C | Extra 2.2 | Crack in the Noon

The atmosphere of the banquet hall, where dishes Ian couldn’t even name kept coming without pause, was far from pleasant—even out of politeness.

Eduard couldn’t stop making remarks that flirted dangerously close to harassment with every breath, and each time Ian would coldly cut him off.

“…I really can’t eat any more,” Ian said, pushing away the rose-lime sorbet, the fifth dessert course.

He couldn’t even remember how many dishes he had eaten. Four hours, at least. Even just pretending to eat was pushing the limits of his endurance. His stomach was too full, and to make matters worse, the luxurious outfit Eduard had sent over was a pale ivory color and form-fitting, making eating an even bigger challenge. Even at the age of twenty, his stomach was struggling to keep up.

“Why say something so hurtful, Ian? The chef at Ranihardt’s kitchen usually prepares at least twelve dessert courses. If word gets back to Wilhelm that you didn’t even eat half and got tired of the food, he’ll be heartbroken and spend the whole night in despair. For poor Wilhelm’s sake, why don’t you make a little more effort? At least pretend to take a bite.”

Ian hadn’t forgotten that he had spent the past four hours eating nameless dishes precisely because of such reasoning.

Unless there was some law in a feudal society that royalty was born with a superior digestive system, the claim of twelve dessert courses was probably a lie. The proof? Eduard had been sending each dessert back with some excuse as soon as it was served. The one who should be pitying Wilhelm was Eduard himself.

“Please tell him that everything was delicious. Each dish was truly impressive.”

“…Alright, then.”

Eduard pursed his lips.

“If you’ve enjoyed the food, it’s only right to appreciate some art next. Do you like Rossini? Or Verdi?”

Ian didn’t know either of them.

“I don’t know much about art. It’s bound to be too much for me, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Don’t worry about that. Knowing nothing about art won’t be held against you. Your very existence is proof of art itself. We should thank the gods who gave you that face. Maybe I should call a cardinal. No, let’s go big and have the Pope himself bless you. Moritz, call the Vatican, would you?”

Ian had learned over the past four hours that Eduard’s casual jokes could become reality at any moment.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m an atheist.”

“I couldn’t care less if others are atheists or pray to a plate of spaghetti. But you, Ian, are different. Denying God with that face is outright blasphemy.”

Again, there was no need to take Eduard seriously.

By now, Ian had adjusted somewhat to Hebaulis’ feudal system. The Grand Duke’s employees were all polite, but whenever Eduard’s nonsense crossed the line into outright lunacy, they would simply pretend not to hear it. Considering that, Eduard seemed less like an absolute monarch and more like an eccentric CEO who paid a generous salary.

Ian glanced around, searching for a clock. A highly intricate antique mantel clock decorated the fireplace, but it was impossible to read the time. Ian pulled a pocket watch from his jacket. Thankfully, it was a real watch that displayed the time correctly, not some flashy exhibit.

It was past 8 p.m. Revenant might not show up after all.

“It’s late. I’ll be going now, Your Highness.”

“What are you talking about? Leo hasn’t even arrived yet! Do you have any idea how much he’s been looking forward to this dinner? If you cruelly end the banquet before he even gets here after he’s worked so hard to join us, he’ll be terribly disappointed.”

“I don’t think he’d mind.”

“He will, trust me. I know Leo. Even if he doesn’t say it, he loves occasions like this.”

That was obviously a lie.

Revenant, thrilled at being invited to a royal banquet? Not even a speck of that image fit.

“Even if that’s true, I’ll explain it to him. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Do you really have to go? If opera’s not your thing, how about some art? Have you ever seen the Mona Lisa outside the Louvre?”

“No, thank you.”

“The one in the Louvre is Da Vinci’s second version. Technically, it may be more refined, but it lacks the soul of the first.”

Even if that were true, Ian didn’t care.

“I’ll be going. I’ll return the clothes through Georg.”

“What?”

Eduard’s hand holding the wine glass jerked as if he’d heard something unthinkable, spilling the wine onto Ian’s clothes.

“…What are you doing?”

Ian managed to dodge, but a red stain still formed on his outfit.

“Returning a gift? That’s an insult I refuse to accept.”

“Aren’t these clothes expensive?”

“Do I look like someone who cares about that? I reject such petty insults too.”

Eduard grabbed the wine bottle this time. If he poured it, the clothes wouldn’t just get stained—they’d be drenched.

Ian pushed his chair back and stood.

“It would be just as insulting to stand here and let someone pour wine on me. I reject that too, Your Highness.”

Ian’s movements clearly showed his displeasure.

“Wait, Ian!” Eduard hurriedly ran to block his way.

“Forgive me. Being born into royalty has made me overly sensitive to insults… I crossed the line. Please, forgive me.”

For someone who claimed to be sensitive to insults, he apologized rather easily. Truly an unpredictable person.

“I’ll forgive you. Just let me leave.”

“Fine, but forgiveness first.”

Eduard tilted his cheek toward Ian.

“There’s no forgiveness without a kiss.”

“…”

To avoid getting caught up in Eduard’s games, Ian needed a reason that couldn’t be trivialized. He erased his irritation and replaced it with a neutral expression. Feigning pity wasn’t something he could pull off convincingly, so a blank face was safer.

“You know my past, don’t you? Why Leo became a murderer?”

“Ah…”

Ian averted his gaze and lowered his voice.

“This kind of behavior makes things very difficult for me, Your Highness.”

“…”

Eduard fell silent. Ian had won.

If Ian could speak about it like this, it seemed his past wounds had dulled somewhat. Memories of his time hiding in a CIA safehouse, trembling in unknown fear, surfaced. The one who had endured that time with him was Revenant. Without him, Ian would still be trapped in that same moment, suffocating in terror.

So, I’ll forgive you for not showing up today.

You’re probably busy because of me anyway.

A longing, as sharp as thirst, surged within him. He wanted to see Revenant. The man he had only parted with this morning.

“I’ll be going now.”

If Eduard had even a shred of common decency, he wouldn’t have stopped Ian from leaving. But Eduard was a man who defied common sense.

“If you leave now, you’ll miss your chance.”

“I don’t think I’ll regret it.”

“Hmm, I thought you’d say that. But I guarantee you’ll regret it.”

Eduard tilted his head arrogantly, his narrowed eyes full of implication.

That was usually the expression Eduard made when he was lying. Ian, however, didn’t know him well enough to recognize it yet.

“As I said, Leo is my close friend. I call him an irreplaceable companion. A soulmate, even. What does that mean?”

Eduard paused for dramatic effect, knowing it made his lies more convincing.

“It means we share everything, even our frustrations.”

“…No way.”

Ian’s lips parted slightly.

The idea of Revenant confiding the details of his private life to someone else was completely out of character. He didn’t seem like the type to have that kind of human vulnerability.

“Why not? You don’t know how Leo lived for five years.”

“…”

Ian’s lips pressed together, and his expression hardened.

After abandoning his name and heading to Hebaulis, Ian had no idea what kind of life Revenant had led during those five years. He had avoided thinking about it, perhaps out of fear of what he might learn.

I survived by forgetting that time. But you, who remembered it all—what was it like for you?

“But I know all about that time. Every detail, down to the moles on his body.”

“…”

Ian clamped his mouth shut and stared at Eduard.

He hadn’t won. He had lost. The one thing that couldn’t be a joke to Ian was Revenant.

“Are you saying the two of you were lovers?”

“What?”

Eduard jumped back as if Ian had suggested something utterly absurd.

“I reject such a horrible misunderstanding. Regardless of my appreciation for beauty, my preferences are quite clear. Leo is my friend, never an object of my interest. I swear it on your beautiful eyes.”

Ian wished people would stop swearing on his eyes.

He rubbed them roughly and pressed on.

“Then how do you know about the moles?”

“You don’t need to sleep with someone to notice things like that. You just have to look.”

Why would he have been looking at another man’s body?

“How exactly did you see it?”

“Curious?”

A flurry of thoughts crossed Ian’s mind, but his answer was firm.

“No, I’m not. Even if you were lovers.”

“I told you, that’s not it! Still, I’ll bet you’re curious. I’ll guarantee it.”

“I’m not curious. Not at all.”

“Leo’s preferences in bed?”

“……?”

Eduard must have noticed the change in Ian’s expression. His confident smirk deepened as if he already knew he had won this exchange.

“If that’s the topic, I could talk for three days straight without getting tired. Come on, aren’t you curious? You are, right?”

Ian bit his lip. Eduard claimed to know Revenant’s preferences intimately, even mentioning his frustrations. The words mirrored something Ian had heard that very morning before their intimacy had even begun:

“You didn’t let me touch you for ten days.”
“It’s never enough. Eating doesn’t fill me up, either.”

Revenant’s voice replayed in his head, and Eduard’s overlapped with it.

“Leo, of all people, must constantly complain about how it’s never enough, especially in bed.”

“…….”

“My lips, for your sake, could confess any truth right now.”

Eduard’s offer felt like a sweet poison, drying Ian’s mouth.

“Shall we get started, then?”

Ian couldn’t refuse the glass offered to him, even though he knew it would lead to trouble.

“Sigh, what a tragedy. Truly heartbreaking, Ian. You have my deepest sympathy and condolences. Here, drink.”

Eduard poured wine into Ian’s glass. It was a specialty wine produced on a Greek island, with only 100 bottles made annually. After discovering it on a whim during his travels, Eduard had liked it so much that he bought the entire island and cut production down to just 20 bottles per year. Since then, only Eduard had access to it.

“This is the 99th bottle for the year. If it’s for you, I wouldn’t hesitate to open the last one. No need to worry about running out—drink as much as you like.”

Eduard’s grin was impossible to hide.

Now, lounging half-reclined on the chaise of Count Joseph’s guest room, Ian held a crimson wine glass that contrasted sharply with his pale fingers. His half-closed eyes, lined with a striking white and black contrast, shimmered drowsily, and his wine-stained lips exuded a fragrance that could justify the cost of buying an entire island.

The tie had long fallen to the floor, pin still attached. Four buttons of his dress shirt had been undone, revealing his ivory-sculpted collarbone and neck.

From the proportions of his head to the angles of his shoulders, the shape of his knees, and the arch of his feet—everything about Ian was ideal. If Da Vinci had ever painted a drunken Apollo, it would surely look like this.

Eduard couldn’t deny it. Count Joseph’s taste, despite being obsessive and voyeuristic, was flawless. Eduard, having a compulsive curiosity, knew most of Revenant’s past lovers and immediately understood why the man hadn’t taken another partner.

How could anyone forget that face? Even fifty years wouldn’t be enough to erase it.

Eduard licked his lips.

He had once casually remarked on Ian’s beauty and ended up with his head slammed into a marble desk. Yet, Eduard was certain that deep down, even Count Joseph agreed with his assessment.

Hypocrite. Now you’re hoarding that body for yourself.

Eduard tapped the spot on his forehead where he had been bruised two years and seven months ago during that desk incident.

You wouldn’t let me have even a glimpse. Not that it stopped me from seeing.

“…I don’t really… know.”

Ian’s slurred voice brought Eduard back to the present.

Quickly, Eduard refilled Ian’s glass. Ian hadn’t agreed to drink initially, claiming he didn’t know his limits and rarely touched alcohol. But Eduard, who seldom lost a negotiation, had his own method:

One glass, one secret.

When he poured only a third of the glass and called it “one drink,” Ian had felt reassured and took a sip. Unfortunately for Ian, Eduard’s Greek specialty wine was deceptively sweet and fragrant, masking its high alcohol content. Ian, who drank it without hesitation, became tipsy after half a bottle—before Eduard even had the chance to share a real secret.

In truth, Eduard didn’t have much to reveal. Revenant’s preferences in bed were inconsistent, that was all. He didn’t seem to discriminate based on race, age, or gender but avoided younger partners—likely as a defense mechanism toward Ian. Sometimes rough to the point of pitying his partner, other times as restrained as a monk, his unpredictability was the only constant.

The part about it “never being enough” was just a guess. Eduard had assumed as much, considering Revenant’s years of frustration and waiting. Judging by Ian’s reaction, the guess had hit the mark.

Of course. That man’s probably a beast by now.

Eduard, however, wanted to see for himself. His disdain for Count Joseph’s personality could wait. The two of them were aesthetically a perfect pair, and watching them together would surely be satisfying.