everything about the civil war.”

A strange sense of relief stirred within him. Nika, with no memory of the civil war. It had been seven years since that brutal conflict swept across the land. Nika had undoubtedly witnessed countless horrors and unbearable filth.

Perhaps forgetting those unpleasant memories was a blessing in disguise. He had likely erased not only the war, the prince, and the duke from his mind but also the existence of Baran Taltamio and everyone else.

Which meant Nika had also—

“He must have forgotten about the princess.”

It was such an obvious fact that there wasn’t a soul in the world unaware of Nika’s devotion to Princess Suri. Even the princess herself knew.

Whenever Nika gazed at her profile with wistful eyes, the princess would deliberately draw attention to herself, as if showing off a rare ornament.

After her husband’s death, the princess had devoted herself to charitable works under the temple’s guidance, pouring her efforts into philanthropy. To secure funding, she hosted numerous events, employing every skill at her disposal to garner sympathy from the wealthy.

For a beast bloodline knight like Lord Nika, who had risen to knighthood under her patronage, his very existence served as the perfect example of her benevolence.

If the princess had ever stood before a crowd of affluent, hypocritical nobles and asked Nika to act like a reformed savage, saved by divine mercy, he would have obeyed without question. Baran was certain of it. Nika was the type to discard his honor without hesitation if it was for the princess.

But now… what if Nika no longer remembered the princess?

Something dark and insidious slithered up from within Baran.

“I can’t guarantee whether his memory will return. It’s more likely a temporary condition caused by shock. In most cases like this, memories naturally recover after a while.”

“…….”

“I’ll prepare a medicinal tonic to help stabilize him and support his memory recovery.”

“You are to keep this matter a secret.”

Baran gave the physician a firm order to stay silent and dismissed him. Then, those long-suppressed thoughts surged back into his mind.

Nika had once said that the princess was everything to him. Whether he still remembered saying that or not was unclear. But Baran knew one thing for certain—Nika’s feelings ran deeper than anyone assumed. It was impossible to turn his heart away from her, not even in a lifetime.

Baran recalled that moment. A late spring battlefield, under the blazing red sun.

The sweat pooling inside his armor had made the battle twice as grueling.

In the chaos of war, Nika rode a sleek black horse. Baran had watched him amidst the clashing weapons, the shattering of limbs, the spray of blood and flesh.

Watching over him had always been Baran’s duty, but that day, he was unusually irritated.

Because of the woman with red hair, whom Nika was clutching protectively against his chest.

For the first time, Baran had felt an unfamiliar, murderous urge. He wanted to kill her. Desperately. But every possible means of doing so would have also endangered Nika at his side.

So he had done nothing.

The knights’ relentless arrows eventually brought Nika’s horse to its knees, sending him tumbling to the ground. Fueled by their rising morale, the enemy knights charged at Nika and the princess.

Baran stepped forward to intercept them.

“I’ll handle this.”

The sight of a commander personally cutting down the enemy leader always made for a convincing image. All the knights stepped back, silently granting their commander, Baran, the right to take Nika’s head.

“Vile…! Marquis, you damned hound of the duke!”

Nika growled like a wild beast, practically spitting out Baran’s name. Baran, forgetting even the situation, was momentarily intoxicated. Insults, disdain—it didn’t matter. When they passed through those magical lips, they became more beautiful than the noblest of words.

“Yes, Lord Nika. It’s me!”

Baran laughed in euphoria, thrilled just to hear his name spoken by Nika, even if it was through a curse. He was met with a stare as if he were insane.

“The only thing His Highness the Duke wants is the princess. If you hand her over, you’ll be spared.”

Baran remembered chuckling a little at those words. It was too ridiculous. What would happen if Nika refused to hand over the princess? Baran couldn’t bring himself to harm Nika, nor could he bear to watch someone else do it.

In the end, the sword was in Nika’s hands. Even if he didn’t realize it himself.

“Betraying the princess would be worse than an honorable death.”

And Nika, without even knowing it, wielded that sword more skillfully than anyone. Every time Baran saw his face, filled with fiery passion for the princess, he sank into helplessness. And yet, despite everything, even that expression was lovable.

But now… Nika, who had once loved her so much, had forgotten her. Baran slowly lifted his darkened gaze.

If Nika had forgotten her, then perhaps he could show that same look again… but this time, for Baran. With just a few lies and a little deception, it could be done.

A flicker of conscience and an earnest, lingering love rebelled against the thought.

How dare you claim to love him while deceiving him like this?

How dare you, how dare you.

‘This is no different from toying with his heart.’

Standing before his bedroom door, Baran gripped the handle tightly. It was a strange feeling, hesitating to enter his own room.

‘…If he regains his memories, he’ll despise me.’

He opened the door.

‘Despise me? He already did. He’s always looked down on me, called me the duke’s hound, a treacherous rat. I have nothing left to lose.’

His steps were unsteady as he walked inside.

‘If he would smile at me just once… then he can loathe me, ignore me, or treat me as if I never existed after that. I wouldn’t mind.’

The canopy of the bed came into view, layered like the delicate wings of an insect. Nika, still recovering, was resting beneath it. As Baran looked at the silhouette beyond the veil, his face twisted as if he were about to cry.

‘I deserve this. I’ve loved him in silence for seven years…’

He kept murmuring to himself, trying to soothe the discomfort bubbling inside him. Self-pity welled up like a spring, convincing him that if anyone deserved to be Nika’s lover, it was him. His pale face regained color through sheer justification. Yes, he had suffered for Nika. He had been hurt because of him. He deserved his love. And now, at long last, it was time to be rewarded.

However, when Nika’s cautious voice came from beyond the veil, asking, “Who are you?” in all sincerity, Baran felt his entire being crumble into dust.