​Alaric stood rooted to the spot. His jaw was clenched so tightly the bone looked ready to snap.

He looked at the man wearing Julian’s face—the man who had just dismantled an Empire for sport—and felt a wave of helpless, suffocating spite.

He couldn’t torture a confession out of him. He couldn’t strike him. Every bruise he left on this stranger would be a bruise his Julian would wake up with.

Julian would be the only one to suffer.

​"Tell me this," Alaric finally spoke, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. "Are you the reason Julian has that ’illness’?"

​The figure in the chair went still. For a heartbeat, the mockery vanished. Then, he cackled, trying to replace the flicker of surprise just now.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

​"Yes, you do." Alaric stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed the chair. He leaned down, his eyes burning into the silver of the mask. "Why does he wake up and wheeze, holding his chest? Why does he suffer every waking moment? What is your connection with it?"

​"And if I say there is no connection?"

​"I do not believe you!" Alaric snapped.

​"But you can’t do anything even if you don’t believe me, right?" Julian purred, his eyes glinting behind the jagged mirror mask. "You can’t torture me. You can’t hurt me. You can’t do anything, Lucien. So, tell me, how do you plan to get the truth out of me?"

​The silence that followed was heavy with the smell of damp stone, rot, moss, and Alaric’s despair.

The Duke’s fingers dug into his own folded arms, his nails drawing blood through his sleeves. He looked at the man he had held no more than an hour ago, the man he had just tried to ’warm’ back to life, and the weight of his own powerlessness broke him.

​"Please..." Alaric whispered. The word was like a jagged, bleeding thing. He lowered his head, his shoulders shaking as he begged. "Tell me how to stop it. Tell me how to save him. I don’t... want to watch him suffer any more than he already has."

​Julian froze. He, who had just laughed at an Emperor’s blood, was suddenly taken aback. He looked up at the Duke—this legendary man of iron and war—who was now bowing his head, begging for the life of a scholar who wasn’t even ’him.’

​A flicker of something mournful and helpless passed through his eyes as he thought back to his time growing up in the Astrea mansion.

He thought of the cold attic he had been locked in from time to time, hungry and alone, he thought of the dark he had been buried in, and the dirt he had to dig in order to see the light again. He thought of the stairs where he had been pushed so many times he could not count.

In that house where he was a stain, there was an edge, and he had been pushed over it countless times.

He thought of the society that had mocked him, and the absolute, crushing loneliness that had led him to drown.

If there had been one person—just one—who had lowered their head for him like this... would he have ever reached for the abyss? Would he have sold his soul?

​"Heh," he scoffed softly, but the predatory edge was gone. "All that is water under the bridge now."

​He looked at the red timer glitching in the corner of his vision.

> [MISSION: CREATE CHAOS IN THE CAPITAL]

> [STATUS: COMPLETED]

> [TIME LEFT BEFORE SOUL VANISHES: 00:12] .... His time was an expiring debt.

​"You won’t need to worry about that anymore," he muttered.

Julian raised his head, and for the first time, he gave Alaric a smile that wasn’t a weapon. It was real.

"He’ll be free from my clutches after now. My time is already up anyway. I’ve done what I wanted to do. My soul will disappear, and Julian—or rather, Kim Jowoon—will have full control of this body."

​He shook his head, a faint, teary shimmer appearing in his eyes.

​"He won’t have to bother about the ’Waking Madness’ anymore. But I think he has so much more to worry about now, haha." He let out a final, shaky laugh. "You’re a good man, Lucien. Not a ’good person,’ but a good partner, so continue to be good and... Treasure Kim Jowoon."

​"Who is Kim Jowoon?" Alaric asked, his brow furrowing in deep confusion.

​The timer hit [00:03].

​"Ask him that yourself," Julian said. He looked at Alaric one last time, his expression softening into a strange peace. "Oh, and tell him thank you for me."

​The timer hit [00:00].

​The light in his eyes immediately vanished, and his head fell forward, his chin hitting his chest as his body went limp against the ropes like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Alaric wanted to reach for him, scared that something had happened to Julian, but with a finger over his nose, he realized he was still breathing and let out a sigh of relief.

But he could not be fully relieved. Not after what he had heard.

​"Kim... Jowoon?" Alaric whispered into the silence of the cellar, the name sounding just as strange as he had heard it.

Who was Kim Jowoon? He did not know.

But he did know one thing.

Alaric reached for the mask and slowly took it off. Julian’s face, fair and calm in his sleep, was just as he had left him on the bed.

I know one Julian and one tutor. Come back to me, Julian.

​The Present — In the Cellar

"Julian," the Duke called, his voice calm but his eyes searching.

He had just finished telling Julian everything that happened up to the point where the other Julian vanished, and Julian, well, he was having a little breakdown.

​Julian’s heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic, uneven rhythm that made his chest feel too tight.