There wasn’t a trace of deceit or secrecy in those eyes. And what Kishiar had said, considering the current situation, was undeniably reasonable.

Even so, Yuder looked at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head.

“Regardless of whether I agree with your reasoning, that method is not feasible.”

“You mean because what happened last time was an accident and can’t be replicated.”

“That’s part of it, yes—but not the whole reason.”

Just as Kishiar said, what Yuder had done last time had been a result of sheer coincidence. Among the tangled flows of energy before him now, there was no way of knowing which one had triggered rut. If he carelessly interfered again and caused some unforeseen outcome, what then?

Of course, untangling energy itself wasn’t a harmful act. Yuder didn’t think it would endanger Kishiar’s life...

“But just look—this current rut has returned in this form after being postponed once already. Even if I were to succeed again in stopping it... who’s to say what kind of changes or consequences it might have on the symptoms and form of your next rut?”

“That—”

“I know you’d say it’s fine anyway.”

Kishiar fell silent at Yuder’s words. Yuder continued in a quiet tone.

“Even if the previous precursors were more painful and what you’re experiencing now feels milder, we can’t guarantee that will be the case next time. Imagine if... your body ends up filled with even more energy than now.”

Yuder’s gaze drifted to Kishiar’s inner state. Even now, the sheer volume of power he held defied belief. If that increased any further, even Kishiar might be unable to protect his vessel. And what came after... Yuder didn’t want to imagine.

“...You, more than anyone, know that having more power doesn’t always mean something good.”

A man who had once walked the path toward death because of his excessive strength would know that all too well.

“......”

“So even if I could do what you’re asking now... I would still refuse. Unless I was absolutely certain.”

Kishiar’s lips moved faintly.

“You mean certain that ‘I’ would be safe.”

“Yes.”

As Yuder answered, he tightened the grip on the hand still resting atop Kishiar’s clenched fist.

Maybe it was hypocritical to say this—after all, he was the one who’d once taken Kishiar’s life. But letting the rut run its natural course while preparing for what came after still felt far more reasonable than touching his body again without certainty.

And beyond that...

“There’s no way you haven’t already thought of what I just said. You must have known I’d respond this way. Didn’t you?”

“......”

“You said it would be best to monitor the situation and wait, if possible. But that comment just now... it didn’t feel like it came only from that reasoning. Like when you said it’d be better than going to the tower alone.”

After that, Yuder fell silent and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he made a silent wish.

That he might be able to understand the feelings this man before him was hiding in the ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) deepest parts of his heart.

“I believe... you’re misunderstanding something. Even if rut were to start right now—why would that mean you have to go to the tower alone? Do you really think I would let that happen?”

The moment that sharp and heavy sentence ended, the hand lying quietly under Yuder’s palm flinched.

At the same time, Yuder sensed them—the bright threads blooming like pollen in the air, and the sharp fragments of pain flowing through them.

‘Ah.’

It was Kishiar’s emotion.

The ache that gripped the heart like a merciless cord—full of aching affection, sorrow, and a new emotion Yuder had never sensed from him before.

That emotion... was cold as ice.

It was fear.

And also, a familiar, pitch-black guilt Yuder had come to recognize all too well.

But why was Kishiar feeling that? There hadn’t been any cause. Just as Yuder reeled in shock from those emotions, Kishiar closed his eyes. In a whisper, he spoke.

“...You’re right.”

“......”

“I thought through it all—but still, I asked. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. I cloaked it in rational concern over the situation, but in truth... I just couldn’t resist chasing some way to avoid this fear.”

The moment he admitted that he wanted to escape his fear, the emotions flowing into Yuder swelled stronger. Yuder clenched his teeth to endure them and finally spoke.

“What are you afraid of?”

Surely it wasn’t the rut itself. This was the man who had shown Yuder, with his own body, that there was nothing to fear. Then what exactly... connected to rut... could he be afraid of?

“Are you afraid something might happen while you're away? If that’s the case, I and the Cavalry—”

“No. It’s not that.”

Before Yuder even finished, Kishiar shook his head. He looked at Yuder’s fingers, holding his fist so tightly that there was no room to escape, and hesitated before answering.

“...What I’m afraid of—”

“......”

“—is a failure. Or maybe... more precisely, a memory of failure that rut might bring.”

“What do you—”

“......”

Kishiar didn’t reply. But in his silence, Yuder suddenly felt like he understood.

Rut. Failure. Memory.

There weren’t many things where those three words would overlap. Not between the two of them.

Only one possibility came to mind.

“...Does it have to do with the dream you had before?”

The memory of the day Yudrain Aile came to Peleta to kill Kishiar la Orr. Yuder still didn’t know how much of that memory, or how many conclusions drawn from it, remained with Kishiar. Kishiar had never told him.

Did he already know how Yuder came to kill him that day? How he had done it? Had the traces and information left behind by that moment haunted Kishiar so much that he now feared them?

Kishiar reached out to Yuder’s face—his other hand, the one Yuder wasn’t holding. With it, he pressed gently against Yuder’s bitten lower lip, now turning white from how hard he’d chewed it. Stroking it slowly, Kishiar let out a breath.

“It’s not your fault. It’s because I’m a coward. Because I’m weak.”

“You’re not weak.”

“I used to believe that, too... Until I realized I couldn’t even sense my own scent.”

“But that’s—”

Yuder started to argue, then stopped. Kishiar’s smile as their eyes met looked unbearably pained.

He knew. He already knew everything. That it’s not uncommon for Two-Star Manifested to fail to notice changes in themselves before a rut. That there were people—like Yuder and the Cavalry—capable enough to cover for him if he stepped away. That Yuder Aile, standing here now, would never leave him alone.

All of that—he knew.

And maybe that was why...

Sometimes, knowing everything only made it harder.

Even though their emotions were linked, Yuder couldn’t fully grasp what Kishiar was feeling. But he did understand what it meant when emotions refused to follow reason—when something inside surged uncontrollably.

“......”

Kishiar la Orr was a man born bright, strong, and kind. That kindness was a light to others, but to himself... it could also become a blade.

That blade didn’t appear all the time.

But just as Kishiar was for Yuder Aile, perhaps Yuder was the one person who could become his pain and his fear.

Which meant—right now, he was suffering. Because he loved Yuder. Because he worried for him.

To the point of believing it was better to erase his own rut, to shut himself in the tower alone.

Now that Yuder understood that—how stupidly simple and obvious it all was—he felt a piercing pain in his chest and tightened his grip on Kishiar’s hand.

He now knew the name of this pain that never seemed to get easier, no matter how many times he felt it.

It was love.

Yuder looked into Kishiar’s eyes and wondered what he should do. How could he reassure this man—who wanted Yuder to care for himself, but wouldn’t do the same for his own sake?

How could he convey the things that reason understood but the heart didn’t?

“...Yuder?”

Kishiar called his name, concerned, noticing something was wrong in the way Yuder sat silently with their hands still clasped tightly.

The moment he heard that voice, a thought flashed through Yuder’s mind.

Yes. Maybe...

“Erasing rut entirely is impossible.”

Yuder murmured, his voice low. Kishiar responded with a faint smile.

“I know. I told you—I never intended to force it. Fortunately, the prototype suppressants developed by the mages have arrived in good supply, so I’ll try taking those—”

“But if it’s something that will come anyway... maybe we can make it come sooner—and end it faster.”