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This is how our story will ever be told if it were to. It's a one sided love, or at least, that's what it ever get to be. Not once have I ever tried to approach you. I don't see the point in it.
We stood on a completely different ground. We both have our own life and problems. Roping you into the mess I'm in would just be dissatisfying for me as it will to you. I kept this a secret partly because of my insecurities too.
Though, I know your secret and what you are, I see a version of you that nobody ever had seen. They always say that demons aren't capable of human emotions, you prove them wrong. I made the conclusion you may have human blood in you for you to be able to do so.
Either way, I never once thought of exposing your identity to the royalty nor the aristocrat. Because I've fallen for you. And even if I did tell them, no one would believe me.
After all, I'm just the third child of Crona family. My noble status hold no worth to anybody. Even my parents thought me as the family curse.
But you didn't, or more like you didn't care. After all what am I, the abused child have anything to do with the most trusted demon king pawn; you.
Ryan, everyday I wake up and goes on where the tide of fate brings me just because of your entire existence. All my attempts are just that; attempts.
You were a hope. I watch you from afar. Even as I was occupied by the school kids messing around and not to mention the crown prince and his little followers daily taunts, the only thing keeping me together is the thought of you.
And I'm happy as it is, watching you from afar and fall in love with you, everything that you do and the way you are. You come to me to tease me of being trouble-attractor but that's it. You never lay a hand on me nor did you ever say hurtful things to me. And I know it's simply because you didn't care, but it's what made me fell for you in the first place.
I don't think you remember, but the first time we met is on my 7th birthday, at that time, all seems to be going well. My parents and my siblings adores me. But the noble kids that attend the party decide to ruin my reputation and frame me of hurting them. And just like that, everyone turn their backs on me. I was clueless and didn't understand. I was seven...
Crying in the garden after my parents screamed at me on my birthday in front of everyone. It all went downhill from there till this day to be honest.
But you were there. You knew and witness everything. You came to me, offering a hand and comforted me. You wipe my tears and you said; "It seems trouble will keep finding you from today onwards. Be strong." And you sent me back into the manor.
Since then, that has been the only memory I treasure everyday.
Today, I would be in daze thinking of how far I've gone; recruit by the demon king himself to be his ally in return for protection. I asked for two; my service in return of your safety. And the King agreed. I've lost so many... But if you're still there, I'll keep fighting till my last breath. Forever. Without you noticing me. Because I always love you.
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Ryan’s gaze lingered on Allen from across the training grounds, his crimson eyes narrowing in contemplation. Allen always seemed lost in thought, a faint air of melancholy hanging about him, yet there was a strength beneath the fragility—something Ryan had never quite been able to define.
He remembered that birthday. The boy had been small, trembling in the garden under the weight of his own tears. Ryan hadn’t intended to get involved—he rarely did with human matters—but something about the rawness of Allen’s grief had caught him off guard. That day, he had spoken words he’d thought Allen would forget. Yet here Allen was, years later, now standing on his own, despite the cruelty of the world around him.
Ryan had always known Allen was watching him. Those quiet glances, the subtle way Allen’s gaze would light up briefly before returning to its usual guarded expression. Ryan pretended not to notice, perhaps out of respect for Allen’s unspoken wishes, or perhaps because it was easier that way. Demons, after all, weren’t supposed to meddle with emotions they couldn’t fully comprehend. But even Ryan couldn’t deny the warmth that occasionally flickered in his chest when he saw Allen watching him like that.
He also knew the sacrifices Allen had made. The whispered conversations between the Demon King’s court spoke of a deal—a bargain Allen had struck in exchange for Ryan’s safety. It was reckless, selfless, and infuriating. Why would a boy who had suffered so much tie his fate to a demon who could never reciprocate? It wasn’t weakness that drove Allen, Ryan realized, but love. Pure, unrelenting love.
Ryan’s hands clenched into fists. He didn’t deserve that devotion. He was no savior, no beacon of hope. He was a tool of the Demon King, a creature bound by loyalty and duty, yet here was Allen, carrying a torch for someone who barely acknowledged him beyond passing interactions.
And yet, Ryan couldn’t bring himself to push Allen away. He’d seen the light in Allen’s eyes when their paths crossed, the way Allen held onto that fleeting hope like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Ryan wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the chasm between them. But every time he tried, the words stuck in his throat. It wasn’t just the divide between human and demon—it was the weight of what Allen’s love meant, and the fear of breaking something so fragile, so precious.
So Ryan watched, pretending not to notice. But deep down, he wondered if one day, he might have the courage to step closer to Allen, to offer more than fleeting words, and to prove that even a demon could carry the burden of love.
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Or perhaps one day, whent it's all too late, only then you realise what it all meant. I learnt first hand to never procrastinate things that hasn't been done. Now it's all too late for me. All I could offer is my life in exchange of a fleeting moment to watch you once again. Because that is enough for me.
In return I give my up most loyalty to the demon king. There's really no reason for me to hesitate when my own kind shunt me away. I sacrifice my sanity to give understanding to demons on how human minds work.
Even then, the other demons look down upon me in disgust. It's not that I'm not used to it, really, I understand their weariness; a traitor wouldn't hesitate to do it again once pushed to choose. But as long as the demon king held his promise then there's no need for him to worry. And he knows.
I climb the hierarchy to be one of the most trusted by the demon King. And I earned it with my all. As weak as I am, when it really comes to you, what can't I face? I've killed, betray and massacre people for you. If they do not care of me why should I ever does? Unless it's for you. I never kill without reason nor do I spill the blood of the innocent.
Much like you, a peculiar demon who disguise as a human and live among us. You could've gotten away easily if you did, but you didn't. One of the more reason I fell for you.
Oh to be doomed in this fate. All mine, for you. I don't need you to know. I just want you to keep being you.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Ryan had heard whispers of Allen's growing reputation. Among the ranks of the Demon King's court, Allen was spoken of with a mixture of awe and unease. A human who had clawed his way to trust through unwavering loyalty and calculated ruthlessness—an anomaly, even by their standards.
He knew the cost of such loyalty, the shadows it cast on Allen’s once-bright eyes. And yet, Allen never faltered, never hesitated, even as the weight of his actions bore down on him. Ryan wondered if Allen even recognized the magnitude of what he’d become—a force driven by love and sorrow, so entwined that one could hardly exist without the other.
From the shadows, Ryan observed Allen during court assemblies and missions. Allen carried himself with a quiet, deliberate determination, his gaze sharp but distant, as though his mind lingered somewhere far away. Ryan could see the toll it took on him, the cracks in the mask Allen wore. And though Ryan said nothing, he felt a pang of guilt for being the unspoken catalyst of it all.
What unsettled Ryan most was Allen's unwavering devotion. Even without direct acknowledgment, Allen continued to serve, to sacrifice, to fight for something Ryan wasn’t sure he deserved. It wasn’t as though Ryan had been blind to the boy’s feelings. No, he’d seen it in every stolen glance, every moment Allen lingered just a little too long in his presence. And Ryan… he had done nothing. Not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know how to.
Demons were creatures of survival, instinct, and power. Love, in its human form, was foreign, intangible. Yet Allen made it feel tangible, even to someone like Ryan. He wondered if Allen knew how much his devotion had changed him—made him question the boundaries he had long accepted, the emotions he had believed he could never feel.
But Ryan never acted, and perhaps that was his greatest failure. He had convinced himself that Allen didn’t need his acknowledgment, that silence was safer. After all, what could he offer someone who had already given up everything for him?
And now, watching Allen move through the ranks, his once-vivid light dulled by the weight of his choices, Ryan felt the sting of regret. A regret he couldn’t voice, couldn’t act upon. Not now. Not when Allen had built a life on the foundation of unspoken words and unnoticed glances.
Perhaps, Ryan thought, one day he would find the courage to step into Allen’s light, to offer him the acknowledgment he deserved. But by then, he feared, it might be too late. And all he would have left was the memory of a boy who had given everything for love, even when it wasn’t returned.
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The demon King army has been restless. And words pass around.
The King summoned you one day to 'talk' but it was to confront. I was there too. He needs to make sure.
A rumor spread that Ryan is planning to overthrow the King reigns. And so he demands answers. You said you have such plans, only if the King didn't kept your promise. What was your promise? Because the King glance at me after you said such thing. Was I fooled and didn't know of what you and the King himself have talk about me...?
Panic blossoming in my heart but I showed none. And the King ask of me about our deal. And I said to him as well, keep your promise then I'll never go against his majesty. No reason to.
And his highness dismiss me to have a private conversation with you. To talk about his and yours deal. I want to know what it is... But I have no reason to get too close and involve around you and so I left.
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Ryan stood silently as the heavy doors of the throne room closed behind Allen. The faint echo lingered in the vast hall before the Demon King spoke, his voice sharp yet measured.
"Do you know what that boy has sacrificed for you?"
Ryan didn’t respond immediately. His crimson eyes followed the faint shadow Allen's retreating figure left on the ground, lingering on the spot where he had stood just moments ago. "I’m aware," Ryan replied, his voice low, almost resigned.
"Are you?" The King leaned forward, his sharp gaze boring into Ryan. "He has shed blood, betrayed his kind, and forfeited every shred of his humanity—all for the sake of a promise I made to you. A promise you demanded, even when you had no right to."
Ryan’s jaw tightened, the weight of the King's words pressing against him. "He is not just some pawn in your army," Ryan said firmly. "He is... more than that. More than he realizes."
The King smirked, leaning back into his throne. "More than he realizes, indeed. You’ve tethered him to a life of servitude, Ryan, all without his knowledge. And for what? To protect him? To keep him at arm's length while he burns himself out for you?"
"I only asked for one thing," Ryan countered, his voice sharp now. "That you keep him alive. Safe. That was the promise."
"And I have kept it," the King said, his tone cold and final. "But at what cost? He fights not for me, but for you. Every choice he makes is to ensure your survival. He is loyal to me only because it serves his devotion to you. Tell me, Ryan—what do you intend to do with a loyalty so blind?"
Ryan didn’t answer, his silence heavy with unspoken conflict. He hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t wanted Allen to bind his fate to him so irrevocably. All Ryan had wanted was to shield the boy from the cruelties of the world, to ensure he could live without fear of being cast aside again. But instead, he had become the very thing that consumed Allen's existence.
The King’s voice softened, though his words were no less cutting. "You cannot run from this forever. That boy’s heart is fragile, Ryan, no matter how strong he pretends to be. If you let him break, he will take you down with him. And I will not have my army fractured by your negligence."
Ryan's fists clenched at his sides. "I’ve never asked him to fight for me. I’ve never asked for any of this."
"No," the King agreed. "You didn’t. But that doesn’t absolve you of responsibility."
Ryan looked away, his mind swirling with thoughts of Allen—his quiet resilience, his unwavering dedication, the way he stood firm even as the world turned its back on him. He didn’t deserve Allen’s love, but the boy had given it to him anyway, freely and unconditionally.
"What do you want me to do?" Ryan finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The King’s eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement—or pity. "That’s for you to decide. But if you let this continue as it is, you will lose him. And when you do, you will come to understand what it truly means to regret."
Ryan said nothing as the King dismissed him, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on his shoulders. As he stepped out of the throne room, he found himself glancing down the corridor where Allen had disappeared, his chest tightening with an ache he couldn’t quite name.
For the first time in centuries, Ryan felt truly uncertain.
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One day as I was put in a trance and immense amount of pressure through my memories, I went overdrive, blood poor out from my nose and I loose consciousness and I was sent back to my chamber in the castle.
When I woke up, I asked the servant to push me out to the balcony. And there, I asked to be left alone to think. It was 20 years worth of memory being dug and face all over again. All those painful memories. Those traumas.
Eyes unfocused, tears running down my cheeks. And I feel numb. I don't even registered someone was approaching me at that time. It was you.
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Ryan stood a few steps behind Allen, the quiet breeze carrying the faint scent of the garden below. He hadn't intended to approach—he rarely did—but something about Allen's slumped posture and distant gaze pulled him forward. He’d heard what happened, the whispers among the servants about Allen's collapse, the blood, and the torment etched into his features even in unconsciousness.
Now, as Ryan stepped closer, he saw the tear tracks glistening on Allen's cheeks, the way his usually guarded expression was stripped bare, leaving only raw vulnerability. Allen didn’t react, his glassy eyes fixed on the horizon as though the world beyond held answers he couldn’t find within himself.
"You're crying," Ryan said softly, his voice breaking the fragile silence.
Allen flinched slightly, as if only now realizing he wasn’t alone. He wiped at his face hastily, though the tears didn’t stop. "I didn’t hear you come in," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Ryan hesitated, unsure of what to say. The air between them felt heavier than usual, burdened by the weight of unspoken words. Finally, he settled into a chair beside Allen, close enough to be present but far enough to respect the fragile boundaries Allen always seemed to maintain.
"You shouldn’t be out here in your condition," Ryan said after a long pause. "You need to rest."
Allen let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter and distant. "Rest? I don’t think I’ve ever truly rested, Ryan. Not in twenty years. Not in this life."
Ryan's gaze flickered to the scars barely visible beneath Allen's collar, to the faint tremor in his hands as he gripped the edge of the balcony. He wanted to say something—anything—to ease the storm raging inside the boy, but the words felt inadequate.
"I saw everything again," Allen continued, his voice trembling. "Every moment, every wound, every betrayal. It felt like drowning, over and over, with no end. And for what? To remember why I fight? Why I gave up everything?"
Ryan’s chest tightened. He could see the cracks forming, the way Allen’s walls were finally giving way under the weight of his past. And he knew he was part of the burden Allen carried, whether Allen realized it or not.
"You fight because you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for," Ryan said quietly. "Stronger than even you believe."
Allen turned to look at him then, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Ryan couldn’t quite name—pain, anger, or maybe just the ghost of hope. "Strong? Is that what you think this is? Strength?" He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I’m not strong, Ryan. I’m just… broken. And I keep moving because if I stop, there’s nothing left."
The words struck Ryan harder than he expected, and for a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, he reached out, hesitating briefly before placing a hand on Allen’s shoulder.
"You’re not broken," Ryan said, his voice firm but gentle. "You’ve survived things most people couldn’t. That’s not weakness. That’s resilience."
Allen’s gaze softened, his tears slowing as he regarded Ryan with an unreadable expression. "Why are you here, Ryan?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked out at the horizon, the same view Allen had been staring at moments before. "Because I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone," he said simply.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Allen allowed himself to lean into the comfort of another’s presence, the silence between them speaking louder than words ever could.
Ryan stood a few steps behind Allen, the quiet breeze carrying the faint scent of the garden below. He hadn't intended to approach—he rarely did—but something about Allen's slumped posture and distant gaze pulled him forward. He’d heard what happened, the whispers among the servants about Allen's collapse, the blood, and the torment etched into his features even in unconsciousness.
Now, as Ryan stepped closer, he saw the tear tracks glistening on Allen's cheeks, the way his usually guarded expression was stripped bare, leaving only raw vulnerability. Allen didn’t react, his glassy eyes fixed on the horizon as though the world beyond held answers he couldn’t find within himself.
"You're crying," Ryan said softly, his voice breaking the fragile silence.
Allen flinched slightly, as if only now realizing he wasn’t alone. He wiped at his face hastily, though the tears didn’t stop. "I didn’t hear you come in," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Ryan hesitated, unsure of what to say. The air between them felt heavier than usual, burdened by the weight of unspoken words. Finally, he settled into a chair beside Allen, close enough to be present but far enough to respect the fragile boundaries Allen always seemed to maintain.
"You shouldn’t be out here in your condition," Ryan said after a long pause. "You need to rest."
Allen let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter and distant. "Rest? I don’t think I’ve ever truly rested, Ryan. Not in twenty years. Not in this life."
Ryan's gaze flickered to the scars barely visible beneath Allen's collar, to the faint tremor in his hands as he gripped the edge of the balcony. He wanted to say something—anything—to ease the storm raging inside the boy, but the words felt inadequate.
"I saw everything again," Allen continued, his voice trembling. "Every moment, every wound, every betrayal. It felt like drowning, over and over, with no end. And for what? To remember why I fight? Why I gave up everything?"
Ryan’s chest tightened. He could see the cracks forming, the way Allen’s walls were finally giving way under the weight of his past. And he knew he was part of the burden Allen carried, whether Allen realized it or not.
"You fight because you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for," Ryan said quietly. "Stronger than even you believe."
Allen turned to look at him then, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Ryan couldn’t quite name—pain, anger, or maybe just the ghost of hope. "Strong? Is that what you think this is? Strength?" He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I’m not strong, Ryan. I’m just… broken. And I keep moving because if I stop, there’s nothing left."
The words struck Ryan harder than he expected, and for a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, he reached out, hesitating briefly before placing a hand on Allen’s shoulder.
"You’re not broken," Ryan said, his voice firm but gentle. "You’ve survived things most people couldn’t. That’s not weakness. That’s resilience."
Allen’s gaze softened, his tears slowing as he regarded Ryan with an unreadable expression. "Why are you here, Ryan?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked out at the horizon, the same view Allen had been staring at moments before. "Because I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone," he said simply.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Allen allowed himself to lean into the comfort of another’s presence, the silence between them speaking louder than words ever could.
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But this moment is fleeting. I'm not in the right state of mind. I wouldn't have given out anything to you if you came when I'm prepared.... I don't want to. I don't want you to look at me. Because that would make me dream of fighting for something that I know I can't have.
I dozed off on the chair. Exhaustion consumed me. And you carried me back in to the room and tuck me to bed. Perhaps I would forgot today ever happened too.
But that hazy memory of you wiping my tears once again burnt in my mind even if it's an illusion. Only the difference this time, you only wipe the tears from my left eye, the right eye is bestow upon me by the demon King after I lost mine in a battle. A half hideous face suits the traitor of human kind, the demon King servant.
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Ryan watched Allen as he slept, his breathing uneven even in the embrace of rest. The pale moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminated the faint tear stains on his cheeks, a cruel reminder of the storm Allen endured alone. Ryan’s fingers lingered on the edge of the blanket he’d pulled over Allen, his mind restless despite the stillness of the room.
He had always avoided moments like this—moments where the fragile threads of connection between them felt too real, too tangible. And yet, here he was, standing at the edge of something he didn’t know how to face.
Allen’s face, though softened in sleep, bore the marks of his sacrifices. The scars, the hollowed expression, and the eye bestowed upon him by the Demon King—a cruel symbol of his transformation from human outcast to a weapon of the demon court. Ryan’s gaze lingered on that eye, a flicker of regret tightening in his chest.
He hadn’t meant for Allen to bear so much. The deal with the Demon King had been simple in Ryan’s mind at the time: protect the boy, ensure his survival. But somewhere along the way, Allen had become more than just someone to protect. He had become a constant presence, a reminder of humanity’s strength and fragility, and the weight of unspoken feelings Ryan wasn’t sure he could ever name.
When Allen stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently, Ryan stepped back, retreating into the shadowed corner of the room. He couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely, not yet.
Looking at Allen now, Ryan was reminded of how much the boy had given up—not just for survival, but for him. And for what? A fleeting touch, a stolen glance, a promise Ryan had made without realizing the chains it would forge between them.
As Ryan stood there, he realized the depth of his failure. He had let Allen fall, let him carry a burden he was never meant to bear alone. And now, seeing him like this, so fragile yet so determined, Ryan felt something stir within him. A resolve he hadn’t acknowledged before.
But Ryan knew better than to act on it now. Allen didn’t want his gaze, his attention—didn’t want to hope for something Ryan wasn’t ready to give. So Ryan turned and left the room, the faint memory of wiping away Allen’s tears lingering in his mind.
Outside the door, Ryan paused, his hand resting on the cold wood. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing Allen wouldn’t hear. “For everything.”
Then, with a heavy heart, Ryan walked away, leaving Allen to dream—or forget—the fleeting moments they shared.
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It took a month for me to recover. I was in a coma, waking up to only drink, eat and take care of my hygiene. It was fleeting. On contrary, the dream was long, and endless. From the moment it all went downhill until now the very now, I dreamt it all. I dreamt of how they kill all the creatures of the forest because they thought I was working with the demons through them. How they accuse me of treason. And how my siblings turns their back on me. How I was exploited back in school by perverted teachers. How I was bullied endlessly by the crown prince and his lackeys. How they blackmail me to expose my sexuality.
How they push me until the very choice I had was to kill every single member of my family because they will be tortured if I didn't. And the core of it all, the day you wiped my tears in the garden and my birthday gift. It was a pendant. A blue pendant. It was shiny. I thought it was really beautiful but I never dare to wear them in fear people would question, accuse and took it away from me. I kept it safe with me until now. I wore it under my clothes and no one noticed. They don't even care, thinking it was from my family.
The king figured it out but he said nothing. Not that it concerns him at all. And so when I wake up from my coma feeling recharged I reach to my chest and felt the pendant and sigh in relief. Back again to my work.
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Allen returned to his duties as if the month of silence and stillness had been no more than a fleeting pause in the endless storm of his life. His steps were steady, his demeanor calm, but beneath the surface, a part of him still lingered in that endless dream—a dream that had dredged up every wound, every betrayal, and every fragment of hope he had buried deep within himself.
The pendant, cool and reassuring against his chest, was his only anchor. It was more than just a trinket; it was a reminder of the fleeting kindness that had once touched his broken world. A single moment of warmth that had kept him going through the years of despair.
Ryan noticed the change immediately when Allen returned. He always did. Allen carried himself with his usual efficiency, but there was a quiet exhaustion in his movements, a heaviness that hadn’t fully lifted despite his recovery. Ryan watched from the shadows, as he often did, his sharp gaze catching every subtle detail—the faint tremor in Allen’s hands, the way his fingers brushed against his chest as if ensuring something was still there.
The blue pendant.
Ryan had almost forgotten about it, a gift he’d given impulsively all those years ago, back when Allen was just a boy crying alone in the garden. It had been meaningless to him then—a shiny, simple thing to distract a child from his tears. He hadn’t expected Allen to hold onto it, to treasure it as if it were a lifeline. And yet, he had.
He thought about the dreams Allen must have endured during his coma, the memories that clawed their way to the surface and refused to let him rest. Ryan knew some of what Allen had been through—he’d heard whispers of the boy’s past, the cruelty he’d endured, the impossible choices he’d been forced to make. But he hadn’t realized just how much of it had been carried in silence, hidden beneath the mask Allen wore every day.
One evening, Ryan finally stepped out of the shadows and approached Allen. The boy was working late, his desk cluttered with papers and maps, his expression one of deep focus. He didn’t notice Ryan at first, too absorbed in his work.
"You’re pushing yourself too hard," Ryan said quietly, breaking the silence.
Allen looked up, startled but quickly composed. "There’s too much to do," he replied curtly, his tone dismissive. "Resting isn’t a luxury I can afford."
Ryan frowned, stepping closer. "You’ve just recovered. Overworking yourself now will only—"
"Will only remind me why I’m here," Allen interrupted, his voice sharp. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don’t have the luxury of forgetting, Ryan. Not now. Not ever."
Ryan’s gaze softened, and he hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The pendant," he said finally, his voice quieter. "You still wear it."
Allen stiffened, his hand instinctively going to his chest, where the pendant rested beneath his shirt. "It’s nothing," he said quickly, averting his gaze.
But Ryan stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "It’s not nothing," he said. "It’s never been nothing to you."
Allen’s lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the quiet sound of their breathing. Then, Allen looked away, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s the only thing that’s ever felt real."
Ryan’s chest tightened at the confession, the weight of it sinking deep into him. He wanted to say something, to reach out, to bridge the chasm between them that seemed to grow with every passing moment. But he didn’t know how.
"Then keep it," Ryan said finally, his voice steady but soft. "As long as it helps you remember what’s worth fighting for."
Allen didn’t respond, his fingers still curled protectively over the pendant. Ryan watched him for a moment longer before turning and leaving the room, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space.
And as the door closed behind him, Allen sat there, staring at the pendant beneath his shirt, the weight of Ryan’s words settling over him like a fragile thread of hope.
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And that was the hope I still held as I bleed under a tree in the middle of nowhere and alone. He's not here.. thank god.
His highness sent him away on a faraway land to run errands for him there. He won't know until much later. I hope his highness will take care of my body and funeral by then. But, what will he do when he comes back and finds out...? Will he went against the king...? Ryan...
By then when it's all done I hope Ryan only needs to say goodbye and finish the funeral. How will he look at me...? Will he even come...
Clutching tight on the pendant as I try to regulate my breath. But to no avail. I was stab directly to the heart, every breath I take keeps going into the void, it felt endless. Like I'm gasping water instead of air.
Ryan....
I'm loosing consciousness.
I'm about to...die?
It's too fast...
Ryan....
And just like that. I close my eyes.
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When Ryan returned to the castle, the air was heavy with a silence that set him on edge. The guards and servants avoided his gaze, their expressions veiled with a discomfort they didn’t dare voice. He knew something was wrong. The absence of a familiar presence—Allen’s presence—struck him immediately, a void that made his chest tighten with unspoken dread.
“Where is he?” Ryan demanded, his voice sharp and unyielding as he stopped a trembling servant in the hall.
The servant hesitated, his eyes flickering with panic. “Sir Allen…” he began, voice faltering, “he… he’s gone.”
The words didn’t register at first. “Gone?” Ryan repeated, his tone laced with disbelief.
The servant’s eyes lowered. “He was ambushed on his way back from the southern border. The King has already arranged for his… remains to be brought back. I’m sorry, my lord.”
Ryan’s world tilted. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the walls seemed to close in around him. He didn’t wait for the servant to elaborate—he couldn’t. Without a word, he turned and left, his steps echoing through the silent halls as he stormed toward the King’s chambers.
The Demon King was waiting, as though expecting him. His piercing gaze met Ryan’s stormy one without flinching.
“You knew,” Ryan accused, his voice cold but shaking with suppressed fury. “You knew this would happen.”
The King’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something—regret? Sympathy?—in his eyes. “Allen understood the risks. He made his choice.”
“Don’t give me that!” Ryan’s voice rose, raw with anguish. “You sent him to die, didn’t you? You knew he was vulnerable, and you used him as bait!”
“I honored his wishes,” the King said evenly, though his tone carried a weight that silenced Ryan’s outburst. “Allen made me promise one thing: that you would never know until it was too late. He didn’t want you to follow him. He wanted you to live.”
Ryan staggered back, the weight of the words crushing him. “Why… why didn’t he tell me?” he whispered, his voice breaking.
The King’s gaze softened, if only slightly. “Because he knew you’d try to save him. And that’s the one thing he couldn’t bear—to see you sacrifice yourself for him.”
Ryan’s fists clenched, his mind racing with memories of Allen—his quiet strength, his unwavering loyalty, the way he clung to that blue pendant like it was the only light in his world.
The pendant.
Without another word, Ryan turned and left, his heart pounding as he made his way to where Allen’s body was being prepared. When he saw him—pale, lifeless, yet somehow at peace—Ryan’s knees buckled.
The pendant still hung around Allen’s neck, glinting faintly in the dim light. Ryan reached out with trembling hands, his fingers brushing against the cold metal.
“You idiot,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “You always did everything alone. Always thought you had to bear it all by yourself.”
Tears blurred his vision as he clutched the pendant tightly, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his grief. “You didn’t have to fight alone, Allen. You never had to.”
For a long time, Ryan stayed there, silent and unmoving. And when the time came to say goodbye, he pressed the pendant to his lips, a vow forming in his heart.
“I’ll protect the hope you left behind,” he whispered. “Even if you’re not here to see it.”
And with that, Ryan rose, his grief tempered by a new resolve. Allen might have been gone, but his memory would remain—a guiding light in the darkness Ryan had always known.
───── The End ─────