Throughout the rut, Yuder had been holding on to a final thread of tension, suppressing the overwhelming urges. But the moment he heard those words, that last thread unraveled and melted away. In the quiet satisfaction of having safely protected Kishiar, Yuder rested his head peacefully against his chest.

He chose not to say things like I'm glad or Are you okay. Those words no longer seemed necessary for Kishiar. Instead, Yuder spoke the words he’d wanted to say all along.

“I felt the same. You were the one in rut, but taking care of you and staying by your side... I truly enjoyed every moment of it.”

It meant: So don’t even think about apologizing for making things difficult for me.

The man who understood the unspoken meaning let his brows relax into a smile.

“...I remember constantly feeling how much you adored me. Like I’d become a petal loved by the gods. It made me truly happy. Like I could do anything.”

Memories from the rut were a strange thing—they belonged to oneself but didn’t feel like one’s usual self. It didn’t seem much different for Kishiar.

“You’re not as small as a petal, but... it was the first time I realized you could be that cute.”

“Oh dear. I’ve always wanted to be someone cute in your eyes... Seems I’ll have to try harder.”

“There’s no need to try. After all, there’s only one person I’ll ever feel that way about.”

It wasn’t that a new side of Kishiar had appeared during the rut—it had always been there, quietly within him. Yuder thought that Kishiar was cute because it was him clinging to him like that. If someone else had acted the same way?

Absolutely not.

Just like during the silent days, whenever Yuder opened his arms to permit him, the man would stare at him like entranced—then slowly lower his gaze.

“Is that so... only one. I’m your only one.”

Instead of answering, Yuder gently stroked the man’s cheek, which seemed lighter somehow, and asked,

“How’s your physical condition? Do you feel your strength returning?”

“Compared to before the rut, I feel very calm and good. As for strength... I think I can use it, but I don’t think it would be easy.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m not sure yet. I could eat if told to, but...”

That meant he wasn’t entirely out of rut yet. The warmth of his cheek still felt slightly hotter than usual.

“I also took a little time after regaining my reason before I fully escaped the rut. It seems you’ll need more time before your strength returns, so it’s best not to push yourself until then.”

“Alright.”

Kishiar nodded without protest.

“But you should eat. You don’t need to stay here just because of me. If you’re hungry, go down and get something to eat. You haven’t had much during this whole time, have you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine for now. I ate most of what Sir Zuckerman brought me...”

That naturally led to a new topic—something Nathan Zuckerman had mentioned.

“Ah. That reminds me—Sir Zuckerman said His Majesty the Emperor has sent people to help out here at Peleta.”

“His Majesty sent people?”

“Yes. Even though we didn’t request help. I suspect he assessed the situation through his ability.”

Ever since issuing the command for no further contact, Kishiar hadn’t once used any item connected to the Emperor’s power. But knowing the relationship between the two, they likely had already set up a way to monitor Peleta’s situation just in case.

Given the major anomalies that occurred nationwide, it’s no surprise he checked in.

“They may have already arrived by now. And I also heard a rumor that Crown Prince Kachian might stand trial again... but that’s not urgent. We can confirm it when we return.”

“So many interesting things happened while I was here.”

Talk of the outside brightened Kishiar’s expression, still flushed with leftover heat. Yuder, for his sake, pulled forth all the stories he’d experienced or heard. How Sir Zuckerman had diligently prepared supplies in advance, and how the castle had been right before Kishiar entered rut. As Yuder calmly spoke, Kishiar didn’t take his eyes off him for a single moment.

“I didn’t know Steward Enk had that kind of personality. Talking with her made me return a bit later than expected... I think I gave her a bit of a shock in the end.”

“Ah. That was when I ‘started,’ wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Now might be a good time to ask about the cryptic things Kishiar had said just before the rut truly began. After a brief hesitation, Yuder spoke.

“...Do you remember what happened just before the rut began in earnest?”

“Well... I was as ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) far from myself as the day I Awakened. That’s for sure.”

Kishiar gave a wry smile.

“I thought I was fine, but I was actually quite anxious. I sat down to rest my eyes for a bit, hoping to calm myself... and I had a terrible nightmare.”

“......”

“When I woke up, I couldn’t grasp reality right away. I was so shaken by the fact that you weren’t there.”

Yuder recalled the day Kishiar had locked the door and rejected him. Looking back now, the overwhelming scent he’d released that day had clearly been calling for Yuder.

“But I thought being near you in that state would be dangerous for you... so I decided I had to be alone. I tried to hold on to my reason, but maybe that made things worse. I couldn’t think properly. In hindsight, I acted like a fool.”

Now he understood why Kishiar had compared it to the day he Awakened. Back then, he’d stayed behind in the castle alone, determined to die, just to protect his retainers.

He’d deemed himself unstable and locked the door to keep others away—but at the same time, the scent that had blanketed the entire castle had desperately called for Yuder. His words now pierced like a dagger, and Yuder pressed his head closer.

“Why do you keep calling yourself a fool? I’m pretty sure I told you not to do that.”

“Because I really was.”

Kishiar pulled Yuder in and rested his forehead against his.

“Even knowing how strong you are, I couldn’t trust myself and tried to run. But there was no need.”

“That part, I agree with.”

A smile curved Kishiar’s lips. It was both bitter and sweet. He inhaled deeply, taking in Yuder’s lingering scent in the air. His fingers curled softly around Yuder’s back.

And suddenly, Yuder instinctively realized—Kishiar was about to say something important.

“There’s something I haven’t been able to tell you. I want to say it now.”

“......”

“The day we fell asleep together in the office. That memory... of something I didn’t experience, yet I did. Something that didn’t happen to me, but did happen to me.”

Kishiar’s voice stretched slow and quiet.

“Watching from afar and actually being there... it’s entirely different. It lasted just a moment, but I could feel and understand every single thought, emotion, judgment, and sensation from that time. No—understand isn’t even enough. It was more than that.”

“......”

“And considering all of that, there’s one thing I know for certain.”

His red eyes darkened, so deeply they seemed nearly black.

“Kishiar la Orr... no matter what happened that day, would have lost to Yuder Aile.”

Because that moment had been meticulously arranged to make that happen.

Yuder’s breath halted.

“That day was the setup of the Black Mire formation. A perfect and clean end—one meant to cut away only the king’s piece and bring it all to a close.”

Black Mire formation. A tactic used in strategic games—what they call a “suicide gambit.” It means sacrificing your own pieces to the opponent to gain advantage and ultimately win. Among such gambits, the Black Mire was almost never used.

Why? Because the piece to be sacrificed was none other than the king.

One might assume the game ends when the king’s piece is taken. But rarely, in very specific conditions, the player could craft a substitute king during the game without the opponent noticing. If successful, that stand-in could temporarily function as the king, letting the game continue even after the true king’s fall.

Of course, a substitute king had severely limited movement and ability compared to the original. Most of the time, even if successful, it ended worse than losing outright. Which is why most people preferred a clean, fast defeat.

It was a filthy, miserable tactic. One people said it was better to lose than to use.

Difficult to execute, with little to gain. A foolish, disgraceful strategy.

Its name—Black Mire—came from the image of sinking into a swamp of greed, after sacrificing the real king only to still lose in the end.

But Kishiar had just called the day he died in his previous life a Black Mire formation.

Which meant...

The king’s piece that had to die was Kishiar. And the substitute was—... 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

As if confirming Yuder’s thoughts, Kishiar spoke.

“He—no, I—was satisfied at the time. I thought I had finally arranged the best outcome.”

A clean death for himself.

Safety for all those who had trusted and followed Pelleta and Kishiar la Orr.

The survival of the Cavalry.

The fulfillment of a promise to a brilliant, unfortunate soul who had become tied to him through a tragic accident.

And the chance for that person to continue a life full of possibilities...

He believed he could have all of that. And in that belief, he’d felt relieved and happy.