Chapter 13

​Ye-hwi, reading the report by the flickering light of the candle Geon-seo had brought, easily grasped the warrior’s meaning and looked up.

​“No. That would only invite trouble.”

​“Pardon? Are the people of this house mistreating you, Your Highness?”

​“No. Quite the opposite.”

​“Sir?”

​Hwi considered the reality of the annex. Not long ago, because the portion of porridge for the ailing nanny seemed insufficient, Yong-rae had scooped a single extra ladle of leftovers from the kitchen. The kitchen matron had seen this and reported it to the butler; for that one ladle, Yong-rae had been slapped across the face. What would happen if they discovered Hwi using luxury goods from the outside? They would surely move to harm him. And in such a situation, how would he be forced to react?

​He would likely have to slaughter every living soul in the Seong family.

​It mattered little to him if they all died. It was none of his business. However, such a massacre would jeopardize the First Prince of the Mir Kingdom, who had only just secured his footing after entering the Ansi Kingdom. If the situation soured and the First Prince was backed into a corner, Hwi knew exactly who his brother would drag down with him.

​‘The Fourth Prince, who entered Ansi in secret without informing either the Mir Imperial Family or the Ansi Royal Family, wiped out an entire Ansi Maru clan.’

​He could not hand the First Prince such a perfect card to play.

​“If I were to kill everyone here, wouldn’t it cause unnecessary headaches for my eldest brother?”

​“Still, the treatment you are receiving is—”

​“Tell my brother I will pay him a visit soon.”

​“…As you wish.”

​“Geon-seo. Regarding my entry into the Ansi Kingdom—how long has my brother known?”

​“For one month, Your Highness.”

​Only Geon-seo, Geon-hyeong, Jin-myeong, and the First Prince were aware of his journey to Ansi. If, as Geon-seo suspected, Hwi hadn’t been attacked at random under the assumption that he was part of the Mir diplomatic mission, it meant the assassins had been lying in wait specifically for him.

​Don’t tell me… was it the First Prince? Unlike his mother, I thought him the type to accept circumstances as they are. Was I wrong?

​Ye-hwi popped another meat skewer into his mouth, lost in thought, before issuing his next command.

​“Investigate the Pung-u Merchant Guild. Find out what they do, their trade routes, and the identity of the guild master. I want everything.”

​“How deep should I dig?”

​“As far as the Mir Kingdom, if possible. But for now, report on their operations here in Ansi as quickly as you can.”

​“Understood.”

​Once his orders were dispatched and he was left alone once more, Ye-hwi sat in the darkness, gazing up at the moon’s halo. Staring at the soft, cloud-like rim encircling the lunar disk, he found himself recalling the smile he had glimpsed on Yoo-ha’s face that afternoon.

​Seong Yoo-ha, a man who had always worn expressions so ambiguous and unreadable, had smiled brightly for the first time. It was beautiful without being blinding; pleasant to look upon, yet none of those artificial sparkles. It was a strange contradiction, one for which he had no other words. And yet, the regret of seeing that smile vanish had been so sharp that he had actually urged the man to show it to him again.

​“Was it similar to a moon halo?”

​Ye-hwi gazed up at the moon illuminating the unsightly annex garden, where gray and green clashed in a grotesque tangle. He tapped the pouch hanging at his waist, lost in thought for a moment, before rising and heading toward the room where Yoo-ha slept.

​Creak.

​The paper-thin wall, desperate for oiling, let out a sharp cry. But Ye-hwi, having grown accustomed to the sound, ignored it. He closed the door behind him and walked to the innermost part of the room where Yoo-ha lay. Bedding had been laid out for him near the door, but as was his usual way, Hwi paid it no mind.

​Seong Yoo-ha. A being who was not a Maru, yet felt like one. The reason Hwi was enduring this farce—playing at being a servant—was for this very moment. He was certain of it: Seong Yoo-ha was the only one who could cool his boiling blood.

​Ye-hwi sat quietly beside him and placed an empty brazier on the floor. Then, he held his hand over the cold iron.

​Crack, crackle, pop.

​The sound of sparks flying was followed by a sudden whoosh as the brazier filled with red flames. Once he confirmed the fire was steady, the brazier began to float gently into the air.

​The iron was being heated not by charcoal, but by Hwi’s own divine power. Because the vessel remained suspended, it did not scorch the floorboards. Hwi poured heat into the room every night using this method, warming the air for the man beside him.

​As the warmth spread through the small chamber, Yoo-ha’s body, which had been curled tight against the chill, began to relax. His breathing slowed into a steady rhythm, and the furrow in his brow smoothed out completely.

​A flickering red shadow danced across Ye-hwi’s face as he watched him. Hwi eventually lifted the blanket and lay down. Reaching out, he pulled Yoo-ha into his arms, burying his nose in the crook of the man’s neck and taking a deep breath.

​There was no distinct scent, yet it felt as if he were inhaling the wind. A cool, soothing sensation began to bloom wherever their skin touched.

​“It is fascinating,” Hwi murmured.

​He shifted Yoo-ha’s body, pulling him deeper into his embrace—cautiously, as if handling a precious and fragile treasure.

​With one large hand, Hwi cupped the back of Yoo-ha’s head and pressed the boy’s face against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around Yoo-ha’s waist, drawing him in until their bodies were pressed firmly together.

​Through the two layers of fabric, the delight of that cooling sensation took hold. Hwi exhaled a long, shaky breath. The heat that had been boiling inside him all day began to recede, and his stiff muscles finally went slack. The fiery energy that had been circulating through his veins like a violent storm—grating on his every nerve—finally loosened its grip. Even the faint headache that had followed him like a shadow vanished as if it had never existed at all.