TPWTM 10

Luces hurriedly crossed the long corridor and rushed through the garden. The young marquis followed closely behind.

“Luces! Luces Graham!”

No matter how much the young marquis called, Luces didn’t stop. Finally, to maintain some semblance of dignity, the young marquis stopped his half-jog and sprinted, grabbing Luces’s arm with a yank.

Only then could he see Luces’s face. Luces was crying, tears streaming from bloodshot eyes. The young marquis let out a deep sigh, looked at Luces with an irritated expression, then cautiously pulled him into an embrace.

Since childhood, his frail younger brother had been a delicate child who needed to be handled like a finely crafted Yuri ornament. Suppressing his rising anger, the young marquis spoke.

“Luces, what’s wrong with you? Talk to your hyung.”

After patting his back for a while, Luces sniffled and looked up. He gazed at the young marquis, teary-eyed.

“Hyung… is this right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This situation. I just… Sir Yurik, caught up in absurd rumors…”

“Luces, what’s so absurd about the rumors? The entire empire knows those two are getting married.”

“But… but!”

“Luces. Who gave you permission to use their names? Did those two allow you to address them so casually? That’s where you’re already being rude. Calling someone you’re not close to by their name like that.”

Luces, sobbing, shook his head as if it were nonsense. He shouted as if screaming.

“Her Majesty Empress Bistet said that I, Luces Graham, would marry Sir Karon Chevinelle!”

At Luces’s words, the young marquis’s expression, which had been looking at him with pity, hardened instantly.

“What… what did you say?”

“Hyung, Her Majesty has already chosen Sir Karon Chevinelle’s match! It’s me, Luces Graham! She said it would be announced at the victory banquet… Hyung, who’s the one misunderstanding now?”

The grip on Luces’s arm loosened. The young marquis rubbed his mouth with his hand, lost in thought.

Luces, his strength drained, sank to the ground, clutching Yurik’s handkerchief and sobbing.

“…Did Father completely side with the empress?”

The young marquis’s mind began to race. Karon Chevinelle was nominally part of the empress’s faction.

Politically speaking, marrying into the neutral Windsor family would only bring prestige, no tangible benefits. Unless, as Karon claimed, it was truly for “love.”

Empress Bistet had chosen his brother as Karon’s match. A strange glint appeared in the young marquis’s eyes.

Perhaps this situation could turn completely in Luces’s favor.

• ~ *

The incident seemed to settle with Karon’s appearance. Yurik, thrust into the spotlight of the social gathering, was forced to endure all the attention alongside Karon.

After finally greeting Countess Offenia and weathering the barrage of questions from excited nobles, Yurik could rest on a sofa in the corner of the hall.

Karon, with a smug expression, leaned on the sofa’s armrest, smirking as he watched Yurik sip tea irritably.

Yurik looked like an angry cat with its fur standing on end. Of course, if Karon said this aloud, he’d get looks saying, “This lunatic’s finally lost his eyes too.”

“Why so cranky, our Young Earl?”

Yurik glared at Karon, then elegantly sipped his tea.

“Thanks to some thick-headed fool who not only showed up late but also announced our marriage on a whim, I’m in quite a low mood.”

“Oh dear, having to marry such a reckless fool must be quite vexing.”

“Indeed. No matter how sarcastically I speak, he doesn’t listen, so I’m at a loss for how to train him…”

“Train, huh? That sounds a bit naughty.”

“There’s something wrong with your head—every word goes in that direction. Perhaps you’re hard of hearing?”

“For us, this level of understanding is pretty good.”

“Honestly…”

Yurik started to say more but held back. Talking only burned him up inside. He drank his tea irritably and set the cup down on the tea table. Unaware that Karon was thoroughly enjoying his obvious frustration.

Karon leaned closer to Yurik and spoke.

“Is my betrothed upset because I was late?”

“Being late happens. I’m not some petty child who’d get mad over that.”

“Haha, your eyes are practically brimming with rage, yet you say you’re not.”

“Do you have a habit of not taking words at face value?”

“After so long in high society, I guess I’m used to reading between the lines.”

Karon laughed heartily. Yurik laughed too. Though his eyes were full of irritation, to outsiders, they looked like betrothed partners laughing peacefully together.

Yurik, annoyed but mindful of appearances, subtly pushed Karon, who was leaning too close, with his shoulder. Karon, resisting, trembled slightly at the lips. Just then.

Among the nobles hesitating to approach their veiled power struggle, Lawson, claiming to be Yurik’s friend, appeared with a group of alpha nobles.

“Phew, who do we have here? The noble prince of the north, Sir Yurik Windsor, and the empire’s living romance, Sir Karon Chevinelle, his betrothed!”

Lawson spread his arms dramatically. Yurik, signaling for quiet, put a finger to his lips. Lawson grinned and mimed zipping his mouth.

Karon stood with a sly grin, playing along.

“The living romance, now a captured rogue, Karon Chevinelle, at your service.”

Karon’s theatrical bow made Lawson and the group burst into laughter. Thanks to their gathering, Yurik had no choice but to stand and move with Karon.

Seated on the outdoor terrace, they lit cigars and let conversation bloom.

Yurik, responding appropriately, glanced at Karon.

Despite being sent to the southern front right after graduating from the academy, with little time to mingle with central noble heirs, Karon conversed with them like decade-long friends.

His formal shirt’s top button was undone, and his jacket hung on the chair in the warm weather. Yurik smirked, thinking, typical, and puffed his cigar.

After some banter, talk turned to the southern front’s achievements at the victory banquet. Romente, an academy peer who hadn’t fought, flicked cigar ash and asked Karon curiously.

“So, I’m curious, Sir Chevinelle, what did His Highness the First Prince promise you? I’m asking purely out of curiosity, so answer freely.”

“I was wondering that too. You were the commander of the knights guarding His Highness at the front. Surely you were promised something big? What’s being granted at the victory banquet?”

The group’s attention focused on Karon. He smirked, crossed his legs, and casually scanned the group.

Their faces were alive with curiosity. Spotting Yurik smoking indifferently, Karon glanced at him and began.

“Well… I can’t divulge anything important.”

“Of course not! That’s not what we’re asking.”

Lawson chuckled, leaning in eagerly, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Romente added, “Exactly. We’re not curious about that. We want to know what you’ll ‘publicly’ receive at the victory banquet. His Highness isn’t one to overlook his knights’ contributions.”

“The banquet’s just days away, and you can’t wait?”

“Come on, we’re curious! And isn’t there more to it?”

“You just said that wasn’t it.”

“I mean, something juicy enough to spread as gossip.”

Erwin, sitting beside Lawson, urged Karon with a refined expression.

Karon straightened in his chair and answered with a question.

“Then what do you all want? What do you hope to gain for your achievements? Land? Wealth? Honor? Power? A beautiful omega? Ha, those are too obvious.”

“Come on, what else is there to want!”

“I already have it all.”

Karon’s confident grin made everyone burst out laughing. He wasn’t wrong. While they laughed, Yurik gave a faint nod but couldn’t laugh fully.

Karon was, literally, a man who had everything. The fact that such a man was entering a contract marriage with an alpha like him, not a beautiful omega… Yurik felt a slight pang. A contract, a marriage.

Yurik lifted his cigar and stepped away from the lively group. Leaning on the terrace railing, he puffed smoke deeply.

Karon, while conversing, kept watching him.

The conversation grew livelier, shifting to politics, with everyone excitedly chiming in. Karon, stepping back, participated lightly.

Then, a knock came from the terrace door’s window, and a handsome noble youth smiled at the alpha group.

Lawson recognized him.

“Oh, isn’t that Young Master Helmaer?”

“Countess Offenia says she’s brought fine-blooded horses from the Valumen Kingdom. A few are up for auction, and she’s offering a preview. I came to ask if you’d like to join us for a walk to see them. We’re going too.”

Helmaer turned slightly, revealing noble daughters and omega heirs behind him. The noble heirs exchanged glances, and Lawson stood up enthusiastically.

“Let’s go! I was getting bored anyway. Right?”

“Absolutely. The weather’s perfect for a walk.”

Laughing, they looked to Karon like lust-driven fools, but… well, he followed along. He saw Lawson dragging Yurik along. Sitting and listening to the rowdy nonsense of energetic youths had been boring anyway.

Seeing Karon stand, Helmaer blushed and beamed. Karon gave him a habitual grin. The noble heirs decided to stroll around the lake to the stables.

Yurik, with a sullen expression, trailed slowly at the back. After Karon’s surprise announcement, no one approached him.

Well, what omega would approach an alpha marrying another alpha? Yurik smirked.

Oddly, though, many thought they had a shot with Karon, as noble daughters and heirs flocked to him. Yurik scanned them, strolling slowly by the lake.

Leslie Ardermond was among the leading group. Previously rejected harshly by Yurik, he was still bitter. He glanced at Yurik walking alone.

“Hmph, calling me cheap, and who’s the one playing around now?”

Leslie scoffed and spoke to Yurik.

“Sir Windsor, it’s been a while. Have you been well?”

I’ve been miserable because of you, but you’ve been sleeping soundly, huh? Yurik smirked and nodded.

“Isn’t that Sir Ardermond? What’s there to be unwell about? I’ve been fine. You must’ve had a hard time with all the noise around you.”

How did you even show your face after that embarrassment? Leslie gritted his teeth and smiled.

“Thanks to you, Sir Windsor, I’ve been doing quite well. Your fame’s been spreading across the empire, and I’ve heard all about it. You always seem so busy.”

Translation: I heard your rumors. Your face is in the empire’s papers every day, huh? Must be nice being gossip fodder.

Yurik smiled brightly.

“Busy, yes. Managing imperial affairs, and… dealing with pesky flies that cling to me. Oh, with summer nearing, there’s so many sticking around. You hate bugs, don’t you? So do I.”

Translation: Do better, you lowlife. (Heavily softened.)

“Haha, it’s still chilly in the mornings and evenings, so I don’t see many bugs. Unlike some people. I’m refined, so bugs don’t stick to me. Unlike some people. Haha. But I’m a bit worried.”

Leslie moved closer to counter Yurik. Yurik raised an eyebrow. Leslie smiled dazzlingly, eyes narrowed.

“They say alphas don’t get wet down there… So what’s your resolve, sir? Sir Karon isn’t as small as you might think. Quite, quite large, I hear.”

Translation: I slept with your man, and he’s huge. But you’re an alpha. Are you the bottom? Hilarious.

Yurik’s expression hardened instantly. Leslie, unfazed by Yurik’s cold stare, smiled brightly.

“I’m just worried about you, sir. Was I too forward? But maybe I could help? I mean, experience-wise… I’m on top.”

Yurik stopped walking. Leslie stopped too. His heart skipped a beat. Had he gone too far, considering the Windsor family? But Leslie didn’t back down. He thought Yurik would have no comeback. But Yurik wasn’t your typical hotheaded alpha, and Leslie forgot that for a moment.

“Not everyone picks up a used rag, Sir Leslie.”

Yurik grabbed Leslie’s cravat. Leslie’s face was pulled close, inches away. Leslie’s eyes widened, and he held his breath.

Despite the offense, Yurik’s face was dangerously captivating. Yurik scanned Leslie’s face coldly, a slight smirk forming.

“Experience?”

Yurik’s hand slid to Leslie’s waist, brushing near his tailbone.

“Well… I could learn a thing or two from you…”

Yurik tilted his head slightly. The angle was perfect, leaving Leslie speechless. This man was attacking with his face.

Yurik whispered silently into Leslie’s ear with a small laugh.

“Would I feel anything sticking it in a worn-out hole? I’m an alpha with desires… I know the thrill of being with a pure omega.”

Translation: You filthy rag… (rest omitted).

Yurik’s smile faded, and he pushed Leslie away. With a contemptuous glance, as if looking at vermin, he moved to join the group ahead. Leslie stood dazed, blinking.

The visual shock of Yurik’s face up close was overwhelming, and his whispered words were outrageous! Who’s the used rag?

Leslie stomped his foot. If he’d actually slept with Karon, he wouldn’t be this angry. He glared at Yurik’s back, swallowing his rage.

• ~ *

Karon, casually responding to bothersome nobles, walked slowly with hands behind his back. He occasionally glanced back to check on Yurik, who was now held up by some omega.

Karon snorted.

“No surprise there… but it’s annoying.”

Karon frowned slightly at the unintended irritation. He knew he wasn’t the only one who found Yurik’s platinum hair enticing or his eyes gem-like. But still, they were supposed to be engaged, so wasn’t it rude to approach him like that?

Karon thought this while ignoring the nobles fawning over him.

As he walked, someone pushed through the crowd and approached him. Standing beside him, the man cleared his throat, seeing Karon lost in thought, and called him. Karon turned to see who it was.

“…Oh.”

Karon was slightly surprised. It was the young Marquis Graham, who had fled with Luces earlier.

The young marquis, awkward under the staring eyes, held his head high and spoke to Karon.

“I have something to say.”

“Go ahead.”

“Not here…”

“Hm.”

The young marquis trailed off, wary of onlookers. Karon tilted his head, slowing his pace. The group moved ahead.

Yurik, talking behind, looked at the young marquis with a slightly surprised expression but only nodded and passed by. After Leslie and the group moved further, the young marquis spoke.

“Her Majesty the Empress personally introduced my brother, Luces Graham… I want to confirm your intentions directly.”

“Intentions?”

They slowed but soon reached the stables, as did Karon and the young marquis. The young marquis, watching the stablehand bring out a horse, waited anxiously for Karon’s reply.

Karon narrowed his eyes, inspecting the horse. From the Valumen Kingdom, the black horse looked well-bred. Solid muscles, large frame, glossy coat.

Seeing Karon distracted, the young marquis pressed again.

“Sir Chevinelle. I’m asking your intentions. About our Luces…”

Karon smirked again.

“Intentions?”

Leslie, struck by a sudden idea, noticed the three horses the stablehand brought out.

The group gathered closely, chattering about the horses. Leslie checked Yurik’s position. Seeing him near the horses, Leslie turned and reached out. To the middle horse. And pinched its rear hard.

Neigh!

“Kyaaa!”

“Argh!”

The chestnut horse in the middle reared up in surprise, lifting its front hooves. Screams erupted from the gathered nobles. Yurik stared at the horse, which was rearing as if it would trample him.

The hooves thrashed wildly, descending to crush him! Yurik’s eyes widened, frozen in place, but at the last moment, he managed to twist his body. However, the hoof grazed his shoulder.

“Ugh…!”

As Yurik fell from the impact, the nobles scattered like a swarm of bees.

“Yurik!”

Lawson screamed.

Karon reacted instantly. As the horse reared, he sprinted toward Yurik.

Neigh! Neigh!

“Whoa! Easy, easy!”

Pushing through the retreating crowd, Karon grabbed the startled horse’s reins with lightning speed. As if he’d handled such situations many times, he calmed the horse with practiced ease.

Thanks to his efforts, the horse settled quickly, snorting softly. Karon handed the reins to the stablehand and rushed to Yurik.

Yurik, collapsed, clutched his shoulder. His sleeve was torn to shreds by the hoof.

“Sir Windsor!”

“Y-Yurik!”

Ignoring the approaching nobles’ calls and hands, Karon helped Yurik to his feet.

Yurik clenched his teeth, swallowing the pain. His eyes were squeezed shut, and agony was etched on his face. Karon gestured sharply at the nobles blocking his path with a menacing expression.

“Move.”

Intimidated by his forcefulness, the concerned nobles stepped back. Karon quickly pulled Yurik into his arms and moved.

The young Marquis Graham blocked his path again. Urging Karon, he pressed, “Sir Chevinelle! You still haven’t answered! I want your intentions!”

“Intentions?”

Karon’s lips twisted. Pushing the young marquis’s shoulder, he glared at him coldly.

“It seems someone else needs a doctor right now.”

The young marquis stared blankly at Karon’s back as he supported Yurik and walked away. Other nobles hurriedly followed.

“Haa.”

The young marquis let out a hollow sigh.

Karon had spoken through his actions. But… the young marquis smirked.

“What nonsense.”

He was incredulous. Karon was doing something absurd. Love, for the empire’s notorious rogue? A twisted smile formed on the young marquis’s lips.

As if a high noble would need such a thing.

• ~ *

“Urgh…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just hold on a little longer.”

Yurik, gritting his teeth, glanced at Karon supporting him. Karon, holding him up, looked more panicked than Yurik himself. His grip was tense with strength.

Ignoring Countess Offenia’s questions about what happened, Karon urgently called for his carriage and helped Yurik inside. Lawson, following behind, explained to everyone that Yurik was injured. Countess Offenia rushed over, shocked.

As Karon settled Yurik in and was about to climb in and close the door, the countess asked in alarm, “Young Earl, is the young earl alright? Heavens, how could this happen in my house…!”

“Indeed.”

Karon glanced at Leslie, pale among the nobles following the countess, his cheek twitching.

“You should be more selective with your guests in the future.”

“Young Duke? What do you mean…”

“I’ll be going now. It’s urgent.”

Without further explanation, Karon slammed the carriage door shut. He roughly knocked on the driver’s seat, and the coachman understood immediately, setting the carriage in motion. Yurik, sweating coldly, sat across from Karon with his eyes tightly shut. Karon, assessing Yurik’s condition, leaned closer and swiftly untied Yurik’s cravat.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking your injury.”

Karon moved to Yurik’s side, resting Yurik’s head on his shoulder. Carefully, he unbuttoned Yurik’s shirt. Not wanting to cause more shock by removing it, Karon slipped his hand inside to check if the collarbone was broken.

A reddish bruise had already crept up to Yurik’s neckline, but the collarbone seemed intact. The shoulder and upper arm, however, were concerning. Yurik couldn’t lift his arm and was trembling. The swelling was already visible. Karon, seeing this, clenched his teeth and rebuttoned the shirt.

Yurik, head buried in Karon’s shoulder, asked in a shaky voice, “How… is it?”

“You know better than I do how much it hurts.”

“The pain… it’s so bad, I can’t tell.”

“We’ll get you properly examined at the estate. I have a personal physician, reputed to be excellent, so don’t worry.”

“The ducal house is something else… having a physician…”

“Stop talking nonsense and lean on me.”

“I’m fine.”

“The carriage is shaking, it’ll hurt.”

Yurik, still sweating and biting his lip to endure the pain, was clearly struggling. Karon gently pulled Yurik’s uninjured shoulder, making him lean against him.

Yurik flinched and tried to push Karon away, but Karon’s strength prevailed. Held tightly by Karon’s arm around his waist, Yurik had no choice but to rest his head on Karon’s shoulder. Indeed, leaning against him in the jolting carriage was better than sitting alone.

Upon arriving at the Chevinelle estate, Karon immediately called for the physician. The butler, Ash, gaped in shock at seeing Karon enter with Yurik but dutifully took Karon’s coat.

Karon said, “Ash, prepare the bedroom right away.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get it ready immediately.”

Ash rushed upstairs, calling a maid to prepare towels and a water basin. He headed to tidy the young master’s bedroom, not a guest room. The head maid, following to help, grabbed Ash’s arm.

“Butler? The guest room is over there.”

“That’s not it.”

Ash shushed the head maid, signaling her to be quiet. She tilted her head but followed him.

In the reception room, Karon worked to remove Yurik’s jacket before the physician arrived, careful not to move his arm. Struggling, he finally said to a fidgeting servant, “Scissors.”

“Yes, sir!”

The servant handed over scissors as if prepared. Karon cut the sleeve without hesitation.

“The Chevinelle house can afford a few fine suits, so please bear with me today.”

Yurik had no strength to respond. The torn jacket revealed a severely swollen shoulder.

Just then, a bespectacled physician rushed in with a medical bag, looking flustered by the sudden call.

“Young master’s hurt? Who in the world slapped our sturdy young master?!”

“Who said that? Come check him, Ben.”

Karon snapped irritably at Ben’s nonsense. Ben then noticed Yurik sitting upright on the sofa and approached, opening his medical bag on the table. Lifting Yurik’s shirt, he frowned.

“How did this happen?”

“Got kicked by a horse’s hoof.”

Karon answered for him. The shoulder, visible through the torn shirt, was in bad shape, bruised purple. Ben carefully began examining Yurik’s shoulder.

“…!”

As Yurik groaned silently, Karon brushed his cheek.

“Really, your pride…”

That noble spirit, even in such a moment. Pitying Yurik’s lip-biting, Karon frowned. After assessing, Ben said to Karon, “It’s dislocated. The inflammation’s severe, so we’ll need to drain blood. Local anesthesia or a sedative incense would be best.”

Karon nodded. Yurik, listening, spoke quietly.

“Just do it.”

“Pardon?”

Ben jumped at Yurik’s words. Cut into raw flesh without anesthesia? He looked between Karon and Yurik as if the patient was spouting nonsense. Yurik, pale but composed, stared back.

Ben, flustered, asked again, “It’s not just a simple cut… It’s dislocated, yes, but… to realign the arm, and with the muscle damage…”

“Just do it. There’s no choice.”

Karon stared at Yurik, who was being unnecessarily stubborn. This wasn’t a man who showed off like this.

“Is there another reason?”

At Karon’s question, Yurik hesitated, sighed softly, and said, “Sedatives and such… they don’t work on me.”

“Huh?”

“Medications don’t work well on me. When I was young, even a cold meant suffering through it.”

Born with an aristocratic, peculiar constitution, he was treated preciously, raised carefully to avoid illness. Seeing the physician’s questioning look, Yurik repeated, “So, just do it.”

Ben glanced at Karon for guidance.

“What should we do?”

Karon sighed. Truly, even treatment wasn’t easy with this man. He nodded.

“Do it. We can’t leave it like this.”

They began preparing treatment without medication. Ben hurriedly gathered disinfectant and a scalpel. Realigning the dislocated arm came first. Karon sat beside Yurik, holding his head firmly against his shoulder. Yurik resisted, stiffening his neck, but it was futile. Nestled against Karon’s shoulder, Yurik mumbled, “I can handle it without this. So stop…”

“I’m the one who’s anxious, me. So hold onto me.”

“Does the southern front commander get anxious? The one who led a great victory?”

“My courage is the size of a bean compared to my looks. Seeing someone about to have their flesh cut without anesthesia after a horse’s hoof graze makes my heart race.”

“Haa.”

Karon pulled Yurik’s waist closer.

“It’s going to hurt. If you can’t bear it, bite me.”

“Where?”

“Where do you want to bite?”

“….”

“My shoulder, I mean. I was joking to lighten the mood. Relax your face.”

“Stop it, it’s annoying.”

“Alright.”

Karon replied casually, pressing Yurik’s head down. Ben, swallowing hard, approached.

“I’ll start by realigning the dislocated shoulder.”

Yurik shut his eyes tightly. Ben swiftly grabbed the swollen shoulder and snapped it into place. As Yurik clenched his teeth, Karon stroked his hair, holding his jerking body tightly.

The long, agonizing process of draining the inflammation dragged on for Yurik.

• ~ *

“It’s done.”

Ben checked the carefully wrapped bandage and spoke. Yurik finally relaxed, exhaling deeply. The long ordeal of pain was over. His shoulder still ached, and feverish drowsiness crept in, but relief washed over him for passing the worst.

“Thank you.”

At Yurik’s gratitude, Ben smiled faintly.

“You held up well. Good job.”

Yurik, limp, blinked slowly. While Ben cleaned the blood-soaked towels, basin, and medical bag, Karon still held Yurik. Yurik wondered how long he planned to keep him like this.

“Can you let go now?”

When Karon’s arm around his waist didn’t budge, Yurik spoke first. Having finished treatment, Karon, who had been leaning on the sofa with Yurik, glanced at him with relaxed eyes.

“Are all Windsor family members like that?”

“Like what?”

“Immune to medicine like you.”

“Just me. Since I was a kid.”

Karon propped his chin, gazing at Yurik, lost in thought. Perhaps Yurik’s unique constitution was linked to what Lazfel had mentioned, “that thing.” While pondering, Yurik, seeing Karon distracted, chose to stand up himself.

Karon stood too, supporting Yurik’s uninjured arm as he staggered. Yurik looked at him reluctantly, but Karon’s expression said it was only natural.

“You need rest. You’re feverish.”

“I’ll return to the Windsor estate. Thank you for the treatment—ugh?”

Intending not to impose further, Yurik was startled mid-sentence. Karon had scooped him up. Unable to resist with one immobile arm, Yurik flushed with embarrassment and hissed, “What are you doing…! Everyone’s watching!”

The maids and servants of the ducal estate were clearly staring. Some blushed. Yurik, mortified, buried his face. Karon, lifting him like luggage, looked unbothered and began climbing the stairs briskly.

“Ugh, Sir Chevinelle!”

Yurik, flustered, grabbed Karon’s shoulder with one hand. Karon paused briefly, looking up at Yurik with a sulky expression.

“Sir Chevinelle, so formal? We’re betrothed now. Call me Karon.”

“Just put me down…!”

“No, Yuri. Rest quietly.”

“I get it, just put me down!”

“Nope, Yuri.”

“This…!”

Karon, grinning, carried Yurik to his bedroom. Ash had already tidied it impeccably and whispered to Karon that it was ready.

Karon hadn’t cared whether it was a guest room or not—he just wanted to stay by Yurik’s side—but Ash seemed to think “the young master’s bedroom” was significant. Not wanting to disappoint, Karon laid Yurik on his bed.

Covering him with soft bedding up to his chin, Karon looked at Yurik, whose ears were red as he blinked, and pulled a chair to sit by the bed.

Yurik, too weak to sit up, lay there.

Karon, arms crossed, gave a hollow laugh.

“Going somewhere like this?”

“…I can walk.”

“I know.”

Yurik couldn’t understand why Karon carried him if he knew. He glared at Karon and turned his head away.

The bedding carried the soft scent of Pleonia, like Karon’s scent, calming him. As his mind eased, sleepiness overwhelmed him. Enduring the treatment had drained his energy.

Watching Yurik’s heavy eyelids, Karon asked softly, “A tough constitution to deal with since childhood, huh?”

“Were you a well-behaved child?”

Karon smirked at Yurik’s question.

“Not at all. Quite the troublemaker.”

Yurik smirked too. He could easily imagine Karon like that. Closing his eyes, Yurik drifted into sleep.

Karon watched him for a long time even after he fell asleep. Then, he gently brushed back Yurik’s platinum hair covering his forehead. The strands rustled under his fingers.

“Strange feeling.”

Karon murmured softly to Yurik.

Through Lazfel, their deal had led to this connection with Yurik. But something kept stirring in his chest when he saw Yurik. A strange feeling consumed him.

That wasn’t all. He kept wanting to touch him. A desire, tickling up from his lower abdomen, kept prodding him. Like it was begging to be scratched, to be unleashed.

Karon knew exactly what it was.

What shameful thoughts to have about a patient.

Listening to Yurik’s faint breathing, Karon smirked. He was truly hopeless. A severe case of pent-up desire.

• ~ *

Birds chirped outside the window. Yurik, eyes closed, slowly opened them. Morning sunlight streamed into the room. This wasn’t his familiar estate bedroom. The flowing canopy wasn’t the usual translucent one but a soft blue, enveloping the bed. Only then did Yurik recall the previous night.

He’d come to the Chevinelle estate, received treatment… and Karon had brought him to this room… and laid him down…

At that thought, Yurik’s eyes widened, and he sat up abruptly. He looked around hurriedly, but thankfully, he was alone. His clothes were intact. Sighing, Yurik pulled the bell cord to summon a servant.

Unable to move his arm, Yurik washed his face with the help of a servant, changed his clothes, (Karon, true to his word, had prepared new clothes in advance to replace the ones he had torn), combed his hair neatly, and then left the room. Though the room was too large and ornate to be considered a mere guest room, given the wealth of the Chevinelle family, he accepted it as expected and slowly descended the stairs.

Halfway down, a butler named Ash approached abruptly and greeted him.

“Little Count, did you rest well? How is your condition?”

“Oh, much better. Thank you for your concern.”

Ash bowed his head slightly with courtesy. Feeling it was time to move on, Yurik asked him about Karon’s whereabouts. Staying longer might mean running into Duke Chevinelle himself, which would be too overwhelming. When Yurik inquired, Ash tilted his head and answered.

“He is preparing a meal in the dining hall. He said he would stay for breakfast and dinner as well… I heard this from the Young Duke. Are you planning to leave already? If something was lacking…”

“No, no. The Young Duke… Lord Chevinelle said that, did he?”

Yurik awkwardly covered his mouth and waved his hand dismissively, as if to say it was nothing. Did Karon, this man, think he was so badly injured that he couldn’t even get up? Yurik was a bit dumbfounded but couldn’t scold Ash for it. He nodded vaguely.

“By the way, where is the Young Duke…?”

“Oh, isn’t he with you?”

Ash asked back, as if surprised. Yurik’s expression twisted oddly.

“May I ask how you came to that conclusion?”

“Well, the room you stayed in was the Young Duke’s bedroom…”

“…”

At that, Yurik covered his mouth again and clamped his lips shut. Good heavens, who, even if they were betrothed, would let an outsider—a man, no less—sleep in their own bedroom! No wonder it smelled of Pleonia! Yurik squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

“So… that’s how it was.”

“Yes… If he’s not in the bedroom, the Young Duke is likely at the training grounds. He often goes there in the morning to warm up.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll go find him myself.”

“Understood.”

Ash gave a gentle smile. Overwhelmed by unbearable shame and embarrassment, Yurik hurriedly headed outside the mansion. So, that butler thought he and Karon had shared the same bed and slept together! Right now! But if that wasn’t the case, where had Karon slept?

Yurik pondered with a serious face as he walked. He didn’t need to think about that. Karon was a man who could take care of himself without Yurik’s concern. Guided by a servant, Yurik arrived at the training grounds where Karon was said to be.

Hah!

From a distance, faint shouts of effort echoed. The knights of the ducal house were clearly training from early morning. Yurik, uninterested in the smell of sweat and dirt or watching a bunch of men, planned to find Karon, thank him, and quickly return to his own mansion. He searched for Karon.

Karon was among the knights. Wearing only trousers and boots, his toned upper body fully exposed, he was running across the training grounds with the knights. Sweat trickled down his cheeks, jawline, and neck. He was breathing heavily, focused on running.

Yurik slowed his steps and stood under the shade of a tree in a corner of the training grounds. His splinted arm was fixed and immovable, so he put his other hand behind his back and turned his head with an awkward expression.

It wasn’t the first or second time he’d seen men running like this. Back at the military academy, he’d seen countless men running shirtless, sweating. Karon had been among them, and Yurik had seen him a few times. With a slightly uneasy gaze, Yurik watched the knights and Karon circling the training grounds.

‘Still… his physique is as impressive as ever.’

Unintentionally, he found himself appraising. Karon still had a sculpted, muscular body. Back then, Yurik had thought he was as sleek as a warhorse, and even now, after rolling through battlefields, it was the same.

Feeling a mix of nostalgia and inexplicable embarrassment, Yurik cleared his throat.

Karon belatedly noticed Yurik, stepped out of the formation of running knights, and took a towel from a servant. He then strode toward Yurik.

As he approached, a wave of warm air hit Yurik. Strangely, it didn’t feel unpleasant. Avoiding his gaze, Yurik spoke.

“You’re lively this morning.”

“Just warming up after a while. So, how’s your condition?”

Karon, oblivious to Yurik’s mood, stepped closer and examined Yurik’s splinted arm. Yurik instinctively leaned back, then cleared his throat and said.

“Yes. Much better. So, I’m thinking of heading back now.”

“Already? Why not stay a bit longer? Have a meal with us. My father wants to see you.”

“What? The Duke?”