TPWTM 8

Yurik laid out his condition.

“Don’t truly fall in love.”

Karon’s expression shifted subtly. Yurik, trying to hide his embarrassment, slightly lowered his eyes. He knew full well that, as the first condition for a marriage between alphas with no guarantee of an heir, it was rather peculiar. But this was also a declaration of Yurik’s resolve.

Don’t fall in love for real.

After all, Karon Chevinelle wasn’t sincere about him. The empire’s notorious playboy, infamous for his debauchery, wouldn’t possibly be tied down by a single alpha.

If Yurik could just manage to set his troublesome, festering family affairs in order, he could divorce afterward or live separately, enjoying a carefree life alone. As long as he didn’t love Karon, there would surely be no pain, no chance of their marriage turning into a hellish ordeal.

The same went for Karon.

But for Karon, it was an easy condition.

There was no way that Karon Chevinelle, with countless beauties in the empire, would fall for him of all people.

Yurik pulled out two sheets of parchment he’d prepared. Karon was even more impressed by Yurik’s thorough preparation, though in a different sense. Looking at him with a slightly exasperated expression, Karon flicked the ash from his cigarette and said, “Alright. First脆

System: First condition. Not impossible to keep. So, what’s the second condition? Or, how many conditions are there? It’s not like there are thirty-three of them, is it? If so, I’m getting up and leaving right now.”

“I’m not that unreasonable.”

“Says the person making ‘don’t fall in love’ a condition?”

“Then what did you expect me to say? Let’s get married, live happily ever after, and even as alphas, let’s make it work and build a cozy, harmonious family?”

“Ridiculous. How could alphas…!”

“Exactly my point. That’s what I’m saying, isn’t it? You’re an alpha, I’m an alpha, we both have burdens from our families, so let’s be careful and considerate of each other.”

“Sigh… Fine. I understand.”

“‘Understand’? What’s that supposed to mean? You can’t do anything but understand?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“Your words are what’s strange.”

“What’s strange about them? You’re the one suggesting a contract marriage.”

“If you don’t like a contract marriage, then don’t do it.”

“Who said I didn’t like it?”

“Then why are you annoyed?”

The two flared up, arguing heatedly, then turned away from each other, huffing. Karon couldn’t contain his irritation for some reason, and Yurik couldn’t fathom why Karon was so upset. Finally, Karon sighed and raised both hands.

“Alright, I got carried away. Sorry. We agreed to do this, and my family has something to gain, so I’m in. Here, sign.”

Karon signed the blank parchment first. Yurik wanted to say something about signing without hearing the full terms but held back. To act so casually in such a serious matter made him wonder how Karon handled other things, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up.

In any case, they had agreed to get married.

Yurik signed the bottom of the parchment as well. Karon, arms crossed, looked at him and asked, “So, what’s the second condition?”

“We must fulfill the duties of a married couple.”

“…That sounds a bit suggestive.”

“…Is that all you can think about? Listen properly.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“It’s a clause to ensure you don’t tarnish my honor. Even if we’re a show-window couple, I want us to act properly. I’ll do the same, of course. Our public appearance must be impeccable. Your reckless attitude, your scandalous private life—whatever. But in official settings, you must be by my side. I won’t tolerate anything that stains my family’s honor.”

“Ah, that’s the gist of it.”

“Yes. Please. I’m done with being gossip fodder.”

“Well, if you tolerate my reckless attitude, gossip might be unavoidable.”

“…Anyway.”

Karon snorted at Yurik’s words. With two alphas married, and the Chevinelle and Windsor families united, every move they made would obviously be broadcast across the empire. Especially since both were already famous as heirs of great noble houses and as alphas.

Still, Karon didn’t mock Yurik further and wrote the terms on the parchment.

“Keep the proposal simple. Don’t make a spectacle like last time, letting rumors spread.”

“So, the proposer’s duty falls to me? And I’m bringing the dowry, too.”

“…That’s right.”

“Then you’ll have to give the courtesy kiss.”

“What?”

“You don’t know about the courtesy kiss?”

Karon wrote, “The proposal shall be simple,” on the parchment, then looked at Yurik with a smirk.

Yurik wasn’t ignorant of the courtesy kiss. In the Halcon Empire, it was customary for the one accepting a proposal to give a kiss in return. And when that happened, crowds would gather to watch. Among nobles, it was considered romantic, and stories of who gave whom a courtesy kiss circulated widely.

For a moment, Yurik was speechless, his mouth agape. He knew about it—he’d been educated as an alpha! But he never dreamed he’d be in that situation. And that Karon would demand it! His pale face flushed red, but the dim orange light hid it from Karon. Yurik covered his face to swallow his embarrassment.

Karon, speaking playfully, pondered what to write on the other parchment. Yurik turned away, staring pointlessly out the dark window.

“I’ll think more about my conditions. Adding them one by one later seems better. What’s the point of squeezing them out now?”

“That’s fine. After all, we’re the ones becoming… a couple.”

Couple. Yurik hesitated as he said it. Karon, not catching his hesitation, grinned at him. A couple—not bad. He’d thought about it several times, and Karon didn’t mind this marriage. Their goals aligned, and the alpha before him sparked curiosity. An intriguing partner, and Lazhuel had even set an “end” goal.

“Then how about we leave this shabby, rundown inn that doesn’t suit us?”

“The Drevery Club doesn’t seem much better…”

“Haha, that place holds my memories, so let’s not compare it to here.”

Karon rolled up the parchments, keeping one and handing the other to Yurik. Yurik exhaled deeply and tucked it into his coat. Finally, one major, tumultuous issue was settled. Bigger challenges—like facing Duke Chevinelle and wedding preparations—loomed, but with this burden lifted, those could wait.

Yurik said, donning his robe, “You remember the victory banquet is coming up.”

“Good thing I won’t have to worry about a partner then.”

“…Yes. We should act officially from the victory banquet. Announce the engagement first, then… what are you doing?”

Yurik, lost in thought while putting on his robe, froze in shock at seeing Karon kneel before him. What was this man up to now? But Karon casually took Yurik’s hand.

Looking straight into Yurik’s startled blue eyes, Karon kissed the back of his hand.

Soft, warm lips lingered on his hand before pulling away. Yurik stared at Karon, reverently kissing his hand, unable to speak. Karon stood, still holding Yurik’s hand, and said, “This is a greeting to commemorate our marriage agreement.”

“You…”

“Come on, show some sincerity in return.”

Karon leaned closer, taking a step toward Yurik. Yurik instinctively stepped back. Karon grabbed his waist, pulling him closer. Yurik panicked—Karon’s face was right in front of him. Karon grinned mischievously.

“Yuri, forgot about the courtesy kiss?”

“Well… we haven’t done it properly yet…”

“Yuri, show some sincerity.”

“Look here.”

“Yuri.”

As Karon kept playfully calling his name, Yurik took another step back, but his back hit the windowsill. There was nowhere left to retreat. Yurik felt his ears burning. Under the orange lamplight, Karon’s intense gaze felt overwhelming. Yurik, unsure where to look, darted his eyes around and finally sighed.

“…Your teasing is really…”

Then, cautiously, with great hesitation, Yurik placed his hand on Karon’s chin. Karon, feeling the faint touch, turned his head as Yurik guided. After one more moment of hesitation, Yurik pressed his lips to Karon’s.

Karon’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected Yurik to actually do it—it was just a playful tease. He’d thought Yurik would push him away in anger. Karon looked at Yurik’s slightly closed eyes before him. His eyelashes trembled, and soft lips pressed against his, lingering briefly before pulling away.

Karon, dazed, watched and then tightly embraced Yurik’s waist. As Yurik tried to pull back after a light kiss, Karon grabbed his hand and pressed their lips together again.

“Mmph…!”

Yurik’s eyes widened in shock. This time, Karon closed his eyes, invading Yurik’s mouth. His tongue slipped in, stirring and ravaging, plundering Yurik’s palate. Yurik’s body arched backward endlessly.

“Mm, ngh…!”

Yurik tried to pull away in panic, but his gripped wrist wouldn’t budge. Karon’s brazen tongue toyed with him relentlessly in his mouth.

Their saliva mingled, their breaths intertwined. Yurik was breathless. This crazy man…! What the…! Yurik pounded Karon’s chest with his free hand. Karon, unmoving, kissed Yurik to his satisfaction before finally pulling away.

“Haa, ha…!”

“Haa…”

Karon, lips messy with saliva, smiled and caught Yurik, whose legs gave out, propping him up. Then he said something outrageous.

“Alphas aren’t bad either.”

“You…!”

Yurik was dumbfounded, at a loss for words. Good heavens. A kiss! He considered throwing a punch, but realized he couldn’t even touch this former battlefield commander.

Barely steadying his trembling legs, Yurik pushed Karon away and fled the Lechebine Inn, frantically wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he mounted Gemini.

A kiss, of all things! That damned Karon Chevinelle! Just a show of sincerity, he said!

He’d gone along with it, thinking it was fine since they were getting married. He never imagined it would escalate like this. Yurik, face flushed, bowed his head on horseback. His face was so red anyone could see it burning.

Damn it, Karon Chevinelle. He’d resolved not to, but… what was he doing now! He, he definitely…!

Yurik was furious to the core. And why was Karon so good at kissing?

• ~ *

It was all because of Karon Chevinelle.

The next morning, Yurik rubbed his tired face at the table by his room’s window.

His handsome face still shone in the pale morning sunlight, but dark circles hung under his eyes. Taking a sip of the coffee the maid brought, Yurik gritted his teeth.

He’d tossed and turned all night. It was all Karon Chevinelle’s fault. That damned kiss—and for a first kiss, it was so expertly done that the sensation kept tickling his lips, keeping him awake.

As expected of the empire’s notorious playboy—the name wasn’t for nothing. Yurik snorted to himself.

How many women, how many omegas must he have kissed! That’s why he was so skilled. That wretch—his tongue was as active as his lower body must be. How many… how many…

Thinking that far, Yurik, fuming with rage, crossed his legs and lit a cigar. Exhaling smoke, his racing thoughts finally seemed to calm.

Since meeting Karon Chevinelle, his mind had been spinning endlessly with thoughts of him. The man’s presence was overwhelming.

Yurik irritably opened the morning newspaper. If it made it here, it had passed the butler’s screening, meaning no outrageous gossip about him and Karon. Frowning, Yurik scanned the paper closely.

Trying to enjoy a rare leisurely morning, a knock came at the door. Raising his coffee cup, Yurik said, “Come in.”

It was the butler, looking quite flustered, striding across the room to stand before Yurik. Yurik raised an eyebrow, a bad feeling crossing his mind.

And that feeling was…

“Young Master, I’m afraid… you’d better come see this.”

“What now? What is it?”

“…Well…”

Spot on.

Seeing the butler’s truly troubled face, Yurik clenched his teeth, stood abruptly, and followed him. Hurrying to the entrance, he saw all the estate’s servants gathered, craning their necks to gawk at something.

Yurik felt an odd sense of déjà vu as he approached. The head maid, spotting him, hurriedly dispersed the crowd.

“What are you all doing here? Get back to work!”

“This time too…”

“Good heavens, the Pleonia flowers are still…”

“So this is… Sehil…”

Despite the head maid’s efforts, the servants moved sluggishly. Their murmurs reached Yurik’s ears.

Noticing him late, the servants parted with a start. Yurik strode out the entrance, then stopped, mouth agape, at the sight of a long line of carriages stretching from the gate.

“…So, butler.”

“…Yes, Young Master.”

“What are these things?”

As Yurik asked, a servant stepped down from the lead carriage, removed his hat at the gate’s steps, and bowed deeply. He handed a small note to the butler, who read it, swallowed hard, and turned to Yurik.

“What is it?”

“Ahem… Young Master. These are betrothal gifts from the Chevinelle family.”

“…What?”

Yurik pressed his forehead. That damned Karon Chevinelle! He’d asked for a hefty dowry, but so extravagantly! So publicly! So excessively diverse and abundant! (Yurik only wanted money.) Was this really necessary?

Swallowing his rising anger, Yurik looked at the servant, who said with a gentle face, “My master instructed me to ensure Sir Yurik Windsor sees it.”

The servant handed a key to the butler. Behind him, other servants unloaded a massive wooden chest from the carriage and set it at the entrance. Yurik glared at it and asked, “What’s this supposed to be?”

“See for yourself.”

The chest’s lock was excessively large and ornate. Selling it alone could fetch 100,000 gold easily. Yurik stared at it gravely, then noticed the countless expectant gazes on him—from the estate’s servants, the butler, the head maid, even the Chevinelle servants.

Their eyes were saying, “Open it already!”

“Open it now!”

Yurik didn’t want to, but unable to resist the expectant stares, he fitted the key into the lock and turned it.

With a click, the lock opened, and Yurik lifted the heavy chest’s lid. Seeing the contents, he slammed it shut with a bang.

The servants and onlookers gave Yurik silent, questioning looks. The butler, speaking for them, asked, “W-What was it?”

“….”

Yurik was speechless, utterly dumbfounded.

Good heavens. What lunatic sends gold as a betrothal gift!

Through the slightly lifted lid, he’d glimpsed shimmering gold coins piled high. Yes, this was exactly what Yurik needed most. It was critical then and still was now! But, but…! This was a bit, well… hard to put into words.

Yurik asked the servant, “Did your master say anything else?”

Another servant stepped forward, bowing.

“My master said to send 500,000 gold first.”

Yurik clamped his mouth shut, the butler’s jaw dropped, and the servants watching, some munching popcorn, gaped at each other, covering their mouths in shock.

500,000 gold!

That wasn’t some puppy’s name! 500,000 gold!

Yurik was beyond exasperated, nearly losing it. If he was going to send 500,000 gold, why not just a simple check? Sending actual gold coins one by one—was this a ploy to taunt him or to sweeten the deal?

He couldn’t tell if it was honey or poison.

Yurik let out a hollow laugh.

500,000 gold could pay off half the debt to Ryuzha or whatever that merchant was called. Yurik swallowed hard.

“Butler, for now… move this to my room.”

“Y-Yes… Understood.”

The butler, clearly flustered, wiped his brow with a handkerchief and ordered the servants to move it. It was so heavy it took four servants to carry, and there were three such chests.

Yurik staggered briefly. How was he supposed to handle these? And there were more gifts—more carriages lined up beyond the garden to the gate.

The butler, gauging Yurik’s expression, asked, “Young Master, are you getting married?”

“…It’s come to that.”

“Is this… a good thing or not?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

Yurik was genuinely curious.

But he’d overlooked one fact.

Karon Chevinelle, the sole heir of the Chevinelle family, who could turn sand into gold, had sent these gifts with genuine sincerity, believing it a modest gesture in line with Yurik’s wishes.

• ~ *

Fortunately, that day, while the capital buzzed with tales of “Karon Chevinelle’s betrothal gift parade,” Yurik managed to stay one step removed from the commotion.

The flood of paperwork for the upcoming victory banquet kept him so busy that he had no time to meet anyone and was stuck in his office.

“Sir Dellroad, have you reviewed all the documents from the Ministry of Justice?”

Yurik, going through papers from various administrative departments, asked Dellroad, who was toiling beside him. Dellroad, half-asleep with a pen in his mouth and eyes half-closed, jolted awake, shaking his head.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Well, I’m still going through them.”

“It’s best to finish them today, so if there’s anything left, divide them and put some on my desk. I’ll help.”

“Thank you, Sir Yurik. You’re the only one I can count on.”

“It’s nothing.”

Yurik rubbed his tired brow and stood up. After skipping lunch and staring at documents for hours, his eyes felt like they were about to spill out. He asked an attendant for a sandwich and coffee to fill his stomach and headed to a nearby palace terrace.

The warm April sunlight was dazzlingly pleasant. The afternoon breeze, after being cooped up in the office, felt refreshing. Yurik sat at a table on the terrace, cut the tip of a cigar, and lit it.

It was the essential worker’s ritual: spacing-out time. To clear his mind and shake off the whispers of nobles staring at him on his way here, Yurik smoked his cigar in a state of blank tranquility. The rich aroma filled his lungs and spread across the terrace.

Then, a click sounded as someone opened the terrace door.

Yurik heard it but didn’t bother turning around. This terrace, near the administrative offices, was usually where officials came to smoke, so he assumed it was one of them.

Trying to focus on his cigar, he noticed the newcomer hesitating, approaching him step by step. Hearing the footsteps, Yurik turned with a slightly annoyed expression. He paused briefly.

It was an unfamiliar man. Tall but frail-looking, with pale skin and bright blonde hair like Yurik’s.

When Yurik looked at him, the man’s pale cheeks visibly flushed, and he lowered his head in a bow.

“Oh, hello.”

“Hello.”

Yurik returned the greeting absentmindedly. The man lifted his head quickly, smiling as if overwhelmed with emotion. Seeing his face, Yurik thought, quite a refined beauty.

Yurik flicked ash into the ashtray, waiting for the man to introduce himself. After hesitating for a while, the man spoke first.

“Am I perhaps disturbing your rest?”

An innocent question. Yurik gave a faint smile and looked at him.

“No. It’s not that much of a bother.”

“Oh…”

“But not introducing yourself might be a bit bothersome.”

“Oh!”

At Yurik’s teasing remark, the man flusteredly introduced himself.

“I, I’m Luces Graham. Of the Graham marquisate…”

“The second son of the marquisate. Pleased to meet you.”

Yurik stood and approached Luces. Standing before him, he placed a hand on his chest, bowed elegantly, and met Luces’s eyes.

“I’m Yurik Windsor.”

“Oh…”

Luces, gazing into Yurik’s gem-like blue eyes, could only gape, speechless.

• ~ *

The commotion at Madame Drevery’s Club had been ongoing since midday. In the smoky hall, one side hosted a gambling den, the other a drinking fest. Karon, accustomed to the scene, passed through the hall toward the club’s interior.

“Hey, Commander! Come join us for a drink!”

“Come on, Pete! You think His Excellency would drink this commoner’s swill?”

“Commoner? I’m a knight!”

“Hah, just a quasi-noble! Not even knighted yet!”

“You bastard!”

Karon paused at the low wooden door, glancing at the commotion. Two drunken men, faces flushed, were grabbing each other’s collars and giggling. Karon scanned the sprawled figures at the table, sighed, and spoke.

“Drink in moderation, you lot. Cause trouble, and you’re all dead. Simple as that.”

“Ehehe~~ Loyalty!”

“Loyalty!”

Ignoring their slouched, staggering salutes, Karon opened the wooden door and entered. Further down the corridor were two doors—one to a room he’d stayed in before, the other to a reception room. Karon flung open the reception room door.

A guest was already waiting. A handsome man with golden hair that seemed to melt light. Prince Lazhuel the First, standing by the window, turned as Karon entered.

“The noise outside—had to be you.”

“Those guys are loud as hell. Aren’t you kicking them out? They’re itching for action after swinging swords on the battlefield every day.”

“Have some patience. They’ll get proper recognition at the victory banquet before being sent anywhere.”

“You think the empress will do it properly?”

Karon spoke cynically, plopping onto a couch. Lazhuel smiled faintly. Karon had a point. Empress Bistet, wary of Lazhuel, would likely downplay his achievements and weaken his faction. The knights’ contributions might get diminished too.

It was clearly due to his own shortcomings. Thinking so, Lazhuel handed Karon a freshly cut cigar.

Lighting it, Lazhuel sat across from Karon and asked, “So, you’re going through with it?”

Karon, mid-puff, looked at Lazhuel and smirked.

“Didn’t you already know?”

“Knowing and not knowing are the same.”

“That cryptic act of yours—ever since I’ve known you, I’ve wanted to punch you for it, you know that?”

“Haha, go ahead. Let’s see what happens.”

Len, standing against the wall, whipped around, hand on his sword hilt. Karon clicked his tongue, leaned back on the couch, and ignored him.

Lazhuel grinned at Karon’s sulky expression.

“You seem to like him.”

“Where? Where’s that written on my face?”

“Your expression says so.”

“Your Highness, did you know?”

Lazhuel, caught off guard by the sudden question, closed his mouth and widened his eyes. Karon asked with a wry tone, “You knew from the start it was Yurik Windsor, not Sehil Windsor.”

“I asked if you liked him.”

“Like or not, what’s that matter? You’re the one who pushed me into this, with a ton of conditions no less.”

Lazhuel laughed.

“But you should like him. He’s your future spouse.”

Karon clicked his tongue and turned away.

Not like Yurik? That wasn’t true. Honestly… he liked him too much. That kiss last night wasn’t just to tease Yurik. He’d been moved to act. Back at his townhouse, recalling that moment of contact, Karon had… backed off a bit.

Yurik’s soft lips, parted mouth, sweet tongue. The saliva wetting his throat—yet it left him parched. He burned, wanting to force those tightly shut eyes open, to see those gem-like blue eyes looking at him, brimming with tears. That burning thirst, Karon hadn’t felt in ages. And from an alpha, no less.

Karon licked his lips, recalling it, then answered Lazhuel.

“My future spouse, yeah.”

With all the duties of a married couple. Karon smirked, puffing his cigar.

Lazhuel, closely observing Karon’s subtle shift in expression, mirrored it with his own. Narrowing his eyes, Lazhuel looked at Karon, then turned away and spoke.

“Do well, I’m counting on you. The Windsor family’s secret is crucial. I asked you because you’re my dearest friend. Honestly, I…”

Lazhuel trailed off, wrinkling his nose and falling silent. Karon, unbothered, didn’t press for the rest.

After smoking for a while, Karon stood and said to Lazhuel, “By the way, how’s the victory banquet preparation going? It’s for you—should you be out here?”

“With His Majesty bedridden, how could it be for me?”

Lazhuel gave a faint, stiff smile. The words carried weight. With the emperor absent, Empress Bistet controlled all major imperial affairs, so the victory banquet would inevitably sideline its true honoree. Karon smirked.

“Her Majesty was quite heated about my match. Is she close with the Graham marquisate?”

“The Graham marquisate? They’re pro-empress. They switched from neutral this time.”

Karon nodded at Lazhuel’s words. He wasn’t big on political factions but had a rough idea. He’d thought the Grahams were neutral, so he’d asked about the Graham-named attendant in the empress’s service.

“No wonder she was so keen to pair me with him.”

“The Graham marquisate and the Chevinelle dukedom together… a formidable alliance. And I’m the one ruining it—what to do?”

“What to do? Pay me back dearly later.”

Karon smirked, stood, gave a half-hearted salute, and left. Watching him go, Lazhuel smiled wryly.

“The dear price… I’m already paying it.”

Muttering regretfully, Lazhuel looked at the spot Karon had left.

• ~ *

“Sir Luces Graham?”

“Oh, yes, yes…!”

“You’re staring so hard, you might bore a hole through my face.”

“Oh, s-sorry…”

“I didn’t mean you should apologize.”

Seeing Luces blush, Yurik smiled. After dealing with the sly and chaotic Karon, meeting someone so innocent felt cleansing. He gestured to the chair across the table. Luces, face bright red, fumbled with the table and sat.

Soon, the attendant brought Yurik’s requested sandwich and coffee. Yurik offered some to Luces.

“I haven’t eaten. Would you like to join me?”

“Oh, yes… I mean…”

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Oh, I… my health isn’t great, so I don’t drink coffee.”

“One fruit juice, please.”

Yurik made the request to the attendant and began eating his sandwich slowly. Luces, hands clasped, watched him intently, blinking quietly.

While eating and enjoying the weather, Yurik noticed Luces’s gaze again and turned to him. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he asked, “Is there something on my face?”

At the smiling question, Luces panicked.

“No, no! It’s not that, just, um…”

“Then? Is it odd to eat with someone you just met? All the officials do it.”

“No, no! I know how hard you officials work. It’s just… just…”

Luces covered his face with both hands, embarrassed. But his bright red face wasn’t fully hidden. When Yurik stared, Luces squeezed his eyes shut and blurted, “You’re just so beautiful.”

“…Pardon?”

Yurik was briefly taken aback. Beautiful, to an alpha?

Then he realized he was clinging to outdated biases. Beauty was a universal standard, not divided by gender or alpha-omega status. Chiding his narrow-mindedness, Yurik gave a faint smile.

“You’re beautiful too.”

At his soft chuckle, Luces’s face and ears turned crimson. His innocent reaction was genuinely cute, and Yurik smirked, finishing his sandwich. Luces, still covering his face, stole glances at Yurik with a flushed expression.

The attendant brought the fruit juice, and Yurik sipped his coffee. Sitting there in the calm afternoon tea time, it felt like a matchmaking meeting. With that thought, Yurik asked Luces, “What brought you here?”

“Oh, I…”

Just as Luces began to speak, a voice called from outside the terrace door, “Luces-nim! Where are you?” Startled, Luces jumped up, shaking the table. Not noticing, he turned, tripped on the tea table, and stumbled.

“Oh…!”

Yurik leapt up, grabbed Luces’s waist, and pulled him away from the falling teacup. For a moment, Luces felt time stop. Yurik’s gaze, the spinning view, and then—

Crash!

The teacup shattered sharply. Luces, face as red as it could get, clung to Yurik’s arms, dodging the breaking cup.

“Gasp…! I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Are you alright?”

Yurik checked Luces’s legs for shards. Luces, watching him, could do nothing but clutch his chest.

Another call for Luces came from outside.

“I’m sorry, Sir Yurik…!”

Luces hurriedly pulled away and fled the terrace. Yurik blinked at him, then asked the attendant to clean up the mess. Luces Graham was a shy man. Meeting someone with such a pure demeanor was rare and oddly comforting. And…

“He’s an omega.”

That was the extent of his thoughts.

Yurik took out another cigar and relaxed.

Meanwhile, Luces, fleeing, was led back to the empress’s palace by a maid.

The maid glanced at the unusually quiet Luces and asked, “Luces-nim, why’s your face so red? You look thrilled! Did something happen while you were out?”

“Huh? Oh, do I?”

Luces smiled faintly, covering his mouth. An uncontainable smile spread across his face.

This thrilling feeling was truly, truly new.

• ~ *

Yurik sent Karon a letter. Stop sending those damned gifts and meet me, it said. The gifts and carriages had come and gone twice already.

Yurik, furious, wrote bluntly to show his smug face instead. He’d told the first messenger to get a reply, but only his letter came back. The second attempt was the same. Finally, sending it to Madame Drevery’s Club got a response.

“So eager to see me? Let’s meet at Countess Offenia’s social club, my lovely betrothed. Karon Chevinelle.”

Seeing the clearly drunken scrawl, Yurik’s cheek twitched as he crumpled the note. That jerk, after kissing him like that, was acting so cavalier about meeting! He resolved to give Karon a piece of his mind in person. He turned to the butler.

“Is there an invitation from Countess Offenia?”

“Oh, we just received one.”

From the stack of invitations, Yurik pulled out Countess Offenia’s and checked the date. It was tomorrow afternoon. With the victory banquet nearing, social events were plentiful, but this one seemed hastily arranged. Sighing, Yurik asked the butler to prepare.

Honestly, he didn’t want to go, but to stop the flood of gifts piling up at the estate, he had to face that man.

“Butler, tell Jimmy to polish my shoes for tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and check my clothes too.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

The butler smiled warmly. Yurik, grumbling, clasped his hands behind his back and headed to his room. Somehow, a hint of anticipation flickered on his face.

The butler, following, hesitated, then cautiously called out, “Young Master, there’s something…”

“Hm?”

Yurik turned. The butler, looking troubled, debated whether to bring it up. Yurik frowned, urging him.

“What’s the matter? Speak.”

“It’s… about Ariannen.”

Yurik froze. A name he’d deliberately pushed from his mind. The butler continued, uneasy.

“He hadn’t shown up for days after that incident, but he started coming back last week. Timed with your rut cycle.”

“…Ha.”

The one who’d practically stained the family’s honor. To avoid him, Yurik had cut off Ariannen’s salary and provisions through the butler, thinking that signaled the end of their tie to the Windsor family.

“But he can’t let go, can he?”

The intent was obvious. Ariannen had lived off the Windsor family as Yurik’s rut partner. Losing that meant falling to the level of other servants, facing hard labor to earn a living.

That was likely Ariannen’s greatest fear—being no different from others, having to toil for money. For someone aiming to be a noble’s mistress, losing the Windsor connection was the worst-case scenario. So he shamelessly showed up again, begging for another chance.

The butler, uneasy, said, “Since he’s served you so long, the other servants are unsure how to treat him. It’s hard to kick him out.”

Yurik sighed and turned to the butler. It might be better to see him once and settle things for good. He’d avoided him, fearing it would stoke his anger, but… Clicking his tongue, Yurik asked, “Where’s Ariannen now?”

• ~ *

Summoned to the reception room by the dining hall, Ariannen chewed his nails anxiously, staring at the door. Yurik would arrive soon, but he had no idea what excuse to make. For now, he’d play innocent and think about why he was chosen by Yurik’s parents.