Chapter 1128

In Yuder’s memories, Kishiar la Orr had been someone who never revealed his true thoughts, right up to the very end of his life.

It was hard to believe—that the secretive man he’d never been able to understand had actually seen light in Yuder.

That it wasn’t just about protecting the Cavalry or the retainers of Peleta, but something even beyond that...

It was absurd. The old Yuder Aile would have shouted those words.

But the Yuder Aile of now could not.

Because Kishiar would never lie.

If he felt that way, then that was the truth.

Even if Yudrain Aile, who had been there, hadn’t known—it didn’t feel strange now. After all, there were countless things he hadn’t known.

And yet, despite everything, it was still shocking. Still, it made his chest ache as though sliced by a blade.

“But...”

At the same time—

“...It might sound strange, but it makes me feel a bit... relieved.”

Kishiar had said it might have been better if Yuder had never known—but Yuder disagreed. Knowing now, even in this way, was a hundred, a thousand times better.

He looked toward the man who stared at him as if entranced.

“For a very long time, every time I thought of you, I felt an inexplicable anger and coldness. Back then, I thought that was normal. But now... I realize it came from unfulfilled expectations, and from feelings I couldn’t bring myself to kill.”

“......”

“I thought that no matter how much I wondered, all I’d have were [N O V E L I G H T] guesses. That I’d never truly know, because only you held the answer—and that I’d never be able to ask. But... I’ve learned it now, haven’t I?”

One can never know someone’s heart through speculation alone.

It’s hard enough to understand your own heart—so how could you possibly understand another’s? Especially someone who’s already gone.

“I still don’t know why I returned to this place... but just hearing that answer now, it feels like enough. I think I was very fortunate. So...”

Yuder closed his eyes. His closed eyelids burned.

“All I want... is for you not to suffer. That’s all.”

Yuder Aile was no longer living in the past—he was here, now.

He had changed many things. Learned joys and happiness he never knew before.

Kishiar had said that Yuder felt like a god who had granted him everything. But Yuder believed it was the other way around. He had only been able to become who he was because Kishiar had supported him.

And he hoped Kishiar wouldn’t forget that.

“...Really, that’s all?”

Yuder opened his eyes again. In Kishiar’s arms, held so tightly there was no space between them, he could feel the other’s pounding heartbeat as though it were his own. The expression on his face was unreadable—was he on the verge of tears, or simply flushed with heat?

Yuder raised his hand and gently caressed Kishiar’s cheek, then opened his lips.

“You probably already know this, but I’m neither a good person nor a particularly smart one.”

Before Kishiar could respond, Yuder pressed a finger to his lips and continued.

“The me from the last game didn’t know it then. But now, with more experience, I can guess just how dangerous a position I was in.”

Sure, he was strong. But he didn’t know that strength wasn’t everything. A young Awakener from the countryside—what easier prey could there be?

Back then, Yuder didn’t even have the standards to make his own decisions, let alone know how to protect himself. If he had truly resigned from the Cavalry and returned home after the incident in the West, wouldn’t he have been torn apart by those who feared or coveted his power?

Or perhaps, crushed by the world, he might have become someone like Naham.

He recalled a dream he once had—where he and Kishiar were playing a strategy game.

Wasn’t it about special pieces?

Before Yuder became Commander, Kishiar often used the “special piece” tactic in strategy games. While others hid those pieces at the back for protection and surprise, Kishiar did the opposite—he pushed them forward to draw attention, and by doing so, cleverly hid the true special piece among the ordinary ones.

It wasn’t a conventional strategy. If the opponent saw through it, it’d all be over. A risky and bold move.

But that was how Kishiar played. That was his style.

And Yuder had learned from that man.

All of Yuder Aile’s standards had been shaped by Kishiar la Orr. The one who had taught an empty canvas how to fight, what responsibility meant, how to protect himself—and how to live by confronting the world.

Kishiar had once described his strategy that day as a “Black Mire Formation.” But Yuder didn’t think that was all it was.

“That’s why I’ll say this clearly. If I had been the one in charge of protecting everyone, I would’ve made far worse choices. Honestly, if it had been a real strategy game, I would’ve admired your tactical decision-making. Even now, knowing how it ends, I still do.”

In his past life, Yuder had often thought there must’ve been others more qualified to lead the Cavalry. Even putting aside Kanna, who hadn’t existed in that life—people like Ever and Steber had more than enough strength to lead.

They were both respected by many members, and while not as strong as Yuder, they were clearly gifted.

They probably could have rebuilt the broken Cavalry faster, and gathered the scattered members with more warmth and unity. Even Yuder had thought so.

He used to wonder: did Kishiar not know that? Or did he know and simply not care?

But now—finally—Yuder understood why Kishiar had chosen him.

Now, through both heart and mind, he understood clearly.

“What I tried to protect... turned out to be the very thing that protected me. I see that now. And yes—it must have been the best choice. I understand now why you never said anything.”

“...Yuder.”

Kishiar whispered his name like a groan.

“Your choice was the best one. If that choice ended up becoming the Black Mire Formation, it wasn’t because of you. It was because of me.”

“Yuder, that’s—”

Yuder once again pressed a hand over his lips.

“I’m not saying this to blame the past. Please—just listen.”

Beneath his palm, he felt the heat of Kishiar’s breath.

“I think you chose me as both a substitute piece and a special piece. Those two can exist together on the same board.”

“......”

“Honestly... I can’t even imagine how much that meant.”

“......”

“But learning that now—I’m glad. I think I’m even... a little happy.”

Kishiar blinked blankly. The lips under Yuder’s palm moved faintly.

“...Happy?”

“Yes.”

Kishiar had risked everything and chosen Yuder as his special piece in his final game.

Realizing that now—it brought both sorrow and awe. Because he hadn’t picked Yuder carelessly, but with intent. With expectation.

A part of the heart of someone Yuder had always thought turned away from him had, in fact, always been his.

The confession that Kishiar had shared in his joy and pain—it made Yuder feel like screaming with grief... and yet, overwhelmingly happy at the same time.