* * *

Lowell woke up alone in a white room.

Blinking at the emptiness around him, he struggled to piece together why he was there.

For someone accustomed to solitude, the quiet felt oddly oppressive.

“Is anyone there?” he called out.

To his surprise, black magic began to swirl at his feet, rising like a shadowy mist.

Though it might have frightened others, Lowell chuckled faintly.

The sight reminded him of someone who had become all too familiar.

“Is that you, Your Grace?”

He reached out to touch the magic, which responded cautiously, as if to reassure him.

“It’s less lonely with you here,” Lowell murmured.

The black magic gradually coalesced, taking the shape of a small jaguar.

Lowell gently stroked the creature, noting its large paws and sturdy body despite its youthful form.

“A jaguar?”

The little black jaguar nestled into Lowell’s arms, its striking blue eyes filled with affection.

It nuzzled against him, rubbing its head against Lowell’s face repeatedly.

“That tickles.”

Lowell suddenly realized this must be a vision—a dream tied to the child he was carrying.

“Why did you wait so long to show yourself? I thought you weren’t coming.”

Though he hadn’t felt much attachment before, holding the small creature stirred something in him.

His chest felt tight, overwhelmed with a mix of emotions.

“If I’d known you were this adorable, I would’ve been kinder,” he whispered.

The jaguar’s presence reminded Lowell of his precarious condition—barely pregnant, recovering from a stabbing, and grappling with illness.

He wondered how much hardship the child must have endured.

“Of all people, you chose me—a man who never even imagined being pregnant.” His voice carried a hint of regret.

Sensing Lowell’s unease, the jaguar rubbed its head against his abdomen, as if to comfort him.

“Where are you sending me?”

Abruptly, the jaguar nudged Lowell toward an unseen destination, pushing him forward insistently.

“See you next time,” Lowell said softly, watching the jaguar until it faded from view.

As he moved forward, dizziness overcame him, but he pressed on, suppressing the urge to look back.

Then, a voice called to him.

“Lowell.”

It was a desperate, almost prayer-like plea.

“Open your eyes, Lowell.”

Recognizing the voice, Lowell didn’t resist. He pushed forward, knowing someone was waiting for him.

Someone who needed him.

✨✨✨

The first thing Lowell saw when he regained consciousness and opened his eyes was Felix’s face, filled with worry.

His expression, so serious it seemed sorrowful, made Lowell let out a faint chuckle.

Perhaps it was because he had just met a young jaguar moments ago, but Felix’s image overlapped with that memory.

‘‘He’s adorable.’’

Lowell silently observed Felix for a while.

The despair that clouded Felix’s dark eyes gradually faded, replaced by a flicker of hope, glowing like embers reigniting.

Lowell could tell from that alone that Felix hadn’t cried or prayed, but instead had been making a desperate, heartfelt wish.

‘‘It was Felix who called me back.’’

Lowell slowly sat up and glanced around.

The unfamiliar room was luxurious but lacked any sign of being lived in.

The expensive furniture was neatly arranged, yet the absence of wear only emphasized the lack of warmth.

It made sense, though, as this was likely one of the rooms reserved for visiting nobles, like Felix, who traveled from distant territories during the “Festival of Blessings.”

“How long have I been out?” Lowell asked, feeling a bit self-conscious about uttering a line straight out of a novel.

“Two days.”

Not half a day, but two whole days.

Lowell was taken aback by Felix’s response and shut his mouth.

If he’d been unconscious for that long, Felix’s worry was entirely justified.

“I thought I’d lost you. Because of me. Again,” Felix muttered, still caught up in his turmoil, blaming himself repeatedly.

His bloodshot eyes and the fact that he was still in the same outfit from the banquet spoke volumes.

It seemed he hadn’t left Lowell’s side even for a moment, remembering how Lowell had asked him to stay close.

He held Lowell’s hand like a lifeline, unable to let go.

Lowell glanced down at his cramped hand and finally spoke.

“What happened to me was the fault of the person who attacked, not you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“I broke our contract. I swore to protect you.”

Lowell’s gaze shifted to Felix’s other hand.

He had clenched his fist so tightly that dried blood crusted over his knuckles.

Looking down, Lowell noticed a pool of blood on the floor as well.

‘‘Why did the priest leave Felix in this state?’’

A wave of frustration swept through Lowell’s chest.

Most people wouldn’t feel guilt over breaking a hastily made contract.

But Felix was clinging to the faint warmth he had recently received, unaware of how it was affecting him.

Or perhaps he knew but pretended not to, out of fear of being abandoned again someday.

So he used the contract as an excuse, rationalizing his behavior by claiming it was because he had failed to uphold it.

Lowell could easily trace the path of Felix’s thoughts.

Rather than forcing Felix to confront those feelings directly, Lowell decided to ease his guilt first.

“If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been stabbed much deeper in the abdomen. That kind of injury would’ve been life-threatening.”

Though the wound had vanished without a trace, the memory of the injury lingered, leaving Lowell short of breath.

Steadying his breathing, he gently caressed Felix’s hand.

“Thank you. You saved my life, Felix.”

Lowell’s clear blue eyes met Felix’s dark ones.

Felix, unaccustomed to receiving sincere gratitude—having faced far more resentment and hatred in his life—averted his gaze, at a loss for words.

Then, abruptly, he changed the subject.

“The one who attacked you is scheduled to be executed. It’s been confirmed he secretly employed unregistered soldiers, so there’s no escaping punishment.”

Lowell smirked bitterly at the seemingly predetermined outcome.

He could guess what had truly transpired.

‘‘Was it the discovery of treason that came first, or my stabbing?’’

Even as he asked himself, Lowell felt certain it was the former.

‘‘They probably promised to spare his family or wife if he obeyed. Though whether that vile emperor would keep his word is another matter. Still, he must’ve been desperate enough to cling to false hope.’’

Recalling one of the emperor’s signature tactics from the novel, Lowell scoffed.

He despised both the man who committed the act out of desperation and the emperor who exploited that desperation.

“What a dangerous individual,” Lowell muttered.

Whether Felix knew the emperor’s intentions or not, Lowell saw no reason to elaborate.

Adding unnecessary stress wouldn’t help Felix, nor was it wise to reveal how much Lowell understood about the situation.

“You’re awfully calm about the person who tried to kill you being sentenced to death. I thought you’d be shocked or relieved.”

“From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem like his actions were entirely his own.”

Lowell had no interest in dwelling on matters outside his control.

“Is that so?”

The bed creaked softly as Felix climbed onto it.

The proximity between them closed, and a gentle warmth hung in the air.

The unrestrained smoky apple scent Felix carried added a strange undertone to the atmosphere.

Lowell instinctively shifted backward, only to bump against the headboard, leaving him with no escape.

“By the way, because of me, the Festival of Blessings celebrations ended in chaos.”

Lowell changed the subject to escape the growing tension.

Regardless of his sympathy for Felix, he wasn’t ready to reciprocate Felix’s feelings and found himself retreating.

“The banquet carried on as usual while you were unconscious. That’s how those nauseating nobles operate.”

Though Felix himself was a noble, his disdain was evident.

Lowell, relieved by the lessening pheromones, responded softly.

“No, I meant your Festival of Blessings was ruined because you stayed to take care of me. Even if it wasn’t fun, I wish it hadn’t been unpleasant for you.”

Lowell couldn’t care less about the other attendees.

None of them had stepped forward when he was injured, except Felix.

Humanity’s tendency to prioritize those closest to them felt natural to Lowell, so he wasn’t disappointed.

For the same reason, he had no interest in their well-being.

“All for show. None of them genuinely enjoy those banquets.”

It was a clumsy attempt at comfort, but Lowell caught the underlying kindness in Felix’s words.

“Still, it’s an annual event. It would’ve been nice to leave with at least one good memory.”

“Were you looking forward to the banquet?”

Felix seemed to consider the situation from Lowell’s perspective for a moment.

His sudden shift in thinking was remarkable, and Lowell wanted to applaud him, though he settled for silently cheering him on.

“Not exactly, but it was the first banquet we attended together.”

The dance they had practiced ended in a mess, and a traumatic incident followed.

Even without high expectations, Lowell couldn’t help feeling a bit regretful.

* * *