Chapter 70

Isaac merely blinked; he possessed no better ideas than the prince. His gaze drifted toward the cages.

The cats watched him through narrowed eyes, only to whip their heads away the moment he met their gaze. Their sullen attitude plainly communicated one thing: We know, but we refuse to tell you.

Isaac crouched before the cages. “Hey. Hey, you little bastards. Talk. Right now.” He seized the bars and shook them, but the cats merely twisted their heads aside, refusing to even grant him a glance.

Before long, however, all three noses began twitching in unison. Kaiyan had retrieved a bottle of wine from a display cabinet and poured himself a glass, watching the spectacle with detached indifference as he sipped.

The bouquet was so incredibly rich that even Isaac, who neither particularly enjoyed the drink nor knew much about finer vintages, drew a deeper, involuntary breath. The cats thrust their noses through the silver bars, panting as drool spilled freely from their mouths.

「That… That is the legendary wine from the Ailsent region, from the year when the grape harvest was unparalleled fifty-three years ago! The late Master Buschild made only ten casks of it by hand!」

「Without question! There can barely be a hundred bottles left in the entire world!」

「It has to be that wine! That magnificent, beautiful work of art is here? Oh, heavens above!」

“…”

Isaac stared at them in sheer disbelief. What are those noses? Are they precision detection and analysis instruments?

As Isaac stared, Kaiyan approached with the wineglass in one hand and the bottle in the other. The cats gazed longingly at his hand, their vast eyes glistening with genuine, unshed tears.

“Well?” Kaiyan drawled. “Why did he not wake?” He tilted the bottle, allowing a thin stream of crimson wine to pool into the small dish inside one cage.

Before Isaac could protest such an extravagant waste, the cats plunged their faces toward the dish and began lapping frantically, their tongues striking the plate in a brisk, cheerful rhythm.

Every time the dish emptied, Kaiyan filled it again. After several repetitions, the precious bottle ran dry, and all three cats lay back with expressions of utter, hedonistic bliss, licking the last lingering drops of wine from around their mouths.

「The handsome one was good after all.」

「People truly should be handsome.」

「Naturally. In the end, a face is what matters most.」

They settled comfortably inside their cages, murmuring contentedly. When Kaiyan repeated his question, they answered without a shred of hesitation.

「Because even if his body was intact, his vitality was exhausted. He drained himself completely, down to the last drop. Of course he could not wake until it replenished itself.」

Kaiyan looked toward Isaac, clearly expecting a translation. Isaac, however, only stared blankly at the cats. He understood the words, but the meaning remained elusive.

“I used all my vitality? When did I use enough to do that?”

「Your eyes. Your eyes. You saw where Alikisa was. Do you have any idea how much strength it takes for something that isn’t even a proper witch to use magic like that?」

「And you did it on the night of the full moon, when your condition was already terrible. Of course your body collapsed. You should be grateful you woke after only three days.」

Ah. 

Only then did Isaac remember.

The capital’s nightscape wavering beneath his closed eyelids. His eyes burning as though they were aflame. The crushing emptiness that had dragged him downward as all strength fled his body. Power had been sucked from him so violently that it had felt as though his very life were water spilling through the cracks of a shattered jar. He had simply assumed it was because the sword in his heart was slowly killing him.

“Then every time I try to see where that witch is, all my strength drains away?” Isaac asked, his voice rising in disbelief. “I only saw her for a few seconds. That alone kept me unconscious for three days?”

「What do you mean, only? Something that isn’t even a proper witch used raw magic without any preparation. Be grateful you didn’t shrivel into a skeleton on the spot.」

“I’m still half a witch,” Isaac retorted. “How does it make any sense that seeing one little thing knocked me out for three days? Would I simply die if I looked for a few minutes?”

「It wouldn’t take a few minutes. Maybe thirty seconds.」

「No, twenty. Twenty seconds.」

「No, Muddlehead has fairly good stamina. I’ll wager thirty-five.」

The cats began arguing among themselves with increasing volume.

「There’s no way he survives that long.」

「He could endure at least that much.」

At last, they reached a dark conclusion.

「Muddlehead! Look for Alikisa now! Keep looking until you die!」

「Excellent. I shall measure the time with perfect accuracy.」

「The standard is when his heart stops completely, yes?」

Isaac tried to clobber them, but the cage bars thwarted his reach. He settled for shaking all three cages violently before letting his shoulders slump in defeat. The vision of the capital beneath his eyelids had lasted only a few seconds. Ten at most. If that had rendered him unconscious for three days, then properly examining the surroundings and fixing the witch’s exact location would take…

“…”

Isaac sagged in dejection before suddenly meeting Kaiyan’s eyes. The prince had been watching both him and the cats in silence, and from Isaac’s muttered questions alone, he seemed to have grasped the gravity of the situation.

“Your eyes appear difficult to control in their present state.”

“…It seems so.”

Kaiyan studied the grim tension etched into Isaac’s features. “Are you of mixed blood?”

“Yes.”

Being of mixed blood was no sin, yet Isaac still felt a reflexive, biting pang of apology that it left him unable to wield his power with precision when it was most required.

“Which side? Your mother’s or your father’s?”

“My mother was a witch.”

“And now?”

“My father is dead. My mother crossed into the Land of the New Moon.”

“When?”

“When I was ten…”

“You have lived alone since then? Without a guardian?”

“Yes.” This feels less like a conversation and more like an interrogation into my entire existence, Isaac mused. He answered every question with forced, hollow duty, though just as he began to wonder what this had to do with their present predicament, Kaiyan circled back to the original issue.

“If you possess sufficient energy, can those eyes see the location of a witch at any given time?”

Isaac hesitated. Could I truly locate a target regardless of the lunar cycle or the transition of day and night? He simply did not know. He glanced toward the cats, but they remained far too preoccupied with the pathetic, lingering traces of wine in their empty dish.

“I think… perhaps.” His voice lacked any shred of conviction.

Isaac turned his awareness inward, tentatively prodding at the memory of that moment. He had not made any deliberate effort before; in the sheer, overwhelming chaos of the slaughter, the vision had simply erupted of its own accord. At the time, he had been consumed by only one thought: the witch. He had stood amidst the carnage of familiar faces, shackled by a single, desperate conviction that he could not let her escape. Even if it cost him his life, he had to drag her into the light.

Thump.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

Thump. Thump.

Each pulse hammered with agonizing force. It felt as though a colossal, unseen fist were tightening around his heart, crushing it with rhythmic brutality. Heat flooded his vision, his eyeballs throbbing as if they might burst from their sockets. Pressure drove scalding, phantom blood into them, searing like liquid fire.

His vision wavered and darkened. A wave of dizziness rolled over him, and simultaneously—

“…”

Every trace of warmth drained from Isaac’s body, leaching away from his crown down to the very soles of his feet. His strength evaporated with terrifying, violent speed, as if he were beginning to wither away in a single, wretched instant. 

Is this what it feels like when life pours out of you like water?

Isaac staggered, his back hitting the wall for support. His hand scrambled blindly for a grip, but his knees buckled. He slid down the plaster, collapsing into a sitting position as he fought the encroaching void.

No. I am going to die. Stop it.

Black terror surged over him, but as Isaac’s eyes flew wide and he gasped, the dimming world snapped back into sharp, painful clarity. Before him stood Kaiyan, his crystalline blue eyes fixed on Isaac’s face. The prince had been reaching toward him, but the moment their gazes locked and Kaiyan realized Isaac had regained his bearings, he slowly withdrew his hand.

Only then did Isaac return fully to reality, struck by the ragged, desperate sound of his own breathing. His fingertips felt frigid. When he looked down, his nails were stained a sickly blue. His own complexion was likely just as bloodless.

“If I concentrate a little more… I think I can probably see…” Isaac spoke in jagged, broken intervals. A single bead of sweat gathered at the tip of his nose and fell.

Kaiyan watched him in prolonged, stony silence before curtly commanding, “Stop. I cannot have you dropping dead after a single use.”

Isaac lacked the strength to offer a verbal response. He gave something between a shallow nod and a twitch of the head, continuing to gasp for air. In a heartbeat, he had become deathly exhausted. The toll was absolute. He finally understood why he had been left unconscious for three days.

How in the hell am I supposed to make this useful?

Even as he struggled to draw breath, frustration clouded his face. Kaiyan also seemed lost in thought, offering no immediate answer as he slowly scanned the shelves filled with research on witches.

“We will consider it gradually.” He looked back at Isaac. “Can you stand?”

Isaac glanced up at him. He wanted nothing more than to remain slumped where he was, but he knew better than to presume such comfort. His body felt like cotton soaked through with heavy, freezing water, yet he forced his limbs to obey.

Once Isaac returned to his feet, Kaiyan watched him for a moment and jerked his chin toward the sofa.

Isaac hesitated, uncertain if he had grasped the order correctly. Kaiyan’s brow faintly furrowed, and he motioned again. Isaac hurried to the sofa and perched tentatively on its edge, remaining tense and ready to spring up if he had misjudged the situation.

However, the moment he sat, Kaiyan opened a book and seemed to lose all interest in him. The prince projected such complete indifference that Isaac felt he could have rolled across the cushions without drawing another glance.

A long while passed. Only then did Isaac allow the tension to seep from his muscles until he finally settled into the sofa. Without lifting his gaze from the page, Kaiyan spoke.

“Move your belongings here. You will stay in the annex for the time being.”

“Pardon? …Pardon?” The question escaped him by reflex. He replayed the words in his mind, struggling to bridge the gap between understanding the language and comprehending the intent.

Kaiyan merely shifted his eyes toward Isaac. Apparently, the prospect of repeating himself was too troublesome to contemplate. Isaac had assumed he misheard, but now, a chill began to creep up the back of his neck.

“Ah… I am deeply grateful for Your Highness’s favor, but I could continue serving you by coming and going in the mornings and evenings, as I always have…”

Isaac stopped midway. Kaiyan had lifted his gaze from the book, staring at him for a long, heavy moment, his expression cold and incredulous. He glanced toward the cats in their cages before returning his attention to Isaac.

Right. 

Isaac had forgotten his station. His identity here was now merely the witch-child. He should count himself fortunate he had not been tossed into a dungeon beneath the palace.

“I will retrieve my belongings tomorrow.”

“Today.”

Isaac remained bowed. Above him came only the quiet, rhythmic rustle of another page turning. When he slowly raised his head, Kaiyan’s eyes remained fixed on the text. That was the end of the discussion. The powerless could only obey.

Isaac’s shoulders drooped, but his mind had already begun cataloging his meager possessions and the affairs he needed to put in order. Then, Kaiyan’s voice cut through the silence of the room like a blade.

“Understand this, witch-child. Your eyes belong to me. So does your life.”

Isaac lifted his head, locking gazes with the prince. Kaiyan watched him, his voice low and steady, driving each word into the air as if hammering a nail.

“The moment your breath ceases will be a moment of my choosing. If you cut your own heart again without my permission, as you did this time, I will not forgive you.”

“…I will remember.”

Isaac lowered his head. Kaiyan regarded him for one more beat, then slowly looked away. No further words followed. Not even after Isaac, sitting alone on the sofa with his body and mind utterly spent, began to drift into an exhausted sleep without ever realizing it.

***