Chapter 48: Moonlit Bonds and Hidden Chains

Owen went down the stairs first. Remembering that the end of them led to the emperor’s official bedchamber, Fria followed after him uncertainly, wondering if he was really being let out already.

When Owen reached the landing halfway down, he stopped. Turning at the bend in the staircase, he waited for Fria to come the rest of the way down.

There was no way a man with that temperament was trying to escort him, so what was this about? The moment Fria reached the landing and looked at him, Owen stepped back and pressed against the wall behind him.

Without a sound, the wall rotated open, revealing a hidden corridor.

Without another word, Owen started walking through it, and Fria followed.

First possibility: a torture chamber.
Second possibility: an underground prison.
Third possibility: exile.

Growing increasingly anxious as he imagined every possible outcome, Fria glanced around nervously. Lamps placed at regular intervals kept the long corridor from falling into darkness.

When Owen reached the dead end first, he pushed on the wall before him once more. Beyond it appeared a door connected to the outside. Waiting for Fria to cross over, Owen twisted the long handle and opened it.

Cool night air poured in.

****

A brilliant moon hung over the silent forest.

The destination they had finally arrived at was the emperor’s private garden.

Evergreen trees planted densely to block intruders had grown to seven feet tall, forming an impregnable fortress. Only a select few were ever allowed to see the emperor’s private garden. Even Owen himself had only been permitted to enter after ascending the throne.

Unlike the grand garden before the main palace, which existed to impress visitors, this private garden was smaller, but made solely for one person, the emperor. Deep within it stood a glass greenhouse where flowers bloomed all year round.

Dedicated gardeners constantly fed the braziers to maintain the perfect temperature. Thanks to that, rare flowers and trees brought from foreign lands preserved their natural beauty and flourished proudly.

Watching Fria gaze around in admiration, Owen spoke.

“This is my private garden. As long as you don’t cause a disturbance, you may come and go as you please.”

“Really?”

Fria asked excitedly, unable to believe he had been brought to a garden instead of the torture chamber he had feared.

“Tea time will be at three in the afternoon. Reading after dinner. Walks after the moon rises. Use the rest of your time however you like.”

Tea at three, reading in the evening, walks at night.

Repeating the rules Owen laid out in his head, Fria suddenly remembered something.

“What did you do when you met with Byron?”

He had met Byron at the library. They had gone on walks, drank tea, and read books together.

Everything he had done with the emperor today perfectly matched what he used to do with Byron.

‘Don’t tell me the emperor… Does the emperor want to be friends with me?’

Friendship that couldn’t be shared with Byron, nor with any other woman. What kind of grand friendship was this supposed to be, locking him up only to occasionally let him roam the front yard?

No, this was clearly an attempt to isolate him so he could be monitored and controlled more easily.

Having arrived at his conclusion, Fria looked at Owen with wary eyes.

What was he thinking now? He looked dissatisfied again.

Owen’s gaze lingered on Fria’s slightly upturned eyes before drifting toward the blond hair swaying in the breeze. Moonlight settled upon every fine strand.

A stronger gust sent the robe fluttering open, revealing flashes of pale skin beneath the thin nightclothes. Under the fabric billowing with the wind, white calves and slender ankles appeared and vanished.

Owen stepped closer and reached toward him. Catching the fluttering robe, he wrapped it closed around Fria before turning his back and walking on.

They walked for a long while along the path between rows of fir trees. Instead of conversation, the cries of night birds occasionally broke the silence.

“Gir, do you know the meaning of this flower? “I wish to meet you even in dreams.” It suits my feelings for you perfectly.”

“Gir, do you know the myth of the laurel tree? A woman fleeing Apollo’s courtship transformed into this tree and became a symbol of eternal victory. The moral of the story is this: since you might get cursed into becoming a tree, it’s best to just accept the confession.”

Unlike Byron, who would stop every few steps to joke around whenever he saw flowers or trees, the emperor remained silent.

The sound of water pouring from the flute of a bronze boy statue, birdsong, and the chirping of insects filled the spaces between them.

Clothed in black, even Owen’s hair and eyes were dark enough that whenever shadows from the trees fell over him, he seemed to vanish into the curtain of night before reappearing again under the moonlight.

What was he thinking?

Fria had always felt helpless and afraid. Why me? What are you going to do with me? What waits at the end of this path we walk together?

He had always thought there was no point trying to understand the emperor’s true feelings. Even if he did understand, nothing would change.

Still, he found himself just a little more curious than before.

The night air was refreshing, and the scent of flowers carried on the breeze was unbearably sweet.

Fria realized then that sometimes a silent walk could feel kinder than conversation.

****

‘Wait, there was a bathroom here?’

A door he had assumed was merely a mirror swung open to reveal a bath chamber. Fria stared in confusion, and Owen opened yet another bath chamber connected to the inner room to show him.

One attached to the bedroom, another to the sitting room.

There were two of them.

Fria nearly laughed at himself for having been grateful merely that there was a toilet. He had even planned to ask permission to visit the massive communal bathhouse the maids had dragged him to before. Never had it occurred to him that he simply hadn’t found the entrance.

“Then, Your Majesty uses that one…”

Since there were two baths, naturally each of them would use one.

That was what Fria thought, right until Owen shoved him forward into the room.

Already stripping off his clothes, Owen sank into the steaming bath.

Why together?

Seeing the question plainly written across Fria’s face, Owen explained calmly.

“The chamberlain is old. Preparing bathwater twice is difficult for him.”

Ah. That explained it.

An explanation impossible to argue against.

Giving up, Fria entered the bath fully clothed in his thin sleeping robe and settled into the water with Owen.

Owen couldn’t understand why Fria insisted so stubbornly on covering himself when they had already seen each other naked countless times. In the emperor’s life, having attendants help him dress, undress, and bathe was perfectly ordinary.

Normally, he used the large bath connected to the official bedchamber with servants attending him, but today he had intentionally ordered the chamberlain to prepare the bath in the inner chambers instead.

The water was hot enough to melt away exhaustion. Medicinal herbs floated on the surface, licorice, mint, fennel grass, and chamomile flowers.

Trying not to look at Owen’s naked body, Fria kept his head lowered when he heard fingers tapping against the edge of the tub. Looking up, he saw Owen gesture toward the soap, sponge, bath brush, oils, and linen cloth laid out nearby.

Not understanding, Fria looked blankly at him. Owen simply stared back.

‘Ah…’

Realization finally struck.

Usually he tried to manage on his own, but after the emperor visited him, he often became too exhausted to wash himself and had to rely on the older maids.

Whenever he insisted he could do it himself, the women overpowered him instantly with the air of people thinking, ‘What a strange concubine,’ and carried out their duties anyway.

Just as it was natural for a concubine to be attended by maids, the emperor naturally expected servants to help with his daily routines.

So that look. That gesture.

‘You want me to wash you?’

Maybe he wasn’t a friend after all. For a moment Fria had foolishly hoped he’d been promoted from prisoner to friend, but looking at the situation now, his current position seemed closer to captive servant.

If ordered, he had no choice but to obey.

Fria reached for the soap. Wetting the sponge and rubbing it against the bar quickly produced thick foam. Holding the lathered sponge, he stretched his arm as far as possible and pressed it awkwardly against the emperor’s shoulder.

Bubbles slid down over firm muscle.

The sponge slowly traveled across both collarbones before moving downward. Thanks to the slippery foam, Fria’s hand slipped and brushed against Owen’s solid chest.

Startled, Fria jerked backward.

The sponge splashed into the bathwater.

Catching the drifting sponge, Owen seized Fria’s hand and placed it back into his palm. Soapy water trickled between their fingers.

The night robe had already been thin enough to reveal skin while dry. Now soaked through, it clung to Fria like transparent insect wings. Flesh flushed pale pink from the heat showed clearly beneath the fabric.

“Your hands stopped.”

Extending his fingers, Owen pressed against the sponge, squeezing out even thicker foam between the holes.

Fria’s hands resumed moving.

After several strokes cleaned the broad back, the sponge drifted away over the water. Foam-covered fingers now slid through black hair instead.

Owen, surrendering himself to Fria’s touch, opened his eyes.

Kneeling on the floor of the bath, Fria stretched out his arms to wash the emperor’s hair. Concentrating hard, he left his lips slightly parted, sweet breaths slipping through them.

When Owen picked up a bottle of oil, Fria tensed, only to relax again when the scent of lavender spread through the bathwater.

A long shadow fell across Fria’s face as he closed his eyes.

Holding a bath brush, Owen began combing through Fria’s hair.

“When I was young, I raised a hunting dog with long fur. After walks, I always washed and brushed it myself.”

‘I see.’

Relaxing beneath the pleasant touch, Fria suddenly froze as realization hit him.

‘So after walks, you did what exactly?’

He wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t even a captive servant.

His current status was apparently equal to that of a dog.

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