* * *
Just then, Eren smiled in his sleep. In a faint, dreamy voice, he murmured:
“…Smells nice…”
“…You really are gifted at enchanting people, aren’t you?”
The sun had fully set, and the room was wrapped in twilight.
Eren, bundled up tightly in the blanket, began to fidget, perhaps feeling stifled.
With practiced ease, Ashard pulled the covers loose and gently tucked them back over him.
It was already the second time someone had fallen asleep in his bed.
The first had been in the tent, and now this.
The only sound in the quiet room was Eren’s soft breathing.
Ashard tried to move his hand, but the warm, pillowy cheek clinging to it made it hard to pull away.
“…What’ll I do when you wake up?”
Ashard lay down beside Eren.
As he looked at the long lashes resting gently on his cheeks, something in his chest thudded hard.
And if it had ended there, maybe that would’ve been the end of it.
But when he loosened the blanket, Eren curled up from the chill—right into Ashard’s arms.
And with that—
Thump, thump, thump, thump—!
Ashard offered Eren his hand.
With the other, he instinctively brushed Eren’s forehead, gently sweeping aside the soft strands of hair that had covered his smooth, fair skin.
What happened next was purely impulsive.
Ashard pressed a light kiss to Eren’s forehead, then tenderly brushed the spot where his lips had touched.
“Your Grace…?”
Ashard froze in place at the unexpected sound of Eren’s voice—he had thought the boy was fast asleep.
Shifting only his eyes, he looked down to see Eren still half-asleep, his sapphire-blue eyes only half-open, unfocused.
As if seeking warmth, Eren snuggled deeper into Ashard’s arms.
Just as Ashard leaned in to check if he’d dozed off again, Eren stirred.
Smack—
The sensation mirrored what Ashard himself had done moments before.
Soft, pink lips brushed against his own, then slowly pulled away.
Eyes widening in surprise, Ashard stared at Eren.
But the boy’s eyes were now shut again—perhaps asleep after all.
Ashard’s heart began to pound faster in his chest.
He ran a hand down his face, now suddenly flushed.
“You brought this on yourself,” he muttered.
Knowing full well that Eren couldn’t hear him,
Ashard still let the words slip.
He gently cupped Eren’s cheek in his hand and lowered his face once more.
Their lips met again.
This kiss was light and fleeting—nothing like the passionate one from before.
As their lips parted, he traced the spot with his finger.
Though the touch was light, a subtle, lingering warmth remained.
“You may have done it in your sleep, but I didn’t.”
He wrapped Eren in a tight embrace again.
That sweet scent enveloped him, dizzying and dangerously intoxicating.
And yet, Ashard didn’t let go. If anything, he pulled Eren closer.
Moonlight spilled through the window, softly illuminating the bedroom.
The two, locked in each other’s arms, were bathed in its gentle glow.
“Mother.”
A girl with neatly braided red hair called out.
As the woman turned her head, her hair—matching in hue—shifted slightly.
Her soft gaze curled into a warm smile upon seeing her daughter again.
“You’re here, Melody.”
“I heard you called for me.”
Empress Luan of the Trovien Empire gave a slight nod.
At her gesture, a maid placed a dish of strawberry sherbet in front of Melody—a dessert that would usually delight any young lady.
But she didn’t even touch it.
Seeing the untouched sherbet, the Empress pushed it closer.
Reluctantly, not wanting to disregard her mother’s gesture, Melody lifted the bowl and took a bite.
The sweetness filled her mouth, and her brow subtly furrowed.
“So, how are your heir lessons going?”
“They’re not difficult.”
“You insisted on joining Fridit despite the imperial training. I suppose it suits you.”
“My brother’s there, after all.”
“If your brother actually studied, I wouldn’t be saying this. He has no interest in succession at all.”
Though the Empress sounded regretful about Melody choosing the Fridit Ducal House, the girl’s expression didn’t change one bit—no hesitation, no lingering attachments.
“I heard you summoned Count Eren Nefendis to the palace.”
“News travels fast, doesn’t it? Already reached your ears?”
“Was it because of His Majesty?”
It was a direct question—possibly too blunt—but the Empress remained unfazed, shrugging as if the matter didn’t bother her in the slightest.
“Then why…”
“By the way, I heard you asked to have him as your tutor.”
Melody’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that.
Her gaze wavered briefly, then returned to calm.
“I was curious, that’s all. He’s rumored to be a prodigy from Epentel, and an exceptional strategist.”
Now that she was allowed to speak, Melody’s words flowed freely.
Normally quiet, she now seemed almost cheerful.
She animatedly recounted Eren’s previous strategies, her excitement shining through.
The Empress couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
After five minutes of Eren-related praise, Melody cleared her throat awkwardly, perhaps realizing she’d said too much.
She glanced at her mother, gauging her reaction.
“Do you disapprove of me taking Count Eren Nefendis as a tutor?”
“Not at all. You’ve always said you wanted to meet him at least once.”
Her tone made it clear that there was no issue with it.
Which only deepened Melody’s curiosity.
If it wasn’t because of the Emperor, or because of her, then why had the Empress summoned Eren?
“How’s your uncle?”
“…Excuse me?”
“Ashard, I mean. It’s been a while since he returned to the capital, and I haven’t heard a word.”
A knowing smile played on the Empress’s lips.
A man who rarely took interest in anyone, suddenly showing care toward both Ashard and Melody—Eren had clearly piqued her interest.
“Do you really expect me to go to the palace like this?”
“…”
It hadn’t mattered back at the mansion, but there was no way he could walk into the Imperial Palace dressed like this.
When he’d met the Emperor, a robe had covered him head to toe, but not this time.
Unable to visit a tailor or summon one, Eren had hurriedly thrown on Ashard’s clothes—but they clearly didn’t fit.
The sleeves and hems trailed far beyond his hands and feet; it looked more like a costume than an outfit.
“Bring the clothes from the room at the end of the second floor.”
Ashard gave another order, apparently agreeing that this wouldn’t do.
A maid returned with a neatly folded outfit.
Unlike Ashard’s oversized clothing, this one looked like it would fit Eren perfectly.
Eren quickly took the clothes and changed.
Facing the mirror, he saw not a single part that looked ill-fitted—it was as if the outfit had been made just for him.
‘Whose clothes are these…?’
They clearly weren’t Ashard’s.
And they were far too masculine to be Melody’s.
Eren had stayed at the mansion for weeks, and other than Melody, no one else had come and gone often enough to explain the presence of these clothes.
“…Can I ask whose these are?”
“You really are full of curiosity.”
Ashard’s eyes shifted away, and Eren could tell he was dodging the question.
‘Well, it’s not like I’m that curious.’
“Shall we go, then?”
This time, when the familiar hand was offered, Eren didn’t resist.
He took it.
He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake again.
Ashard let out a small chuckle as he looked at Eren, who silently took his hand.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
* * *
