TBR CH79

B

The brass spoon handle swirled in the amber liquid. Tal simply pulled off the hood of his cloak, revealing his striking pupils. There was no longer any need to hide among the crowd. The demon blinked, whispering to Edwin, 

“They’re all looking over here.”

The man with light gray eyes lifted his gaze, neither lightly nor heavily. He made no effort to conceal the dangerous aura emanating from him. His black robe remained impeccably fastened, not a single drop of blood staining its hem. His eyes were like impenetrable mist, meeting the furtive glances of onlookers. The guests flinched, hastily lowering their heads, as if afraid of being cut by that gray gaze.

The “Double Mast” tavern regained its normal pace faster than a helmsman could steer a real ship. Corpses were cleared out, and the owner had long declared himself neutral, hosting guests of dubious identities in this chaotic zone, backed by forces strong enough to ensure his safety. Shaken patrons crawled out from under toppled tables, spilled wine and food were cleaned up, and like a wound swiftly healing, the “Double Mast” soon returned to its initial business state.

Except—Tal shifted uneasily in his chair, still not accustomed to being the center of attention. Edwin, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered, only addressing the issue when the demon brought it up, resolving it with crisp efficiency.

The situation swung to the other extreme. Everyone promptly lowered their heads, not daring to cast a single glance their way. The seating area around them emptied completely, like an isolated island.

“Uh… thanks?”

Tal idly spun the wine glass in his palm with his right thumb, hesitating before asking, “I mean, now both the Church and the Abyss Demon King know I’m here. Shouldn’t we leave quickly?”

Edwin raised his eyes, slightly surprised.

“Or do you think staying here is safe too?” the demon added. “I don’t get you.”

“You said ‘we.’”

“What? Oh—” Tal spun the glass again, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the liquid. “Whatever you’re thinking, we’re definitely tied together now. To those people, there’s no difference. If that’s what you’re worried about, yeah, you’re on my side. I’ve got to admit that much.”

The demon’s soft black hair fell unbound, and he turned his head to look at Edwin, no longer feigning readiness to flee but cautiously showing a hint of trust.

Edwin felt his fingers itch, tempted to touch Tal’s hair, to tie a strand of that raven silk with the most precious gems. But he suppressed the irreverent thought in the presence of his young god.

Edwin’s lips curved into a smile. His light gray pupils, unlit even by the tavern’s bright lamps, seemed to sparkle for Tal when he smiled. For a moment, Tal felt pity for the others—those guests too intimidated by Edwin’s presence to dare look at them.

What a shame they couldn’t see the gentle, indulgent smile before them.

“It’s up to you,” said the companion who, just hours ago, was merely a “dangerous stranger.” “Tal, where do you want to go? Anywhere is fine. I’ll go with you.”

The demon averted his eyes, unaccustomed to this. Tal had never met someone so peculiar. Edwin had appeared out of nowhere, like a genie from a fairy tale granting endless wishes—going anywhere, facing any enemy. It sounded like such a flimsy promise, yet he seemed capable of fulfilling it. Tal found himself hopelessly starting to believe in Edwin.

The worst part was when Edwin’s gaze softened upon reflecting him, enveloping him like layers of damp mist. Tal realized he was dodging that gaze, his face growing warm.

This was bad.

When he came to, Tal found they were already outside the tavern.

They’d passed a pile of corpses—or perhaps they weren’t dead yet, but no one cared. Those destroyed by Edwin left no trace in his eyes; he only looked at Tal.

“Where are we going?”

Tal stepped on a small pebble, now unsure if this was a good idea—following a stranger he’d only recently met to some unknown place. Edwin didn’t seem to belong here, not among them. He wasn’t with the Church or the demon realm; his aura didn’t lean toward either side.

“A quiet place,” Edwin said, stopping before a discreet, understated building with guards patrolling the entrance. 

Tal recognized it instantly: a safe house directly managed by the non-human mercenary guild. They operated on the principle that money could solve anything, housing a group of powerful outlaws with airtight security measures and confidentiality protocols. In most cases, it was enough. For someone like Tal, it could barely serve as a temporary hideout.

This was the paradise every fugitive dreamed of, the catch being that most couldn’t earn the wealth to step inside in a lifetime.

Clearly, Edwin wasn’t most people.

Tal stared at the gems in Edwin’s hand, his eyes nearly dazzled by their radiant glow. He hadn’t seen such priceless treasures since he’d started his escape.

The dwarf at the front desk excitedly puffed out his mustache, processing Edwin’s check-in at lightning speed. He tried to strike up a conversation but was deterred by Edwin’s cold gaze.

How was he so rich? Tal followed the man with light gray eyes inside, wondering how long one of those gems could fund his fugitive life.

Initially, he’d thought Edwin, having offended both sides, would be a natural accomplice on his escape. Now he wasn’t so sure. With such terrifying strength and wealth, this man was on a different level and didn’t need him.

Wait. Tal froze mid-step—check-in procedures?

“What’s wrong?”

Edwin had been deliberately slowing his pace to wait for the preoccupied Tal. He turned, casting a puzzled glance at the demon’s expression, as if everything was perfectly normal—including the fact that he’d just booked one room.

He wouldn’t sell himself for a few gems, would he?

The terrifying thought flickered for only a moment before Tal instinctively defended Edwin in his mind: He wouldn’t be like that. He just helped me escape from the holy knights and the demon king’s minions. He listens to me, he…

He’s a stranger, Tal. The terrifying part is that you’re already starting to trust him.

Another cold voice in his mind spoke: Do you know what’s waiting behind that door? Letting your guard down is disastrous in any situation. Even if he doesn’t want your life, there are countless ways to clip someone’s wings and claim them as your own.

Edwin has an unnatural desire for you—don’t you see it?

The demon’s red eyes dimmed slightly in the corridor’s faint light. He silently glanced behind him with his peripheral vision, as expected: his foolishness might have already led him to a point of no return. In this cramped, narrow space, he couldn’t escape the fate written for him.

A quiet place where no one would know what happened.

“Ah,” Edwin sighed with understanding, stepping closer. His light gray eyes gleamed with an eerie pressure in the dim light, like a viper approaching its prey.

He seemed to drop all pretense. At this moment, the dangerous, oppressive aura around him was starkly evident, each step shedding the mask of harmless warmth.

Tal backed away step by step until his back pressed against a door.

“You’ve misunderstood, Tal,” Edwin said.

Words like that were useless in this situation. Edwin’s gaze fell on him unreservedly, his light gray eyes nearly overflowing with unmistakable affection and possessiveness.

How had he caught the attention of someone like this? Tal felt his skin burn under that stare. Unable to bear it, he closed his eyes, only to open them again quickly.

No escape. The demon suddenly flashed a smile, his voice sweet as honey: “Like.”

This time, Edwin froze. The young demon’s lips curved, his raven hair pressed against the wall like a splash of ink, his slender eyelashes trembling like butterfly wings. His red eyes were as intoxicating as the finest wine. Deliberately acting weak and docile, he lowered his voice to the approaching man: “Don’t you like me? I like you too.”

He was completely intentional.

Too cunning, demon. This was his last chance. In the moment Edwin froze at his sudden confession, Tal rose to his toes, planning to leap away like a nimble beast. It was clearly effective—Edwin stopped all movement, stunned by the declaration. Tal braced his hands against the door behind him, needing only a push—

Oh no.

The door slid open the instant he touched it. His reflexes were faster than his thoughts, but still too slow. His balance tipped backward, and he fell into the room.

The world tilted. The snow-white ceiling reflected in his pupils. Tal thought wryly that falling so clumsily in this situation must look absurd.

But he didn’t crash onto the hard floor as he’d expected.

A pair of light gray eyes loomed before him. Edwin reacted almost instantly, grabbing him and steadying his waist. Edwin’s hand was slightly cool, Tal’s first sensation as the temperature seeped through his thin clothes. He was caught securely, but the problem was their unprecedented closeness—close enough that Tal could hear Edwin’s slightly uneven breathing if he closed his eyes.

A little closer, and they might kiss.

Tal shut his eyes briefly, then pushed Edwin away with resolve.

Strangely, Edwin didn’t resist at all. Tal easily broke free, standing straight before him. Before the demon could think further, the door clicked shut, sealing off the outside world to a mere sliver.

“This is our room,” Edwin began explaining in this bizarre situation. “The safe house has a unique system. Even the front desk doesn’t know the guests’ room numbers. Stand in front of an unoccupied room with the key, pick any one, and it opens automatically for the guest.”

Tal told himself he’d at least learned how the safe house worked, though knowing the rule was useless—it was this rule that had trapped him here. And he wouldn’t have the money to stay again in the foreseeable future—if he even had a foreseeable future.

The room was awful too.

Spacious and bright, filled with exquisite, expensive furnishings, fully equipped with all necessities—but with only one soft, large bed, as if hinting at something.

“Is it me you want?” Tal interrupted.

Edwin froze again, then chuckled softly. “Is that what you think? Perhaps…”

Since escape was now futile, Tal braced himself to face him. Standing rigid as stone, he barely noticed Edwin using formal speech.

Why had someone so troublesome and dangerous set their sights on him? Tal thought despairingly. And how had he, as if losing all sense, let down his basic guard until he was brought to this room?

Edwin could touch him with a mere stretch of his hand.

The bishop lowered his eyes, concealing the gentle smile in his light gray pupils and the occasional slyness in his character.

The young demon was slippery, like a sleek fox repeatedly escaping a hunter’s grasp. This Tal was too adorable, too real. Edwin allowed the demon’s misunderstanding to linger, but of course, it should remain within a harmless boundary—

“Please don’t worry. You are my god.”

Tal’s pupils contracted slightly. Stunned, he watched the powerful, cold-aura man bend his knee, half-kneeling before him, speaking in a low, gentle voice, “It’s my failure to have startled you. In the future, I am your most devout follower, so please don’t doubt my loyalty. I will never do anything against your will.”

*

It took Tal half an hour to piece together the rough situation from Edwin’s explanations. Even so, sprawled on the plush sofa in the luxury room, he still felt enveloped by a vast mystery.

A god and his follower? To him, that belonged to a distant, almost alien world. He was just a low-tier demon. No god in recorded history had such an origin. Surely no god had ever been so pathetic, constantly hunted by both sides, always ready to flee.

What kind of god was he? Tal wondered, lips curving. The god of wanderers, perhaps? The thought amused him.

During the questioning and answers, Tal more than once thought Edwin was mad. But he didn’t seem like a lunatic, and someone of his strength had no need to concoct a ruse to grovel before a low-tier demon.

Speaking of which—

“Edwin,” Tal crossed his arms, unable to resist asking, his face warming slightly, “Are you just my follower? I mean, did we ever…”

The question felt improper halfway through, so he silently swallowed the rest, pivoting to an irrelevant one, “How was I to you in that future you mentioned?”

The room had everything. Edwin leaned down to pick up a cup of freshly brewed hot tea. Hearing Tal’s question, he handed the cup to Tal first—the rim warm but not scalding, perfect for warming hands—then smiled.

“Of course, my god treated me well. No need to worry. You would praise my achievements, personally bestow upon me the highest crown, and, when necessary, grant me rewards.”

“What rewards?”

Tal didn’t know why he latched onto that word. Perhaps Edwin had deliberately paused on it. His voice was low and soft, pronouncing “rewards” like a devout follower cherishing a divine gift, yet there was an inexplicably subtle hint of ambiguity.

Tal wanted to chase that clue, but why was he even interested in this question?

As if his archbishop had set a trap, Edwin tilted his head to look at him. After the shift in mindset, Tal found him unexpectedly pleasing to the eye. The room’s bright light illuminated Edwin’s features with countless fine threads of glow, his light gray eyes gazing so intently, no longer making Tal wary.

This man before him loved him purely and gently. Being needed felt far better than the sweetest dreams.

It was a form of blind trust.

The warm, comfortable feeling lasted only seconds before Tal was startled.

The man reached out to adjust his meticulously fastened collar, which, to outsiders, screamed ascetic and cold. Yet, as he pressed his pale lips, he spoke naturally, as if unaware of the scandalous implication: “You’ve always rewarded me like this.”

As he spoke, he unfastened the top two buttons of his black robe. His eyes took on the damp mist of a cape, tinged with a faintly salty meaning. Tal had seen Edwin kill with those hands, but his pale, slender fingers moved deftly, unbuttoning with fluid grace. Wait, that wasn’t the point—

“Edwin, you…” Tal started, then switched pronouns, “I…”

Normally, Edwin was the one left speechless by the god’s antics. Tal loved speaking bluntly in all situations, his character laced with a touch of mischief and cunning, each prank melting Edwin’s heart until he didn’t know how to indulge him further.

But now, the young demon’s tongue tied from Edwin’s sly trap, even blushing slightly.

Too desirable.

Edwin couldn’t help curling his fingers. Tal was too perfect, too tempting to possess. How could a human keep a god? This impossible question was like a butterfly perched on his finger. The bishop, rarely playful, slowed his movements deliberately, feigning surprise as he looked at Tal, explaining, “I forgot—you don’t know yet. I’m a half-human, half-succubus. So, of course, that’s undoubtedly the best reward my god gives me.”

Succubus. That word sounded very wrong.

Yet the man before him seemed to have nothing to do with the seductive connotations of “succubus.” Every term opposite to “succubus” could apply to him—especially before he’d brought it up. Even now, his image hadn’t changed much, but it was as if he were deliberately enticing. Something in Edwin’s aura had shifted—not softer, but a neutralization of his lethal danger, turning it into something exquisitely enigmatic.

Tal finally found his voice: “Does the future me like you?”

Otherwise, it’d be too irresponsible. That was the unspoken second half of his thought.

As a demon wandering the continent, Tal had witnessed many loves—or the tragedies sparked by the lust veiled as love. He was long grown, but his parents’ tragedy left him with an innate distrust of emotions. Forming emotional or desire-based bonds with anyone was disastrous, especially for a rootless traveler like him, staying no longer than a week in any place.

Edwin’s affection for him was undisguised. But did Tal like him back in the same way? Was such a feeling even conceivable? Tal felt both confused and uneasy. Perhaps the future was better than he imagined, but he didn’t know how to believe in it.

His hand felt a touch. Edwin reached for him, lightly. The bishop lifted his eyes, his light gray gaze like soft mist. The suggestive undertone vanished, and the man who called himself his follower looked at him with focus and sincerity: “Like.”

“Tal, we love each other the way we’re loved.”

In an instant, his racing heartbeat seemed to calm. Tal stared, stunned, as Edwin shed the earlier playful tone and the rigid god-follower dynamic, swearing gently yet firmly as his future lover.

This was the truest him, Tal suddenly realized, and this unguarded openness was for him alone.

Like hard glass melting into water.

This man was all blades, yet Tal suddenly thought, if it was a lie, he wouldn’t mind. If it was an illusion, to feel chosen and protected without hesitation before death, to see love forged so purely and beautifully, was enough. He still knew little of what the future held, but he could guess why he’d come to love Edwin.

He needed him, desperately.

*

“I’ve been scared by you so many times—”

Tal whispered, occasionally sneaking glances at Edwin with a hint of coyness. The demon was indeed very young now, yet to experience what came later. When he let his guard down, Edwin could clearly see every emotion in his eyes.

He was different from the future god. Wary of everything, drifting through mountains and lakes, he was more like untamed wind, carrying the faint sweetness of mead. His body bore scars from attacks, his slender, beautiful fingers calloused—a wanderer’s proud proof.

“Sorry,” Edwin apologized again without hesitation, following his lead. “But I’m a bit confused. What suddenly made you want to run?”

“At first, it was because you were this unapproachable stranger. Not that I don’t like your type, just…” Tal blinked, a bit embarrassed. “Do you know how out of place you looked in that tavern? It felt like you walked in ready to kill. The scary part was you spotted me in the crowd instantly.”

Edwin paused, a trace of amusement in his light gray eyes. “That’s because you haven’t seen me the first time I entered a tavern—with the future you. I’d never been to a place like that before. I was the one frozen, not knowing where to go. Luckily, you seemed to have everything under control. You like mead, don’t you? That was my first time trying it.”

“Wow,” Tal’s eyes sparkled under the light, looking regretfully at the hot tea in his hand. “I do love it, but I only drink when I’m sure I’m safe.”

“Like…” Edwin said, “now?”

Like magic, a glass of golden liquid appeared in the bishop’s hand, exuding the sweet scent of wild honey. The glass was cool, water droplets glistening on its surface. Tal sat up straight, eyes wide with delight at Edwin’s hand. “Is that space magic?”

“Since you like it, I’ve always kept some ready.”

Edwin nodded, handing him the glass. Tal didn’t drink immediately, instead raising it to eye level, examining it closely. Through the amber liquid, his pupils gleamed like polished gems. After a cautious sip, the demon, ever the seasoned scholar, delivered his verdict: 

“I love it,” he said. “It’s one of the best meads I’ve ever tasted. But I haven’t had this flavor before. Which tavern is this from?”

“A tavern in the human capital, called ‘The Azure Word.’”

“I haven’t been to the capital yet.” Tal lowered his eyes thoughtfully. “Though I suppose I will. Since you’re with me in the future, well, it’s bound to happen.”

The demon spoke of the capital candidly. At this moment, the capital was the heart of the Holy Church, where the Saintess might already be devising her critical scheme to capture the demon. Fia’s bones had been crafted into a bottle, awaiting the turning of fate’s gears. The moment he set foot on that land, the worst would befall him—a thousand years in the mortal world, countless eons trapped in that bottle.

The young demon remained blissfully unaware.

Edwin didn’t tell Tal everything—not out of deliberate concealment, but because the demon, after hearing some details, propped his cheek and grinned at him, like a scholar deducing the result of an equation: 

“I’ll forget it all, won’t I? You said you were pulled into a temporal rift to get here, and the future me clearly has no memory of this. If I have to accept the future under these conditions, isn’t that a bit too cruel for me?”

He drawled, sounding casual, but the demon was undeniably clever. When Edwin had first taken a detour from work and suddenly found himself in a world a thousand years earlier, Adelaide had hurriedly sought him out. That’s why he understood the situation so clearly: the black dragon would return before midnight, and he’d hesitated about whether to let Tal know everything so soon.

But that wasn’t the reason.

At least not the most important one.

“Hey,” Tal lifted his eyes, looking at him with slight surprise, then laughed like a child who’d guessed which hand hid the candy. “You figured it out. Even if I could remember everything, I wouldn’t want to know the future too early. Wouldn’t that make it feel like a fixed destiny I’m forced to follow? But I love this world, especially its unknowns. If you want to tell me something, tell me about you, because the world has already brought you to me.”

His words were bright and vibrant, yet Edwin found himself momentarily speechless.

He couldn’t help but wonder: when Tal was sealed in that bottle, did he still hold such radiant love for the world? The demon said he didn’t believe in fate, until time scarred him, destroying all his hopes and dreams. If only Edwin could have found him sooner, shattered the bottle earlier, met him before.

The god’s eyes had once held only desolation and indifference.

Tal waved a hand in front of him, looking concerned. “Edwin, why do you look so… so sad? Is it the capital, or me?”

“Don’t go to the capital.”

Edwin realized the words were pure impulse, but it was too late to take them back. He forced a reassuring smile, struggling to keep his tone normal. “No, it’s nothing. I just thought of something unpleasant.”

Since Tal didn’t want his future decreed too soon, Edwin should pretend nothing terrible had happened. But since the past was unchangeable, his light gray eyes froze for a moment. A warm sensation spread across his cheeks as the little demon blinked at him playfully, placing hands on his face.

“Your smile just now wasn’t real at all.”

Edwin thought he’d long mastered wearing a smiling mask, hiding his emotions perfectly in his past life, unnoticed by anyone—except Tal. It wasn’t a divine ability; even the young demon’s gaze made Edwin feel transparently seen.

Holding his stiff pose, Edwin cautiously reached to touch Tal’s hand. But the demon flashed a sly look, his fingers gently lifting. Edwin felt the skin around his mouth tugged playfully, Tal forcing him into a smile.

“At least pull the corners up this far,” Tal tilted his head. “Still a bit awkward, but better than before.”

He let go, and Edwin, unsure whether to maintain the expression, hesitated. The demon, seeing his indecision, couldn’t help but chuckle: 

“That’s not what I meant, Edwin. I think your genuine smile is better than any of these expressions. I don’t know what you’re worried about, but it’s probably my future, right? I’ll definitely go to the capital, even if I know everything now. In your time, it’s already done. It’s okay—I don’t think the future will be that bad.”

“…Why?”

It always happened like this, the atmosphere between them flipping. Edwin realized he was never strong enough before Tal. The demon’s influence on him was immense, and no matter how desperately he wanted to do more for Tal, he couldn’t rewrite the past or save him from that sunless history.

“Because you’re in my future.” Tal said it as if it were obvious, his voice softening, laced with a teasing hook. “And you’re so good to me.”

The warmth of the demon’s fingers lingered on his face. Edwin stared, slightly dazed, realizing that even in the past, he was being comforted by a demon not yet a god. He gave a wry smile, shaking his head. 

“I haven’t done enough. I met you too late—”

“Edwin,” Tal interrupted, asking an odd question. “Was it love at first sight for you?”

The question felt out of place in the moment, but it successfully derailed Edwin’s thoughts. He shook his head instinctively, then felt he’d ruined the mood. His light gray eyes shimmered with hesitation and undisguised affection as Tal pressed on: 

“What about me? Was it love at first sight for me? I don’t know if the future me told you, but you look like my type, and your personality too.”

Edwin had never heard this before.

“Really,” Tal lifted his eyes, “but even so, when I met you now, my first thought was just to run. I don’t believe I’d fall for anyone—not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t yet have the courage to love. If you’d met me earlier, something terrible might’ve happened. So let’s believe this: we met at just the right time.”

“This is an unplanned encounter,” the bishop couldn’t help but say.

“You love the future me—”

Tal was always so sharp. He swirled the half-drunk mead in his hand, smiling at him. “Or rather, all of me. Even if I have to go through a lot of bad things, I’ll end up becoming that person. But you’re right too—I already kind of like you now. Barring this situation, time travel isn’t exactly an everyday thing.”

Comforted by a demon who knew nothing. Edwin lowered his eyes, a complex mix of emotions stirring within—some bitterness, but also a sweetness like mead.

“So I haven’t fully answered your question,” the demon with garnet-red eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, then let his gaze wander over the room’s furnishings. Only one bed. With a hint of playful reproach, he said, “Didn’t you ask why I tried to run? Edwin, don’t you think there’s something off about this room?”

Edwin froze, looking at Tal, hesitating, unsure how to respond. When he booked the room, he knew he’d never spend the night here. Rather, once the temporal rift stabilized, everything experienced here would become a dream Tal was destined to forget.

“I see,” Tal said, swiftly picking up on Edwin’s hesitation and guessing the reason. He took another big sip of mead, the remaining liquid sloshing with tiny bubbles. “It’s because you didn’t plan to stay overnight, right? I was startled by that. Are you leaving now?”

Merely answering his question, Edwin’s voice had no time to carry emotion. “About fifteen minutes left.”

Adelaide would likely knock soon. Had the black dragon finished handling Tal’s side? Edwin wondered how Tal and his past self had gotten along. The temporal disturbance only felt fleeting as it neared its end, everything slipping irretrievably toward the next juncture. Edwin suddenly realized how many unresolved regrets he still held.

If only he could’ve protected him on the day of the Church’s execution.

If only he could’ve smashed the Church’s silver bottle sooner.

But temporal disturbances weren’t predictable, and the day he arrived wasn’t special. Edwin had shielded Tal from the holy knights and the demon king’s minions, but once the timeline stabilized, Tal could surely handle the mess himself. In truth, without Edwin, Tal might’ve slipped out of the tavern the moment he sensed trouble.

“I didn’t think it’d be so soon,” Tal said, lowering his eyes, a rare trace of disappointment in his voice. The time limit was known from the start, and now he regretted dodging Edwin when they first met. The man with light gray eyes, the dangerous man, had already carved a unique, irreplaceable place in his heart.

Someone who came from the future to find him.

His existence would soon be erased from this wrong timeline, like a leaf falling from a tree into the soil, natural and inevitable.

If there were fifteen minutes left, what should they do?

Fifteen minutes was enough for the tavern keeper to craft a mead from start to finish, for Edwin to kill countless enemies, for them to exchange many words about the future and love. Fifteen minutes gave Tal time to slip away from tricky foes, for the demon to nap in an empty cave, recharging for the journey ahead. Fifteen minutes, they say, was the blooming period of a flower that opened only once a year under moonlight.

Fifteen minutes was enough for a hug.

“Edwin,” the bishop carried a near-icy scent, just like the man himself. Tal suddenly grew curious about how the future him had managed to make someone like this reveal such vulnerability. Regardless, Edwin leaned down, enveloping him completely. The other’s breathing was quick but soft against his ear.

For the first time, Tal was so close to someone, their hearts pulsing just a thin layer of skin apart.

His words felt hot yet light, spilling from his lips: “Tell me what you absolutely want me to remember. Please, tell me how I’ll know it’s you.”

If nothing would remain…

Light gray eyes reflected shimmering red. Tal realized, unnoticed, that faint, bright tears had misted his eyes like fog. He rested his head on Edwin’s shoulder, suppressing his trembling. Until now, he’d held it together, even comforting Edwin, telling him not to worry, that the future was the best time to meet. Tal had said so, yet his heart repeated: If only I’d met you now.

He was the greatest liar. Edwin couldn’t deceive him, but he could fool Edwin.

Edwin couldn’t see. Tal blinked, a tear sliding from his eyelid, falling silently to the floor behind the bishop. The demon’s raven hair spread like countless threads, brushing against Edwin’s chest and shoulders. The bishop reached out, stroking his hair, silent but with gestures soft as comfort.

The final fifteen minutes should melt into a hug that transcended time.

“Just trust me a little more, Tal,” Edwin said with a sigh. “You don’t need to do anything. I’ll find you. I absolutely will.”

*

The knock finally came. At that moment, everything seemed to fracture faintly, space and time frozen, silver fragments isolating Edwin from everything else—including Tal. His eyes seemed to shimmer with silver shards too, until he was forced to lose the person in his arms. Only then did the bishop realize those were glistening tears.

Tal remained alone in the past.

Edwin raised his hand, wanting to touch him once more, but Tal became a phantom in time, shattering and vanishing through his fingers, as futile as grasping moonlight in water. He felt lost, as if it were all just a dream, leaving no trace, no mark preserved. But Tal was so wonderful. Edwin reached out again and again, afraid the final touch would scatter the lingering reflection.

Moonlight spread cleanly across the ground, the snow sparkling with a pale glow.

Adelaide stood cautiously at the alley’s mouth, clearly wary of approaching this Edwin. Temporal disturbances weren’t within its control; it could only ensure those caught in the rifts returned safely when time realigned. Time, that elusive thing, was merciless, impossible to hold back—

Edwin froze.

He slowly lowered his head, opening his left hand. There, a small scrap of fabric lay crumpled. He’d grabbed Tal’s sleeve, and in haste, Tal had cut it off with a knife. Edwin knew that as the disturbance resolved, everything reset to a state of never having happened. But in the end, he’d clung to a faint hope, pulling the tiny piece of fabric from his spatial item, clutching it tightly.

It was now in the bishop’s hand, carrying the sweet scent of mead from over a thousand years ago.

A sudden impulse seized Edwin. Right now, he needed to see Tal. He quickened his pace, leaving deep and shallow footprints in the snow. Adelaide, narrowly escaping trouble, sighed in relief and tactfully slipped away. Edwin walked faster, no ordinary man—he reached the familiar wooden door in a blink.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked, though he could’ve turned the knob himself.

Tal heard the knock, his footsteps approaching from afar until he stood on the other side. The next second, he released the door, and it swung open from within. His lover with red eyes stood there, looking up at him, eyes bright and clear as if freshly washed by tears.

“Sorry for the wait,” Edwin realized he couldn’t say more. “Tal.”

Almost instantly, Tal reached out, wrapping his arms around him. Warm breath melted the snowflakes on his clothes. So grateful, he pressed himself tightly against his beloved: “We still have time.”

Wonderful, Edwin thought. We still have so much time, even if there’s regret, even if there’s unwillingness, even if what’s happened can’t be redone—

But we met at the perfect time.