Chapter 1044

Yuder exhaled softly and began to speak.

“As I mentioned earlier... my birthday has never been anything significant. I never really received any meaningful gifts. Even in the previous cycle, to be honest, I remember only thinking it was a hassle. I didn’t see the point in celebrating.”

He tried to recall the birthday presents he'd received in his past life. Most of them were uselessly flashy jewelry and clothes that were gaudy to the point of vulgarity, with little actual value. People assumed that because he was of common birth, he had no eye for quality—so they sent things that sparkled on the outside and little else.

Occasionally, there were those who laced their “gifts” with curses or poison, attempting assassination. But Yuder had caught all of them and made sure they paid dearly, so those attempts eventually stopped. Yet one thing never disappeared, no matter how ruthlessly he ignored or punished it.

That was the greed of people cloaked in the name of gifting.

“The most absurd ones were those who sent bribes disguised as gifts, then shamelessly requested favors in return. No matter how many I turned away or returned their offerings, they just kept coming.”

People who thought they could buy influence—no matter how harshly he rejected them, they always came back. More persistent than cockroaches. The man resting lightly on Yuder’s shoulder let out a dry, quiet laugh.

“Such people always exist... but that doesn’t mean you ever get used to them. It must’ve been exhausting.”

“Yes. At one point, I seriously considered publicly declaring that I would no longer accept any gifts. I never went through with it, though.”

“Why not?”

“There were objections. They said it could be interpreted as a refusal to accept even the Emperor’s gifts—which might be seen as harboring rebellious intentions.”

Even if it never reached that point, Yuder acting “too much like a commoner” would reflect poorly on the Cavalry’s dignity and image. He couldn’t let the reputation he’d built—carefully and painfully—collapse just because he was tired of the nonsense. He couldn’t afford to leave an opening for enemies to exploit.

“So... I just let it be.”

Someone in the position of Cavalry Commander couldn’t make even the smallest personal choices without them snowballing into organizational consequences. Not that he hadn’t occasionally pushed back and ignored protocol—but even thinking back, it was a burdensome role.

Kishiar, silent for a moment, gently ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) played with Yuder’s hand resting on his knee. After a pause, he asked in a low voice,

“Were there no memorable gifts from the Emperor, either?”

“......”

It was an obvious question to ask, from Kishiar’s perspective. But Yuder felt a complicated tangle inside.

Not because the gifts from Emperor Kachian were more extravagant than those from Emperor Keillusa.

It was just...

“...Every time I returned from a successful mission, I did receive things.”

And that, of course, included his first covert mission—assassinating the Duke of Peleta.

Yuder’s mind conjured up a clear image of the black thornwood staff set with a blood-red mana stone. It had been his first gift from Kachian—the item that came to symbolize the Cavalry Commander.

Proof that he had been a highly capable killer.

A ripple of discomfort spread through his chest. But Yuder knew well by now how to handle moments like this. He looked down at the hands resting on his knees and tightened his grip around Kishiar’s fingers interlaced with his own. The pressure grounded him, calmed him.

He could’ve left it at that, but Kishiar would surely understand the unspoken implications behind his words. And on a day meant for happiness, it was an unpleasant topic—but leaving it unsaid would only fester. Kishiar was the type who would prefer the truth.

Yuder took a deep breath and began again.

“...Do you remember, back in the West—when we tried to swap out the Kalanesa powder hidden in the secret warehouse? Inside that storage, I found a particular mana stone. Do you recall it?”

It seemed like an abrupt change of topic, but Kishiar didn’t flinch.

“You mean the large red mana stone? I remember. It held an enormous amount of internal power.”

As expected, he remembered. He had likely noted every nuance of Yuder’s reaction at the time, down to the last word. Yet, he hadn’t said anything—until now.

Yuder nodded slightly and continued.

“I’d seen it before. In the previous cycle. It was embedded in the staff I was granted... after I successfully completed my first assassination mission as Cavalry Commander.”

“......”

“It wasn’t useful to me in any practical way. But I carried it constantly. The Emperor even expected me to bring it whenever I visited the palace. That staff... in a sense, became a symbol of the Commander—of me.”

He hadn’t been a mage. The staff hadn’t even been refined for use. It had no practical application whatsoever. Yet Yuder had carried it to official functions and imperial audiences alike, never once letting it out of sight.

It had served no purpose—none at all. And yet, even when dying, he'd felt a brief moment of rage seeing it in someone else’s hand.

Why?

Because it was the clearest proof that the Cavalry—what he’d built with painstaking effort—had been stolen from him? Or because of simple possessiveness?

Probably both. But...

Looking back now, maybe he hadn’t been able to stand seeing someone else holding what was essentially proof of Kishiar la Orr’s murder.

He hadn’t realized it then. But now, it felt like a grotesquely twisted obsession.

“...I didn’t expect it to be there. I was surprised. To be honest, it’s probably the only gift from that Emperor that still lingers in my memory.”

Now, the fact that the stone had ended up there didn’t surprise him. It was likely that in the previous cycle, the same mana stone had been sitting in that warehouse all along. The difference was, this time Kishiar had found it and removed it. Last time, it must have passed into the hands of the Duke of Ta-in.

Now imprisoned, the Duke of Ta-in had been involved in illicit trade stretching across the West and South. And the key to running such a business was keeping all factions satisfied—through “gifts.” If one of those gifts had included the mana stone, and it had made its way to Kachian, it made sense that he would’ve handed it to Yuder.

An improperly acquired mana stone. One Kachian likely didn’t value, and wouldn’t have seen as significant—making it the perfect gift. A big, impractical stone set in rotting wood. The perfect symbol of the mockery that was the final descendant of the old royal family, the Duke of Peleta.

Yuder recalled how Kachian would always seem faintly displeased whenever Yuder showed up at the palace without that staff—even though he knew full well why Yuder hadn’t brought it.

That meant the image of Yuder carrying it must have held some meaning to him.

As those thoughts played through his mind, Kishiar—who had been silent for a long time—finally spoke.

“Back then. You said you never wanted to touch a red mana stone like that again.”

“......”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

It was such a perfectly Kishiar response that Yuder shook his head.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. Though... I still don’t want to ever touch that kind of mana stone again. Not that it matters. I’m sure you already got rid of everything that was in that storage.”

Kishiar smiled faintly.

“...Well, actually. Not quite.”

“...Excuse me?”

Yuder blinked, surprised. Kishiar looked up.

“Your reaction at the time bothered me. So I disposed of everything else... but I kept that mana stone. I even traced its origin. But there was nothing that stood out. No key differences from the other goods. Still... now I finally understand.”

Yuder hadn’t known. He blinked again, confused, and Kishiar gave a quiet sigh of a laugh.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it properly this time. You won’t see it again.”

“...All right.”

“Thank you for telling me. If you hadn’t, I might’ve held onto it longer.”

“No. If it had been me... I probably would’ve done the same.”

Yuder was surprised, yes, but he understood. Honestly, even if Kishiar had kept it longer, it wouldn’t have mattered—so long as it didn’t end up in his hands again. He said so and shook his head, and Kishiar smiled faintly.

After a pause, Kishiar asked a slightly different question.

“Come to think of it... your birthday. The enlistment records only list ‘late May.’ Did you leave the exact date off on purpose?”