Whose idea is this?!

Sikar Blake, smirking slightly at one corner of his mouth, spoke as if amused by something—or perhaps simply enjoying teasing me.

“Vika Lamberst is away on business, so I can’t leave your side tonight. Like it or not, you’ll have to sleep with me.”

“Where did Master Vika go?”

“To look for people from your hometown.”

Given Vika’s exceptional ability to recognize people even from afar, it made sense they’d send him. But why, of all days, did it have to be today?

“I can sleep alone. Even if I have nightmares, it’s fine—just go to your own room.”

“Putting aside whether I can let you suffer nightmares, I must stay by your side because I need to find the cause of your nightmares. Who knows? Finding the source of your nightmares might also reveal the root of your agoraphobia.”

I had no room to argue. And staring any longer into Sikar’s eyes as he looked down at me felt unbearably awkward, so I covered my face with my hands and said,

“Fine, I get it—move over.”

Sikar shifted aside, immediately lying down beside me and taking my hand.

“Feels comfortable—first time lying together like this on one bed.”

He propped his head up with one hand, seemingly at ease, and closed his eyes. But I felt anything but comfortable.

“Go sleep on the floor.”

“In the main temple, the bed was small, so I had no choice but to sleep below. Here, the bed is wide—why force it?”

“Ugh. I’m uncomfortable.”

“You have no sense of compassion.”

“What?”

For a moment, I doubted my ears. I never imagined the day would come when Sikar would say something like “compassion.”

So I asked again,

“Compassion? Did you just say ‘compassion’?”

Sikar glanced sideways at me and said,

“The floor is cold. You slept on that cold floor back then too. And I’d like you to be just a little kinder to me, the way you are to others.”

Though he wore a haughty expression for someone asking for kindness, I supposed I didn’t need to be utterly heartless toward someone holding my hand tight, promising to watch over my nightmares.

“Fine. I get it. But just hold my hand quietly and sleep.”

“Is that you being kind to me?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you to speak kindly, so I’m wondering—is this your way of being kind?”

I had just given an order, but Sikar apparently took it as kindness. Well then, let’s call it a “kind command,” I guess.

But why suddenly ask me to be kind? Or—more importantly—does he even understand what “kindness” means?

When I rustled slightly, Sikar suddenly turned his body toward me.

“You startled me.”

“Why? Why’d you do that?”

“Not sleepy?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then what?”

I hesitated briefly before speaking.

“I’m just curious—why suddenly ask me to be kind to you?”

Sikar stared at me silently for a moment, then squeezed my hand tighter as he spoke.

“You always smile and act kindly toward others, but you rarely smile or show kindness to me—that’s why I said it.”

Even as he spoke, Sikar’s face remained expressionless, as if discussing something entirely unrelated to himself.

“You like deals, don’t you?”

“I don’t particularly like them. I only make deals when necessary.”

“But deals are how you get what you want, right?”

“That’s true.”

“Good. Then let’s make a deal.”

“If you want.”

“I’ll be kind to you, so in return, be kind and gentle not just to me—but to others too.”

Sikar, who had been listening intently, frowned slightly.

“Isn’t that unfair? I only ask kindness from you, yet you demand I be kind to so many people? Deals must be fair—you pick just one person.”

Unnecessarily meticulous guy.

He wanted me to choose someone to be kind to? While we’re lying face to face, holding hands, having this conversation? The situation struck me as absurdly funny—but I still had to pick someone.

After a brief moment of thought, I quickly recalled a candidate.

“Then… let’s make it two people.”

“Two people…?”

“They’re not adults yet—count them as one person’s worth.”

Sikar snorted, clearly knowing who I meant.

“You mean those twins.”

“Yes. I’d like you to treat the twins kindly, just like you’ve been treating Kian Blake lately.”

“I’ll treat them very kindly. But if you don’t want to see me make the twins cry, you’d better be quite kind to me too.”

I turned my head away primly and said,

“Fine.”

“Then… shall we sleep cuddled up kindly?”

I nearly gasped in shock as I turned my head to close my eyes and sleep.

“What are you saying?! That’s a different matter entirely from kindness!”

“Then what kindness are you showing me?”

“That I’m letting you sleep in my bed—that’s kindness enough.”

I turned my body away, signaling I didn’t want further conversation. Behind me, Sikar’s sulky voice drifted over.

“Then I’ll let you use my arm as a pillow.”

“That’s unrelated to kindness too.”

This time, Sikar’s flat voice came from behind.

“Then say ‘Good night’ to me.”

For a moment, his cute tone nearly made me laugh—I bit my teeth hard and said,

“Good night.”

Immediately, a soft chuckle followed, then Sikar’s relatively cheerful voice replied,

“Sleep well too.”

Late at night, cart-pullers collecting corpses from the underground prison moved busily.

Inside the carts lay those who had died under torture.

The cart-pullers led carts out from the capital’s underground prison and loaded the bodies onto wagons.

The wagon carrying corpses arrived at a hillside slightly distant from the capital.

The cart-pullers dismounted, dumped the bodies carelessly along the mountainside, and hurried downhill before beasts could appear.

Bathed dimly in low-hanging mist and moonlight, the abandoned corpses on the eerie hillside looked pitiful and gruesome.

The unjust wails of tortured souls—bodies broken beyond endurance, lives cruelly severed—echoed through the mountains like a lament.

Once the moon sank further, the corpses would all become food for wolves or hyenas.

Vika Lamberst, who had secretly ridden atop the wagon’s roof, began inspecting the bodies on the ground once the cart-pullers had all left.

He was searching for anyone among them who might still have a faint breath left.

As Vika held his hand near each person’s nose, he soon discovered a man still breathing.

Vika took a healing potion from his pocket, poured a little into the man’s mouth, and observed his condition.

Soon, the man exhaled deeply and took a large breath.

“Are you awake?”

The man, whose breath had returned, slowly parted his parched lips and whispered,

“Sa… save me. Sa… save me…”

“What did they ask you?”

“A… a human woman with black eyes…”

“And what did you tell them?”

“I… I don’t know. Truly… I… I saw her, but… I really… don’t know where she went… Sa… save me…”

“Where did you see her?”

The man tried to move his lips again, but his head drooped as if consciousness had fled. He hadn’t stopped breathing—he’d merely fainted from utter exhaustion and excruciating pain.

Since he already knew the king was searching for an Easterner, this information was sufficient.

Left as he was, the man would soon die from hypothermia—even if wolves didn’t get to him first. Vika almost stood to leave, but then recalled the Duke’s words:

‘My wife dislikes killing. She also hates ignoring those on the brink of death. If you ever encounter someone dying, save them.’

Vika, who had begun to rise, sank back down with a weary expression.

Since the man would watch his words to survive anyway, keeping him alive wouldn’t hurt.

“Annoying.”

Vika took out more healing potion, poured it into the man’s mouth, then dragged the sack the man lay on.

“Seriously, so annoying.”

At the sound of Vika’s return, Sikar Blake, who had been trying to sleep beside Yura Blake, suddenly opened his eyes.

At the same moment.

Vika, returning to the Duke’s manor, realized the Duke had already noticed his arrival, so before heading to his study, he first dispelled the bothersome nightmare spirits.

“Truly annoying. This cursed oath.”

After Vika eradicated every last speck of nightmare spirits hovering near the manor, he entered the study—only to find Sikar already seated.

“Did you confirm it?”

Vika leaned back wearily on the sofa, tilting his head back as he spoke.

“Gillian is searching for someone with black eyes. Seems someone spotted an Easterner.”

“Did you find out who?”

“Can’t tell if it’s the Lady or that woman at Reidox’s house. Could be someone else entirely. Nothing’s certain—except that it’s a woman.”

Sikar sighed impatiently.

“As expected. We must find them first. Find them and silence them.”

“What happens if those ‘Easterners’ inform the king of the young master’s true identity?”

Sikar scoffed, as if the question were obvious.

“If anything happens to Kian, my curse cannot be broken—and then our oath will persist forever.”

An eternal oath? That was troubling.

Vika frowned wearily and said,

“It seems we’ll have to go to war with the king. Why not just strike the king now? It’s not a completely hopeless fight.”

“Not possible because of Veronia.”

Vika tilted his head, surprised.

“Veronia? You mean the princess you told Durion to find?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, right—the young master is a royal descendant. Veronia’s son!”

“Correct. Until we find the princess, we must never oppose the king.”

Vika’s energy drained away. He couldn’t fathom what that insignificant princess had to do with them. He sighed deeply and said,

“We can’t possibly die just to find some random princess.”

“Because Yura absolutely wants to find Kian’s mother for him.”

Vika slumped his shoulders as if utterly deflated.

“Again with the Lady. Lately, you talk of nothing but her. Do you realize you’ve become like her marionette, doing only what she tells you to?”

Sikar nodded, as if acknowledging the truth himself.

“Isn’t that natural?”

“Natural? You think being her puppet is natural? Now? Just who is this Lady, and why on earth are you so utterly bound to her?!”

Sikar’s face, which had silently listened to Vika’s rant, darkened heavily.

“Watch your words, Vika.”