PLQYM | Chapter 47

“Spill it, yes? Luce, who’s the bastard that put a scar on your face like this?”

Heraith’s smile was dazzling, but his voice carried an eerie chill. The sharp tension that surged over him felt like it might devour him whole. Yet, Lucian stood firm, unfazed.

“There’s no such person. It was my mistake.”

“A mistake?”

Heraith let out a low chuckle.

“Who the hell scars their own face by mistake? And even ends up drenched like this?”

“Yes, sometimes things like that happen.”

Lucian remained nonchalant, not batting an eye, as Heraith scoffed.

“Hah. Even so, were you ever the type to carry around something like that, even by mistake? You’re the kind of guy who checks his appearance countless times before leaving, just to avoid giving anyone something to nitpick.”

“Yes, that’s the kind of guy I am. Thank you for your concern, but it’s nothing.”

The more Lucian denied it, the tighter Heraith’s lips pressed together.

“This carriage came from the Franz Clan Marquisate… so it’s Franz Clan. I bet that guy, lying sick at home, is throwing tantrums and taking it out on you.”

“I wouldn’t know. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

At Lucian’s response, Heraith clicked his tongue, then shifted his body towards Lucian within the moving carriage.

As Heraith’s stunning visage drew unexpectedly close, Lucian unconsciously held his breath. Whether or not he was immune to the emperor’s face didn’t matter—Heraith’s beauty had a way of rendering him momentarily speechless.

“Luce,” Heraith’s low, deep voice was honeyed, enough to enchant anyone who didn’t sense the suppressed anger behind it. If not for that undercurrent, Lucian might have been bewitched into compliance.

“Don’t try to protect just anyone in front of me.”

“…”

“It makes me jealous.”

Jealous? What nonsense.

“Just follow me. Stay by my side and don’t even glance at anyone else.”

Lucian forcibly clamped his lips shut. He always found it difficult to deal with Heraith whenever he spouted such ridiculous things. Usually, he could just let it slide in one ear and out the other, but today felt especially exhausting.

He had dealt with Princess Eloine, managed Franz Clan, and now even the emperor. At this point, he lacked the energy to handle Heraith, especially now.

“Please stop. I don’t have the strength to play along with your jokes. I’ve had too much on my plate today.”

“Want me to crush everyone who made you tired? Make them regret ever being born?”

Had Heraith noticed Lucian’s incredulous laughter? Heraith tilted his head slightly.

“Do you think I’m joking? I could turn this carriage around right now and crush the Franz Clan. Or, there’s no need to bother; I could simply send the knights from the palace to raze the place to the ground.”

“Please don’t say such things. When Your Majesty speaks, it doesn’t sound like a joke.”

“Why not?”

Heraith extended a hand and lightly touched Lucian’s face. The exact moment his hand grazed the scar, a sharp sting shot up.

“Why should I let someone off after they dared to put a mark on something that belongs to me?”

Belongs to him? Surely he wasn’t talking about me, was he?

Lucian was so taken aback that he couldn’t even respond and simply kept his lips sealed. Heraith smirked and leaned back.

“It’s just a way of saying things, you know.”

“I believe I told Your Majesty that your jokes don’t sound like jokes.”

“What can I do? That’s the life of a ruler.”

When Lucian stared at him without responding, Heraith let out a faint laugh. Finally, Lucian sighed deeply.

‘I really forgot for a moment that this man enjoys seeing me in distress.’

‘It seems like he’s roughly caught on to the situation.’

Even so, admitting it outright wasn’t an option.

As for Franz, honestly, Lucian couldn’t care less about what happened to him. But he didn’t want his words to cause unnecessary trouble. Not that Franz would ever know Lucian was shielding him.

Just as Lucian was lost in thought, Heraith’s gaze sharpened.

“Lucian.”

“Yes?”

“I told you to think only of me. Stop thinking about anyone else.”

At that, Lucian frowned slightly.

Why was he acting like this today?

“Your Majesty, why on earth—”

Lucian’s attempt to protest was interrupted at nearly the same moment Heraith grabbed his chin and tilted it upward.

“…!”

Before he could register what was happening, Heraith’s lips were on his.

A soft tongue brushed against his slightly parted lips.

He wanted to protest that this wasn’t okay, but it was already too late. In trying to breathe or speak, his lips only made things worse.

Heraith took his time, biting Lucian’s lower and upper lips alternately.

They were soft. Contrary to the firm lines his closed lips usually formed, the unexpected tenderness of his lips sent Heraith’s heart racing.

Before he realized it, Lucian had grabbed Heraith’s collar.

Unconsciously, he clung to the emperor’s coat, unaware of the audacity of touching the ruler so directly.

Somewhere, he thought he heard a faint laugh.

As his lips, now damp, brushed against Heraith’s again, Lucian found the sensation strangely pleasant—right as a tongue slid into his mouth.

The soft flesh met and intertwined, sending a tingling sensation all the way down to his waist.

Before long, Lucian was responding in kind, his own tongue tangling with Heraith’s as if they had kissed countless times before.

As if this was something natural between them.

By the time Lucian stifled a moan rising from deep within his throat, Heraith pulled away.

Lucian’s gaze fell on Heraith’s lips, now more crimson than usual.

Were his lips that color too?

As he stared, Heraith licked his lips with a red tongue, stepping back. That small motion, inexplicably indecent, caused Lucian’s face to heat up.

Heraith smiled lightly, leaning back into his seat opposite Lucian.

“…Ha. What are you doing?”

“Who knows?”

Lucian’s voice came out steadier than he’d expected—or so it seemed to his own ears.

“Luce.”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

“What?”

At the sudden remark, Lucian looked at him incredulously.

How could the person who initiated such nonsense be the one saying this?

“If Your Majesty refrains from doing… things like this, I believe I’ll have an easier time.”

“Hah, rejecting my affection like that?”

“Please, spare me such affection.”

“What?”

Heraith burst out laughing, the sound lasting longer than usual.

Lucian frowned slightly at the prolonged laughter.

“A subject rejecting the emperor’s favor? Interesting.”

“Your Majesty’s favor always comes with work attached. You call me lovely, adorable, or remarkable, only to assign impossible tasks afterward.”

“Did I?”

When Heraith feigned ignorance, Lucian clicked his tongue.

Of course. The frog is the only one hurt when a stone is thrown in jest.

“Anyway, don’t let it happen again. Just tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Franz Clan? Or the trouble Your Majesty stirred up? Or the negotiations with the princess? I don’t think any of these are matters I’d trouble Your Majesty with.”

Heraith nonchalantly shrugged, responding easily.

“Aren’t all your duties carried out under my name anyway?”

“If you understand that, then please stop causing so much trouble, Your Majesty. Did you forget that I specifically asked you not to stir up chaos before I left on vacation? Thanks to you, I couldn’t even fully enjoy my time off because—”

“It’s because of you.”

“What?”

The sudden shift in Heraith’s tone made Lucian’s habitual nagging halt abruptly. Upon closer inspection, Heraith’s expression had darkened, heavier than usual.

“Your Majesty?”

Lucian frowned slightly, but Heraith’s somber gaze didn’t waver. The next words weren’t even directed at Lucian but seemed to reflect on some distant memory.

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.”

“Your Majesty…?”

A bitter smile tugged at Heraith’s lips. He said no more, turning to look out the window.

The setting sun cast a reddish glow, carving shadows across his face.

For some reason, the sight of him felt achingly distant, and Lucian found himself staring at him for a long time.

“Is this true?”

Lucian’s rarely seen dumbfounded expression emerged.

The Emperor’s study.

Lucian was working late, alone, when Cliff, the head attendant, came to deliver a message. It was an imperial order.

Not a simple word but a decree.

What surprised Lucian even more were the details of that decree.

“An engagement ceremony? You’re sure that’s what he ordered?”

“Yes. He instructed that the banquet three days from now be changed to an engagement announcement banquet.”

“That’s impossible…”

Lucian shook his head, baffled.

There had been no indication of this that morning. Why now, all of a sudden?

And why issue this order indirectly through the head attendant instead of telling him directly?

‘Why…?’

Then, as if struck by a realization, Lucian raised his head again.

“Are you absolutely sure this is His Majesty’s will?”

“Yes, without a doubt. His Majesty specifically instructed that you oversee all the preparations personally. Additionally…”

The aide continued in a calm voice.

“He said you wouldn’t need to attend to him until the banquet is over.”

“…!”

The quill in Lucian’s hand slipped and fell onto the desk, rolling away as a drop of black ink traced a line.

It was as if the ink marked the ripple of unease spreading in his chest.