Turning

The present Kishiar even in formal settings rarely preferred wearing gloves.

During the time when his vessel had been flawed, he couldn’t comfortably touch anything with his bare hands — so now that he was fine, it was no wonder he didn’t want to wear them.

Another thing that made Yuder realize the remnants of that period still lingered within Kishiar was when he sensed just how much Kishiar loved to touch Yuder with his bare hands whenever they made contact.

Whether in daily life, in the midst of their acts, or after everything ended, he touched Yuder very often.

So often it felt almost excessive — yet, when Yuder thought about it, Kishiar had never once touched him carelessly.

Kishiar’s touch was always cautious.

He would lightly tap with his fingertips first, and only after confirming there was no issue would the rest of his skin slowly press against Yuder’s.

Because of that distinctive way of touching, Yuder sometimes thought that even with his eyes closed, he could recognize Kishiar just by touch alone.

There were, of course, times when Yuder had found it ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) ridiculous — the way Kishiar handled him as though he were touching the finest glasswork over nothing more than skin.

But remembering the look in Kishiar’s eyes when he once mentioned how a beloved horse he had touched thoughtlessly as a child had died... Yuder could never bring himself to voice such complaints aloud.

The present Kishiar, who disliked wearing gloves.

And now, in front of him, the long-dead hand still wearing its gloves.

Was there really such a vast difference between the two?

In truth, the time Yuder and Kishiar had been entangled in each other’s lives wasn’t long.

Compared to that, they must have lived much longer, leading identical lives.

Could it really be possible that one had worn gloves to avoid touching a commoner, and the other had not?

Yuder now knew all too well that Kishiar la Orr was not the kind of person others claimed him to be.

He had never once used his status to oppress anyone.

He wasn’t the kind of man who thought only of copulation.

He was, if anything, a workaholic who sincerely enjoyed even grueling tasks that others might have found unbearable — someone who, rather than entangling their bodies, naturally found more joy in exchanging even a single word with Yuder.

The shock Yuder had felt when Kishiar asked if it wasn't obvious that talking with Yuder was far more enjoyable than merely joining bodies — he still remembered it vividly.

“......”

If he had only seen each thing individually, he might not have realized.

But now that he knew both sides, everything stood out so clearly.

Information and knowledge he hadn’t even guessed at before had become a foundation, and stacking memories and evidence upon it, a certain answer had begun to emerge.

No matter how much he wanted to deny it, even if he wished to turn his eyes away.

If after erasing everything else, only that answer remained—

In the end, he had no choice but to believe it.

The face of someone who had once told Yuder, without hesitation, that if only that remained, then he had no choice but to believe — it flashed across Yuder’s mind.

And that man had been a master of acting calm when necessary — a prodigy of deceit.

So much so that even Yuder, with all his accumulated experience, had been fooled before.

He thought he had known that perfectly well...

Yet the inside of his eyes burned as if on fire.

His heart beat so loudly and fast he thought his body might explode — but even then, everything felt distant.

He didn’t know how to release this immense pain roaring inside him.

He wanted to scream and demand answers, yet at the same time, he wanted to shut his mouth and flee to somewhere utterly deserted.

And in the end, he could do neither.

After returning to the past, he had changed many things.

He believed he had changed them, and thought he could continue to change more.

But the existence before him now was proving that the sins Yuder had committed, and all the truths he hadn’t known, could never be changed by such efforts.

Yuder opened his lips several times before finally managing to force out a voice.

“...You...”

It was at that moment.

Before he could even finish speaking, the other gloved hand reached toward him and spread its fingers.

It hovered near Yuder’s face for a moment, then, at a pace so slow it felt almost awkward, it brushed against his cheek.

It didn’t feel like a simple touch — there was a different intent behind the movement.

Lowering his gaze, Yuder saw something smear onto the gloved fingertips.

In the darkness, it was hard to tell exactly what it was, but even so, he could tell it was a liquid.

With an unfamiliar feeling, Yuder moved his own hand and touched the same spot on his cheek.

The same thing stained his fingers — a hot, colorless, viscous liquid.

“......”

What... was this?

As the thought rose, an absurd emotion followed.

People had always said that if there was anyone on earth utterly distant from tears, it was Yuder.

Even Yuder himself had believed so.

He had never understood why others cried.

Even when he was tortured brutally for months awaiting execution, he never cried — earning the reputation of a monstrous creature.

Several of his torturers had reportedly fled in terror when, even after searing one of his eyes, Yuder hadn’t screamed but instead had stared at them unwaveringly.

Stories of that day had become a legendary tale passed down among the guards who rotated through his prison.

Even when his closest comrades died, even at Kishiar’s funeral, Yuder had never shown a trace of sorrow.

Snide remarks suggesting he might lack tear glands altogether were something he heard now and then.

And even after reincarnating, it was no different.

When some Cavalry members tried to joke around and thrust sliced onions under his nose, betting he would cry, he didn’t — and so his reputation continued unchallenged.

Still, thinking back, there had been perhaps one moment — a moment he hadn’t fully registered — when he wondered if this might be what it felt like.

That was the day he and Kishiar had first joined bodies in this life.

That day, Yuder hadn’t simply endured the expected pain and pleasure of the act — he had felt something so vast, so overwhelming, that he had gasped for breath.

That immense something he felt the moment he accepted Kishiar of his own free will.

Recalling how Kishiar too had trembled with unknown emotions, laughing with teary eyes as he buried his face in Yuder’s neck — it still left Yuder with strange feelings.

His heart had pounded and something hot had risen inside him, threatening to overflow unless he swallowed it down.

Perhaps that had been a moment when he could have cried — or maybe he had, without knowing.

But why now, of all times, here?

The overwhelming surge inside him now was just as unbearable — but the emotions’ color was the exact opposite of that bright, burning joy he had felt then.

Yuder lowered his hand, stained with tears, expressionless.

Even then, the tears continued to roll down his cheek, down his jaw, dripping endlessly.

If the many people who had asked whether he was even human saw him like this — what would they say?

Yuder thought there might be an immense ocean inside his chest, now raging with a storm.

Each time the violent waves crashed within, a pain beyond words squeezed his lungs and stripped away his ability to think.

Perhaps what now dripped down was but a small piece of the shattered waves.

As Yuder stood silently, a hand reached out again.

This time, it did not touch his cheek.

Instead, it tugged at the white glove still on Yuder’s hand, pulling it off.

In a movement too elegant for the situation, it slipped fingers under the leather and pulled, drawing it down.

Then it tugged at his sleeve.

“......”

Yuder stared for a moment at the taut sleeve, then moved his feet obediently.

Though the darkness was so deep no ground could be seen, somehow, if he followed the pull, he could walk.

He didn’t know how far he walked like that.

Soon, something entered his sight — something similar to the place he had once been pushed into before.

A vast rift.

It seemed infinitely distant yet close at the same time.

From somewhere, came a chilling sound and a writhing presence.

When they reached it, the hand that had been pulling Yuder finally stopped.

It laid a single finger atop Yuder’s palm.

'Look carefully.'

'At what truly matters.'