CHAPTER 68………….
00068 Eilhart Snein
The castle was in an uproar.
Kant, who had been missing with no word of life or death, had returned in a carriage, his face seemingly unharmed. He looked gaunt, worry etched across his features, but his hygiene was remarkably well-kept. Since this was the first time he had ever disappeared for so long, the Mende family’s servants—who had been running all over the place searching for him—looked on with expressions that said, Of course. They had always known the young master wasn’t the type to get kidnapped by ruffians. If anything, he’d be the one orchestrating a kidnapping.
Kant stepped down from the carriage with his back straight, wearing an expression that at first glance looked almost calm. The carriage was an old, worn street cab, the sort one could see anywhere, and bore no family crest. The Mende butler questioned the driver at length, but all the man said was that he had simply been paid to drive.
And Kant—the only one who could explain the situation—kept his mouth firmly shut.
“Kant! What in the world happened? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Oberon, the eldest son and heir of the Mende family, who had just returned from the palace administration office, rushed forward and embraced his brother. Normally, Kant would have reacted in some way, but this time he swayed limply like a doll with its strings cut. The gleam in his eyes—always searching for a new toy—had dimmed. He lightly pushed Oberon away as if annoyed, then staggered toward his room.
But this time, even he couldn’t just do as he pleased. Veins stood out on Oberon’s forehead as he yanked Kant back by the wrist, his voice low with suppressed anger.
“Mother has been so worried about you she hasn’t even been able to eat. You owe her at least a word of explanation.”
“Nothing happened…”
“Kant! My baby!”
At the sound of a dignified woman’s voice, Kant’s eyes turned toward the stairs. It was the lady of House Mende. She hurried down and, just like Oberon, pulled him into her arms, weeping as she stroked his back again and again. Kant had been waiting for an opportunity to slip away, but seeing her tears, he swallowed a sigh and parted his lips slowly.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“That’s all you have to say? Are you hurt anywhere? Why did you never send word? You must know how I’ve suffered with worry.”
“All this time…”
Kant faltered, hesitating mid-sentence. His hallucinations had already faded by the time he rode back in the carriage. At first, he had been bewildered, and the more he thought about it, the more confused he became. The incident at the Black Market had been real. The memory of arrows piercing his shoulder was painfully vivid. So what was true, and what exactly had happened to him?
It felt as if he had been lured into a strange world and barely escaped. His head felt like it would split, but that wasn’t the problem now. When Ailey pulled him out of that terrible nightmare, he had been so intoxicated by the comfort that he confessed secrets he had never told a soul—secrets no one but them must ever know.
His heart lurched. No, no. It couldn’t be. Even if they knew, how could they possibly prove it? Hiding his trembling fingertips, Kant masked his fear with a smile.
“Nothing happened.”
“Kant!”
“You know me. I was just indulging in a little amusement. Now, I’d like to rest. Brother, please give Father my regards. I’m asking you.”
“What trouble have you caused this time?”
Oberon narrowed his eyes at his brother. If Kant had been in real danger, he would have raised hell. Even if someone threatened his life, he’d only cause a bigger scene. The way he acted now suggested that nothing had happened at all, and yet Oberon felt only unease, not relief. Lady Mende seemed to feel the same; she reached toward Kant’s back, then hesitated and withdrew her hand.
“When will you stop all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your disgraceful behavior! You’re an adult now. How long do you think I can keep covering for you?”
“Oberon! That’s enough. Can’t you see how exhausted he is? We’ll speak of this later.”
“But Mother!”
Baby? Oberon pressed a hand to his forehead. Kant was already old enough to take responsibility for his actions, but his family still treated him like a precious child. Even so, it was true that Oberon himself had often been the one to clean up after Kant’s messes, for the sake of the fragile youngest brother they had once cherished.
But now…
Kant swept a cold, emotionless gaze over them and locked eyes with Oberon. His lips curved into a sly smile, and Oberon, almost involuntarily, made a face of revulsion. It had come straight from his unconscious—his truest feelings.
Kant remained silent until the end, then turned his back and went to his room.
The next morning, news of Kant’s return had already spread. A carriage bearing the Snein family crest pulled up before the Mende ducal estate. Given the close ties between the two houses, no one was surprised, especially since the Snein heir was known for his brashness.
The butler, well accustomed to his ways, led Eilhart to the parlor. But Eilhart instead barged straight into Kant’s quarters. With a sigh, the butler retraced his steps to fetch tea and refreshments.
“Been a while, hasn’t it?”
Closing the door, Eilhart muttered in a grim voice. He had wasted countless days in the underworld searching for Kant, only for the man to return home unharmed. Rage burned within him as he recalled the smirking face of the crime lord who had mocked him during his search—someone he wouldn’t have had to face so often if not for Kant.
“…What do you want.”
But the culprit behind his troubles was sprawled on the bed, his face heavy with sleepiness. Brushing back his disheveled hair, shadows under his eyes, lips cracked, he looked worn down. Eilhart’s expression hardened.
“Who was it?”
“What?”
“Who did this to you.”
“You’re annoying. I’ll leave when it’s time. Why barge in here first thing in the morning? Just let me rest, yeah?”
Kant rubbed his face with his palms and finally managed to sit upright. When Eilhart saw the faint scars peeking from Kant’s open shirt, his lips twisted into a crooked smile. Kant saying he needed rest? That was unthinkable unless he had gone through something truly severe.
Eilhart tilted his head, sneering.
“Didn’t know you were into that. What, did someone use you like a dog?”
“…It wasn’t you bastards?”
“What?”
Kant muttered almost to himself. Not hearing clearly, Eilhart pressed him, and their eyes met. In those ember-colored eyes was naked distrust. Eilhart let out a disbelieving laugh, but Kant spoke again, his tone wary and suspicious.
“You really didn’t do anything? Nothing to tell me?”
“Shouldn’t you be the one explaining? Tell me where you’ve been all this time.”
“Nothing happened.”
“And yet you sent a signal with the jewel?”
“It broke by accident.”
“Hey.”
Eilhart grabbed Kant by the collar, shoving him against the bedframe, voice low and threatening.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Kant flinched involuntarily, then glared back with a savage look. Eilhart noticed it and laughed out loud—he couldn’t hold it in.
“You just flinched?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“How can I not laugh? This is hilarious. What could’ve happened to make Kant Mende, of all people, so cautious? Not talking?”
“Why should I trust you?”
Not only did Kant wear open distrust on his face, he spoke it outright. Eilhart’s incredulity hardened into coldness.
“Is this a joke? I’ve been searching every damn place for you—brothels, slums, markets, you name it. If you don’t talk now, I swear I’ll kill you.”
“…”
Was he serious? Kant’s eyes narrowed, weighing his words. Once suspicion took root, it grew endlessly. He even started seeing visions of Eilhart strangling him. His distrust had already sprouted and spread too deep. He opened his mouth, then shut it again and turned away.
Eilhart ground his teeth, grabbing Kant’s chin to force his gaze back.
“Listen up, you little shit. If you try to pull away now, you’ll be the one taking the fall for everything.”
“Hah. Who are you calling a dog? You’re the obedient hound here. Think I’ll just sit back? If you try that, I’ll drag you down to hell with me.”
“Big words for someone whose body’s trembling.”
“Fuck… that’s just…”
Kant bit his lip, muttering under his breath. His body trembled intermittently, trauma forcing its way through. Shame colored his face red, and Eilhart smirked. Kant glared at him with murderous intent, spitting curses like venom. He had once believed the world beneath his feet, feared nothing—but now, after being bound and riddled with arrows, even Eilhart’s threats left him trembling. It was worse than being locked in a basement.
“Get out.”
“…”
“Get out of my room.”
“No.”
Eilhart tossed a trinket up and down with a mocking smile.
“Why should I leave? Talk, before I make you.”
Kant raked his hands through his hair in frustration, then finally sighed deeply and muttered:
“Does it even make sense? Someone strong enough to snap chains with bare hands?”
“Huh?”
“…The Cabré foster daughter. Some kind of hypnotist, or maybe a dark mage.”
“What the hell are you babbling about?”
“Or maybe I dreamed it. Maybe I’ve been brainwashed. Maybe I’m just crazy.”
Chains snapping, magic—it sounded like something out of a novel. Having said it, he suddenly yanked the blanket over himself and lay down, wordlessly demanding that Eilhart leave. But Eilhart wasn’t the type to respect boundaries.
“That whore made someone do this to you?”
“I said no! Just leave me alone. I can’t even stand to look at your face right now.”
“What?”
“And don’t you dare talk about her like that.”
Kant poked his face out of the blanket to warn him, then hid again. Eilhart laughed bitterly, then tried to drag him out of bed until the butler intervened, politely escorting him out at Kant’s orders. Furious, Eilhart slammed the door and shouted curses, only to be checked by nearby guards.
What did he mean by ‘don’t speak carelessly’?
Had he said anything out of line? Their conversations were always coarse, like those of common thugs. Why would Kant suddenly take offense now? Thinking back, Eilhart recalled calling Lady Cabré “whore-like.”
No way…
“You’re out of your mind,” he muttered, laughing darkly. Passing maids glanced at him nervously as he cackled, then abruptly stopped, his eyes turning black with menace.
“Fuck. Can’t play with you anymore.”
Next time, Kant could come to him. Cursing his maddened friend, Eilhart climbed into his carriage.
