Just like Yuder had done at the Cavalry headquarters a few days ago, Kishiar began explaining, in great detail, each and every object within his bedroom and the adjoining makeshift office. When Yuder asked about something that caught his eye—no matter how trivial—Kishiar would respond with a pleased expression.

“The bed looks brand new. Did you have it made recently?”

“Compared to the other items here, yes. When I first arrived, I made a bed using the same wood as that desk over there. But back then, I didn’t realize I’d grow this much. I made it at a rather modest size, which turned out to be a mistake. In the end, it became too small, so I had to remake it about four years ago. That’s this one.”

Fortunately, the desk hadn’t been too inconvenient to use even after he’d grown, so he hadn’t bothered to replace it. At Kishiar’s amused explanation, Yuder found himself unable to say anything.

He said, “I didn’t expect to grow this much,”—but what he really meant was that he hadn’t expected to live past adulthood at all. The fact that he had remade the bed meant that, during the time before awakening, when death had drawn close, he’d spent so long lying in bed that it had become unusable without being rebuilt.

Near both the bed and the desk, with a partition wall between them, sat a magic stone stove and a fireplace each. The fireplace, which had been there since the castle’s construction, was now unused, while the two magic stone stoves radiated a vibrant, colorful warmth. Yuder slowly walked toward the desk.

The pen, worn with use, and the ink bottle. The old books neatly arranged to be accessed at any time. It all looked strikingly similar to the desk in the Commander’s office at the Cavalry headquarters. Anyone would immediately know both spaces belonged to the same person.

But perhaps because this was only a makeshift office, there weren’t that many items placed here. Yuder briefly recalled «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» the location he had once visited to carry out an assassination. That too had been Kishiar’s office, but the location was different.

A different floor. The room was much bigger. That must’ve been the official office.

Back then, Yuder hadn’t known about Kishiar’s health, so it never occurred to him that there might be a makeshift office attached to the bedroom. The same would’ve been true for Emperor Kachian, who had passed information to Yudrain Aile.

If Kishiar had been gravely ill, it made sense that he would’ve stayed more often in this isolated room with its emergency-sealing wall than in the official office. Yet, without a single hint of such circumstances, he’d sat alone at the official desk Yuder had visited.

Without even turning on the magic stove. Calmly drinking tea, as if nothing were wrong.

Now that Yuder knew Kishiar’s nature better, it struck him as utterly absurd. Kishiar had placed so much meaning on the magic stove that he’d even incorporated fire into his personal crest. Unless the weather was scorching, he would always light a magic stove wherever he stayed—so why hadn’t he, that day?

He must’ve known it was all about to become meaningless.

If this had been before he removed Kishiar’s white gloves, Yuder might’ve had darker thoughts upon realizing this. But now, only one thought came to mind:

The more he came to know Kishiar, the more painfully obvious it became just how little he’d understood him back then.

Silently, Yuder swept his hand across the desk in the makeshift office.

Maybe the reason Kishiar said nothing about the official office and instead made a point of saying he merged the rooms to build this one... was because I once saw that other place in a dream.

The nightmare where he had endlessly tried to escape the castle, killing and killing Kishiar la Orr over and over again.

Through their connection, Kishiar had once glimpsed that nightmare and pulled Yuder out of it. Having seen that dream, perhaps he had thought Yuder would be discomforted by encountering a space similar to the one in the dream again.

But now that I’ve come here, I can’t not go back there at least once.

Yuder appreciated the consideration, but before leaving Peleta, he intended to visit that place again.

Because he knew that a piece of that dead man still remained in the darkness of that room—and he had to face it.

Just then, while his hand rested on the desk, a larger hand settled on top of it.

“Tired?”

Turning his head, Yuder met eyes that, catching the glow of the magic stove, looked straight into him as if trying to pierce through his thoughts.

“I must’ve talked too much, all caught up in the excitement.”

“Not at all.”

Yuder shook his head and turned his palm upward, entwining his fingers fully with Kishiar’s—firmly, as if he’d never let go, no matter what happened.

Just like when Kishiar had reached for him in that nightmare.

“Please keep talking. I want to hear more.”

He pulled the intertwined hand closer and pressed his lips against Kishiar’s fingers. For a moment, Kishiar’s eyelids twitched slightly, and the air between them grew heavy and deep.

“...I’ve explained most of the items in this room by now, so I wonder what else I should talk about. Is there something you want to hear?”

Something he wanted?

Wasn’t the answer obvious?

“Anything about your time living here. Everything.”

“...Damn.”

Looking down at the fingers Yuder had just kissed, Kishiar gave a helpless smile—one that softened yet couldn’t hide a tightly drawn longing beneath.

“I was thinking I’d let you rest tonight, since you must be exhausted.”

“If I had work tomorrow, I’d agree. But that’s not the case now, is it?”

Because this is Peleta.

Yuder slowly opened his lips and slid out the tip of his tongue. Then he bit down firmly on the long, elegant joint of the finger trapped in his hand—hard enough not to hurt, but enough to leave a mark.

When he pulled back and saw the impression left behind, he looked up to find Kishiar’s expression devoid of any amusement.

His gaze was like that of a beast that had been waiting quietly—eyes burning with heat for the intruder who’d dared step into its domain.

“...Yeah. That’s right.”

As if that answer had triggered something, the tension that had been humming quietly between them snapped and exploded all at once.

Instead of the hand held by Yuder, Kishiar’s other arm wrapped around his waist. Yuder didn’t avoid the lips that approached but met them, eyes lowering in acceptance.

His lower body, half leaning against the desk, rocked as if it might tip backward—but there was no need to worry. While immersed in the decadent thrill of their joined mouths, everything moved forward on its own.

Yuder gave his entire body over to the man who could lift a grown adult with a single arm, focusing only on tasting the space overflowing with Kishiar’s scent.

The moment he blinked once, the scenery changed. The two of them collapsed onto the bed—the one that no one but its owner had ever lain upon—with a groaning creak.

As Kishiar pulled him close, Yuder released their entwined hands and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck instead. When Kishiar’s hand slid under his clothes, Yuder lifted his hips in silent encouragement. The man let out a rough, ragged breath and buried his lips against Yuder’s neck.

The feel of teeth sinking into the pulse point—like it would be swallowed in a single bite—made Yuder’s body tremble involuntarily. The primal alarm of having one’s throat beneath another’s jaws, the hyper-alert nerves running through every inch of his body, and the way his flesh interpreted that danger as a sharp, overwhelming pleasure—all of it collided inside him.

Their bodies, joined without the slightest gap, turned even the faintest tremor into something that felt like thunder. The scent of Kishiar, heavier than usual in his breath, made Yuder’s head spin. But Yuder wasn’t overwhelmed—he released his own scent into the space, and breathed deeply and rapidly, lungs swelling to their limit to take all of it in.

Even just that was enough for a wave of pleasure to hit—his lower body stiffening, and moments later, the unmistakable sensation of dampness spreading through his belly.

They had done this many times before. Yet this heat, soaking through him now, felt uniquely raw and vivid—perhaps because they were in Peleta.

Yuder closed his eyes.

And then, more willingly than ever, he accepted the fire pouring into him.