If So, Don't Come Back

Yunus personally opened the bottle for Iver.

As he poured the wine into the crystal glass, its fragrant, sweet aroma filled the small bedroom.

The midday sun shone from the side into the crystal-clear red wine, casting a dappled, blood-red spectrum on the table.

Iver sat down opposite him, resting his chin on his left hand. His right fingers gently traced circles, touching the cold rim of the glass.

A slight chill seeped through the crystal and onto my fingertips—this was clearly a bottle of wine that had just been taken out of its sealed state.

"Mr. Yunus, is this the wine you brought?"

Iver asked.

Yunus chuckled, "Of course not... how could that be? This is Mr. Maxim's wine collection—of course, it's not stolen, it was with his permission."

"I told him I wanted to serve you this, and he readily agreed. It's truly an honor... I'm so grateful to have had the pleasure of drinking such a fine wine."

"I remember one of the reasons why the 'Sacred Tree' series of wines is so delicious is that the vines are also connected to the sacred tree itself. In a sense, this can be considered wine made from the fruit of the sacred tree—and in another sense, the elves are nothing more than Child of the Holy Tree."

Iver said with a smile, "So what we drink can also be considered the Blood Wine of the elven race."

"... Oh dear, you..."

"—Cheers."

Iver interrupted Yunus.

He raised his glass, his slightly narrowed eyes filled with a deep gaze. "Your His Highness the Prince."

Yunus slightly suppressed his smile, picked up his glass and lightly clinked it against Iver's, making a crisp sound.

He looked up and took a sip of his drink.

When he put down his glass again, his slightly messy, dull golden hair naturally fell from his temples.

The bald man who had originally looked comical, clumsy, and kind had now become a completely different person.

He is at least half a head taller than Yunus and has a stronger physique. His face, with deep features and a somewhat decadent face, should have looked quite handsome. You can vaguely see traces of Isabel's appearance.

But his hair was not only dry and dull, but also had some white and light gold mottled colors... making him look like a long-haired stray dog that hadn't groomed its fur in a long time.

His beard was sparse, not quite a full beard, but just a ring around his mouth. His skin was rough, far from Yunus's fair and soft, baby-like skin; his pores were so large they resembled those of a drunkard. Even his cheeks were slightly sunken, and noticeable dark circles were visible under his eyes... his eyes were even a little red. That wasn't from crying, but from lack of sleep.

If it weren't for the fact that his skin and hair were relatively clean, he would probably be mistaken for a homeless person on the street. But even so, his demeanor would only lead people to think of him as a farmer or Hunter.

The only thing that made people feel something was wrong was his still calm and deep, oily green eyes.

Those eyes weren't cloudy; on the contrary, they looked very young.

"That's more like it."

Iver showed no surprise, but simply raised his glass again. "Now that's more like a decadent poet who plays music and sings on the street. Or to put it another way—you look like you're going to be the Lich King. That terrifies me."

"... When did you find out?"

Yunus —or rather, Prince Albert— was silent for a moment before asking.

His voice is deep, husky, and magnetic; it's a rare bass voice.

The rough texture of his voice immediately tells you he's been smoking for quite some time.

As Iver pulled the necklace from his collar, he said softly, "You looked at it way too many times. And you didn't hide your gaze at all."

"A bard should not know what this treasure looks like, much less have any memories of it."

"So that's the reason?"

Prince Albert pondered for a moment, "It seems I'm not mature enough..."

"--certainly."

Iver interrupted him.

Seeing Prince Albert raise his head in surprise, Iver smiled slyly, revealing Fox- like grin. "That's a lie—an excuse specifically designed to fool you."

"... The truth?"

"I knew from the very beginning that Yunus was Prince Albert. I also knew that the real Yunus died while saving you."

"—From that day on, ' Albert Du Lac ' died."

Iver said meaningfully.

What died that day was not only the identity of "Albert Du Lac", but also the lazy and rebellious young Prince.

His arrogance led him into unnecessary trouble, and his carelessness caused him to lose his chance of victory and end up in prison.

Given Prince Albert's personality, even if he were to die due to his own negligence, at most he would just stubbornly say, "I've really messed up today," and he would never admit to even a single mistake until his death.

But in the end, it was not he who paid the price, but his most cherished friend—the mediocre poet Yunus, who was always cheerful, carefree, yet often had some profound insights.

In that instant, he knew what regret was.

Suddenly, Prince Albert laughed.

Because his teeth were somewhat yellow, his smile wasn't attractive; he even looked like a rustic woodcutter.

But he spoke in a calm voice with Glass Island accent, "... A prophecy? That's really unreasonable."

"Pretty much. You could call it a prophecy."

Iver nodded.

Prince Albert looked up. "Just like all those amazing things you usually do? Because you see the future, so you decide to change it?"

Yes, that's right.

Aren't you afraid that the future you've changed might actually be worse?

Albert picked up his glass and countered, "Whether they are prophets or astrologers, although they can foresee the future, they dare not change it."

"That's because the altered future is entangled with too many causes and effects, like an event that has drawn in many powerful individuals. The future that was originally clear becomes unclear. And someone who is used to seeing the future will naturally become fearful if they suddenly lose that power."

Iver said in a clear and calm tone.

"... So that's how you see it."

Prince Albert stared at Iver for a while before giving a wry smile, leaning over and patting Iver on the shoulder. "You're better than me, kid."

"--certainly."

Iver did not accept the praise, but instead replied without hesitation, "Of course I am stronger than you."

"At the very least, I would never miss my mother's funeral—if I had the chance. And I would never leave my daughter alone to go out and fight crime."

"Even if I am ultimately cursed to death, I will die before my daughter. Because even if it is just my life that is used to shield her from a curse, it will be worthwhile."

He looked at Prince Albert and said, word by word, "So, why did you run away?"

"You should know Isabel's character. If she hadn't become so strong, if I hadn't cleared away her enemies... if Star Antimony hadn't launched its attack at that moment, giving us a chance to retaliate, did you ever consider the pressure she would have faced ruling all of Avalon alone? You didn't stand by her side to strengthen her will when she was confused in her childhood; you weren't there to encourage her when she was afraid of the curse; you didn't pass on your experience and skills after she embarked on the path of the extraordinary. Her mother died, the kingdom was without a ruler, and you still didn't return. You handed Avalon over to your introverted nineteen-year-old daughter, along with those covetous rebels—including me."

"You just abandoned your own daughter and came to the Theocracy to care for someone else's daughter. What, you think this is justice?"

"... Or do you see this as a form of 'sacrifice'?"

Prince Albert remained silent in the face of Iver's questioning.

He simply lowered his head and poured himself a drink, then poured some for Iver as well.

Looking down at his movements, Iver's tone softened slightly, but the content remained sharper:

"Isabel said she would be crowned on her birthday."

"—I don't need to tell you her birthday, do I? If you don't come that day, you'll never have to come back again."

In that instant, Iver saw Prince Albert's pupils finally tremble.