Chapter 64

Isaac had assumed the request to be self-evident, yet the prince’s flat, effortless inquiry left him utterly without words.

Why? Because it makes me feel strange. Because your gaze invades my dreams every night. Because it feels like a threat.

None of these truths could be spoken. After a tense silence, Isaac, lacking confidence, muttered, “My face would only ruin your enjoyment.” He realized his self-deprecation had cut deeper than he had intended.

Kaiyan nodded slowly, as if the logic were perfectly sound. “Your face certainly does not align with my aesthetic preferences.”

The prince’s swift, clinical agreement left Isaac caught between gratitude and a stinging, quiet offense. Unable to process the remark, he could only blink, rendered speechless once more.

Kaiyan narrowed his eyes, his gaze heavy with an enigmatic weight. His voice emerged as a low, deeply intrigued murmur.

“Your reactions are certainly interesting, nonetheless.”

He brushed the remaining traces of cat food from his hand, turned his back on the room, and settled into the plush depths of the sofa. Isaac found himself briefly off-balance, scrambling internally for an appropriate response, yet Kaiyan seemed to require nothing of the sort. Instead, the prince simply reached for a book.

SWOOSH

As the familiar, rhythmic rustle of pages filled the air, Isaac finally felt the tight knot in his chest begin to unravel. Across the room, the servants seemed to share in this collective release of tension, quietly retreating to their various tasks.

Isaac straightened into a formal, professional stance, his eyes fixed ahead, occasionally glancing at the prince. Kaiyan, on the other hand, sat casually, completely absorbed in his reading. Perhaps it was the full moon’s influence, but his skin appeared to glow with an otherworldly radiance, his entire being exuding a supernatural energy.

Contrary to the harsh rumors outside the estate, Kaiyan was a much more lenient master. While he showed no mercy for genuine wrongdoings, he was surprisingly reasonable to serve, as long as one exercised a bit of discretion. This recent interaction was a perfect example. The prince rarely engaged in conversation with his subordinates, but once he did, he allowed an unexpected level of openness.

Unlike many aristocrats who demanded only mindless flattery, the prince—a man feared by all—was ironically more generous in this regard. Natasha and the chief chamberlain had both noted his recent shift toward gentleness. Indeed, since the painful nights of the new moon had become more bearable, his temperament had improved significantly. He was undoubtedly more stable than before, when he was surrounded by an aura of violence, hacking through forest beasts every few days.

Serving him still felt like walking on thin ice, but perhaps it had thickened slightly. Still, if that subtle change brought safety to those around him, it was a blessing. Isaac, however, lived a precarious life, serving as a source of medicinal resources for every new moon. He walked on ice thinner than he could imagine. But if his own sacrifice could bring peace to others, it was surely a worthy exchange.

Isaac let out a soft, melancholic sigh. Kaiyan looked up. Isaac hadn’t expected the prince to break his focus so suddenly.

Caught in a moment of stolen observation, he froze. For several embarrassing seconds, he remained motionless. Then, he slowly turned his gaze away, a cold sweat breaking out as his face flushed with heat.

“Are you unwell?”

“No, my lord. My body feels a bit heavy and sluggish, but I am not ill.”

“You seem to experience periodic malaise. Your condition worsened quite suddenly last time as well.”

“…Well, I have never been robust. I slept poorly last night, but I assure you, it is not a recurring ailment,” Isaac forced himself to meet the prince’s eyes, hoping to remove any suspicion from his body language.

Kaiyan studied him in silence for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“If your constitution is truly that fragile, you are ill-suited to serve as a bodyguard.”

“You are correct. I am fortunate to serve you, Lord Kaiyan. Even when unwell, I feel secure in your presence. Since you promised to save my life once if I fall into danger, I find you incredibly dependable.”

These words were a calculated blend of flattery and desperate, heartfelt sincerity. Isaac glanced at the round, luminous face of the moon outside and added, “But if saving me puts you in an unreasonable position, please, you need not honor the request.”

He never wanted Kaiyan endangered because of him. After this quiet admission, Isaac turned back, but the prince simply stared at him, offering no reply. Perhaps it had been an unnecessary, overly emotional remark. Feeling the sudden weight of awkwardness, Isaac quickly shifted the conversation.

“Still, I quite enjoy nights like these. They put me more at ease. Witches should remain cautious, after all, while your condition is at its peak.”

Kaiyan offered only a slight, curt nod. The days since the Guildmaster’s death had been eerily quiet, yet Isaac had never been able to fully shed his wariness. The young magician who had vanished remained a lingering, dark variable.

“While organizing some of the books you were reading, I noticed that a witch can be tracked with a witch’s heart and eye,” Isaac said, injecting a false note of casual interest as he glanced back at the prince.

Kaiyan nodded, his face devoid of reaction. “Such items can be obtained. I will have them before the next new moon.”

“…”

The realization that they were talking about his own heart and eyes hit Isaac like a physical blow. He could manage no words.

“One problem persists,” Kaiyan continued, his brow furrowing faintly. “It would be highly problematic if the Roverni’s witch remains in hiding until the Great New Moon.”

Unless they encountered the witch—or at least some fragment of her spirit—the stolen organs would be entirely useless. There would be no vessel upon which to cast the tracking spell. If Kaiyan missed the window for this Great New Moon, he would be forced to wait another seven years. Seven years before he could satisfy his desire to massacre every gathered witch in one stroke.

Isaac remained silent, his body locked in a paralyzing tension. He found himself unable to articulate his thoughts, uncertain even if he truly desired the prince’s wish to be fulfilled.

“She will likely appear at least once before then,” Kaiyan mused, his tone deceptively calm. “Or perhaps she will attempt to eliminate me first.”

“That would be preferable.”

Isaac lapsed into silence again at the prince’s unbothered, lethal reply. His mind was a tangled, agonizing mess. Kaiyan’s objective was one conflict, but the immediate threat was another. The prince had promised to spare Isaac’s life, but to his mind, Isaac and the witch were two entirely separate entities. Kaiyan seemed utterly resolved to harvest the heart and eyes, even if it meant enduring the agony of the new moon all over again.

If I confess, will he still spare me? Deceiving my lord is a capital offense. Yet, if I continue to hide the truth, he will kill me to obtain the very organs he requires. What in the world am I supposed to do?

Isaac clawed at his hair inwardly, his expression twisting into a pained grimace. Kaiyan suddenly arched a brow.

“Is there something you wish to say?”

“…”

It concerned your promise to save my life once.

Isaac reached for the smallest, most fragile hope. Kaiyan watched him, then gestured for him to continue.

“Could I ask you to save another life instead of my own?”

If he asked the prince to spare the ‘witch’ that meant ‘himself’, it would raise impossible questions about their connection. But with a life hanging in the balance, those details were secondary. He could manufacture an excuse later. Therefore Isaac spoke, clinging to the thread of possibility.

Silence hung heavy in the room, and he waited for acceptance, or perhaps an immediate rejection.

Still, Kaiyan said nothing.

Unable to endure the prince’s gaze while making such a plea, Isaac kept his head lowered. As the silence stretched, he very slowly raised his eyes.

Their gazes locked.

Isaac flinched.

Kaiyan stared at him as if he had just heard something utterly alien and inexplicable. His face remained a mask, yet the look in his eyes was cold enough to frost Isaac’s blood.

“Another life?” the prince murmured, his voice steady but tinged with a sudden, sharp chill. “Is there someone you wish to save in your place, even if it means giving up your own chance to survive?”

“It’s not really my place to say. Someone else seems to be in more immediate danger than I am.”

“Who?”

Isaac struggled to find his words, silenced by the weight of the moment. Those intense, cobalt-blue eyes locked onto his, sending a chilling ache through his chest. He couldn’t describe the sensation, but the suffocating unease gnawing at him felt like a dire warning.

“Tell me. I’ll decide after I hear it. Whom do you wish to save?” Kaiyan demanded again.

Isaac’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He hadn’t expected to be pressed so hard. The Kaiyan he knew would have simply answered with a curt yes or no to end the matter, but this was different.

“Who is it?”

The prince’s voice dropped, carrying a faint, sharp edge of killing intent. Then, something unexpected broke the silence. The maid, who had been quietly clearing the tea service, suddenly lunged at the prince. It was no accident; she had deliberately thrown herself at him.

The moment Isaac saw her vacant, unfocused eyes, he knew something was terribly wrong. Kaiyan sensed the threat behind him and turned, but he was a fraction of a second too late. The small, razor-sharp blade in the maid’s hand carved a deep, jagged cut across his arm.

Had he not evaded the strike, it would have plunged into his back. The moment his blood touched the metal, the blade turned a sickening, pitch-black.

Poison.

“…”

SWOOSH

Isaac lunged forward just as Kaiyan drew his sword and severed the maid’s head. Even decapitated, her body remained upright, twitching forward with another mechanical step toward the prince. Black blood erupted from her severed neck.

Kaiyan quickly ripped the tablecloth from the service trolley, using it as a shield to block the spray. Wherever the blood struck, the fabric instantly hissed, smoked, and withered away. The maid’s blood, her very body, had become a vessel of pure venom.

Isaac scrambled behind the sofa. Several droplets splashed against his clothes, eating through the fabric and leaving scorched, black holes in their wake. He clicked his tongue in frustration as his heart plummeted.

She had finally arrived.

Roverni’s witch.