* * *
“Seafood! It’s seafood. The head chef said to bring it from the shade—he insisted it be delivered for Count Nefendis’ meal.”
“But the ingredients were brought in this morning.”
“The seafood wasn’t in great condition, so he told me to get fresh ones.”
Did it work?
Eren glanced sideways at the knights.
They didn’t look completely convinced, but at least they weren’t eyeing him as suspiciously as before.
“It’s fine. Everyone knows the head chef is picky about inspecting ingredients. He’s in and out of the place dozens of times a day—just let him through.”
One of the knights, watching from a distance, yawned as he spoke.
Perhaps convinced by his words, the knight blocking Eren waved him off like he couldn’t care less.
Eren barely managed to enter the villa and immediately ran to his room.
He wouldn’t feel safe until he hid these items somewhere.
He deeply regretted following that man.
But now wasn’t the time for regrets.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
Just as he was about to enter the room, a voice called from the end of the hallway.
Eren was suddenly reminded of how he looked.
He had been aware before stepping into the villa, but he’d gotten so distracted by the things hidden in his cloak that he’d forgotten.
“Count Nefendis asked me to prepare a change of clothes for him.”
“Oh, did he? Help him quickly and come out—His Grace has already arrived.”
Eren bowed his head politely and slipped into the room.
The moment he was finally in a safe place, relief washed over him.
“That was close…”
Muttering to himself, Eren pulled down the hood that had been covering his head.
As he exhaled and looked down at the floor, he didn’t notice what was in front of him—and bumped into it.
“What was close?”
A familiar voice came from above him.
It was Ashard, dressed in uniform, likely having prepared for inspection duties.
He looked down at Eren with a chilling expression.
As Eren recoiled in surprise, Ashard closed the distance with long strides.
“Where have you been, Eren? And what’s with this outfit?”
Eren kept his lips tightly shut. Better to say nothing than to offer a flimsy excuse.
Ashard’s brow twitched at Eren’s stubborn silence.
What had he been doing to come back dressed like this?
He clearly had something to hide—but Ashard found himself unable to get angry.
‘Damn it. He even looks good in that get-up, so I can’t even be mad…’
Ashard swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.
Few people could hold back when seeing their lover in such unfamiliar attire.
Justifying his raw instincts as natural, Ashard clenched his teeth.
“…Fine. Just this once—I’ll let it go. Whatever it is you’re hiding.”
He roughly ran his hand through his hair, veins standing out on his wrist where his sleeve had slid back.
A sign of how hard he was struggling to stay rational.
Eren blinked at him, surprised.
Then, as if deciding to get changed, he scurried deeper into the room.
As he passed by Ashard and the space between them shrank—his foot caught on something.
‘I’m falling!’
As the floor rushed toward him, Eren squeezed his eyes shut.
There should have been a loud thud and pain, but there was neither.
Apparently, Ashard had caught him just in time.
“Thank you—”
Clatter—
Nope. The gods clearly weren’t on his side today.
Because of the way he’d pitched forward, the devices hidden in his cloak tumbled out into the open.
They spilled noisily onto the floor, rolling and bouncing—one of them even tapped gently against Ashard’s boot.
‘Damn it…’
Eren hurried to pick them up, but Ashard was faster.
Snatching them off the ground, he silently looked down.
‘So this is what it feels like when your blood runs cold.’
Eren’s entire body seemed to freeze from head to toe.
He was half a second from lunging at Ashard to grab the things from his hands and hurl them out the window.
He stole a glance at Ashard.
His face was unreadably dark, obviously furious.
Not only had Eren gone out in such a suspicious outfit, but the things he’d been hiding… were adult toys.
Smiling and laughing it off would have been the real insanity.
Ashard didn’t say a word—but stepped forward with terrifying swiftness.
He went straight to the door, flung it open, and shouted:
“Tell them I’ll handle my own meals. No need to prepare anything. And as of now, no one is allowed on the second floor without my permission.”
His orders were sharp and final.
The door slammed shut—and locked with an audible click.
Eren’s eyes flickered with unease.
Ashard threw him onto the bed.
Not roughly, but forcefully enough that Eren flopped down with a bounce.
“I’m not here to test my patience, Eren. So why don’t you explain what the hell those things were doing in your cloak?”
“T-that’s…”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked. This alone is enough of an answer… isn’t it?”
Ashard held the item up in front of Eren’s face.
A pink sex toy, clearly modeled after a man’s genitals.
It wasn’t quite as large as Ashard’s, but intimidating in its own right.
He climbed onto the bed with the other two items in hand.
Now that Eren got a better look at them—his face flushed as red as ripe fruit.
One was a thick, red rope.
The other, a flogger made of thin leather straps.
Not exactly the kind of thing one used for… “normal” encounters.
‘Of all the things to grab… why these?’
Eren wanted to scream.
He couldn’t even deny it—they were things he’d brought himself.
Meanwhile, Ashard’s gaze seemed to be getting darker by the second.
“I’ve always wondered,” Ashard murmured.
“Was this your kink all along, Eren?”
“It’s not!”
Ashard deftly pulled off the cloak draped over Eren’s shoulders.
His neck—and even the upper part of his chest—was flushed red.
When Ashard ran his hand gently down Eren’s nape, Eren’s body jolted.
“Or… is there someone else? Someone you’ve been seeing behind my back?”
“There’s no one else!”
“Then say it.”
Eren furrowed his brows, as if he couldn’t understand what Ashard meant.
He wasn’t sure why—but those words hurt more than they should have.
“If I say it… what will you do?”
“What do you mean, ‘what to do’? I should cut that bastard’s head off right now.”
“……?”
Like the setting sun fading beyond the horizon, a wave of melancholic emotion swept away in an instant.
Of course, no one except Ashard would ever say such a thing, but if someone else had said it… it felt like there’d be a literal bloodbath.
“If it’s not all of that, then only one thing remains.”
Ashard tapped Eren’s thigh with a pink object, unmistakably shaped like a phallus.
With each tap, it drifted lower, and the sensation grew increasingly sensitive.
“It seems I failed to satisfy you.”
What an absurd leap in logic.
Eren didn’t know how he’d reached that conclusion, but it was absolutely, without question, not the case.
Among everything Ashard had ever said, this was perhaps the least grounded in reality.
“Don’t worry. Today will be different from before.”
As he whispered by Eren’s ear, hot breath spilled warmly across his skin.
The slow-building stimulation made Eren push against Ashard’s firm chest, but it was futile.
As Eren kept pushing away, almost like trying to escape, Ashard let the rope in his hand fall freely.
In one swift motion, he crossed Eren’s wrists and tied them together with the rope — gently, so it wouldn’t hurt, but securely, so it wouldn’t come undone.
Then, he kissed lightly along Eren’s collarbone.
The faint scent of skin drove Ashard to the edge.
No longer able to restrain himself, he slowly lifted the skirt.
“Of all things, you had to wear something this short.”
“…Everything else was too big…”
“Only I get to see your bare skin. Do I need to leave a mark for you to understand that?”
“It’s not that short…!”
“I only lifted it a little, and I can already see everything, and you still have the nerve to say that?”
Ashard’s face twisted with displeasure.
He lightly brushed his hand along the inner thigh, then slowly leaned in — and as if he truly meant to leave a mark, he bit down hard on the tender skin.
“Ahk…!”
The sudden sting brought tears to Eren’s eyes.
He had gotten somewhat used to bites around the nape or collarbone, but this was the first time anyone had bitten the inside of his thigh.
A vivid red bite mark bloomed like a flower on the pale, soft skin.
Only then did Ashard smile, seemingly satisfied with the mark etched like a symbol of possession.
* * *
