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After that masked man entered his life, Barok had hoped the bond they formed would heal their wounds, allowing them to overcome their troubles together and build a brighter future for themselves.
He had been such a fool.
Yet, even after learning about Kazuma’s true identity and the crimes that stained the van Zieks name, Barok couldn’t help but think of the happier days they shared before the truth came to light. The sweet, often unspoken affection that existed between them; the hesitant touches that became more confident with each response; the intimacy that grew slowly as they spent more and more time in each other’s company.
Even after everything that happened, Barok still had feelings for Kazuma—a source of constant guilt and shame for him. He didn’t want to be in love with that man… There would be nothing but pain for both of them in the future if he allowed those feelings to persist. But he did. That once sweet feeling now bitter and painful, but still strong in his heart.
They no longer shared a home, which was for the better. Still, he met Kazuma every day in his office, and the tense silence between them gave Barok no choice but to accept that there was no trace of warmth left between them. Kazuma tried to hide it, but the resentment was clear in his eyes and voice, and Barok knew that, if he dared to close the distance between them, Kazuma would recoil from his touch.
They were trapped in a cycle of hurt, which Barok had started. The right thing to do would be to end it himself, but he was a coward—still clinging to life when everyone he loved either was gone or would be better far from him and his poisonous influence.
But he couldn’t even refuse when Kazuma asked to continue his apprenticeship. Despite knowing such a thing would only be hurtful to both of them, Barok agreed, chained by his duty to watch over the son of the friend he betrayed, and guide him in that patch he chose. That was what he told himself, while also aware of the deeper, much less selfless reason that actually pushed him toward that choice.
He reaped the consequences of that decision every day when he looked at Kazuma’s face. Sometimes, it carried grief; others, fury. But neither of those hurt Barok as much as the nothingness he found in it, more and more often with each passing day. He had once watched that man change from a hollow specter into a bright, kind person Barok cherished above all else. And now, he watched as all those changes came undone right before him, like watching life pour out of an open wound that refused to heal. And how could it, when Kazuma had no choice but to look at the man who had ruined his life, and who kept pretending nothing was wrong with that accursed deal they made?
Guilt weighed bitterly inside him as he observed Kazuma’s back from his chair. Was he sleeping at night, at the very least? Was he taking care of himself as he once did for Barok? Had he allowed himself to cry and properly mourn for his father, or was he burying those feelings deep inside in order to push himself forward?
He couldn’t tell… He had no idea what was going through that man’s mind. During the first days they spent in that office after his trial, Barok waited for Kazuma to raise his blade against him and bring his hunt for revenge to a proper end. He wouldn’t have blamed him for it—if it would bring peace to Kazuma’s soul, Barok would offer his own without hesitation.
But there was no act of violence, no open accusations, nothing. Just that miserable imitation of the warmer days they shared in that office. Barok wondered why Kazuma chose that life instead of returning to his homeland with those he loved. Was it guilt for lying to his family and closest friend, or a need to prove himself better than the man who betrayed him and his father? Or was it affection that still bound him to Barok, even after everything that happened between them? An ember of those feelings they shared still persisting in his chest, like the one Barok carried inside him.
That possibility was the one that frightened him the most.
He couldn’t focus on his work. The sight of him, the silence between them… All of it tore open his own wounds as well; and so, they continued to quietly bleed out in each other’s presence, unable to bring that horrible situation to an end.
“Asogi,” he called.
Kazuma glanced over his shoulder, then stood, approaching his desk without meeting his gaze.
“Yes, Prosecutor van Zieks?”
Looking at him from that close distance only confirmed what Barok already knew: the dark circles around his eyes and lack of color on his skin gave him an almost sickly appearance. He tried to keep that strong facade, but the cracks were quickly spreading and deepening—something familiar enough for Barok to fear what would happen when he finally shattered.
So, he did the only thing he could as his mentor, responding in a serious voice. “You should leave early today.”
Kazuma stared at him, taken aback. “Why?”
“I believe you need some rest.”
Barok hoped that would be enough to convince him. But Kazuma didn’t move, his eyes still on Barok.
“Did I make a mistake?” he asked.
“No. But it is a possibility if your mind is exhausted and not fully present.”
“You should know I don’t allow personal matters to interfere with my work.”
The edge in his words made Barok proceed in a lower voice. “That is not the problem.”
Kazuma slammed his hand on the top of his desk. “What is it, then?”
Barok glanced at Kazuma’s hand. “This, precisely. You are at your limit and still pushing yourself. You should take a few days to clear your mind.”
“Clear my mind?” He repeated in disbelief. “I’ve made no mistakes. Not a single one. From the moment I first stepped into this office, I did everything to the best of my abilities, and now you want to punish me for something that never happened?”
Punishment was the farthest thing from Barok’s mind. But, if Kazuma’s wellness wasn’t a good enough reason for him, then…
“You are my apprentice. If your work is unsatisfactory, it will reflect badly on me.”
Kazuma didn’t answer for a long while, something darkening in his expression before he spoke again. “This is just an excuse, isn’t it? You just want me gone from here.”
“I never said—”
“Then say it, already! Stop this whole charade and say what you mean to my face. Or can’t you do even this much for me?”
Barok would have done anything for him, but not that. Admitting that he cared too much for Kazuma to simply watch him silently waste away would also be a reminder of that brief but sweet relationship they once shared. And neither of them was prepared to touch that subject—he doubted they would ever be.
“You must understand,” he said, instead, “when I look at your face, I see the man for whose death I am to blame.”
Kazuma stepped away, shaking his head. “So, this is the problem.” He let out a low, frustrated laugh. “Me. My existence as his son. Is that it?”
“I didn’t say—”
“That’s right, you didn’t! Because you never say anything. You expect me to understand things and do something about it, but you never try to fix things yourself.”
Barok knew it was true, and that was why it stung so much. From the beginning, his apprentice had been the one trying to reach him every time, while Barok pushed him away. Even at that moment, with all the anger and resentment between them, Kazuma was the one trying to get an honest answer out of him, while Barok recoiled, hiding behind gentler lies.
“I don’t expect you to fix anything,” he said.
“What exactly do you want from me, then? That I wear that mask again and never speak a word, so you can forget about who I truly am? Would that make you happy?”
“Of course it wouldn’t.”
“Then, what do you want?”
Barok lowered his eyes. “I simply cannot look at you at this moment.”
“If my presence displeases you so much, then why did you take me in again? Just so you can feel better about—”
Kazuma interrupted himself with a sharp breath, yet his unspoken words lingered between them. Barok should have allowed it to end there, but something cold uncurled inside his chest, spreading in a way he couldn’t possibly hold back. He stared back at Kazuma.
“What if that is precisely it?” he responded. “What if I am doing this for him and not you?”
This time, Kazuma was the one to look away. “He is gone.”
“He was my friend. And you… I no longer know anything about you. This person before me is someone I cannot hope to ever understand.”
Those thoughts he tried so hard to suffocate finally found their way out. He expected Kazuma to yell back—almost hoped for it, for him to scream all his pain and anger to his face, just so Barok could do the same and let those virulent thoughts out of him.
Instead, he looked quietly at Barok, all his fire and sharpness erased by those words. That heavy silence cleared Barok’s mind, enough for the weight of his own words to fall upon him. Immediately, he wished he could take them back.
“Asogi…”
But now that all venom had been spilled, he found no words to repair what had been broken. Kazuma looked to the side, silent for a long while as well.
“You’re right…” Kazuma finally muttered.
Without another word, he stepped away from Barok and toward the door, taking his cloak and placing it over his shoulders. He opened the door, hesitating.
“I apologize for…”
He struggled with the words for a moment, then shook his head, leaving the office. Barok watched as the door closed behind him; then, taken by an impulse, he rushed to the door, grabbing the handle. But he couldn’t open it… Even if he followed Kazuma, what would he even say? Apologize, as he kept doing for every unforgivable mistake he made?
He turned around, leaning his back against the door. Those weren’t the words he had wanted to say… It was how he felt, but not in that aggressive, accusatory way. He never once blamed Kazuma for it, but…
It was like grieving for a living person. The person he forged that bond with during those three months they lived together—the happiest ones he had lived since Klint’s passing. The person who gently cared for him, making the thorny loneliness wilt away. The person who brightened his days and made him feel, for the first time in a decade, that living could be more than just pain. The person who, no matter how many times Barok pushed away, continued to reach for him, breaking through all those barriers he had raised around his heart.
He still loved that man, who had so tenderly loved him back. Loved him more than life itself, so deeply and desperately he couldn’t stand the thought of him being gone.
Kazuma was that man, but they were not the same. Something darker had returned with his memories, which Barok couldn’t recognize. And it terrified him—looking at the one he loved and seeing a stranger terrified him, like a merciless grip around his chest, tightening to the point he couldn’t breathe.
And still, he loved Kazuma. Resented him for taking the person he treasured away, while also adoring and yearning for him with his entire being. Those feelings were senseless, and yet, they flooded his chest and mind until he no longer could understand himself.
Guilt wrapped around his heart, crushing it. Kazuma’s expression wouldn’t leave his mind. Neither grief nor anger, but a mixture of shock and heartbreak that Barok had never seen in his face before.
And he was the one who caused it. Once again, he was the one hurting that man. Now he could see how Kazuma had tried to reach for him one last time… Barok was the one who feared closing that distance and shoved Kazuma away from him without even trying to meet him halfway. Because he still couldn’t accept the person he truly was—he still expected to look at him and find the same unwavering loyalty and love he had once seen there.
The thoughts kept coming, convulsing and overflowing inside him. Everywhere he looked in that office, there were traces of Kazuma in it. He couldn’t do it… He couldn’t stay in that place a minute longer.
Barok gritted his teeth, then opened the door, leaving the office with hasty steps. He took a carriage back to his mansion, then went straight to the glasses cabinet, filling one to the brim with wine and drinking its contents. As soon as he emptied it, he filled it again. And again. Until the bottle was empty, only to take a different one and restart the self-destructive cycle.
He wasn’t proud of that noxious habit, which had been consuming him since Klint’s death. No, not only Klint’s… His wife’s as well. And Genshin’s…
Genshin. He could have stopped it. If only he had trusted the man he called a friend. If he hadn’t so blindly trusted Klint. If he… If he had been there for Irene instead of drowning in his own sorrows, maybe she wouldn’t have had to die. Or at least she would have died with family by her side. And Iris… No, thank God they took Iris away from him. He would have hurt her as well… Failed her in every possible way until she, too, was incapable of smiling.
Like Kazuma.
He couldn’t stop seeing the expression on his face as he left. Barok could still remember the first genuine smile he saw on that man’s face, but the image was now distant, distorted by one of pure heartbreak. The kindest thing Barok could have done for him would be letting him go after that trial, but he couldn’t… He didn’t want to lose him. At least not him. Even if their bond was now irremediably tainted, Barok still clung desperately to it, sinking his teeth into him like a terrified, dying beast, even if it meant making Kazuma bleed out alongside him.
He had tried to look away from that terrible truth all that time, but he could no longer do it. Because it was so clear now… That sweet apprentice he loved was gone because Barok had killed him with his own hands.
He kept drinking chalice after chalice, but no relief came. Instead, the thoughts only became louder, the grip on his heart even worse than before. A pain like fire spread throughout his body, enclosing him in a suffocating cell. Every hasty breath hurt, every single beat about to tear his chest apart. He opened his mouth, a loud wail leaving it and filling the room. Tears rolled down his cheeks as the sobs and gasps kept escaping from his lips, his hand not enough to hold them back.
When had it been the last time he had cried like that? He had judged himself no longer capable of such a thing. Barok hoped it would at least ease the grip in his heart, but it didn’t. It didn’t stop…
He clenched his jaw, and a shattering sound close to him brought his mind back to reality. It took his inebriated mind a few seconds to understand what had happened: the chalice he was holding had broken, his hand still firmly closed around those glass shards. Barok opened his hand, bringing it closer to his face to examine it.
There was a large shard there, buried deeply in his hand, surrounded by many smaller fragments. He observed the wound as blood flowed from it. The sight made his stomach twist, but instead of removing those shards, he closed his hand again, clenching his fist.
The pain cleared his mind for a moment, but he knew the relief wouldn’t last. Drinking was the only thing that ever made it all go away, even if for a brief moment. But watching the blood run from that wound gave him a strange—entrancing—sense of satisfaction.
He deserved to feel that pain after all the sins he had committed.
Kazuma hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night. In fact, he hadn’t had much rest since the end of that trial, unable to silence the thoughts whenever he lay down to sleep.
He had hoped that the disquieting feeling in his heart would ease as time passed. Instead, it swelled like an infected wound, only getting worse as he tried to look away from it and keep performing his attempt at a normal life. So often, he felt this urge to say the worst things he could to Barok and hurt him deeply for no rational reason. Every time that urge won, however, it only made him feel worse than before.
He hadn’t meant to hurt Barok—never had. And, with his mind clearer, he could tell Barok hadn’t meant to hurt him with those words, either. Or at least he hoped so. That man was going through a hell of his own as well, and Kazuma’s presence surely wasn’t making things easier for him.
And, as painful as it was to admit, he was right in what he said: the person Barok once loved was that quiet, gentle apprentice with no trace of darkness in his heart. But Kazuma wasn’t like that at all. Ten years of anger and bitterness had corroded him from the inside, leaving almost nothing behind. He could barely remember how to be anything else but that hateful creature he had become.
Regardless of it all, he could still recognize fragments of those softer feelings in Barok’s words and gestures, as if they weren’t completely gone—just like his own, who refused to wither no matter how many times he tried to kill them. He still loved Barok, still longed for the company of that man who offered him kindness when he had nothing. No matter how heavy the resentment in his chest, if given the choice to throw himself into fire for his sake, Kazuma would still do it without a second thought.
Despite knowing this, that evil thing living inside him kept urging Kazuma to give in to the worst parts of himself. Every day, it was a violent fight against it—which he didn’t always win. But he was trying… He needed to believe he could be better than that. If he didn’t at least believe it, then… What would be the point of it all?
He washed his face, and the cold water helped push those thoughts away for the moment. He should apologize to Barok as soon as possible. And, if his mentor asked him to leave again, then…
The thought still made him restless, but he had made up his mind. He couldn’t keep ignoring those problems forever, and if Barok was too kind to voice them himself, then Kazuma should be the one to do it, for both of their sakes. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted. Even if it hurt.
It was a bittersweet thought that he had been happy once, sharing an office and a home with his serious but kind mentor. Against his rationality, part of him missed the simplicity of those days—following Barok like a shadow, quietly appreciating his company. If only he could go back…
Then what? Would he willingly give up on his memories just so he could stay beside that man for a while longer? Could he so easily let go of all the gunk and sharpness inside him in an attempt to grasp something brighter and softer?
The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh.
Every time Kazuma took a step closer, Barok turned his gaze away; every time Barok took a step in his direction, Kazuma flinched instinctively. They were trapped in that cycle of wanting a kind of proximity neither of them was ready to receive, and the result was they were both stuck in place, unable to move forward—or to give up on each other for good.
The more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed that things would ever sort themselves out between them. He would give it one final chance, and if it wasn’t enough, he would do whatever he needed to bring it to an end.
He couldn’t wait until the next day for it—if he tried, the uncertainty would devour him from the inside. He knew Barok didn’t want to see him, of course… Maybe he was the one being selfish, but he needed an answer. He couldn’t go through another sleepless night thinking about it.
It was the first hours of the evening, which meant Barok should have returned home, unless he had stayed late in the office, overworking himself to keep his mind full. Kazuma had never appreciated that habit of his, to push himself close to the breaking point, and quietly hoped he hadn’t started to do it again now that his nameless apprentice wasn’t there to stop him. Thinking about it brought a bitter taste to his mouth as he put on his cloak and boots, heading outside his small apartment.
Kazuma took a carriage to the van Zieks’ mansion—the place he had once called his home. He still had the key to the back door, which Barok had given him months before, when Kazuma still had no recollection of his past. He opened the door, walking inside.
The place was silent, and Kazuma wondered if Barok was still out. Should he wait for his return? No, he would take a look around and then leave.
“Lord van Zieks?” he called, without response. He crossed the door to the living room, glancing around. “Lord van Zieks, are you—”
His blood froze when he saw the scene before him. A man was lying on the couch, surrounded by empty bottles and covered in red.
“Lord van Zieks!”
Kazuma rushed to his side, heart pounding so violently it seemed about to burst out of his chest. Crouching down, he brought a hand to Barok’s face, lightly patting it to try to wake him up, then held his shoulders, shaking him. Nothing… His eyes followed that dark stain covering his sleeve. Wine… It was wine. He told himself this until he noticed the deep cut in Barok’s right hand.
“Wake up…” he said. “Lord van Zieks, wake…”
His voice cracked. What should he do? Heartbeat… Kazuma pressed his ear against Barok’s chest. A sound, soft but steady. He could finally breathe again.
The relief was so intense it took him a second to realize he still had an open wound to worry about. The first reaction was almost instinctive: he took off his scarf, quickly wrapping it around Barok’s hand, holding it high to stop the bleeding.
Kazuma’s mind struggled to work as he thought of what to do next, wasting long, precious seconds in an attempt to remember where the first aid kit was. He retrieved it, carefully unwrapping and examining Barok’s hand. There were still some small fragments of glass buried in his flesh, so Kazuma first removed them, one by one, with a pair of pliers. When there were none left, he cleaned those cuts; the biggest one covered his palm, spreading down to his wrist, and was deep enough to need stitches, which Kazuma carefully did, covering the wound with bandages when he was done.
You couldn’t get a wound like that by accident. Barok hadn’t even tried to cover it… How drunk was he? And why…
He knew why. Kazuma’s heart dropped as their argument from earlier that day returned to his mind. He gritted his teeth, then buried his face in Barok’s palm, stifling a sob.
“Was it my fault?” he asked.
There was no answer, but he didn’t need one. It was so clear… He had been the one to constantly remind Barok of his mistakes, even refusing him some space when he asked for it. Why was he so surprised by that outcome, after he so persistently pushed that man to his limits?
He stayed like that for a long while, holding Barok’s bandaged hand until he finally noticed a tiny movement. With his heart pounding painfully, Kazuma looked in Barok’s direction, his face twitching slightly before he slowly opened his eyes.
“Lord van Zieks?” Kazuma called. “Can you hear me?”
Barok looked at him, and for a moment, there was something close to joy on his pale face. But it didn’t last long, his expression darkening as he realized who that man next to him was.
“Asogi…” he muttered. “Why are you here?”
The bitterness in how he said his name stung, but Kazuma tried to ignore it for the moment.
“You don’t remember what happened?”
Barok shook his head, and Kazuma couldn’t tell if that brought him relief or not.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Slightly dazed…” He tried to sit, but Kazuma held him in place by the shoulders. “This is… not a dream, is it?”
“Unfortunately for you, it isn’t.”
Barok watched him quietly, still seeming out of it. The relief from seeing him awake soon mixed with a handful of clashing feelings, fighting to escape his mouth. Kazuma held them all back.
“Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll bring you some water.”
He left for the kitchen before Barok could answer. As he filled the glass, he took a moment to breathe, drying what was left of his tears. His heart still pounded against his ribs, to the point of leaving him light-headed.
Breathe in, breathe out. It wasn’t helping… With a frustrated sigh, he returned to the living room, finding Barok sitting on the couch, a hand covering his eyes. Kazuma approached him, placing the glass of water in his left hand.
“I told you not to move.”
Barok ignored his words. He absentmindedly abandoned the glass of water on the side table, glancing at the surrounding mess. “What happened?”
“I found you passed out on the couch, with an ugly cut on your hand.”
He lowered his gaze to his bandaged hand. “I see…”
His nonchalance was the push those thoughts needed to finally escape from Kazuma’s mouth. “You did this, didn’t you?”
Barok kept staring at his hand, as if in a daze. “I suppose I did…”
“Why? Why did you do it?”
But Barok didn’t answer for a long minute. Then, he turned his eyes toward Kazuma.
“Why are you here?” he repeated in a stiffer voice.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Kazuma. “Now, drink some water.”
Once again, Barok ignored his words, staring at him for a while before turning his gaze away. “I am fine now. You can leave.”
The suggestion was absurd. “I’m not leaving you in this state! Just tell me why you did something like this.”
“My temper overcame me for a moment.”
“Is that really all?” Kazuma glanced at those empty bottles. “How much did you drink?”
“Just a few glasses.”
Did he really think Kazuma couldn’t see the obvious? Barok wasn’t one to get drunk easily, and he still drank enough to pass out. Kazuma wanted to yell all of it at him, yank the answers out of him with his bare hands if needed. Instead, he took another deep breath, trying once again to calm himself.
“You won’t tell me anything, will you?” he muttered.
“I said everything is fine. It was nothing but an accident.”
“How is this fine? Can’t you see how much blood you—” Kazuma’s throat closed for a moment. “What if I hadn’t come? What if I had waited until tomorrow, and you kept bleeding here the entire night?”
“If it is as bad as you say, I would probably be dead before morning.”
The thought was enough to make Kazuma’s heart sink. “How can you say something like this…? Is this how little you care about your life?”
Barok didn’t respond. He raised his eyes to Kazuma, asking once again, “Why did you come here?”
Kazuma looked away. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I didn’t want to see your face tonight.”
His words stung, but Kazuma made an effort not to let it show how much. “If you want an apology, then you’ll be disappointed.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I said it doesn’t matter!”
“It does matter to me, Asogi,” Barok retorted. “This is my residence… Why are you here, after I told you I didn’t want to see you?”
The coldness in his words and glare weren’t new, but had never been aimed at Kazuma before. If that was a sign of what Barok truly felt for him, then Kazuma had been wrong: there was no trace of love for him left inside that man.
That was the answer he had been looking for… It should have been obvious from the start, but he had refused to see it. Because, unlike Barok, those feelings inside him hadn’t faded—cracked and torn, but still there, enduring despite all else.
“I came to say goodbye,” he said. “And I still plan to, after I take you to your bedroom.”
His words seemed to take Barok off guard. “Goodbye…?”
“I think we both know this was a terrible idea from the beginning,” he continued. “All we do is keep hurting each other, even if we don’t mean to. I should have done this before, but I kept postponing it, and now… Look at what happened.”
The image of Barok on the couch when he entered the room flashed again in his mind.
“I’ll fix this,” he added in a weaker voice, “and then… I’ll be gone from your life. I promise you, so… Please, never do something like this again.”
“Gone?” Barok repeated. “Where to?”
“I don’t know. Japan, I think. It’s the only place I have to go.”
“But you said…” Barok stopped talking, then added in a lower voice. “Will you be happier if you leave?”
He wouldn’t—maybe an imitation of happiness, that old mask he wore for ten years. But he couldn’t imagine himself having what he had while living with Barok again. Especially knowing that he was the one who ruined it.
He opened his mouth to answer, but the words stayed trapped inside. His vision blurred, and Kazuma covered his face with a hand. The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of that man, but… It was too much. He tried, but no longer could hold it all in.
He would regret it—for his entire life, he didn’t doubt it. But he couldn’t stay there any longer… Not if that was the price. As he tried to control his sobs, the sound of Barok standing from the couch caught his attention. Kazuma glanced in his direction, only to see Barok move closer and get on his knees before him, his hands on Kazuma’s hips, his face pressed against Kazuma’s stomach, clinging to him like a desperate man.
“Don’t leave…”
That muttered request made his insides twist. “What…?”
“I am not strong enough to pretend there is nothing wrong between us,” Barok admitted. “That I don’t feel this sickening desire to hold you in my arms as I once did. These repulsive thoughts are killing me… I can do nothing but drink until my inebriated mind cannot conjure your face anymore.”
His words stung. “Is this how deeply you despise me?”
“I would never despise you.” Barok tightened his grip. “But after everything I did… All the pain I caused, my feelings for you disgust me. I wish I felt nothing, but I cannot control my thoughts. I still want you… I want you close to me. Even if I don’t deserve this, I still… I still need you.”
Kazuma couldn’t find the words to respond—never had his mentor been so forward about those feelings. The alcohol’s fault, without a doubt… He looked away from Barok.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do… It is the only thing that still makes sense in my mind.” Barok looked up, seeking his gaze. “Kazuma… If you wished to take revenge on me, I wouldn’t stop you. Even if you chose to take my life, I would give it to you willingly. I’d do anything… Anything to mend my mistakes. But I know I can’t… No matter how much I regret my choices, they are already set in stone. So, do anything you wish to me… Anything that will ease your pain.”
The implications in his words were clear, and Kazuma hated them—but, even more than that, he hated how it was among those cruel words that Barok finally spoke his name. He had quietly longed to hear it, and now he wished he never did.
“Stand up,” said Kazuma. “I can’t do this… Just stand up.”
“If it comes from you… I shall accept any end you wish upon me. As long as you’re the one to—”
“Stop talking!” Kazuma inhaled sharply, trying to keep his voice steady. “Just… Just stand up. I’ll take you to your bedroom.”
“After everything I did, why must you still offer me forgiveness?”
“I never said I forgive you. I…” His voice threatened to crack. “Please, just stand up.”
“Stop pretending you care about my life!” Barok yelled. “You would feel much better if I died, wouldn’t you?”
Boiling bitterness filled his chest. Kazuma wanted to yell back, even raise his hand against that man, but stopped himself: it was that old dance, once again. He moved closer, Barok stepped away; Barok moved closer, Kazuma stepped away. It went on, and on, and on… It would never end until one of them either gave up or closed that distance for good, without waiting for the other’s consent.
So, instead of answering, he knelt before Barok, grabbing the front of his shirt, staring into his eyes as he muttered his response.
“You want me to hurt you, don’t you? To blame you for everything, and put an end to your suffering. But I’m not sacrificing my humanity to end your pain. I’m not giving you an easy way out of this!” He pulled Barok closer, pressing their foreheads against each other without breaking eye contact. “You’re living with what you did… You’ll learn to accept it, and you’ll keep on living. If you don’t, I’ll be following you to hell, and you’ll never find peace. Do you understand? You’re not escaping this life so easily… And if you try, you’d better know that you’ll be staining your hands with his child’s blood too.”
Barok stared at him, unblinking. Kazuma exhaled, finally letting go of him. For a long minute, neither of them spoke another word, never looking at each other’s faces. Unable to stand it any longer, Kazuma placed a hand on the floor to stand up, only to pull it right back with a pained hiss. Barok immediately grabbed his hand, bleeding from a glass cut.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
“It’s nothing… Just a small cut.”
But Barok was already reaching for the first aid kit, as he had always done whenever his nameless apprentice got injured—as if nothing else mattered at that moment. Kazuma let him do as he wanted, with the unsteady movements of a drunken man, but still careful not to hurt him.
“This is from the chalice I broke,” he said. “My apologies…”
“I said it’s nothing.”
Barok didn’t respond, focusing all of his attention on clumsily caring for that cut. Kazuma watched, and the gentleness of the gesture stung, but made him smile despite everything. He reached his free hand toward Barok, touching a curl of his hair.
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?”
Barok looked at him, surprised. Kazuma moved his hand away.
“I’m glad…” he added.
If Kazuma’s betrayal had changed his heart, he would never be able to forgive himself. And perhaps that was why Barok was in so much pain: not only for losing his beloved apprentice, but feeling like it had been his fault, at least in part. As he got lost in those thoughts, Barok leaned in his direction, and Kazuma almost flinched away before he felt his lips lightly touch his forehead.
“You may not have changed as much as I thought, either,” Barok murmured, lips still close to his skin.
That wasn’t true, and they both knew it. Yet, Kazuma couldn’t bring himself to deny those words, choosing to believe for just a moment that things could go back to how they were. He watched as Barok finished covering his wound, then stood up.
“Come.” He offered Barok a hand. “I’ll take you to your bedroom.”
Barok accepted the help, leaning on Kazuma as they slowly made their way upstairs and into his bedroom. Kazuma guided him to the bed, then left the room, returning with some water and a towel to clean the wine and blood stains from Barok’s body. He would need a proper bath first thing the next morning, but for the moment, that would do.
He helped his mentor undress, keeping his gaze away as he cleaned his body and helped him change into a clean shirt. Barok didn’t say a word, but Kazuma imagined he was disconcerted with the situation as well. When it was done, Kazuma filled a glass of water and offered it to him.
“Drink this. Slowly.”
This time, Barok obeyed, then lay on the bed. Kazuma adjusted the pillow under his head, pulling the covers over his body.
“You need to rest now,” he said. “We’ll talk properly tomorrow.”
Instead of answering, Barok reached in his direction, lightly holding his fingers. “Don’t go.”
Kazuma’s heart tightened. “This is a selfish request, my lord.”
“Don’t go…” Barok insisted in a low voice. “Please, don’t leave me. Don’t leave…”
Those words weren’t directed at him, but that version of him who no longer existed. He knew it, and yet…
“Alright…” Kazuma held Barok’s hand between his. “Alright, I’ll stay. I’ll stay, so… Just rest for now.”
Barok moved to the side, and Kazuma lay beside him, keeping a distance between their bodies while still holding Barok’s hand. No more moving away from him… Now, he only needed to see how Barok would react if he took a step closer the following day.
Barok woke up with a dull but constant pain in his head. He didn’t open his eyes immediately, waiting to see if it would cease on its own.
The feeling of someone moving next to him on the mattress was what brought back his memories from the previous night—slightly hazy, but still there, at least after the moment he woke up to Kazuma’s worried face.
Kazuma… Only then did he realize someone was holding his hand. He opened his eyes, and Kazuma was sitting on the bed by his side, awake as well. Barok observed him, still slightly disheveled from sleep—a sight he thought he would never witness again.
Part of him wanted to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep, just so he could enjoy that moment for a while longer. Instead, he called his name in a low voice.
“Asogi…”
Kazuma looked at him, slightly leaning in his direction. “How are you feeling?”
“Just a slight headache.”
“Not surprising, considering how much you drank yesterday.”
Barok didn’t respond. Truth was, he was ashamed of his behavior. It had been a long while since he last drank to the point of losing his rationality, which was something he never wanted Kazuma to witness. The coldness in how he persistently pushed his apprentice away didn’t lighten his guilt.
“Asogi, I…”
He couldn’t find the proper words to apologize—if there even was anything he could say to explain what had happened. Kazuma observed him for a while longer, then spoke in a low voice.
“Why did you do that?”
“It was just a bad habit resurfacing.”
Which wasn’t a lie, but not the entire truth either. Kazuma looked away, a shadow covering his face.
“Was it my fault?” he asked. “Is it because of what I—?”
“No,” Barok interrupted him. “As I said, this is an old habit. I thought I had finally overcome it, but it came back to haunt me yesterday.”
“It came back for a reason,” Kazuma insisted. “And this is what I want to know. Was it because of all those things I said to you?” A small pause. “And what I said about my father.”
Barok’s chest tightened: that wouldn’t be an easy conversation.
“We both know you were right,” he said. “I want to atone for what I did to him, but it isn’t all. I want to do what I can for your sake, even if you despise me for it.”
Kazuma hesitated, not meeting his gaze. “For my sake or his?”
“Yours.”
Barok lightly squeezed his hand, which made Kazuma look at their joined hands, surprised.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” said Barok. “This is fine.”
Kazuma still moved his hand away, to Barok’s disappointment.
“I know you don’t want this from me,” said Kazuma. “This version of me, at least.”
“It is still you.”
“You know that’s not true.”
His voice was slightly strained, and made Barok once again regret his cruel words from the previous day. For a long minute, neither of them spoke, thinking about what had been said.
“Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” said Barok, slowly sitting up. “I am the one at fault. I took him from you… Because of me, you never saw your father again. You couldn’t even say—”
“Stop saying this.” Kazuma interrupted him, a barely controlled sharpness in his voice. “I know what I’ve been through. I don’t want you to turn me into a poor, blameless child just to further your self-loathing. I tried to get you killed… Don’t you forget this. Don’t you try to turn me into a victim again.”
Barok nodded. “In this case, what am I supposed to do to make things better?”
“I don’t know.” Kazuma looked at him. “Lord van Zieks… I know I am the one who said I can’t forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I wish you harm. I hate seeing you suffer like this.”
“I understand.” Barok sighed. “But part of me wishes you would.”
“Is this how much you want to die?”
“My only wish is to undo my mistakes. But I know it is impossible, so the only way I could find to atone for my sins was to leave my destiny in your hands.”
“What makes you think I want such a burden?” Kazuma’s voice regained its edge. “I’m not your savior… I can’t absolve you from your sins or ease your guilt.”
“I know. I know… I apologize.”
“For what? For drinking until you lost your mind and asking me to kill you? Because if that’s it, I need more than an apology.”
“What do you need, then?”
“For you to promise me this won’t happen again.”
“It won’t.”
“You’re not just saying this, are you? Because…” He stopped, lowering his eyes, continuing in a softer voice. “No, that’s not what I want to say. Sorry, I’m making things harder again…”
“No. We are just talking.”
“Yes… I guess we are.” Seeming relieved, Kazuma looked him in the eye. “Tell me, and be honest. Will things be easier for you if I leave?”
“Would they be for you?”
“I am the one who made the choice to stay.” He paused. “But if I’m the reason why you’re like this… If my leaving will help you move on, then I’ll do it. I’ll leave this country, and you’ll never hear of me again.”
“Perhaps that would be better for us both,” Barok admitted. “But I am not selfless enough to ask you to go.”
“Because you still have feelings for me?”
“Nothing I said to you last night was a lie. And that includes how I feel about you. It is… hard to understand. Or accept.”
“This isn’t easy for me, either… You were important to me, too, and now I don’t know how I should feel. When I found you like that, I was…” He stopped talking, shutting his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to lose you… No matter how much I still resent you, I…”
His words trailed off. Something like an old instinct guided Barok’s body, moving his hand to lightly touch Kazuma’s face.
“I am not leaving,” he said. “If this is your wish, then I’ll keep on living.”
Kazuma nodded, forcing a nervous smile. “I’m sorry for asking such a cruel thing of you… But if you left me too, I don’t know if I could keep going.”
“I am not leaving. I swear to you, I won’t go anywhere without you.”
Kazuma stayed silent for a while, then brought his hand to Barok’s, holding it to his cheek—something that said more to Barok than any of their reluctant words could hope to express.
“Asogi…” he said. “I am the reason why you stopped smiling. It was the one thing I wished to protect above all else, and yet…” The words threatened to escape from his grasp, but Barok still fought to give them a proper form. “I know you deserve a happy life, and that this would be easier if you were far from me. But if you want me by your side, then… I will do anything in my power, anything for your sake. Anything so you won’t suffer like this again.”
Kazuma met his gaze. “Can you still trust me after what I did?”
“These are my words to you.”
He considered it for a moment. “I know you did what you thought was right. I want to try to forgive you, but it’s all so… It’s not easy.” He took a deep breath. “I know you wouldn’t willingly harm me. Like I did to you.”
“You couldn’t possibly have known the truth. You have all the reasons to hate me, and yet you still chose to place your trust in me again. I won’t betray this trust… I swear to you.”
“So do I,” said Kazuma. “I won’t betray you again.”
Those words lifted an unbearable weight from his chest. Before he could say anything else, however, Kazuma spoke again.
“Can you just answer one question?” He hesitated briefly. “Do you hate the person I have become?”
“I loved the person you were,” said Barok. “This Kazuma is different from him… But he is still the man I love. So much that the thought of losing him is…” It was terrible enough for him to be at a loss for words. He shook his head. “If I asked those horrible things of you while out of my mind, it was because any of it would be much more bearable than losing you.”
A small nod. “In that case…”
“Yes?”
“You called me Kazuma yesterday.”
His response surprised Barok. “Have I? My apologies… I cannot remember it clearly.”
“I didn’t ask for an apology,” said Kazuma. “I much prefer you call me by my name than my father’s. We don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”
Barok agreed: it was still too early for him not to connect that name to his old friend. So, instead, he called the one that belonged to the man before him and no one else.
“Kazuma.”
A faint smile took over Kazuma’s lips. Not yet the bright smile Barok loved so much, but still a pleasant sight—a reminder of how much joy and hope that expression brought him.
“I don’t need or expect your forgiveness,” said Barok. “But I hope you understand how much you matter to me.”
“I do.”
“And I mean this man right before me,” he added. “I may not understand everything about you yet, but I still hope I can, one day.”
Instead of answering, Kazuma brought Barok’s hand to his lips, lightly kissing his fingers. Barok touched his arm, placing his other hand on the back of Kazuma’s neck as he pulled him into a careful embrace. Kazuma tightened his arms around him, and Barok did the same, desperate for that warmth he had missed so much. They clung to each other as if their lives depended on it—if someone tore them apart, they would certainly bleed to death.
They had loved each other and hurt each other more deeply than humanly possible—yet, when it all came to an end, the only reason why they could still move forward, despite all their regrets and open wounds, was each other as well.