Chapter 40

“The witch you seek…” Isaac started, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stifle them. “Does it possess any direct relation to your search for Roverni’s witch?”

He had no genuine interest in the response, acutely aware that the two matters were entirely disconnected. The moment the question escaped, he cursed his own monumental stupidity. This was precisely the treacherous territory he had sworn to avoid.

Kaiyan offered no immediate response. He continued gazing out the window at the departing magicians, so deeply submerged in his own reflections that he seemed to have dismissed Isaac entirely. Only when the silence had stretched to the point of absurdity did the prince finally stir.

“It is a separate matter.”

“I understand.” Isaac swallowed, his throat dry. “I hope you are successful in your pursuit.”

The fabrication lacked even a shred of sincerity, weighing in his mouth like gravel. Still, the matter was settled; he would never allow the word witch to cross his lips in this chamber again.

“They will not find it,” Kaiyan declared, turning away from the window. “But they will remain occupied for a time.”

Isaac watched in frozen silence as the prince lifted his teacup, taking a composed sip. Ah. Of course. Until they fulfilled their side of the bargain, they would be barred from interfering elsewhere. But what if they actually track me down? No. They could not. They absolutely must not.

“But if they cannot locate this witch, how do you intend to proceed?”

Only as the inquiry hung in the air did Isaac register his violation of his own vow. Regrettably, his survival was at stake, and he found it impossible to purge the subject from his terrified mind. If he could ascertain Kaiyan’s next move, he might finally formulate a viable defense. Kaiyan cast a sharp, sidelong glance in his direction. In return, Isaac felt his heart jolt against his ribs.

“You are remarkably interested in this, aren’t you?”

“I simply wish to distinguish myself.”

Isaac muttered the excuse, his reluctance plain for any keen observer to see. A flicker of recognition crossed Kaiyan’s features, as if he were dredging up a previous conversation from his memory.

“Ah. The reward,” the prince’s eyes narrowed, pinning Isaac with a gaze that felt uncomfortably diagnostic. “You seem significantly greedier than I had originally anticipated.”

“I suppose I am just as greedy as the next man, Your Highness.”

“If you bring me that witch, I shall acknowledge it as a triumph of the highest order and grant whatever reward your heart desires.”

“…”

Isaac’s internal state twisted into a tangled, suffocating knot. Bringing the witch before Kaiyan would be as effortless as swallowing a mouthful of cold porridge, mostly because the witch was currently occupying the space right in front of him. Kaiyan was dangling the very prize Isaac had endured such torment to secure. Unfortunately, if he dared to claim it now, the remainder of his life would likely be spent rotting in an underground dungeon.

Kaiyan, seemingly misinterpreting Isaac’s complex, morose expression as the weight of an impossible assignment, lost interest and turned his gaze away.

Isaac stood in the shadow behind him, shoulders slumping miserably while the prince sipped his tea.

The silence grew heavy and prolonged.

“Every last witch must disappear from this land.”

The words were delivered with such terrifying softness that Isaac wondered for a heartbeat if he had hallucinated the entire declaration. His head snapped up, startled. Kaiyan continued to drink, his expression entirely devoid of emotion. It had been an idle murmur, spoken with a careless lack of focus, yet it was clearly the raw, ugly truth that had slipped out when his guard was finally down.

—Every last witch must disappear from this land.

Isaac suddenly understood. That was the prince’s ultimate, singular obsession. And Kaiyan was a man possessed of the lethal resolve to force his desires into harsh reality.

“…”

It felt as though Isaac’s heart had been plunged into a vat of freezing water, the numbing cold radiating from his core to his extremities. His fingers curled involuntarily, his blood seeming to retreat from his skin until his fingertips turned bone-white. Kaiyan pivoted suddenly, catching the motion. Isaac flinched, clenched his hand into a tight fist, and forced his posture to straighten immediately.

“Come to think of it, I received this dossier only yesterday.”

Kaiyan pulled open a desk drawer and withdrew a thick bundle of papers. As Isaac watched, stunned and confused, the prince unfolded the sheets, scanned the introductory lines, and began to read aloud with detached precision.

“Isaac Raphaud. Born June, Year 280 of the Ritsen calendar. Father: Gaia Raphaud, born March, Year 248, deceased November, Year 282. Mother: Kalina Raphaud. Birth records incomplete due to orphan status; deceased December, Year 290. Isaac Raphaud subsequently supported himself.”

Isaac’s face went hollow, his expression blanking out entirely.

“Enrolled at Highharden Common School. No record of graduation. Worked as a contract operative under the broker Sana Grakium until Year 299.”

Kaiyan paused, his thumb brushing the paper. “Hm. A fairly useful employment history. I see.”

Isaac stared at the prince, who parsed the report as if he were reciting a particularly tedious ledger.

A moment later, Kaiyan sighed, his own posture relaxing into a slump. He had moved on to the logs of Isaac’s years as a mercenary. Judging by the lethal accuracy of everything read thus far, these records were terrifyingly precise.

Isaac would have preferred this part of his life remain hidden, though it was not exactly a state secret. Still, the thoroughness was nauseatingly impressive. Isaac had left almost no trail while scratching out a living as a gutter-born orphan.

Therefore, excavating this much detail could not have been a simple task. Kaiyan must have employed an information broker of exceptional, perhaps even frightening, talent. That realization served to explain precisely how he had managed to track the movements of the Roverni faction with such surgical accuracy.

Isaac scratched his head in mounting displeasure.

“Later completed an apprenticeship and was selected for the royal palace guard, where he served as a royal guard…” Kaiyan finally lifted his gaze from the page. “For an operative with a record like yours, the pay and status must have been far superior to the pittance an ordinary guard receives. Why did you choose to join the royal guard?”

“I wanted a safe, comfortable life, even if it meant earning less in the long run.”

“And why have you suddenly decided to risk your neck and distinguish yourself now?”

Isaac hesitated, his jaw tight.

“Because even when I try to live a quiet life, my circumstances refuse to cooperate.”

The answer emerged with more vitriol than he had intended. Reflecting on the sheer absurdity of his plight depressed him, and an involuntary sigh escaped his lips. Who could have imagined, back at the start of the year, that his life would become this treacherous?

Kaiyan watched Isaac lower his head, but he did not press for more. Instead, he returned his attention to the report.

What else could possibly be written in something so invasive? Isaac glared at the paper, though the contents remained obscured. Surely it did not mention his mother’s true nature. Even so, he could not help but wonder exactly how thoroughly his private life had been flayed open.

“Noteworthy details,” Kaiyan read aloud. “No record of romantic involvement with either women or men. No unusual sexual proclivities confirmed…”

“…”

Isaac desperately wanted an introduction to that information broker. The man was a monster of efficiency. How had this man uncovered something that private?

Isaac’s mouth hung agape for a heartbeat before he snapped it shut with a bitter, frustrated smack of his lips. Kaiyan glanced up from the report. It was an intensely personal matter, entirely beyond the scope of the prince’s concern, yet Isaac felt himself shrinking under that flat, unreadable stare.

“It isn’t that I have never attempted to date,” he stammered, feeling the heat creep up his neck. “There were several occasions when I saw someone for a short while, but things simply failed to align. I was too occupied with staying alive, and women deserve a certain grace, and…”

I do not even know what I am saying.

Isaac’s babbling withered beneath Kaiyan’s unwavering, clinical gaze. A thick, suffocating silence descended between them.

“Are you a virgin?”

“No, I am—”

The lie, built from the crumbling ruins of his wounded pride, nearly leaped from his throat. Yet, those piercing blue eyes seemed capable of stripping away any facade. Isaac faltered, his courage failing, and he surrendered to the crushing truth.

“I mean… yes. For now.”

“Is there something physically wrong with you?”

“There is not!”

That admission brought a measure of relief. Only after shouting the defensive response did Isaac belatedly consider that claiming some infirmity might have been the safer route. Isaac was not particularly unpopular, and he had encountered more than a few opportunities to court women. He had even dated a few with genuine interest.

Yet, whenever a relationship gravitated toward deeper intimacy, Isaac slammed on the brakes. The reason was the witch’s blood surging through his veins. He could hardly reveal that curse to another soul. More importantly, the nature of his existence rendered him unwilling to join his body with anyone, as witches effectively drained the vital essence of their human partners.

To couple physically was to exchange life force, whether the participants realized it or not.

A witch’s nature was vastly more dominant than a human’s; whenever a witch joined with a human, the witch inevitably absorbed their vital essence, even if that was never the intent. The greater the disparity in raw strength, the more catastrophic the toll became. With repeated intimacy, the human partner would gradually wither away, weakening until, in the worst-case scenario, they simply died.

A casual night might result in nothing more than a lingering, heavy exhaustion. A serious, long-term relationship was an impossibility for Isaac for precisely that reason. Still, perhaps a miracle would manifest one day. Perhaps he would encounter a woman with a constitution so extraordinarily robust that it could withstand his curse. Perhaps the witch’s blood inside him would thin with the passing years. Perhaps he would find someone content to live in quiet, non-physical companionship.

Then, someday, he might actually live in a modest house with a wife and raise a flock of chickens. Isaac continued to work with relentless diligence, clinging to that distant, fragile dream.

Kaiyan knew nothing of those internal landscapes. He merely stared at Isaac with that same strange, unreadable expression he had worn for the better part of the day. It might have been surprise. It might have been profound disbelief, pity, or perhaps a simple, detached curiosity.

“What does it feel like to live entirely without sex?” he asked at last, his tone implying he truly could not fathom such a concept.

The question soured Isaac’s mood instantly. He felt a sharp prick of offense, layered with a heavy, humiliating depression. Whatever the precise name of the emotion, it was undeniably foul.

“Once you are accustomed to it, it does not feel like anything at all. Tell me, is it always such a new and enjoyable experience for you, Lord Kaiyan?”

“Not particularly. It is much the same regardless of the person,” Kaiyan replied, his expression remaining a flat, unwavering mask. “The only difference is whether the act of emptying myself feels more thorough or not.”

“…”

There’s something fundamentally broken about this man.

It was profound, chilling, and absolute.

He spoke of sex as a mere, mechanical evacuation without a single flicker of hesitation. Judging by the deadness in his eyes, he genuinely viewed it as nothing more than a biological requirement. There was no exchange of affection, no comfort found in the friction of skin or the shared warmth of two bodies. It was merely the discharge of base, animal instinct.

“Then I suppose I can live without sex if it was like that.”