IIAD | Chapter 3.3

Having spent so much time bedridden, even the smallest movements made him dizzy. Baran swayed slightly as he walked toward the window, pressing a hand against the frame to steady himself. As always during this time of year, the landscape outside was bleak.

The servants had already started wearing their thick, quilted winter clothing. The added layers made them look twice their usual size.

Baran spotted the stable boy he had seen the other day, hunching his shoulders like a startled turtle as he scurried past. That sight made him chuckle.

“Yeah. Definitely smells like winter.”

“And Marquis, there’s one more thing—the Duke sent a directive. It arrived just today.”

“Go on.”

Baran replied in a bored tone, leaning against the window frame with no real interest.

The brief silence that followed made it clear what kind of message this was. It was nothing new. The Marquis of Taltamio, the Duke’s faithful hunting dog, was a sword that moved as its master commanded.

These abrupt letters, filled with orders disguised as casual requests, were just part of the routine.

“Where am I headed this time?” Baran sighed.

“…Taltamio.”

Baran raised an eyebrow and turned around.

Raymond, who had been nose-deep in the Duke’s letter—filled with terrible handwriting and barely any proper spelling—massaged the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted just from reading it.

“To be precise, the road between Taltamio and Longarden,” he clarified. “Ansalate is set to receive an import shipment from a merchant alliance—a shipment containing the bones of an ancient dragon. In a week, the convoy will pass through, and you are to intercept it and seize the bones. No mistakes.”

“Ugh. Dracoson bastards are always so weird about this stuff. They bare their fangs over some old bones like it’s a matter of life and death.”

“They want to solidify their legitimacy in the Dragon’s Grave, proving their bloodline is stronger. It’s all just another battle over royal succession.”

Baran nodded absentmindedly.

Raymond, deciding that was enough explanation, scratched the back of his head and stepped aside, giving Baran space. He probably figured that, in his current condition, there was no point in pushing him to start preparing just yet.

Baran let out a small laugh.

It was just another day.

── .✦

‘Because I like you, why wouldn’t I want a hug?’

With that opening remark from Baran, Nika realized he was dreaming. And he felt as if he might drown in his own disillusionment.

Despite not being able to control dreams at will, dreams are often a reflection of the subconscious. Had Nika been imagining such scenarios?

“Why are the clothes…”

He cut off his groan, overwhelmed by self-disgust.

“I’m sorry, Baran. To dream such things… I wasn’t always looking at you this way.”

Baran tilted his head in confusion, his pale body visible through the nearly transparent clothing he wore—garments that one might expect on dancers during a salacious performance at a banquet. Startled and unsure of himself, Nika felt Baran effortlessly climb onto his lap, his lips tracing a path up Nika’s pulsing neck.

Nika offered no resistance. His eyelids fluttered.

‘I swear I never intended to tarnish you.’

“Won’t you hug me, Nika?”

Baran’s flushed lips and handsome nose slipped between the slightly opened buttons of Nika’s shirt, pressing against his stomach. Caught between impulse and conscience, Nika felt his chest tighten with pain. A jolt of electricity coursed through his lower abdomen and waist, evoking a raw sensation.

“……”

When Nika abruptly woke from the dream, he found himself staring at the quiet, empty ceiling, engulfed in shame so intense he wanted to bite his tongue. The dilemma of how to deal with the stained sheets and underwear overwhelmed him. The maids who tended to his bed daily would surely notice.

The sound of knocking interrupted his distress—it was Matilda, who came each morning to bring fresh clothing and bathing water. Nika knew Matilda was not just a maid attending to a dragonkin like him; her duties went beyond that.

Not responding wasn’t going to resolve anything, and it would be rude to Matilda, who performed these menial tasks with such grace. With a voice that barely hid his mortification, Nika told her to come in.

Matilda, with decades of experience as a maid, had developed an exceptional intuition. Seeing Nika’s flushed face, she dismissed the other maids waiting to assist with the bath, leaving just the two of them in the room. Nika, unable to hide his embarrassment, spoke first.

“Thank you, Matilda.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Unable to hold back, Matilda let out a compassionate chuckle.

“Had a good dream, did you?”

“It’s not that…”

Matilda had raised the two lords of Taltamio from their youth. She handled the situation with such tact that by the time she had adjusted the bathwater to just the right temperature and Nika had hidden his reddening face, everything that needed to be addressed had been managed without further embarrassment.

Nika, scar-ridden, eased himself into the bath. He was never comfortable being naked in front of others, but Matilda’s warm, straightforward demeanor made it bearable. He watched her carefully as she lathered soap onto a sponge and began washing him.

“You’ll keep this a secret, right?”

“Of course, my lord. There’s no need to feel embarrassed. It’s natural. And who actively decides to dream anyway?”

Nika’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. Matilda did her best to assure him there was no need for guilt, but such assurances rarely penetrated Nika’s inherently pure nature.

As usual, when Baran later came looking for Nika, engrossed in a book he had brought from the study, Nika’s reaction was uncharacteristically sharp, and he startled at Baran’s approach.

“Nika. I’m feeling dizzy. Maybe I caught your cold.”

Baran burst through the door, his hand weakly resting on his forehead as he sighed deeply. Moved by concern, Nika quickly stood up. Baran spun around playfully, pretending the dizziness was worse than it was—a charming quirk that Nika found endearing. His expression softened.

Baran reached out to embrace Nika, looking up at him with a playful affection that reminded Nika of the dream version of Baran dressed provocatively. A tight sensation pulled in his abdomen, and before his lower body could betray him further, he hurriedly pushed Baran away. During the abrupt interruption of their tender embrace, Baran stumbled back, blinking in confusion.

“Why… What’s wrong? Did I do something again?”

“…No.”

It all happened reflexively. Nika couldn’t hide his surprise either. Just as he was about to apologize, Baran’s wide, blue eyes caught his attention in shock, and the sight of his golden hair, which he hadn’t dyed again and had grown a finger’s length since Nika said he didn’t care, made his heart tremble and his mouth involuntarily shut.

In the end, Nika couldn’t come up with a plausible excuse. He was out of his mind at the moment. If he were in his right mind, he shouldn’t have harbored such filthy desires towards his savior.

Nika completely lost trust in himself. To him, Baran Taltamio was more precious and grateful than anything in the world. He was so precious that sometimes he seemed almost holy. A beautiful and pure rose, an untouched expanse of white snow, and a person crafted from all the world’s beauty. Whenever Nika described Baran, he always felt his vocabulary was lacking.

Just standing by his side, observing his little habits, and occasionally hearing the too-generous words ‘I love you’ were enough. He was already too happy to the point of being scared.

‘My Nika.’

That should be enough. Know your place, Nika told himself. There was no need to be greedier. Baran had said he loved him. Among many lies, that was genuinely true. He needed to be content.

He should not even accidentally reveal the miserable and stinky possessiveness that grew from the abyss. He had to show only his clean and good side to Baran, because if Baran saw how rotten he was inside, it would be troublesome if he decided to throw him away.

‘I know better.’

Nika buried his face in his palms.

‘I know better, yet I indulge in these thoughts, these dreams. I’m truly the worst.’

“Nika.”

Baran always drew out his words like this when he wanted to catch Nika’s attention, like a house cat seeking notice. It had an inexplicably sexy vibe to it. Nika’s ears turned red.

“I pushed Raymond aside just to see you, Nika.”

“I’m sorry, so sorry, Baran. You better head back today.”

Will the day ever come when he’s immune to this adorableness? Ultimately, Nika hurriedly sent Baran away with a desperate dismissal. As he caught his breath, the voice that kept saying “Nika” echoed from his left ear to his right, repeating in his head until he was breathless with an impending headache.

Every night, too many dreams plagued his mind, and Nika woke up with a headache each morning. In his dreams, he was usually storming battlefields or decked out in armor inside a lavishly adorned castle. Today’s dream was a mix of both.

Nika agilely climbed the majestic fortifications and slaughtered the soldiers. Calling them soldiers was almost embarrassing because they were so poorly equipped. They didn’t even know how to hold a sword properly or stand sideways. They were undoubtedly untrained peasants.

The smell of blood was so vivid it made him nauseous. Even though it was just a dream, the smallest details that his gaze fell on were delicate and robust, unlike the ordinary, wavering, and changing dreams.

Suddenly, Nika held someone’s head in his hand. It still had the warmth of life. The brown tangled hair he gripped was soaked with blood from the neck, red as Baran’s dyed hair. The lifeless blue eyes and parted lips revealing a dead tongue sent shivers down his spine. Yet, he did not loosen his grip on the hair.

“I’ve taken down the leader, Claten. It should be over soon.”

“Well done, Dragon Knight.”

Bystanders threw jeers or cheers as they passed him by. Nika found it odd to receive applause just for beheading someone unknown.

The frantic sound of horse hooves echoed at the entrance of the fort, filled with bodies piled up like mountains. A knight aimed his bow at an unidentified visitor.

“State your identity!”

“I know him.”

Nika raised his hand to stop him. The knight spat contemptuously and lowered his bow. As the blond youth approached, breathing heavily, Nika stored the leader’s head in a box brought by a servant. He turned to look at the young man, whose face was so pale it was indistinguishable. Yet, he understood the young man was engulfed in sorrow because he seemed to be sobbing between clenched teeth.

“Your brother didn’t even beg for his life.”