Assad tapped the paper in his hand with an expression as crooked as his posture. He stared intently at the portrait drawn on the crumpled surface. It was more of a glare.
A pretty man with delicate features like a work of art. A face that made him feel unpleasant just by looking at it, a face he truly despised.
The man’s name was Alex Cooper. The eldest son of Count Servman, a nobleman of Elba. He was the same age as Cayden.
The vast plantation where his bride had been bound for a long time belonged to Count Servman, this man’s father. But the Count wasn’t the actual manager of the plantation. He had completely entrusted the management to Alex as soon as he became an adult.
Cayden had run away from this man. Assad was certain of it.
His bride was a timid person who couldn’t say an unkind word to others. He was also disgustingly innocent. While building walls around himself to keep people out, he often saw others’ intentions only in a positive light, to the point of seeming ignorant of the ways of the world.
What person could make such a Cayden run away in panic? Who else but this man, Alex Cooper?
“Finally seeing that face.”
Assad carefully recalled the brief stories he had heard from Cayden through Amun’s appearance. Each one was absurd and preposterous.
“He said he shot and killed the dog that person loved…”
It wasn’t that he took up a gun because the dogs might cause trouble while wandering around the plantation. Knowing that Cayden was fond of that dog, he must have committed such an act with the purpose of hurting Cayden’s feelings.
When Cayden brought up that story, hiding Princess Mat’s dogs behind him and watching Amun’s reaction, Assad had truly felt bad. It was because he could sense the malice of this “young master” whose face he didn’t even know.
It must have been this bastard who pointed at the scar on one side of Cayden’s face and chipped away at his self-esteem. It must have been this bastard who brainwashed him into believing he was ugly, and Assad was certain it was also this bastard who had inflicted persistent wounds on various parts of his bride’s skin.
What made it worse…
‘He was an alpha.’
The fact that this trash was an alpha.
That he tormented someone with a different trait so wretchedly and violently that a grown man, terrified, had to flee and hide his body in an empty tent. It was disgusting.
He felt annoyed that he hadn’t looked into this man with the unpleasant face earlier. He could feel his head boiling. All he had known was that Cayden had worked under Count Servman’s couple and their son for a long time.
…But he hadn’t even thought to look into it, claiming he wasn’t interested in his bride’s affairs.
But now the situation had changed. Assad wanted to know about the unjust things his bride had experienced.
Assad wanted to know about Cayden’s fears and who had created those fears. So, he decided to find out everything about that character-deficient man and the Count’s family.
He also intended to get his hands on the isolated plantation in the northern outskirts, which was said to be difficult to enter unless one was involved. The portrait that accurately captured that unpleasant face and the simple story attached below it were not enough.
Men with many dirty secrets live with their lives staked on hiding them. They had to be adept at silencing others.
The guy named Alex would be the same. Even if one were to enter under him, there wouldn’t be much to find out. So, the only option was to make the safe that hid the secret his own.
After getting it in his hands, he could break it and shake out what was inside. The actions of those trash who bought orphans at cheap prices to erase debts and exploit labor, and the other trash they produced, were predictable without even seeing them, so it would also be good to make a righteous accusation while he was at it.
But… why? Why should I know about the story, the injustice, of a bride who would leave someday?
‘What will you do after finding out?’
Assad sighed, bending his head and ruffling his hair. Whether his irritation had turned into heat or what, his body was hot. Hot breath flowed between his lips. His face wrinkled as if standing under the midday sun.
“Why, me.”
Assad muttered once more the question that had risen in one corner of his mind.
Suddenly, he recalled the plain face of his bride, crouched in the darkness. The man who had been sweating cold sweat like tears had been pale as if about to die.
But the moment he saw Amun, the fear that had frosted over his pupils crumbled. What filled the place where fear had subsided was a relief that felt somewhat pitiful.
All he had done was find the man hiding in the tent. At most, that was it.
But Cayden had looked at him as if he had encountered a great hero. As if he had met a being imbued with a very strong, sacred, noble light.
The fear that dominated his bride and the shabby relief still bothered Assad. A restlessness that he couldn’t understand persistently sought him out.
Did he want to become something like a knight for Cayden, to punish evil? It was an embarrassingly matched heroic act.
“…But it’s right that those who did bad things should be punished.”
Assad muttered and let go of the document he was holding. The paper with crumpled corners immediately fell to the floor.
Assad decided to erase all the questions and doubts he had had earlier. Then a very simple conclusion emerged.
“How dare they touch my partner.”
Assad resolved to crush those who had tormented Cayden, those who might torment that person, so they could never do such things again.
There was no need for justification in cleaning up the vermin that soiled the morality of the kingdom territory of Elba, owned by the empire. Did cleaning need a grand reason? You remove and wipe away what’s dirty because it’s offensive to the eye.
Exhaling breath that had become hotter than before, Assad leaned his body completely against the sofa’s backrest.
The heat that had suddenly risen was bothersome. It seemed it would be good to just sit still like this and hold Cayden’s cold hand.
“Hand…”
Assad muttered that short word. It was accompanied by a laugh that felt somehow empty.
He recalled the strange dream that had visited him last night. It was a dream featuring a hand he knew well.
In the dream, Assad grasped the hand of the man standing before him. A white hand bearing old scars, with a thin-lined ring fitted on the long, straight fourth finger.
Bending his head, Assad briefly kissed the back of the man’s hand that he had lifted, on top of the ring. He repeatedly kissed the scars haphazardly engraved on it. From the firmly grasped wrist to the fingertips. He pressed his lips to every scar he knew.
Each time Assad kissed, the old scars engraved on the hand disappeared one by one. They vanished, emitting a light whiter than the white hand.
It was a ridiculous dream. But it was truly a pleasant dream.
Holding the hand that had become free of any scars, Assad raised his gaze toward the man hidden behind the shadow.
The darkness that had covered the face of the person he knew well lifted, as if a lie.
“Cayden.”
The bride in the dream had a face that looked somewhat sad. Disliking that sight, Assad hastily informed Cayden that his scars had disappeared. He showed him the cleaned white hand.
Cayden didn’t say anything. Instead, Cayden smiled. And he embraced Assad first.
Embracing such a Cayden in return, Assad woke from the dream.
It was a strange and creepy dream where he kissed various parts of someone else’s hand like a pervert. The more he recalled it, the more embarrassing and awkward it felt.
Dreams and reality were different. No healing magic could remove old scars.
Burn scars were the same. Unless one received treatment from a capable healing magician right away, at best, one could only make the color of the scar lighter.
Scars. Perhaps he had that strange dream because those indelible scars troubled his mind. He had dreamed a childish dream wishing that scars would disappear with just a kiss.
But even while considering it a strange dream, he involuntarily recalled amusing thoughts inside. His heated head kept leading his thoughts in strange directions.
‘When I meet Cayden… I should check his hand.’
It was a day with lessons. He had to visit Cayden in Amun’s form. Well, even as Amun, he could hold hands, so it was fine. Even if he couldn’t kiss it, he could at least look at it.
He wanted to tell him that offering one’s hand should only be allowed to one’s partner, but he didn’t want to say it because it felt good and cool to hold that person’s hand. He thought it would be fine since both Assad and Amun were the same person at their core.
Seeing his bride who never suspected Amun might be a filthy man with a dark core, and who only smiled foolishly while having his hand held, it seemed he too didn’t dislike holding hands with others.
‘Even if it’s the same hand-holding… he doesn’t smile much in front of this appearance.’
With a face that had become more sullen than before, Assad raised his head.
“What is it that I want to do?”
Looking at the pure white ceiling without a speck of dust, Assad muttered.
Assad had stepped forward on behalf of his mother and father, who seemed content with the oracle, and the imperial family who were silent for some reason. He had tried to do something to part with his bride. Even by changing his appearance.
First, he wanted to understand what kind of person the man that God had brought before him as if playing a prank was. He tried to gain his trust. He wanted to discover Cayden’s true hidden feelings and, if possible, find his weaknesses.
To proceed to negotiations for a peaceful farewell, ultimately… to pull Cayden down from the position of Crown Prince’s consort. That was Assad’s and Amun’s purpose.
But things started to take a strange turn.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
