* * *
Killian didn’t take his eyes off the space between Nael’s parted thighs.
His gaze held a clear intent—to witness everything.
It was bad enough that he’d been caught, but doing this in front of him was humiliating.
To make matters worse, his once-exhausted length was beginning to stir to life again under Killian’s scrutiny.
‘You really have no sense, do you?’
Nael glared resentfully at his own arousal, but Killian’s quiet sigh snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Do I really have to…?”
“Would you rather deal with the pain instead of the embarrassment?”
So he did understand that this was mortifying.
That meant he was doing this on purpose, to tease him.
His master was wicked when it came to anything sexual.
“…Hnngh.”
As he tensed his lower abdomen, the thick liquid pooled deep inside finally began to ooze out in heavy drips.
Gathering it with his fingers, he let it spill onto the sheets.
By the time the stain had grown large enough to cover his palm, Nael was finally able to pull his fingers free.
He had almost stopped several times midway, but Killian had scoffed that he had come far more than that, making him continue.
His breathing was ragged.
‘Haa…’
Struggling to catch his breath, Nael reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, but Killian clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Tsk. Do you plan to touch the glass with those hands? Open your mouth.”
“But…”
“Haa.”
Killian let out a sharp breath—like a parent scolding a petulant child.
Nael hesitated, then obediently parted his lips into a small ‘o.’
Cool water trickled in, bit by bit.
Only after confirming that Nael had swallowed did Killian pour in more.
“Your Grace, you were here.”
Len entered the room with a basin of water and a towel.
‘Gasp.’
Still completely naked, Nael sucked in a breath and yanked the blanket over himself.
Killian barely spared Ren a glance before turning back to Nael.
“I have business to attend to. Get some rest.”
“…Yes.”
Killian exited the room as quietly as he had entered.
Despite his massive frame, his footsteps were eerily silent.
Sensing Nael’s confusion, Ren explained.
“His Grace is skilled in assassination. It’s natural for him to move without a sound. Not all battles are fought face-to-face.”
“I see…”
It felt like a different world.
His home had nothing to do with war—always peaceful, quiet, untouched by invasion or pillaging.
At most, minor crimes would occur within its borders, but there was never anything worth serious concern.
At least, not as far as he had known.
Killian’s world, on the other hand, was one of blood and danger.
You could tell just by looking at the scars covering his body.
“I’ll help you clean up.”
“T-That won’t be necessary. I can do it myself.”
“Lord Nael, you can order me around as you please.”
“But…”
“If it’s because you’re embarrassed, I can step outside.”
Nael hesitated, then asked, “Can I open the window? Is it nighttime?”
Ren let out a soft sigh and shook his head as if in pity. “So, Kilian wouldn’t let you.”
Nael lowered his lashes, his expression solemn.
“His Highness expects you to arrive in the North safely after this long voyage. However…”
Len glanced toward the bedroom door as he walked to the window.
“A little while should be fine.”
He winked.
Nael let out a small laugh.
It wasn’t much, but it felt like they were playing a harmless prank behind Kilian’s back.
A gust of cool sea breeze rushed in.
If he weren’t naked, he would have run over and let the wind wash over his face.
The sun dipped toward the horizon, staining the vast blue sea with deep red hues.
For a moment, Nael forgot his circumstances, completely captivated by the breathtaking view.
The sunset was so magnificent that he couldn’t help but admire it.
The day aboard the ship was coming to an end.
“I’ll close it now.”
It felt like returning from a brief escape.
He was reluctant to shut the window, unwilling to let go of the refreshing sea air—but the consequences of being caught were far too dire to risk.
I should ask my master first.
“Shall I bring you your meal?”
“I’ll just eat the bread you gave me.”
“Are you sure that will be enough?”
Ren, unaware that Nael had given the rest to Edward, looked at him seriously.
“Ah, yes.”
“Then, please rest. I’ll be outside.”
The moment Ren left the room, Nael hastily wiped himself down, threw on some clothes, and carefully stepped outside, carrying the bread with him.
Crumbs and jam clung to Edward’s beard in patches.
His hands moved in a frenzy, shoving food into his mouth—he must have been starving.
Smacking his lips, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand and licked off the jam stuck to his fingers.
“The sailors seem to have noticed I’m missing.”
John trembled as he clutched a piece of bread.
Edward, without hesitation, snatched it from him and stuffed it into his already full mouth.
He chewed, his puffed-up cheeks making him look like a blowfish, and stared at Nael.
“At this point, it’d be better to just tell the Grand Duke that I’m here.”
“That would mean admitting that we snuck in.”
“John, that’s exactly why you need me. Your thinking is too narrow. We didn’t sneak in—we boarded the ship openly and proudly.”
“Proudly…?”
“Yes. Why would we cower in this filthy place out of fear? Look at Nael.”
Edward sniffed the air.
“He reeks of expensive oils, all perfumed and refined. He’s generous enough to show mercy even to a fool like you.”
“That doesn’t mean it applies to us, though. If you’re so proud, why don’t you go out there yourself instead of pushing Nael forward?”
“Ahem. The protagonist always enters late—”
“And who’s the protagonist? Even a side character wouldn’t have a role like this. War, my ass—look at this!”
John waved his arm in frustration.
The dust-covered sleeves of his shirt flapped right in front of Edward’s face.
Edward scowled and pushed him away.
“No food, no bath, and we can’t even say we’re here. Tch!”
“You little—!”
“Go ahead and tell the Baron when we get back. If we make it back, that is.”
John sounded doubtful.
Nael could only nod in agreement.
These men had never faced Kilian directly.
They didn’t know what he was like.
But then again, neither did Nael.
He was the kind of man who would stand motionless in the middle of a battlefield, indifferent to the bloodshed around him.
He wasn’t called the God of War for nothing.
Nael could easily picture him crushing a person beneath that massive hand, completely unfeeling.
Nael feared him.
A shiver ran down his spine.
“Nael, if by chance…”
“Hm?”
John hesitated.
Edward, either pretending not to notice or genuinely oblivious, said nothing.
Nael’s usual bright smile was gone.
His clothes looked pristine, but his pale neck bore faint bruises that hadn’t been fully hidden.
Even in the dim light, the subtle change in Nael’s demeanor unsettled John.
“…Never mind. Just be careful. If it’s too risky, you don’t have to bring food. Got it?”
“What, so you’re going to sneak into the kitchen and steal it yourself?”
“Young Master, enough. Do you think it’s easy for Nael?”
“Tsk. Nael, you don’t know how lucky you are. Dressed in fine clothes, serving at the Grand Duke’s side, yet you tried to run away. Foolish beyond words.”
“Young Master!”
John hurriedly clamped a hand over Edward’s mouth, but it was too late—the words had already spilled out.
“You should be grateful. Do you realize how fortunate you are to be the one to receive his passion? You should have seen yourself when you were dragged back—it was hilarious.”
Edward laughed as if reminiscing about a fond memory.
Nael clenched his fists, fighting back tears.
So he saw.
Forget being stripped and beaten—he had heard Nael screaming, begging to go back.
Nael couldn’t bear to stay there any longer.
He needed to get away. His eyes burned.
Returning to Kilian’s chambers would be better than this.
“Young Master, please drink less. What if the Grand Duke gets angry? Nael, don’t take it to heart—he’s been drinking again.”
John kicked an empty bottle on the floor, sending it rolling.
The sound of glass clinking echoed down the corridor.
* * *
