“Maki.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Prepare lunch without Grand Secretary Choi knowing.”
Seon lifted his unusually flushed face and smiled lazily.
“Bring it to the annex.”
***
Jihan was still in the annex.
When Seon slid open the paper door and stepped inside, Jihan’s head snapped up like a startled deer. His silken hair spilled over his shoulders. Both of them froze, eyes locked on each other.
Jihan was wearing Seon’s dong-ot[^1]. His own clothes had been torn to shreds by Seon last night. Unable to bear the thought of wearing tattered rags, he must have helped himself to someone else’s. The oversized garment kept slipping off his shoulders, and he clutched at the collar with desperate fingers, glaring warily. It was quite amusing.
So as long as the top is covered, it’s fine?
Seon tilted his head slightly. Jihan sat cross-legged, and between his thighs, his flushed scrotum and soft cock were faintly visible. Only when Seon’s gaze drifted downward did Jihan unfold his legs and press his knees tightly together.
“Get out.”
His face was deathly pale, slick with cold sweat and fear. He scooted backward, his hips retreating until—thud—his back hit the folding screen. The movement jostled his insides, and the cum Seon had pumped into him last night dribbled out, soaking into the bedding.
For a moment, Seon’s abs tightened at the sight, a thrill running through him like an electric current.
“How dare you look at me? You filthy beggar bastard.”
Even after everything that had happened last night, his temper hadn’t changed. His voice was hoarse, rough in a way that made him sound like a completely different person. Seon could tell he was forcing bravado to hide his fear. The way he clutched the blanket to cover himself, like a new bride after her wedding night, was almost pathetic.
Seon licked his dry lips, holding back the flood of lewd questions rising in his mind. Instead, he picked the most ordinary one.
“You’re going out like this?”
“…What if I don’t?”
“You don’t even realize what you look like right now…”
Seon tilted his head, wearing an expression of amused curiosity.
“You look terrible. What on earth happened last night?”
He feigned ignorance, his voice smooth. Jihan’s stiff face twisted slightly—almost imperceptibly.
Seon glanced around the room before picking up a shattered piece of mirror and placing it on the small table.
“The servants are cleaning the main hall and the annex courtyard. If you go out like this, rumors will spread. It would be strange for you to be coming out of my annex, wouldn’t it?”
“…But.”
“Hm?”
“Why the hell have you been smiling this whole time?”
Ah. Right.
Seon had long noticed that his lips twitched into a strange, light smile whenever he looked at Jihan. The way Jihan’s face contorted with sheer disgust at the mere sight of him was just so funny. He pressed his fingertips to his mouth for a moment, but the smirk lingered as he spoke brightly.
“I’ll bring you something to eat and water to wash up. Wait here.”
The moment Seon left the room, Jihan slammed his fist into the bedding.
“Fuck… Fuck!”
This was unbearable. He couldn’t let Seon see him like this—humiliated, reduced to a joke.
He recoiled from the bedding, soaked with a mix of fluids, his body shuddering. Does he not remember? Or was he pretending? Either way, it made him sick. He wanted to kill him. He punched the pillow again, and a sharp pain lanced through his lower body.
The faint scent of goblin’s water still lingered in the room. Exhaustion washed over him, and all he wanted to do was lie down. Jihan carefully lowered himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
…No way.
He shook his head in irritation, squeezing his eyes shut. No. He knew what that drug was capable of. Even if his strange constitution had kept him from fully succumbing to its effects, there was no way he’d forgotten everything that had happened last night. Even alcohol could black out memories if he drank too much—so what chance did he have against goblin’s water?
Forget it.
He would pretend it never happened. Then everything could go back to the way it was. The wreckage between his legs would heal with time.
But more than anything, he needed to get out of here. If the servants—or worse, his father—saw him like this, he’d rather bite down on a blade and end himself. All he wanted was to crawl back to his room in the small study and sleep like the dead. His body ached that badly.
With great effort, he pushed himself up. He reached for the mother-of-pearl inlaid chest where his clothes were kept, bracing himself against the floor to shift his weight. The pain in his lower abdomen was so severe he couldn’t stand. He opened a drawer and rummaged for a pair of pants that might fit. But all of them were custom-tailored—uselessly long, the hems dragging on the floor.
Cursing nonstop, he sat on the floor and struggled into a pair. He managed to get the legs on up to his thighs, but when he tried to kneel and push himself up, his hands trembling, a dull, searing pain shot through his waist, sending him sprawling forward.
“Agh…”
His vision blurred with tears. It hurt so much.
“You bastard… I’m going to kill you…”
He’d never felt this miserable. Not even when he’d fallen off his horse two years ago, dead drunk on his way home, had it been this bad. He curled up, his body wracked with pain, muttering curses under his breath—when he heard movement outside. Panicked, he thought it might be the servants cleaning the courtyard. He hastily yanked the blanket over himself.
The murmuring voices grew closer. Then, a rich, spicy scent of seafood stew wafted in from outside.
“…Food?”
He mumbled to himself. It was absurd that he could even think of eating in this state. But pain was pain, and hunger was hunger. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.
Soon, the middle door slid open, and a familiar black lacquered tray was carried in.
His brief flicker of hunger vanished the moment he saw who was holding it.
Jihan glared daggers at Seon’s side profile as he set down the tray.
“Why the hell are you bringing me food?”
Seon looked at him as if the answer were obvious.
“Because you’re in no state to move.”
“……”
That tone grated on his nerves. The man who hadn’t responded to a single word last night was now answering back without hesitation. That, in itself, was infuriating.
Jihan stole a glance at the appetizing spread on the tray, forcing himself to say the opposite of what he wanted.
“The food’s here. Go call Maki.”
“Why Maki?”
“I’m going back to the small study.”
“I can’t leave until you’ve eaten.”
“Hah. Since when do you get to decide?”
“I’m tending to a patient. Isn’t that what a caretaker does?”
“What? You little—you’re not even dry behind the ears!”
A bitter laugh escaped him. Just days ago, this man couldn’t even meet his eyes, and now he was openly defying him with that insolent attitude.
“If you don’t like it, stay in my room for days.”
Jihan’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Was he seriously trying to one-up him?
“Don’t overstep. Just because you got lucky and pinned me down once, don’t think our positions have reversed…”
“Pinned you down?”
“……”
“Who?”
“……”
“Did what?”
Seon kept prodding, a smirk playing on his lips.
…You… me…
The words rose to the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them back.
You pinned me down, crushed me, rammed into me like an animal, and shook me half to death until dawn.
But he could never say it out loud. It would be like pouring salt on his already raw pride. Besides, he wasn’t sure if Seon was genuinely asking or just pretending not to know. For now, he kept his mouth shut.
***
[^1]: Dong-ot – A traditional Korean undergarment, typically worn in layers beneath outer robes.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
