Chapter 983

Without a hand touching it, a porcelain teapot floated gently in the air, letting off steam as it poured warm milk. Two cups, enveloped by invisible force, followed Kishiar’s gaze as they flew through the air and settled perfectly into the hands of the two men.

Yuder looked down at the white cup in his hand.

The first time he confessed about the "previous game," they had sat across from each other in the commander's office, playing a tactical game. Even when he spoke about the day he killed Kishiar, it had been a similarly face-to-face, formal setting.

But now, they sat shoulder to shoulder, draped only in light clothing, leaning back against the headboard of a bed. Through the parted bed curtains, the winter sky of the South could be seen far off through the window. Their bare feet, stretched out and touching, painted a scene that was far too peaceful—and just a bit indecent.

To tell a story so utterly different in mood within such a setting felt strange... but not unpleasant. The warmth from a sip of milk spread down his throat. As Yuder let out a quiet breath, Kishiar, who had been patiently waiting without pressing, playfully moved his foot to rub Yuder’s toes atop his own.

Yuder’s feet weren’t exactly small—but Kishiar’s were, naturally, larger. He couldn’t help but think, At least feet could’ve been normal, yet even his feet looked like something out of a painting, long and graceful. Yuder stared at those toes, which he’d never imagined he’d one day observe so leisurely, and remembered a moment from his previous life.

One day, when he’d truly been twenty, he had collapsed mid-report in the commander's office, overwhelmed by pain and burning heat. In that delirious, shifting vision, he’d briefly seen bare feet.

They looked much like the ones he saw now—but then, they’d been a mess, streaked and dried with blood, as if they’d stepped on shattered debris. Of course, Yuder’s own feet probably hadn’t been any better back then.

As he gazed at them now, overlaying those bloody feet with the peaceful ones before him, a golden thread quietly rose into view. When he turned to follow the thread winding around their feet, he saw Kishiar gently leaning his head onto Yuder’s shoulder. The weight wasn’t light—but somehow, that made it feel even more grounding.

Memories hold no weight. Only things that truly exist carry weight.

“...”

Meeting his eyes, Yuder gave a faint smile—and at last began to speak.

“I don’t remember the first connection very clearly either. It wasn’t... beautiful, like what we have now. Back then, I was a subordinate, and we were in the middle of a report in your office. Then, something unexpected happened.”

He took another small sip before continuing in a steady voice.

“I suddenly experienced a second-level Awakening. You saw what happened to me during the Harvest Festival at ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the Imperial Palace, so you can imagine what it was like.”

If, like Fruelle’s recent Awakening, the scent had been faint, or if there had only been other Omega Awakeners or unawakened second-level candidates around, there might not have been a problem. Even someone like Nathan Zuckerman—unawakened, a Swordmaster, immune to scent, but strong—might have been able to stop the incident early.

But Yuder’s Awakening had exploded with a thick scent—and worse, it had triggered heat at the same time. In the blink of an eye, a scorching fever had risen to his head, consuming everything. In the office, it was just him and Kishiar—already damaged as a vessel—and Yuder, unaware of what was happening. And then... it was over.

“You were swept up in it. It took about a week for the Awakening to finish and the heat to pass. And after that, I began to ‘feel the connection.’”

Yuder paused, searching for the right words to describe what he had felt back then.

“It wasn’t like this... this beautiful, gentle thread we’re seeing now.”

As he flicked his toes, the golden threads fluttered lightly as if they had shape.

“It was more like a sensation than a memory. After that day, feelings and senses that weren’t mine would come crashing in without any warning. It was like the pieces that had once made up ‘me’ were shattered and stitched together with foreign pieces—a patchwork. And needless to say... I didn’t like it.”

To say it felt unpleasant would be an understatement. It was like every shock and negative emotion possible had been mashed together and forced on him.

“So the emotions we’re exchanging now... were very different from then?”

Kishiar murmured quietly, his head still resting on Yuder’s shoulder.

“...Yes. Very much so.”

The pain Yuder experienced post-Awakening wasn’t just from the connection to Kishiar. Whether it was the aftermath of the Awakening itself, or the backlash from the connection, he didn’t know—but it felt like an invisible wound deep inside him was healing. That dull ache had lingered for quite some time.

Many Awakeners are shocked when they realize they’ve become something beyond a normal human. But when Yuder Aile first awakened, he hadn’t felt such shock.

Second-level Awakening, however, was different. When his second level awakened, the world he lived in changed far more drastically than when he had simply become an Awakener. Yuder often thought that the real “awakening shock” for him had come with that second level.

And yet, even beyond that invisible pain, the agony that came from being linked to Kishiar was... overwhelming.

Maybe it felt even worse because I’d never experienced pain like that before, he thought now.

Already caught in chaos and horror, the sensations that came from Kishiar were no less terrible—maybe even worse. Yuder, convinced it was his fault for awakening that way, clenched his teeth and swallowed every thought that threatened to rise during the unbearable torment.

What’s so horrible about being tied to a lowborn like me that he looks like he’s dying every time he sees me?

If it bothers him so much, why not just call it a mistake and forget it ever happened? Why keep acting like he’s haunted?

But of course, that was what Yuder thought only because he had known nothing about Kishiar back then. He didn’t know what kind of person he was, what his circumstances were—didn’t even know that he had already been dying under the weight of immense pain.

And honestly, even if he had known... he couldn’t say for sure if he would have felt any differently at the time.

Still, Yuder took all those thoughts, and spoke them now—slowly, but without glossing anything over.

“...I don’t know how, but I instinctively knew that those sensations weren’t mine. And that they came from you. That was the first time I recognized a ‘connection.’”

Yuder stopped there and looked Kishiar straight in the eye. That first connection no longer felt like a painful memory. What mattered now was what came next.

“Back then... you made me a promise. You said you would find out what that strange phenomenon was. But until I went to Peleta, it never seemed like you were doing anything about it.”

As he spoke, memories long buried began to rise to the surface.

Yes, back then...

Yuder had thought Kishiar had forgotten that promise. After all, after Kishiar resigned from the Cavalry and left for Peleta, the pain that came whenever they met had almost entirely disappeared. And after the day Yuder brought up the rumors of rebellion, Kishiar stopped visiting altogether, and the sense of connection faded until it was nearly gone.

And faded things are quickly erased from memory. Yuder, too, tried to forget those conversations and promises—tried to believe that something as absurd as a “connection” no one else could understand didn’t matter at all.

He’d tried very hard to believe that.

“...But, it seems I was wrong.”