They had already sent the official notice stating their cooperation with the royal family, so it was time to begin preparations in earnest. Flowers had to be arranged in the eastern district, where the Esrante estate was located, and a security team needed to be organized to manage the area.
Banteon filled out the documents one line at a time as he selected suitable varieties for roadside trees and flower beds.
“Bante, are you done with the paperwork?”
Tearot walked into the study without knocking. His bright red head darted left and right, fidgeting busily.
“Guess you’ve forgotten how to knock.”
“No, I was planning to punch that bastard if he showed up again without warning.”
“You’d lose anyway.”
“Still, if I caught him off guard, I could probably land one hit.”
Banteon sighed at Tearot’s reckless words.
Tearot surveyed the study and its surroundings, wary of Delroz showing up again. After a thorough search, confirming it was just Banteon, he flopped down into the rocking chair in one corner of the lounge.
As he sat, Tearot’s hair flailed wildly. They’d clearly bought the rocking chair to sit comfortably, but it wasn’t meant to be abused like that.
Unaware of Banteon’s internal frustration, Tearot rocked the expensive Tesselwood chair hard enough to make it creak. After waiting a month for it to be delivered, it now received worse treatment than a mass-produced product.
This was why luxury items only held value when used by someone who understood them.
“If that breaks, your neck will go with it.”
“It won’t. I’m not that heavy, you know?”
“Don’t even start calling me shameless.”
“I’m pretty slim, okay? For an Esper, I’m on the lean side!”
That claim was flawed from the start. Even if Tearot was slimmer than the average Esper in the physique-based category, he’d still be at least 20% heavier than Banteon. So much so that the waiting rooms for Espers were furnished with much larger, sturdier furniture than what regular adults used.
Banteon cast a displeased glance at Tearot’s thick frame. Granted, he was smaller than other A-rank physique-types. Compared to the rest of the bunch…
Delroz came to mind without warning. Towering and jet-black, Delroz had a large build but still gave off a lithe impression. His shoulders and chest were definitely broader than Tearot’s, but thanks to his distinct sharp aura, he didn’t come across as bulky or sluggish.
Click.
Banteon clicked his tongue quietly at the intrusive thoughts of Delroz again. He’d assumed he’d feel better once the man was out of sight, but oddly enough, he found it bothersome. Delroz kept popping into his head, disrupting his thoughts. He’d even canceled their guiding schedule, something entirely out of character.
“There’s still some work left. Wait a bit.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t mind me.”
How could anyone not mind someone acting like that? Banteon turned his eyes back to the documents he was working on. The soft scratching of his pen across paper filled the study. Pages flipped, a calculator clacked—it went on for a while. Maybe he was self-conscious about Banteon’s earlier scolding, because Tearot sat perfectly still like a mannequin, eyes shut tight.
But the silence didn’t last long. After a brief moment of only breath and quiet, Tearot opened his eyes.
“Is this what the calm before the storm feels like?”
“Don’t say ominous crap.”
“I mean it. Why is it so quiet? Even though we’re preparing for a festival, it just doesn’t feel exciting…”
Tearot had an annoyingly sharp intuition. Banteon glanced out the window. Far in the distance, beyond the massive glass, he could see the capital’s encircling stone walls. Normally, temporary tents would be spread around the area to accommodate newcomers to the capital.
Even if they weren’t visible to Banteon, some Espers enjoyed watching from afar and gossiping. Despite the festival approaching, as Tearot pointed out, the atmosphere just didn’t feel festive.
Maybe it was because of the recent disaster at the regional festival. A strange sense of unease lingered.
“Even that bastard Delroz has been quiet. And sure, that should be a good thing, but when someone that noisy suddenly vanishes, it just makes you more anxious.”
Tearot sunk deeper into the chair, echoing Banteon’s exact thoughts from earlier. One of the overstuffed cushions sagged under the weight. He’d have to replace it soon.
“Bante. How long are you gonna work? Come here.”
“If you’re bored, go home.”
“Tch.”
Tearot sulked when his whining didn’t work and dragged himself from the rocking chair to the nearby sofa, where he sprawled out. After goofing off on the rocker, now he was completely lying down. He showed no signs of leaving the study. He’d always been a nuisance, but ever since returning from his recent dispatch, it had gotten worse.
At first, he’d clung on with the excuse of keeping an eye on Delroz, but even after their guiding sessions were delayed and they no longer ran into each other, Tearot still wouldn’t leave him alone. Banteon thought he’d gotten used to Tearot’s clinginess, but lately it had started to feel especially suffocating.
He approached Tearot, casting a disapproving look at the man who had claimed the entire sofa. A white stain had formed on the clean leather—dust, maybe? He was definitely going to kick him off.
“Oh, Bante! You’re finally coming to play with me?”
Tearot’s eyes sparkled as Banteon drew near, completely oblivious to his mood. Arms spread wide in a welcoming gesture. That oversized oaf acting like a child again made Banteon frown as he lifted his foot.
Since it wouldn’t hurt him anyway, Banteon had intended to kick Tearot in the chest. But just as he lifted his foot, Tearot grabbed his ankle. Before he could even make a sound of protest, his knee was pulled in, and Banteon’s body was effortlessly hoisted and seated on Tearot’s stomach.
“….”
What even was this? A grown adult sitting on another man’s stomach—Banteon was so dumbfounded he couldn’t even speak. The abdomen was supposed to be a vulnerable spot, yet Tearot didn’t seem remotely uncomfortable. Instead, he grinned up at Banteon as if this were all perfectly normal.
Each time he laughed, the stomach beneath Banteon’s backside jiggled.
“What the hell are you doing now?”
“So what? We used to mess around on the couch all the time.”
The “past” Tearot referred to was when they were both just ten years old—long before either of them had manifested their abilities. Back then, they’d race across sofas and roll around until they got scolded.
“You used to be a lot more lively. You even threw your shoes at me just to catch me.”
Tearot spoke like he was reminiscing about some fond childhood memory. His tone made it sound like they’d shared happy times. But if Banteon recalled correctly, he’d thrown that shoe in a rage, trying to kill Tearot for whatever mess he’d caused.
“Do you even remember why you got hit with that shoe?”
“Hahaha. Weird—I just can’t seem to remember that part.”
Tearot, who had caused about 90% of Banteon’s childhood tantrums, laughed shamelessly.
Banteon almost started defending himself, about to claim he’d always been the more composed one as a kid. But he swallowed the words. If Tearot were someone who listened, he wouldn’t be saying such nonsense in the first place. This wasn’t the first time Tearot was talking nonsense, and Banteon no longer had the energy to get dragged into it like when they were kids.
He answered flatly, voice dry.
“Do you think things are still the same now?”
“They’re not. Back then we used to play in the creek, sleep in the same bed…”
“You’re the one who barged in.”
Tearot was the one who dragged him down to the creek in the middle of training, and also the one who burrowed into his bed whining that he couldn’t sleep.
Now, Banteon would never tolerate such antics. But back then, not long after losing his parents, he’d let his guard down and played along.
Maybe Tearot had been trying to cheer him up by being extra mischievous after the back-to-back funerals of Banteon’s parents. Banteon had once felt a small sense of gratitude for that… but now, he knew better.
Tearot had always been like this.
“When are you ever going to grow up?”
“If I grow any more, it’ll be a problem. My feet already hang off the bed.”
“I don’t mean your height—I mean your brain.”
Banteon jabbed Tearot’s forehead repeatedly with his finger, but the man didn’t resist. His head bobbed around, red hair flying everywhere, yet his face remained lit up with delight.
There was no point. No matter how much he scolded him, it had no effect. Dealing seriously with someone like this only wore him out.
As Banteon tried to get down from his lap, Tearot’s hands stayed firmly around his waist. Banteon smacked the back of his hand with a sharp slap.
“Are you going to use force now?”
Banteon hated it when Espers threw their weight around, literally or figuratively. Even though the inferiority complex of having once failed to manifest had long been buried, the feelings from back then had left lingering traces in his heart.
Tearot knew this better than anyone, and with a regretful look, finally let go of his waist.
“What’s with you lately? You’ve been acting weird.”
Doing things he’d never done before, one after another. As Banteon gave him a suspicious look, Tearot just shrugged and stood. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to back off—until he suddenly reached out and grabbed Banteon’s ungloved hand.
“…!”
“Isn’t it strange? Even touching you like this is hard now.”
Tearot’s grip was tight, and he didn’t let go. The sensation of bare skin against skin sent a chill racing from Banteon’s fingers up to his shoulder. Ever since both of them had manifested, they’d never touched this directly for so long.
In the kingdom, guiding between blood relatives was strictly forbidden. Even family members who had spent a lifetime together were redefined the moment one became an Esper and the other a Guide.
For a Guide and Esper related by blood to touch bare skin was an utterly unacceptable act. It was a long-standing law engraved into their minds like instinct. Even without anyone enforcing it, everyone followed it as if it were natural—from birth, it simply was.
And yet, Tearot questioned that “natural” law.
Nooo I liked Tearot please don’t be a creep