Henry immediately asked, as if he feared time might evaporate in his hands, "How much is the grave?"
The man replied while counting on his fingers with weary casualness, "One hundred pounds for the middle class… and only twenty-five for the poor."
Henry did not hesitate for a moment. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out the money, paying one hundred pounds as though he were buying a secret. Then he said in a strangely steady tone,
"I want to see him… before he's buried."
The guard raised his eyebrows suspiciously and paused to examine the young man's face before asking, "And why is that?"
Henry lowered his voice, as if the words carried the shadow of grief. "He was… a childhood friend. I want to see him one last time… before he leaves forever."
The man's expression softened. The sadness in Henry's voice seemed convincing enough. He nodded without pressing further and led him through a narrow corridor, dark except for the trembling light of a lamp.
They stopped before a heavy metal door. When the guard pushed it open, a sharp wave of cold air rushed out, like the breath of the dead themselves. Henry froze for a moment, then stepped inside.
There, on a metal table, lay John's body, motionless, wrapped in a dull piece of cloth.
Henry approached slowly. His voice was calm but sharp when he spoke. "Could you leave us alone for a moment?"
The guard nodded with slight hesitation, then turned and left, the lamp's faint light trembling behind him.
Henry moved closer until the faint squeak of his shoes echoed in the room. Carefully, he reached out and touched John's face. It was cold as ice. Slowly, he lifted his hand and opened the eyelids…
There was nothing.
The eyes were hollow—an empty black void staring back at him, exactly as he had expected.
His breath trembled, and a bitter smile formed on his lips as he murmured to himself,
"There's no such thing as coincidence in this world."
Henry left the freezing room with calm steps and closed the metal door behind him, as if he were sealing a page that should never be opened again. He asked the guard to begin the burial immediately, then slipped an extra twenty pounds into his hand.
The man did not argue. At such a late hour, generosity was never questioned.
Henry sat beside the grave, watching the soil fall over John's body. He had never known him in life—had only met him in death—and yet a strange bond now existed between them.
Because John's black eyes now rested in Henry's room.
A long silence followed, broken only by the sound of the shovel cutting through the earth.
When the burial was finished, Henry stood, thanked the guard, and left the cemetery slowly. There was no carriage to take him home, so he had to walk, the night heavy upon his shoulders.
At the entrance of the district where the family mansion stood, he suddenly stopped.
A girl stood there, only a few steps away… as if she had been waiting for him.
Her features were familiar, yet carried something unsettling—something that carved into his memory like an old wound.
It was… Arbella.
She stood firmly and called out in a gentle voice that cut like a blade,
"Kayden… stop."
Henry froze in place, his face showing no reaction.
He was not Kayden.
Yet what angered him most was that he felt no discomfort at the mistake. Instead, a faint, almost invisible smirk touched his lips. He no longer hated the confusion between them.
Perhaps… he had begun to accept it.
Arbella approached calmly and reached out to take his hand.
Henry remained where he stood, as though something in the air had held him still.
She didn't even notice I'm not him… he thought rationally.
For a long moment, Henry studied her face, trying to read the motives behind the expression framed by her blonde hair like a painting hiding many secrets. She smiled with simple charm, yet that smile stirred a strange dizziness inside him.
He gathered his voice and tried to make it resemble Kaiden's tone, as if the voice alone might save the moment from exposure.
"Yes?" he said calmly.
Arbella spoke softly, "Kayden, why do you keep moving around like this everywhere? You make me worry…"
She had no idea the man standing before her was Henry, not Kayden. Her words were less a question than a repetition of an old plea.
Henry stared at her in confusion, unsure how to respond, the questions poisoning his mouth. Finally, he asked quietly, "What do you mean?"
She raised her hand toward his face, attempting an intimate touch, but he suddenly stepped back, as if some inner moral principle had warned him not to cross a line.
He spoke quickly, "This… is completely unethical."
Arbella laughed lightly—a laugh that carried neither cruelty nor tenderness."That's exactly what I expected from you. You haven't changed at all."
Then her tone shifted slightly. "But moving around like this is dangerous. I came to tell you… the desire that was planted inside you will fade soon—perhaps with the sunrise. But the thing that was planted within you…"
Her voice softened. "…will kill you."
She stepped closer until her breath brushed against his skin and pointed with a delicate finger to his chest—right above the place where something uncertain beat inside him.
"What do you feel right now?" she asked quietly. "You seem… stronger."
A sudden urge to flee ignited inside Henry—an instinctive desire to retreat. But he quickly realized that running now would not truly change anything. He raised his eyes, his expression carrying the same cold composure Kayden often used when he did not want to be exposed.
"I don't feel anything… I just don't want to stay here with you in the same place."
She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed softly with a trace of sadness. "You're cruel… you haven't changed at all. And that… makes me sad."
She stepped a few paces away, then turned back as if asking a final question—one from which there would be no return. "Do you… want to come to my wedding?"
Henry froze in place. The words caught in his throat. He had no idea what the proper answer should sound like in a moment like this.
What would Kayden say if he were here?
He didn't know.
His voice came out barely audible. "I'll think about it."
Arbella smiled with a gentle, mysterious expression—the kind of smile that reveals nothing while hiding everything.
"That's good."
At that moment, Henry noticed the shadow of someone walking along the distant pavement. He turned his head to confirm the source of the sound, but when he looked back—
Arbella was gone.
Henry pressed his hand against his forehead with heavy irritation and muttered, "This… is extremely annoying."
He returned home with quiet steps that almost resembled invisibility, as if he feared the world might notice his presence. He did not make a single sound until he sat in his usual corner.
There, he sank into a long stare at the black eyes placed before him, as though they were the most precious thing he had ever seen in his life.
Cold. Calm. Dark.
Exactly as he wanted them.
Yet inside his mind, Arbella's voice continued to echo without end, her words slipping through his thoughts like a broken melody:
"Her eyes are like the ocean…"
Henry closed his eyes and sighed.
In the end, Henry preferred black.
At sunrise, the two brothers gathered at the breakfast table.
Kayden sat recounting everything he had discovered the previous night. He left nothing unsaid, hiding no detail, as if the weight on his shoulders could not bear secrecy.
But while Kayden was speaking, something about Henry's appearance caught his attention.
The brother who had seemed bright and lively the day before now looked gray… pale, as if the night had drained something from him.
Kayden fell silent for a moment before finally asking, his tone carrying more concern than curiosity.
"Are you alright? Is the thesis really that difficult?"
Henry slowly shook his head.
"I didn't sleep well… and I also saw Arbella. She couldn't tell us apart. She was warning you… she said you should stay away. But did she place something else inside you?"
He recounted what had happened in a low voice.
Kayden's expression shifted into a mixture of discomfort and disgust.
"Why did you even go out? I don't remember any of that. What could she possibly have put inside me if even my father couldn't see it? Could it be something not connected to spiritual energy at all?"
he asked, raising his cup.
Henry stiffened slightly, then looked down at the cup in front of him.
"It's possible she put some kind of illness inside you… Let me examine you. Also—was Colton here last night?"
"…?"
Kayden didn't know how to answer, so he simply said "No."
Then how did the gift reach my room? Henry wondered with quiet confusion. Kayden doesn't know… and Mary never entered either, because I locked the room.
"Then thank him for me," Henry said calmly. "His gift was very good."
Before the two of them left the house, Kayden climbed the stairs quickly until he found Colton sitting there coldly, as if nothing had happened.
Kayden stopped in front of him and asked in a low voice,
"What gift is he talking about?"
Colton shrugged indifferently, a faint smile resting on his lips. "I don't know… maybe he just has a few questions."
Then he slowly raised his hand and pointed toward his black eyes, as if the entire answer was there.
Kayden stared at him silently for a moment.
He understood.
He was not stupid—but he chose not to say anything.
After all, he knew very well how skilled Henry was at following threads.
Yet Colton, unlike his usual calm self, seemed slightly hesitant this time before suddenly speaking.
"My lord… the contract between us was not complete. You were right from the beginning. I apologize."
Kayden's eyes narrowed slowly. A shadow of annoyance crossed his features, but he did not look surprised.
"Because I didn't possess a spiritual core back then, right?"
Colton nodded, his voice more serious than before.
"I never intended to hide it from you… You're clever enough. In fact, you realized it immediately—even from the start."
Kayden stepped closer, and this time his voice came out clearly.
"Complete the contract."
It was the first time he had issued such a direct order, one carrying this much weight—without hints or ambiguity.
Colton fell silent for a moment. Then his eyes gleamed with a mysterious light. He understood that the game had now taken a completely different turn.
Before, Kayden's demands had been simple… almost trivial.
But now, it was something decisive.
"Where do you want it?" Colton asked.
His voice had changed.
It sounded hollow… terrifying.
Kayden briefly remembered the first moment he had met him—the moment filled with doubt and unease.
"Will the mark be permanent?" he asked.
"Yes," Colton replied. "It will never disappear."
Kayden's terms in the contract had been harsh… even cruel. Yet he had granted Colton a wide freedom—a freedom not given without reason.
And now, Colton only wanted to finish it. To close the open door.
He could have assassinated him at any moment. The contract had not been complete.
But Kayden was not naive. He was always vigilant.
And Colton… did not see him merely as a master.
He saw him as a raw jewel—a core that needed polishing until it reached the highest ranks.
With every day he spent in this house, Colton became more certain that he had chosen the right path by not assassinating him.
Colton spoke again, his voice steady, carrying the tone of unwavering loyalty.
"My lord… from now on, I will never be separated from you. I will be your sword and your shield."
In a heavy silence, Kayden removed his upper clothing and stepped toward the mirror, which reflected his pale body.
He raised his left arm and pointed to a place below his hip.
"Here… where no one will see it."
Colton understood immediately, and a mysterious smile appeared on his lips.
Then the symbol revealed itself from nothing.
A black mark—sharp in shape—appeared like a long spear. Thin thorns ran along it, ending in fractured tips.
At its top was an irregular star-like form, closer to a blade that had shattered in an ancient battle.
From its left side curved a slanted half-circle, resembling a broken wing frozen in the middle of its fall.
Around its center spread thin branching lines like dried roots… or cracks in an ancient stone.
The entire mark looked like a seal from a forgotten world—an eternal wound placed upon Kayden's body to stand as witness to the oath.
Colton spoke in a voice that echoed like an eternal law being declared.
"In my name, Colton Demian… I complete the contract."
In the next moment, an inner blaze swept through Kayden.
A burning heat surged through him like fever in his blood. His entire body trembled under the weight of the new power.
Then… the pain vanished as suddenly as it had begun, leaving behind only a weary emptiness—yet one bound by an eternal link.
The silence did not last long before a calm voice broke it, now carrying none of the dread of the pact—only the simplicity of daily life.
"My lord, I'll be going to the library today… and don't forget your doctor's appointment. Post something about the worms—that thing looks disgusting."