IIAD | Chapter 1.12

Heat rushed to Nika’s face. Even if it was customary, stripping naked in front of unfamiliar women and being attended to in a bath was something he found hard to accept.

It was only when Baran, unable to hold back any longer, let out a bright laugh that Nika and the maids realized he was there. The maids gasped in surprise and exclaimed, “Master!”—their tone carried a hint of reprimand.

And understandably so. Baran had stepped out of the bath midway, wearing only a loosely draped robe. It clung to his damp body, soaked through with water, revealing the shape of his torso, chest, and bare legs.

“Nika, is it uncomfortable having them attend to you?”

“……”

“Why are you avoiding my gaze?”

Baran figured it was probably because of the presence of women that Nika felt embarrassed. So, he dismissed the maids.

“Leave us.”

Now alone in the empty room, a faint scent of perfume lingered, likely an attempt to drive out the dust and mustiness from the long-unoccupied marchioness’s quarters. With his still-wet bare feet, Baran walked across the plush carpet, his eyes scanning the neatly arranged bed and the furnishings.

Just as he concluded that the room was more than suitable for Nika to stay in, Nika finally spoke.

“At least put some proper clothes on….”

His voice sounded more like a grumble than an actual complaint. At first, Baran didn’t quite catch what he meant, which made Nika raise his voice.

“You kept going on about how I’d catch a cold, yet look at yourself! Water’s dripping everywhere, and you’re practically naked.”

“Huh? Why are you mad?”

Caught off guard by Nika’s sharp retort, Baran asked, bewildered. Nika, his face flushed red, was breathing heavily in frustration. Since his complexion was naturally pale, even the slightest surge of emotion showed immediately. That, too, was quite adorable.

“Tie your robe properly first. If not, I won’t speak to you.”

With that, Nika abruptly turned his back to him.

Baran glanced up at the ceiling, then at the patterns on the wallpaper, then at the furniture—the bed, the sofa—and finally, at Nika’s beautiful black hair. A tingling sensation spread from his toes all the way up to his shoulders, like a jolt of electricity.

“No way. Are you seriously embarrassed because I’m half-naked?”

He glanced down at his own body—pale, covered in scars—then burst into laughter.

“Haha, this feels like we’re being all proper and polite with each other. It’s funny… and cute.”

Nika’s dark hair swayed with every shake of his head. Right now, it was swinging side to side—an outright refusal. But no matter how much he denied it, his entire body betrayed him. His expression, voice, the flicker in his eyes, even the slight tremble of his fingers resting on the sofa—all of it spoke the truth.

Baran found Nika so irresistibly cute that, without thinking, he pulled him into a tight embrace from behind. Wrapping one strong arm around his waist and clasping his hands together in front of Nika’s chest, he effectively locked him in place.

Startled, Nika nearly slapped him. Considering that he’d been caught off guard, the fact that he stopped at just a scream was already remarkable.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Nika shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Is it not allowed?”

Baran leaned his chest against Nika’s firm back, savoring the warmth. Nika squirmed, trying to break free. Everyone knew that if he truly wanted to, Baran wouldn’t have been able to hold him like this. But… maybe Nika himself didn’t realize that.

“Come on, cut me some slack. I even gave up all my chances to kiss you today….”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Nika looked like he wanted to bite his own tongue, realizing that no matter how much he tried to shut him up, Baran’s shameless words just spilled out like second nature.

The feeling of their backs and chests pressed together was unbearable. Nika shouted at him multiple times to back off, insisting that he couldn’t stand it. Baran, not wanting to force anything on him, let go sooner than expected.

“How long do you even plan on staying here? I need to bathe, and you need to get back before your bathwater gets cold.”

Nika grumbled in annoyance. He wanted nothing more than to strip off the stiff, unfamiliar high-quality shirt and those tight leather pants and sink into the steaming hot bath. With the maids sent away, he had planned to enjoy his bath alone. But Baran wasn’t making that easy.

Instead, he just stood there, eyes fixed on Nika, unwavering. And then, with a teasing smile, he added:

“If it’s the maids that make you uncomfortable, I could help.”

“No need.”

“So you’re planning to bathe alone?”

When Nika confirmed it, Baran clicked his tongue, disappointment evident. His expression was so openly disheartened that Nika’s cheeks felt like they had caught fire.

“Alright. Have it your way. You don’t have to bother with customs or whatever. I’ll let the maids know.”

Contrary to Nika’s expectations that Baran would keep pushing, he gave in surprisingly easily, saying he’d leave now.

But then, he suddenly paused, dipping his hand into the bathwater to check the temperature. After a moment, he muttered that more hot water was needed. Calling for a maid, he instructed her to bring in more warm water and took a beautifully crafted seolhwa-seokgo bottle from her arms.

With practiced ease, he scooped two spoonfuls of fragrant oil into the water and stirred it. A calming herbal scent filled the air.

“Wait until the maid returns and adjusts the temperature. The water’s gotten too cold.”

As he spoke, Baran didn’t have his usual noble air about him. Preparing bathwater wasn’t exactly the kind of task a dignified aristocrat should be familiar with. Nika stared at him in disbelief.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Changed your mind?”

“…You seem experienced.”

“Mmh.”

Normally, when answering Nika’s questions, Baran would launch into a full explanation, dragging out every detail and backstory. But this time, he held back.

“Yeah.”

Feeling Nika’s gaze still fixed on him, Baran turned and left the room. When the door shut behind him, hiding Nika’s dark eyes from view, he finally let out a quiet sigh.

Clenching his trembling fingers into a tight fist, he stood there for a long moment.

── .✦

Under the clear blue sky, the sound of trumpets rang loudly. It was a fanfare welcoming the triumphant procession.

On the grand avenue of Taltar, the duke’s faction nobles stood in neat rows, clapping and cheering as hooves clattered against the ground. From above, petals of blessing rained down upon them. The procession crossed a sturdy bridge over the moat and continued into The Lord of Taltar castle.

At the entrance, the Lord of Taltar stood barefoot, personally welcoming Duke Helin Hilben inside. Behind him, an old man stood with an air of self-importance—it was none other than Duke Sasavaran.

“Congratulations, Your Highness Hilben! You are truly the one foretold, the rightful dragon!”

With a pleased smile, Duke Sasavaran clapped his hands in welcome. The bald old man saw the future of the kingdom in the young duke. He had placed his absolute loyalty on the line—his five sons, his title, the wealth and land accumulated through generations of his house—all of it.

And his expectations were not misplaced. The duke had proven himself with one victory after another. The battlefield that had started far in the eastern stretches of the Dartalu River was now shifting steadily westward. After seven long years of civil war, the end was finally in sight.

Removing his helmet, the duke casually tied back his long hair and grinned. He was a man who treated his own people as warmly as he looked.

“You’ve come a long way, Duke.”

At the brief praise, the old man laughed heartily. If the duke hadn’t been wearing his gauntlets, Duke Sasavaran might have kissed his hand in sheer admiration.

Beside the duke, a steadfast knight bowed his head. He was Daltin Sasavaran, the second son of Duke Sasavaran and one of the duke’s closest subordinates.

“Father, have you been well?”

“Of course, you rascal. Have you been serving His Highness properly? As your father, I always worry whether this foolish son of mine is causing trouble for His Highness.”

“You jest. Lord Daltin Sasavaran is the finest knight I have.”

“Hahaha! Hearing that puts my mind at ease.”

Due to his chronic illness, Duke Sasavaran usually remained secluded in his southeastern estate. However, after Duke Hilben’s resounding victory at the Dartalu River, he had pushed himself to make the journey all the way to Taltar to witness the duke’s triumph firsthand.

Duke Hilben, humming in satisfaction, suddenly recalled something and spoke up.

“Ah, speaking of prophecies—I’ve heard that the southern gypsies have been spreading nonsense about a separate ‘dragon bloodline’.”

“Utterly ridiculous rumors, indeed. As a man from the South, I can tell you—this ‘return of the ancient dragon’ nonsense has been going around for a hundred years. It’s practically an annual tradition at this point. That’s just how gypsies are, aren’t they? Shamans, fortune-tellers—it’s all outdated superstition… Tsk, tsk.”

The duke stood still, letting his attendants remove his armor while listening to the old man’s ramblings. Though Duke Sasavaran had a tendency to prattle on, as was typical of southerners, he was a reliable source of information.

Letting the duke talk as much as he pleased, Duke Hilben took a deep breath, momentarily calming the fatigue and urges built up from the continuous battles.

As he idly tuned out the meaningless chatter, his gaze landed on the pale nape of a young attendant. A fresh wound, just beginning to scab, marked the boy’s skin.

“How did you get that injury?”

“Ah, um, Your Highness. My apologies… It happened during training.”

He reached out, pressing down on the wound with his fingers, his voice calm and detached.

The expression in his eyes revealed an innocent yet terrifying cruelty—the kind that could crush an insect underfoot without a second thought. Blood and wounds had always fascinated him. He was just about to split the wound open further, to tear it apart and examine it in detail, when Duke Sasavaran’s loud voice shattered the moment.

Duke Hilben furrowed his brows slightly.

“Shaman prophecies are complete nonsense!”

Whether or not the duke was actually listening, Duke Sasavaran continued spitting out words, fervently proclaiming that the prophecy’s so-called ‘dragon blood’ was all nonsense and that the only rightful ruler was Duke Helin Hilben.

Of course, to Duke Hilben, who was far more interested in the wound on his attendant’s neck, this was just more meaningless noise. At best, he offered Duke Sasavaran a faint smile in response.

“You see, Your Highness? Those charlatan gypsy prophets aren’t worth your time. Hah!”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

Turning back to the frozen, trembling attendant, Duke Hilben inhaled deeply, savoring the thick scent of blood with his keen dragon-blooded senses. A hazy, intoxicating sensation washed over him, as if he were drunk. His pupils narrowed.

Smiling, he leaned in and whispered so quietly it was barely louder than the wind.

“Come to my tent later.”

Enjoying the brief entertainment of watching his helpless prey tremble in fear.