PLQYM | Chapter 26

Heraith fixed his cool gaze on Lucian.

Sometimes, the emperor would stare at Lucian with an expression so unreadable it bordered on unnerving.

Like now.

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His sculpted face betrayed no emotion, and his eyes were as hollow and deep as the surface of a mirror.

But then.

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— Lucian.

There were times when a voice—his voice—echoed in Lucian’s mind. A voice he had never actually heard before.

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Low, rough, and restrained, like a scrape against his senses.

Every time it surfaced, heat would rush up his spine, spreading through him like wildfire.

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The strange thing was, Heraith never called him Lucian. Not once. He always used that ridiculous nickname he made up, Luce.

And yet, that voice—so vivid and real—would replay itself in Lucian’s head, as though it had actually been spoken aloud.

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In the suffocating moment where Heraith’s gaze seemed to wrap around him like a vice, his expression suddenly changed.

His lips curved into a faint smile, a sharp contrast to the weighty tension just moments before.

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“Why did I kiss you, you ask?”

Heraith slowly repeated Lucian’s question, savoring each word like they were a delicacy.

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His eyes—roaming leisurely from Lucian’s lips to his neck and then back again—finally met Lucian’s own.

“Do you really want to know?”

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Heraith stepped closer, a radiant smile lighting up his face.

At that moment, Lucian clenched his fists instinctively, as though his body was trying to resist its own betrayal. If he didn’t hold himself together, he might end up staring at Heraith like a man possessed.

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Heraith chuckled softly, his voice low and rich.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

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For a second, Lucian thought he’d misheard. The serene smile gracing Heraith’s face didn’t match the flippant reply he’d just given.

“…What?”

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“Hmm. If I had to guess, I’d say… because you’re cute? Or, no… maybe—”

Heraith cut himself off, furrowing his brows slightly as though lost in thought. His lips curved in a way that somehow seemed even more dangerous to Lucian.

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An uneasy feeling crept into Lucian’s chest. Pressing him further felt like an open invitation to regret. He wisely chose to let it go.

How much time had passed?

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“Your Majesty, it’s time,” called an attendant from outside the door, breaking the charged silence between them.

Heraith let out a sound—half sigh, half laugh—and rose from his seat.

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“Take a break for now. Don’t overthink things.”

“…”

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“And don’t try too hard with this. You can mess it up for all I care.”

“There’s no such thing as a task you can just ‘mess up.’ I’d rather not be seen as incompetent because of lack of experience, thank you very much.”

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“Always so stubborn.”

With a soft chuckle, Heraith reached out and ruffled Lucian’s hair.

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“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

Without another word or glance back, Heraith left the room.

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Lucian stood there, staring blankly at the closed door, before collapsing backward onto the bed.

The emperor’s luxurious bed enveloped him soundlessly as he let out a heavy sigh.

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“What the hell is wrong with me…”

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded pitiful. Lucian had no idea what he wanted or what he was feeling.

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Lying there, unmoving, he stared at the ceiling as his mind replayed the scene over and over. His eyes slowly drifted shut, though sleep didn’t come easily.

Even as he teetered on the edge of slumber, the image of Heraith walking away lingered stubbornly in his thoughts.

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The next afternoon, Lucian received a visit from the two association leaders.

Thankfully, he was able to meet them in his own chambers instead of the emperor’s.

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“Let’s keep this brief,” Cliff, the head attendant, said sharply as he ushered the two men into Lucian’s room.

Lucian hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to rise from his seat. In the end, he decided against it and opted to appear as sickly as possible.

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Fortunately, his complexion was still as pale as it had been the day before—perfect for his plan.

When the two leaders, Chauver and Frisder, saw his haggard appearance, they froze mid-step, looking slightly startled. Lucian pretended not to notice, lowering his gaze.

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“I heard you were quite unwell.”

“You should’ve told us. A vial of holy water would’ve done the trick.”

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“Holy water? Nonsense! A magic potion is far more effective—it restores stamina instantly.”

“Ha! Says the old coot who—”

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“If you’re going to bicker, kindly take it outside,” Lucian interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not exactly in the mood for this.”

The two men, clearly chastised, exchanged sheepish glances.

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“Our apologies.”

“Right, we didn’t mean to argue.”

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“It’s just… an old habit, you see…”

Lucian let out a quiet sigh, leaning back slightly. How these two men managed to work together at all was a mystery.

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“Anyway, let’s get to the point.”

What followed was a discussion that, for once, seemed productive. They reviewed and finalized the association’s structure—a task that had taken countless meetings to settle.

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Lucian allowed himself a small smile of relief as he spoke.

“Thank you for your efforts. I’ll report this to His Majesty as soon as I’m fully recovered, and we can move forward from there.”

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Chauver and Frisder, seeing Lucian’s faint smile, looked almost guilty.

“Yes, we may have been a bit… difficult.”

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“Truth be told, we got carried away because you were so accommodating.”

“It won’t happen again.”

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Their awkward apologies were almost endearing, and Lucian found himself chuckling softly.

“Honestly, you two get along better than you think.”

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Their indignant protests aside, Lucian couldn’t help but think they were a strangely fitting pair.

“Anyway, announcing this at your children’s weddings might make for a fine gift.”

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The leaders exchanged a meaningful look at his comment before Chauver spoke hesitantly.

“Lucian… about His Majesty…”

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Lucian raised an eyebrow, waiting for them to continue. But they faltered, each one glancing at the other, unwilling to speak.

“Never mind,” Frisder finally said with a sigh. “Forget we said anything.”

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Lucian couldn’t decipher the peculiar looks they gave him, but before they left, they each grabbed his hand and solemnly declared:

“If anything happens between you and His Majesty, come to us immediately.”

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“…Excuse me?”

“We mean it. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

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Lucian stared at them, bewildered, as they reiterated their promise with an unusual seriousness.

“Reporting for duty,” Lucian said, bowing deeply.

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Heraith looked up from his documents, his eyes briefly scanning Lucian before he spoke.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? You should rest a little longer.”

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“Resting doesn’t solve anything. It only makes the workload pile up.”

“Still, if you’re unwell—”

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“I’m fine.”

Heraith muttered something under his breath, his voice so low Lucian barely caught it.

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“When did you manage to gather so many allies, anyway?”

“…What?”

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“Nothing.” Heraith sighed before adding, “Their nagging is unbearable, you know.”

Nagging? What on earth is he talking about?

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