Chapter 1047

The stove, having converted all the mana stored in the magic stone into flame, would take a few more hours to cool completely. Occasionally, it let out faint ticking sounds as tiny multicolored sparks jumped inside like grains of sand—but that was all. The stove was steadily cooling down, now emitting only a lukewarm heat from the dark cavity within.

Kishiar lay on his side on the bed, one arm propped beneath him, the other wrapped around Yuder, who was nestled against his chest. The bed was far too narrow to properly contain his body, and even curled up with knees bent, his ankles still stuck out over the edge. He didn’t mind. He looked like a beast crouched in a cramped den, guarding something precious.

Yuder’s head rested against his chest, breathing slow and even with closed eyes. His face looked as pale as ever, but Kishiar could read the lingering heat around his eyes.

Yuder had fallen asleep mid-conversation, shortly after they finished. He’d been embracing Kishiar and talking quietly before dozing off. That in itself was unusual—Yuder almost never fell asleep like this. It must have been an exceptionally exhausting day.

‘Can’t blame him.’

As soon as they returned from the South and finished unpacking, he had gone to meet the Emperor, followed by an unplanned meal. After that came dealing with the uninvited Kachian, assisting the pharmacist, and finally, sharing a bed with Kishiar. Both mind and body must’ve been thoroughly worn out. And tonight’s intimacy, though not drawn out in time, had been /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ more intense and demanding than usual. Yuder had restrained his voice the whole time, worried about soundproofing, draining his strength even further.

He didn’t have to go that far—but if Yuder felt it was necessary, he always endured without hesitation. He never even thought of it as difficult. He simply, instinctively, bore it. That was just how he was.

‘I strengthened the bathroom facilities and overhauled the defensive spell circles while I was at it. He didn’t need to be that careful.’

And Yuder knew that. Yet the fact that he still held back likely meant that his subconscious worry was deep-rooted. There had never been such hesitation in the command room before, so this lingering fear probably stemmed from past experiences in the previous life—the "game."

“......”

With his exceptional mind and instincts, Kishiar could deduce much from even the smallest changes. He gently patted Yuder’s back, wrapped in the sheet, and sank into thought.

After sex, when caught in that extreme languor and contentment, Yuder had a tendency to become unusually honest. Not that he wasn’t a sincere person normally—but this side of him was different.

At those times, the hollowness that usually lingered in his gaze when speaking of things related to the previous game was mostly gone. He also lacked the tension of double-checking every word, fearful of giving false information.

It was as if the act of stripping away everything, lying bare and warm with Kishiar, was the only time he could truly rest. He answered Kishiar’s questions in that hazy, relaxed state.

‘Was this the first time you learned your birthday?’

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t know at all. It’s just that... nothing like today ever happened.’

‘I see. It must’ve been surprising.’

‘May I ask you something in return?’

‘Of course. Anything.’

‘Then, after going to Peleta... on days like this... have you always spent them alone?’

In Yuder’s gaze—those black eyes still warm with uncooled emotion, those clear irises staring softly—Kishiar instinctively understood.

This question was related to the previous game.

He caressed Yuder’s warm cheek and answered honestly.

‘Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn’t.’

There was only one determining factor—whether or not he was under the influence of the cycle.

The cycle was the period when his broken vessel would spiral into instability, causing energy to accumulate chaotically to the point where it became unmanageable. No matter how much he tried to delay it, eventually, the pain would arrive.

His body would deteriorate to a degree that made it impossible to hide from those around him, leaving no room to celebrate something as trivial as a birthday. The best he could do was lock himself away, enduring the torment with medicine sent from the Imperial Mage Corps.

The cycle struck irregularly, but often overlapped with his birthday. That meant Kishiar himself could never be sure what state he’d be in around that time. If lucky, he might survive the cycle just in time to function again. If not, he’d be strung tight with nerves, sensing the next wave approaching.

Even after becoming an Awakener and repairing his vessel, the cycle didn’t disappear. He hadn’t understood why back then—but now, he had a hunch.

‘It’s because I didn’t fix the vessel from its foundation. I’m only holding it together with the power I gained, keeping it from breaking further.’

The timing and severity of the cycles likely correlated with the amount and type of energy stored inside him, and how well he could maintain balance. He could protect the vessel—but he couldn’t untangle the chaotic energy within. If he’d been born with a lesser power, like Emperor Keillusa, it might have been different. But Kishiar’s body held far too much.

Maybe that’s why. Even after his Awakening, he still experienced the cycle two more times. He hadn’t thought he would die, but the experience was far from pleasant.

If Yuder hadn’t appeared—someone who could see inside his body—he likely wouldn’t have escaped that pain or the emptiness it left behind.

Yuder had found the knots of energy inside him and worked to loosen them. Just his touch had been enough to relieve the pain that had almost arrived.

Since then, the signs of a coming cycle hadn’t returned.

‘But... unlike now, in the previous game, he wouldn’t have had that luck.’

After hearing Kishiar’s answer, Yuder had asked one more thing:

‘Then, last year... how did you spend the day?’

Last year, around this time, Kishiar had been under the influence of the cycle. It had hit during a period when he was preparing for the founding of the Cavalry, and he’d had to stop working. Since he was still newly Awakened, he judged it best to avoid others and observe his condition. Even Nathan hadn’t seen him. He had endured it alone.

Yuder didn’t speak for a long time. Kishiar changed the subject, trying to make him smile. Yuder, wearing a faint smile, had stroked his hair and face for a while longer before suddenly whispering:

‘I never saw what your 30th birthday was like. And your 31st... I’m not sure what to say. But I think I’d like to see your 31st, and your 32nd, and the ones after. It might be too much to hope for...’

‘Why would that be too much? I plan to be around even when you reach your hundredth birthday.’

‘That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?’

‘You should always dream big.’

Now, Kishiar gently stroked Yuder’s hair, the opposite of that night, and thought quietly.

Yuder had said he didn’t witness Kishiar la Orr’s 30th birthday in his previous life. It implied that, at that time, they hadn’t been close.

Maybe he had left the capital. Maybe, like at his 29th birthday, Kishiar had been confined under the cycle. Or maybe he had been enduring in a completely different physical state, struggling to treat himself.

But the 31st...

‘......’

Yuder had once said he killed the Duke of Peleta shortly after Kishiar became the Cavalry commander. The faces he remembered from that time hadn’t changed much since then.

No royal with a broken vessel had ever made it past their 30th birthday. Now, exceptions existed—Keillusa and himself. But what about back then? Did he even believe he would reach 31?

‘If I had lost everything, and only had limited time left to move the remaining pieces...’

Yuder was far too exceptional. His overwhelming strength and decisiveness drew too much attention. Even now, letters of desire or envy from nobles flooded the Cavalry headquarters.

At present, they could repel all of it. Yuder himself knew how to handle such schemes. The Emperor and Empress were healthy. And Kishiar—was fine. But if that changed—if everything crumbled?

Kishiar had a good idea of the decision he might have made. A memory from one of his dreams came to mind—of someone’s appointment ceremony.

A hollow hall of glory. The same spot where the Cavalry had stood today—occupied by a pale man with black hair, alone.

Behind him, smiling foolishly like a fool, stood the “Duke of Peleta.”

‘Crown Prince Kachian truly loathes me. And the best tactic for seducing someone who hates you...’

Was always to show them a vulnerability.

And a birthday would have made a perfect excuse. A rare opportunity to justify something without tedious explanation. With just a bit of fabricated intel and a little time, it would have made a very effective trap.

Kishiar felt like he now understood what he had been doing on his 30th birthday in the previous game.

He had been preparing for the 31st.

Waiting in silence—alone.

The stove had cooled completely. The air in the room was beginning to grow cold. Kishiar gazed toward the faint light seeping through the window and closed his eyes.

Departure time was approaching. He’d let himself rest, just a little.