Chapter 27: Bite in the Rain

“So His Majesty is safe?!”

Startled awake by the midnight disturbance, the head attendant came running out in his nightclothes, his fingertips trembling as he shouted.

He had just been about to rise from bed after hearing that the Emperor had returned from the Minister of Finance’s birthday banquet.

Then the chamberlain who had accompanied the Emperor came rushing in, pale-faced, reporting that an intruder had entered the annex where the Emperor had been staying.

After a great commotion, it was revealed that the intruder was a male prostitute summoned by Rutan, the youngest son of the Minister of Finance.

The prostitute had gone to the place where they usually held secret meetings, and while intoxicated by drugs, had mistaken the Emperor for Rutan and approached him.

Upon awakening, the Emperor subdued him immediately.

The Minister of Finance fell to his knees, begging forgiveness for the sins of his youngest son, who was notorious for indulging excessively in debauchery.

Though there had been no intent to assassinate the Emperor, laying hands upon the imperial body was still a grave crime.

The male prostitute was dragged away by guards and imprisoned, while Rutan was ordered into confinement under his father’s supervision.

“Yes, Head Attendant. However…”

“Speak at once! Are you trying to make this old man’s heart burst?!”

“His Majesty was greatly displeased and, rather than returning to the main palace, proceeded to the consorts’ quarters.”

“To the consorts’ quarters?”

“Yes, Head Attendant. He entered the Swallow Palace.”

At those words, the head attendant glanced toward the clock resting atop the cabinet.

It was already past midnight.

Fortunately, His Majesty’s body had not been harmed. Still, it seemed the Emperor had been deeply shaken and wounded by the incident.

He could only hope that Lord Fria would soothe His Majesty well.

“Visiting another’s bedchamber without notice at such a late hour would be discourteous even between husband and wife. But Lord Fria is wise. He will surely respond with tact and avoid provoking His Majesty further.”

‘Should I mention that he looked ready to kill someone or not…’

The chamberlain recalled the Emperor’s appearance as he headed toward the consorts’ palace, unease clouding his face.

As rain poured down, the Emperor had violently shoved away the attendants trying to shield him beneath waterproof cloths and strode through the storm alone.

He may have still been enraged after experiencing something unpleasant, but that expression had not resembled a man going to see a cherished lover.

Rather, it was the face of someone heading to confront the enemy who had murdered his parents.

‘It’ll be alright… won’t it?’

The rumored male consort who had utterly captivated the stone-hearted Emperor.

The chamberlain forcibly pushed aside his anxiety and shivered in his rain-soaked clothes.

He, too, longed for the warmth of a lover’s bed.

A bed heated by the warmth of a beloved.

****

A forest.

With the sound of hunting horns, the thunder of dozens of horses’ hooves echoed through the woods.

The imperial hunt announcing the arrival of winter had just begun.

Bowstrings were drawn taut, arrows flew through the air, and swift hounds raced after them.

Owen reached into his quiver and drew a second arrow.

Noblewomen dressed in riding attire gasped exaggeratedly in admiration of the imperial grandson’s skill with the bow.

When a servant pressed a blade to the neck of a deer cornered by the hunting dogs, the sharp scent of blood spread through the air, followed by another chorus of feminine exclamations.

The attendants competed with one another to twist the necks of the captured animals, butcher their limbs, and load them into carts.

The sun stood high overhead.

As the hunt reached deeper into the forest, the men immersed in the chase scattered farther into the mountains in pursuit of prey.

At Owen’s whistle, the hawk soaring high above flapped its wings and descended onto his shoulder.

He had just witnessed the Crown Prince atop a black horse, snapping his whip as he rode toward the mountain summit.

His father’s preferred prey was foxes.

There had once been a time when Owen had cheered at the sight of his father returning with beautiful fox pelts draped across his horse.
Yet not once had he ever become the owner of those furs.

He disliked receiving prey hunted by others.

When young Owen had stubbornly insisted that he wanted a red fox skin hunted by his father himself, Arthur had ventured out on his first hunt and returned injured, carrying one for him.

Ever since he first joined the hunt at twelve years old, Owen had never once missed his prey.

With loud barking, one of the hounds burst from the bushes carrying a flapping pheasant in its jaws.

It was a brightly feathered male with a long tail.

Owen stared emotionlessly at the bloodied neck of the pheasant brought to him.

A hawk that had discovered a young animal separated from its mother returned with the creature clenched tightly in its talons and began filling its hungry stomach.

Between the peeling trunks of birch trees, he caught sight of fluttering red skirts.

No woman interested enough in hunting to venture this deep into the mountains could possibly exist.

The noblewomen in riding clothes were all resting inside tents erected near the forest entrance.

It was Yonnana, the lover his father had insisted on bringing even to an imperial event.

After stroking the heads of the growling hounds threatening the figure, Owen climbed back onto his horse.

In the distance, a reddish fox darted across the forest.

Owen drew an arrow and pulled back the bowstring to its limit.

Ahead, the tail of the white horse ridden by the man swayed from side to side.

To reach the upper mountain where the Crown Prince waited, one had to leap across a cliff.

Compared to its depth, the gap itself was narrow enough for a fully grown horse to clear with ease.

Urged repeatedly by the impatient Crown Prince calling for his lover, the man steered the horse toward the precipice.

Now nearly an adult, Owen was no longer tormented by that man.

Nor did their paths cross anymore.

Each time Owen looked into a mirror and saw himself growing more like his father, disgust churned in his stomach.

He was at an age where his blood burned hot. As his body matured, lust arose regardless of his will, and there were moments he even wanted to mutilate himself below the waist just as that man had been.

“I always wanted to die.”

The man’s voice echoed in his ears.

If he truly wanted to die, then he should have simply died.

Before following the Crown Prince to the Empire. Before entering the Crown Princess’s bedchamber. Before lending his filthy body to bring Owen into this world.

“They say Your Highness truly is an excellent archer. You almost shot the horse I was riding.”

Had Arthur wanted to kill that man too?

The red fox chased by the hounds burst from the bushes and raced toward the cliff.

The bowstring, drawn to its limit, finally lost its tension, and Owen’s arrow flew free.

“Still too young to kill someone, are you? Your Highness, once you’re older… will you set me free?”

“Yelp!”

A beast’s scream rang out.

Behind Owen’s tightly shut eyelids, fragments of light scattered chaotically.

The barking of hounds echoed all around him.

He opened his eyes.

Beneath the brilliant sunlight, the fox struck by his arrow lay collapsed near the cliff’s edge.

The man was nowhere to be seen.

Neither was the white horse.

Had he crossed safely?

Owen walked to the edge of the precipice and absentmindedly looked down.

A flower.

Far below the endless cliff, crimson fabric bloomed like a flower.

****

A cough mixed with retching burst from Fria’s throat, tears and mucus spilling together.

Air rushed violently into his open mouth.

Pain hammered through his lungs like blows from a mallet.

Fria gasped desperately, realizing with his entire body that both too little air and too much could become agony.

‘What the hell does he think people are?!’

The unfairness of it all, the fury of being attacked for no reason, and the shock of nearly dying made Fria tremble violently.

He had already been exhausted from enduring endless gazes filled with curiosity and hostility throughout the entire afternoon.

Hearing that the Emperor had yet to return from the banquet, he had finally relaxed, assuming he would not come tonight, and gone to bed.

Perhaps because he was so tired, sleep had come strangely slowly.

Thinking that if they met again, he should at least remember their names so he would not forget them, Fria had been recalling the consorts he met at the tea gathering.

…Rosetta, the elegant and dignified noble girl.

The three girls who openly displayed hostility, Larissa, Justina, and Emmeline.

The frail girl Beca, who hid behind her chair while peeking at him.

And Regina, the daughter of House Axendar, whom he never managed to see until the end.

Including little ladies Rosanna and Margaret, there were eight in total.

Including himself, that made nine official consorts.

Even excluding himself, a man, and the two young girls, there were still six.

Young and healthy women who could bear plenty of heirs if they united with the Emperor.

And that was not all.

If the Emperor wished it, there were hundreds of women inside and outside the palace who would leap willingly into his arms.

So why come here of all places?

Just as Fria let out a sigh, commotion erupted outside.

Then, without even a knock, the bedroom doors burst open.

“Who-?”

Before he could even process it, a figure approached and pressed his body down atop Fria’s.

“Your Majesty- Ah!”

The head maid who had followed behind flushed red and quickly retreated, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

“…Your Majesty?”

Then again, at this hour of night, who else could possibly storm in like this besides this bastard?

“Your Majesty, you’re soaked. At least dry yourself first-”

His entire body was drenched.

The scent of wet earth clung heavily to him, as though he had been wandering somewhere in the rain.

Because Owen had collapsed onto him in dripping clothes, even Fria’s night robes were becoming soaked.

As Fria tried to remove his outer garments, Owen seized his hand and glared at him with burning eyes.

“Just… take it off…”

Fria could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

Owen seemed furious, but Fria had no idea why, making it impossible to think of the right response.

After staring at him for a long while, Owen lowered his head over Fria once more.

“-Hngh!”

For the first time, Owen bared his teeth and bit down on Fria’s neck.

‘What the…?’

With his hands restrained, Fria could only hunch his shoulders helplessly.

Why is he suddenly doing things he’s never done before?

“Ah!”

Owen bit him like a wild dog, sharp teeth digging into flesh hard enough to cause pain.

Fria let out a sharp cry.

Hearing the sound, Owen paused briefly.

Fria twisted his body, trying to escape from beneath him, but Owen’s shoulders did not budge an inch.

A rough, animalistic breath poured from Owen’s lips.

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