The moment he opened the door, Mikhail instinctively squinted against the hot steam that rushed from the bathroom. As he slowly opened his eyes again, he finally heard a voice—Adrian, who was lounging back in the large tub, leaning against its edge.
“You really just barged in because I took a little too long to answer?”
“…”
Even though all the decorations had been cleared away with magic, the man inside—his golden hair glowing against the steam—made the bathroom feel more luxurious than any other room on the continent. From the instant he laid eyes on Adrian, Mikhail found himself utterly speechless.
Shit… I need to say something back already…
“N-the knock.”
Mikhail forced his lips apart—they were stubbornly stuck together—as he managed to get the first word out. Thankfully, once he started speaking, the rest followed more naturally.
“No answer to a knock usually means come in, doesn’t it?”
“Ah. So it’s just bad manners, then.”
Adrian tilted his relaxed body slightly and played at forgiving Mikhail’s breach of etiquette with mock generosity. It was an act—after all, he’d been the one to lure Mikhail into coming in here in the first place.
Mikhail’s gaze drifted to the neatly folded clothes laid out on one side of the bathroom. Then he asked,
“What’s with the sudden bath?”
“Hmmm.”
Adrian slowly straightened up from where he’d been resting against the tub, casually propping one arm on the edge and resting his chin atop it. As he moved, the sound of dripping water echoed softly, droplets falling one after another, while the water in the tub spilled over with a gentle slosh. Mikhail glanced down and noticed the water creeping around his shoes, already soaking into them. He looked back at Adrian.
“They had the warm water prepared so kindly—it would’ve been rude as a guest to ignore it.”
“…I see.”
Mikhail watched Adrian’s wet, gleaming blond hair slump faintly with moisture, his face dazed. The tension in the room spiked even higher as he realized those eyes were staring straight at him—unwavering, locked in place from across the room.
Damn it… if I stay here any longer…
Mikhail bit the inside of his cheek, then quickly turned his head to avoid Adrian’s gaze, which was directed squarely at him. Gripping the slightly ajar bathroom door, he spoke hastily.
“Then I’ll just—head ou—”
“Not coming in?”
Adrian’s clear, steady voice snagged Mikhail’s retreating steps mid-motion.
“…Wh-What?”
Mikhail stammered, caught off guard. Sshhhh— The sound of water spilling over the edge of the bathtub echoed once more throughout the steamy room. Adrian let out a soft chuckle as he watched Mikhail’s grip on the doorknob slowly tighten.
“All I said was let’s bathe together. What’s got you so rattled?”
“I’m not.”
Grinding his already abused lip again, Mikhail forced himself to respond.
“Who said I was scared?”
“Oh? You’re not?”
“Of course not—urk.”
Since when…?! Adrian’s voice suddenly whispered right beside his ear, not from the bathtub where he had been a moment ago. Mikhail flinched violently in surprise. The air was thick with the sweet floral scent of rose water that had soaked Adrian’s body—and layered beneath it was his distinct, natural musk, hitting Mikhail all at once.
“And you’re still saying you’re not scared?”
Mikhail’s whole body stiffened, and the tips of his ears turned a flushed, vivid red.
Even in that tense state, he kept a straight face and gave the smallest, defiant nod. Truthfully, this wasn’t fear—it was a different kind of crisis entirely.
But this was as far as he was allowed to go—for now.
Adrian glanced sidelong at Mikhail’s burning ears, then swept his wet hair back with a slow stroke of his palm, pressing the strands against his forehead. Drip. Drip. Each motion of his arm sent droplets splashing onto the tile, their crisp sound echoing through the misty bathroom.
“…What do I have to be scared of, anyway?”
Still refusing to make eye contact, Mikhail muttered under his breath. Just at the edge of his downward gaze, he could see Adrian’s bare feet.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Adrian’s view was filled with Mikhail, clinging to the doorknob like it was his last lifeline. After a long carriage journey, this break was their first chance at real rest, and soaking in hot water was perfect for loosening up a body stiffened by the cold. But Mikhail still hadn’t said a word. Adrian stared at him for a moment, then furrowed his brows in irritation.
If someone was going to show this much resistance with their whole body, then… there wasn’t much point in pushing.
“Fine. If you hate the idea of bathing together that much, forget it.”
Adrian waved a hand lazily toward the bathroom door and walked back to the tub by himself. Even after he slid once more into the hot water, Mikhail showed no signs of moving from the doorway. Adrian leaned against the edge of the tub and tilted his head, peeking toward him.
It wasn’t until then that Mikhail, noticing the movement, finally muttered, barely audible, “I’ll go,” and took a step back.
Click. The door closed with a soft thud.
Adrian let out a breath, gazing up at the ceiling with a quiet hum.
That persistent ache near his heart—one that had started some time ago—briefly flared before fading again. Alone in the bathroom now, Adrian exhaled slowly and sank down beneath the steaming surface of the water.
***
“…You need to dry it properly.”
Mikhail’s voice came as Adrian stepped out after the bath, robe draped loosely around him. Water still dripped from Adrian’s damp hair.
“It’ll dry on its own.”
Unfazed, Adrian casually checked the teapot on the side table.
He flopped onto the sofa, relaxed and languid, and with a flick of magic, brought the water inside the kettle to a boil. He poured a small cup and took a sip—and the warmth that bloomed through his chest immediately soothed him.
Nothing beat a cup of tea after a bath.
That was when—
“Lift your head.”
Mikhail had walked all the way around to the back of the sofa at some point, holding a soft, dry towel in his hand. Adrian glanced at the towel, instantly grasping his intent, and muttered,
“If it bothers you that much, I could just dry it with magic.”
“…No. I suddenly felt like doing it myself.”
“Drying someone’s hair?”
“Yeah, well.”
Exactly.
As Adrian kept pressing with more questions, Mikhail, clearly not in the mood to keep answering, casually dropped the towel over Adrian’s head. Then, without much care, he began to ruffle his hair.
Surprisingly, Adrian let him. He quietly entrusted his hair to the soft, deliberate motions of Mikhail’s hands.
Mikhail caught a glimpse of Adrian’s golden lashes resting gently against his cheeks, eyes closed beneath them.
As he continued to look down at him, his eyes unintentionally slipped lower—right between the parted folds of Adrian’s robe, revealing the pale expanse of his bare chest. Mikhail jerked his head up like he’d been scorched, fixing his gaze on empty air to avoid staring.
Drying someone else’s hair was far more tedious than he had imagined. Mikhail had never voluntarily done anything like this before. He tried to mimic what the palace attendants used to do, summoning the memory from long ago—but he was clumsy, and every now and then, Adrian’s brows knit slightly in response.
“…You smell like roses.”
Mikhail’s low voice broke the quiet. Adrian slowly cracked one eye open.
“Of course. That was the scent of the bath oil.”
“I don’t like rose scent.”
Hmm?
Adrian’s eyes flicked up, trying to gauge Mikhail’s expression. But the towel covered most of his face, shielding his reaction.
“I prefer your natural scent more than any of that.”
The towel moved more gently now, as if it were caressing something precious. After a long pause, Adrian murmured,
“…I see.”
The Darphung, who’d dozed off earlier, suddenly came bounding over to Adrian’s feet, panting and wagging his tail. He gave Adrian’s ankle a loud, enthusiastic lick.
“I’ll keep that in mind for the next bath.”
From that moment on, Mikhail dried Adrian’s hair with extra care, taking several more minutes to make sure not a trace of moisture remained. Once he confirmed his work—Adrian’s hair soft, warm, and thoroughly dry—he tugged the corners of his mouth into a rare, wide smile.
A perfect face, topped with unruly hair he himself had tousled into a mess… it was a sight he didn’t want to share with anyone else on the continent. Something just for him.
“…We should sleep for tonight.”
With those final words, the two lay down at opposite ends of the large bed.
Come to think of it, while they had shared a room for over a year, this was the first time they had ever actually shared the same bed.
Mikhail pulled the blanket up to his chin with a vaguely distressed expression. He shifted slightly, and fortunately, the other person sharing the bed wasn’t within his line of sight—just like usual, it almost felt like he was sleeping alone.
But the sound of breathing was unavoidable.
As Mikhail lay there blinking up at the ceiling, listening to the calm, even rhythm of Adrian’s breath behind him, a voice suddenly spoke from across his back.
“What? Something bothering you?”
“…No.”
Damn it. Am I the only one getting worked up here?
Mikhail tossed and turned under the covers for a while, and before he knew it, sleep overtook him.
***
When Mikhail next opened his eyes, he was somewhere he’d never been before.
Where is this…?
He looked down at his own hands and legs, then scanned his surroundings, frowning as he took it all in.
Everything around him was pure white. It felt like his entire body was wrapped in a sheet of blank paper. There wasn’t even the sensation of his feet touching the ground.
“What… is this…?”
“A dream?”
Just as Mikhail whispered to himself, a voice responded from somewhere.
“You really have dreams this boring?”
There, not far from him, sat a lion with a coat of golden fur.
A lion? That couldn’t be right.
For someone like Mikhail, born and raised in the Kingdom of Rustavaran, a lion was an animal he’d only ever seen in books or illustrations.
