Chapter 53: The Duke’s intentions are... Unholy

Julian wanted to reject him. He had a potion to make, his soul to save, and a growing fear of the way the Duke looked at him. But the Duke was already pouring the dark, crimson liquid into the glasses, the aroma of fermented berries filling the room.

It was as if he was saying, ’I don’t plan to take a no from you.’

How was he any different from the Emperor when he does things like this?

"Sit, Astrea," Alaric commanded, gesturing to the couch opposite him. His blue eyes were fixed on the wine, his jaw set in a hard line. "Allow me to face my fears."

Julian stood there, the word ’fears’ echoing in his mind like a riddle.

What could a man like Alaric fear? The Emperor? The past? Or the very man standing across from him?

He couldn’t make sense of it, but seeing the Duke had no plans of leaving, he had to put his potion-making plans aside. As regrettable as it was, he couldn’t help but do that.

He couldn’t chase the Duke away with no valid reason.

And so, he sat down.

Julian looked at the two wine bottles.

One bottle became two.

But he knew that even if he finished these two wine bottles, he still wouldn’t be able to get a good night’s sleep. He just had to go along with it because it was an order hidden as a favor.

He picked up his wine glass and gulped it.

Julian felt the familiar warmth of the wine sliding down his throat, but something was different. Perhaps it was the ’alcohol method’ he’d been using for days, but his mind stayed sharp even as his body began to feel heavy.

He wasn’t as wasted as he had been that first night he drank with the Duke at the inn. He was dazed, yes—his cheeks flushed and his head leaning back against the velvet—but he was awake.

The Duke poured him another glass, and he gulped it in the same manner. It continued until they got to the next bottle.

The silence of the Jade Wing drowned their presence. The only sounds heard were the bottle and the crackle of the magical fire in the fireplace with no wood.

Julian had no idea what the Duke was planning, but he was going along with it, whatever it may be.

Little did he know that it was a dangerous thought.

Alaric stopped pouring wine into Julian’s glass once he noticed he wasn’t moving any longer.

He had surrendered himself to the power of alcohol, his head leaning against the velvet couch.

He watched him for a while, slowly sipping his own wine. The thoughts that went through this man’s head were... Unholy.

Then, he stood up, his tall frame shadowing Julian completely. He didn’t stay on his side of the table. He moved until he was hovering directly over Julian, his hands gripping the back of the couch on either side of Julian’s head and his face just inches from Julian’s.

Julian slowly opened his eyes, his odd-colored eyes—one purple, one blue—shimmering with a drunken, hazy light. The Duke’s blue eyes were dark, searching Julian’s face with a desperation that made the air feel electric.

Alaric believed Julian wouldn’t remember this. He believed it was just like that night when he watched him, and Julian never remembered it.

"Why..." the Duke whispered, his voice cracking as he leaned closer. He was asking himself as much as Julian. "Why you?" Why do I feel this way towards you?

He wanted to believe it was because Julian had led him out of the seven-year darkness. He wanted to believe it was because his wife’s ghost had handed him over to Julian’s care. He needed a valid reason—any reason—that didn’t involve the terrifying truth of his own heart.

Julian watched him, his thoughts swirling in a slow, golden fog. ’Is this a dream?’ he wondered. It felt like one. The moonlight seeping into the room, the glowing garden outside, the faint smell of the wine, and Duke’s face inches from his own.

In his daze, a reckless thought took root in Julian’s mind. He needed to know. He needed to confirm if the ’heat’ he felt in the garden was just the pollen or something far more permanent.

He had denied it. He had wanted to keep denying it. But he knew he couldn’t deny it forever. He knew that one day... He’d have to confront it.

So before then, before all the denial proved to be useless, he had to confirm it now... Now in this dream.

’If I kiss him and feel disgusted... then I’m definitely not falling into any sort of delusion,’ Julian thought, his gaze drifting to the Duke’s lips. ’But if I don’t...’

If he doesn’t hate the contact with this man’s lips, what could that mean?

Julian tilted his head back further, exposing the pale line of his throat and his Adam’s apple, his eyes locking onto Alaric’s with a silent, drunken challenge.

Then, he reached up and grabbed the fabric of the Duke’s loose robe.

Alaric stiffened, his breath hitching, but he didn’t stop him. Julian pulled the Duke down the rest of the way until their lips met.

It wasn’t a soft touch. It was a direct, clumsy collision of wine-stained lips. Julian kept his eyes open for a second, watching the Duke’s long lashes flutter in shock before his eyes finally eased and fluttered shut.

Julian waited for the revulsion to hit. He waited to feel the urge to push the Duke away. He kept waiting, but it never happened.

Instead, a sharp, electric spark shot through him. The Duke’s hand, calloused and warm, moved from the couch to Julian’s jaw, holding him there with a firm, desperate grip.

Alaric let out a low groan, deepening the kiss as if he were finally letting go of the restraint that had been holding him back.

Suddenly, the system window flashed in Julian’s vision, glowing bright in the dim room.

> [NOTIFICATION: Target ’Duke Alaric’ — Affection Level Spike]

> Current Affection: 45% >>> 52%

> [Status: Falling]

Julian’s eyes snapped wide open at the sight of the numbers. 52%. The Duke wasn’t just ’intrigued’ anymore; he was falling.

This shot panic through Julian’s body as the thought of actually going deep into the direction he wanted to avoid hit him.

It no longer felt like a dream. It was real, and the system window just confirmed it. This kiss and the Duke’s feelings... All of it was real.

Julian broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he panted. He stared at Alaric, who was still hovering right there, his forehead resting against Julian’s.

The Duke looked completely undone, his face flushed under his tan, his eyes still closed as he tried to process what had just happened and lingered further in the taste of Julian’s lips.

Julian sat frozen. He thought it was a dream, and that was why he tried to ’test’ the Duke and ’test’ himself. But as he looked at the Duke’s trembling hands, he realized his ’test’ had just backfired. He wasn’t disgusted at all. And worst of all, this wasn’t a dream.

"Your Grace..." Julian whispered, his voice cracking.

Alaric didn’t open his eyes. He just tightened his grip on Julian’s jaw, his thumb brushing over Julian’s lower lip.

"Don’t speak," the Duke rasped. "Just... stay like this for a moment. You won’t remember it anyway."

Julian bit the inside of his mouth. He did remember. He remembered every second of it. So how was he going to pretend like this never happened?