IIAD | Chapter 2.9

That was what he said—he was sure of it. Nika couldn’t hear the words, but he saw Baran’s lips form them so clearly.

And in that instant, the wild dogs, sensing Baran’s brief lapse in attention, lunged.

A beast’s fangs sank deep into Baran’s shoulder, tearing flesh. His pained groan blended with the vicious snarls of the pack, and soon, the thick stench of blood seeped through the rain-drenched air.

Nika watched, frozen, as Baran’s red hair, tangled and matted, soaked into the muddy ground.

‘Liar.’

His mind reeled.

When Nika came to his senses, he was already gripping Baran’s deathly cold hand, trying to pull him up. The steady downpour filled the gaps in his consciousness, drumming against his ears.

His bare skin—he had dried himself by the fire earlier—was drenched again. No matter how much he pulled, Baran barely held himself up. Nika finally braced a large hand against Baran’s back, practically hauling him into his arms to prop him up.

Baran, oblivious to Nika’s turmoil, let out a weak, breathless laugh and collapsed against him.

His red hair, plastered messily against his pale skin, partially veiled his blue eyes. It was a relief that the night was dark—Nika had no idea what kind of expression he was making right now. Baran wouldn’t see the confusion and turmoil clouding his face.

The wild dogs had begun retreating the moment Nika stepped in front of Baran. Their tails tucked between their legs, one by one, they slinked away. A few, emboldened by the scent of blood, lingered a while longer, circling with restless hunger, but even they soon vanished into the storm.

It didn’t make sense. Nika hadn’t even threatened them, yet they fled in fear.

But he had no time to dwell on the strangeness of it. Baran’s wounds were the priority.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed the bite had thankfully missed any vital points, but the deep puncture wounds in his shoulder could easily be considered a full-on gouge.

Nika bit down on the hem of his shirt, tearing it into strips. There was no clean cloth around, and though his shirt wasn’t fully dry, this was the best he could do. He wrapped the fabric tightly around Baran’s shoulder, applying firm pressure.

But without any way to disinfect the wound, infection was the real concern. A bad bite from a wild beast could rot flesh or worse—induce madness.

It wasn’t long before Baran, unconscious, began burning with fever. Was it the cold rain that had stolen his body heat, or was it the wound festering already? Nika couldn’t tell.

He could only sit there, helpless, watching over Baran.

Anger simmered within him—an anger so vast it swallowed even his fear. It was maddening, the way his chest clenched with worry, how helpless it made him feel.

Why had the wild dogs appeared?

Why had Baran chased after him?

Why…?

Nika followed the trail of blame, and in the end, he couldn’t escape the crushing truth.

This happened because of him.

If Baran hadn’t followed, if he hadn’t run through storms and distance just to find him, this wouldn’t have happened.

He didn’t know how much time passed. The storm raged on, the wind howling with distant thunder, when Baran’s eyelids fluttered open.

Nika exhaled sharply. Only then did he realize how hard he had been holding his breath.

“You shouldn’t have come looking for me.”

It wasn’t a sharp remark thrown just to wound. Nika meant it—he truly believed Baran should never have cared whether he ran away or not.

Baran, faced with that hollow expression, blinked in silence. His cheeks were still flushed from the lingering fever.

“I feel dizzy.”

Mumbling drowsily, Baran cut off the conversation with a half-hearted complaint.

“My Nika.”

Nika quietly reached out, brushing back Baran’s red hair and feeling the heat of his forehead. The fever had gone down from the blazing heat of a few hours ago, but it was still higher than normal.

Baran, nodding off like a docile child as Nika’s large hand rested against his forehead, suddenly jolted awake at the sound of the wind howling through the cave.

Then, he caught sight of Nika—shirtless, tending to him all this time.

Startled, he jerked back, only to be met with a searing pain in his shoulder. A groan escaped him before he could stop it.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It hurts like hell, though.”

Baran instinctively responded, then glanced down at his shoulder, which was now wrapped in long strips of torn fabric. He reached up, fingers brushing the makeshift bandages.

“You did this?”

Nika nodded in silent confirmation.

“Thanks.”

Another nod. Slow, deliberate, and nothing more.

“Your fever hasn’t fully subsided. Lie down and rest a little longer. It’s impossible for you to return to Taltamio Castle in this weather. I’ll return the horse I rode here to you. You should wait out the storm and leave once the skies clear.”

“Nika. Why won’t you look at me?”

It was clear Nika wanted to end the conversation.

So, Baran resorted to a slightly underhanded trick to catch his attention—grasping his wounded shoulder and letting out a pained sound.

The reaction was instant.

A rough, calloused hand immediately pressed down over his injury.

“Baran. Baran, are you alright? Does it hurt a lot?”

Nika’s pale face was tight with panic, breath caught in his throat as he pressed around the wound. His large, cool hands gripped between Baran’s neck and shoulder, applying steady pressure.

Baran covered Nika’s hand with his own.

Only then did Nika realize he’d been tricked. His brows furrowed deeply, but he said nothing to reprimand him.

Seeing an opportunity, Baran gave a cheeky grin and pressed a light kiss to the back of Nika’s hand.

“Finally, you’re looking at me.”

Heat bloomed from the point of contact.

Nika instinctively tried to pull away, twisting his hand back, but it was useless. Baran had already interlaced their fingers with a soft, easy smile.

And just like that, Nika lost all strength to resist.

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a weak protest—petulant, almost.

“Don’t come near me. Don’t talk to me.”

The words alone should have been enough to push Baran away.

Baran always paid close attention—he could tell when Nika wanted something and when he didn’t.

Even now, Baran hesitated, ready to let go.

But then Nika was the one grasping him first, fingers tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

Baran’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He chose not to say anything, unwilling to fluster Nika any more than he already was.

“Just for a moment. Stay like this.”

Nika let out a trembling breath. His exhale was laced with something barely suppressed—something dangerously close to a sob. Even through his fever, Baran was at a loss.

Nika’s always pale complexion was now stained with color. His lips, pressed tight to hold back whatever storm of emotion raged inside him, quivered slightly.

It was as if the dam had finally cracked. A single tear slid down his cheek. Then another. Silent, endless tears fell one after another, unchecked, swallowed only by the darkness.

“I heard what you said to the butler.”

Tears swelled so fiercely that Baran’s face appeared distorted to Nika. Desperate to see him more clearly, Nika rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears swiftly filled them again.

“Ah, I always knew this moment would come, I was always prepared. Like it was all just child’s play… When I heard you wanted to end it, it felt like I was being told to finally wake up from a dream. I always intended to humbly accept it if you grew tired of me, to return to where I originally belonged. But it turned out to be harder than I thought.”

Realizing that no matter how much he wiped his tears, he couldn’t stop them, Nika buried his face in both hands, trying to hide the surely unsightly mess of his expression.

“You were the only happiness I’ve ever had since the moment I was born. Having something at all took courage—but letting go took far more than that. Without you, it would always be night for me. And I… I just didn’t have the strength to endure such a long night.”

“……”

“So I left.”

Baran let out a trembling sigh.

This was the price of his selfishness.

He had always known—how much weight the word lover would hold for a young Nika who had never been allowed to have anything of his own. But in the end, he had been too desperate to quench his own thirst, so he had told a lie. And now, Nika was paying the price—a price he never should have had to bear.

When Baran had been drowning in self-loathing, unable to handle even himself, Nika slowly lifted his gaze.

Even through his pain, he had never let go of his irredeemable feelings. And so, despite still crying, his lips curled into an unreadable smile—an expression neither wholly joyful nor wholly sorrowful, caught in the stormy in-between.

“I never expected you to come looking for me.”

This was a second chance. The last opportunity to undo the choices of the past.

Baran knew that.

As Nika wiped his eyes and tossed another handful of damp firewood into the flames, the fire sputtered with a loud crackle.

For Baran, there were two paths before him. He could beg Nika to return with him. Or he could do what he should have done from the very start—set him free.

The better path was clear.

Nika had belonged to Princess Suri in the first place. The physician had even said that, in time, his memories would return. He hadn’t shown any changes while staying with Baran, but if he went back to the princess, back to an environment he was familiar with, it was inevitable that his memories would resurface. And soon enough, Lord Nika would return to the life he was meant to live.

‘Is it wise to keep going when you already know the ending?’

Baran took a deep breath.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

A thick lump clogged his throat, trapping every tangled thought inside.

Nika’s gaze was steady, but there was something there—something dangerously close to hope.

And the longer Baran hesitated, the more that fragile hope withered away, burning to embers.

“I lied to you. A lot.”

Nika’s expression stiffened.

Baran knew that revealing all his carefully spun lies was the last thing Nika wanted to hear.

“At first, I thought a single lie would be enough to change everything. But it wasn’t. Every thread was tangled in a web, and to keep you from noticing, I had to weave even more of them—so many that by the end of it, even the smallest details of our daily life were built on lies. The most insignificant things, too. Like…”

Baran let out an abrupt, humorless chuckle, as if amused by his own shamelessness.

“Like when I told you that before losing your memory, you knew how to make northern root soup.”

Nika furrowed his brows slightly.