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Join the ServerThe central plaza of Ashilton was awash in a vibrant crimson, borrowing its hues from the power of the setting sun. The intense, slanting light before dusk was almost blinding.
Ethan, clutching a red clay pot, made his slow procession across the expansive plaza. Trailing behind him were men and women, each representing a different age group, carrying smaller, similar pots.
Their ceremonial attire, though simpler and shorter than traditional garments for better mobility, remained exquisitely ornate. With every step Ethan took, the fabric rustled and billowed, creating a gentle whisper.
As cameras tracked their movement, Ethan’s face was projected onto the colossal monitors erected across the plaza, drawing gasps of admiration from the throng. It was a widespread notion, not merely continental but global, that Espers often possessed a more striking beauty than Guides.
Consequently, the general populace tended to bestow more attention upon a beautiful Guide than an equally beautiful Esper. This held especially true for one bearing the title ‘Flower of the Empire,’ a designation signifying Aitoolia’s most exceptional Guide.
Until this moment, Devon Green had been the one lauded by the Aitoolia Empire’s citizens, adorned with the grand epithet: ‘a beautiful Guide possessing a delicate, crystal-like beauty.’ It was not to say that Rosalyn Green, the previous Flower of the Empire, lacked beauty.
However, her renown could not rival that of Devon Green, who masterfully exploited his striking looks for his political advancement. A royal, and moreover, a potent multi-Guide, he was the epitome.
Any individual with even a passing interest in Espers and Guides would invariably conjure ‘Prince Devon Green’ when contemplating the Empire’s most flawless and exquisite Guide, even if their exposure to him was limited to fleeting appearances in public media.
As Ethan placed his pot at the goddess statue’s feet, his followers carefully set down their own, forming a circle around his. At that very instant, celebratory fireworks erupted into the sky, announcing the festival’s official commencement.
“Please, come this way!” Eager participants pressed forward, converging on the goddess statue to place their pots near Ethan’s.
Guided by the royal guards, Ethan swiftly withdrew from the crowd, making his way to a waiting car. Inside, Bliss, who had been patiently anticipating his arrival, quickly drew Ethan into his embrace just as the guards sealed the door.
The timing was precarious; the plaza instantly swelled with people. The royal guards, forming a protective barrier, fended off reporters clamoring to photograph Ethan’s vehicle, clearing a path for the car to slowly pull away.
Ethan gazed out, a hint of weariness subtly etched upon his face. It was a profound realization, only now truly settling in, that he was deeply entangled in Ashilton’s Spring Flower Festival—an event he had previously only encountered through occasional news reports from Morapolio.
This festival, once seemingly distant, had become intrinsically tied to him because of the title he now bore. Ethan offered a wry, almost bitter smile, reflecting on how his entire life seemed to have undergone a similar, unexpected transformation.
“…Do you regret it?” Bliss, who had been silently watching, murmured as he gently pulled Ethan into his embrace. A sudden unease prickled at him, seeing Ethan’s gaze fixed solely on the world outside the window, and he tightened his arms instinctively.
Ethan leaned into Bliss’s warmth, shaking his head softly.
“Do you truly believe I hadn’t wrestled with these thoughts before, even before revealing I was a Guide to you, Bliss? I genuinely wished to live a quiet life, almost as if I didn’t exist.”
Bliss’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at that. To live as if he didn’t exist was simply unfathomable for his Guide, who, whether by striking appearance or captivating personality, invariably drew every eye.
Unaware of Bliss’s internal musings, Ethan continued, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he met Bliss’s gaze. “…Because I love you, even when I desperately tried to keep it secret, I found myself constantly giving it away without realizing.”
Bliss’s heterochromatic eyes widened in profound astonishment. His beautiful blue and ash-grey irises visibly trembled at Ethan’s sudden, heartfelt confession of love.
“…I’ve just heard you say ‘I love you’ for the very first time,” Bliss murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and exasperation. “And on a day like this, I’m expected to go to the Viscount’s estate.”
Still savoring Ethan’s words with a somewhat dazed expression, Bliss buried his face in his lover’s neck, exhaling a deep sigh that was both a lament and a heartfelt groan.
Given the widespread rumor that Ethan’s adoptive parents were the Viscount and Viscountess Gradis, emerging from their residence on the day of the actual ceremony was a strategic move. It would effectively minimize any potential for further speculation and gossip.
Moreover, this day of orchestrated chaos offered a perfect diversion. It would draw attention away from Marquis Douglas Moore, Hans, and Liam, who, while officially believed to be still residing in Southern Aitoolia, had secretly made their way into Ashilton.
“I heard you brought a guest,” Ethan remarked, breaking the comfortable silence.
“…So I’m told,” Bliss replied, a hint of intrigue in his voice. “I haven’t met them myself. It’s truly been a long time since my grandfather has exercised such caution.”
Even the information relayed through confidential channels had been sparse. All Bliss had received was a rather vague assurance: that this individual would be able to properly corroborate Ethan’s identity and would undoubtedly prove helpful.
“I heard that guest will be attending tomorrow’s party, and they intend to prevent you from becoming a Gradis,” Ethan shared. “Given that they’re apparently scheduled to greet His Majesty the King, they must be a remarkably influential figure.”
“…That’s a relief,” Ethan admitted, a genuine sigh escaping him. “Even though I knew it wasn’t true, a part of me still worried about what would happen if I truly did become a Gradis.”
*Chok, chok.* Bliss chuckled softly, trailing feather-light kisses along Ethan’s sensitive neckline.
“That’s impossible,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. “You, my love, are destined to become a ‘Moore’.”
“D-don’t be so incredibly certain!” Ethan exclaimed, his face flushing crimson as he gently pushed Bliss away. He spoke in an exaggerated tone, hoping to conceal his sudden shyness.
However, Bliss merely offered a calm, knowing smile, as if stating an undeniable truth. This time, he leaned in and pressed a light, bird-like kiss to Ethan’s lips.
“Anything is fine,” Bliss declared, his eyes twinkling. “As long as I can be with you, Ethan. Though, we should probably plan our escape route in advance. And a country for asylum, of course.”
“…W-will the conference truly begin tomorrow?” Ethan stammered, his attempt at humor falling flat when Bliss took it entirely seriously. Left utterly speechless, he subtly pushed away the hand that was now slowly tracing his thigh and venturing further inward, swiftly changing the subject.
Ever since Ethan’s health had declined, Bliss had refrained from forcing any intimate relations. However, in lieu of that, he often brazenly disregarded both time and place, initiating intense physical affection that frequently left Ethan in a state of profound embarrassment.
Even now, Ethan found himself doing his utmost to fend off Bliss, acutely aware of Kyle driving in the front seat, separated only by a partition, and Maxon likely seated beside him.
“I believe I understand why you’re asking, despite hearing the information alongside me,” Bliss began, his voice a low rumble. “But I’ll answer as if you’ve suddenly forgotten. The conference is scheduled to commence the day after tomorrow, following tomorrow’s party and a luncheon. So, Ethan, kiss me now. Should you feel breathless, you are free to pull away immediately.”
Ethan simply closed his eyes, exhaling a soft sigh of resignation. He then yielded to Bliss, whose tongue gently sought and intertwined with his own.
****
[This year, the flower chosen by the Flower of the Empire is none other than the peony, renowned for its magnificent size and beauty. Perhaps this explains why the attire of today’s ‘Flower of the Empire,’ presiding over the ceremony, is so exceptionally lavish. Considering the sheer scale of the topiary, one can only imagine the grandeur of the flower crown’s design! Ah, and now, the flower crown has finally been unveiled! As anticipated, it is a truly splendid creation, perfectly befitting this joyous festival. But the most significant highlight of today’s event is undoubtedly the reappearance of Aitoolia’s youngest officer, Colonel Bliss Moore. Having vanished after a single promotional appearance at his commissioning ceremony, he now steps into the media spotlight as the Esper of the new Flower of the Empire…!]
Live broadcasts of the ceremony’s unfolding events flickered on screens scattered everywhere. Ethan struggled to compose his features, fighting back a grimace that threatened to distort his composure.
To his right, Bliss Moore stood impeccably handsome, clad in his uniform, which bore the striking emblem of Antares’s red scorpion. To his left, Huey Cloud cut an equally elegant figure in a light, sophisticated cream-colored suit.
“Why not offer a small smile for the cameras?” Huey whispered, his voice barely audible to them.
*Thump.* With a subtle tremor, the platform carrying them began its slow ascent. Ethan, complying with Huey’s suggestion, flashed a brilliant smile and responded with a skill bordering on ventriloquism.
“‘I’d appreciate it if you’d simply be grateful I haven’t bolted yet,’ ” he murmured, his smile unwavering.
Then, it was Bliss’s turn. Without the slightest alteration to his perfectly composed expression, he offered Ethan a quiet compliment. “It suits you well.”
Amidst their playful banter, the platform reached the head of the goddess statue, and a roar of cheers erupted from the crowd below. Ethan glanced at the monitors, noting that their upper bodies were now prominently zoomed in for all to see.
He fought the powerful urge to simply swat away the drone cameras that relentlessly pursued and circled them. Instead, he forced a wide, strained grin, pulling the corners of his mouth upward.
The enormous flower crown had already been transported to the statue’s head, ferried by several drones. Ethan’s role, meticulously pre-arranged, was to grasp the crown firmly with both hands, as if crowning a person, and then carefully place it atop the goddess statue’s head.
He had personally observed its construction within the event department, yet seeing it now, its sheer scale struck him as truly extraordinary. As anticipated, the wind was quite strong. Fearing he might stumble in his flowing robes, both Bliss and Huey moved to support Ethan’s arms as they descended from the platform.
Ethan had slowly approached, reaching out to grasp the enormous flower crown. Just then, a sudden, powerful gust of wind—a veritable squall—swept through, causing the long, trailing sections of his gown to billow upwards in unison.
“Woooaah!” The sight was magnificent: the ethereal fabrics soaring upwards in the wind, then gracefully undulating as they slowly settled back down. A colossal cheer erupted from the crowd.
The wind, now varying in intensity, continued to blow, making his garments flutter as if they were taking flight, provoking another wave of shouts. Yet, those perched high above were gripped by intense tension.
*Gasp, pant.* Ethan’s breath hitched and became ragged as he was caught directly in the sudden squall, mid-inhale. Bliss and Huey immediately steadied him, their hands firm, as he gasped and struggled for air.
“…Ethan.”
At the sound of his beloved’s distressed voice, Ethan poured all his remaining strength into his outstretched hands, firmly lowering the flower crown onto the head of the topiary goddess statue.
“WOOOOAAAH!” The loudest cheer yet erupted, accompanied by a burst of celebratory fireworks. Simultaneously, Ethan’s body gave way, collapsing entirely.
“Ethan!” Bliss and Huey cried out, rushing to his side, their frantic movements captured live by the cameras. While some in the audience, already engrossed in the festival, paid no mind, those still watching the monitors voiced their alarmed exclamations.
“Oh, it seems the new Flower of the Empire is unwell!”
“Is there some illness?!”
From the specially reserved royal seating, Herace abruptly rose to his feet. Rosalyn, too, wore a shocked expression.
“What in the world is happening?! The new Flower of the Empire, collapsing from frailty, broadcast live! Are we to suffer international humiliation over something like this now?!”
King Genoa’s furious outburst was an expected reaction. Devon, however, feigned sympathy, defending Ethan.
“Oh, dear. He must have been nervous. This is merely a minor incident, Father. Surely a sudden mishap due to illness or nervousness is a personal matter, not a failure in our preparations, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You…!!” Herace’s eyes blazed with fury. Meeting his gaze directly, Devon’s lips curled into a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk.
You’ve got to see this next! The Moon Reflected In The Water will keep you on the edge of your seat. Start reading today!
Read : The Moon Reflected In The Water
