IIAD | Chapter 1.7

At first, it had been a shock to learn that the arrogant man who had shaken him awake was none other than Prince Ansalate himself. But once he got used to it, it didn’t seem like such a big deal.

The prince was just as haughty as his first impression suggested, but being a royal with the blood of the Ancient Dragon, it was probably impossible not to be arrogant.

He was also shrewd and perceptive.

In fact, he was the first to notice Baran’s feelings.

After catching him sneaking glances at Nika in the training yard, the prince began teasing him mercilessly.

Baran suffered greatly, spending most of his days avoiding the prince’s torment.

The nature of their relationship shifted when the prince made an offer.

Somehow—despite all Baran’s efforts to keep it hidden—the prince had found out his true lineage.

One day, without warning, he shoved the door open with a bang.

“Kid! So you’re the rightful heir of Taltamio! Looks like Lord Nika had quite the foresight when he picked you up.”

Hearing that irked Baran.

Nika had saved him purely out of kindness, but the prince had twisted it into some calculated strategy. His words left a bad taste in Baran’s mouth.

“With the name Ansalate Dracoson, I swear to help you reclaim what is rightfully yours,” the prince declared. “In return, you will become my most valuable piece on the board.

“In the war to come, you will stand at the duke’s side—deceiving him, playing the perfect pawn. When the time is right, you will bring him down from within.”

He intended to send Baran straight into enemy lines as a spy.

Baran was still just a boy, but that wasn’t the important part.

What mattered was that the name Taltamio still held value.

His parents were long gone. His brother had left. And his uncle had tried to kill him to steal the very family name he now hesitated to offer up in a game of political warfare.

I don’t want to be a pawn in a fight for the throne.

But swaying a hesitant boy was child’s play for a serpent like Ansalate.

With a refined smile, the prince gently brushed his fingers through Baran’s hair as if he were nothing but a brittle strand of straw.

“When I return victorious with the duke’s severed head, I will give you a seat on my right hand.

“I promise you this.

“And in exchange for your hard work, I’ll grant you anything you desire. Whatever it is that your gloomy little eyes want—surely, there must be something you long for. Hmm? Something you want.”

“…Something I want?” Prince Ansalate whispered like a devil straight out of folklore. The moment he asked, something came to mind.

Baran hesitated.

Catching the flicker in his gaze, the prince smirked knowingly, his smile deceptively sweet—as if he hadn’t insulted Baran just days ago, calling him a slab of meat or a dead fish.

He spoke as if he was certain Baran wouldn’t refuse.

And true to his words, Baran found that he couldn’t reject him outright.

His lips parted, but he hesitated.

Then—he remembered.

That night. The suffocating darkness of the forest. The way those hands had held him so close, refusing to let him fall apart.

With trembling fingers, Baran covered his face. A quiet voice seeped through his fingertips.

“…What I want is—”

── .✦

“The reason I endured that god-awful deal with the prince, Raymond.”

Baran slowly lifted his head.

The hesitation and turmoil that had clouded his face were gone—wiped clean. In their place was something almost refreshing. A perfectly drawn smile settled onto his lips, the kind that only appeared when he was truly confident.

“It’s because there was something I absolutely wanted to have.”

Before falling in love with Nika, Baran had believed that love was something beautiful, something sacred.

Now?

Now he knew better.

Every time he was forced into this tug-of-war—between the man himself and his own feelings—it became painfully clear just how ugly love could be.

After seven years of agony, Baran had finally made his choice.

He was choosing himself.

Even if the world called him selfish—even if they scorned him—it didn’t matter.

“Ray, do you know why people call one-sided love a mental illness?”

“If you’re asking for academic reasoning, I’m not sure. But from what I’ve seen with my own eyes? I understand.”

“Hah.”

Baran let out a dry chuckle, unfazed by Raymond’s biting remark.

Propping his chin on one hand, he leaned back into his chair, his head tilting as he spoke with a chilling sense of composure—fully prepared to take responsibility for everything he was about to do.

“When Nika regains his memories, he won’t forgive me. So before that happens, I’m going to blind his eyes, block his ears, and lock him inside Taltamio Castle.”

His voice turned almost playful.

“You can even call it my last wish.”

At first, Raymond looked merely curious.

But after staring into Baran’s blue eyes for a long moment, his expression twisted into an ugly frown.

He knew what Baran was about to say next.

His face paled—so much so that he looked impressed by the sheer audacity of it. Then, he clicked his tongue in sheer exasperation.

“Your love is sickening.”

And yet—he said nothing more.

He already knew there was no changing Baran’s mind.

“Aww, such high praise.”

Baran shrugged, just as a servant knocked on the office door.

When he called for them to enter, a cautious figure stepped inside. It was the physician.

The doctor reported that the medicine had been delivered to Nika.

According to him, Nika’s condition was most likely the result of severe mental stress. The best course of action was to keep him as calm as possible.

Which meant that medicine—whatever it was—was definitely laced with something strong.

Baran knew those kinds of drugs well.

It would flow through the bloodstream in minutes.

His fingertips would go numb, his body heavy with lethargy. Thoughts would slow.

By now, Nika might already be asleep.

Someone had to stay by his side.

He would be confused, waking up in an unfamiliar place, alone.

Baran had to go see him.

As he stood to leave, Raymond practically screeched in protest.

“What—?! I thought you finally came here to handle your actual work—and now you’re leaving already?!”

“Good luck, my dear butler.”

Ignoring the string of colorful curses spilling from the office behind him, Baran laughed and hurried toward Nika’s room.

The very thought of wanting to see him—and being able to act on it right away—felt like a dream.

His footsteps, initially measured and composed, gradually picked up speed.

Before he realized it, he was running.

Servants in the hallway startled at the sight of the infamous Marquis bolting down the corridor. They bowed hastily, but Baran didn’t spare them a glance.

His focus was locked on the doors at the end of the hall.

Nika is there. Just beyond that door.

Why does even the air feel intoxicating?

Why do you always turn my entire world upside down?

As he reached the door, he slowed his frantic pace, coming to a halt just before it.

He strained his ears, listening for any sounds from inside.

Silence.

Had he already fallen asleep?

Knocking might disturb him.

Baran hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob, before slowly pushing the door open.

Peering cautiously through the gap, he then stepped inside.

It was a room he had always slept in—yet tonight, it felt unfamiliar. Like he was stepping into it for the very first time.

Baran felt a little embarrassed sneaking in without even knocking—especially since Nika was already awake. Not only that, but he was standing tall in the middle of the room, fully alert.

Hearing Baran’s presence, Nika turned sharply towards the door, his expression betraying a moment of surprise. But the truly astonishing part? Nika actually remembered Baran’s name and, without thinking, spoke it out loud.

“Baran.”

The moment Baran heard his name pass through Nika’s lips, his body flinched.

He stood there, frozen, unable to part his lips for a long time. His mouth twitched a few times before pressing shut again. That deep, steady voice—one he had always loved—had just spoken his name, and the impact of it sent ripples through his heart.

‘He called my name.’

A faint sheen of moisture welled up in Baran’s eyes.

‘So when he asked for my name earlier… when he thanked me… it wasn’t a dream. Nika actually called me ‘Baran’ with his own voice.’

Before he could look pathetic, Baran quickly blinked away the dampness in his eyes and composed himself.

“Sorry. I thought you’d be asleep.”

He barely managed to pull himself together to offer that excuse, but Nika’s gaze only grew sharper. Baran suddenly felt as if he had bitten his own tongue.

“Yeah. But barging in without knocking is still rude, you know. I get it. You just wanted to check on me while I was sleeping and leave, right?”

Nika’s wariness softened slightly, though he still looked like a bristling cat. To assure him he meant no harm, Baran raised both hands in surrender and took a careful step closer.

Even without his memories, Nika was still the same—the black hair, the sturdy build, the firm set of his lips, and the sharp wariness in his gaze. The only difference was his expression. Every step Baran took toward him made his face waver with a rare, nervous unease.

Gods. Baran mentally cursed. Each time Nika bit his lip or looked up at him with those dark, animal-like eyes, a heat surged through him, making his head spin.

“Nika, you didn’t drink it.”

Baran’s gaze landed on the untouched medicine bowl sitting on the bedside table. His tone was mildly reproachful, but to Nika, it sounded oddly unfamiliar—almost ticklish.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

Nika spoke, eyeing Baran warily as he picked up the bowl.

“Unless it’s something incredibly strong, medicine doesn’t affect me.”

“Really?”

“It’s the same for all those with dragon blood.”

That was news to Baran. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at Nika. If medicine didn’t work on him, then insisting he take it was pointless. Besides, even if it did work, Nika wasn’t the type to swallow something given to him by a stranger without question.

A brief silence fell between them before, unexpectedly, Nika was the one to break it.

“I thought it was a joke at first. But then, the physician who brought the medicine showed me a mirror.”

Nika clenched his fists, staring down at his rough, scarred hands with an uncertain expression. Baran couldn’t quite tell what emotions were swirling inside him.

“I was shocked when I saw my reflection. I looked older. I was taller, too…”

The way Nika frowned in deep contemplation was so unintentionally adorable that Baran couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, completely ruining the serious mood.

Nika immediately shot him a sharp glare, and Baran had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing any further.