KYDC chapter 35

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Jurgen’s eyelids closed completely, and Hernan could no longer bear to see Jurgen struggling to stand on his own two feet.

He lifted him up, holding Jurgen’s not-so-small frame that clung tighter to him, as if seeking warmth, muttering in his sleep.

Hernan felt his face flush in embarrassment at the situation and instinctively tried to cover his face with his hand, but quickly realized that doing so would drop Jurgen to the ground.

While Hernan was momentarily flustered, as if his brain had stopped functioning, Irina, who had disappeared earlier, approached and asked, “Shall I help you?”

Hernan immediately shook his head.

He wanted nothing more than to press his forehead against Jurgen’s exposed neck, but this wasn’t something he could do in the middle of the street.

Gathering his composure, Hernan adjusted his grip on Jurgen and slowly headed toward the inn. Snow was beginning to fall from the sky.

As Hernan’s fingers, exposed outside the robe while holding Jurgen, began to turn red from the cold, a faint clicking sound came from somewhere.

Hernan knew who had made that sound, but he didn’t care.

He simply wished the walk would last a little longer.

Unfortunately, the village was quite small, and it wasn’t long before they reached the inn’s entrance.

Given the weather, there was no way Hernan could wander around with someone already susceptible to the cold.

Sighing in resignation, he closed the door behind him and immediately noticed the bed that had made Jurgen exclaim, “How can anyone sleep here?” in shock.

Smiling lightly, Hernan leaned Jurgen against the bed’s headboard and began pulling out the formal clothes he had brought for changing.

He carefully placed the garments on the sheets, stacking them to create a makeshift cushion.

The fine, soft fabrics created a reasonably comfortable surface.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than sleeping curled up on the floor.

It bothered him slightly that Jurgen had fallen asleep without washing up, but they were planning to head to the hot springs first thing in the morning, so he’d wash up then.

Carefully, Hernan laid Jurgen on the pile of clothes. He loosened the robe’s fastening to make him more comfortable and took a moment to catch his breath.

Before he knew it, dawn was approaching.

“Is it already this late?”

Hernan lightly stroked Jurgen’s cheek as he watched him sleep.

He then removed Jurgen’s glasses, revealing a much softer, gentler face than the one typically hidden behind those large frames.

When he wore them, his eyebrows were always furrowed as if he was angry, but now, sleeping peacefully, he looked much like he did as a child.

“…”

Hernan found himself unable to take his eyes off Jurgen’s chest, rising and falling gently with each breath.

A mischievous thought crossed his mind.

Since he had lent him his clothes, this much should be fine, right?

Hernan carefully lay down beside Jurgen, closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of his breathing.

It was like the sound of falling snow, quietly accumulating in Hernan’s heart.

Jurgen had been worried that the poor condition of the room would prevent him from getting any sleep, but his face was serene.

Hernan smiled softly and started to rise.

“…?”

Hernan’s heart sank when he realized why his attempt to get up had failed. He opened his eyes and found Jurgen’s hand gripping his sleeve tightly, not the clothes he had laid out for him.

“Viscount.”

Calling him by his title didn’t seem to disturb him, so Hernan decided to use it, though it made his heart ache a little each time. But still, Jurgen didn’t respond.

“Mister Everdeen.”

Hernan gently shook Jurgen’s shoulder, trying to wake him, but again, there was no response.

In the end, Hernan had no choice but to call Jurgen by his name, something he had never done sober.

“Jurgen.”

There was still no response. Unable to bring himself to remove Jurgen’s hand, Hernan finally called him by the name he hadn’t uttered in years.

“Brother.”

At last, Jurgen let out a small whimper and twisted his body, as if the word had reached him somewhere deep inside.

Perhaps now he would let go of his hand.

As Hernan nervously watched, Jurgen slowly snuggled closer into his embrace.

“Wait a moment, Mister Everdeen.”

Jurgen buried his face in Hernan’s neck, as if seeking out a familiar scent, and wrapped his entire body around him.

Only then did he seem to calm down, his breathing returning to the soft, even rhythm of sleep. Hernan’s face was now as red as a ripe tomato.

Half-resigned, he subtly adjusted his pheromone levels, releasing a calming scent meant to soothe rather than arouse.

“It was like this back then, too…”

Hernan recalled the moment when Jurgen, unconscious, had clung tightly to him, trying to share what little warmth he could.

“He probably doesn’t even remember now.”

Hernan had always known Jurgen was this kind of person.

That’s why he had set the trap to lure him into his territory, pulling him in the moment he triggered the trap.

Now, all that was left was to wait.

To wait until someone who neither knew how to love nor be loved finally accepted the fact that they loved him.

Waiting was something Hernan could do indefinitely.

He had cornered the cat to the point where it was almost ready to bite, and now he just had to wait for it to come to him.

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The next morning, or rather, at an hour so late it could hardly be called morning, I woke up in an unusually comfortable bed.

The last thing I remembered was the bed in the inn, which was so hard it barely deserved to be called a bed. Why does it smell so good?

As I took in the now-familiar scent, I opened my eyes and realized I was tightly clutching someone.

“Oh no.”

I was horrified to see that Hernan was lying beside me, looking uncomfortable and trapped. Had I lost my mind?

No matter how drunk I was, this was insane.

In a panic, I pushed Hernan away, causing him to roll off the now stained sheets.

Did I really sleep on those sheets?

And without even washing?

The string of shocking realizations jolted me upright, and to my surprise, I found a pile of soft garments under me.

What’s this?

As I picked one up and examined it, I realized it was a rather expensive-looking formal robe.

“…?”

I stared at it for a long time before realizing it was Hernan’s robe, and I scrambled out of bed as if fleeing.

Why was this under me?

Did I strip him of his clothes before bed?

Amidst the confusion, the most likely scenario was that Hernan, remembering my horror at the state of the bed, had laid his clothes on the bed and then placed me on top of them.

“But why…?”

If he didn’t have any other intentions, why would he do that?

I had drunk quite a bit last night, but oddly enough, I felt surprisingly good this morning.

As I stood there awkwardly, something familiar popped up on my shoulder.

[He was just trying to make you comfortable. What, are you going to make a fuss over a good deed?]

It was the ghostly figure of Ryuudene, the one who had quietly downed an entire cask of alcohol while everyone else was busy drinking and toasting the night before.

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

When I muttered in protest, Ryuudene clicked his tongue in disapproval.

[You didn’t say it out loud, but I know what you’re thinking. Well, do as you please. It’s your business, not mine.]

He spoke as if this had nothing to do with him, even though it involved his distant descendant.

I had a lot I wanted to say, but I didn’t want to get into an argument, so I held my tongue.

I should probably have some breakfast.

According to the original plan, I was supposed to wake up this morning, visit the hot springs around lunchtime for some reconnaissance, and then head back to the manor by evening.

“But…”

Knowing full well that the local lord was ruling with an iron fist, how could I just leave after achieving my goal?

Once you know, what’s the point of liking power?

It seemed like the only way to feel truly satisfied was to gather undeniable evidence that the lord couldn’t wriggle out of, and then drive him out so he could never commit such trashy acts again.

Well… if I really wanted to punish him with true power, Hernan’s authority would be more than enough.

‘But isn’t that just covering up abuse with more abuse?’

That’s not refreshing.

The only way to really clear my anger would be to have the subordinates personally decapitate the higher-ups and display their heads (metaphorically speaking).

Even though I’ve never lived without, as a descendant of merchants who are never beaten in terms of rank, I felt I needed a more satisfying revenge.

Now that I’d heard the story from outside the lord’s manor, it was time to listen to the testimonies from those inside.

Normally, people like that are leaks within their own ranks, so there would be more than a few who are ready to spill everything at the first opportunity.

I glanced at Hernan, who was peacefully asleep, considering all the added options and hardships in my mind.

Naturally, the plan was to bundle him in with the rest of them.

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