But Cyrus, unsatisfied even with this speed, lashed the horse’s rear with a whip, pushing it even harder.

His mind kept filling with negative thoughts. Cecil was good with horses, so he might have already arrived at Alesia’s villa and moved elsewhere, or perhaps he hadn’t gone to her villa at all but somewhere else.

This made him anxious to the point his chest might burst, and cold sweat dampened the nape of his neck from unease. Cyrus spurred the horse on, begging anyone who would listen for Cecil to be there.

He rode the horse day and night for several days straight. He only allowed the exhausted horse to drink occasionally when it could no longer run, while he himself ate nothing.

As hybrids, they could go without food for days with no ill effects, but it wasn’t simply that—he didn’t feel hungry at all. His only thought was to head toward where Cecil was.

Even while riding, his mind was filled with questions about what ideal Cecil was seeking that made him leave. It was strange. For Cyrus, simply having Cecil by his side filled him with so much love, but Cecil was different.

He found it difficult to understand exactly what Cecil feared. Was it fear of being discovered by their family? Guilt about committing an act that wasn’t human?

But they weren’t merely humans. They existed on the boundary between human and beast, and it was their freedom to choose either side. Moreover, Cecil tended to view humanity as some kind of absolute good. But from Cyrus’s perspective, humans could become the most absolute evil, and the humanity Cecil pursued was among the futile kinds.

Being neither human nor person. Or being human yet beast. For beings like themselves, applying human standards seemed ridiculous. But Cecil wanted to live as a human, not a beast. Cyrus simply couldn’t understand the difference between that life and life as a beast.

To him, being human didn’t make one noble, nor being a beast make one base.

But it seemed different for Cecil. For him, who had been educated and raised as a human, a human-centered life was important, and at the very least, he shouldn’t commit acts that weren’t ‘human-like.’

He couldn’t blame Cecil for this. Since he too thought according to how he was educated, Cecil wouldn’t be much different.

But if there was one regret, it was why the love Cyrus believed in was so meager to Cecil. Why didn’t the love that Cyrus considered his entire life and destiny reach Cecil? Thinking about this always dampened Cyrus’s mood.

So even now, he actually lacked confidence. He didn’t know if Cecil, who had already left, would return to him just because he rushed after him like this. Nevertheless, he pursued him instinctively. It was natural since this was a love imprinted before birth.

It didn’t matter if he was abandoned again. He just needed to get Cecil back. Cyrus clenched his teeth, thinking this way.

His throat felt constricted and choked up, like a hot ball of fire lodged there. Despite not normally having such a hot body temperature, heat surged through him.

He spurred the horse again, increasing speed. The thought that Cecil might move elsewhere if he was even a little late made his heart race with anxiety. So he rode day and night, not even sparing time for a sip of water. Only the changing scenery, the dimming sun, and the rising moon allowed him to sense the passage of time.

After running for days without proper rest, he finally managed to reach the village where Alesia’s villa was located. Afterward, he tied the horse in a suitable place. He worried that Cecil might run away again if he heard the horse’s whinnying.

Cyrus let out a hollow laugh at his own behavior and walked forward with heavy steps. It was a dark early morning, and the mansion had all its lights off, making it impossible to confirm whether Cecil was inside or not. The location was distant and all windows were closed, so he couldn’t catch Cecil’s scent either.

Just when he was growing anxious, thinking Cecil might have already left, the door creaked open and a man appeared from the darkness.

The only one he loved in this world.

It was Cecil.

*

Alesia’s villa, received as a gift on her twelfth birthday, was desolate from long disuse and covered in dust everywhere. Though there was a caretaker, it was natural for dust to accumulate after just a few days without people.

When Cecil pulled back the curtains, moonlight spilled through the window like it was sliding down. He stared at that milky white moonlight for a while. Looking around the house, darkness had seeped into places the moonlight couldn’t reach. Cecil walked toward those dark spots.

He blew away the layers of dust accumulated on the dining table with a “whoof” and sat down. Though he had frantically ridden for days to arrive here, he felt neither thirst nor hunger. Only Alesia’s wounded gaze and the associated delusions floated in his mind.

Where did it all go wrong? Cecil pondered this question, staring blankly somewhere. Can love that everyone denies be called true love? He didn’t know the answer to such a complex question.

But Cyrus came to mind.

That boy poured his love exclusively toward Cecil, like someone who had never learned how to look elsewhere. Didn’t he say he had loved Cecil since before birth? Cecil also had faint memories of that time.

He had simply approached and spoken to a quiet presence that was always curled up. It was an action without any particular meaning. Even now, Cecil could do the same for anyone.

But with just that, Cyrus fell in love and devoted his entire life to Cecil. His attitude was straightforward, suggesting he didn’t care if he got hurt in the process.

Cecil always found Cyrus fascinating and thought that perhaps love suited Cyrus better than himself. Love couldn’t come as a gift to a coward like him.

Suddenly, he felt drained. He questioned what he had hoped for, why he had loved to this extent, and then fled—the root of it all.

Unexpectedly, memories of the three of them rolling around and playing together at this villa when they were young surfaced. It was autumn, and cosmos flowers bloomed throughout the mansion. Alesia was running around the garden trying to catch dragonflies, and Cyrus…

‘Brother, take this.’

He remembered the face smiling brightly while holding out a simple bouquet of cosmos. Those delicate fingers and long-curved eyelids. That appearance grew into firm fingers and unchanging long eyelids, and at some point, that body moved and bent only for Cecil.

‘Brother, I love you.’

The memories came one after another: confessing love in a deep, thickened voice while kissing his forehead; the habit of pushing Cecil to the inside path when they walked together; always taking care of Cecil’s meal first when they ate.

‘Brother, you’re not eating this. Give it to me.’

‘Brother, be careful in front of you.’

‘Brother, I like you.’

“Hah…”

Cecil let out a sigh-like groan. His memories went further back, unfolding scenes from when they were very, very young. When Cyrus and Alesia had very small and soft forms, the time they were in their father’s womb.

During that time, Cecil found it strange and fascinating that there was a being who rarely moved and stayed curled up. So he poked at it, laughed, and played pranks. Then the curled-up being would raise its head and look around. Sometimes it would join in the mischief, rubbing foreheads and bumping bodies.

Cecil liked that response, so he played more pranks and swam around. And when he broke his shell and was born, he was greatly disappointed by the absence of the being who had joined in his play. He couldn’t express exactly how, but he felt let down, sad, and upset.

So he went looking for him and found an egg, instinctively realizing it contained the being he was searching for. He wrapped around the egg and tried his best to wake him up by talking to him.

‘Wake up. Let’s play together. Let’s play together.’

Tap tap, when he hit the egg with his forehead, tap tap, he could hear the sound coming back from inside. And one day after speaking to it, that being broke the egg, was born, and received the name Cyrus.

Cyrus said he fell in love because of just this. Cecil found it strange. He thought it odd that Cyrus could fall in love over something so trivial.

He thought such actions were meaningless behaviors he could do with anyone else. Just a bit of kindness, a bit of mischief.

But tracing back the past, Cecil finally realized. He had never done for anyone else what he had done for Cyrus. He never approached others first, never laughed with them, never spoke to them, never expressed affection through familiar actions.

Everyone said Cecil was kind and gentle, but in truth, he had never treated anyone the way he treated Cyrus. He didn’t want to. No one was like Cyrus.

He realized this only now, in this dark place, after reaching the end-like past.

Cecil suddenly understood.

Perhaps Cecil himself, from the time in the womb, had also…

Cecil exhaled heavily and burst into tears. Everywhere, he heard Cyrus’s voice calling him. He realized it. Even if it was a forbidden love, it was fine. He wanted to meet Cyrus again. He needed to tell him that he wasn’t trying to abandon him.

After burying his face in his knees and heaving for a while, Cecil slowly straightened his back. His cheeks glistened with tears. Cecil wiped them away without hesitation. There was no more time to cry. He had to meet Cyrus.

Since he hadn’t brought any luggage, he left empty-handed. Cecil slowly walked out of the house. It was still dawn, before sunrise. He had to go back. He wanted to see Cyrus. So just as he came out of the villa and headed toward the stable, he caught a familiar scent. Surprised by that scent, he turned his head and saw a familiar figure.

“…Cyrus?”

His one and only younger brother was here. Surprised to see him where he shouldn’t be, Cecil stared silently as Cyrus strode toward him.

“Where are you going?”

“…”

“Running away again?”

Cyrus’s voice was agitated, his chest heaving with rough breaths. He seemed to have arrived here not long ago.

“How did you get here…”

“Does that matter? Then why are you here? Did you want to run away from me that badly? Where were you planning to go after running away this time?”

His voice was filled with moisture. Cyrus had already stepped forward and firmly grabbed one of Cecil’s wrists. The veins on the back of his hand stood out, and his skin had turned pale white. The man who had always looked so strong now appeared pale, waiting for Cecil’s lips to open, or perhaps to remain closed forever.

Seeing him like this, Cecil felt something surge within him.