“What kind of relationship do you think we had?”
Inas posed the question in a soft, composed voice. Normally, he was serious, overly calm, and the kind of man who prioritized orders above all else. But Nigel had always been the one exception to that rigid nature.
Having long since become that only exception, Nigel had seen many sides of Inas over the years… and this tone? This was the one he used when he wanted to tease someone. Not in a cruel way, but just enough to leave them flustered—it was playful, but precise.
In short, he had no intention of letting Nigel dodge the topic like nothing had happened.
Nigel, who flushed bright red in an instant, sat upright on the bed and glared at him.
“I asked you first.”
“I’m curious about your opinion, Nigel.”
“Answer me.”
“Is that a command?”
The way Inas asked that, as if Nigel was drawing a line between them, made him shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to wield authority to beat down someone he loved.
“No, it’s not that… It’s just—I saw something strange. And it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like something that really happened.”
“What exactly did you see…?”
Inas’s voice had dropped, oddly low. Nigel opened his eyes again. He looked… tense. What was he so worried about? Nigel gave a shaky, awkward smile and started to explain, hesitating over the words.
“You and I… we… kissed…”
“…Just kissed?”
The muttered response carried a distinct hint of exasperation. As if to say, That’s all? The reaction made Nigel’s ears burn. To him, it had been a huge event.
“There was… tongue, too. We… uh, you and I—”
“Nigel.”
The laughter in Inas’s voice cut him off. Thank god. If he’d kept going, it would’ve gotten way too humiliating.
Inas didn’t speak again right away. Instead, he slowly reached out and took Nigel’s hand in his own. Compared to Inas’s large, firm grasp, Nigel’s hand looked small and delicate. These were the same hands that wielded a sword for Nigel, that hunted monsters… and even, once, had killed him.
But now, they didn’t squeeze—just hovered gently, barely touching. The ambiguous closeness made Nigel tense up. He stared at Inas, nervous and silent.
Reflected in the deep black of Inas’s unreadable eyes was Nigel himself. His usually pale complexion was now flushed with color from the emotional turmoil. Nigel wasn’t the type to show many expressions, but in front of Inas, he always came undone. His nervousness was plain as day.
He lowered his gaze again, embarrassed. Somehow, it all felt… pitiful. Inas, who had lived far longer, was so polished and composed, while Nigel felt clumsy in comparison.
Right now, Nigel was anxious.
Afraid Inas would say it meant nothing. That he’d dismiss whatever they’d had in the past, or deflect the question with vagueness. And if he did… it would really, really hurt.
Nigel had loved Inas for as long as he could remember—from the age of twelve to now, at twenty-three. He’d been his one and only crush. More precious than even the ducal house itself. But that didn’t mean it was mutual. To Inas, things might’ve been entirely different.
“Nigel.”
“…What?”
“Did you know that heirs to noble houses usually receive sexual education from a young age?”
Instead of answering the earlier question, Inas lobbed an unexpected one at him.
Of course Nigel knew. He was a noble, after all. But for him, it had always been something he understood only in theory—something that had never touched his life. Despite being the sole heir to the Montstein family, Nigel had never once received any such education.
Quite the opposite—he’d been deliberately kept away from all things sexual. Ever since he was young, he’d been bombarded with warnings about disease, instability, and all the risks of reckless intimacy.
Growing up with those voices in his ears, Nigel had developed a deep aversion to anything sexual. The idea had been so thoroughly embedded that even when opportunities did arise, he instinctively kept his distance.
It wasn’t like he was completely ignorant, like some clueless ten-year-old—but he didn’t know the finer details. And that had never been an issue. He only had eyes for Inas, and he’d never expected that love to be reciprocated. He had no interest in doing anything with someone he didn’t care about. In fact, he thought it might be better for the duchy to pass on to a healthier relative than to risk him siring a sickly heir.
You’re too weak for that, his father had once told him. Nigel had believed him, never questioning the true reason behind the prohibition. He’d simply assumed his father was worried about his health.
With all those factors combined, Nigel had ended up rather naive when it came to sex. He’d even been ridiculed behind his back—called foolish or overly innocent for a man among men. Though most wouldn’t dare say it to his face, given how fastidious and prickly he was, he wasn’t blind to the whispers about the young, sickly duke who didn’t even keep a mistress.
Could it be that Inas was teasing him too?
His voice sharpened instinctively.
“I know. So what?”
“It was because of me that you weren’t given that education.”
“…What?”
“Because you loved me, Nigel. Your father feared that if you gained that kind of knowledge, you might ask me to sleep with you.”
“…”
Nigel couldn’t quite process what he’d just heard. His face, already red, flushed further and further until it looked like it might burst—then abruptly drained pale from the shock.
His father… knew?
And Inas… had known too?
He’d assumed, given Inas’s many loops, that his feelings had probably slipped out once or twice, but… not this. He’d never considered the possibility that his father had known all along. He’d thought he’d hidden it well. And his father had never said a word.
But then—starting around age fourteen, his father had constantly tried to pair him off with prospective marriage candidates. In a kingdom where engagements usually happened in the early twenties and marriages in the mid-twenties, that was absurdly early.
Nigel had hated it. Once, in protest, he’d gone on a hunger strike and nearly died after three days without food or water.
Even after that, his father would awkwardly bring up the benefits of marriage and introduce him to supposedly beautiful young ladies.
Had his father seriously believed that the moment Nigel gained sexual awareness, he’d run straight to Inas and beg to be held?
The more he thought about it, the more humiliated he felt. He buried his face in his hands. Inas just quietly watched him. And Nigel was grateful that he didn’t say anything—not even to ask if he was okay. He let out a shaky breath, rubbed his dry cheeks, and finally began to calm down.
“…Wait. My father didn’t… hurt you because of it, did he?”
The Montstein dukes, especially Ruder, were infamous for their ruthlessness. The Duke of Magnus wielded power second only to the king, and ruled over a vast, militarized domain. Their territory bordered Intusnica, a cursed land sealed by Glarus, where monsters poured out in waves.
Magnus territory regularly faced monster invasions—hordes of thousands spilling over the mountains every five years or so. Even in quieter times, the land remained perilous. And it was the Duke of Magnus’s duty to keep that danger from spreading to the rest of the continent. For generations, the dukes had fulfilled that obligation without fail.
Power like that came with a price. Lifetimes spent locked in a brutal, unwinnable war in the freezing north meant the dukes were rarely kind men.
And though Inas had inherited that burden in this generation, it didn’t change the weight he bore.
Nigel was already asking too much of him. The thought of adding more guilt… was unbearable.
But Inas’s expression didn’t waver.
“It’s fine. They were minor things.”
Nigel wasn’t so foolish as to let that slide.
“So… something did happen.”
“…Just a magical vow, that’s all.”
Magical vows were serious contracts—if broken, the consequences matched whatever punishment had been agreed upon at the start. They were typically used in formal negotiations, but more often by the powerful to enforce obedience from those below them.
From Nigel’s perspective, the idea of Ruder—his father—forcing such a vow on Inas was deeply unjust.
“What kind of vow?”
“I swore not to lay a hand on you. If I broke it… my genitals would rot off.”
“…WHAT?!”
Nigel’s eyes bulged in horror.
Was he saying that if their bodies so much as touched, that thing—the one Nigel had never even seen—would just… rot away?
He was so shocked, he started choking. As Nigel sputtered, Inas stepped closer and gently patted his back.
Still coughing, Nigel couldn’t help but glance between Inas’s legs.
So then… after he touched me… did that really happen?
Memories from earlier began to float through his mind. The blood. The bandages. Could that have been the reason?
The thought was too horrifying to finish.
His gaze drifted downward again before he realized it, and Inas let out a soft laugh.
“Nigel.”
“I-I didn’t mean to—that is…”
Had he been that obvious?
Face burning, Nigel didn’t have time to recover. Inas leaned in, wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested his forehead against Nigel’s.
The scent hit him immediately. A heavy, intoxicating cologne—not something a knight should wear, and yet, so perfectly Inas. Familiar, overwhelming. It made Nigel’s head spin.
Then Inas whispered in his ear.
“Want to test it?”
…Test what?
Before he could even ask, Inas kissed him.
