RODH Chapter 77

77.

Nevan closed his weary eyes for a moment.

He already knew what Chloe’s next words would be.

Once blessed by Anna Tuatla, one could no longer survive outside the North.

For the first few years it might be tolerable, but after that, the end was always the same.

And so Chloe spoke the words Nevan least wanted to hear.

“He will slowly wither away.”

“……”

“Before the Emperor makes his move, you must quickly bring the young lord to the North and make him your duchess.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep hesitating?”

Chloe was frustrated.

If there had been no feelings between them, it would have been one thing. But Nevan was clearly already prepared to welcome him as family.

She had been shocked, honestly.

To embrace someone so tightly before others, as though crushing them—that was not something a Northerner did lightly.

‘He’s clearly far more deeply in love than I was told.’

She didn’t know how young Lord Ruben had managed to draw out such open emotions from Nevan, who almost never expressed them, but it was undeniable that he was remarkable.

After all, hadn’t he even conversed easily with Klain—someone most Northerners would rather avoid speaking to at all?

‘If he is such a person, then he deserves respect!’

Chloe suddenly felt a rush of purpose swell inside her.

She would make sure young Lord Ruben was brought to the North.

Even if the methods were… less than noble.

Before Nevan, who sat silently gazing into his tea, she quietly opened her recipe book.

Among its pages were the formulas for “Concealing the Blessing” and “Love’s Potion.”

* * *

That night.

Leaving behind the noisy palace filled with the festivities of the birthday celebration, Ian spent a secret moment with Nevan.

Leaning against the desk, the two shared a short kiss, then moved to the bed where their lips lingered a little longer.

When their hot tongues entwined and saliva mixed, Ian felt the prickling rush climb all the way to the tips of his hair.

Nevan’s lips slid down to his neck.

His back hit the wall near the bed a little roughly, but his head was safe—Nevan’s hand was holding the back of it.

“Nevan… ah!”

“Ian.”

The longer the caresses went on, the more impatient Ian became.

Instinctively, he pressed his lower body against Nevan’s.

Through the fabric, he felt something large and hard.

An urge overtook him—to tear it out immediately.

He yanked at Nevan’s shirt buttons as though ripping them off, grabbed him by the collar, and threw him onto the bed.

Then, straddling him, Ian exhaled the breath he had been holding back.

His heartbeat pounded wildly, like when he had run for training until his chest was ready to burst.

“Haa, haa.”

“Ian…”

Pinned beneath him, Nevan looked up with crimson eyes full of embarrassment and surprise, his chest exposed.

“I never imagined Your Grace would be so… indecent.”

Ian shamelessly stroked Nevan’s pale chest, teasing him.

“Uh—if you touch me like that…”

“Isn’t that what it’s there for?”

“Well, yes, but…”

The tips of Nevan’s ears flushed red.

Ah, my adorable Alpha.

Ian stripped him fully of his upper clothes.

Beneath that perfect chest, the sharp lines of his abdominal muscles showed clearly.

Especially the line running from his side down to his groin—so prominent it was impossible to look away.

Surely others admired his body every time they trained together.

Ian blamed Nevan for being so quick to undress.

“With a body like this, how do you walk around so casually?”

“Ian, this isn’t right…”

“In my bed, nothing is off-limits.”

Smiling brightly, Ian reached for his trousers.

He felt Nevan’s body stiffen.

Tonight, Ian was determined to finally take things to the end.

Now that they loved each other, what was there to hold back?

But just as his hand slipped lower, an unexpected voice interrupted.

“Young master.”

His whole body jolted.

He was sure he had been straddling Nevan, but when he blinked, the bright morning sunlight filled the room.

Damn it—so it was a dream…

Before the thought could fully register, Ian yanked the blanket over his head.

Bain was standing right in front of him, frowning curiously.

Ian asked hastily,

“B-Bain, did you draw the bathwater yet?”

“No, not yet. You usually eat breakfast first, then bathe.”

“Today I’ll do it the other way around. Fetch the water and leave me be—I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yes, understood. Um, young master.”

“Hm?”

Ian poked his head out from under the blanket and looked up.

Bain’s expression was unusually serious.

“You’re not… sick, are you?”

“Sick?!”

If anything, he was too healthy—that was the problem.

Once Bain finished preparing the bath and left, Ian carefully got up.

A wet dream.

“Haa…”

Fortunately, only his undergarments were soiled, something he could handle himself.

He sank into the warm bathwater and thought.

Nevan, as he had appeared in the dream, was like an incubus that fed on people’s vitality.

The bigger problem was his own words and actions.

—Uh, if you touch me like that…

—Isn’t that what it’s there for?

—How can you walk around so casually with a body like this?

—Ian, this isn’t right…

—In my bed, nothing is off-limits.

“Argh! Aaagh!”

Splash, splash!

As Ian thrashed his arms and legs, the bathwater sloshed everywhere.

“Damn it, Ian Pearl Ruben! What the hell was ‘nothing is off-limits in my bed’?!”

Even he couldn’t believe the ridiculous things he had said.

And yet, he couldn’t stop imagining what might have happened if it had been real.

Always, it was Nevan’s face he saw—flushed red, eyes soft with longing.

“Damn it! I’ve lost my mind!”

He slapped at the water’s surface.

After a long fit of frustration, Ian finally sat up straight, trying to recover his composure.

It would take a long time to fully come back to his senses.

* * *

The training grounds.

The Ruben family’s training yard was said to be second only to the imperial palace in quality.

At the invitation of the captain of the guard, Nevan had agreed to spar.

Whoosh! Crack!

The sound of wooden swords slicing the air and striking each other filled the yard.

At first, only a few knights had gathered to watch, but now even those on break crowded around to see.

Naturally, with such a gathering, Ian slipped in among them.

Up on the stage, the captain and Nevan crossed swords as though dancing.

Though Ian lacked the stamina to live as a knight, he had never abandoned the romance of it, and so he gaped in awe, eyes sparkling.

“Wow…”

Clash—scrape—then instantly, a counterattack.

Kicks used to break footwork, wild maneuvers to find openings.

The captain seemed to be using Nevan as a textbook example, showing the gathered knights how to fight and teaching through demonstration.

But Nevan looked as though he had come simply to train. He lifted his gaze briefly to the sky, then suddenly sped up.

And with a brief “Forgive me,” he mimed cutting the captain’s throat in an instant.

“I blocked that, I swear!”

Ian had seen it too—the captain blocking Nevan’s sword.

Yet with a sharp crack, the captain’s blade split clean down the middle.

“Ugh!”

“Captain!”

Knights rushed to his side.

Other than a bruised pride, he seemed unharmed.

Nevan slowly walked out of the training yard.

Behind him, the knights whispered,

“Truly monstrous skill. It must be true he killed the Demon Lord.”

“Indeed. Captain, are you all right?”

Their words weren’t wrong, but Ian bristled.

They made Nevan sound like nothing but a monster.

Ian ran after him.

“Nevan!”

At the sound of his voice, Nevan halted his wandering steps.

Up close, Ian noticed he was sweating lightly.

‘Is he hot, even in winter?’

Perhaps it was just from the sparring, Ian thought, as he quickly looped his arm through Nevan’s.

Nevan allowed it without resistance.

His skin was burning hot where they touched.

“Don’t I smell?”

“Smell?”

“Like sweat…” Nevan said cautiously.

He meant, surely, that if the smell bothered Ian, he shouldn’t cling so close.

But Ian didn’t care.

The endless bubbling stews in taverns, adventurers clashing in dungeons.

The heat of the training grounds, the fierce effort to be knighted.

All of it was enough to set Ian’s heart racing.

“It’s fine. I like the smell of sweat.”

“Do you.”

“Yes. Though foot odor, that might be a different matter.”

“As for feet…”

Nevan quietly admitted that Luke’s feet tended to smell quite bad.

It didn’t sound like mockery but rather something to make Ian laugh, and it worked—he giggled.

“In fact, even that captain suffers from it. When he can’t keep up with stamina drills, he makes the others wash his socks.”

Ian exaggerated the story into a joke, and Nevan’s lips curved in a faint smile.

The two, still joking, arrived at the water pumps.

“Wait.”

Nevan stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt.

Ian immediately clamped his eyes shut and turned away.

He could feel Nevan’s gaze on his back, but soon the sound of rushing water came instead.

The gushing flow cooled his head and body.

Normally he would have stopped after a moment, but since Ian had appeared unexpectedly, it took longer.

Nevan wiped himself roughly with his shirt, then pulled it back on piece by piece.

“All finished.”

“Y-yes…”

For some reason, Ian seemed to be avoiding his eyes.

They walked back in silence until they saw Chloe hurrying toward them.

“Young Lord Ruben, good morning. I came because I have something to give you.”