Chapter 28
After finally managing to shove Dojin into the bedchamber, Doha hastily stripped off his clothes. Dawn was breaking, sunlight spilling through the window. Soon, the court ladies would arrive for their morning greetings.
He threw a top over Dojin’s half-naked body, but his hands trembled with urgency, and the knots refused to tie properly. Frustrated, Doha plopped down onto Dojin’s legs.
“Ugh, why won’t this work?!”
Every time he tried to tie a knot, his body jostled, and Dojin’s lower region—already stirred by the morning—grew even more prominent.
“Ah, got one!”
He finally managed the lowest of the six knots. At that moment, the sudden stimulation jolted Dojin awake. His eyes flew open.
“Uh…”
Warm sunlight bathed their bodies. Doha’s pale face, illuminated by the dawn, looked even smoother. His skin seemed soft enough to touch. Dojin, still half-asleep, found himself imagining what it would be like to wake up together every morning.
Their eyes met. Doha’s face was flushed with panic. To anyone, this would look like a compromising situation. He was straddling Dojin’s legs, shifting his hips as he fiddled with the knots. Dojin couldn’t tell if he was tying or untying them.
Doha’s lips parted, searching for an excuse, just as the door burst open behind Dojin. Court Lady Kim stood there, frozen.
“Last night, did you rest—”
“…”
“M-Ma… Ma?”
We’re doomed. Doha’s trembling eyes met Court Lady Kim’s. Beneath him, Dojin’s lower region continued to grow, oblivious to the situation.
***
“Noble Consort… What in the world…!”
Court Lady Kim stared at Doha, her face a mask of shock. She’d come early, worried after Doha’s lonely request for alcohol the night before.
To witness her lord’s private affairs at dawn… Her mind reeled, and she felt faint.
“It’s not what it looks like!”
“Eek!”
Doha reached out toward Court Lady Kim, who looked ready to collapse. The movement jostled Dojin, who let out an involuntary groan.
The sound, thick with arousal, silenced everyone. Court Lady Kim and Doha locked eyes, both pressing their lips tightly shut. After a tense standoff, Court Lady Kim spoke first.
“Adultery is unforgivable!”
“W-What? Adultery?!”
“Noble Consort, no matter if His Majesty visited your chambers, the palace has rules and decorum! How could you commit such an act?!”
“I-I didn’t commit adultery! I never touched Ungeom, I—”
Doha trailed off, glancing at Dojin. His hands were still tangled in the knots of Dojin’s top, as if unraveling them. No excuse would work now.
“…I’m fine.”
Dojin, expressionless, wrapped an arm around Doha’s waist. His face betrayed nothing.
“Ungeom?”
“Just endure it a little longer.”
Dojin lifted Doha effortlessly, hiding his aroused state beneath the top. Confirming his lower region was concealed, he began retying the undone knots.
“This trivial clothing… It’s fine even if it’s torn off.”
That makes it sound even worse, you lunatic! Doha struggled to pull his hand free, but Dojin’s grip was ironclad.
‘If I show him my palm, it’s over.’
Doha gritted his teeth, desperately guarding his hand. The strain made his wound reopen, blood seeping through the bandage. Only then did Dojin release him.
“Noble Consort! Blood on the bandage… I’ll call the royal physician!”
Court Lady Kim flapped her hands, ready to rush out. Doha waved her off.
“Enough. Stop making a fuss.”
Pretending nothing was wrong, he rebound the bandage and glanced at Dojin. Dojin stood frozen, lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the floor.
‘A shard of a wine cup couldn’t have made a wound that deep. For blood to pool like that, the shard would have to be at least half a pun in size.’
Half a pun. That was the exact size of the wound the assassin had last night. Dojin flexed his palm, recalling the feel of the hand he’d grabbed—the soft, almost delicate touch, more like the inside of a thigh than a warrior’s hand.
At that moment, the memory of the assassin’s hand flashed in his mind—soft, long fingers, not a single callus. A small hand that fit perfectly in his own. It was a hand he knew well.
‘No way…!’
The assassin’s swordsmanship was unlike anything he’d seen. He’d trained with every master in the land, yet this technique was entirely foreign—nothing like any manual he’d studied. The idea that Doha, of all people, could wield such skill was absurd.
The fluttering black cloth, the eyes gleaming in the moonlight, the lips barely visible beneath the mask—last night’s scene replayed in his mind.
‘Could the master of that incredible swordsmanship really be the Noble Consort…?’
Dojin’s eyes widened. The assassin’s body had been too small, too delicate—nothing like a battle-hardened warrior. There was no way the pampered, greenhouse-raised Noble Consort could possess such skill.
Unaware of Dojin’s suspicious gaze, Doha returned to the bedchamber and removed his outer robe. The white silk slid to the floor. He began untying his top, glancing down at Dojin.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch?”
Doha traced a circle with his fingertip, adjusting the knot. The motion reminded Dojin of that morning. In the silence, Dojin wavered between reason—he shouldn’t be looking at his lord like this—and instinct—he wanted to stay.
“My duty is to guard the Noble Consort’s chambers.”
Instinct won. Dojin stood rigid, his gaze locked on Doha’s body. Every inch of him burned under Dojin’s stare. Pretending not to notice, Doha secretly sighed.
***
They were on their way to Jijeongjeon. Dojin, summoned by Hyunseo, followed behind him. The scent of the Noble Consort clung to Hyunseo. Dojin’s brow furrowed.
‘So he really did spend the night with the Noble Consort.’
The intensity of the scent left no doubt. It was as if the Noble Consort had marked every inch of him. The overpowering fragrance made Dojin feel suffocated. The more he smelled it, the more he thought of Doha’s faint, sweet scent—neither cloying nor sharp.
The memory of last night’s assassin, who carried the same scent, deepened his confusion. Should he report the intrusion? And if so, how much should he reveal?
“Ungeom.”
Lost in thought, Dojin blinked as Hyunseo stopped ahead of him. He turned, quickly bowing his head in respect.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Was there anything unusual while guarding the palace?”
Images of the unknown assassin’s unprecedented swordsmanship flashed through Dojin’s mind. He’d been drunk, lost to the assassin, and woken up to find His Majesty’s consort straddling him, hips moving. And that assassin had declared himself the Noble Consort’s fourth husband.
“…The Noble Consort slept peacefully.”
Any other answer would get his head chopped off. Dojin wasn’t the sharpest, but he knew better than to spout nonsense. He decided to bury it all—the night’s events, the morning’s chaos.
“Did he ask about me?”
Hyunseo’s low voice made Dojin look up. The blue dragon robe rippled in the wind, revealing Hyunseo’s cold, gleaming eyes.
A sudden urge to say he forgot and slept soundly, the night was utterly quiet welled up in him. He didn’t understand why he felt this way.
It’s just the morning’s mess souring my mood, he told himself.
“The Noble Consort asked me about Your Majesty’s whereabouts.”
“I ordered no one to speak of it. I trust no one disobeyed.”
“…”
Dojin’s wavering eyes answered for him. The command had been to guard the Noble Consort’s chambers, not to keep his whereabouts secret. At least, not to him.
Hyunseo studied Dojin’s confused face.
“So it was you who spoke.”
“I only received the order to guard the chambers.”
“You weren’t ordered, so you spoke.”
“Yes.”
This inflexible fool was going to ruin everything. Hyunseo pressed his fingers to his forehead. He’d assumed that even a battle-hardened yangin like Dojin would know how to read the room. His expectations had been utterly misplaced.
“You know how to wield a sword, but not the words in your mouth.”
Hyunseo’s eyes chilled. He felt like drawing his blade and cutting off Dojin’s thick neck right then.
If Dojin knew the lengths he’d gone to hide his whereabouts, he wouldn’t be standing there so calmly. He’d silenced the court ladies, even sent personal letters to Court Lady Kim and Court Official Park, before finally stepping into Gyopung Palace.
‘You don’t know how heavy my steps were, how much it weighed on me.’
Every turn, he’d wanted to glance toward Siyeong Palace. Every flower along the path made him picture Doha’s face. Dojin couldn’t possibly understand.
“…Did he cry?”
Doha must have wept until no one was left to see, his pale face streaked with tears. Dojin lowered his head again, unable to speak.
“I asked if Doha cried.”
“He did.”
Hyunseo’s heart clenched. He wanted to say more—that Doha had drunk himself sick, that he’d gazed at the flowers Hyunseo had given him and felt lonely. But asking about Doha’s well-being after spending the night with another omega was unjust.
If he wasn’t going to care, then he shouldn’t have—
An uncharacteristic thought slipped out.
“If Your Majesty hadn’t gone to Gyopung Palace… he wouldn’t have cried.”
Dojin looked up at Hyunseo with the most rebellious gaze he’d ever worn since entering the palace.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
