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Join the ServerHae-min shifted unconsciously. Something, he didn’t know what, but something, was missing. Even as he struggled to contain the overwhelming presence inside him, he found himself craving more.
“Ah-!”
At that moment, it struck deep within him. A powerful sensation surged through his entire body. Only then did Hae-min realize what he had been wanting, and he was horrified.
To feel this. With this man. In this situation.
“No… I don’t, I don’t want-”
“You don’t?”
Song Seol seized Hae-min’s length without hesitation. His large hand moved without restraint, stroking, gripping, sliding. The sensations threatened to shatter Hae-min’s composure. Shaking his head, he pleaded.
“No… my lord, please… please stop…”
“And yet you move like you enjoy it.”
“No, I-I don’t.”
“Then admit it.”
Song Seol tightened his grip. The fragile balance between discomfort and pleasure snapped instantly toward pain. A broken sound escaped Hae-min’s lips.
“The proof is right here. How can you deny it? You…”
He clenched his teeth, voice low and dark.
“…like being by my side.”
The grip around him loosened, though Song Seol did not fully let go. As if shifting tactics, his touch softened, becoming almost coaxing.
“…ah-”
The light brushing of his fingertips was almost teasing. For Hae-min, it was even harder to endure than before.
“Ah-!”
When Song Seol’s thumb brushed over the tip, Hae-min’s body gave in. He trembled, overwhelmed, unable to stop himself.
“My lord… please, let me go…”
“I told you not to call me that.”
A sharp motion drew a gasp from him, and Hae-min hurriedly corrected himself.
“S-… husband…”
“Hmm.”
Even then, Song Seol didn’t seem entirely satisfied.
“Call my name.”
“…Husband.”
“Not that. Like before… say my name.”
“…Song Seol…”
His voice faded as he spoke, cautious, watching for any sign of displeasure. But Song Seol murmured in approval.
“That’s right. There’s no need for formality between spouses.”
“…”
“We’ll hold the wedding soon.”
Though his voice was gentle, his actions did not pause. The relentless rhythm left Hae-min dazed, his thoughts scattering.
“We’ll bow to each other… and share the ceremonial wine, Hee-yul.”
The heavy presence in the air tightened around him. Between the overwhelming sensations and the ache in his chest, Hae-min finally spoke.
“I called your name… so why won’t you call mine?”
Tears slipped from his lashes, trailing down his cheeks.
“…Moon Hee-yul.”
“…I don’t want that…”
“You are Hee-yul. And you will remain so.”
There was no room for negotiation.
Hae-min could only sob quietly. Was he meant to live like this forever? Everything felt too heavy to bear. The future was bleak, and he couldn’t even endure the present.
Yet even as his heart resisted, his body betrayed him, responding against his will.
“Ah- please… stop…”
Song Seol did not stop.
****
The days dragged on heavily.
Each morning, Hae-min woke with despair. Each night, he fell asleep with tear-stained pillows. There were moments he wanted to let go entirely, but he forced himself to endure.
He had to survive. Only then could he see his child again.
Clinging to that hope alone, Hae-min tried everything.
“Husband… thank you for sparing me. Call me Hae-min or Hee-yul, whichever you prefer.”
He attempted clumsy affection.
“…Could you let me see the child?”
He pleaded cautiously.
“How can you be so indifferent?”
At times, he even resented him.
Yet none of it moved Song Seol in the slightest.
No matter how much he begged to see the child, the answer remained the same: “The child is well.”
He wasn’t even allowed to leave the room. Hae-min couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the sky.
The room felt cut off from the seasons—neither winter nor anything else. A place outside time, where he slowly sank deeper and deeper.
And then, one day…
A messenger from the capital arrived.
****
Hae-min ate in silence.
“…”
Across from him sat Song Seol, watching.
Officially, it was to look after his meals. In truth, it felt like surveillance. If he stopped eating, a cold reprimand would follow.
Still, Hae-min didn’t dare upset him. If he did, he might never see his child again.
So he obeyed quietly.
“You should eat the ribs too.”
“…Yes.”
He picked up a piece and placed it over his rice. He couldn’t taste anything, it all felt like sand, but that didn’t matter.
He had to comply.
By the time he finished, Song Seol spoke again.
“Drink your tea.”
“…Yes.”
A servant brought it in. Song Seol poured it himself and handed it over.
“Here.”
“Thank you…”
Hae-min accepted it with both hands. The scent suggested ginseng tea. The cup, however, was wooden.
Since the day he had cut his finger on broken porcelain, all fragile objects had been removed. Even the utensils were wooden now.
Was it care… or excess?
It didn’t matter.
“You should drink it while it’s warm.”
“Yes.”
Hae-min raised the cup and drank. The bitter taste spread across his tongue, followed by a faint sweetness.
Song Seol watched him closely.
Unable to bear the gaze, Hae-min closed his eyes as if savoring the tea.
“I’ve finished.”
“Have another cup.”
“…”
Silently, he held the cup out again.
The room filled with the mingling scents of plum blossoms and ginseng.
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