* * *
The apartment listed in the address was in one of the most luxurious neighborhoods in Eternita, where only the wealthiest of the wealthy lived.
Outside, uniformed guards patrolled the premises, and every visitor’s identity was meticulously verified at the entrance.
Compared to the extravagantly dressed elites, Ben, in his plain attire, worried he might stand out as suspicious.
However, as soon as he stated his name at the entrance, he was allowed through without issue.
“…This place is insane.”
The high-speed elevator was so smooth that it didn’t even produce the slightest vibration.
When Ben arrived at the apartment door, he was met with a plush red carpet.
From a barely habitable institution-provided one-room apartment on his meager salary to standing in front of a luxury apartment key in hand—it felt almost ridiculous.
The change was so drastic that he even wondered if the keycard in his hand was fake or if he had come to the wrong unit.
But then he noticed a box by the door—a packed crate of his belongings, sent from Hermannsen.
Only then did reality truly sink in.
Beep.
When he scanned the keycard, the door unlocked with a soft click.
Stepping in cautiously, Ben took in the apartment’s sleek monochrome aesthetic.
The living room featured a massive black leather sofa, a marble coffee table, and rows of high-quality wooden bookshelves.
There was even a spacious kitchen with an island counter, designed for both functionality and elegance.
It was flawless. Too flawless.
And yet, Ben had to remind himself—this was his home now.
Placing the box he was carrying onto the table and switching on the lights, Ben took in the view of the cityscape through the large glass window next to the living room.
The bedroom was situated in the innermost part of the house, where a spacious king-size bed stood prominently.
And sitting right there on the bed was a man.
“You could have said something if you were here.”
It wasn’t as if the man was hard of hearing—he must have known Ben had arrived.
But what bothered Ben more was the fact that there was only one bed.
No, he had expected this. There was no point in acting surprised now.
Suppressing his inner turmoil, Ben casually tossed the papers and keycard from his pocket onto the bed.
Haimar, who had been silently watching him without responding, made Ben all the more self-conscious.
Trying to shake it off, he took off his jacket and put it away as he normally would.
Seriously, why did this man look so infuriatingly handsome even with a blank expression?
His striking features only added to the chilly aura he exuded—his presence was as cold as the color of his eyes.
Ben hadn’t noticed it before, likely because of the forced politeness Haimar usually put on, but this was probably his true nature.
“You could’ve at least told me we’d be living together.”
“She must have explained it to you. What, are you afraid I’ll eat you?”
“…Would you really?”
Haimar smirked playfully, but Ben didn’t react and instead shuffled out to the living room in his indoor slippers, pulling a few comfortable clothes from an apple box.
“If it’s uncomfortable, I can sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not that shameless.”
“It’s fine. I don’t sleep much anyway. Doesn’t even feel like real sleep.”
Ben paused in the doorway, looking at him with an unreadable expression.
As Haimar swept back his platinum hair, his eyes grew cold again.
Something he had read in the documents from Moria surfaced in Ben’s mind.
‘Sleep requires letting your guard down completely, but since he always has to suppress himself, he can’t fall into a deep sleep.’
“…Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.”
With nothing else to say, Ben awkwardly changed the topic, to which Haimar responded in a flat tone, leaning against the headboard.
The atmosphere grew increasingly uncomfortable, and unable to bear it any longer, Ben grabbed his clothes and headed to the bathroom to shower.
It didn’t take him long to return.
As he stepped into the bedroom, toweling off his damp hair, he found Haimar flipping through the papers he had left on the bed.
“What’s this?”
He waved one of them in the air—it was a printout from a special lecture Ben had attended earlier today.
“Oh, that—Moria wanted to hear about it, so I had no choice but to sit through it!”
Great. Now he probably looked like someone with way too much free time.
“A health massage seminar?”
“Well, it turned out to be pretty useful!”
Ben stammered, but Haimar leisurely flipped through the pages, reading carefully.
The more he explained, the worse he felt, and his growing anxiety made him blurt out something without thinking.
“It was… actually quite helpful! Want me to try it on you?!”
What the hell did I just say?
Realizing what had just come out of his mouth, Ben bit his lip and glanced at Haimar.
His expression was unreadable.
The brief silence that followed made Ben desperately wish he could take back his words.
There were things you said and things you didn’t say, and this definitely belonged to the latter.
At least Haimar wasn’t answering right away.
That was something.
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to—”
“No, it sounds interesting. What do I do?”
…Shit.
Ben had been about to back out, but Haimar smoothly cut him off.
Now, without even a chance to retract his words, he resigned himself to his fate, mentally vowing to tear that damn printout to shreds later.
Taking a deep breath, he moved behind Haimar, who was still seated on the bed.
“I learned that this is supposed to help with sleep… though I’m not sure if it’ll actually work.”
“Do you have to do it from behind?”
What kind of question was that?
“Well, yeah.”
Giving a slightly annoyed response, Ben placed his hands on Haimar’s neck, following the technique he had learned.
Haimar had never let anyone get this close to his back before.
The moment Ben’s hands touched his neck, he instinctively tensed as if an enemy had seized his blind spot.
The man behind him had no idea he had nearly gotten himself killed.
Letting someone touch his neck and back like this was practically an act of trust—or recklessness.
Not that it would have mattered if an enemy had attacked him; it wouldn’t do any real damage.
But the very fact that he was letting someone touch him at all was unfamiliar.
It was proof of how detached he had been from human contact.
For a brief moment, he considered stopping Ben.
But then, warmth seeped into him from the gentle pressure of Ben’s hands.
It wasn’t just the massage—it was something else.
Besides, Ben was his guide.
Maybe that was the only reason he was allowing this.
“Was it like this…?”
Ben hesitated slightly but didn’t stop, his hands moving carefully over Haimar’s neck and grazing the shell of his ear.
When his thumb pressed lightly behind Haimar’s ear, a strange sensation spread from the point of contact.
It started as a faint ticklishness before sinking deep into his muscles, seeping down his neck and chest, leaving him feeling oddly drowsy.
If Ben could see his face right now, he’d probably be shocked at how relaxed he looked.
After a long while, Ben seemed to be wrapping up, his rough hands making a few final, thorough motions before starting to pull away.
Without thinking, Haimar reached back and caught his wrist.
“…Haimar?”
It wasn’t even a particularly delicate touch, yet he found himself reluctant to let go.
Haimar, who had never enjoyed physical contact, pressed his lips lightly against Ben’s hand and murmured,
“This much is fine, right?”
“I… I guess so. But it tickles.”
Ben had held his hand before, so that wasn’t the issue, but talking while keeping his lips pressed against his skin felt embarrassingly intimate.
And when Haimar’s grip on his wrist tightened, a tingling sensation shot up Ben’s arm.
He instinctively tried to pull away—
And then, warm, wet heat flicked against the back of his hand.
“W-Wait—!”
What the hell was this guy doing?!
With one arm held in place, Ben had no choice but to lean against Haimar’s back.
He tried pushing against him with his free hand, but Haimar didn’t budge.
He didn’t even seem fazed by the resistance.
Instead, he spoke again, this time in an almost teasing tone.
“Are we done?”
“I was just about to finish!”
“I didn’t hate it. Want to do more?”
“If you let go of my hand, I’ll… consider it.”
“Sounds good. If you said no, I was going to bite you.”
Wow. How incredibly generous.
As soon as the grip on his wrist loosened, Ben hurriedly pulled his arm free, rubbing the lingering heat off his hand against his clothes.
With a sulky expression, he glared daggers at the back of the man’s head.
Since he couldn’t do it to his face, he might as well shoot as many daggers as he could from behind.
Contrary to his expression, Ben’s hands were diligent.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Haimar’s neck again, this time pressing his fingers into it with more emotion than before.
A guy like him wouldn’t even flinch at this level of force, and honestly, this much mischief was only fair.
Though it did feel a little futile to throw a tantrum when the other person didn’t react at all.
Meanwhile, Haimar was focusing on the energy coursing through him, trying to suppress the wild surge inside.
Not enough.
Yes, it wasn’t enough.
He needed something deeper, something more.
His instincts screamed for it.
* * *
