Turning Chapter 985
"Then, now that you know everything up to this point, I should tell you about the dream I had before we went to sea."
“I’ve been looking forward to that one,” Kishiar said with interest.
He shifted his position. This time, he set his milk cup on the bedside table and slid down to rest across Yuder’s lap. The way Yuder could now see his face even more clearly from above was... undeniably pleasing.
"Is this too heavy?"
"No."
Yuder slipped his fingers «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» through the strands of hair stuck to Kishiar’s forehead and gently brushed them back. The soft sensation running beneath his fingertips was intensely satisfying.
"This is good."
A gentle, elegant scent wafted from Kishiar, who stretched out like a content predator beneath Yuder’s touch. As Yuder traced the smooth forehead with his fingertips, he slowly followed the scent’s pull, brushing carefully over his cheek and ear. Kishiar’s blinking red eyes gradually relaxed, half-lidded with comfort.
To be honest, at that moment, Yuder briefly wanted to kiss him again, more than he wanted to talk. If he hadn’t understood how important this conversation was, he might’ve let that impulse win.
Because this third dream about the white-gloved hand... it had been incredibly important. Without it, Yuder might not have changed his perspective on that hand as he had, and he might not have faced the southern disaster with such composure.
And even now, the memory of what he saw beneath that glove—like a nail lodged into his chest—remained.
“...”
It felt similar to that moment when he’d looked past the mist-covered sea, believing the storm had finally passed. As that feeling settled in him again, Yuder exhaled deeply—and Kishiar, without a word, placed his hand over Yuder’s and guided it to his chest.
Their interlocked hands settled over Kishiar’s heart, warm skin pulsing gently beneath the open collar of his shirt.
A slow rise and fall with each breath.
A heart beating, steady and strong.
Kishiar had a way of giving Yuder exactly what he needed, even if it was something Yuder himself hadn’t yet realized he wanted.
Yuder slowly parted his lips. The first words flowed out more smoothly than he had expected.
“In that dream, I was still in the black space. It was my third time meeting the white-gloved hand, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to ask some questions. I also intended to make it clear that I hadn’t come back there of my own will.”
Honestly, it hadn’t been the most mature mindset. Seeing the unresponsive, silent white glove reminded him too much of Kishiar from his previous life—it made him irrationally irritated.
But the way that hand responded to his childish, confrontational attitude...
At that moment, the chest beneath their entwined hands rose sharply—because Kishiar laughed. When their eyes met, Kishiar shook his head with a mock-serious expression.
“Mm... sorry, I suddenly laughed. I just couldn’t help imagining how you must’ve said it—it was too cute. So? What did the hand say?”
Yuder looked down at Kishiar’s amused face for a moment before answering.
“...Exactly what you just did.”
Unlike the Kishiar from his past life, the Kishiar now often smiled in many different ways when looking at Yuder. Early on, when Yuder had just joined the Cavalry, he’d worn a brilliant, dazzling smile—like a perfect facade. Other times, he’d smiled with effort, forced to endure difficult moments with habitual composure. Sometimes there had been pained, fleeting smiles, wrapped in anguish.
But when Kishiar’s emotions truly overflowed—like now—he would smile silently, without sound.
Like a breeze rustling through hair.
Heavy with feeling, like it changed the very air around them.
No one else would ever imagine Kishiar smiling that way, but Yuder had seen it more than once. At this point, he could almost guess the exact kind of smile based on just the shift in air.
That’s why—even in the dream, even though it was only a hand—when the air shifted, Yuder had instinctively pictured that expression.
And it had startled him deeply.
Yuder looked into Kishiar’s face, now quiet again, and continued.
“Even if it was just a hand... I could tell. And then it answered me.”
It said it was strange—how even with nothing left but this, Yuder still treated it as itself.
"It said it probably wasn’t a good idea... but also admitted most of my guesses weren’t wrong. Of course, those guesses were mostly—"
“—things I said?” Kishiar asked softly.
“Yes.”
“...And what else did it say?”
“It told me that I have these dreams when a ‘gap opens wide.’”
“Gap... You think it means a rift?”
“It said ‘between here and there,’ so I assumed so.”
But the next part... Yuder still didn’t fully understand what it meant.
‘—Then, you are naturally drawn in. The unburnt remnants at the end of causality...’
Residual power. Pulled through the connection.
“Connection,” Kishiar echoed, repeating the word like a whisper.
Once more, their eyes moved to the golden threads floating between them. They had looked at them earlier too—but now, there was a weight behind the gaze. A significance.
Both Yuder’s heart and the one under his palm seemed to beat harder in perfect sync.
“I started wondering what that ‘power’ meant—what kind of power wasn’t fully burned away. I thought maybe if I saw the hand beneath the glove, I’d understand more. So... I removed it.”
The white-gloved hand didn’t resist Yuder’s actions.
Beneath the glove was a hand—almost identical to the one Yuder now held—but marked with far more terrifying wounds.
He had already guessed, from his dream-like memories, that something had gone wrong with Kishiar’s vessel during the Red Stone recovery mission in the previous life. But he never expected to confirm it like this.
No matter how accurate your guesses are—nothing prepares you for the moment of direct confirmation.
How could he even describe what he felt in that moment?
In nearly two years of their past life, Yuder had never once seen Kishiar’s bare hand.
But there it was.
The answer to every painful truth Yuder hadn’t wanted to believe, exposed in full.
Just remembering it made his fingers tremble. He had prepared himself for this conversation, but the truth—when tied to Kishiar—always managed to shake him.
If Kishiar hadn’t gripped his hand a little tighter just then, he might not have been able to continue. But those long fingers pressed firmly, silently vowing to hold him steady.
Yuder opened his dry lips again.
“...To be honest.”
“...”
“I didn’t... feel very positively toward the former you.”
“...”
“You taught me many things, but you also left so much unsaid. Just like I grew to resent and hate you... I thought maybe you’d felt the same. That seeking me out had just been a passing whim. That our fates had collided briefly—an ill-fated tie with no reason to ever reconnect.”
And their bond had ended in a way that fit such a belief perfectly.
One a murderer, the other murdered.
Yuder had tried not to think of him again, even deliberately. He believed everything had ended.
“But... when I saw that wound—when I came back and remembered everything that’s happened...”
He remembered the man he had come to know.
How worthy of love he was.
How he, too, had loved Yuder deeply, unconditionally—almost blindly.
And he remembered... the Emperor’s face. So cold, so aloof, unable to even touch his wife as he waited to die from the damage done to his vessel.