In the brief meeting of their eyes, indescribable emotions flickered and passed.
The way Yuder had played the game so far was a mirror image of Kishiar's own style. It was fundamentally different from mere perceptiveness or cunning.
Every move Yuder made, every piece he laid down without a moment's hesitation, even the choices he made when selecting his strategy—all resonated with how Kishiar would have acted.
Neither flinched when employing rarely-used self-destructive moves or deliberately flawed plays that seemed to forfeit victory. A shiver pierced through Kishiar as if he were facing another version of himself.
Could anyone truly mimic another's behavior in unpredictable situations—even small habits—to such an extent, even if they already knew the future?
No, this was something beyond human senses, beyond evidence. It was as if an old callus, formed over many years and perfectly melded to the body, had appeared.
Therefore, this was neither the result of insight nor foresight.
Things that couldn’t be comprehended by logic alone amalgamated, spreading across the hexagonal board like a universe encapsulated in a small array of tiles.
Kishiar recalled the numerous surreal feelings he'd had since meeting Yuder, and all the enigmatic remarks Yuder had made. The moments when he understood with his heart, not his head, what it meant to desire a future. Those desires, ambitions, and the connections that no one else could see.
Everything he couldn’t figure out, had set aside, or hadn’t known all mixed together in his thoughts.
Each thought had originally been like a frail, thin thread. But as they all came together to form a single conclusion, those fragile threads twisted into a robust, unbreakable tapestry.
Clutching the piece tightly, Kishiar summed it up in one sentence:
"The person who taught you this game was me, wasn't it?"
It was an extraordinary conclusion.
Yet, if the result stood before one's eyes, it was impossible not to believe. From the moment they had met, their world had contained no impossibilities.
Yuder put down his piece on the board in front of the waiting Kishiar.
Snap.
"Yes."
In that moment, the gaps between Yuder's white tiles perfectly closed, completing a beautiful formation.
It was a regular tile that normally couldn't move in that direction. However, beneath the tile Yuder placed, a symbol glowed, indicating a special tile.
It was the 'Formation of Wings,' the strategy Kishiar had first learned and preferred in tactical games.
Originally, the formation involved an arduous and complex task: advancing pieces that should retreat and retreating pieces that should advance. Only then did it radiate its true potential—a tactical formation that enveloped the opponent without them realizing, reversed the colors both inside and out, and struck like a blazing fire, symbolizing a miraculous victory.
For a long time, both Kishiar and Yuder couldn’t take their eyes off the completed formation.
"Actually, this is the first time I’ve successfully completed this formation since learning it," Yuder quietly spoke.
"You like the Formation of Wings, don’t you?"
"…I do."
Though he had never admitted this to anyone, Kishiar's voice dropped to an almost inaudible murmur. Yuder averted his eyes from Kishiar’s trembling crimson pupils.
Through the small world of a tactical game, Kishiar had come to fully grasp the secrets of Yuder.
It was not a simple vision or information existing in the current timeline that haunted Kishiar's dreams, but a different future that had already transpired yet would never come.
The reasons behind all the actions Yuder had taken thus far alone.
And even where the enigmatic way Yuder presented evidence had originated from.
The answer was simple, but believing it was not. And even if one did believe, how to perceive it was uncertain.
Yet, the man before him...
Kishiar looked at Yuder with a sorrowful, but not angry, gaze. The slightest flicker in those consistently calm eyes shook Yuder's heart without a sound.
He truly believed everything Yuder had shown him, and it seemed he had easily guessed why Yuder had finally decided to reveal it all.
Yuder saw him set down the piece he had been holding, outside of the board.
"I concede defeat."
With a heavy voice, the second game ended in Kishiar's forfeit. Yet neither touched the formation completed on the board.
"In the dream, I was you, but not you," Kishiar's voice softly echoed out of nowhere.
Yuder immediately realized this must be more detail about his own death, vaguely dreamt by Kishiar.
"When the dream kept recurring, when the darkness gradually lightened, and after seeing the reflections in the eyes of those leading the way, I finally knew who it was."
Even then, when he didn't want to be sure.
"All I could think of was stopping it if it were to happen later. But what scared me more was..."
Kishiar hesitated for a moment, then met Yuder's eyes.
"The irrational speculation that it might have already happened to you, and you came to me after everything had ended without my knowledge. If all has already occurred, and my hands now can do nothing, how could I possibly save you? That thought alone filled my head so much..."
His choked voice briefly stopped, then continued with a bitter smile.
"...I hadn’t felt this powerless since I first arrived in Peletta."
A young Kishiar mentioned by the mage Hellem popped into Yuder’s mind. Even just a fragment of a story heard directly from Kishiar's lips provided a suffocating sensation.
"You didn't seem to show it," Yuder finally said.
"I was confident I could hide it. Although it seems that's not working too well these days," Kishiar responded, joking but without humor.
Yuder kept silent for a while before asking dryly, "So, how do you feel now that you've finally found the answer?"
"I was just thinking that the old saying about truth losing its taste the closer you get to it isn't wrong."
"Truth be told, I came here prepared for you to expel me in anger, citing deceit."
"I thought I knew all of my own habits, yet it appears I still don't know myself that well," Kishiar said with a faint smile.
"Exercising caution with unbelievable answers isn't deceit; it's a virtue. Wasn't it me who said I wanted to find the answer to the secret you hold?"
"..."
"Of course, I’m angry and it’s incredibly painful, but that emotion isn’t directed at you. How could it be?"
When he spoke those words, his eyes were colder and more distant than ever before. Yet that gaze vanished in an instant, leaving only a look of desperate yearning directed at Yuder.
"There's only one answer I wish to convey to you. A gratitude for enduring all the moments leading to this answer, for standing in front of me, alive and breathing."
Gratitude.
"And… if you would allow me, the powerless desire of a man in love to hold you, as you are now."
And desire.
Every word that flowed from Kishiar's lips felt as if it were on fire, searing and painful. If words had temperature, Yuder would have been reduced to ashes by now.
"May I go there now?"
Yuder closed his eyes and then opened them, answering not with words, but by pushing the chair away from him first.
The moment Yuder tightly yet gently hugged Kishiar's neck, a flood of indescribable emotions washed over him—fears and dark worries that he'd carried this far, and all the unfamiliar, desperate trembles that he'd thought had corroded away in the past.
If this was love, Yuder most certainly loved Kishiar.
Neither could say anything more.
They simply held each other, inhaling deeply as if they were one.
"Since I've won again, may I make another request?"
Some time later, Yuder asked for one thing while nestled in Kishiar's arms. Regardless of winning or losing, Kishiar would have probably granted any request, but Yuder insisted on stating a reason anyway.
"Go on."
"Please return those useless forbidden texts. The answer lies with me, not within those books."
"...Nathan told you, didn't he?"
"He told me in order to keep me on my guard. It's a brilliant decision befitting him. Don't say anything."
Kishiar's lips twisted in a bitter smile.
"It's not just the forbidden texts. There are also diaries and records from the First Empresses and palace women from the First Emperor's time. Rare documents you won't find unless you're searching the palace archives."
"I wasn't aware of that. Still, please return the forbidden texts. No matter how much we read about forbidden magic that artificially preserves the flayed, it'll be useless."
"I understand."
Kishiar, who had agreed to do so, looked down at the board he'd left mid-game.
"It's a shame we'll never see this again once it's put away."
Yuder interpreted the melancholy in those words a little differently.
"Don't worry, this won't end with just two games. A third match can be requested at any time."
"That's not what I meant, but...actually, upon consideration, perhaps taking our time to start a new game might provide a better opportunity for conversation."
The man who had been contemplating turned the board once again.
"Very well. Let's restart the game. But this time, for every fallen piece, you have to answer one of my questions. What do you say?"
"Sounds good."
Yuder had no intention of ending the conversation at this point either. If the game could facilitate the dialogue, then that was even better.
"Since I lost the last round, shall I go first again?"
"Well, either side can go first, but… If we're to play the game, shouldn't you let me move to the opposite side? You'll have to let go of me, won't you?"
To restart the game, they would have to return to their original positions. Yet the man who had Yuder sitting on his lap showed no sign of letting go.
"Wouldn't it be fine to keep this posture, as long as we're not applying any special rules?"
"How could it be fine? It's uncomfortable to make moves from this distance."
"You can just rotate the board."
"If you insist…"
Though it was somewhat baffling, in the end, the two of them ended up in the ludicrous act of sitting together and playing a tactical game.
In the brief meeting of their eyes, indescribable emotions flickered and passed.
The way Yuder had played the game so far was a mirror image of Kishiar's own style. It was fundamentally different from mere perceptiveness or cunning.
Every move Yuder made, every piece he laid down without a moment's hesitation, even the choices he made when selecting his strategy—all resonated with how Kishiar would have acted.
Neither flinched when employing rarely-used self-destructive moves or deliberately flawed plays that seemed to forfeit victory. A shiver pierced through Kishiar as if he were facing another version of himself.
Could anyone truly mimic another's behavior in unpredictable situations—even small habits—to such an extent, even if they already knew the future?
No, this was something beyond human senses, beyond evidence. It was as if an old callus, formed over many years and perfectly melded to the body, had appeared.
Therefore, this was neither the result of insight nor foresight.
Things that couldn’t be comprehended by logic alone amalgamated, spreading across the hexagonal board like a universe encapsulated in a small array of tiles.
Kishiar recalled the numerous surreal feelings he'd had since meeting Yuder, and all the enigmatic remarks Yuder had made. The moments when he understood with his heart, not his head, what it meant to desire a future. Those desires, ambitions, and the connections that no one else could see.
Everything he couldn’t figure out, had set aside, or hadn’t known all mixed together in his thoughts.
Each thought had originally been like a frail, thin thread. But as they all came together to form a single conclusion, those fragile threads twisted into a robust, unbreakable tapestry.
Clutching the piece tightly, Kishiar summed it up in one sentence:
"The person who taught you this game was me, wasn't it?"
It was an extraordinary conclusion.
Yet, if the result stood before one's eyes, it was impossible not to believe. From the moment they had met, their world had contained no impossibilities.
Yuder put down his piece on the board in front of the waiting Kishiar.
Snap.
"Yes."
In that moment, the gaps between Yuder's white tiles perfectly closed, completing a beautiful formation.
It was a regular tile that normally couldn't move in that direction. However, beneath the tile Yuder placed, a symbol glowed, indicating a special tile.
It was the 'Formation of Wings,' the strategy Kishiar had first learned and preferred in tactical games.
Originally, the formation involved an arduous and complex task: advancing pieces that should retreat and retreating pieces that should advance. Only then did it radiate its true potential—a tactical formation that enveloped the opponent without them realizing, reversed the colors both inside and out, and struck like a blazing fire, symbolizing a miraculous victory.
For a long time, both Kishiar and Yuder couldn’t take their eyes off the completed formation.
"Actually, this is the first time I’ve successfully completed this formation since learning it," Yuder quietly spoke.
"You like the Formation of Wings, don’t you?"
"…I do."
Though he had never admitted this to anyone, Kishiar's voice dropped to an almost inaudible murmur. Yuder averted his eyes from Kishiar’s trembling crimson pupils.
Through the small world of a tactical game, Kishiar had come to fully grasp the secrets of Yuder.
It was not a simple vision or information existing in the current timeline that haunted Kishiar's dreams, but a different future that had already transpired yet would never come.
The reasons behind all the actions Yuder had taken thus far alone.
And even where the enigmatic way Yuder presented evidence had originated from.
The answer was simple, but believing it was not. And even if one did believe, how to perceive it was uncertain.
Yet, the man before him...
Kishiar looked at Yuder with a sorrowful, but not angry, gaze. The slightest flicker in those consistently calm eyes shook Yuder's heart without a sound.
He truly believed everything Yuder had shown him, and it seemed he had easily guessed why Yuder had finally decided to reveal it all.
Yuder saw him set down the piece he had been holding, outside of the board.
"I concede defeat."
With a heavy voice, the second game ended in Kishiar's forfeit. Yet neither touched the formation completed on the board.
"In the dream, I was you, but not you," Kishiar's voice softly echoed out of nowhere.
Yuder immediately realized this must be more detail about his own death, vaguely dreamt by Kishiar.
"When the dream kept recurring, when the darkness gradually lightened, and after seeing the reflections in the eyes of those leading the way, I finally knew who it was."
Even then, when he didn't want to be sure.
"All I could think of was stopping it if it were to happen later. But what scared me more was..."
Kishiar hesitated for a moment, then met Yuder's eyes.
"The irrational speculation that it might have already happened to you, and you came to me after everything had ended without my knowledge. If all has already occurred, and my hands now can do nothing, how could I possibly save you? That thought alone filled my head so much..."
His choked voice briefly stopped, then continued with a bitter smile.
"...I hadn’t felt this powerless since I first arrived in Peletta."
A young Kishiar mentioned by the mage Hellem popped into Yuder’s mind. Even just a fragment of a story heard directly from Kishiar's lips provided a suffocating sensation.
"You didn't seem to show it," Yuder finally said.
"I was confident I could hide it. Although it seems that's not working too well these days," Kishiar responded, joking but without humor.
Yuder kept silent for a while before asking dryly, "So, how do you feel now that you've finally found the answer?"
"I was just thinking that the old saying about truth losing its taste the closer you get to it isn't wrong."
"Truth be told, I came here prepared for you to expel me in anger, citing deceit."
"I thought I knew all of my own habits, yet it appears I still don't know myself that well," Kishiar said with a faint smile.
"Exercising caution with unbelievable answers isn't deceit; it's a virtue. Wasn't it me who said I wanted to find the answer to the secret you hold?"
"..."
"Of course, I’m angry and it’s incredibly painful, but that emotion isn’t directed at you. How could it be?"
When he spoke those words, his eyes were colder and more distant than ever before. Yet that gaze vanished in an instant, leaving only a look of desperate yearning directed at Yuder.
"There's only one answer I wish to convey to you. A gratitude for enduring all the moments leading to this answer, for standing in front of me, alive and breathing."
Gratitude.
"And… if you would allow me, the powerless desire of a man in love to hold you, as you are now."
And desire.
Every word that flowed from Kishiar's lips felt as if it were on fire, searing and painful. If words had temperature, Yuder would have been reduced to ashes by now.
"May I go there now?"
Yuder closed his eyes and then opened them, answering not with words, but by pushing the chair away from him first.
The moment Yuder tightly yet gently hugged Kishiar's neck, a flood of indescribable emotions washed over him—fears and dark worries that he'd carried this far, and all the unfamiliar, desperate trembles that he'd thought had corroded away in the past.
If this was love, Yuder most certainly loved Kishiar.
Neither could say anything more.
They simply held each other, inhaling deeply as if they were one.
"Since I've won again, may I make another request?"
Some time later, Yuder asked for one thing while nestled in Kishiar's arms. Regardless of winning or losing, Kishiar would have probably granted any request, but Yuder insisted on stating a reason anyway.
"Go on."
"Please return those useless forbidden texts. The answer lies with me, not within those books."
"...Nathan told you, didn't he?"
"He told me in order to keep me on my guard. It's a brilliant decision befitting him. Don't say anything."
Kishiar's lips twisted in a bitter smile.
"It's not just the forbidden texts. There are also diaries and records from the First Empresses and palace women from the First Emperor's time. Rare documents you won't find unless you're searching the palace archives."
"I wasn't aware of that. Still, please return the forbidden texts. No matter how much we read about forbidden magic that artificially preserves the flayed, it'll be useless."
"I understand."
Kishiar, who had agreed to do so, looked down at the board he'd left mid-game.
"It's a shame we'll never see this again once it's put away."
Yuder interpreted the melancholy in those words a little differently.
"Don't worry, this won't end with just two games. A third match can be requested at any time."
"That's not what I meant, but...actually, upon consideration, perhaps taking our time to start a new game might provide a better opportunity for conversation."
The man who had been contemplating turned the board once again.
"Very well. Let's restart the game. But this time, for every fallen piece, you have to answer one of my questions. What do you say?"
"Sounds good."
Yuder had no intention of ending the conversation at this point either. If the game could facilitate the dialogue, then that was even better.
"Since I lost the last round, shall I go first again?"
"Well, either side can go first, but… If we're to play the game, shouldn't you let me move to the opposite side? You'll have to let go of me, won't you?"
To restart the game, they would have to return to their original positions. Yet the man who had Yuder sitting on his lap showed no sign of letting go.
"Wouldn't it be fine to keep this posture, as long as we're not applying any special rules?"
"How could it be fine? It's uncomfortable to make moves from this distance."
"You can just rotate the board."
"If you insist…"
Though it was somewhat baffling, in the end, the two of them ended up in the ludicrous act of sitting together and playing a tactical game.
