IIAD | Chapter 1.10

It wasn’t one of those dull, worn-out donation books that filled the orphanage. Unusually, this one had a smooth, leather-bound cover.

He thought about returning it to its owner. Maybe it would give him a chance to speak to her, to hear a word of thanks.

But at the same time, he was curious—what kind of story was inside? Just flipping through it for a moment wouldn’t hurt, would it?

So, Nika carefully opened the book and began to skim. He had only recently learned how to read, so it took him a long time.

It was a romance novel, but unlike the usual ones meant for young girls, this one had an unusual protagonist.

It was the story of a prince who fell in love with a woman as large as a house.

After being poisoned by an evil witch, the prince wandered weakly through the forest until he was saved by Enormous, a giant woman who lived hidden in the woods. She nursed him back to health and sent him on his way. But, enchanted by her kind heart, the prince returned to the forest to seek her out once more.

When he saw Enormous’s towering figure, he did not recoil. Instead, he smiled and said:

“You are truly special.” Nika remembered how he read that passage over and over.

He read it until the sun had completely sunk past the horizon and the other children had disappeared for dinner.

In the end, he stole the book and hid it between the rusted frames of his old bed.

Stealing made his young heart race with fear and guilt, but even so, he couldn’t stop himself.

Because even then, the word special had carried a weight that struck deep in his chest.

It felt like a magic spell—one that could make him exist not as a half-blood, not as a dragonkin, not as a mere orphan—but simply as Nika.

It was only natural that, before long, Nika began to yearn for that word.

Every time he was mocked and tormented by the other children or the priests, he would curl up beneath the musty blankets of the orphanage and whisper those words to himself.

You are… truly… special.

Whenever he hated himself so much he wanted to disappear, he imagined someone whispering those words in his ear.

When he clawed at the hateful scales on his skin until they bled, when he wanted to tear out his own eyes for their sharp, inhuman pupils, when he was beaten down into the dirt or sat alone in the shade, swallowing back his tears.

Deep inside, he had always wished for someone—anyone—to tell him that even the ugliest parts of him were special too.

“You’re truly special, Nika.”

He had wished for it.

── .✦

“Don’t cry, please… I said don’t cry. Hm? Just… please.”

Baran fidgeted anxiously, unable to sit still. Nika’s cheeks were soaked, glistening with the steady stream of tears running down his face.

The moment Nika suddenly started crying, Baran felt like he was going to die. He had never seen Nika cry before—not since the day they met. And though Baran was selfish, he had never once wanted to see Nika sad. If it came down to it, he would rather bear all the pain himself than watch Nika suffer.

“…I’m sorry.”

Baran apologized instinctively, feeling miserable at the thought that he had somehow caused this. But Nika just shook his head weakly.

“No, there’s nothing for you to apologize for. It’s just… I was a little surprised.”

Nika tried to continue, but his voice wavered dangerously, and he bit down on his lower lip to keep a sob from escaping.

“I’m really sorry. Please, don’t mind me.”

At that moment, a hand reached out in front of Nika.

Dazed, his gaze followed the details of the hand—rough callouses, scattered scars, a small dot at the fingertip. His eyes traced further, up the wrist, the sleeve of a neatly pressed shirt, and finally, Baran’s face.

The expression there was subdued, touched by melancholy. But Baran, like the prince who had fallen in love with Enormous, looked even more breathtaking when he was swept up in sentiment.

“How could I not care?”

Baran’s fingers gently brushed away a tear clinging to Nika’s chin. Then, following the damp trail left by the falling tears, he slowly traced upwards.

It tickled. Nika let out a tiny, hiccuping laugh, almost like a sneeze.

And then, warmth.

A soft palm cupped his left cheek.

His left cheek.

Nika flinched as if burned.

“It’s dirty.”

The very thought of Baran’s hand brushing against the rough scales on his left cheek—of him feeling their uneven texture against his palm—made Nika want to disappear. He was terrified that Baran’s expression would change, that he would recoil in disgust.

“Let go. Don’t touch me.”

If he had truly wanted to push Baran away, he could have sent him flying across the room. A human had no chance of resisting the strength of a dragonkin.

But Baran only smiled faintly, watching as Nika’s hands weakly fumbled at his wrist, hesitating instead of truly pushing him away.

“You know…”

And then, Baran met Nika’s wide, dark eyes.

That was it. That was the moment he lost all restraint.

Instead of letting go, Baran lifted his other hand and cradled the other side of Nika’s face, enclosing him completely.

Like a marble statue, Nika’s pale face was caught between Baran’s palms. The tears had stopped, but his eyes were still round with shock.

Softly, Baran whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

── .✦

Baran regretted saying those words.

He should have been more patient.

It had seemed so close, just within his grasp, and he had let greed take over. The truth was, he could have waited longer—he should have waited. Considering all the scorn he had endured from Nika, this should have been nothing. But in a moment of selfishness, he had ruined it.

A stray cat never returns once it’s been startled by a hasty approach.

And Nika… Nika was just like a stray cat.

What if Nika dismissed his feelings as nothing more than a joke? What if he never opened up again?

Baran suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The warmth of the candlelit dinner had already vanished, leaving him alone at the table.

The worst part was, he hadn’t even waited for an answer before trying to kiss him. Swept away by the moment, by his own selfish desires, he had completely forgotten how to be considerate of Nika.

Baran slammed his forehead against the table. Once. Twice. A dull thud echoed through the hall.

‘Idiot. Baran Taltamio, you idiot.’

It was no surprise that Nika had run away in shock.

With his face burning a furious red, Nika had shot up from his seat, glaring at Baran for what felt like an eternity before finally bolting.

At first, Baran had instinctively tried to follow him, but then he saw it—that rigid, unwavering back.

And for a brief, terrifying moment, he saw a glimpse of the old Nika—the cold, merciless knight who had once looked at him with nothing but disdain.

Fear gripped him so suddenly that his legs refused to move.

Instead of chasing after him, Baran collapsed back into his seat like a crumbling ruin.

“…I got too full of myself. And I was impatient.”

He covered his face with both hands, shrouding his vision in darkness.

“I let myself believe I already had him. When really, all I did was trap him, isolate him, taking advantage of the fact that he has nowhere else to go.”

Self-loathing seeped into his bones, filling him like heavy, suffocating mud. It felt like it was rising all the way to the top of his head, drowning him from the inside out.

His chest felt unbearably tight.

Baran curled in on himself, shoulders slumped.

“Nika will never—someone like me—never…”

The overwhelming sense of helplessness drained every last bit of strength from his body. Even his fingertips and toes felt numb.

But then, the absurdity of just sitting there, wallowing in misery, hit him like a slap to the face.

What the hell was he doing?

Nika hadn’t reverted back to his ruthless, unfeeling self—not yet.

There was still a chance.

And Baran… Baran had already started down this path. Now, there was no turning back.

“No time to sit around like a damn fool. Nika could remember everything at any moment. And when that happens, he’ll hate me even more than he did before.”

Baran recalled the cold, sharp glare Nika had once given him.

‘More than that?’

The thought made him let out a bitter laugh.

“…So, before that happens.”

As if in a trance, Baran rose to his feet, staggering slightly as he walked. Then, catching sight of his own disheveled reflection in the window, he muttered, “Not like this. No way.”

He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place. Then, he straightened his clothes and squared his shoulders, inhaling deeply.

Steady. Controlled. This wasn’t over yet.

── .✦

The reason he had come to love him so hopelessly was, first of all, because of those words.

“It’s okay.”

And then, the awkward hand that hesitantly pulled him into an embrace. The clumsy yet sincere words of concern that followed. The quiet relief in his voice. The way he always listened intently, even to the trivial chatter of an outsider like Baran. And those pure, beast-like eyes…

Baran couldn’t possibly list all the countless moments that had made him fall for him. But one of them, without a doubt, was watching Nika train in secret.

The mansion where Prince Ansalate gathered his forces had a separate training ground for knights. But Nika didn’t always train there. Instead, he would often practice swordsmanship alone in a secluded corner of the garden. Thinking about it now, maybe there was a subtle form of ostracization among the knights.

Either way, for Baran, it was a stroke of luck—because it meant he could have Nika’s elegant swordplay all to himself on those late nights. Every night, Baran would sneak into the garden and watch Nika from behind the trees.

There was one time when he got caught. He had been crouched behind the bushes, mesmerized by the way Nika’s sword glimmered under the moonlight, when he let his greed get the better of him. He had crept too close—close enough that even Nika, who was used to sensing presences, could notice him.

“Who’s there?”

Nika pressed the tip of his sword right under Baran’s chin. Then, as the clouds parted and moonlight illuminated the space between them, he carefully studied Baran’s face.

He remembered this scrawny little thing, with his straw-like hair and pitiful frame. Nika had never particularly sought him out or interfered with him, but he still felt a certain responsibility for bringing him here.

Lowering his sword somewhat awkwardly, Nika spoke in a tone that was meant to be gentle—though his naturally blunt voice didn’t carry it well.

“Ah. It’s you.”