Author's Preface
"And Viscount?" Flint asked.
Yuma's expression grew slightly colder.
"He turned his own child into a vessel."
Flint frowned. "A vessel... for what?"
"To cultivate contamination," Yuma replied calmly. "The child was confined. Beaten. Forced to swallow dark emotions."
Silence fell.
"If the contamination rises high enough... he will turn into a Shadow."
Flint gritted his teeth.
"And afterward," Yuma continued evenly, "the Viscount intends to consume that contamination himself. He fears aging. He fears death."
"Wasn't his child declared dead long ago?" Flint asked.
Yuma shook his head gently.
"His wife gave birth to twins. One was frail and rarely left his room. The other was healthy and presented in public."
He paused.
"The frail child was labeled the ill omen."
Flint went still.
"Because when he was born, his mother died from hemorrhaging."
Yuma lowered his gaze.
"And whenever someone happened to fall ill after meeting him... the blame was placed on him."
"That was... coincidence?" Flint's voice lowered.
"It was coincidence," Yuma said quietly. "The child who later died already had a medical history."
Flint said nothing.
"At the hunting festival," Yuma continued softly, "the healthy twin happened to be sick. So the frail one was sent in his place."
The room felt heavier.
"The one who died at the festival was the frail child."
Flint's hand tightened into a fist.
"And the Viscount reported only one child."
"Hm."
"The other," Yuma said evenly, "is still locked away. Beaten. Forced to bear emotions that were never his."
He lifted his gaze.
"If you intend to act, Uncle... address this first."
His tone remained gentle.
But firm.
"The contamination may not have crossed the threshold yet. Purification is still possible."
Flint rose almost without realizing it.
"I'll dispatch a team immediately."
Yuma gave a small nod.
He gathered the remaining documents and stood, moving toward the desk to review the papers that required immediate approval.
Several noble petitions. Regional requests.
Nothing urgent.
Even if there were, a Archuke could handle them.
And most importantly-
there were no major incidents he remembered connected to these documents.
Yuma fell silent.
An event as significant as the Viscount's case...
would normally surface years later.
Yet somehow, the memory of it lingered.
Truthfully, not every event appeared in every regression.
Most of his time had been confined to the palace.
Much of it spent exhausted-especially after consuming the contamination from his brother's body.
When he did leave, the clearest memories were always tied to Shadows, Death Gods, and hidden laboratories.
There had been one cycle that lasted ten years.
Only one.
The Viscount's case...
would be exposed two years from now.
In that cycle-
his brother had not lost his sanity.
The contamination stopped before reaching its worst point.
Yuma did not need to consume it.
And for the first time...
he was able to live a little longer.
But even ten years had not been enough to change the ending.
The other cycles were far shorter.
Sometimes only one day.
Sometimes three years.
Sometimes five.
There were times he ended everything himself.
Without realizing it, Yuma pressed a hand against his chest.
All those deaths.
All those repeating endings.
All those roads that always led to blood.
Whenever he remembered-
his chest felt tight.
...or perhaps it was only the memory of that feeling that hurt.
His hand stilled.
What did pain actually feel like?
He was not wounded.
He should not be.
The thought slowly dissolved, like mist carried away by wind.
Yuma straightened his back.
His expression returned to its usual calm.
He picked up the next letter.
Flint remained standing near the desk, letting out a long breath.
"It's people like the Viscount who cause Shadows and Death Gods to keep appearing," he muttered.
His hands clenched at his sides.
"Do they never think about how many lives their actions could destroy?"
"...Selfishness?" Yuma answered quietly.
His gaze darkened slightly.
"After all, he isn't the one being hurt."
Flint shook his head slowly.
"To consume power like that... Haaah."
He wiped his forehead, though the room had not been warm moments before.
"Even a small amount of contamination can make someone wish for death. How can he possibly believe he'll remain sane? That child is truly unfortunate to have a father like-"
The air trembled.
Crack -
A thin fracture spread across the window glass.
"Yuma!"
Yuma lifted his face.
The golden light in his eyes dimmed-
then his irises turned a deep crimson.
Empty.
Dark.
Like blood that reflected no light.
Flint moved toward him-
But Yuma blinked.
The gold returned.
The air stilled.
As if nothing had happened.
Except for the faint crack in the glass.
"Sorry, Uncle."
Yuma lowered his head.
"I was thinking about... my brother."
Flint went silent.
That name alone was enough to change the atmosphere.
The First Prince.
Everyone still remembered that day.
No warning. No signs.
In a single night, the contamination within his body surged violently.
Purifiers were summoned. One after another.
Yet each attempt to cleanse him only made it worse.
Screams echoed through the palace.
There were days he tried to attack anyone who approached.
There were nights he tried to harm himself-
afraid that one day his own hands would hurt Yuma.
Chaiden suspected something had been injected into him.
Not ordinary contamination.
But remnants of power from a high-ranking Death God.
And then-
as suddenly as everything had worsened,
the contamination vanished.
On that same day.
Yuma disappeared from supervision.
He was found amidst ruins.
The high-ranking Death God was dead.
Along with a laboratory-
where civilians had been turned into vessels for Shadows and Death Gods.
Flint still remembered Yuma's face that day.
Ten years old.
Small body.
Covered in blood.
His eyes were empty.
Not crying.
Not angry.
Empty.
Flint took a step closer.
That memory had never truly left him.
A ten-year-old child.
Standing among debris.
A headless corpse before him.
A ruined laboratory behind him.
And in his eyes-nothing.
No pride.
No fear.
No tears.
As though every emotion had been exhausted before the blood had.
Flint had often wondered-
How much must a child witness...
for his gaze to become like that?
And now-
another laboratory had been discovered.
They had agreed to keep it from Yuma.
The nobles.
The commanders.
All those who still remembered that empty expression.
Not because they doubted him.
But because they trusted him too much.
They knew exactly what he would do if he found out.
Yuma still stood there.
Head lowered.
Silent.
Calm as always.
But Flint knew-
when he said, "I was thinking about my brother."
it was not a passing thought.
It was a wound that had never truly healed.
Flint said nothing more.
He stepped forward. Slowly.
Then-without another word-he pulled Yuma into an embrace.
Yuma stiffened for a fraction of a second.
Not in rejection.
Simply unfamiliar.
His body was light.
Too light for a child his age.
Flint tightened his hold slightly.
As though if he let go... Yuma might disappear.
"Yuma," he murmured softly.
No reprimand.
No command.
No title.
Just his name.
Yuma looked to the side, expression unchanged.
He did not return the embrace.
But he did not pull away either.
"...Uncle?"
"Hm."
Flint smiled faintly.
"Rest today, will you?"
"I just woke up."
"Then," Flint's voice softened, "go outside. Get some fresh air. Two days."
"I need to inspect the troops."
"Yuma."
That tone made him pause.
"...Rest. Please."
A brief silence.
"...Alright."
A small smile appeared on Flint's face.
"Good."
He slowly released him, then brushed a hand through Yuma's hair the way he used to when he was younger.
The same gesture.
As if time had never truly passed.
Yuma stepped toward the door.
Flint continued waving until it closed completely.
Click.
Silence.
Flint remained standing there.
His hand still half-raised-
just as it had been moments ago.
Slowly... it fell.
He covered his face with both hands.
"Please... Yuma..."
His voice broke mid-word.
"Please..."
His shoulders trembled faintly.
"I don't want to lose anyone again."