PLQYM | Chapter 25

“Hah?”

Heraith let out a disbelieving chuckle.

Lucian’s flustered and irritated expression, complete with narrowed eyes and a scowl, was so ridiculous it left the emperor momentarily speechless.

“You’ve got quite the attitude.”

“Me? Where?”

“So now you’re talking back to me at every turn?”

“I’ve never done that. I swallow half the things I want to say, you know.”

Heraith stood up from his seat and walked over to Lucian. He tapped Lucian’s forehead lightly with his finger.

“Maybe you should’ve just swallowed this one, too.”

“Ugh.”

“If anyone saw this, they’d think I was about to devour you.”

Devour me? You’re already working me to the bone.

Lucian swallowed his retort and clamped his mouth shut, causing Heraith to let out another small laugh.

Clearly, the recent events had pushed Lucian to his limit. His usually calm and composed demeanor had taken a sharp turn toward petulance.

The way he pouted his lips and wore that disgruntled expression—it was almost amusing.

***

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”

Heraith’s mind briefly wandered to the memory of Lucian calling him, face flushed with frustration.

Should I ask him to call my name next time?

The thought made the emperor grin faintly.

Bringing himself back to the present, Heraith cupped Lucian’s chin, tilting it upward.

“You really don’t look good.”

Lucian’s usually pale complexion was now ghostly, his face devoid of its usual vitality. Yet, his lips stood out, strikingly red. Heraith’s eyes lingered on them.

Lucian wanted to push Heraith’s hand away, but he couldn’t. The emperor’s grip was firm, leaving Lucian trembling slightly as he tried to resist.

Ignoring Lucian’s discomfort, Heraith scrutinized his face carefully. That’s when he noticed the marks on his lips.

“What’s wrong with your lips?”

“My lips?”

“Who touched you?”

“What? What are you talking about, Your Majesty?”

The icy blue of Heraith’s eyes sparked with intensity.

“Why are your lips so red?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was born with it?”

“Do you think I don’t know the color of your lips? And what’s this mark?”

“W-What?!”

Lucian stared at Heraith, dumbfounded. His wide eyes blinked rapidly, as if he couldn’t process the accusation.

For a moment, he was too stunned to respond. Then, as the meaning of Heraith’s words sunk in, his face turned a deep shade of red.

“That’s not it! I bit them out of frustration, that’s all!”

The way his red tongue flashed between his words was almost hypnotic.

Who could resist such temptation?

Heraith, as if bewitched, leaned in and claimed Lucian’s lips in a fervent kiss.

***

Lucian, caught off guard, froze. He tried to pull away, but Heraith’s hand snaked around his waist, holding him firmly in place. The emperor’s grip was almost crushing.

Each time Lucian attempted to protest, Heraith’s tongue pushed into his mouth, leaving him with no chance to speak. It was as if his lips were no longer his own.

Heraith’s kisses were purposeful, targeting every sensitive spot with precision, leaving Lucian overwhelmed and unable to think of anything else.

Lucian twisted his body in a desperate attempt to escape, but Heraith’s arm around his waist held him like an iron chain.

This isn’t right. This isn’t what I want.

Yet a strange, burning sensation coursed through him, an unfamiliar heat that demanded something more, something… larger.

“Lucian.”

A rough voice, almost like a phantom, sent shivers down Lucian’s spine.

“Ugh!”

With a gasp, Lucian finally managed to shove Heraith away.

Their eyes met—Heraith’s hazel ones, darkened with desire, locked onto Lucian’s ice-blue irises, which were now clouded with confusion and anger.

Lucian panted heavily, trying to steady himself.

Heraith, meanwhile, traced his thumb over his own lips, now smeared with blood.

Well, look at that.

Staring at the blood on his fingers, Heraith’s lips curved into a slow, graceful smile.

Lucian’s pale face flushed red at the sight of that smile. It was as if Heraith were silently announcing he’d kiss him again any second.

“Stop kissing me, Your Majesty!” Lucian yelled, scrubbing his lips with the back of his hand.

“Once or twice is bad enough! It might be a game to you, but I’m tired of being dragged into it!”

Heraith’s brow furrowed slightly at Lucian’s outburst.

“Who said it was a game?”

“Isn’t it? You can’t possibly be serious about this, Your Majesty!”

Lucian was furious. He could handle excessive workloads and even ridiculous demands, but this—this was too much.

“This kind of joke… I’m sick of it.”

***

It was then that the metallic taste of blood filled Lucian’s mouth.

“Lucian?”

Without realizing it, Lucian doubled over, clutching his stomach. The blood surged up his throat, and no matter how much he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t stop it.

“Ugh…”

Blood spilled from his lips, staining his hands as it dripped to the floor.

“Lucian!”

Heraith was at his side in an instant, lifting him into his arms.

Lucian weakly grasped at Heraith’s collar, forcing himself to speak.

“Don’t talk, Lucian. I’ll call for the palace doctor—”

“I… told you,” Lucian rasped, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

“I said… I’d cough up blood and collapse right here…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Lucian tried to laugh at the sight of his blood staining Heraith’s pristine robes, but his body betrayed him.

I should’ve said, “Serves you right,” one more time.

That was his last thought before he passed out completely.

***

Later

“He’s suffering from stomach ulcers caused by stress and overwork. He must’ve been in considerable pain for a while now,” the palace doctor explained.

Heraith, his face cold and unreadable, stood silently by Lucian’s bedside.

“It’s not life-threatening, is it?” Heraith asked, his tone dead serious.

The doctor hesitated for a moment but nodded. “No, but if this continues unchecked, it could lead to severe complications.”

The emperor said nothing, his gaze fixed on Lucian’s unconscious, pale face.

“Your Majesty,” the doctor began cautiously, “it might be best to let Sir Lucian recover in his own quarters. It’s close by, and I can attend to him there just as easily.”

“This room is larger and more comfortable.”

The doctor faltered under Heraith’s sharp glare and decided against arguing further.

“If he wakes, call for me immediately,” Heraith said, dismissing the doctor with a curt nod.

***

Lucian eventually stirred, his groan breaking the silence.

“Your Majesty?”

“You’re awake. Don’t move. Just lie down.”

Lucian attempted to sit up but quickly gave in to Heraith’s command, lacking the energy to argue.

“The doctor said it’s an ulcer. From stress and overwork.”

Lucian nodded faintly. Well, that makes sense.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Heraith’s voice was unusually soft.

“I…” Lucian began but stopped as a sharp pain flared in his stomach.

“Don’t push yourself. Just rest.”

Lucian scowled, though it lacked his usual intensity. “This is your fault, you know.”

“Oh? Is it now?”

How can you even ask that? Lucian glared at him, but Heraith’s expression remained frustratingly calm.

“Do as you see fit with those old men,” Heraith said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Pardon?”

“Do whatever you want. Kill them, even.”

“What?!”

“If you do, let me know. I’ll say it was a heart attack. They’re old enough to make it believable.”

Lucian burst out laughing, despite himself.

“Stop giving me trouble and then acting like the solution, Your Majesty.”

“I’m serious. I’ve wanted to kill them myself more than once.”

Lucian laughed harder, his tension momentarily forgotten.

As his laughter subsided, Heraith leaned closer and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips.

“Your Majesty… why do you keep kissing me?” Lucian asked quietly.