IIAD | Chapter 1.9

Sure, it followed proper etiquette, but if he and Nika sat at opposite ends, the distance would be absurd. At best, he’d only be able to make out a vague outline of Nika’s expression.

His hand, which had been smoothing out the tablecloth, hesitated as his expression fell into a small pout. He tried to think of a reasonable excuse to rearrange the seating so they could sit closer together, but no clever idea came to mind. In the end, he had to abandon the thought of sitting side by side with Nika. A heavy disappointment settled in his chest, like damp cotton weighing him down.

“Where is Lord Nika?”

“He has yet to arrive. Matilda has taken responsibility for escorting him, so there’s no need to worry.”

Baran nodded. Matilda had been working for the Taltamio family for twenty years. When he had first begun carrying out the secret orders of the prince, all the unreliable servants in Taltamio Castle had been dismissed, leaving only those who were tight-lipped and trustworthy. Those with families had been let go first, as they were considered more vulnerable to threats. Security had been the highest priority.

── .✦

Nika awkwardly adjusted the jacket he was wearing. The sleeves were a bit short. It was obviously Baran Taltamio’s clothing. The stiff, starched collar scraped against his skin with a rustling sound.

Walking through the grand halls of Taltamio Castle, Nika felt stiff and out of place. He felt like the only impurity floating around in a space that was otherwise spotless. The castle was rugged, thick, and imposing, pressing down on him from above, making his shoulders feel heavy.

“This way, my Lord.”

A maid of the Taltamio household led him forward, her attitude far too polite for how one would usually treat a mere commoner. The overly respectful treatment made Nika’s skin crawl.

By the time the maid reached the towering wooden doors of the banquet hall and pushed them open, Nika felt like he was about to shrink into the floor.

“My Lord, Lord Nika has arrived.”

The elderly maid, her wrinkled hands tucked neatly beneath her apron, announced his presence with perfect decorum. The moment Nika stepped into the hall, he was overwhelmed by the sight—the beautifully arranged dining table, the warm lighting, the mouthwatering aroma of the dishes. Any remaining grip on reality seemed to slip away.

At the head of the table stood a young man with striking red hair, carefully adjusting a vase of white lilies. Upon hearing footsteps, he swiftly turned around.

“Nika.” Baran was already smiling—brightly, radiantly—before their eyes even met.

Nika couldn’t help but admire him for a second. He was breathtakingly flawless. Unlike earlier, now he was even properly dressed, looking every bit the part of a prince.

‘Why does someone like him smile at me like that? Like he’s barely holding back, stuffing his laughter into his pockets until the weak stitches finally burst open.’

Nika just couldn’t understand it.

“My god, I thought this outfit would suit you, but seeing it with my own eyes… It’s even better than I imagined. You look absolutely stunning.”

Baran spoke in a dazed, almost dreamy voice as he took in the sight of Nika in fine clothing.

When Nika startled at the compliment and instinctively took a step back, Baran panicked and quickly shut his mouth.

“Oh, right. You told me not to say that. My bad.”

Now that Baran had actually stopped the compliments, strangely, Nika felt even more embarrassed. He was never good with words, so instead of coming up with a clever response, he just stood there, staring.

Then, suddenly realizing that staring in silence was rude, he began to fidget.

“Come on, Nika.”

Thankfully, before Nika could get even more tangled in his own thoughts, Baran pulled out a chair and motioned for him to sit.

When Nika hesitantly obeyed, Baran’s fingers lingered on the round edge of the chair for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

“I have a lot of questions.”

“Nika! I get it, really, but let’s eat first, alright? You haven’t had a proper meal in ages. You must be starving.”

Baran deliberately changed the subject. He didn’t want this rare, dreamlike moment to be ruined by heavy conversation.

Nika wasn’t pleased, but his expression barely changed. His face always looked rigid, making it hard to tell what he was thinking.

Still, the fragile peace Baran had created through his evasion didn’t last long. Nika ignored the food and kept asking questions.

“So, how old am I?”

“……”

“And people keep calling me ‘Lord.’ Isn’t that a title only given to knights?”

Baran set down his fork, which he had been idly pushing his salad around with.

This guy… so oblivious.

It didn’t matter if he was eighteen or any other age—his inability to read the atmosphere remained exactly the same.

Baran tried to force a smile, but it didn’t come out as naturally as he wanted.

Every time Nika asked about the person he was before losing his memory, Baran felt like he was clutching a treasure, only for it to slip away like fine sand between his fingers.

It was selfish of him.

“I have too many questions.”

Nika interpreted Baran’s small sigh in his own way. He was convinced that Baran must have found his repeated questions rude.

“I apologize for bothering you. I know you’ve already shown far more kindness than someone as insignificant as me—a mere half-blood—deserves. But still…”

“I told you not to say things like that.”

Baran cut him off with a weary smile, stopping him before his anxious rambling could continue. He absentmindedly twisted the frills of the tablecloth that draped over his lap, lost in thought.

“But if we’re going to have a conversation, we should sit a little closer.”

At last, Baran had found a proper excuse to move Nika closer. His expression brightened.

“You said you only remember up until you were eighteen? Honestly, there’s a lot I don’t know about your childhood either. You never liked talking about your past. But when it comes to your life as an adult, no one knows more about it than I do.”

Baran began his story, making sure not to miss a single movement of Nika’s expression. As he spoke, Nika noticed something—unlike his red hair, Baran’s fluttering eyelashes were golden.

“The reason people call you ‘Lord Nika’ is simple: you’re a knight. You became a kingdom knight at a young age, barely past twenty, and made remarkable achievements in the borderlands. Eventually, His Majesty himself summoned you to the capital and granted you a position as a royal knight. That’s not something just any knight gets.”

Baran spun a tale as sweet and grand as something out of a legend. According to him, Nika was one of the most beloved knights in the kingdom, and the number of lives he had saved from peril stretched from the royal capital all the way to the deserts of the southern continent.

“Your life was perfect. Everyone envied you. But during the recent northern campaign against the barbarians, you fell victim to one of their cowardly tricks and suffered a head injury. The physician said your memory loss was due to the impact.”

Lies were only difficult in the beginning. Once started, they could become a seamless, fluent truth. Baran smiled without a single crack in his expression.

He had no intention of reminding Nika about how the kingdom’s people despised him for being a half-blood, or how the princess exploited his feelings for her. He wouldn’t tell him about the horrors of civil war, the betrayals he had suffered, or the vile things he had witnessed.

He didn’t know how long he could keep this lie going, but for now, if nothing else, he wanted to at least show Nika a glimpse of happiness—even if it was just an illusion.

Nika, caught off guard by the unfamiliar words spilling from Baran’s lips, looked genuinely flustered.

“…You expect me to believe that nonsense?”

“But it’s true. You’re the greatest swordsman in the kingdom. It’s only natural that you rose so high.”

“The greatest swordsman in the kingdom?”

Baran leaned in slightly, his red hair falling just enough to graze his ear.

“You were gifted with the sword since you were a child, weren’t you?”

At that, Nika, who had been listening closely, flinched as if he had been burned and jerked back.

Baran couldn’t help but smile, though he tried to suppress it, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“Are you embarrassed?”

A faint pink bloomed across Nika’s cheeks. He stole a glance at Baran’s gentle expression, trying to gauge whether this was truly a story he could trust.

To someone like Nika, who had spent his life pouring his very existence into the sword, the idea of having reached such heights was as intoxicating as hearing he had fulfilled his lifelong dream.

“Achieving that kind of success on your own is something only a true genius could do. I could list at least ten noble brats right now who’ve had top-tier tutors since birth and still can’t even hold a sword properly. Do you realize that, Nika? You…”

Before Baran could finish, Nika lowered his head, as if unable to bear the direct praise. His hair spilled forward, revealing the tips of his bright red ears.

Baran had to restrain himself from blurting out just how much he loved him.

Instead, he slowly counted to ten in his head, trying to suppress the overwhelming emotions surging within him.

Still, a single thread of sincerity slipped through, roughening his voice ever so slightly.

“You’re truly special.”

It was like magic. Nika blinked in a daze.

── .✦

It was from his childhood.

That day, just like always, Nika sat alone in the shaded corner of the orphanage’s backyard, unable to blend in with the other children. From his spot, he could see the boys clashing with crude wooden swords and the girls gathered in small circles, chatting or playing in the dirt.

Deep down, Nika was desperate to join in—either group would do. But if he openly hovered around, hoping for attention, he would only end up getting slapped and tossed onto the ground for not knowing his place as a dragonkin. So crouching in the shadows, watching quietly, was the best option he had.

After observing them for so long, Nika had learned something: when children got too absorbed in their chatter, they sometimes lost track of reality.

For example, on that day, one of the girls, who had been sitting with her friends and talking endlessly for nearly an hour, forgot about the storybook she had brought along. She had tucked it neatly under her arm when she arrived, but now, she left it behind.

Nika, who had been watching the entire time, immediately noticed. He glanced around nervously before creeping out from the shadows, slipping into the sunlight to pick up the book from the empty spot.