* * *
Late at night.
That fleeting moment between the end of a day and the start of another —
Only one room in the Fridit estate was faintly lit.
From within the darkness that even swallowed the stars, a faint tapping sound echoed.
Delicate fingers, far too fine to belong to someone who had wielded a sword for years, tapped lightly against a desk.
The rhythm, like the ticking of a second hand, soon ceased.
As the downcast eyes slowly lifted, long lashes followed upward —
revealing emerald eyes that glinted unnaturally in the dim light.
“A gift, given while looking at me with such wary eyes.”
At some point, the ring Eren had handed him had found its place on his fourth finger.
Julius gently touched the ring and murmured in a low voice:
“You knew I wouldn’t be able to refuse.”
There was no way the gift was given out of pure goodwill.
Recalling the earlier scene, Julius scoffed in disbelief.
Ashard Fridit, who usually leapt to Eren’s defense, hadn’t reacted at all.
He would’ve normally caused a scene—unless, of course, he knew something.
‘How brazen.’
Julius, convinced there was another reason behind the gift of the ring, stared at it with a knowing expression.
After a moment of hesitation, he seemed about to take it off, but then slid it back onto his finger.
He didn’t know what this cutesy move was meant to achieve, but it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t just an ordinary ring.
Julius had no intention of leaving the estate where Eren was staying, so it didn’t matter if it had a tracking spell or even an eavesdropping one.
If anything, the opposite was true—he hoped it did have some magic on it.
If someone was watching him—tracking where he was, what he said, what he did…
“Look at me, Count Nefendis. See how much I desire you.”
Just imagining it made a heaviness stir in his lower belly.
Seeing the thick bulge forming beneath his pants, Julius sighed, a crooked smile tugging at his lips as he loosened his belt.
It had only been five hours since dinner.
Not long since he’d last cooled down his body, overheated from thinking of Eren.
But his arousal had no intention of subsiding.
Even in the dark, it stood out prominently.
Gripping himself, Julius began to move his hand up and down.
As if it were Eren, not his own hand, bringing him pleasure, he whispered Eren’s name repeatedly under his breath.
Slap, slap—the obscene, wet sounds filled the room, blending with his ragged breathing.
Julius didn’t stop.
He kept going.
It wasn’t overwhelming pleasure, but he felt far better than usual.
A cool, firm pressure from the ring on his finger added an extra sensation.
His hand, which had slid down to the base, took a while to come back up.
He started to speed up.
His breathing grew harsher.
And then, as his hand stilled, thick, sticky semen burst from the tip of his cock.
“Haa… fuck.”
Julius pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked at the semen on his hand.
He had no shortage of people willing to offer themselves to him at a word.
It would’ve been the same even if this were the Trovien Empire instead of Epentel.
That wasn’t confidence—it was certainty. He could see the desire in their eyes, always.
He could’ve pulled in any servant working in this estate to satisfy his lust.
Anyone who laid eyes on Julius—man or woman—showed a desire to possess him.
They’d even throw themselves at him, begging to sleep with him.
Yet even though he hadn’t truly satisfied himself, Julius re-fastened his belt.
It wasn’t because of some noble reason like not sleeping with just anyone.
Whether in the estate, the palace, or on the battlefield, he’d long since worn out his body.
If someone was ready to spread their legs, he’d fuck them without hesitation.
“Because of you, no one else feels good enough. Damn it.”
He muttered irritably as he wiped his hand.
Ever since he’d started thinking about Eren, being with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.
It was far better to masturbate alone, thinking only of Eren.
“Still, this might go easier than expected.”
Julius smirked, lifting only one corner of his mouth.
Given how flushed Eren’s ears and nape had been—how the fluids were visibly leaking below—it seemed the ring was working exactly as intended.
‘To think he wouldn’t even realize it…’
Eren was one of the most intelligent people Julius had ever met.
But only when it didn’t involve himself.
Julius already knew the truth about Eren and Ashard’s relationship.
Since arriving at this estate, he’d wandered the halls at night trying to find Eren’s room—but had no luck.
The only room he hadn’t checked was the one belonging to Ashard, the master of the house.
Which meant, with high probability, Eren was staying there.
One predator knows another.
Just as Ashard had sensed unease from the three guests, Julius had immediately seen through Ashard as well.
Ashard might not whore himself around like Julius did—but when it came to Eren, that restraint clearly didn’t apply.
Maybe Carlyle would’ve minded, but Julius didn’t.
Even if Eren had spread his legs and moaned beneath Ashard, it wasn’t a big deal.
Sooner or later, Eren would come to want Julius anyway.
“You’ll beg me to fuck you with your own lips soon, Count.”
In the end, what mattered was who would claim Eren in the end.
The process, the method—none of that mattered. Just like in war, the one who wins takes it all.
Julius absentmindedly touched the brooch pinned to the left side of his shirt.
The scent of roses that Eren had left on it grew even stronger.
The thick fragrance showed no signs of fading.
The dizzying scent slowly spread through every corner of the room.
‘Something’s… definitely wrong.’
By now, the artifact’s effect should’ve worn off—but there was no sign of it.
Ever since last night, Eren’s body kept overheating to the point he couldn’t function normally.
Every time something brushed against him below—like when sitting in a chair—his underwear, even his pants, would be soaked.
It was driving him crazy.
“I think you should see a doctor.”
“Why? You’re still not feeling well? Hold on, I’ll call my personal physician right away.”
Ashard, noticing Eren’s pale complexion, rushed to open the door.
He’d thought Eren was fine, but maybe last night had been too much.
As he turned to summon the physician, a weak tug on his sleeve made him glance back.
“Um… I’d rather go to a private doctor instead…”
Since staying at the Fridit estate, Eren had seen the family doctor more times than expected.
Ashard, who was oblivious to his own injuries but wouldn’t tolerate a scratch on Eren, was part of the reason.
Still, Eren preferred to avoid someone he saw that often.
He couldn’t very well say: ‘I used an adult artifact to make penetration easier during sex, but now it keeps making me leak arousal fluids and I’m losing my mind.’
That would just make things awkward.
He didn’t want that.
But whether Ashard understood that or not, he shook his head and gently reassured Eren.
“A private doctor won’t do. The family physician is far more skilled than you realize. Just wait a bit.”
“No, that’s not it…”
“Then I’ll ask my brother to send the imperial physician—”
“That’s not it either, Lord Ashard!”
Eren liked that Ashard cared so much, but that wasn’t the point.
At Eren’s sudden outburst, Ashard looked down at him, puzzled.
Eren fidgeted nervously, wondering whether or not to explain.
“…It’s because…”
“What?”
His voice was so low it was hard to make out what he was saying.
Unable to raise his voice for this particular line, Eren let out a sigh and gently tugged on Ashard’s sleeve.
* * *
