Chapter 5

Since that day, he had walked his path alone.

A child cast adrift could find a way to endure. The gold coins she left behind provided a cushion, and while Isaac remained slow and somewhat dazed in certain regards, he proved to be a surprisingly clever boy.

During the full moon, when witches were said to wither, his body grew listless and sluggish. During the new moon, the time of the witches’ festival, his spirits soared as if he were intoxicated. When he caught the scent of goat meat or wine, his mouth would water; when he saw a cross, he felt a sharp, instinctive unease. Yet that was the extent of it. With only half the blood of a witch flowing through his veins, he found it remarkably easy to pass among ordinary, decent humans as a hardworking, commendable orphan.

And that consistency had brought him to his present life.

Living day by day with diligence, quiet and peace in every motion.

It was the promise Isaac had sworn by the sacred River of the Moon, and he continued to honor that oath even now.

In this tranquil existence, where his only grievance was the poverty that forced him to ration food before payday, there was but one lingering desire.

“I need to save enough to move to a quiet village in the countryside… The capital, housing the royal palace, is far too treacherous for witches. I hear there are places far off where witches and humans live together in harmony…” Isaac murmured the words into the quiet, punctuated by a sigh.

Quite a few witches who missed the moon-shard boat remained in this territory. Even within the capital, there must be others living with their true identities shielded. Their lives, he imagined, must be a perpetual, breathless tightrope walk.

Isaac was not in their level of danger, but he shared their hunger for peace and ease of mind. That was why he hoarded his coins like an ant and labored diligently.

Isaac glanced at the clock. There was little time remaining before his scheduled watch. He needed to rest, or the long night would be unbearable. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and drifted toward sleep. Soon, his heavy body sank into drowsiness, and his scattered thoughts dissolved into dreams.

He would sleep, wake, and return to his labor. If he worked faithfully and saved his earnings, he would travel to a peaceful country village, construct a modest brick house, cultivate a vibrant garden, find a kind girl, and live in quiet harmony…

「Look at him.」

「Everything this boy consumes must seep straight into his dreams. Observe how plump that dream has become. It is not merely plump; it is downright chubby.」

「Dreaming is a pleasant reprieve while it lasts… Ah, Third!」

How long had he slumbered?

At some point, a cacophony of voices, as disjointed as a fading dream, began to prick at his ears. Then, a sharp, piercing yowl tore through the silence.

Wide awake in an instant, Isaac bolted upright and sharpened every sense, scanning the shadows.

The room lay in absolute, quiet darkness, every item undisturbed. Outside, faint moonlight filtered through the curtains, revealing nothing. No movement stirred.

“…?”

It felt as though his ears had been besieged by noise, though he had heard only the cry of an animal.

Isaac tilted his head, yet the surroundings remained hauntingly still. Honestly, for a fleeting heartbeat, Isaac was terrified. In the gloom, he saw not one or two, but six eyes gleaming back at him.

Naturally, the sight was chilling.

“What the hell are you lot doing there?” Isaac gasped, his fingers pressed hard against his thudding chest. As his vision cleared, he noticed one of the cats holding its front paw at an unnatural angle. A jagged, piercing point protruded from the pad of its foot.

Isaac acted on instinct before his conscious mind could intervene. He seized the cat by the scruff of its neck. The creature erupted into a frantic, violent thrashing, but its escape attempt was futile against Isaac’s iron grip.

“Hey, hey, hey. Steady now. Where in the hell did you pick up something like this in your paw?”

He maintained a professional, steady hold despite the cat’s desperate clawing. Moving the creature beneath the warm glow of the lamplight, Isaac realized the object wasn’t a mere thorn, but a long, rusted nail. It must have skewered the paw while the cat prowled the overgrown graves in the front yard.

Isaac’s brow furrowed. Aware that the creature would bolt the second he loosened his hold, he gripped it more firmly and retrieved his medicine box. He tightened his grasp on the wounded limb.

“Just grit your teeth for a second—it will be over in a flash.”

“Yow!”

As the cry echoed, Isaac yanked the nail free in one fluid, practiced motion. The cat flinched violently, shrieking in pain. Isaac offered his own forearm as a buffer against the cat’s desperate, flailing claws, deftly dabbing disinfectant onto the raw puncture wound before securing a clean bandage around the paw. It would likely chew the dressing to pieces within minutes, but it would suffice for the medicine to penetrate the tissue.

As Isaac cinched the final knot, the cat’s frantic energy finally dissipated. It went limp, settling into a curled, quiet ball on his lap.

Observing the lattice of fresh claw marks marring Isaac’s forearm, the creature seemed to harbor a flicker of remorse; it leaned forward and delivered a single, sandpaper-rough lick to the site. The friction of its tongue only aggravated the stinging, yet Isaac found an odd, undeniable charm in the gesture.

Isaac stroked the cat’s soft fur with a gentle hand.

“Your eyes are triple the size of any normal cat’s, yet you still couldn’t see this before stepping on it? What good is all that size if you don’t use them? Eyes are meant to be functional.”

No sooner had Isaac clicked his tongue in disappointment than the cat’s fur stood on end. With a sharp, furious HISS, it lashed out at him.

“Ah! Ow, ow…”

After carving one last set of crimson souvenirs into Isaac’s forearm, the cat dismounted his lap with an air of immense dignity. It paced toward the window frame, widened its already gargantuan eyes to glare at Isaac one final time, and vanished into the night.

“That little bastard pays back kindness with pure malice… Hey, did I say something wrong?”

Isaac grumbled toward the empty window, but the night offered no response.

He applied disinfectant to his own lacerated skin and returned the kit to its place. Some people claimed their cats returned favors by leaving dead mice on their pillows. Compared to that, he supposed this was an improvement.

Isaac scowled at the clock, watching as the hands had marched forward during his impromptu medical procedure. He abandoned all hope of sleep and climbed to his feet. It was far too late to salvage his rest, so he decided he would be better off grabbing a crust of bread and departing early.

Isaac’s post that night was the lonely vigil at Blue Shadow Palace.

Situated at the extreme western perimeter within the royal castle walls, the structure stood isolated, a considerable distance from the bustling main palace. Hemmed in by the mountain foothills and cradled by a serene lake and dense forest, the palace boasted scenery so magnificent that it remained a sanctuary for all seasons—a cool retreat in the sweltering heat of summer and a warm haven during the biting winters. It had once been a favored residence of the royal family, at least until the previous year.

Everything changed once Prince Kaiyan returned from the frontier last autumn to claim the palace as his own.

Visitors, previously frequent, vanished overnight. Whether high-ranking noble or lowly servant, everyone harbored a deep, instinctive dread of Kaiyan, and the prince reciprocated that distance with a blatant aversion to company. It was not that he actively mistreated his guests; he simply treated them as if they were invisible. Unless a visitor dared to cross the threshold into his personal quarters, he showed no concern for whether they lounged in the gardens or loitered in the reception halls. To put it bluntly, he dismissed their very existence.

The prince was a man defined by a profound, chilling lack of interest in humanity.

“It isn’t just a lack of interest… the man possesses neither a shred of humanity nor a sliver of mercy,” one guard remarked.

“Perhaps he’s entirely devoid of emotion,” another suggested.

Isaac had arrived at his post early, crouching beside two senior guards who stood side by side, passing the time while he awaited his designated night-shift partner.

“If a trait contains the word ‘feeling,’ you can be certain he lacks it,” Isaac interjected.

“Why would you say that? Surely words like cold-hearted, heartless, or merciless apply. Those are qualities, too.”

The senior guards, who had been whispering amongst themselves, promptly clamped their mouths shut and cast a downward glance at Isaac when he muttered his offhand observation. Then, they exchanged slow, heavy nods. Yes, those descriptors fit the prince with agonizing precision.

Isaac let their hushed murmurs wash over him, his gaze fixed on the moonlit lake. While the distant forest remained a shroud of blackness, the night sky was brilliant, illuminated by a moon just past its zenith. The surface of the lake, perfectly still and devoid of even a ripple, captured a second, ghostly moon submerged within its depths.

“Blue Shadow Palace really is beautiful, at least,” Isaac murmured.

At his words, the guards clicked their tongues in annoyance.

“What good is scenery? I would prefer to stand guard at the main palace or the North Palace, even if the views were hideous.”

“He really does get obsessed with pretty things at the most inconvenient times… One day, that temperament is going to land him in serious trouble. God, I despise guarding Blue Shadow Palace more than anywhere else.”

“Same here. Regardless, it’s time for the shift change. Why is that man Vern not here yet?” one guard grumbled, glancing toward the distant clock tower.

As if signaled by the question, a bell tolled eleven in the distance, marking the commencement of Isaac’s duty. He brushed the dirt from his uniform and stood to attention.

“Good work. Go get some rest. I will take over from here.”

“You’re standing guard alone? What about Vern?”

“He’ll arrive shortly. Besides, it’s not as if anything is going to happen here.”

“True enough. Still, Vern is late all the damn time. Fine, we’re heading in. Good luck.”

With a few light pats on his shoulder, the guards turned away, leaving Isaac alone to await his tardy colleague. Beyond the shrubbery lay the lake, and beside it, the dense, suffocating forest.

The moon hung slender and pale in the sky.

Isaac stood alone.

It really is lovely.

The residual force of the full moon made his limbs feel heavy and languid, yet he stared at the landscape as though entranced. Isaac found himself wishing that Vern would never show up, so that he might possess this ethereal scene in silence for the duration of the night.

In truth, it mattered little whether one guard or two kept watch; Blue Shadow Palace was so thoroughly avoided by anyone with sense that the very concept of security here felt like a farce. Who would attempt an infiltration? From the outside? Through the forest, which grew treacherous as it crawled into the mountain foothills? Across the lake, so vast and deep that the distance was impossible to swim? Or from the main palace, where the owner’s terrifying reputation was common knowledge? Those premises were impossible.

This duty was the easiest in the royal service—and also the most loathed. Because here, more than anywhere else, there existed a far greater chance of witnessing something one would rather leave unseen.

“…Mm. No, Vern really should come. Yes, two is always better than one.”

No sooner had Isaac corrected his own stray thought than he heard a rustle from within the forest. He spun around. Someone approached through the dark woods. He could not identify the figure in the gloom, but the shadow moved with slow, heavy steps, and its breathing sounded rough and ragged.

“Who goes there?”