“A bit more often than you do, Brother…”

Adonis mumbled, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Hyperion’s hand.

“Brother. Please. At least here, if you ever run into her again, don’t hurt her. Even if you have no choice on the battlefield… I just don’t want to see the two of you fighting—at least not here.”

Adonis was on the verge of tears as he pleaded, and Hyperion couldn’t bring himself to shake him off. After all, what right did he have to refuse him, having abandoned him alone in a place like this?

No… was that truly the only reason? Could he say with certainty that the reason his heart was pounding so violently wasn’t because of the unpleasant shock of encountering an enemy in an unexpected place?

Hyperion swallowed back a bitter, self-mocking question. It was the kind of question one should never seek an answer to. One that should not be explored. Instinctively blocking the thought, he buried the rising question deep within his darkness.

“Please, Brother.”

With Adonis earnestly begging him like that, Hyperion had no choice but to give a reluctant nod in the end.

Unaware of what lay beneath, Adonis let out a sigh of relief.

But whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, coincidences didn’t happen as often as one might think.

Hyperion had to visit Adonis more than a dozen times before he ran into Serpina again.

And of all places, this time it wasn’t even at Adonis’s dwelling—it was right on the path leading to it.

“……”

Hyperion, who saw her first, halted in place and held his breath. Judging by her expression, she had just come from seeing Adonis; a bitter smile lingered on her face—the kind people wore when feeling pity for someone’s situation.

And the moment she spotted Hyperion, that smile completely vanished.

He wordlessly watched her face as it instantly went blank.

A suffocating tension settled between them. There was no Adonis here—just the two of them. It wouldn’t have been strange at all if either had drawn their sword immediately.

“Unlucky day.”

But instead of reaching for her sword, Serpina muttered in a stiff voice. As if she were irritated at having to stand idly by even with him right in front of her.

Yet Hyperion, for his part, kept his eyes fixed on the creased line between her brows, lost in a memory of when that face had been more youthful. More precisely, he recalled the moment when that face, now twisted whenever she looked at him, had once blossomed into a beautiful smile.

‘I thought I’d forgotten it all.’

But now, he couldn’t believe he’d ever claimed to forget such a vivid smile. So clear was the memory that even the emotions he had felt seeing that smile came rushing back with undiminished intensity.

Trying to shake off the memory, Hyperion hurriedly opened his mouth.

“That’s what I should be saying.”

When he retorted, the crease between Serpina’s brows deepened further. Like a wolf guarding its territory, she glared at him warily and fiercely.

A natural reaction, surely. Then why did it leave him feeling so regretful?

“I won’t draw my sword for Adonis’s sake. But in the next battle, I will drive a blade into your neck. That way, we’ll never have to cross paths like this again.”

As if there were no need to curse him further, she brushed past with a gaze filled with unmistakable loathing.

At that moment, a faint floral scent wafted past Hyperion’s nose, carried by the small gust she stirred up. It was the same familiar fragrance that used to cling to her whenever he leaned teasingly against her small shoulders.

And with that, Hyperion finally realized the source of the regret he felt.

Because now, he would never see it again. That radiant smile on her face. She would never smile at him again.

Foolishly, a sense of loss washed over him. As if he had lost that smile. It was clearly a delusion. He never had that smile to begin with.

Even so, why did it feel like something had been hollowed out inside him? Why, even after all this time, did that distant past still freeze him in place as if it were everything to him?

“…You should’ve just changed completely.”

Alone in the space where all traces of her had vanished, Hyperion clenched his fist and muttered bitterly to himself.

If only there had been nothing left of that time—maybe things would’ve been different.

Her matured face. The expression of contempt that rose upon it. The cold gaze she threw at him. All of it had changed.

So why was it only her scent that remained the same?

The dissonance between what had changed and what hadn’t tangled messily within him, throwing his heart into disarray. As if shutting out the world, he closed his eyes tightly. The reckless thundering of his heart rang so loud in his ears it was deafening.

That day, Hyperion ended up turning back without seeing Adonis.

Ridiculously, he didn’t stop visiting him after that. In fact, he visited even more frequently.

As if he hadn’t grown a bit from those days when he used to run to the lakeside each night longing for a secret meeting with her.

Naturally, these chance encounters with her kept repeating. And whenever he saw Serpina’s face stiffen, his blood would boil with irritation as always. But deep down, he wasn’t unaware of the faint thrill lurking beneath it.

And he knew—that was what he needed to throw away. If necessary, even if it meant breaking his promise to Adonis. Hyperion knew he had to sever it before that feeling eventually dragged him down and pinned him to the ground.

But—

“Brother. You’ve been coming around a lot lately.”

“…Have I? I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Of course not. I’m glad I get to see you often. It’s just… you must be busy. If you keep being away, the tribe might…”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m fine.”

“Well, you are strong, Brother.”

He neither broke his promise to Adonis nor abandoned his feelings. Instead, he hovered around like a caring brother who simply looked after his brother. Even though that was far from the truth—how disgustingly deceptive of him.

Eventually, he even started wandering near without meeting Adonis at all. He feared that if he showed up too often, even Adonis would start finding him suspicious.

“What a touching bond between siblings. So devoted you couldn’t live without him—and yet you let him get exiled just fine.”

And even if all he received when finally running into her were biting jeers, even if every word stabbed into his heart like a thorn, he didn’t hesitate to be hurt by her.

If the only thing she could give him now was pain, then he was willing to accept that—his starved heart craving even that meager offering. Would she ever be able to imagine that?

“And you—knowing full well Adonis is of the Tribe of Light—just keep sneaking around here.”

“Hah. And you exiled him with your own hands and still call him one of the Tribe of Light?”

Serpina narrowed her eyes at him, glaring. And even that sharp look at the corners of her eyes… was just as it used to be, foolishly stirring a sense of familiarity and warmth within him.

In truth, she was no longer the girl he remembered from those days. Yet still, he would sometimes find traces of that girl in her, or overlap her with the child she once was.

Perhaps he was just searching for an excuse to continue feeling this way. Because her lips still curled in the same way, her brows twitched just like before, and her short scoffs hadn’t changed—it felt inevitable.

So, there was nothing he could do. At least not him.

“I’ll crush you without leaving a single bone today!”

“Just what I wanted!”

Even as he killed—again and again—those she tried to protect with her own hands. Even as his hands became drenched in the blood of those she once loved.

The blood that stuck so thickly to his heart reeked of rot. So, even if it would never be spoken of again, even in death, it remained.

“You’re doing very well, Hyperion. I knew my judgment wasn’t wrong.”

“Thank you, Lady Dione.”

“It won’t be long now. The day the Tribe of Darkness is wiped out… and the day we are united.”

Dione reached up and lightly patted the cheek of the man who was far larger than her. Hyperion silently endured her touch with a blank face.

Maybe, if he had been able to love Dione, this hellish heart of his might have found some peace. But Hyperion also knew that he never could.

Dione had unquestionably been their savior. When everyone else turned their backs on the brothers, she alone had reached out her hand. She had saved their lives and opened a world in which they could live.

But that didn’t mean he could love her. At least for Hyperion, those were completely different matters. No matter how grateful he was, gratitude didn’t lead to love. Between the two, there flowed a great river—too wide to cross.

“When Lady Dione reaches the top, may I believe there will also be a place for Adonis?”

“Of course. Just as I promised you.”

Dione replied easily, smiling down at him, her face pure and unsuspecting of betrayal. Looking at her, Hyperion swallowed the guilt that rose like bitter water in his throat.

Unlike the future Dione so dearly wished for, he had no intention of standing beside her. Even aside from whether he was worthy of such a position, the truth was—Hyperion had no desire at all for that future.

And that truth gnawed at him with guilt. What a thankless man he was. Perhaps those who had once warned Dione to cast him aside had been right after all.

But because betrayal was inevitable, he resolved that he would, at the very least, do whatever it took to grant her the world she longed for.

And he decided he would be satisfied knowing that Adonis would be safe in that future he wouldn’t live to see. That was the only wish ever permitted to him.

Burying an impossible desire within himself, he charged headlong toward the end like a stray dog searching for its own grave.

“By tomorrow, we’ll be able to sweep away the last of the Tribe of Darkness.”

And on the day when that long-awaited final moment was just around the corner—Hyperion left his tent alone and quietly wandered through the forest, where the darkness lay thick across the land. The darker it became, the calmer his heart grew, strangely enough.

‘Perhaps I was the one truly suited for the Tribe of Darkness,’ he thought.

It was a thought that didn’t matter anymore. After all, soon he would die by Serpina’s hand.

There had been no specific reason he’d decided that would be his end. It had simply come to him, like the natural course of things.

Just as he had once hoped when he first encountered her, he believed it was only right that she be the one to kill him.

Because there was no way he could ever kill her.

Only then, at last, would he be freed—From this cursed body, and from the feelings that had thrown his world into chaos.

Peace, the kind that only true rest could bring, would finally set him free.

And thinking that, there was nothing in this world he couldn’t welcome. It even felt like he could be bold—at last.

“…Serpina.”

So he summoned his courage and spoke aloud the name that had been close to forbidden. Just that much, and already his heart was pounding so hard it left him breathless.

If Serpina ever came to know his feelings—what kind of reaction would she have? He didn’t even need to imagine. The answer came quickly.

She would recoil in disgust at the foolishness of it. She might even drive a sword into his heart and laugh in satisfaction.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Even if it was as a lifeless corpse—if that would make her happy—

From the very beginning, the only way he could’ve made her happy was by dying.

“…I like you… I really do…”

His voice trembled at the end, spoken on impulse. Why did it feel so heavy, even knowing it would never reach her? The absurdity of it made him chuckle bitterly.

But this heaviness—that too was love. Though he had never once said it out loud, it had always been this way from the start. And it would remain so until the end.

Still, he didn’t think it was such a bad thing. If anything, the thought that he might give his life for the woman he loved—it felt like a romantic end more than he deserved.

So even if all that remained in this sinful life was this one feeling, there was no reason to grieve.

He closed his eyes gently, imagining the tomorrow when he would willingly receive her sword. And the darkness that rushed in to swallow him—it felt, somehow, kind.