* * *
How did he even know what Eren was about to say?
Puffing his cheeks in protest, Eren pouted.
“You didn’t even hear me out…”
“…You weren’t about to say you want to go to the hunting tournament?”
“…”
…Well, technically, that was it.
The moment Eren’s silence confirmed it, Ashard’s expression hardened.
Eren knew full well why he was holding back, yet he still wanted to attend that damn tournament.
What if he strained his already injured ankle?
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Ashard opposed it.
In Trovien, every noble family was required to send a representative to the hunting tournament.
Which meant those three bastards with preserved titles would have to show up too—that was the real problem.
“You said you’d grant any favor I asked.”
“…Sigh. You’re really going to use that now?”
Ashard had intended to refuse firmly, but Eren’s adorable pout and sparkling eyes shook his resolve.
Somehow, ever since they met, Ashard always found himself getting swayed by him.
If Eren shook him, he shook.
If Eren pushed, he bent.
“Can’t I go? Hmm?”
Whether Eren went or not, what truly mattered was who won the tournament.
As long as Ashard claimed victory and stopped Helid from getting his hands on the indulgence, everything would be fine.
But still, he had no intention of sitting back and watching from afar.
He didn’t want to be left anxious and helpless.
‘I need to see it with my own eyes.’
Helid was the type to follow his twisted desires without hesitation, but if he got that indulgence, it would be like adding wings to his madness.
Ashard had to prevent that, no matter what.
“Why? You know better than anyone how dangerous it is.”
“…I want the winner’s prize.”
Traditionally, the tournament winner offered both their catch and the winner’s prize to their chosen partner.
That’s why so many nobles fought tooth and nail for victory.
Offering the indulgence as the prize to your partner was practically a public marriage proposal.
‘If I show up with an S-tier marriage gift, how’s anyone supposed to say no?’
But there was one condition: the intended recipient had to be present at the event.
It was a public ceremony to ensure no one took the prize and ran.
That was the rule—except for Helid.
He never cared for noble customs.
He had openly declared he wouldn’t give the prize to anyone.
And eventually, the indulgence fell into his hands.
That cursed chain of events all started there.
“Were you planning to give the winner’s prize to someone else besides me?”
“Why would I ever?”
“Then let me go.”
Ashard’s once resolute face faltered with hesitation.
How did things end up like this?
He knew if he refused, Eren would cling to him, endlessly questioning who else the prize might be for.
Even knowing Eren’s sly intentions, Ashard couldn’t help but fall into his trap.
“Honestly, you really are…”
As the reluctant permission slipped from his lips, Eren couldn’t hide his smile.
It didn’t matter if the setting changed or if the story veered off course.
There were always variables in play.
Unlike the original story where only noble families from Epentel participated, things had already shifted.
It was the same before—when Ashard showed up at the place Eren was supposed to meet Helid, the novel’s events already began to stray.
Ashard was the unexpected variable—an unknown factor inserted into what once was a fixed equation.
And just like an unknown that completely transforms the solution, Ashard’s presence filled Eren’s fate with endless possibilities.
‘If I stay with Ashard… I might really be able to break the original story.’
It wasn’t a mere hope—it was certainty, based on the results so far.
Maybe some faint unease still lingered deep inside him.
But the moment that thought surfaced, Eren’s body fully relaxed.
His eyelids felt heavier than usual.
“Don’t abandon me… Ashard…”
Even as his mind grew hazy, Eren was determined to say those words.
Maybe it was the exhaustion of everything happening all at once, or maybe the comfort of being held in Ashard’s arms, surrounded by his familiar scent, eased him.
“…Tsk. You didn’t even take your medicine yet.”
Soft breathing sounds filled the room.
Ashard looked down at the peacefully sleeping Eren in his arms and gently brushed aside the hair covering his forehead.
His touch was so delicate, as if worried Eren might wake.
When did he fall for him this deeply?
Whenever they were apart, he craved being together.
When they were together, he wanted to hold him.
And when he held him, he wanted to do more, to take it further.
His insatiable desire kept growing.
“If anyone’s getting abandoned here, it’s me—not the other way around.”
Ashard’s hand tightened around Eren’s shoulder.
It was a promise—a vow not to let him go, no matter what.
“That’s the one thing I won’t grant you, even if you beg, Eren.”
It was a vow of eternity.
He must’ve fallen into a deep sleep because when Eren opened his eyes, he felt completely refreshed.
His body wasn’t even sore, likely because Ashard had laid him properly on the bed while he slept.
Eren stretched both arms above his head and rolled over.
“…Huh?”
His gaze, which had been fixed on the ceiling, drifted to the man lying beside him—Ashard.
Instinctively, Eren reached out toward him.
With his eyes closed and completely still, Ashard looked like a sculpture.
Just before his hand brushed Ashard’s cheek, Eren’s hand froze in midair.
“One week. I’ll hold back until then.”
For some reason, those words suddenly popped into his head.
Maybe that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to touch him.
But then, warmth settled over his hovering hand, guiding it down gently to Ashard’s cheek.
“If you want to touch me, go ahead.”
“…You were awake?”
“You kept fidgeting beside me. Hard to sleep through that.”
Ashard’s eyes were still closed, looking as though he was half-asleep.
Slowly, Eren traced his hand along Ashard’s cheek—the same way Ashard always caressed his face.
With that awkward gesture, Ashard’s lips curled slightly.
Even with his eyes closed, he could sense Eren struggling, unable to properly eat the food being spoon-fed to him.
“I belong to you, so act as you wish.”
“…Saying such embarrassing things first thing in the morning—”
“You belong to me, so I’m going to touch you however I want.”
As if to prove his words weren’t just talk, the hand that had been wrapped around Eren’s waist all night naturally slid down.
It traced along his smooth waist and reached his hips.
And judging by the way it continued to drift further, it clearly wasn’t stopping there.
“Ah—! Ashard!”
“Didn’t we settle this already? If you’re upset, feel free to touch me back.”
“You promised you’d wait at least a week!”
“Then you shouldn’t have acted so adorable.”
Judging by Ashard’s expression, if Eren stayed still, he wouldn’t be able to escape this bed — in more ways than one.
Eren quickly sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.
Ashard’s eyes followed him, curved mischievously, filled with amusement.
“Alright, I’ll just hold you. Come here.”
Lying on his side, Ashard patted the spot beside him — where Eren had just been — invitingly.
Eren eyed him warily, clearly suspicious he’d get grabbed again, yet his body betrayed him, inching over and curling into Ashard’s chest.
Ashard’s laughter slipped out.
“Pfft… You’re hopelessly bad at hiding your feelings.”
Ashard offered his arm for Eren to snuggle into.
The warm morning light gently streamed over the two of them, casting a soft glow.
It was a peaceful, comforting morning.
Or at least, it should’ve been—
Bang—!
“Uncle!”
* * *
