For Ressas, Seiyad was someone who never wavered. Even when he was trapped in hell, he was the type to suppress his madness. As if born with innate elegance, Seiyad never revealed any side of himself that could be easily read—no matter the circumstances. Because of that, he was constantly surrounded by people who admired him yet didn’t dare get too close.
The idea of that Seiyad being drunk was so hard to imagine that Ressas followed Quilly almost in denial. At first, he’d been confused, but before long, the curiosity to see his lover drunk took hold. And if others had seen him like that already, then he needed to deal with them first—so he would be the only one to witness it.
“Has His Grace ever been like this before?”
“No, it’s my first time seeing it too. But considering what he drank tonight, I’m not surprised. Didn’t he go through two bottles of that potent moonshine? And before that, he had more than five bottles of Ice Wine. Drinking that moonshine on an empty stomach—it’d be stranger not to be drunk. Most people would pass out after two glasses of that stuff.”
The North was famous for its alcohol, especially its stronger varieties. Ice Wine, sweet and easy to drink, was strong enough to make a lightweight tipsy in just one glass. And the moonshine Quilly mentioned? Even seasoned drinkers had trouble finishing one bottle of that.
The mood had been so lively, and Seiyad had looked so genuinely happy that no one had thought to stop him. But listening to Quilly now, worry started creeping in. Others might see Seiyad as invincible and unshakable—but Ressas had seen the sides of him that weren’t. The fear that his lover might be in pain made Ressas break into a near-sprint through the castle.
When he finally reached the uppermost level of the main building where Seiyad and Cecilia lived, the scent of alcohol hit him the moment he entered the small drawing room the family had used for generations. Cecilia’s high-pitched laughter rang out, and the second he stepped inside, Ressas froze at the unexpected scene before him.
“Ah! Your Highness! Look! Isn’t my oppa so pretty?”
Cecilia, her cheeks flushed deep red from the alcohol, beamed as she welcomed him. With her arms flung open, she pointed proudly at Seiyad, who sat quietly beside her. Alarmed, Ressas immediately looked to Seiyad—but he seemed completely fine. His expression was blank as usual, and his pale skin radiated its usual cool aura. No obvious signs of intoxication. For a moment, Ressas wondered if Quilly had simply misread the situation.
“Cecilia, it’s time to go to bed now. It’s gotten really late. Eid, are you all right?”
As he approached, Ressas glanced around the room. Lyley lay asleep on the sofa, bundled in a soft blanket. Flames flickered gently in the fireplace, casting a warm, amber glow across the walls. The soft crackle of burning wood filled the cozy drawing room, making Ressas’ tension ease ever so slightly. Perhaps he had been too worried.
“Look, Your Highness. Look right here.”
Cecilia ignored his words and repeated herself, still pointing insistently at Seiyad. When Ressas finally followed her gaze, he saw several Ice Blossoms tucked into Seiyad’s hair, nestled just behind his ear. The pale blue petals, blended seamlessly into his silver strands, looked like they’d been dusted into snow. The sight left Ressas momentarily speechless.
He was beautiful. Who would’ve thought that a man and flowers could complement each other this perfectly?
“Gorgeous, right? His hair looked kind of plain, so I gave it a little decoration. Ah… maybe I was never meant to be a Tither. Maybe I was meant to be an artist. No matter how I look at it… ugh, a masterpiece…”
Cecilia trailed off, then suddenly bent over and began to gag. Quilly quickly stepped between her and Ressas, shielding her from view and offering an apologetic nod.
“Forgive us, Your Highness. I’ll look after the young lady. If it’s all right with you, perhaps you could take His Grace? I believe the two of you are sharing a room starting tonight. His quarters should be just one floor down. I’ll escort Prince Lyley back to his.”
“Quilly, don’t you think it’s really pretty? I must be gifted—I must have a talent for art.”
“With all due respect, my lady, art may not be your calling. If I take you to your room and show you those childhood portraits you drew, I believe it’ll clear your head immediately.”
With that, Quilly led Cecilia out of the drawing room. Thankfully, she didn’t protest. Despite having gotten drunk faster than anyone else, the fact that she’d made it this far without collapsing suggested she might’ve inherited her brother’s alcohol tolerance.
“Eid, so this is what you’ve been doing? Playing sweetly with your sister?”
With everyone finally gone, Ressas let out a breath of relief and stepped in front of Seiyad. Long lashes fluttered as Seiyad looked up at him. Sitting so still and well-behaved like a doll, the way he gazed up at him was almost too precious—so much so that Ressas’ chest ached from the rush of emotion. He couldn’t help himself; he cupped Seiyad’s cheek, and the other man quietly looked back at him. Then, slowly, as if genuinely confused, he asked:
“Your Highness… do you see the floor… flipping upside down too?”
“…What?”
“It’s been flipping over and over… since earlier…”
Seiyad mumbled, waving his hand vaguely at the air before suddenly grabbing hold of Ressas’ arm. His expression was serious as he whispered urgently:
“Please stop moving, Your Highness. If you don’t… I won’t be able to hold on to you.”
As he murmured, Seiyad got to his feet. He staggered so badly the chair tipped backward with a loud crash. Startled, Ressas instinctively caught him by the waist—and Seiyad immediately leaned in, burying his face in Ressas’ chest.
“You always run when things get difficult… so I’ll have to hold you tight.”
With those quiet words, Seiyad wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. His warm breath against Ressas’ chest sent his heart racing wildly, like it might burst. It felt like he’d just slammed down a bottle of moonshine himself—his whole body was on fire. He’d already been holding himself back all this time, resisting the urge to taste Seiyad—and now, even this small touch was enough to ignite the desire burning within him.
“Eid, do you think you can walk?”
“Of course. That’s a silly thing to ask.”
But despite his confident answer, Seiyad made no move to leave Ressas’ arms. Instead, he stayed nestled against his chest, breathing softly, his body slack with exhaustion. His half-lidded eyes and drowsy demeanor made it obvious just how close he was to sleep. Ressas had to suppress the inappropriate thoughts that briefly flickered in his mind. He didn’t want to prioritize his own desire over his lover’s comfort.
“Let’s go to bed, Eid. I’ll take you to your room.”
“No. I still have something to do before that…”
Seiyad grumbled like a sulky child. Ressas blinked down at the full-grown man throwing a half-hearted tantrum in his arms, momentarily stunned by just how absurdly adorable he looked. It might’ve been the most disarming thing he’d ever seen in his life. Determined to burn this moment into his memory, Ressas coaxed him gently, voice strained with barely suppressed affection.
“Then let’s do it there. In bed. Okay?”
“…All right.”
Seiyad gave a small nod and finally let go of the tension in his body. Whether from fatigue or sleepiness, he melted into Ressas’ arms with no resistance. Ressas quickly scooped him up and carried him out of the drawing room. Despite Seiyad’s tall frame and solid build, he felt weightless—his heart was pounding too fast with emotion for him to notice anything else.
He didn’t need Quilly’s directions to find the room. It wasn’t the duke’s formal study, but the bedroom Seiyad had used since childhood—a room Ressas had visited countless times. But he’d never stepped inside. He was always the one standing outside, waiting for Seiyad to come back.
His steps slowed as he reached the familiar door. For a moment, he hesitated. This space had always been just out of reach, always on the other side of the boundary. Was it really okay for him to enter now? But the warmth in his arms gave him the answer. With quiet resolve, he turned the handle and stepped inside.
The room, connected to a small study, was calm and spare—just like its owner. A bed, a table—nothing more. Not a trace of indulgence or excess. No decorations, save for a single portrait of Seiyad’s mother on the wall.
The moment he entered, a subtle scent of wood and snow drifted through the air. Ressas walked softly to the bed and gently laid Seiyad down. Then, almost ceremoniously, he knelt and began to unlace his boots. One by one, he slipped them off, then tenderly pulled a blanket over Seiyad’s body. He wanted to undress him further, to make him more comfortable—but he knew if he started, he might not be able to stop. With effort, he forced himself to let go of the urge.
Retreating a few steps, Ressas let his gaze wander. His fingers brushed over the worn post of the bed, where faint markings were etched—lines carved over the years, likely tracking Seiyad’s height as he grew. Mesmerized, Ressas traced the notches like sacred relics. Even so, he told himself he should return to his own room tonight. Seiyad had said they would start sleeping together from now on, but in his current state, he clearly needed rest more than anything else.
Even after making that decision, Ressas couldn’t bring himself to leave. He lingered by the bed, pacing softly, hesitating. Just one more glance. Just one goodnight kiss. He leaned in to place it gently when, suddenly, Seiyad pushed the blanket aside.
“Eid?”
Seiyad’s brow knit faintly, eyes still closed. With a slight grimace, he tugged at his shirt as if it were bothering him—then reached up and pulled it off entirely.
Ressas froze.
The pale, bare expanse of Seiyad’s chest gleamed under the moonlight pouring in through the window—smooth, toned, and impossibly inviting. The kind of body that begged to be kissed, bitten, tasted.
And that’s when his eyes landed there.
Soft pink nipples, barely touched by the cold air, standing out against that porcelain skin. And just like that, Ressas forgot how to breathe.
