Chapter 1
Prologue
Ever since he could remember, Abel lived as the herald of God, exalted by all.
Because of that, Abel was generous with everything — and indifferent to all. When one can reach out and take anything, paradoxically, there is nothing one wishes to possess.
Was that why?
“I hate you.”
When the trial sent by the Father came, the only one who remained at Abel’s side was a paladin who hated him, loathed him, and looked at him with revulsion.
The knight famed for the beauty said to be the Father’s grace.
A man known solely for his looks.
His divine power was meager, his swordsmanship unremarkable, but for the sole reason of being pleasant to look at, he had become Abel’s guard.
Of course, Abel never paid attention to that face.
Not for any particular reason. Abel simply had no interest in others.
He did not know the names of the priests assigned to serve him, nor did he care that some of them profited off his name, or that his guard was tormented by those who once adored him.
That might have been part of why the man grew to despise him.
Even knowing how he was treated, Abel had done nothing.
‘Then why didn’t he abandon me?’
Even those who once bowed at his feet, begging for attention, craving affection — they had all left him. Yet that man, with a look of pure disgust, continued to lead him forward.
Abel followed, dragged by that man through filth and refuse, rolling in the gutters, covered in rot.
But the Father’s trials were endless.
And the first to fall was that man.
“Get… away.”
The man, on the verge of death, struggled to free himself from Abel’s arms, even with a body that no longer obeyed him.
Even now, at the end, it seemed the mere touch of Abel was enough to make his skin crawl.
That unchanging revulsion made Abel, for the first time in a while, look directly at the man’s face.
He had heard, after all, that the knight was beautiful.
He couldn’t recall the exact shape of his features, but he remembered the brilliant golden hair, the clear blue eyes.
Even Abel, as indifferent as he was to all things, could not help but remember, after spending twelve months alone with someone.
But the once-radiant gold had dulled, the once-clear blue clouded over. The face that had once been praised as beautiful was now marred with rough scars, remnants of wounds left too long untreated.
As Abel wiped the dark blood dripping from the man’s lips, he asked, his voice quiet, eyes dim with exhaustion:
“What’s your name?”
When was the last time he had been curious about anyone’s name? When had he last looked at someone this closely?
But the man, true to form, only stared back with a look of revulsion.
Normally, Abel would not have asked again. He had never wanted to know something badly enough to ask twice.
And yet, for some truly strange reason, he found himself wanting to know the man’s name.
So for the first time in his life, Abel took the initiative and offered someone a deal.
“I will pray for you in your name.”
But what Abel offered was something that had already lost its value.
Once, as the beloved herald of the Father, Abel’s prayers had been precious. But now, under divine trial, they were worthless.
Then, what did Abel have left to offer this man?
After the trials began, Abel had lost all of his divine power. He had been cast out of the temple where he was born and raised.
All that remained was his own body.
So then, if he offered his body, could he learn the man’s name?
Perhaps. The man had always looked at Abel with violent, dangerous eyes.
If Abel told him, “In exchange for your name, I’ll let you kill me,” would that not be a fair trade?
“I’ll give myself to you.”
It was, Abel thought, a logical bargain in its own way. But even as he lay dying, the man showed only disgust.
“…I don’t want it.”
It was the only thing he had left to offer.
Then, would Abel have to live the rest of his life never knowing the man’s name?
Deeply disappointed, Abel fell silent. The man, too, said nothing more.
And so, in that damp and stifling cave where they hid, silence pressed in on them from all sides.
The long silence, stretched thin until the breath cradled in his arms grew faint and all but vanished, was finally broken by the man.
“…Ryan.”
A whisper so soft it could only be heard with deliberate focus, spoken just before he closed his eyes.
He was dead. Abel, holding the now-lifeless body in his arms, murmured the name over and over, and then he realized—
He, who had never once shed a tear for anyone’s death, was crying for this man.
He let the tears fall freely, running down his cheeks without wiping them away.
Why was I so curious about your name?
Why did I insist on holding you as you died?
Why did your rejection wound me? Why could I never look away from you?
How did I remember the rumors about you? Why did I find myself reconsidering the reasons you hated me?
“I must have loved you.”
For the first time since he was born, Abel had come to love another human being.
And with that belated realization, the divine power he had lost returned.
The trial, one that could only be overcome by loving another, had finally come to an end.
As the strength surged back into him, Abel kissed the cold lips, still tasting of blood.
And he thought—
I wish I could have told you I loved you while you were still alive.
The sacred power that flooded the dark, filthy cave granted the wish of the one most beloved by the Father.
In the blink of an eye, Abel was returned to the past and looked back.
That dazzlingly beautiful face. Radiant golden hair. Clear blue eyes. And that unmistakable glare of hostility aimed directly at Abel.
Of all things, he remembered that look best.
It was him.
Without hesitation, Abel confessed his love.
“I love you, Ryan.”
“…My name is Felix.”
You gave me a fake name?
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