IIAD | Chapter 3.2

Well, it made sense. Since leaving that mansion a year ago, he had grown significantly taller and had developed a strong physique through rigorous sword training.

“But it seems Marquis Taltamio is not particularly fond of sweets,” Nika remarked. “Despite today’s dessert being quite excellent, he hasn’t touched it at all.”

As soon as the conversation turned to him, Baran instinctively shifted his gaze and looked around. Every woman seated at the round table was staring at him intently. Some even fluttered their fans, sending him subtle, suggestive glances.

But Baran had been too focused on Nika to hear what the princess had said. Feeling embarrassed, he asked hesitantly.

“What did you say?”

“Oh my, ignoring a lady’s words? Marquis, you’re ruder than I expected.”

“It’s alright, madam,” Princess Suri interjected, her tone light and playful. “He’s been staring at my dragonkin knight all this time. He must find him fascinating. We can all relate, can’t we? When you see a strange beast from a traveling menagerie for the first time, your attention naturally gets drawn to it.”

The princess spoke as if she were showing off an exotic possession.

“Is this your first time seeing a dragonkin?”

Even as the princess asked, Baran’s eyes were not on her but on Nika.

Nika’s face was burning with humiliation. His glare turned toward Baran, sharp and seething, as if he was ready to kill him on the spot. But to Baran, it felt like misplaced anger.

Of course, Nika wouldn’t dare direct that anger at the woman he adored.

Before long, he cast his gaze downward, eyes nearly touching the tips of his shoes. Baran recognized that familiar motion—swallowing down anger, forcing himself to endure.

That day, by sheer coincidence, Baran and Nika had a rare moment alone.

As they strolled through the greenhouse, Baran occasionally chimed in, giving appropriate responses as Princess Suri rambled about her vast knowledge of horticulture. Then, in a show of exclusivity, she declared that she would share a special floral tea—something only women could truly appreciate—with the gathered noblewomen, disappearing beyond the hedges with them.

Baran despised being ignored, but he had no reason to linger among those women who had clearly dismissed him.

Besides, he had already grown weary of their subtle teasing—furtive touches under the guise of adjusting their gloves, feathery brushes of their fans veiling suggestive smiles. The whole charade was tedious and bothersome.

“You seem to like the color red, Lord Nika,” Baran remarked suddenly. “You’ve been staring at those red roses for quite some time now.”

“……”

With his hands behind his back, Baran flashed a smile, looking every bit like a prince straight out of a fairy tale.

Nika, caught off guard, held his gaze for a moment before offering a brief nod of acknowledgment.

He reached out, running his fingers over the climbing roses that twined around the arched trellis. He said nothing more.

And yet, standing beside him, Baran felt insignificant, as if he had no power to pull Nika from his thoughts. He knew exactly who Nika was thinking about as he gazed at those deep crimson roses.

“…Wouldn’t blonde be better?” Baran asked, his tone deliberately casual.

“What do you mean by that?” Nika’s voice was wary.

“Just what I said. Don’t you think blonde looks better? It usually does. Red hair and freckles—that’s such a tacky combination.”

At that, Nika’s grip on his sword hilt tightened. If Baran hadn’t been the princess’s guest, Nika might have cut him down right then and there. The hostility in his eyes was unmistakable.

Baran had anticipated his reaction. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking that way about the princess in front of Nika. He never could.

Baran curled his lips into a smirk.

“I’m not wrong, am I?”

“If you value your life, I’d suggest you watch your tongue,” Nika growled. “And for the record, I much prefer Her Highness’s red hair over your lecherous golden locks.”

Nika’s words carried a weight of frustration—the kind of loneliness that came with suffering alone.

── .✦

“Right now, I like red hair…”

Nika instinctively knew how to soothe a lover’s heart.

“But it doesn’t mean anything. If you dyed your hair another color, I’d probably end up liking that one just as much. What I like is you, not your hair color.”

That line successfully struck a chord in his demanding lover’s heart. Baran mulled over it a few times before breaking into a satisfied smile. Normally, the impact of emotional words dulled over time. But that wasn’t the case for Baran.

Every time Nika said he liked him, Baran couldn’t just brush it off—he was thrilled, almost giddy. His restless fingers fidgeted beneath the covers, making the blankets shift ever so slightly.

Nika couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. Cute.

He wasn’t sure if he had only thought it or if he had actually said it out loud.

“Then I guess I’ll stop with the red hair,” Baran muttered.

“Alright.”

“It was because of you anyway. You once said my blond hair made me look like a playboy.”

“No way.”

Nika had laughed lightly, assuming it was a joke. But when he met Baran’s deep, unwavering gaze, his expression stiffened.

“…Did I really say that?”

“Who knows? What do you think?”

Peeking out from under the blankets, Baran slowly crawled over and settled himself on top of Nika’s stomach. His hands, moving with practiced ease, pressed lightly against Nika’s thighs and the curve of his hip bone.

With every touch, Nika’s face grew redder. When Baran teasingly asked if he was embarrassed, Nika stubbornly insisted it was just a fever.

Maybe it was because of that night when they had clung to each other for warmth in the middle of a storm, but Baran had become much bolder. He was no longer the awkward boy who hesitated at every touch.

As he observed Nika, practically drowning in embarrassment, Baran’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.

Then, in the next moment, a warm kiss landed on his lips. For a brief second, Nika wondered—had he lost control of himself and kissed Baran without thinking? But no.

The damp heat brushing against his lower lip was unmistakable.

Baran’s tongue flicked lightly over his skin, and his thighs tightened around Nika’s waist, sending a subtle, ticklish sensation through him.

Even the way Baran exhaled shakily against his skin, tousled shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders—it was all too clear. Everything about this was a blatant act of seduction.

Caught off guard, Nika pressed a hand against Baran’s shoulder, pushing him away. Normally, Baran would have backed off immediately and even apologized.

But this time, things were a little different.

“W-Wait a second.”

Nika’s lips, slightly damp, pressed together into a firm line. Baran, clearly displeased, gazed at him with damp, frustrated eyes. When he tried to dive in for another kiss, Nika shut him up by clamping a hand over his mouth.

With his lips covered, any words Baran tried to say simply vibrated against Nika’s palm. After a brief pause, Nika sighed and gently kissed the back of his own hand, right where it touched Baran’s lips. Their noses brushed together lightly.

“I said wait a second. You’ll catch my cold. Take this instead, just for today.”

“Urgh…”

Nika placed another quick kiss on his hand before finally moving it away.

That seemed to do the trick. Baran instantly quieted down, his voice turning soft and sulky.

“…Sorry. I’m pathetic. I just couldn’t help myself.”

His earlier persistence now seemed ridiculous as he held up both hands in surrender. The lingering heat between them, the awkward tangle of limbs—it all dissipated when Raymond barged into the room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, clinging to each other like that in front of the servants?”

The sharp scolding had Baran pouting dramatically as he clamped his hands over his ears. He glanced at Nika and stuck out his tongue playfully, as if to say, See? He’s always like this.

Raymond practically dragged Baran out of the room, half against his will.

Once the chaos settled, Nika reached for the herbal medicine sitting untouched on the bedside table. Even if medicine doesn’t work well on a dragonkin, a little help is better than nothing.

He needed to get better as soon as possible.

── .✦

Seeing the two men acting like love-struck teenagers in their first romance irritated Raymond to no end. He was already in a foul mood over Baran skipping the banquet, and this only made things worse.

As soon as they left Nika’s room, Raymond let loose his irritation without restraint. His straw-like, dull hair and the dark circles under his eyes made his exhaustion painfully obvious. Even the faintest hint of guilt—something he rarely felt—crept up in Baran’s chest, making him almost want to confess out of sheer pity.

“To think you finally decided to leave, only for me to have to chase you down and drag you back.”

Raymond grumbled as he shut the bedroom curtains.

“No, let’s say it right. You didn’t just come back—you practically clung to Lord Nika the whole way here. And with some ridiculous injury on your shoulder, no less.”

“It was a pack of wild dogs. There were at least ten of them.”

“So, in short, you got bitten by a dog! If you were going to get mauled by a wild animal as an excuse to skip, couldn’t you have at least picked something more impressive? A pack of stray mutts? Seriously?”

Raymond let out a hysterical screech, raking his fingers through his hair. He grumbled that his employer—who was supposed to represent the Duke—had returned, not from battle, but after being chewed on by dogs.

His sharp words made Baran’s eyebrow twitch, but he held back his temper with admirable restraint.

“This wasn’t something you could just skip lightly. You knew that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I screwed up. I admit it, no excuses.”

Despite his sharp tone, Raymond was still carefully rewrapping the bandages around Baran’s shoulder. It would take a while before it healed completely.

Baran lazily shrugged into his robe, tying it loosely around his bare chest before asking,

“What did you tell the Duke?”

“What else? I had your seal stamped on a message and sent it off with a carrier pigeon. Said you were attacked by wild beasts on your way and lost consciousness. Not entirely a lie, I suppose.”

“He won’t just let this slide.”

“We both know how he is. But winter is fast approaching, so he won’t be making any reckless moves. Taltamio might not be as brutal as Northwall, but it’s still a harsh northern territory.”

Baran instinctively turned toward the window at those words.

“And this year, the cold is coming faster than usual.”