* * *
Ashard bit down hard on his lower lip as a smile bloomed across his face, showing no intention of hiding it.
When had it started?
These unfamiliar emotions flooding in—jealousy whenever he was with another man, heart fluttering whenever he smiled at him.
Complicated yet painfully simple feelings.
“You knew what it meant when you asked for the hunting tournament’s grand prize to be given to me, didn’t you?”
“…Of course—”
“But seeing as you asked my nephews for the same favor, I’m not sure what to think.”
“T-That’s…”
He never imagined Ashard would actually care about that.
Unable to confess the truth, Eren scrambled to come up with an excuse.
“I-I panicked back then… That was the only thing that came to mind. I’m sorry, Lord Ashard…”
Ashard didn’t say anything as he gazed into Eren’s downcast, regretful eyes.
It was true, a small pang of disappointment tugged at him, but he couldn’t believe Eren had done something like that without any thought behind it.
There had to be a reason.
His earlier words were meant as a playful tease, but Eren seemed to have taken them to heart.
The way he snuck glances upward, carefully gauging Ashard’s mood, was utterly adorable.
With affectionate eyes, Ashard gently stroked Eren’s cheek.
His hand slid down along the slender neck, fingers lightly tugging at the collar of his shirt, revealing the pale, delicate line of his throat.
Smack—
As if in a small act of revenge, Ashard pressed a soft kiss to Eren’s neck.
The unexpected warmth and softness of his lips made Eren instinctively flinch.
A faint red mark bloomed against his pale skin.
Ashard’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he gazed at the mark, his eyes deep and lingering.
“If you really feel sorry, I’ll make sure to check tonight.”
Normally, he would’ve scolded him for leaving a mark somewhere visible, but today, strangely, he was calm.
Eren’s plump cheeks flushed a deep red, clearly betraying the thoughts running wild in that small head of his.
“What indecent thoughts are you having to make your face that red?”
“W-When did I ever…!”
Eren jolted as if he’d been caught doing something wrong, then, flustered, gave Ashard a small push.
It wasn’t forceful—he seemed careful, as if afraid pushing too hard would make Ashard upset.
That shy, hesitant gesture was maddeningly lovable.
“Whatever you’re imagining, I promise tonight will go far beyond that… You should brace yourself.”
At those words, Eren bowed his head, hiding his flushed face.
His heart had been racing from those words, and somewhere along the way, as they spent time together, he’d been falling deeper under Ashard’s spell.
“It’s about time. Shall we go?”
As naturally as if Eren were his personal wheelchair, Ashard scooped him up into his arms.
At first, the servants’ gazes had wavered awkwardly seeing him carry Eren everywhere, but by now, they barely reacted—completely used to the sight.
“We’ll have to fix your clothes again. Wouldn’t want anyone else seeing those marks.”
“You say that, but you look like you want them to see.”
“If I did, would you leave them out in the open?”
Eren narrowed his eyes in mock-annoyance at Ashard’s teasing reply.
His quick fingers adjusted his clothes, hiding the faint mark from view.
Cradled securely in Ashard’s arms, Eren climbed into the carriage.
The flimsy excuse that carrying him would make it easier to disembark later meant Eren had no choice but to remain in his embrace all the way to the hunting grounds.
The tournament was for nobles only, held on the imperial hunting grounds owned by the royal family.
It was barely a thirty-minute ride from the Fridit estate.
As they stepped off the carriage, the fresh scent of grass filled the air.
The vast forest, befitting a hunting ground, stretched endlessly, its dense greenery blocking the horizon.
Seats were assigned, given how many noble families participated.
Though the entire empire already buzzed with rumors of Eren and Ashard’s relationship, they were not yet officially wed, so Eren technically wasn’t part of the Fridit family.
Yet, no matter how much he searched, there was no seat labeled Nefendis.
Even Helid, newly appointed to nobility, had a seat.
Julius and Carlyle too. It made no sense for him to be left out entirely.
Even those unable to compete due to circumstance had assigned seats—the rule was clear: each family had a guaranteed place.
“Lord Ashard, I… I don’t think I have a seat.”
“You do.”
“I’ve looked everywhere, but there’s no seat marked Nefendis…”
“That’s because your seat isn’t there.”
The higher a family’s status, the higher their seats were positioned.
Still holding Eren, Ashard ascended past the Marquis family seating, heading towards where the Dukes sat.
“…We’re going to the Fridit seats, aren’t we?”
Eren asked, but Ashard didn’t answer.
Even being carried like this was already attracting enough attention, but as they neared the Fridit family’s area, more and more noble gazes followed them.
“L-Lord Ashard?”
Eren, flustered, called out to him, convinced they were headed for the Fridit seats.
But Ashard walked right past them, climbing even higher without stopping.
Seats were arranged by rank—the Fridit and Firentium Ducal houses were near the top.
Beyond that… only one possibility remained.
“I thought you’d hate it if I told you in advance.”
“W-Wait, hold on—”
“Your seat is here.”
Ashard pointed to a spot right beside the Empress, Luan.
Eren blinked rapidly, wondering if he was dreaming, but nothing changed.
Ashard’s hand unmistakably indicated the empty seat next to the Empress.
There were only four members of the royal family—the Emperor, Empress, and their children, Melody and Elyrion.
Yet there were five seats prepared, as if planned in advance.
Eren turned to Ashard, wordlessly demanding an explanation.
Ashard, visibly guilty, averted his eyes.
“…It’s the safest place for you.”
“Even so, isn’t this a bit much?”
“Someone was awfully desperate for that grand prize, remember? I can’t be by your side during the tournament, so just this once, bear with me.”
Before Eren could protest, Ashard hurriedly set him down in the seat and slipped away.
Abandoned beside the Emperor and Empress, Eren’s eyes wavered uncontrollably, left alone in the most conspicuous seat of all.
“Welcome, Count.”
The first to greet Eren warmly was the Empress.
He had intended to greet her first, but thanks to Ashard, who had left him awkwardly standing there alone, he’d completely forgotten.
Flustered, Eren hurriedly bowed his head.
“Have you been well, Your Majesty? And His Majesty the Emperor—is he in good health?”
The Emperor looked at Eren briefly and nodded lightly.
“Of course. And you as well… ah…”
The Empress, who had been quietly observing Eren, trailed off mid-sentence.
Her gaze had landed on Eren’s ankle, wrapped tightly in bandages.
Unconsciously, Eren tucked his foot behind him and let out an awkward laugh.
“Haha… It’s fine now, really.”
“I heard what Viscount Yulta did to you. Melody personally handed down punishment—did you hear about that?”
In Epentel, Helid was practically the Emperor’s favored sword.
If he committed a crime, the Emperor would cover it up, so naturally, there were never any punishments.
Perhaps because of that, Eren hadn’t even considered it, so he asked back, surprised.
“Punishment…?”
“I figured that fool Ashard didn’t tell you. The punishment wasn’t exactly worthy of someone of noble rank, but you needn’t worry. For the Viscount, it was probably humiliating enough.”
A lowly punishment?
Humiliation?
Normally, Helid was the one dishing those out.
The thought of him being on the receiving end was hard to even imagine.
“Of course, punishment aside, you still have the option to formally accuse him. But given that it’s classified as an attempted crime, the outcome may not be what you want.”
Accusing a fellow noble was never advantageous.
Win or lose, the trial alone would tarnish the family name.
* * *
