2 – Act 1, Chapter 2

Contrary to his words about returning soon, the master continued his work in the hut for some time after returning from his outing. The sound of stone being broken and polished, day and night, was now becoming as familiar as the singing of birds in the forest.

“Still noisy today, isn’t it?”

MacQuan listened to the sounds awakening the morning forest, resting his chin on one hand. His master was likely absorbed in his carving, oblivious to the fact that his sun-like hair was covered in stone dust.

“I’ve actually started sleeping well to that sound. Isn’t it funny?”

The sensation of a tongue licking his fingers was unfamiliar. The large frame of the man watching this scene shook with laughter.

“He has absolutely no consideration for those who are sleeping. He just does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. So when I complain that I’m losing sleep, he mocks me, asking what on earth I’ve worked on to be so tired. He’s a man with no sense of acknowledgement. You agree, don’t you?”

Despite the grumbling content, affection for the other was mixed into his voice. MacQuan stroked the red fox with a gentle hand.

“Skipping breakfast, skipping lunch… I don’t know if he doesn’t eat because his stomach is full of stone dust. It would be nice if he ate as well as you do.”

The small wild animal let out a whining cry and pushed away the man’s bothersome hand with its nose. It had been motionless at first, but MacQuan found it quite fascinating that it was now showing its true colors and moving around.

“You’ve recovered a lot. You’ll be able to hunt on your own soon.”

MacQuan recalled the moment he found the fox cub. It had been lying in the forest with a gunshot wound to its leg, so motionless that he initially thought it was dead. He had intended to pass by, but a sudden surge of kinship had troubled him.

Was I once collapsed like that weak beast?

If the master hadn’t found him, he might have met his death alone in this isolated and lonely forest, just like the fox cub. Recalling the situation, MacQuan sank into deep sentiment for a long while.

“I thought you were dead.”

When he had approached with the intention of at least burying it out of pity, the fox had let out a faint cry, signaling its survival. It was a miracle. It had already been several months since he began treating and caring for it through this strange twist of fate. He hadn’t given it a name. He feared that forming an unnecessary emotional bond might lead to an uncomfortable situation.

“Thinking about it, I suppose you were destined to live.”

At first, he had only looked after it in secret, not knowing how the master would react. However, even as a wild animal, the cub seemed to recognize its savior; whenever MacQuan brought food, it would approach with a sense of recognition or show affection by licking the back of his hand. Recalling the strange emotion he felt when the creature first approached him, MacQuan wore a full smile.

“Get well soon. You have to go back to the forest. You can’t live long once you’ve been touched by human hands.”

The fox, seemingly unsatisfied even after eating the raw meat, licked the fingertips that still smelled of it. It nipped him with its sharp teeth occasionally, but since it didn’t hurt, his smile only deepened. At that moment, the sound of rustling bushes echoed from not far away. It was a sound caused by an external stimulus.

“What are you doing?”

The peaceful time that had stretched out leisurely vanished in an instant at the approach of a presence. Noticing the intruder, the fox cub limped and hid behind the bushes. Even without checking, the footsteps were now far too familiar. MacQuan turned around with an ambiguous smile.

“When did you arrive? I clearly heard the sound of work until a moment ago.”

“Where was your mind wandering? I finished long ago. How long do you think it takes to get here?”

At Aaron’s rebuke, MacQuan finally realized that a considerable amount of time had passed while he was spacing out. Not far away was the lake the master enjoyed visiting.

“Did you come out for a swim?”

Instead of answering, Aaron sat beside him and stared at the bushes where the fox had just disappeared.

“You aren’t exactly in a position to be tending to animals.”

“…Did you see?”

When MacQuan laughed awkwardly, Aaron tilted his chin with an expression clearly full of ridicule.

“I heard everything, including the part where you talked to yourself about me.”

“No, then you should have just come out immediately.”

MacQuan’s face flushed red with embarrassment. Unintentionally, he had ended up badmouthing the master in his absence.

“I wasn’t saying anything bad.”

He didn’t know what kind of thunderbolt would strike from that temper. While he hesitated on how to fix the situation, the master let out a hollow laugh and glared at him, as if reading his thoughts.

A sudden gust of wind messily ruffled the master’s pale blonde hair. The golden threads scattering across his bloodless face evoked the image of a portrait. MacQuan cleared his throat and pointed toward the long stretch of woodland on the opposite side.

“I found it with a gunshot wound to the leg. It must have been prey… it was lying there near the edge of the woods, nearly dead.”

Looking in the direction the dog pointed, Aaron responded leisurely.

“Lucky thing. Normally, in a fox hunt, the fox is meant to be bitten to death by the hounds.”

“A fox hunt? Do people hunt foxes even in an abandoned estate?”

“One can never know the whims of nobles.”

“Surely the noble lords wouldn’t hunt in a forest where not even the landscaping is maintained? What maintenance? I’d believe it if you told me this forest was in the deepest part of the mountains.”

“I suppose so.”

It was a pure question without any particular suspicion. Aaron glossed over the answer and turned his head with a stiff expression.

“I feel the same, but you really are a mystery, Master.”

A genuine, joyful laugh burst forth. It was a sight a servant should never have shown his master, but instead of his usual sarcasm, Aaron chose to acquiesce. After all, the dog’s insolence was nothing new, and since his roots were lowly, it wasn’t something that could be corrected, so it was better to leave him be.

Despite the twisted thoughts, the gaze looking over the forest was equally peaceful. In a space devoid of any pain or nightmares, a stillness that transcended the flow of time continued for a while.

“May I keep taking care of it?”

As the wind grew slightly colder, MacQuan cautiously voiced his inner thoughts. Aaron blinked slowly and replied bluntly.

“What?”

“That fox cub from before. It’s hiding over there.”

“It’s none of my concern.”

“Really?”

“You’re going to do as you please even if I tell you not to, aren’t you? If you’re willing to share your own food, I won’t stop you. Though it seems like a stupid and inefficient idea.”

Despite the blunt tone, the master ultimately granted his request. MacQuan smiled broadly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Don’t think too poorly of it.”

Faintly, the sound of something approaching was heard. The leaves of the bushes rustled, and the red head of the fox cub popped out again. Watching the scene, Aaron soon realized the source of his déjà vu and smiled mischievously.

“Isn’t it like this because you didn’t eat it?”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

It was a nonsensical statement. Even when he asked back with wide eyes, the master only clicked his tongue briefly and said nothing more. Since he never answered a question twice, MacQuan quickly gave up and flopped onto the grass. He figured the comment hadn’t been directed at him.

“The weather is lovely.”

The sky, which had been a gloomy gray for several days, was exceptionally blue today. It was weather rarely seen lately. Only after throwing a moderately cooked piece of meat from his bag toward the bushes where the fox was hiding did Aaron turn his gaze away.

“Foxes don’t eat cooked meat! Take it away!”

“If it’s hungry, it’ll eat it.”

“It’ll get sick if you give it just anything.”

“Better than dying.”

Low laughter followed. Time passed without much conversation. The occasional cool breeze made the bushes dance and sing. After listening to the song of nature for a while, MacQuan spoke the thought that had occurred to him.

“It would be wonderful to hold an exhibition on a day like this.”

“An exhibition?”

“The works you’ve created, Master. It would be nice to exhibit them in a grand building, but… on a day with such a clear sky and beautiful sunshine, it would be lovely to exhibit them outdoors.”

“You certainly speak with a generous heart.”

It was a dreamlike suggestion. Normally, this would have been the timing for anger, but the sunlight was exceptionally good today. He liked the tranquility that made his whole body slacken even without opium. Aaron stopped his habitual nitpicking and flopped down beside MacQuan.

“Isn’t it a decent plan? Of course, moving all those sculptures wouldn’t be easy… but the whole world would be amazed.”

“Nonsense.”

Faced with such an unresponsive attitude, MacQuan propped up his upper body and continued.

“I’m serious! Whether it’s paintings or sculptures, well, someone like me doesn’t really know what’s good or bad, but…”

“….”

“Just think about it. Wouldn’t it be wonderful? The exhibition is a success, and everyone wants to buy your work. By holding exhibitions repeatedly, your name would become known. Everyone would scramble to buy them, and your work would be known to people for a long time.”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

The fox cub, cautiously crawling out from the bushes, circled around the piece of meat on the ground. Watching the creature sniff incessantly while remaining wary, MacQuan smiled and plucked at the grass. He chewed his lip for a moment, and only after a significant amount of time had passed did he cautiously speak.

“I truly liked them. The pieces you carved, Master.”

It was a brief impression without any particular flowery language. The blue eyes that had also been watching the fox moved slowly to the side. There stood the insolent dog, the playfulness gone, looking at him with earnest eyes.

“I really, truly liked them.”

“….”

“Truly.”

It was a plain impression without any sweetness or ornate decoration, but the voice containing honest sincerity was directed entirely toward him. His throat went dry. Feeling a sudden loss for words, Aaron sat up and took a clumsy breath. Sensing the awkward atmosphere, MacQuan returned to a mischievous smile and shrugged.

“If I were a businessman, I would have certainly sold your sculptures for the highest price in the world.”

“…You truly speak at your own level.”

He glanced at the master, who replied in a bored voice. It was difficult to gauge what the expressionless face was thinking.

“You said I’m a servant. What kind of nobility, like a king of some country, were you expecting?”

“You should be grateful for your situation here. If you went out as a servant for some noble, you’d have been beaten nearly to death and kicked out.”

“I think that’s true.”

“You have no pride.”

“What need is there for such a thing here?”

“True. There is no need for anything here.”

Silence fell again with a calm smile. In the master’s eyes, which were looking somewhere far off in the forest, cold passion and anger were intertwined.

“Are you really leaving today?”

Without turning his gaze, Aaron nodded.

“Probably.”

Long streaks of clouds drifted leisurely along the direction of the wind. No one knew where the destination of that journey lay. Aaron smiled bitterly, finding it laughable that he himself coveted and longed for even such a trivial journey. The few days of diversion had ended; it was time to put back on the shackles called Cornwall and Wizfeldon.

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. Probably a few more days.”

“I see.”

Hiding his heavy heart, MacQuan took a moment to catch his breath. For some reason, the time spent alone waiting for a master who might return at any time was becoming harder rather than more familiar.

“When you return this time…”

His voice was slightly lower, slower, and darker than before. The grass covering the back of his hand fluttered.

“I hope you don’t get hurt anymore.”

MacQuan was still looking straight ahead. It would be more accurate to say he couldn’t bring himself to turn his gaze. Suddenly, the hand wearing a black glove to hide wounds entered his field of vision. He wanted to hold it, but he mustn’t. It was an irreverent and presumptuous thought.

“If someone does that to you again… I hope you’ll at least run away then.”

“….”

“I don’t want to see you come back injured anymore.”

Watching the red hair that fluttered along with the grass and leaves, Aaron let out a small smirk.

“Even if someone picks a fight, just ignore them and pass by.”

“Right.”

“And don’t get into fights by trying to sell things for too much.”

“…Right.”

Futile requests and even more futile answers were exchanged.

It was a peaceful afternoon where no one was wounded or hurt.

✧ ✧ ✧

Contrary to his stern appearance, Bernard was among those with a soft heart. This tendency was particularly prominent in matters concerning the sensitive and fierce heir he had cared for over a long period.

“The young master has been eating well lately… and his complexion has improved significantly.”

“….”

“You have no idea how happy I am.”

Aaron bit into an apple and drew lines connecting a certain shape on a notebook. He was in a rare state of calmness, listening to the pleasant sound passing over the paper.

“Lately, he hasn’t been attending those noisy gatherings…”

Swoosh. A long line created a sophisticated curve. Aaron struggled to recall the image he remembered. Someone’s face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, and ears surfaced one by one. Combined, it was a fairly decent appearance. He had little interest in living beings, but it wasn’t bad. Hmm. A low groan of concentration escaped through his tightly closed lips.

“I am so relieved that he has almost quit opium. The Duke will be pleased as well.”

Despite the sincere words, Aaron gave Bernard a gesture without much reaction.

“Prepare some food to take to the forest. And a bottle of Sherry Wine.”

“I am glad you are eating well. Oh dear, young master, your hand is covered in powder. You must wipe it before eating. What good is it if stone dust gets into the food?”

“Right…”

The nagging had begun. Since it was now a familiar part of daily life, Aaron let out a low yawn and continued his work. Because he was lying down, his long legs protruded over the armrest.

“The master is expected to arrive at the mansion soon. It would be best to tidy up.”

Looking at Aaron, who was absorbed in his drawing, with a worried gaze, Bernard hurriedly instructed the maid who had followed him to organize the cluttered surroundings.

“I get it, so you may leave now.”

The answer was utterly indifferent. His interest was focused on only one place.

“….”

The hand moving across the paper paused for a moment. It would be better to modify the face shape to be slightly sharper. Considering the wretched state he was in when first discovered, he had recovered quite a bit recently and was now presentable.

Hmm. Groaning softly, Aaron rubbed his chin. As expected, drawing wasn’t quite his taste. Unable to overcome the encroaching lethargy, Aaron placed the notebook on his stomach and closed his eyes.

“I shall prepare some food for your snack.”

Watching the small master grow quiet, Bernard withdrew from the room.

Once the door closed, silence flowed through the space where he remained alone. The only noise was the sound of his own quiet breathing. His eyelashes trembled, following the vibrations in the air. Memories flowed back, further into the past.

“Could you draw me next time?”

The insolent dog.

How dare he, not knowing his place.

Contrary to his rough heart, his tightly closed lips curved slightly.

Recently, the dog’s insolence had reached the sky. He was usually taciturn, but when he had something to say, he was unrestrained. Then again, where would the nature of a cheap merchant go? With that level of eloquence, a man of such lowly birth must have risen to the status of a Baronet.

The night wind entered through the slightly open window. A few sheets of paper fluttered at the touch of the breeze. It was a freshness different from London, which was covered in polluted smoke.

“….”

Aaron opened his eyes again. Scattering lights slowly spread across his retinas. He picked up the conté again and began drawing from the part that remained most vivid in his memory.

The dog’s eyes were a deep, dark forest green. He didn’t like that color, but as he kept looking at it, that feeling faded. Mocking his own heart that changed as easily as flipping a palm, Aaron quickly completed the remaining parts. Even though the colors applied with conté were essentially all black, an odd sense of color was felt in the drawing.

“Hmm.”

Looking at the nearly finished drawing, Aaron grinned. It had been a while since he’d drawn a proper sketch, so it felt awkward, but once the form was captured, it wasn’t bad. Later, it would be fine to just paint the pupils with green dye. He was in the midst of various worries swirling in a deep trench.

[Aaron—!]

“….”

A shout accompanied by fierce footsteps echoed throughout the mansion from afar. At that sound, the slowly moving hand stopped completely.

“Here we go again.”

A tired sigh escaped his lips. Thump— thump— thump— the footsteps, condensed with rage, were a monster’s preliminary warning. Foreseeing the commotion that had become an annual event, Aaron carelessly shoved his notebook between the cushions.

Slam—!

The door flew open the moment he pushed himself up. Since he hadn’t expected a knock in the first place, Aaron responded only by knitting his brows.

“Do you have no intention of greeting me properly?”

The Duke of Cornwall threw his cane violently onto the floor and strode toward Aaron with rapid steps. The way he stripped off his top hat and frock coat was more savage than usual. He got straight to the point.

“Prepare to go to Nottinghamshire. We depart tomorrow.”

Aaron furrowed his neat eyes at the incomprehensible news.

“Nottinghamshire? What on earth is this all of a sudden?”

“I will explain on the way. It concerns Rodinton.”

Rodinton.

One corner of Aaron’s mouth curled crookedly. His father was a respected politician, but not a brilliant businessman. Acquiring a cotton textile company riddled with tumors was undoubtedly the worst choice, but the Duke, blinded by public acclaim and royal support, had failed to judge rationally.

“Take Calvin instead.”

Answering in a listless tone, Aaron walked toward the table. Spanish wine and glasses were prepared.

“Nonsense. Do not think for a moment of putting ideas into Calvin’s head. He is a child who knows his place. No matter what happens, that boy can never be my heir!”

Aaron twisted the corner of his lips at the cold words. The Duke of Cornwall, growing irritated by the ambiguous reaction, picked up his cane again.

“What is wrong with you? Surely you haven’t touched opium again?”

“Haven’t you already been informed?”

The old Duke sat on the chaise longue where his son had been leaning just moments ago, his expression still full of suspicion.

“As if I could ever trust you.”

A frivolous laugh and the sound of wine filling the glass served as the answer. Due to Aaron’s persistently unserious attitude, the tension between the two gradually grew more sinister.

“Will you continue to maintain such an attitude?”

“What more would you have me do?”

“To continue being so irreverent in that manner—!”

The words, spoken in an agitated tone, suddenly trailed off.

“What is this…”

Eyes steeped in stubborn resolve narrowed. At that moment, an object caught his eye: the small notebook shoved between the cushions. Naturally, his hand reached for it. The wars—or rather, the non-wars—fought repeatedly with his heir over the last few years had made the Duke of Cornwall extremely sensitive. The act of flipping open the cover was a result of experience; in a way, it was a predictable sequence of events.

Only then, at the sound of pages turning, did Aaron realize what his father was holding. His expressionless face was momentarily stained with bewilderment. The Duke of Cornwall’s expression had also turned fierce.

“You, you…”

Rage radiated from his sharply upturned eyes. His flushed face was an indicator of his fury. Without hesitation, the old Duke gripped the notebook with both hands and applied force.

The sketch paper was ruthlessly torn by the large hands. It happened in an instant.

“You were doing this behind my back again, deceiving me! Again!”

The rage-filled accusation thundered up to the ceiling. Due to the excessive commotion, the hurried footsteps of servants scattered beyond the firmly closed door. It was a routine movement, prepared for emergency situations.

“How many times must I tell you that this sort of thing is for those who are uneducated? What is it that you lack, what are you missing that you would do this!”

Torn scraps of paper fell miserably. Aaron’s gaze as he watched them was merely vacant. His father’s grotesque rage and rampage were a familiar part of his daily life. He only had to wait for his soul to be annihilated and endure a brief moment of violence.

“How dare you do such a thing. The heir to Cornwall, the man who will one day be Duke, doing such a pathetic act! How lamentable it would be if the previous Dukes saw this. You should be ashamed!”

Among the rapidly tearing drawings, a slightly different image appeared. It was someone’s face, drawn freely with a black conté until moments ago. A scribble that was barely a drawing, having not yet even taken a proper shape.

He could have just left it alone. He knew well that if he sacrificed his work, the monster would soon calm down and everything would end peacefully. Aaron did not hold much attachment to his works, which could be defaced or disappear at any time. Whenever he grew fond of something, it was inevitably destroyed by the monster’s hand. It was an unchanging unwritten law.

“Could you draw me next time?”

Aaron watched the drawing be ruthlessly crumpled and torn in his father’s hands. He recalled the face being defaced in that grip, the voice, and the ambiguous smile formed the moment the request was made to him.

“Or it would be fine if you sculpted my likeness.”

He recalled the way the person had been unable to hide their joy, though awkward, upon granting permission. The voice that had asked several times if it were truly okay.

“….”

No matter how much he acted nonchalant, his fingertips trembled. Cold blood surged in his mind. It was not a good sign. He had to control his emotions in front of the monster, but things were not going as planned. Unconsciously, Aaron’s steps moved toward the convulsing monster. Emotion took precedence over the reason that told him it was useless. An unbearable, pitch-black pain pressed painfully against his entire chest.

“Give it back.”

“What?”

“I said, give it back.”

Thwack—!

He snatched the notebook, which was already more than half torn, and jerked his arm up. The Duke of Cornwall’s expression distorted, momentarily unable to grasp the situation that had unfolded so quickly. He had exerted so much force that bloodshot veins stood out clearly in the whites of his eyes. He truly looked like a demon.

“Do not ever touch my work again.”

“Aaron, you…”

“Never again.”

Uncontained hatred and rage exploded. He could not bear the shortness of breath. Aaron shouted as he shoved his father toward the cushions.

“Enough! Just get out!”

The Duke of Cornwall, forced down onto the chaise longue, was aghast.

“You, you brat… How dare you… How dare you!”

He fumbled for his cane and swung it with all his might. Because he held it backward, the ivory-carved handle traced a large arc and struck Aaron’s head. His body staggered, unable to withstand the impact. For a moment, he was nearly blind, but it was a pain he was already accustomed to.

“Get out.”

“…You’ve lost your mind again.”

The voice, stripped of emotion, rang out coldly. When anger reached its peak, the judge became calm. The glint in the eyes looking down at his fallen son shone cruelly. Aaron’s gaze, staring back at his father, was equally cold and filled with murderous intent.

“God will be angered by this.”

With that short mutter, the violence in the name of love began. The horrific sounds of flesh hitting flesh and bone hitting bone filled the desolate space. Aaron did not take any defensive posture and silently accepted the monster’s violence.

I want to kill him.

Hot blood flowed over his forehead. Through it, an infinite amount of hostility and hatred blazed in his vividly shining eyes.

I want to kill him.

I want to kill him.

I want to smash his head, tear him to pieces, and burn that old carcass in hot flames.

Amidst the violence pouring down so heavily that it was hard to maintain a posture, Aaron glanced at the messily crumpled drawing. The sketch was ruined beyond recognition. Just like his life.

‘Of course.’

A hollow laugh filled the room, and the light of the chandelier, studded with tens of thousands of preserved crystals, shimmered brilliantly.

“I hope you aren’t hurt anymore.”

Suddenly, an intense longing to return to the forest overwhelmed him.

His steps through the darkness were sometimes slow and sometimes fast. Sometimes regular, sometimes staggering and aimless. He took detours and walked in straight lines. He was urgent yet calm.

His breathing was very ragged. Blood flowing from wounds that had been simply treated repeatedly obscured his vision. Nevertheless, his hand pushing through the brush was relentless. He passed quickly through the shrubs and navigated the narrow path with familiarity.

His mind grew hazy from a burning fever, but his steps did not stop. The reason he failed to notice the presence following him—something he would usually have sensed immediately—was largely due to the heat warming his entire body.

Wiping his bleeding face repeatedly, Aaron pushed through the final thicket leading to the cabin. The person following him stopped their movements at the same time.

“…Phew.”

He was panting heavily. Aaron swallowed his ragged breath and took a step forward. The torn wounds screamed, and his body, unable to withstand the rising fever, staggered.

Smoke was rising from the small chimney on the cabin roof. On the morning he left the forest, the dog who came to see him off had grumbled that the weather had turned cold. Perhaps he was in the middle of lighting a fire in the old fireplace.

The dog is inside.

The one who knows only me, who waits only for me.

A dog who can go nowhere.

And who wishes to go nowhere.

Aaron wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know if it was because of the pain or the sensation piercing his heart. He stood like an old tree for a long while, staring at the cabin, before slowly walking forward again. The sound of his plodding footsteps echoed quietly. They were heavy steps, soaked in rain. It was a distance of only three or four yards, but by the time he reached the door, his entire strength was exhausted, and no words came out.

“….”

He leaned his forehead against the old wooden porch, supporting himself with both hands. He was so drained of energy that it was difficult to utter a single word. Even though he didn’t apply much pressure, pain surged through his entire face, perhaps because of the torn wounds. His labored breathing scattered chaotically. It was a familiar pain, but it was certainly the worst state he had been in recently.

Tap.

There was no strength in the hand knocking on the door. Red blood seeped between the grains of the wood. Just as he was about to let out a dry laugh, thinking it would be quite a sight in the morning, he heard footsteps rushing toward the door.

He really does have the ears of a dog.

His moderately plump lips curved slightly. To Aaron, footsteps had always been a source of unpleasantness. They were ruthless violence charging toward him, and submission forced upon him in the name of bloodline. They were hatred, rage, and another attack. But now, that sound was received as a completely different sensation.

It is the sound of someone coming to meet me, welcoming me.

Tap. Tap.

Rubbing his head three or four more times gently, Aaron sneered. The feeling of waiting for someone to open the door was unfamiliar and absurd. He even felt a sense of fear at the strange emotion.

You are strange.

You are slowly but clearly changing my unpleasant memories.

You…

Screech—

The door finally opened with the sound of the bolt being released. A streak of light leaked into the dark forest.

“You returned earlier than expect—”

MacQuan, who had come out with a brighter smile than anyone, froze the moment he discovered Aaron leaning against the door.

“…My God.”

The hand that had been fumbling against the wall hurriedly flung the door wide open. As the awkwardly leaning body staggered, MacQuan rushed forward and caught Aaron in his arms. Neither of them had enough composure to think of such a thing as irreverence.

“My God. What in the…”

“….”

“What, what happened? Who on earth… who on earth did this…”

Unable to continue his words, MacQuan’s face eventually crumpled in distress.

“It was hard getting here.”

Muttering weakly, Aaron gripped MacQuan with hands that had become dirty from wiping away blood. It was because he could no longer stand on his own strength.

“The blood…”

“….”

“Too much blood is flowing…”

The hands of the dog wiping away the flowing blood trembled violently. The white shirt was already drenched in blood. Sweat and blood continuously dripped down his temples. Aaron spoke with a look of exhaustion.

“I want to go inside.”

Only then did MacQuan startle and hurriedly support his master. The large hands enveloping the wound-ridden body were still trembling ridiculously. There was no satisfaction in seeing the master, who had been as stiff and noble as an inanimate object, collapse in an instant. Far from satisfaction, he felt a pain beyond imagination. His heart pounded violently, and his eyes grew hot. It was an emotion closer to rage than sadness.

Who did this?

Didn’t I tell him to be careful? To run away.

If he felt threatened, to ask anyone for help…

To run away…

“This way, come this way. This way…”

The strengthless body was precarious, as if it might collapse at any moment. All the way to the bed, MacQuan grit his teeth, suppressing the rage boiling up from the depths of his heart.

“What happened?”

“….”

“Whose doing is this?”

“….”

“Who did this to you…”

The moment he was laid down, a barrage of fierce questions poured out. Aaron blinked slowly and looked up at him. The sight of someone expressing rage on his behalf was unfamiliar.

“The medicine… you brought before… just apply that.”

“…The wounds are deep. Ointment alone is not enough. You must go to a hospital.”

The answer trembled miserably. As if he were the one who had been beaten, MacQuan breathed heavily, unable to contain his anger.

“Forget the hospital. I know my own body best. I don’t have the strength for long talks.”

“Why are you being so stubborn!”

“Because it hurts… hurry.”

“…Please wait.”

Even if the blood weren’t constantly flowing, the torn wounds were quite deep. Since it was a situation where he could no longer argue while the other was in pain, MacQuan hurriedly brought a towel. Fortunately, there was also water he had warmed for washing. Extremely cautious hands moved over the wounded areas.

“Ugh.”

The moment the wet towel touched him, Aaron immediately knitted his brows. Even as the dried blood was wiped away, new blood flowed. As he wiped a bit more, a mottled face appeared. With wounds of this magnitude, it was obvious they would swell even more by tomorrow.

“….”

“….”

MacQuan’s gaze lingered on the swollen and bruised face for a long time, refusing to leave. It was hard to suppress the emotions surging up to the back of his throat. After cleaning the wounds thoroughly, he applied the medicine again and covered them with bandages.

“Who is it?”

His firmly set lips trembled.

The master’s condition was terrible. He didn’t even need to look to know that the rest of the body was likely the same. These wounds were the result of one-sided violence. It was clearly a ruthless assault carried out on someone with no intention of defending themselves.

‘Who.’

Sparks of rage flew in MacQuan’s heart toward the person who was not here.

‘Who on earth.’

The master’s wounds had only recently healed. It had taken barely a few months to finally, finally recover.

If MacQuan could find the culprit, he wanted to pay them back in kind. He wanted to hurt and trample them exactly as they had done to this person. Intense excitement surged steeply. His heartbeat quickened. Before he even realized the murderous intent boiling within him, he repeated the question.

“Who did this?”

“…And if it was someone,”

Aaron chuckled and replied, licking his lips.

“If it was someone, could you save me?”

At the unexpected answer, the arms holding him stiffened. The hands, awkwardly floating in the air, wandered, lost. With a face full of wounds, Aaron smiled brightly.

“Can you save me? Can you kill that person for me?”

The questions continued, gradually sounding like a joke.

Cornwall was a prison.

A prison that broke his wings, severed his ankles, and gouged out his eyes.

The most splendid and majestic of prisons.

Nevertheless, Aaron was a man of overflowing authority and wealth. Everyone looked up to him and envied him. Following a sinister laugh, his wound-ridden body trembled slightly.

“…I.”

The expression looking down at the wounded master became colored even darker. As strength entered the hand gripping the towel, a mixture of water and blood flowed down the forearm. MacQuan stopped his caretaking movements and breathed slowly. A hard-to-bear, pitch-black rage surged. His vision turned bright red. It was a color resembling the blood the master had shed.

“Shall I kill them?”

At the whispering words of consolation, Aaron lifted his gaze. And he met eyes that looked only at him. In that transparent greenery, he was the only one who existed.

A pure green forest, his own forest.

The loyal dog was concerned only for his master’s well-being.

“….”

His tightly closed lips parted slightly.

“Shall I kill them for you?”

Neither a word to do so, nor a word not to, came out. Aaron, his smile gone, gazed blankly at MacQuan. In the heavy silence, the face drawn with masculine and strong lines was already drenched in tears. Feeling a suffocating sensation, Aaron frowned and reached out. His hand touched a softly tanned cheek. A damp moisture clung to his fingertips. An incomprehensible question filled his mind.

“Why are you crying?”

A coarse voice escaped. Instead of answering the question, MacQuan gripped Aaron’s wound-ridden hand with trembling fingers. The intent behind the action was unclear. Aaron tilted his cheek silently. The dog, whose gaze met his, looked utterly tormented.

“Because you cannot cry.”

The back and palms of his master’s hands were covered in blood. It was the mark of having wiped the blood away throughout the journey to the cabin. MacQuan’s heart crumbled as he looked at him.

His master was foolish. He was arrogant and authoritative, yet foolish. He knew less of the world than MacQuan did, who had become a simpleton after losing all his memories. MacQuan gripped his master’s blood-stained hand tightly and whispered again.

“……Because you cannot kill.”

Aaron flicked his finger to wipe away the tears on MacQuan’s cheek once more. They would undoubtedly taste salty. He could not understand the reaction of a dog who grew angry over something so insignificant. His wavering heart felt so strange that he blinked repeatedly.

“You are odd.”

“…….”

“You’re far too emotional.”

Even the sight of him tilting his head with a face full of wounds was too painful; MacQuan buried his cheek in that scarred hand and rubbed it. His master wore an expression that suggested he didn’t perceive his own pain at all. MacQuan knew those eyes well. Eyes that had grown numb to violence and pain. The eyes of a person rendered powerless by prolonged exposure to violence.

Transparent tears continued to fall onto his fingertips. His heart ached so much.

“You are stranger.”

“…….”

“You seem like someone who is broken somewhere.”

Their eyes met again. Aaron stared at his own reflection in the other’s pupils.

Deep green.

And the blue contained within those eyes.

Blue was the color he hated most. The father who was mad for Tory, the father who led Tory after he became a monster, the father consumed by the ghost of a royalty that had already ended. The father who had offered his entire soul for him and burned away.

“There is no need to look at me with those eyes. I am used to this.”

Tears repeatedly gathered and fell from the dark eyelashes. Watching the tears flow down the temples and jaw as if possessed, Aaron’s hand flinched again. For the first time, he thought the colors forming those pupils were captivating. No, perhaps it wasn’t the first time.

First, he had to tell this cowardly dog that this was no big deal. That it happened all the time, and it was just slightly worse than usual.

That this was nothing.

“……No one is used to pain.”

The wet eyes stared straight at Aaron again.

“No one is ever used to pain.”

The tightly closed lips held a sense of rigidity. A raw desire rose from the depths of Aaron’s heart. From the toes to the instep, to the knees, below the belly, through the chest, and up to the lips. Whether this burning thirst was because he had shed too much blood or for some other reason entirely, Aaron did not know.

You are a dangerous dog.

You will eventually ruin everything I have.

“Theodore.”

Once the boundaries collapsed, the only remaining emotion was a wretched, simple desire to embrace his bewildered dog. It was an urge born of an unknown origin. Aaron calmly wiped the tears from the dog’s eyes.

“You are my dog.”

The moment the green irises deepened more than usual, Aaron instinctively realized that the other felt the same way.

“Theodore.”

Theodore, Theodore. His fingertips tightened. The smooth cheek drew close without resistance. A heat that emptied the mind mingled between them. Lips parted, and hot breaths exchanged as the distance slowly closed.

“What are you doing? You have a severe fever.”

MacQuan looked down with a flustered face.

“You’re running a fever.”

“It’s fine.”

“But……”

The eyes scanning the wounds were drenched in pain.

“This is your fever.”

Aaron smiled quietly as he kindly informed him. It was a faint smile, still tinged with mischief. His scarred hand wrapped around MacQuan’s cheek again and pulled the face closer. The attempt to avoid it lasted only a moment.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I the only one who isn’t alright?”

A painful smile passed between them. Soft, supple lips touched lightly and then pulled away. Lukewarm tears stained the cheeks that had briefly met. Whenever their lips parted, hot breaths swallowed each other’s respiration. The act of carefully licking and sucking was closer to consolation than sexual desire.

“Please don’t be in pain.”

“…….”

“Please, do not be in pain……”

“Why do you keep crying?”

“I don’t know.”

Tears flowed again through the silence. The dog seemed like a person who had lost the way to control his emotions. Don’t be in pain. Don’t be in pain, please. The dog cried like a fool, repeatedly stroking Aaron’s cheek. Lips collided and parted again. The roughened skin chased the remaining warmth.

“Your name……”

A stinging heat circled the earlobe.

“Please tell me your name.”

Name.

Since regaining consciousness in the forest, he had never asked, and Aaron had never told him. He believed there was no need to know, nor any need to tell.

“Your name……”

The earlobe caught between his fingers was hot. The momentary taste of sweetness blinded MacQuan. The fact that the body was likely covered in wounds had long since vanished along with the fog.

“…….”

Aaron pulled MacQuan’s face closer again with force. The area around the eyes was still veiled in moisture. The dog simply would not stop crying.

“Please tell me your name.”

MacQuan requested politely once more.

Aaron Wizfeldon of Cornwall had many names.

Names made up randomly to hide his identity. Names used for trade, names created to hide his tracks two or three times over to get things done—pseudonyms that had perhaps been called more often than his original name. Therefore, he naturally intended to say one of those many aliases, but the name that actually escaped his lips was entirely different.

“……Aaron.”

He swallowed the ‘Wizfeldon’ and ‘Cornwall’ that he couldn’t bring himself to utter. Blocked by a pit of fire, no other words came out. A suffocating silence followed. After a while, their lips collided again.

“Aaron.”

“…….”

“Aaron, Aaron.”

MacQuan whispered Aaron’s name several times, like a child speaking a word learned for the first time in his life. At the sound of his name flowing like a lyric, Aaron smiled with satisfaction and rubbed his wet lips. Soft skin was pressed, and hard teeth repeatedly bit and released the lips.

As the time they spent facing each other grew longer, their breathing grew hotter. Eventually, an impatient tongue licked the lips lengthily. At the desperation asking for permission, Aaron decided to momentarily forget the dog’s impiety. Perhaps frustrated by the lack of full contact, MacQuan pressed his body closer and devoured Aaron’s lips and tongue.

“Aaron.”

Taking advantage of a brief separation, he called the name again. Neither of them allowed even a moment’s respite. They clung to each other again in haste, repeatedly sucking and biting the other’s lips. Tear-soaked cheeks were rubbed recklessly against Aaron’s face.

“Mmm……”

A dense moan erupted. His head tilted back involuntarily. Along the white, long nape of the neck, MacQuan repeatedly kissed and bit. Hair more red and brilliant than the wounds tickled the bare skin. At the sensation that was both painful and tantalizing, Aaron held the sun tightly against his chest.

“Theodore.”

The warmth heating his body was cozy. Not knowing what to call this sensation, he repeatedly called the name he had given the dog. Theodore, Theodore, Aaron, Aaron. Desperate calls poured out by his bedside. As if those were the only words they knew how to say, the words they uttered were nothing but each other’s names.

A prominent nose rubbed against the thin shirt. With a cautious touch, MacQuan laid his master down on the sheets. And he repeatedly kissed the thin cheeks and lips buried in the plush pillow. The more they touched, the more he yearned for it, like rainwater falling on land that had been parched for a long time. It was so sweet it was unbearable. And it was so sad it was unbearable.

Did I see you as an object of lust? Did I regard you so? Did I think of you that way?

The faint doubt soon vanished. There was no way it wasn’t so. Loyalty toward the master? The black demon in his heart clicked its tongue and mocked him. As if it could be loyalty.

Despite the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off him the moment he first saw him. Despite the fact that he had licked and violated him from head to toe with a gaze full of greed—that sight of him lying languidly under the afternoon sun singing, that voice, those eyes. Despite the fact that he had wrapped his feelings for his grumpy yet kind, cold yet warm master in layers of worry and pity, fearing that his rotten black heart might be discovered.

Heat spread through their entire interlocking bodies. A scarred hand, carrying a clear intention, dug beneath the other’s worn clothes. At the gesture brimming with desire, MacQuan finally looked as if he had regained his senses and hurriedly pulled Aaron’s wrist down.

“You cannot.”

He whispered low, his face unable to hide the heat. His voice was completely hoarse. Breathing slowly through the unbearable sensation, MacQuan rubbed his flushed face slowly against the fair nape of the neck before turning his chin to softly press his lips against the forehead. His eyes were still wet with moisture.

“I lost my reason and did something crazy. Forgive me.”

The tone he added was heavy with guilt. It was a statement that contradicted the state of the genitals pressing between his buttocks. Mocking that sight, Aaron licked the warm lower lip.

“It’s fine.”

“No more. We must treat the wounds first.”

MacQuan spoke firmly and kissed the tip of the pointed nose. His sunken voice was truly melancholy. The moment the body that had been pressing him warmly with all its might began to pull away, Aaron reached out both hands and wrapped them around the dog’s back.

“Aaron, don’t do this.”

“If we don’t do it right now, I’ll kick you out of here and do opium.”

“Aaron.”

“The torn parts hurt too much.”

“……Aaron.”

“Opium is quite effective in reducing pain.”

“Don’t say such things. Please……”

Their foreheads met again. Lips touched the slightly open corners of the eyes. To the temples, to the cheeks, to the ears—the lips played carefully, as if brushing a canvas.

“Then continue.”

“I hate that you are in pain.”

“……Hurry.”

“I really hate it.”

“…….”

“Aaron, I do not want to become like the people who hurt you.”

It was a sweet and painful whisper. Aaron smiled faintly and cupped MacQuan’s cheek with one hand. Eyes that could not hide their pain even slightly were looking straight at him. The emotions revealed in every expression and touch were worry, concern, and sadness, prioritizing over sexual desire. It was an emotion he had never felt from those who possessed only greed and calculation.

“How foolish.”

“…….”

Someone as weak as you could never become like them.

However, Aaron now had to admit it. The dog’s blind devotion had finally torn down the sturdy wall he had built for so long. An impulse surged, a desire to hide his body even within the ruined castle walls if there was a place to escape for a moment. It was a truly impoverished state. It did not take long to put into words the heart he had neglected without ever attempting to treat.

“I’ve never done it with a man.”

A heavily cracked voice escaped.

“But I know how.”

We’ll need oil. He whispered the last part into MacQuan’s ear with a mischievous smile. He hadn’t thought that the things he’d seen in the decadent social clubs he’d frequented so often would be helpful in this way.

There was a brief moment of contemplation regarding who would lead the act, but Aaron was relatively generous when it came to desire and pleasure. His thoughts did not linger. More accurately, due to the violence and verbal abuse that had continued throughout the afternoon, he didn’t even have the strength left to insert, thrust, and ejaculate. It was a night so exhausting that he even had the ridiculous thought of simply entrusting his weary body to the other and wanting to be comforted.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

The voice, struggling to suppress the heat and putting aside his own desire, sank heavily.

“I do not want to be another person who inflicts wounds upon you.”

“Right.”

Even then, the touch stroking the wounds was so cautious. Aaron found the man’s behavior—not knowing what to do in front of him—fascinating. That foolish dog had said he would kill the ghost of Cornwall that was strangling his neck. So readily, without a moment’s hesitation.

“You must tell me if it hurts. You absolutely must.”

“……I told you I would.”

He was a truly loyal and faithful dog. Aaron felt that the dog’s tears, crying in his stead, were, quite absurdly, lovely.

“Kiss me.”

“Aaron……”

The unfamiliar emotion he felt for the first time was uncomfortable. Without waiting, Aaron tilted his cheek and kissed the wet lips again. The sharp bridge of the nose touched his cheek softly. Soon returning to his usual arrogant expression, he gestured with his chin toward the table. On the old table sat the oil he had prepared to hide his hands, which had become dry after finishing his mockery.

“Ah……”

An uncontrollable moan escaped between his lips. His body instinctively curled up at the sensation of his lower half being forced open. Sweat-soaked blonde hair scattered messily over the pillow. Hot lips left marks along the long, curved nape of the neck.

“Does it hurt?”

Because he had poured an entire bottle of oil, the area below was already drenched. Thanks to the long time spent preparing, it was now quite easy to enter and exit compared to the beginning when not even a single finger could fit. Feeling the hole swallow his fingers with a squelching sound, MacQuan tickled Aaron’s earlobe with his tongue. As he hugged him from behind and lay on his side with Aaron’s head on his arm, their two bodies pressed together without a gap.

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“Ugh……”

His cool eyes grew hot with a mixture of repulsion and pleasure. Strength entered the hand holding the cigarette. Dry grass rustled beneath the sheets. At that sound, Aaron let out a chuckle despite his dizziness.

I ended up lying on this damn pile of grass after all.

“Aaron?”

“……It’s not bad.”

He answered after a long pause. After checking Aaron’s wounds once more, MacQuan felt relieved by the answer and pushed his hand in deeper. His genitals had long been erect to the limit, but he had no room to think of his own desire, remembering the need to loosen the area sufficiently. MacQuan repeatedly rubbed his nose and bit the sweat-soaked nape of the neck. It was strangely sweet. The excitement, unable to withstand the sweetness, rampaged again like a wild horse.

“The injured parts… how are they…… ngh.”

“It’s fine.”

“The wounds……”

He had finished simple treatment after persuading and persuading the man who insisted on proceeding as is. Nevertheless, fearing that it might worsen or get hurt, MacQuan carefully pulled Aaron into his embrace. The body, heated by bruising, was warm. With a piercing pain in his solar plexus, MacQuan bit his lip and focused on the ecstasy directed toward his master.

“Ugh……”

He moved his hand, which had been entering and exiting somewhat slowly, a bit faster. Aaron closed his eyes at the sensation rising from below. He grew hot at the lewd sound of oil and bodily fluids mixing. Every time a sensitive spot was brushed, hot breath poured from his parted lips.

“Ah, ngh.”

“Aaron…… Aaron.”

MacQuan called the partner held in his arms with a desperate voice. Because he had spent a long time clearing the path, the entrance was softly loosened, and his own state was at its limit.

“It has stretched enough.”

“……Right.”

Aaron struggled to swallow his wet breaths. Three fingers pushed in to the end, meticulously pressing against his inner wall. The hole, long tormented by men, felt quite open even to him. Amidst the slight shaking, ash fell from the Leaf-Cut Tobacco held between his fingers, which had been lit moments ago.

“It opens well.”

“Shut… up.”

“It’s opened wide.”

“Huu……”

The desire to pierce through immediately was felt vividly. To forget the unfamiliar discomfort, Aaron took a deep drag of the Leaf-Cut Tobacco with a troubled face. Sweat-soaked hair tangled messily over his forehead. Giggles erupted in between. It was a terribly low voice. The two genitals rubbed softly between their overlapping legs. By the time the area below became damp with the fluid he had leaked, another wave of stimulation hit.

“I will… enter slowly.”

“Just a little…… hngh.”

After a long wait, the remaining finger dug a bit deeper into the inner wall. At the feeling of his lower body filling up, his completely naked lower half trembled. Aaron gripped his half-undone shirt with both hands and curled his body further.

Even as he bit his lip, moans escaped on their own. Thanks to four fingers entering to the end, the folds and perineum were rubbed wildly by the firm palm. The sensation of his lower body opening completely made him feel a rare sense of fear. Feeling as if he might ejaculate at any moment, Aaron’s toes tightened further.

“Ugh, Theo. Theodore—!”

“Aaron, does it feel good? Does it not hurt?”

“Ah— aaah! Ah, ngh, mmp!”

“Does it hurt? Aaron, shall I go a bit slower?”

As he pressed deep inside and roughly rubbed the perineum, Aaron’s lower body, completely loosened, slumped helplessly. Squelch—slurp— embarrassing sounds filled the small room. Then, the fingers that had been diligently battering the inner walls were suddenly withdrawn all at once.

“Ah-ugh!”

The hole, which had held the fingers for so long, could not close and twitched. Aaron snapped his head around, driven by the sensation that had climbed to its peak only to vanish just before ejaculation.

“What… are you doing.”

His distorted eyes were drenched in unresolved desire. Just as he faced the irritation about to explode, a hot palm gripped both of Aaron’s hips again. A hot, slippery, yet firm object glided along the path nestled between the cleft, sending a chill racing up his spine.

“Will this really fit?”

“…I don’t know.”

“It’s opened up, but… it’s still too narrow.”

“…….”

“You might get hurt. Aaron, I…”

“Just do it.”

He remained lying on his side. Smoke drifted out again from between his slightly parted lips.

“…Would you mind spreading your legs a bit more?”

The palm rubbing his pelvis with a very clear intention gradually moved downward to knead his buttocks. He repeatedly spread them wide and then pushed them together until the hole folded vertically. In between, the white foam on the perineum created thin threads, making lewd sounds. The wet anus greedily opened once more.

“Wait, mm…”

A thumb pushed deep between the slightly parted folds. Since more fingers had been rubbing it until a moment ago, the hole swallowed the finger without difficulty. The sensation of playfully stroking the edge of the folds vanished again. His body writhed in desperation, almost making one doubt that this organ was not originally intended for insertion. Aaron reached back and grabbed MacQuan. He could feel the firm muscles and protruding veins vividly at his fingertips.

“Theodore.”

The master, drenched in pleasure, called his dog. The gesture searching for the member that would soon pierce him was pitiful. Seeing him crave something for the first time, MacQuan’s grip on the buttocks tightened. He rubbed the white mounds in a circular motion before spreading the flesh to the sides again. The hidden entrance revealed itself once more. The sight of it, wide open and drenched in saliva and oil, was more than enough to make one lose their reason.

A thirst that felt as if it were burning through his very windpipe dominated him. MacQuan swallowed a dry breath and rubbed his muscular thighs against Aaron’s lower body. The soft skin pressed pleasantly against his member. The oil, having completely lost its viscosity due to the heat, kept leaking from the hole. Under the illusion that it was semen flowing out, MacQuan slowly licked his lips.

“Aaron, the oil has melted so it looks like the fluids you’re leaking.”

“Mmm…”

“Can you feel it? Aaron, fluid is coming out of your hole. May I enter?”

Hazy smoke drifted from between those pretty lips. Aaron repeatedly took deep drags of the Leaf-Cut Tobacco and exhaled. The hand holding the cigarette trembled. Since it seemed like an attempt to soothe the pain, MacQuan hugged his master even deeper.

“If it hurts, I will stop.”

“No…”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I’m… permitting it, so enter… ah—”

The tip of the glans, which had been hovering around the area, touched the entrance of the inner wall precisely. A damp heat lingered at the slightly open entrance before it began to push its head in and press firmly. Feeling his lower half gradually widen, Aaron opened his mouth unconsciously.

“Ah-ut, ah… ah! Theodore!”

An uncontrolled moan escaped him. His eyes, wide with shock, shone a vivid blue. The member slowly invading the wide-open hole was incomparably hotter and thicker than the fingers he had freely held until moments ago.

“Nngh…”

As the blunt piece of flesh pressed deeper into the entrance, the hole widened bit by bit following the shape of the glans. It was a very slow and cautious process. Feeling the folds stretch to their limit, Aaron’s breathing gradually became labored.

“I’ll do it gently… so relax. Aaron, okay?”

“Ah, ah-ut!”

Following his heaving chest, MacQuan’s hand dove inside the half-stripped shirt. He felt the areola, swollen with excitement, atop the flat chest. The more he twisted the protruding nipples, the louder the moaning became. Unable to withstand the scent coming from the sweat-drenched back of the head and nape, MacQuan buried his face deep between the collarbones and slid an arm under one armpit, carefully pulling Aaron’s body close to him.

“Ah-ugh— ah— ah!”

“Huu, ha, ut…”

“It’s going in. Huu, Aaron. I’m entering you…”

“Aaah…”

Once the thickest part entered, the shaft slid in more easily. The insertion took a long time. With every push, it felt as though the inside of the hole was widening bit by bit. The inner walls, already slick with oil, finally swallowed the member entirely. It was a moment where the path opened up, slowly but all at once.

“Ah, aaah…”

“Haa. Ut.”

The sensation of their bodies rubbing together while the member was buried to the hilt was intensely primitive. MacQuan, unable to withstand the pleasure, swallowed his breath while carefully rubbing his sweat-drenched forehead against various parts of Aaron’s body.

“Are you alright?”

“…Yes.”

A large hand slowly stroked Aaron’s firm lower abdomen.

“I will go slowly.”

“Ugh… mm.”

Aaron exhaled sharply. The half-smoked Leaf-Cut Tobacco had long since fallen to the wooden floor. Hot breath continuously escaped the lips touching his ear. The feeling of pubic hair rubbing against the inner folds was coarse.

“Ah-ugh!”

After a while, the large body seemed to pull back slightly, then slowly thrust the hips upward again. As the firm testicles hit the perineum, the somewhat fleshy buttocks trembled and convulsed slightly. The rushing breaths were incredibly hot and erotic.

“Aaron.”

He pulled the fully inserted member out halfway. Feeling a constant thirst, MacQuan swallowed several times to moisten his dry throat. The senses of his entire body flared with terrifying clarity. He loved it, yet he was afraid. He feared that this illicit act fueled by desire might hurt his master.

“Please answer me.”

Desperation seeped through his questioning voice. Warm breath scattered across the cheek. Unable to wait for an answer, the member pushed back in to the very end of the inner wall. It was a pressure so vivid that he could feel the curve of it, a pressure that made it impossible to even breathe.

“Ah-ugh—!”

Aaron’s member, which had wilted from the shock of the first insertion, began to harden again. Under the light of the oil lamp, his slender body, devoid of any excess fat, writhed. The magic of the night was hiding the traces of violence to some extent.

“Aaron.”

“Aaah…”

He inserted it to the end again, deep enough to make a sinking sound. The speed was excessively slow. Aaron opened his mouth, craving the violence-like pleasure that had come to him. Ah— ah. As the number of thrusts increased, sweat from his forehead continuously dripped onto his cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

“Be… quiet.”

Throughout the insertion, MacQuan endlessly checked Aaron’s wounds. The small, sculpted face resting on his arm was drenched in sweat. It was a face that clearly displayed pleasure. Seeing the expression of ecstasy even amidst the distortion of pain, a swelling emotion that was hard to explain, separate from physical satisfaction, rose within him. Despite the feeling of blood rushing, MacQuan exercised patience to avoid speeding up on his own.

“Tell me. Huu.”

Mwah. Lips that gave a short kiss to the back of the ear began to toy with the earlobe and soft skin again.

“Stop saying the same thing…”

A low chuckle echoed softly. The sound of his powerless and lethargic master’s laughter hurt, and MacQuan unconsciously wrinkled the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t be in pain.”

At first, there were times he thought he was simply being mocked, but now he noticed the loneliness mixed in that laughter first. Even without being told, he could feel the pain and loneliness this person had endured. That made him feel more pity, more affection, and consequently, more love. He wanted to make him only smile. He wanted to eliminate everyone who tormented his master. MacQuan’s cheeks, shadowed by the light, were once again wet with tears.

“Why do you keep crying?”

“I don’t know. I’m just… angry.”

“You look ridiculous. Even a baby in a cradle wouldn’t cry as much as you.”

The cool eyes curved slightly. Watching that sight, more strength was put into the steadfast pillar. Aaah. An erotic moan escaped. Fearing that the wounds might burst if he moved too violently, MacQuan cradled Aaron’s head with one hand so it wouldn’t touch the coarse cotton sheets.

“…I’ll be careful. Your head mustn’t shake.”

The thick member repeatedly slid out and back in between the buttocks. When it went in to the end, he squeezed the buttocks tight, rubbing even the pubic hair, and when pulling out, he withdrew it to the tip of the glans to see the twitching hole. Aaron felt the sensation of the member inside his body with terrifying clarity. He could feel the shape, the thickness, and even the protruding veins.

Pleasure and pain were inversely proportional. As time passed, the pain was barely felt. Feeling unsatisfied, Aaron became irritable and even began to push away MacQuan’s sweat-drenched stomach.

“You’ll get hurt.”

“…Just do it.”

“You’ll get hurt. You can’t.”

“Aaah… hurry!”

At the powerless waving of the hand, MacQuan smiled silently and rubbed his forehead against the top of Aaron’s head. The hair shone more brightly the wetter it became.

“I can’t. Aaron, if I do it too roughly… ut.”

“Even while saying that, you…”

“…….”

“You too. Ut, from the start… weren’t you excited?”

The slightly spread legs trembled. The open mouth continuously exhaled heated breaths. At the dizzying sight, MacQuan closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. A ferocious and cruel desire surged.

He wanted to drive it in. Until it tore, regardless of whether it bled, he wanted to push it to the limit, pound it, and pour all his semen inside. He wanted to press that small head into the floor, crush his neck, make him lift only his buttocks, and charge wildly.

“When you’re all healed…”

“Ut, mm…”

“When you’re all healed, then, I’ll do as I please. Huu.”

While remaining lying on his side, MacQuan hooked Aaron’s left leg over one arm to spread it. His lips were nearly torn from enduring the desire to fuck him roughly. The sight of his member entering and exiting the secret place, where the folds had smoothed out, was laid bare. The junction repeatedly slid out and in following the movement. Mmm. Letting out a long moan, Aaron glanced at him.

“…You’re doing as you please even now.”

“Are you not permitting it?”

MacQuan laughed low and kissed Aaron’s sweat-drenched forehead. The fact that this was his first time with a man was easily guessable just from the master’s reaction. It was lovely how he tried to match the rhythm to feel pleasure, however clumsily. Every act of sharing sensation was ecstatic.

There was no repulsion toward a relationship with another man. There was only the desire to intensely crave and embrace this person, this beautiful body. Naturally accepting the inner desire, MacQuan inserted the erect member deeply once more.

“Ah-ugh!”

“Ut, Aaron!”

It was a slow but powerful force. Pubic hair rubbed until the buttocks turned red. As the insertions repeated, white foam and fluid leaked from the junction. There was no way to tell if it was oil or semen. Only the splashing sound of insertion, the moans echoing through the head, and the sounds filled with pleasure threatened the silence of the midnight. No one invaded the forest. It was a space where only two, only the two of them, existed.

“This is, strange… ah!”

“Aaron, ut, ugh!”

With the continuous insertions, Aaron’s member also began to leak fluid bit by bit. The hole, stretched to its limit, fluctuated. Even if he inserted slowly, he couldn’t control every movement. The oil smeared around the buttocks and perineum also created loud, squelching sounds.

“Huu…”

“Ah-ut—!”

Unable to endure any longer, MacQuan turned and pushed himself up. Even at that moment, the member remained inserted. Following him as he knelt and half-rose, Aaron’s position, who had been held, also changed. Before they knew it, one person was prone, and the other was kneeling. MacQuan pushed the member back to the end of the inner wall. Aaron opened his lips at the sensation of being fucked from behind and inserted deeply.

“Ah! Ah-ugh! Ah! Ah!”

“Aaron, Aaron.”

“Theodore, Theodore!”

The hands gripping the mat repeatedly lost strength and buckled. Along the deeply carved line of the spine, MacQuan’s large hand frantically stroked the sweat-drenched back. Even then, the attempt to protect the injured head did not stop. Lost in the sucking sensation, MacQuan wrapped his arm around Aaron’s chest and hugged his upper body tightly. Following the pull from behind, Aaron also half-raised his body.

“Your head, huu… lean it on me. Ut—!”

“Aaah, ah!”

MacQuan guided Aaron to lean his head on one shoulder so that the injured head wouldn’t shake. Damp skin repeatedly stuck to and detached from his palm.

“…Relax.”

Hot passion was etched onto the face where tears had stopped.

“I don’t… know… ah, aaah!”

As the back arched far backward, both buttocks rapidly converged. When the arm was pulled, he was buried to the hilt; when pushed away, more than half came out. Thanks to being bitten and sucked to their heart’s content, both nipples, fully swollen, glistened, drenched in bodily fluids. MacQuan’s member, completely buried in the sudden contraction of the inner wall, was also reaching its limit.

The roughened palm carelessly stroked Aaron’s fully erect member. It was a clumsy gesture, but the sensation, already expanded to the point of pain, provided extreme pleasure at the slightest stimulation. MacQuan pounded his member in, putting so much force that a cleft formed in the buttocks. Thwack— thwack— the lewd sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the space.

“Aaron, huu, Aaron, Aaron!”

“Ah-u, ha, ut, haah.”

It went in deep, came out completely, and then pierced to the end again. When he pushed in so deep that the perineum and testicles touched and moved his hips, Aaron also moved his body violently.

“Aaron, Aaron—”

“Stop. Stop… ah, u-ut. It’s strange.”

“What is it. What is strange?”

“Everything… ah, don’t press. Aaah!”

At the sensation of the blunt glans repeatedly stabbing the prostate, Aaron finally began to ejaculate while still holding the member. His entire body rapidly contracted and convulsed.

“Nngh, ah…”

He was trembling and feeling pleasure amidst the exhaustion that comes with ejaculation. At the force of his wrist being grabbed again, Aaron quickly turned his head. A hot gaze, not diminished in the slightest, pierced through the naked skin. The appearance of worrying about the rough act was gone, and a beast that had lost its reason was baring its teeth.

“Aaron, just a little. Just a little more.”

“Nngh, wait, wait, ut, wait!”

While ejaculating, the member again spread the hole and entered. Every time the sensitized flesh collided, the pleasure was terrifying. The fully hardened member carelessly moved in and out of the buttocks and around the hole. The bruise-covered body shivered. Hah, hah. Beast-like moans mixed together, unable to be sorted.

“Ah-ugh! Ah! Stop, stop! It’s coming out, stop it, stop… ah-ugh!”

“Aaron, hu, Aaron, Aaron!”

“Aaah— ah, ah!”

“Aaron, Aaron. Damn it, Aaron!”

Aaron, with his neck arched far back, forgot the pain and struggled wildly. Every time the member was inserted, his body jolted here and there. Following that vibration, Aaron’s member also shook uncontrollably, leaking semen. His face, unable to withstand the overflowing pleasure, distorted to the limit.

“Ah-ugh, ut, hah.”

“Aaron, Aaron!”

“Stop, ah— Theodore, Theodore!”

The more he struggled because he couldn’t ejaculate properly, the tighter the grip became. His toes and hands curled completely. As the squelching and wet sounds grew denser, the two entangled bodies clung to each other, craving one another. The buttock flesh tightly gripping the member could not withstand the violent thrusting and repeatedly bounced.

“Ngh, mm, aaah!”

“Aaron, aaah, it feels good. Haah—”

“Ah, ah-ut. Ah! Theo, aaah!”

Aaron screamed dryly with his eyes wide open. Following the strong insertions that crushed his body, bodily fluids splashed everywhere. The squelching entrance also glistened with the pre-cum leaking from the member.

Thwack— thwack— the member, which had pulled out to the boundary of the glans, was driven in strongly all at once, enough for the scrotum to collide. With the violently pounding insertions, the wide-open legs convulsed in the air. With the sensation of his vision flickering, his body, having lost control, cheered on its own. It was the signal toward the end.

“……!”

“Ut— kkh—!”

Only after burying the member completely in the other’s body until the very end did MacQuan also ejaculate without holding back. Haa, hah. The two sweat-drenched bodies clung to each other pitifully, panting for breath.

“Huu…”

A satisfied moan escaped. Even as MacQuan trembled and ejaculated, he repeated shallow thrusts in and out of the entrance. It was an act born of a greed to leave as much of his mark inside Aaron’s body as possible.

“Stop it…”

Aaron let out a pained sound, rubbing his cheek against the mat. His legs, spread wide for a long time, melted away helplessly. The entrance, severely rubbed by pubic hair and testicles, had long since turned a vivid red. Without removing their genitals, the two collapsed and lay overlapping one another. They had ejaculated so much that semen drenched not only the hole, the folds, and the area around the genitals, but also soaked heavily between the buttocks and thighs.

“Aaron.”

“Don’t call me…”

“Aaron, are you alright?”

Sweat continuously streamed down his white nape. He looked unbearably erotic. His body heaved with breaths that had not yet calmed from the orgasm. Aaron still kept his eyes closed. His tightly shut eyelids trembled.

Aaron, Aaron.

Sweet whispers tickled Aaron’s ear. The expression and voice were so desperate, as if those were the only words the man knew. Semen leaked from the entrance that still held the member, and his unsettled legs remained half-spread, making for a pathetic sight.

“Aaron…”

Rubbing the fluids that flowed continuously down the deep cleft and thighs with his palm, MacQuan positioned himself so that Aaron could use his arm as a pillow.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t control myself. I should have been gentler.”

“…Just stay still.”

Aaron whispered, his eyes still closed. It was difficult to immediately escape the lingering aftereffects of the intense pleasure that had struck his entire body moments ago. MacQuan obediently followed the command, holding him close for a long while.

“I apologize for acting on my own.”

It was an apology filled with self-reproach. Instead of answering, Aaron simply gasped for air. His downward-cast eyelashes trembled slightly. It took a long time before his panting breaths gradually stabilized. Feeling the air settle, MacQuan began to kiss the sweat-drenched nape. Before Aaron could feel any chill, a hot body pressed against him in an embrace.

“It’s strange.”

“…What is.”

“Everything. I never imagined I would end up in this kind of relationship with you.”

“….”

“I thought it was a feeling I dared not harbor.”

Waiting for Aaron’s condition to stabilize, MacQuan slowly continued to speak the words in his heart. Aaron. It was a name he had called dozens of times in just a few hours.

“But after kissing you, I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“….”

“Looking back.”

Aaron listened quietly to the voice filling the narrow space. He slowly rubbed the firm arm against his cheek. The touch of the smooth skin wasn’t bad. Occasional laughter was heard. The hand of the dog who knew no place was still slowly stroking his pelvis and lower abdomen with lingering longing. It was a lewd touch, as if sexual desire still remained.

“It was from the beginning.”

Aaron frowned slightly at the foreign sensation filling his body. MacQuan continued to rub his thighs with a brazen smile. Though it had subsided somewhat, his member was still half-erect. A hand, rough with scars, tapped the waist of the wicked servant. Despite the signal to take it out, MacQuan ignored it and rubbed his nose against him. The familiar scent of skin permeated deep into his lungs.

The beginning.

“I’ve been mindful of you since the first time I saw you.”

MacQuan recalled the moment he first met his master.

“We were both men, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

The sight of him leaning crookedly in an old chair, humming an unknown song while carving a piece of wood with a chisel; the bright, almost silver-blonde hair scattering white in the sunlight filtering through the window.

“Even when I tried not to look… my gaze kept drifting. I thought I was strange, but it was hard to control my heart.”

He etched into his memory the sky-blue lakes clearly visible through narrowing eyes; the man who was brazen yet arrogant, foul yet mischievous, and yet, the one who had saved him.

“…You were incredibly insolent for that to be the case.”

With a face full of drowsiness, Aaron muttered tonelessly. The sight of him yawning and rubbing his head against the arm was so lovely that MacQuan closed his eyes tight and suppressed his lust.

“Do you laugh when you wake up to find out the person is a servant?”

“Why a servant?”

“If it were a successful noble family, perhaps… but a poor sculptor servant is naturally despairing. There is no future.”

A short laugh escaped at the playful words. Rubbing his stiff eyes a few more times, Aaron yawned again. His entire body ached from the violence inflicted by his father and the aftermath of the intense sex, but his languid body craved sleep.

“Aaron.”

A heavy voice, different from before, called him. Aaron allowed the insolent dog to call his name several times, listening quietly to the resonance.

“Never go back there alone again.”

“….”

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The pleasure faded, and the hidden reality gradually revealed itself. The crimson lamp did not perfectly hide the records of violence carved into the pale body. The hair extending beyond the treated areas was soaked in blood, and dried bloodstains remained on the shirt thrown on the floor and across various parts of his hands.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

As the marks were revealed one by one, the anger he had forcibly buried surged again. MacQuan continued, suppressing his emotions with all his might.

“Still…”

Rather than asking who did it or why, MacQuan decided to think about the future. If his master had been left alone before indiscriminate violence until today, then after this night, he would stay by his side and block those beatings.

Either by taking the blows instead, or by killing the opponent.

A cruel and immoral heart laughed fiercely. There was no hesitation anywhere on his masculine and steadfast face.

“I will go with you wherever you go.”

“…Where exactly is ‘there’?”

“Whoever you meet, we can meet them together.”

MacQuan’s eyes, containing both purity and cruelty, shone dangerously. It was a need and a desire to never give the one in his arms to anyone.

“….”

“If there is anyone who harms you again, I will kill them then.”

Aaron shifted and turned his body. In doing so, the member filling him slid out. At the unfamiliar sensation, he let out a short moan and leaned his forehead against MacQuan’s chest. On a bed that was spacious enough for one but somewhat narrow for two, the two bodies faced each other, pressed tightly without a gap.

“Theodore.”

A voice that warmed the cool skin called MacQuan. He could distinguish the difference in his master’s tone well. When he called him a bit lower and more firmly, like this, there was always a high probability that the words following would not grant his wishes.

“Why not?”

MacQuan asked back before the other could reject him. Aaron shook his head silently.

“It’s dangerous.”

“What is? What is dangerous?”

“Everything.”

A shadow fell over the face full of wounds.

“There is nothing you can do anyway.”

“Being together will surely be more helpful than being alone.”

“The conclusion is the same. The only difference is that I only get hurt, but for you, it’s not just that.”

Aaron smiled bitterly and slowly stroked the dog’s back. What had started as simple interest was growing to a point where it was difficult to manage. Because it was merely a cheap deviation, nothing about it was meticulous. He thought that even if he were caught, he was just a gentry businessman selling opium, and he could simply handle it through Calvin or appease them appropriately. Or else, use Cornwall’s power to suppress it.

It was arrogance; it was conceit. It was a meanness that didn’t even deserve to despise his father.

Since he hadn’t tried to hide it, he had blurted out whatever came to mind at every moment. It was only a matter of time before this cheap and irresponsible prank, dismissed as amusement, was discovered. Noticing the anxiety spreading aimlessly, MacQuan gently patted his master’s bruised shoulder.

“Is it a burden?”

“…A little.”

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Aaron always found MacQuan’s sincere kindness awkward. It was ridiculous how he acted as if he had become something to him after just one sexual encounter, despite being someone who looked him straight in the eye and spoke his mind freely. A feeling of nausea rose in his cluttered heart.

“I might have to leave soon.”

Instead of cursing or slapping his cheek, Aaron answered with a nod.

“Leave this place?”

“Probably.”

No answer came. Where to go, or how to go. But one thing was certain. He could no longer leave the dog here alone. Rubbing his forehead against the slightly cold skin of the other, Aaron swallowed a moan.

“Do you need time to prepare?”

“I don’t know…”

“I will wait for you forever.”

The patting hand slowed down gradually. Aaron let out a deep breath. He liked the scent of skin mixed with sweat and the forest. He knew the dog in the cabin did not fully believe his words. But he also knew that he had no intention of forcibly digging up the truth.

“If possible…”

The deliberation wasn’t long. The night was long, and there was plenty of time to share body heat. An unnamable emotion kept touching his sharply honed reason. Perhaps the wounds brutally torn by his father’s hand had made him strange.

“If possible, I want us to be together for a long time.”

Us.

At some point, a piece of sincerity, carved and refined, came out of his mouth after long effort. It was a hint that it would end someday, but it was the best he could say in a situation where it was difficult to conclude what this relationship was.

After a moment of silence, MacQuan hugged Aaron even tighter and whispered secretly.

“I will wait.”

A dark energy lingered around his eyes. The green eyes, where a tender heart and a ferocious heart were mixed, were somewhat strange, but the stroking hand was nothing but tender. A warm kiss filled with consolation followed for a while.

“From now on, those who lay even a single finger on you…”

MacQuan trailed off for a moment and swallowed a deep breath.

“I will kill them all.”

Every single one.

At the added cruel words, the corners of Aaron’s mouth curled upward.

Aaron smiled brightly.

As if there were nothing happier than that.

“Those are words I like.”

A low laugh filled the space.

As if there were no words he desired more.

“Truly.”

His eyes shone brighter than the lamp.

As if there were no words that brought more joy.

Aaron reached out and pulled MacQuan’s face toward him. His features were deep and distinct, enough to want to leave them as a sculpture. The large body willingly approached.

‘My dog.’

The loyal dog lowered his upper body following his touch. Their bridges and tips of their noses rubbed lightly, and after sharing breath, a deep kiss began again. Slender legs wrapped around MacQuan’s firm waist. The night was long, and the cabin, free of intruders, was peaceful.

✧ ✧ ✧

The Duke of Cornwall’s expression as he received the report was calm, unlike usual. It was a dimness like the eve of a storm. Except for the trembling of his fingertips tapping the marble top of the console, he was controlling his emotions with extreme patience.

“Are you certain there is someone there?”

At the sharp interrogation, the person standing before him bowed low, unable to even make eye contact.

“Yes, it is certain. Smoke was coming from the chimney, and when the young master knocked on the door, someone opened it and supported the young master. It was a face I had never seen before, a man with red hair.”

“Hmm.”

“I couldn’t see well from a distance, but the interior was quite spacious. There was also a vegetable garden around the cabin, so anyone could see it was a house where someone lived. It appeared to be a temporary residence previously used by foresters.”

“I see.”

The hand stroking his mustache gradually slowed. His eyes, lost in thought, shone dangerously.

Compared to Winklear Forest, which had gentle terrain and abundant game, Ramdiff Forest—with its rugged terrain and many shrubs—was a territory he hadn’t paid much attention to. Because the territory was so vast, he had appointed separate foresters in the past, but it was a mistake to leave Ramdiff alone and only manage Winklear Forest due to various issues.

‘To think he was raising a bug in that gap.’

At the unimaginable situation, the Duke of Cornwall gnashed his teeth.

He first felt a sense of foreboding upon the report that Aaron had headed to the forest, without even properly treating his wounds, taking advantage of the time when the people in the mansion were asleep. Just in case, he had immediately attached a servant from the mansion to follow him, but the result returned even worse than expected.

“The young master did not seem to be in good condition. His wounds were deep, and he had lost a lot of blood. You must call him back to the mansion immediately.”

Bang—!

The sound of him striking the tabletop echoed in the reception room.

“Lower your voice.”

His bulging eyes looked as if they would devour the man. Most of the servants in the mansion already knew that the Grand Duke of England had abused his two children for a long time, but he believed he could hide all the eyes and ears of the world with his authority. The Duke of Cornwall continued fiercely, pressing the other down.

“Report the exact location of that cabin. Also, I warn you. If you let your tongue slip anywhere, you will pay the price.”

“Yes, yes. Of course, your Grace.”

“Leave.”

At the short command, the man finally looked relieved and hurried out of the reception room. The old Duke’s expression shone cruelly as he watched the flustered figure retreat. As the door closed and the footsteps faded, a presence was felt beside the cabinet.

“Did you know as well?”

Anger rose again in his eyes toward his gentle second son.

“….”

Calvin chose silence instead of an answer. He had heard nothing directly from Aaron. He had simply deduced from various circumstances that his brother was hiding someone in a place only he knew. Someone for whom he had gone to such lengths as to hide their hair color, hide their attire, create false witnesses, and ensure those witnesses left for a distant place.

The moment his patience for an answer ran out, the Duke of Cornwall threw the candlestick on the console without a shred of hesitation.

Crash—

The candlestick, hitting the wall right next to him, rolled across the floor with a harsh sound. The metal base and the candle scattered separately.

“So you knew and didn’t tell me, is that it?”

The hand filled with rage fumbled over the console again. He ruthlessly threw a desk clock decorated with ornate patterns toward his second son. At the impact hitting his chest, Calvin’s expressionless face distorted in pain.

“How dare you two deceive me?”

Finally, he picked up his favorite rattan cane. Uncontrolled impulses and emotions often turned Edmund Wizfeldon into a monster stained with violence, rather than a nobleman respected by society. The dark curtains blocked all the light coming from outside. It was the cloak of a monster trying to devour all the secrets of the mansion.

His strides toward his second son were very fast and rough. No matter how strong and young a child might be, they can never defeat their parent. He was a man who knew better than anyone how to neutralize an opponent’s will and force submission.

✧ ✧ ✧

From the box where he kept his working tools, an object he normally wouldn’t have cared about caught his hand. It was a small canvas, about the size of two palms joined together. His lips, pressed tight in concentration, protruded slightly. Aaron continued to rummage through the box. After searching for a while, as the necessary items appeared one by one, moments of joy passed over his expressionless face.

From a distance, the sound of an old door knocker echoed. It was so urgent and loud that it was practically noise. At the sound devoid of any patience, Aaron instinctively frowned.

“What.”

[May I come in?]

The voice separated by a single door felt quite distant.

“No.”

[I’m coming in.]

“Get out now.”

At the sign that the door was about to be opened at any moment, Aaron stood up abruptly and then sat back down. A pained moan escaped him. Because they had spent the entire night in sexual intercourse, the entrance still wouldn’t close properly. Even though a considerable amount of time had passed since the first time, he could not get used to the sensation of his body opening.

[Is something wrong?]

Having heard the faint moan, the dog beyond the door barked anxiously. He had thought of him as a dog so often that he had actually become one. Thinking such a ridiculous thought, Aaron braced his waist and stood up again. His eyebrows narrowed instinctively from the pain.

“Wait—”

Before he could finish the word, the door burst open. Unable to contain his irritation, Aaron fiercely threw the canvas he was holding toward the intruder.

“You couldn’t even wait that long!”

“I thought you might be hurt somewhere.”

“Get out!”

“Whoops.”

The canvas, hitting him squarely on the head and bouncing off, rolled across the wooden floor. MacQuan, who had already anticipated the reaction upon entering, picked up the fallen canvas with an indifferent expression.

“Judging by the strength of your throw, you don’t seem to be in pain.”

“Theodore.”

Despite the sharp tone, his steps into the studio were bold. With an extremely peaceful expression, he walked straight up to Aaron and reached out his hand.

“Give this to me.”

“What.”

“The things you’re holding.”

“…….”

Faced with such a bold attitude, Aaron handed over the fire tools without realizing it. He had missed the window to get angry, making it awkward to say anything now. Hmm. MacQuan tilted his head, surprised by the unexpected tools.

“Are you planning to paint?”

“Yes.”

“You said you were a great sculptor. Are you switching to being a painter?”

“…….”

Pressing his lips tight, Aaron pushed himself up again. He swayed for a moment, but a sturdy arm wrapped around his waist to support him. Accustomed to being served, Aaron rubbed his tired eyes.

“I’m exhausted, so get out. I’m sleepy.”

Perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived. It was just as he was suppressing a rising surge of irritability and leaving the studio.

“Or perhaps……”

The arm cautiously wrapped around his waist suddenly pulled Aaron into a tight embrace. The remaining hand holding the tools was captured by an even larger hand. In the soft air, a gentle, melting laugh flowed for a moment. MacQuan buried his forehead in his lover’s nape and whispered.

“Were you planning to paint me?”

It was a reaction drenched in joy. Unable to find a fitting answer, one of Aaron’s eyebrows rose slightly. On the other hand, MacQuan, with an expression full of happiness, repeatedly rubbed his forehead against the nape of Aaron’s neck and kissed him over and over. His curved eyes betrayed the sheer bliss he was feeling. Interpreting the ensuing silence in his own favor, MacQuan asked again.

“Do you remember the request I made back then?”

“…….”

“Please answer me.”

“……About what.”

“You remembered it. Didn’t you?”

His irreverent audacity was through the roof. Aaron looked down with an indifferent expression at the hand that had embraced him so freely. It was the same hand that had stroked and touched his body without a moment’s rest from last night until this morning.

“I love this so much.”

“You’re frivolous.”

“You can say whatever you like. Truly, I love this so much I can hardly bear it.”

Several days had already passed since they had secluded themselves in the cabin like fugitives. To the point where the awkward air that lingered after their first encounter seemed laughable, they were now familiar with each other’s skin and temperature. They kissed and entwined their bodies day and night. For Aaron, who had never been in a long-term relationship with one person, it was an unfamiliar experience.

“What do you love so much? It’s just a painting.”

“I know. I don’t quite understand it myself.”

Laughter, unable to hide the happiness, spilled over. MacQuan acted as if he had turned into a giant dog, embracing Aaron’s entire body, desperate to kiss every inch of him. Recalling the sensation of skin being traced, heat rose again in his half-open lower half. ‘Aroused’ was the correct term. Just one more time. Aaron chuckled to himself, thinking he must have gone mad.

Like a mad dog.

“Theodore.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly and bumped it against him.

“Yes.”

MacQuan, still hiding his expression with his face buried, answered in a low voice. Tapping the lowered red hair with his forehead, Aaron gestured toward the bed covered with a clumsy sheet.

“Is there any scented oil left?”

At the unexpected words, MacQuan’s eyes widened. His low laughter grew deeper.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“How could that be.”

As Aaron tapped near his waist again, MacQuan finally could not contain his overflowing emotions and turned Aaron around to embrace him. The paints and canvas fell to the floor, and lovely lips parted. Below, it was sufficiently hot. There was no longer any reason to hold back.

“Mm……”

With a soft moan, the slender body collapsed completely. The member that had been inside the body slid out slowly with a wet sound.

Unlike MacQuan, who worked outside the cabin all day, the body in his arms was extremely pale, which only incited more lust. The red, swollen entrance between the white buttocks and the dark-colored member that repeatedly entered and exited created a strange contrast. His eyes, watching the hole expel the semen he had released, became drenched in passion once more.

“Stop.”

Sensing the yearning gaze on the back of his head, Aaron stopped the impending act.

“I won’t put it in. I’m just looking.”

“Nonsense. I’d sooner believe a dog barking.”

Aaron fumbled on top of the old dresser next to the bed. Following his movements, semen continued to flow from below. A storm of lust raged.

MacQuan grabbed Aaron’s slender waist and turned him. The exposed hole was still open, leaking semen. At that ecstatic sight, he swallowed hard and re-inserted his half-erect member. Because they had been at it all day, the path was slick and open, welcoming the intruder with ease.

“Ah! You……”

“I’ll be quick. Forgive me.”

“Augh!”

At the feeling of coarse pubic hair rubbing against the folds of his perineum, Aaron frowned and gripped the dresser.

“Ngh, ah.”

The thick, long member went in to the hilt and then pulled out completely. The head of the member greedily pressed against the slightly open opening before finally pushing all the way in. The grip clutching the butt cheeks grew more intense. The internal walls contracted so tightly that it almost felt like the urge to urinate. The skin, pressed hard by the stimulation, flushed red.

“Aaron…… ngh, huff.”

“Augh, ah!”

“Could you lift your waist a bit more?”

“Ah, mm, stop. Ah, ah-ngh, ah……”

As the speed of the thrusts increased, the moans grew higher. The clumsily gripped dresser could not withstand the weight of the two and rattled noisily. His upper body collapsed completely, his chest rubbing roughly against the bedsheet. Matching the speed of the insertion, MacQuan repeatedly spread and closed the white buttocks.

It was becoming difficult to remain sane. A cruel impulse rose within him to devour every bit of the master’s body that had swallowed him whole. He had fallen for the other too quickly, too deeply. He knew such greed was dangerous, but there was no way to stop it.

Moistening his parched lips repeatedly, he rapidly inserted and withdrew his fully erect member. His member, thrust into the sacred mound, felt exceptionally violent.

“Aaron, Aaron.”

“Ah, haah.”

“Hngh, Aaron, are you alright?”

“Yes, ngh, so just do it properly.”

A large hand pressed down on the tilted shoulder. As the hot body overlapped behind him, the weight was felt fully. The body pinned under the massive frame struggled, but the hot inner walls pressed the member even more strongly. Sturdier, firmer legs entwined between the slightly parted legs.

The splashing sounds and the friction of skin hitting skin were explicit and obscene. The buttocks pinned under MacQuan’s thick body moved elastically or were pressed down in time with the speed of the member’s movement.

“Ah, mm, Theo, Theo. Ah……”

“I love this so much. Aaron…… it’s so tight… and warm. Huff……”

“Ah. A bit more. Mm, ngh……”

Semen flowing even during insertion thoroughly soaked the hole, the member, the perineum, the testicles, and the space between their legs. It was a messiness that defiled a pure body. Aaron shuddered several times at the violence of the friction.

Ah. A scream resembling a song escaped his lips. More, faster. Someone lost in ecstasy cried out. Come deeper, rougher, faster. Stir me up until my mind flies away, until my soul is defiled, until I’m a mess and can’t think of anything.

“Augh! Ah! Too much, hngh……”

“Lift your waist just a bit more. Yes, like that. Hoo……”

Even as the curved tip of the member poked randomly at various parts of the inner wall, Aaron’s member hardened far too easily. It was a body naturally lewd and lustful. Unable to withstand the feeling of being ruthlessly pierced, a rough sound climbed up his throat.

Aaron twisted his body and reached back with his right hand. The chest of MacQuan, drenched in sweat and pinning him down completely, and the heartbeat hidden within, were transmitted vividly through his palm.

“Shall I hold you? Will you come to the front?”

“Ah, ah……”

“Aaron, tell me.”

He could tell the other’s intention through the smallest gesture or glance. It was possible because all his sincerity and attention were focused on one place. At the touch that wanted to hold him, MacQuan pulled his member out completely and turned Aaron’s body. A wet, squelching sound naturally arose from the soaked hole.

“Hah, haah……”

“Hoo.”

Their unsettled breaths intersected during the brief pause. Faces drenched in pleasure and afterglow gazed at one another. As if he hadn’t just pushed him to the brink of madness, MacQuan carefully brushed back Aaron’s sweat-soaked hair.

Their gazes met with stark clarity. The elegant forehead and face were fully revealed. The coldness remained, but other emotions were now layered upon it, making any word or expression seem lovely.

“Could you open your mouth?”

“……How presumptuous.”

“You’re going to open it anyway.”

Firm fingers traced his cheek and the corner of his mouth. Aaron also gave a light chuckle and opened his mouth. Another hand wrapped around his neck and pulled.

“Mm……”

His head tilted, and hot lips rubbed together. The wicked tongue licked the lips, the roof of the mouth, and the hidden fire. Wet tongues entwined, and as the arms around his waist tightened, Aaron’s upper body lifted slightly. Not missing the opportunity, MacQuan thrust his member back into the half-open hole.

Thwack—! With an explicit sound, the feeling of the curved member entering to the hilt in one go made Aaron open his eyes and shake his head violently. Moans that couldn’t be formed into words were swallowed back into his throat.

“Augh! Ah! Ah!”

“Ngh!”

“Aaaagh—!”

MacQuan closed his eyes, suppressing the urge to ejaculate immediately from the strength of the inner walls tightening around his member. Their bodies, embracing each other face-to-face, were slick with sweat. Just before ejaculating, he stopped moving for a moment and rested his forehead against Aaron’s chest, breathing heavily.

“……I love this.”

“Haah……”

“I love it so much.”

The back, tight with muscle, panted urgently. The heart of the partner, startled by the sudden insertion, was beating wildly and fast. The hot thumping was proof of being alive and proof that this moment was real.

Blink, blink, Aaron’s eyelids slowly rose. Eyes that had been vacant from the shock of insertion gradually regained focus. As they locked eyes again, the corners of Aaron’s mouth curved slightly. While maintaining eye contact, MacQuan lowered his head again. Their faces drew close, and the tips of their noses pressed softly. The moment their lips met, their entwined tongues were sweet. Naturally, the two bodies collapsed onto the bed again.

“Move.”

The loyal dog faithfully carried out the command. The slender legs were pushed back until the knees touched the shoulders. As the body was completely folded, the member drove in to the hilt again. The semen-soaked member ruthlessly plowed and stirred the inner walls.

“Augh, ah, ngh!”

“Aaron, Aaron……”

MacQuan did not stop the rough insertions even as he kissed him repeatedly. Unswallowed saliva wet their faces, but neither cared. The unfamiliar pain soon turned into a hot pleasure that blinded them. In the embracing position, MacQuan gripped the hips moving back and forth to stay as close as possible, rapidly thrusting and pulling out.

“Ah, ngh, Theo, Theo, slowly… do it slowly. Ah!”

“I can’t. Hoo…… it feels too good inside you. It’s too… tight…… ngh.”

The bruise-covered body, unable to withstand the force, bounced up ruthlessly. As it bounced up and was then inserted to the hilt again, the sturdy lower body slammed hard against the hole. Due to the violent insertion, bodily fluids squelched and splashed everywhere. His waist bucked involuntarily, unable to overcome the pleasure.

“Ngh. Ugh, ngh! It’s too much, ahh……”

“Just a little more, hm? Just a little……”

The other body, pinned under the heavy frame, fluttered. Plump— plump, the explicit sounds were noisy. As the speed of insertion increased, the sensations became more acute.

“Aaaah—!”

The member pulled out of the inner walls that had been stirred to the point of whistling. While still lying down, both ankles were grabbed and the body was bent until they reached the shoulders. Before he could even feel the void, the thick member was roughly driven into the entrance that hadn’t even closed yet.

“Hah!”

At the pressure that made it hard to breathe, Aaron opened his eyes wide and writhed. Even as he repeatedly kissed the slender ankles, MacQuan did not slow the speed of insertion one bit.

“Hngh, ah, ah!”

“I love it, so much, ah— you’re too……”

“Aaaah!”

At the sensation of the member rapidly hitting the inner walls, Aaron hugged MacQuan with all his might and scratched his back ruthlessly. The desperate struggle to touch him even a bit more was poignant.

“Ah, ah! Too much, ah—!”

“Aaron, Aaron!”

“……!”

Thump. Thump. Their hearts beat heavily against their touching chests. Toward the end, not even a moan could escape. Though it felt as if the skin was being carved, MacQuan also made no sound other than moans of enduring pleasure. Only after relentlessly pushing and exploring the entire body did the two finally ejaculate.

✧ ✧ ✧

Tap, tap, tap.

At the sound of a knife prepping ingredients, thin eyelids struggled to open. The exhausted body would not move a single fingertip.

“…….”

As his vision gradually cleared, the back of the ‘dog’ sitting at the wooden table came into view. Various food ingredients were piled around him.

After watching for a moment, Aaron fumbled on the dresser and picked up a small canvas and a conté. Then, he lifted his upper body slightly and leaned against the headboard. MacQuan, perhaps deeply absorbed in cooking, was still prepping ingredients without looking back.

“Theodore.”

“Are you awake? Wait just a moment. I’ll have the meal soon……”

“Just stay like that for a moment.”

The attempt to immediately turn around and run over was blocked by a command that wasn’t quite a command.

“I understand.”

At the sulky silhouette, Aaron gave a short laugh and then picked up the conté. He looked back and forth between the canvas and MacQuan’s back for a while before starting the sketch. What he saw was a perfect back view, but the man in the canvas was at an angle where a tiny bit of his face was visible. It was a drawing based on memory. Even if it was only the cheek and the tip of the nose.

Suddenly, he remembered the drawings that had been miserably crumpled and torn. Among them was the face of his dog. It had only been a sketch, but since he had liked it, he felt a sense of regret. Of course, a drawing is something that can be redrawn at any time.

His indifferent expression became more solemn and serious as time passed. His eyes, which had been looking down carelessly, now focused entirely on the form gradually taking shape. Thin eyelids and lush eyelashes trembled slightly.

Because he was so focused on the painting, Aaron didn’t notice MacQuan had turned around to look at him.

“……What are you doing?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“You’re drawing, aren’t you? Is it me? May I take a look?”

“No.”

“That’s too cruel.”

“Stop talking nonsense and stay still.”

Though there was some distance, MacQuan knew that he was the model for the painting his master was creating. He wanted to run over and kiss him right now, and hold him again.

Knowing that the sensitive man immersed in his work would never tolerate such a distraction, MacQuan struggled to compose himself. Of course, it was difficult to control the corners of his mouth, which kept curving upward.

“Is there anything you want to eat?”

“Not really.”

“Shall I bring you some tobacco leaves?”

“……It’s fine.”

Even though he acted annoyed when asked questions, he always answered them.

MacQuan was happy with every part of his daily life with his master. However, equally dark emotions followed. On that night when they first gave their hearts and entwined their bodies, the scars that had been hidden by the darkness and the dim orange glow of the oil lamp were revealed more starkly under the bright sun. Those harsh traces might have been the brand his master had to endure.

“…….”

MacQuan pondered sincerely. How could he safely protect his ignorant and foolish master? How could he protect his master’s sharp and precarious pride without hurting it? How could he stop anyone from laying a single finger on that person? How could he, with his own hands, deal with those who hurt him.

How could he kill them.

MacQuan vaguely knew that Aaron’s fear and anxiety stemmed from him. At some point, his master began to want to protect the time they spent together. Even without words, the trembling gaze, the tightly closed lips, the quickening breath, the cold smile—every small detail said so. It was only because the other didn’t want him to know that he simply acted as if he didn’t.

For the stability of this arrogant and sensitive man, who was more unstable than anyone and had nowhere to lean his heart, he was more than willing to be a fool.

That was how much he wanted to be with him.

“Still, it’s better to eat something.”

“……Do whatever you want.”

The answer came in a tone that clearly showed he had given up. As expected, it was good. His master would act viciously, but in the end, he always gave in to him.

Putting aside his various thoughts, MacQuan focused even more intently on the cooking. His serious eyes and firmly closed lips gave him a neat, disciplined impression. He simply wanted to feed the food he had made to Aaron as quickly as possible.

✦ ✦ ✦

That lion shall bite off your head.

That eagle shall peck out your eyes.

And in the end, that spear shall pierce your heart.

The man exhaled a slow, labored breath. The butler gripped the door handle. As the door slowly creaked open to reveal a man, he finally forced the corners of his taxidermied lips upward.

✦ ✦ ✦

Westminster during the Opening Season operated more busily than any company in London. This year’s parliament saw particularly active lobbying from groups whose interests were directly tied to legislation, such as maritime trade, institutional investors, and great merchants. Bills that survived these various lobbying competitions and passed the House of Commons underwent several more readings before ascending to the House of Lords. In the House of Lords, members gathered in the White Chamber, crunching numbers over the introduced bills.

Contrary to the economic situation, which was advancing rapidly by the day, the political climate was unstable; the Chancellor of the Exchequer had already changed several times this year, even with the general election only a few months away. In this precarious state of affairs, the person most grating on the Duke of Cornwall’s nerves lately was Duke of Devonshire, Herald Lenzdoor, whom he met more often than his own family.

“Your Grace, I have already given you the same answer several times.”

“And I, too, have read every single word of the letter you sent me with great care.”

A tense conversation, with neither side willing to yield an inch, continued at a table set in the center of a spacious reception room.

“I sent that letter judging that it would be better to discuss the matter again in an informal setting rather than conveying my intentions to Your Grace through an official document, but…”

Hmm. Drawing out the end of his sentence, the Duke of Devonshire leaned on his cane and looked straight ahead. After a long pause, he opened the door to the deal with an expressionless face.

“Your Grace, I will get straight to the point.”

The Duke of Cornwall, making no effort to hide his discomfort, frowned deeply and jerked his chin as if to say, go on then.

“I wish to find the body.”

“The body?”

“Literally, the body of MacQueen Lester.”

At the somewhat violent expression, Cornwall’s face crumpled in displeasure.

“Are you suggesting that I am hiding the corpse of that vulgar businessman on my estate?”

“Of course, I know that Your Grace would not do such a thing.”

Though they shared deep mutual hostility, they had rolled around in the political arena together for so long that they understood each other’s characteristics and tendencies; thus, a basic level of trust existed. Unlike personal dislike or ideological differences, from a human-to-human perspective, the Edmund Wizfeldon that Herald perceived was not a mean or sinister man.

In the first place, the possibility that the Duke of Cornwall was involved in MacQueen Lester’s disappearance was very low. However, regardless of such trust, all circumstances and evidence pointed to the fact that MacQueen Lester might, in some form, remain somewhere within the vast forests of the Northampton Estate.

“Then I fail to see why you must repeat a request I have already refused.”

At the harsh reaction, the snake-like eyes of the Duke of Devonshire curved. When it came to handling people and grasping psychology, the seasoned Devonshire was a step above the simple and impulsive Duke of Cornwall.

“I only ask for your understanding. To speak of it now, Representative Klaus was preparing to be engaged to my adopted daughter.”

“Good heavens.”

The Duke of Cornwall’s eyes widened at the unexpected revelation.

“Since significant matters between families were exchanged, should we not do everything possible to at least confirm whether he is alive or dead? Since his disappearance, my daughter has been completely heartbroken and has returned to her sickbed. Please help me fulfill the minimum role of a father.”

It wasn’t the official conclusion, but there was no reason to hide it now. Devonshire was already keeping in mind the possibility that MacQueen Lester was dead.

He was a brilliant man.

If he were alive, it was impossible that there would be no word after several months. He would have signaled his location and requested help in some way.

The death of a young and capable businessman was a very regrettable loss of a pawn. Of course, there were still paths forward. Considering the positive impact the measures he was currently taking would have on his future relationship with Klaus Diugen, the Duke of Devonshire was willing to endure such hassle and effort.

“It is a pity, but that is no reason for my family to endure an insult.”

“Duke, discussions are already underway with Sir Norman, and Chief Gregory is also aware of this fact.”

“I hope you do not think that coordinating with such insignificant creatures will have any influence over me.”

“Your Grace is well aware that once a search warrant is issued, forced execution is possible. While I am keeping quiet for now, eventually I will have no choice but to inform the Royal Family. Even if you refuse until the end, that act itself will spread to the organ newspapers and the press. You wouldn’t want such a worst-case scenario, would you? Nor would I.”

Devonshire, keenly observing the other’s expression, began to offer a conciliatory tactic.

“Therefore, I merely suggest that we each take a step back from the point where we can most reasonably compromise. If we act now, we can end this matter with the London and Northampton police cooperating to search the forest. I promise to wrap this up as quietly as possible.”

“…….”

“With the election approaching, there is no need for the names of your Grace’s family and mine to be tossed around in public opinion, is there? Though the paths we pursue are different, I believe our relationship is not so strained that we cannot manage this level of cooperation.”

An aged fist, unable to overcome the flow of time, trembled. Gripping the armrest of the chamber chair so hard it nearly broke, the gentleman swallowed a deep groan. It was a headache of a situation, but ironically, it wasn’t the worst.

“……I have a condition.”

After a long while, the Duke of Cornwall spoke. The short answer carried the weight of long deliberation. The corners of the Duke of Devonshire’s mouth curved slightly, having foreseen the words that would fall from him.

Upon stepping out of the carriage, the Duke of Cornwall entered Pellington Hall immediately. The servants, sensing the head of the house’s mood—which was markedly different from the morning—moved swiftly.

“Calvin! Calvin!”

An urgent shout rang out loudly. Seeing his son rushing toward him from a distance, the old Duke tore off his frock coat with a rough hand and threw it to the floor. A waiting maid quickly tidied the outer garment and stepped back.

“You have returned.”

Calvin, who approached in a single stride, had wounds scattered across his face. The Duke of Cornwall looked at the sight with indifference and patted his son’s shoulder hard.

“Prepare yourself; we will depart for Northampton as soon as the business in Winchester is finished. You will come with me. As quickly as possible. If you conspire with Aaron to deceive me again this time, I will excommunicate you immediately. Keep in mind that there will be no more forgiveness.”

At the rapid succession of orders, Calvin’s complexion grew even darker. He realized that he had reached the limit of his ability to stop his father.

“……I will prepare.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The cooking was crude. The roasted potatoes were under-seasoned, and the bacon was burnt to a crisp, ruining the texture. No matter how one looked at it, it was a mess of a meal, yet the expression of the person eating remained calm and unchanged.

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat it.”

MacQueen pushed the egg dish—the only successful part—toward Aaron.

“Not really.”

He accepted it without any particular refusal and began to eat slowly with a fork. MacQueen watched him with a curious look, resting his chin on his hand.

“Does it taste okay?”

“Passably.”

“At first, I thought you were a picky eater. You hardly ate anything I made.”

Chewing on the burnt bacon, Aaron glanced sideways. He swallowed the food in his mouth and lightly moistened his throat with Sherry Wine.

“I only eat because I need to. Taste isn’t very important.”

“That’s why I find it surprising. You look like someone who would only eat food made by a royal chef.”

“You keep talking nonsense.”

With a look of genuine exasperation, Aaron stood up and turned toward the workshop.

Click.

Upon opening the door, he was greeted by a cluttered, unorganized space. Aaron carefully selected the dyes, oils, and paints needed for his work from the material boxes. As he settled back in and began squeezing oil and paint onto the palette, the sound of the door opening echoed, as always. Even though he had half-given up on this rude intrusion, his brow furrowed automatically.

“Now you don’t even knock.”

“You tell me it’s no use knocking anyway.”

MacQueen, carrying an orange and dragging a chair, sat closely right behind Aaron. Aaron glanced at him and responded by shaking his head.

This person is allowing me into his space.

He is accepting me.

As if the time he had thrown a tantrum and slapped him just for glancing at a piece of art was a distant memory, he might scold him now, but he no longer chased him away.

His heart swelled at that minute change. Unable to overcome the surge of emotion, MacQueen hugged Aaron from behind.

“What are you doing?”

“Just for a moment.”

“Enough. There has to be a limit.”

“Just a second.”

“……I don’t know what to do with you.”

That familiar light sigh escaped again.

“You smell nice.”

A scent of herbs wafted from the crisply dried shirt. Even as he rubbed his cheek against him for a long time, there was no sign of a harsh hand flying his way. It was truly a remarkable improvement.

Watching the hand silently mixing colors while being hugged, warmth spread across MacQueen’s eyes. He loved the image of himself painted on the canvas. He loved it so much that he didn’t know how to put this feeling into words.

“Are you painting the eyes today?”

“Somewhere else today.”

“It looks like me, yet it doesn’t feel like me.”

“I’m not that great at painting.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that the way others see me feels somewhat unfamiliar.”

Just a little. It was a back view, but the face revealed by a slight turn to the side was truly only a tiny bit. Wondering if the figure in the painting was really him, MacQueen merely fiddled with his own red hair.

“Please paint my front view next time.”

Aaron watched the painting for a moment with a thoughtful expression, then slowly nodded.

“Alright.”

How could that short answer, delivered after such a long silence, feel so wonderful? To swallow his laughter, MacQueen buried his face in the herb-scented nape of the neck he had embraced for a long while.

“I wish you would stay here for a long time. Without the need to sell your sculptures. We could go out together to buy simple materials.”

Taking advantage of the peaceful atmosphere, his poorly hidden true feelings slipped out. At those words, Aaron smiled bitterly and tapped the red crown of the head that was bothering him.

“We’d both be well on our way to starving to death. Where would the money for materials come from?”

It was a cold answer, but knowing the faint tenderness hidden within, the disappointment vanished quickly.

“Still, it’s good that you’re staying for a long time.”

It had already been nearly a month since the master had stayed in the cottage. Though he occasionally went out to the city, he never stayed longer than half a day. Fearing that something like last time might happen again, MacQueen had asked to accompany him. However, whenever he did, Aaron would close his mouth with a troubled expression, so he couldn’t force an answer. He was simply relieved that no more wounds were increasing.

“I prefer the painting. You always hurt your hands when you work on sculptures.”

“That can’t be helped.”

“Inhaling too much stone dust is bad for your breathing. You always say your throat hurts.”

“That also can’t be helped.”

A light conversation continued. It was a peaceful time. Watching Aaron, who was absorbed in mixing paints, with love, MacQueen wore a smile like a flower in full bloom.

“Get out now.”

“I told you I don’t want to.”

“You’re in the way.”

“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

“Sigh……”

Except for the times they went out, the two were always stuck together. As if awakening to sexual intercourse for the first time in their lives, they would strip and engage in frantic relations whenever their eyes met. Except for sleeping and working hours, Aaron’s legs were never closed.

Before meals, after meals, while washing or resting, or even in the middle of a conversation, MacQueen would pounce, and Aaron would willingly spread his legs to greedily devour the large member. With just a little pressure, that narrow hole opened softly. He couldn’t stand how lovely the body, now completely accustomed to him, was.

“I want to watch. It’s me, after all.”

“……Do whatever you want.”

Clearing his dry throat with a fake cough, MacQueen pulled his chair even closer. Aaron, having achieved the desired color to some extent, began to brush. The face looking straight ahead had improved significantly over the past few days and was gradually returning to its original form. Above all, it was largely due to MacQueen’s devoted care.

“Eat while you work.”

“It’s a hassle.”

At the low touch that disrupted his concentration, the master slightly furrowed his brows. Anyway, the master never granted permission immediately, no matter what he said. MacQueen smiled brightly and handed over a peeled orange with skillful hands.

“At least eat an orange.”

“Your hands are dirty.”

“Just open your mouth. I’ll put it in for you.”

“You’re in the way, go away.”

Aaron firmly pushed away the irreverent hand. The glance he cast was somewhat fierce.

“How cold.”

“Don’t touch me anymore.”

He didn’t forget the final, chilly reprimand. One might have shrunk back, but MacQueen knew well that he could not be cruel to him until the end.

“You need to eat well to recover quickly.”

“I told you, just that much.”

“Just a little more.”

“You……”

After a few more pleas, he finally opened his mouth and accepted the fruit with a look of utter annoyance. He seemed to strongly dislike it, his brows furrowed deeply, but the master no longer rejected him.

I want to kiss him.

He wanted to enter that hot body hidden beneath the cold exterior right this instant.

It was a severe case. Overwhelming emotion burst out of his heart. MacQueen didn’t know how to use sophisticated words. He probably was the same before he lost his memories. Otherwise, how could expressing just a part of one’s heart be such a difficult task?

“Have I told you this before?”

“What?”

Returning to a peaceful expression, Aaron began brushing the canvas again. Whether sculpting or painting, once he started working, Aaron immersed himself in the task as if his soul had been stolen. Truly desperately and earnestly. Sometimes, he poured all of himself into the work to a degree that sparked jealousy.

If there is something that takes you away from me… it wouldn’t be a person, but a sculpture.

“I like you.”

Taking in every feature of the master’s face, which was even more refined than the painting, MacQueen carefully revealed his true feelings.

“Sincerely.”

At the heart that reached him in a straight line, the expressionless face wavered. A dry breath cut through the silence. The freely moving brushstrokes stopped instantly. After a long time, Aaron slowly spoke.

“You speak prematurely.”

“Aaron, I…”

“What do you know about me? If you’re saying that just because we’ve had sex a few times, it’s an incredibly hasty thing to say.”

Since it was an expected reaction, MacQueen wasn’t hurt. Rather, knowing that he must not step back just because he was pricked by the thorns the other emitted, he slowly shook his head.

“It’s not like that.”

His master was accustomed to giving wounds and insults to others, but was far too ignorant when it came to receiving sincere goodwill and affection. Because he didn’t know, he interpreted it more sharply and accepted it more distortedly. Like someone who had never experienced it.

MacQueen found Aaron’s awkward and clumsy attitude heartbreaking yet lovely. He loved that unrefined immaturity. Because it led to the petty thought that he might be the first person to ever convey such emotions to him.

Fiddling with the half-peeled orange, MacQueen continued.

“One can feel this way even without knowing anything. Such emotions can arise anytime. You don’t necessarily need to know everything about a person to like them.”

“……Those are words lighter than a feather.”

“You seem to know even less than I do, and I’ve lost my memories.”

Aaron no longer gave a thorn-filled answer. Instead, he put the brush down completely and simply looked down at his own hand.

“I want to get to know you, one thing at a time.”

Finding the wavering eyes and awkwardly stiff expression so lovely, MacQueen tossed the orange aside and hugged his lover.

“I want to get to know you.”

The one who saved me.

My master.

Desperate whispers continuously tickled his ear. The man listening to the endless, sweet confession swallowed his breath in silence with a clumsy expression.

“Despite not even remembering.”

“I have no need for past memories.”

MacQueen spoke firmly and grasped Aaron’s hand. He had no lingering attachment to the lost past. The present in which he breathed and the future he would live were more important. He wanted to maintain a longer, more precise, and deeper relationship with the person he was with now.

“You shouldn’t say such things carelessly. You have a tendency to speak too easily.”

Aaron spoke in a somewhat sullen tone. Disliking that, MacQueen spoke firmly once more.

“No, I have no need for them.”

“…….”

“The past is just the past. I believe the present and the future are what matter.”

“……Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

Directly contradicting something said once before, MacQueen met the other’s eyes, matching his breath.

“I will stay by your side. Not just for as long as possible, as you once told me… but forever.”

A heavy breath led to the thumping of a heart. A palm slipped through the gap of a shirt that had opened before they knew it, stroking down the chest. It did not take long for the clothes to be stripped away.

Leaving behind a heart that felt increasingly stifled, Aaron wrapped his arms around MacQuan’s firm neck. It seemed unlikely that he would be able to finish the painting today. A long night awaited them.

✧ ✧ ✧

As is often the case with life, the moment of tragedy arrived abruptly.

Returning to the mansion to gather food and medicine, Aaron was faced with a single letter, tightly sealed with wax. The sender was Caliven Wisfield, and it bore the stamp of the Royal Mail.

…was the case. I do not know by what means, but my elder brother and father have become aware of the existence of the hideout within Ramdiff Forest and that someone is living there. The police are expected to intervene in the near future. I intended to head down to Northampton immediately, but I am temporarily tied up due to the Rodinton matter, so I plan to depart by train from Winchester in ten days. Furthermore…

While reading the letter, Aaron’s eyes shifted to the postmark date, filling with bewilderment.

“When did this arrive?”

“The postman brought it via express about ten days ago.”

“Why was this not reported to me?”

The chilling question echoed through the room. Bernard swallowed hard and answered immediately.

“I did inform you at the time that a letter had arrived, but you left for Ramdiff Forest immediately. I could not check a letter addressed to the young master without permission. I am sorry.”

“….”

A baseless rage burned in his chest. He knew it wasn’t the servant’s fault. He was the fool. He had been spending his days in a daze at the cottage, oblivious that a new letter had arrived long ago. Whatever he planned, time was pressing.

I am trying to delay it as much as possible, but it will not last long. Please be careful, brother.

His fingertips trembled slightly, despite his facade of composure. Suddenly, Aaron realized he hadn’t touched opium for quite some time. When was the last time he had been intoxicated? Whenever he used opium, he felt bothered by the dog who looked at him as if the world were ending, and in postponing it for a day or two, he hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

Anxiety seeped through the gestures of his hand as he repeatedly brushed his lips and cheeks. After a moment of contemplation, Aaron walked with hurried steps to the console drawer and pulled out his opium case.

“It has been quite a while since you sent Collins to the station, so considering the train schedule, he should arrive soon.”

Clang! A sharp sound broke the silence. A cigarette filled with opium rolled across the floor.

“Is it already time for him to return?”

“Yes, yes. He left a long while ago, so perhaps…”

“I shall visit the forest for a moment.”

“The forest? But young master.”

“I will return before evening.”

“Young master, it is almost time for the Duke to arrive.”

“Tell my father that I have gone to a gathering.”

“Young master, this will be a disaster. Please, just bear with it for today. Young master!”

Aaron brushed off Bernard’s attempts to stop him and hurriedly slung a bag that was partially packed over his shoulder.

“….”

His steps, about to rush out, hesitated for a moment. Many complex thoughts intertwined across his face as he looked at the tightly closed door. After a short silence, Aaron spoke again.

“Leave.”

“Young master…”

“I said leave. I have things to think about.”

“…Very well.”

The seasoned butler, judging that he must not further provoke his young master’s mood, left the room.

Thud.

As soon as the door closed, Aaron began to rapidly ransack the cabinets, drawers, and safes.

He had to find valuables that could be converted into money.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much liquid cash available immediately. Regardless of the type, Aaron shoved everything he could find into the bag. Since there were jewels among them, he could secure a certain amount of pounds if he traded them as stolen goods in a pinch. His tightly pressed lips turned red.

The price for that trivial prank.

A prank he had no intention of properly hiding or perfectly concealing.

Even while frantically packing, a hollow laugh escaped him. He had no plan. Where was he supposed to send him? How would he live, and what was he to do about the memories and the issue of the disappearance?

Aaron found the entire situation so absurd he couldn’t help but laugh. He felt pathetic for the past time that had been riddled with loopholes. From the beginning, it had been a whim utterly lacking in substance. He had thought that if he were caught, he could simply discard it, so he had no preparations or plans; it was a miracle he had managed to hide it for several months in the first place.

“Have I ever told you?”

“I like you.”

Someone’s emotions, whose weight was hard to gauge, throttled his neck and pressed down on his shoulders. Aaron recalled the dog in the cottage who had always looked at him with a steadfast gaze. That man was different from those who admired, despised, or feared him—the version of himself that was merely a constructed shell.

Though it was due to false information, the foolish dog had seen him simply as a poor sculptor in the forest. Nothing the Wizfeldon family possessed was a threat to the man, nor could it make him submit.

Intoxicated by the comforting embrace the dog provided, he had laid bare his dark and twisted interior without reservation. He revealed to him the hideous side he had shown to no one else. He acted more cruel, more brutal, and more despicable.

They shared hidden secrets, and they shared time and place.

They shared memories.

He clenched his trembling hands tight. The extreme anxiety and the wavering heart gradually began to settle.

He is still my dog.

He ground his teeth harshly. Aaron muttered once more in his heart.

The man was still his dog.

✦ ✦ ✦

Contrary to the expectation that he would be lying in bed, the master of the mansion was standing upright. The man, who had entered the bedroom guided by the butler, also stood straight-backed to face him. Eyes devoid of emotion moved with an agonizing slowness. Over the face, the features, and the bandages wrapped around the wounds. After a long while, his gaze finally came to rest on the red hair, which resembled poppy petals scorched by the sun.

After a brief pause, the man strode forward and reached out his hand.

✦ ✦ ✦

Bang—

Before he even had time to be startled by the sound of the door being flung open, Aaron walked quickly toward the table. His stumbling steps were fraught with bewilderment and anxiety.

“Have you finished your business already? You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

MacQuan half-rose from his seat, welcoming the man who had returned sooner than expected. His attempt to embrace him failed the moment he noticed the other’s deathly pale complexion.

“Is something wrong? Why do you look like that?”

“Theodore.”

The voice calling the name trembled violently. Theodore. A desperate incantation circled that name over and over.

“What happened?”

Sensing the ominous atmosphere, MacQuan grabbed Aaron by both arms and pulled him against his chest. Unlike usual, his master followed into the embrace far too easily. The sound of a heartbeat, so loud it felt as if it might burst, was clearly audible through the fabric.

“Calm down.”

“…….”

“Aaron. Calm down and look at me.”

“I…”

“Aaron, breathe slowly. Please, okay?”

Aaron, Aaron. The dog called his master with a soft smile, his voice infinitely tender and filled with precious affection. His pale eyelashes fluttered. Aaron blinked frantically, staring at the wide-open door.

“We have to.”

The trembling did not subside as time passed. It was a fear he had never felt, even while enduring countless acts of cruel violence at the hands of a monster for a very long time.

“We have to leave this place.”

Aaron recalled the well-kept exterior of the cottage just before he had stepped inside. The ruined fence had been repaired, and a small vegetable garden had appeared in the clearing. It was evident that broken parts here and there had been clumsily patched and fixed; anyone could see it was a place where people lived.

In just over half a year, their secret space had changed in so many ways. The place where he had once hidden alone had long since transformed into a space where two people lived together.

“Until when should I prepare?”

MacQuan did not ask for the reason. He simply smiled, indicating he would follow whatever word was spoken. The face looking at Aaron was full of trust and an even deeper affection. Despite the fact that it might all be a lie. Pained by the prospect of facing a truth that had already rotted, Aaron closed his eyes tight and rubbed his forehead against MacQuan’s shoulder.

“Now.”

His cheeks quivered because he was clenching his teeth. He didn’t know how to overcome this unexpected situation. The dog’s memories had not yet returned. In this state, he couldn’t send him back.

No.

His stiff lips trembled. His sharp eyes gleamed venomously. The lingering, clumsy guilt vanished in an instant.

He wouldn’t send him. There wasn’t a shred of intention to do so. He would simply create a new dwelling and lock the dog inside.

In a place made by his own hands, where the dog would wait only for him and meet only him.

…So that no one could ever hurt you.

“We have to go right now.”

The resolute tone signaled the gravity of the situation. Though there was much he wanted to ask, MacQuan silently nodded in response. It wouldn’t be too late to ask once they moved their residence as the other desired and the situation calmed down. There was plenty of time left, and he did not doubt the fact that they would be together during that time.

“I will prepare.”

Though it wasn’t a fully equipped place, there were quite a few items the master had brought over the time. While MacQuan pondered what to pack first, the man, who had pulled away from his embrace, handed him a leather bag.

“No preparation is needed. Take this.”

“What is this?”

“Jewels that can be turned into money, and…”

“Money?”

“There is some simple food, so it should be enough until you get out of the forest.”

Trembling hands repeatedly pushed the bag toward MacQuan’s chest. He felt a strange sensation. MacQuan pondered the reason for this dissonance for a while, only realizing it after hearing the following words.

“…Am I going alone?”

In the urgent words, there was no mention of a plan to stay together. From beginning to end, the only person leaving the forest was MacQuan.

“I’m asking if I’m going alone.”

“That is…”

Before he could answer, the faint sound of a horse’s neighing echoed from somewhere. Both men turned their gaze toward the entrance simultaneously. Judging by the direction of the sound, someone was clearly riding a horse toward the cottage. The intersecting sound of hooves indicated it was not just one person.

‘Did they already know the location?’

Aaron closed his eyes tight against the surging regret.

The choice to avoid riding a horse so that he couldn’t be easily tracked had only resulted in wasting time. It was a wretched miscalculation.

“Theodore.”

Pale as a ghost, Aaron urgently grabbed MacQuan’s wrist and led him toward the workshop.

Screech—

The lock opened, revealing the dark interior of the workshop. Aaron blindly pushed MacQuan, who was holding the bag, inside. Despite the difference in height, MacQuan’s body swayed from the rough push.

“Aaron.”

“Don’t turn on the lights. Just walk straight ahead. You’ll find a curtain, and there’s a small door behind it. If you open that door and go out, it leads straight to the birch forest behind the cottage. Just run straight. There’s only one path, so it won’t be difficult.”

Aaron paused for a moment to catch his breath, which had grown ragged with tension. The hand gripping the other’s arm trembled violently. Not ignoring the symptom, MacQuan took the master’s hand and enclosed it within his own. Pained by that warmth, Aaron furrowed his brows and continued.

“As you keep going, the path will split in two. When you turn left, there will be an untended brush path. If you enter that path, you’ll encounter about three more splitting points. Each time, check the compass and enter the northern path with the most brush. If it’s too dark, it’s better to hide in the brush and move when the sun rises. You must not take the lamp. You must move by the moonlight alone. I’ve put the compass inside.”

As he continued the explanation, the trembling gradually subsided. Aaron checked several more times to ensure the other was holding the bag securely and pushed MacQuan.

“I will not go alone.”

Despite the forceful push, the sturdy body did not move an inch.

“Don’t be stubborn!”

“I won’t leave you behind.”

MacQuan answered firmly. He recalled the master’s words that the reason for hiding in a remote forest was to avoid a group of debt collectors. Was it those people? No. No. Seeing how urgent this was, it might not even be a simple matter of debt. If so, he even more certainly could not go alone.

“Is it those creditors you mentioned? Surely they wouldn’t kill someone over money. It will be hard for you to handle this alone. Let me stay with you.”

At the stubborn refusal, the pushing hands became more desperate.

“They are coming because of my problem, so hurry!”

“What does that mean? Please explain properly.”

“Liberto Street, 25th Avenue.”

Within his serious and heavy gaze, only one person was captured. It was a steadfastness and affection that would never move without a powerful catalyst. Realizing this, Aaron’s mind raced in a different sense. In a short time, tens of thousands of stories were created and destroyed as he thought of an excuse to push the dog away. When a conclusion finally emerged, Aaron didn’t think twice and let a lie slip effortlessly from his tongue.

“There’s an old tavern called the Red King. I’ve promised to meet someone there tonight. If you give your name to the tavern owner, he’ll guide you. There is an item I requested from that man. You must retrieve it. The problem can only be solved if you have that. Since he’s a man I arranged through someone else, I can’t meet him if I go.”

“What is it that makes it so?”

“It’s an item that no one but I should know about, so don’t even think about looking inside.”

His expression and tone were surprisingly calm. The resolve to never go alone wavered significantly at Aaron’s following words.

“I need that item.”

“Is that true?”

MacQuan searched the master’s expression to determine the truth. In the gaze that met his seriously, no lie was visible.

“Yes. I don’t have time to explain. I must meet that man quickly. If he says he needs more money, I’ve put cash in the bag, so give him as much as he asks. Go now. You must never return to the forest.”

“Just one thing.”

Even as he was forced to step away by the rough pushing, MacQuan did not stop his questioning.

“I will ask just one thing.”

“……Hurry.”

As the sound of hooves drew closer, Aaron instinctively felt that the time given to him was running out. He put more strength into the hand pushing MacQuan.

“Are the people coming here people who have harmed you? Are they the ones who have been violent toward you?”

“What?”

“If that’s the case, I won’t go. I’ll eliminate them with my own hands.”

The motion of desperately pushing him stopped abruptly.

“…….”

The eyes filled with fear suddenly curved into a thin slit. They were eyes that looked as if they couldn’t contain their amusement. However, for some reason, the master’s smile looked like a sob, leaving MacQuan speechless. With a low laugh, Aaron shook his head and stared quietly at his dog.

“He could kill you in the most cruel way, but he cannot lay a single finger on me. As you say, he might be violent toward me, but he will never do more than that. Do not put yourself and me in the same position. Stop talking arrogantly and get out.”

[—Aaron!]

A harsh shout echoed from not far away. It was his father. Despite his old age, his presence was formidable. He had clearly reached the entrance of the fork in the road where the cottage was visible.

“Go now.”

Having completely wiped the smile from his face, Aaron gave MacQuan’s chest one final, powerful push. Because of the desperation in the touch, the sturdy body was pushed away far too easily. Until the very last moment, the eyes they met were shaking. His heart screamed.

Still clutching the strap of the bag, MacQuan whispered quickly.

“Once I meet that man, I will bring you back immediately.”

“Hurry.”

“Really, you did speak with him in advance, right? It’s correct that I’m to retrieve the item?”

“Yes.”

“Can we really meet again?”

Even while stepping backward, he insisted on saying everything he wanted to say. Aaron laughed with a hoarsely cracked voice, amused by that stubborn persistence.

“Theodore.”

A long sigh felt like boredom amidst the urgency.

“You must never return here. Wait until I come to find you.”

“Master, really…”

Having left his dog alone in the darkness, Aaron turned around and firmly closed the workshop door. Then, he quickly locked the latch. The hand searching for the key in his pocket trembled mercilessly.

“Damn it.”

Harsh curses poured out repeatedly. Because the shaking was so severe, Aaron eventually gave up on locking it and slumped to the floor. Even then, no sign of movement was felt beyond the door. Mocking the dog’s foolishness in being unable to leave him behind, Aaron whispered as if sobbing.

“Go. Hurry.”

[…….]

“Theodore.”

[…….]

“……Hurry.”

Please.

As if he had understood the plea that couldn’t be uttered, the sound of footsteps finally echoed after a moment of hesitation. The sound of the small door leading outside opening, one step, two steps. Only after hearing the footsteps receding from the cottage did Aaron breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, his dog had safely left this hell.

“…….”

A strange sensation where time was hard to gauge dominated him. It felt like an eternity. Aaron blinked slowly, waiting for the hell that was about to descend.

Neigh—

Before he knew it, the sound of a horse’s neighing rang out right in front of the door. Not long after, the gates of hell opened, and the old demon invaded the cottage.

Bang—!

“Aaron!”

His father called Aaron Wizfeldon in a voice full of rage. Following behind the maddened father was Caliven. His appearance, having already weathered a storm, was not even funny. The scars remaining across his face made Caliven Wizfeldon look even more wretched.

“I had my doubts, but you really…”

The Duke of Cornwall, who had approached in an instant, raised his hand high. Immediately, a powerful cracking sound sliced through the air. Aaron’s body swayed, unable to withstand the immense force pouring in at once. Leaving his falling son behind, the Duke quickly scanned the interior.

“You—!”

More than expected, the interior of the old cottage showed signs of having been properly lived in. The occasional matching sets of items meant that more than one person had lived here. It was the moment the previous report was confirmed as fact.

“Who is it?”

The sound of grinding teeth echoed menacingly. Aaron remained silent, carelessly stroking his reddened, scratched cheek.

“I asked who that red-haired man is. I already looked into it before coming here, so do not lie.”

It was a question that left no room for evasion. Aaron recalled the contents of a letter stating that someone had been tailing him, and that witness had reported the cottage and the existence of the person with him to his father.

It must have been that night.

That night when he had been more careless and irresponsible than usual.

Recalling his sloppy behavior that day, Aaron kept his mouth shut tight. Everything was his own arrogance and mistake.

“…….”

“Do you intend to remain silent?”

“…….”

At his son’s decision to remain silent until the end, the precariously burning flame soared to its critical point.

“You really intend to see this through to the end.”

The Duke of Cornwall stormed through the interior of the cottage with relentless strides. It was an exposure of emotion, adding rage toward the other person who was not present.

“To think you’d use stones like this…”

Thud—!

He began throwing whatever objects he saw onto the floor. With a massive crashing sound, the tableware was the first to be shattered, and old furniture was knocked over and kicked. A makeshift stump chair, clumsily carved by someone, rolled miserably toward the entrance.

“Completely mad! To create such things even here. Deceiving my eyes, even going so far as to mock me!”

Aaron watched helplessly as the cottage was thoroughly demolished by his father. The situation had reached its worst, but conversely, he felt a simultaneous sense of exhaustion and relief. Aaron leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The time of the past few months—no, the past few years—was being destroyed and broken so easily.

He couldn’t stop it, nor could he do anything about it anyway.

The dog had fled, and he would simply stay here, take the brunt of that rage with his body, and then get treated. Aaron knew his father’s limit: that he could not touch him until the very end. Regardless of how broken the reality was, wasn’t he the heir to the Cornwall family who had to be presented in public? He was a man who would not dare damage a product that had to be sold at the highest price. As Aaron continued his thoughts, one corner of his lip curled up.

My meanness must surely resemble yours, for it is this filthy and foul-smelling.

“Did you think everything would be solved by secretly bringing someone here to live? I wonder how long you thought such a life was possible away from my eyes. Truly appalling!”

A shout, almost possessed by madness, rang through the ceiling. Even amidst this, all of Aaron’s attention was directed toward the workshop door instead of his rampaging father. The lock, which he hadn’t properly secured, hung half-open, fueling his anxiety.

“Father, please calm down a little…”

Caliven did his best to block his father. At the second son’s half-hearted rebellion—he who usually just breathed in silence—the Duke’s face crumpled further.

“You, shut your mouth.”

It was a cold rebuke, stating there wasn’t even a need to be angry. The Duke of Cornwall pushed his second son aside and walked toward the bed. Mockery was evident in his eyes as he looked at the grass cover beneath the sheets.

“It is absurd that my heir lives in a place where such vermin dwell.”

The old Duke snorted and raised his cane high. The pile of grass, carefully made by someone, was ruthlessly scattered by the striking cane and kicks.

It was the exact same image as the act of treading upon the dog’s heart some time ago.

Truly, they were a father and son who resembled each other down to their souls. Could there be clearer evidence that he had inherited his father’s blood entirely?

A broken laugh leaked out feebly.

“And what is this?”

The Duke of Cornwall’s interest, after breaking things for a while, turned toward the workshop. First the door, then the doorknob, then the locking mechanism hanging precariously on the ring. After confirming all the elements, the old Duke immediately turned toward the workshop door. Every movement—the steady strides, the act of ripping the half-locked latch open with his hand—was a mixture of cruel aggression and rage.

It was the solemn end of the space and time he had hidden for so long. Aaron quietly closed his eyes and covered his ears.

Bang—!

With a violent sound, the door opened, and the sight of the workshop revealed caused the old Duke’s face to finally distort.

“Aaron—!”

A scream-filled cry tore through the air. The Duke of Cornwall, now more ferocious than ever before, began to throw and kick the sculptures displayed throughout the studio without a moment’s hesitation. There was a sense of madness in his frantically shifting gaze.

“How dare you deceive my eyes and do such a thing!”

Because the sculptures had significant weight, they shattered with thunderous crashes. Depending on the impact, some were pulverized into powder, while others broke into large, scattered shards.

“Why on earth have you still not come to your senses? Why!”

Fragments of marble and plaster rolled across the floor. Canvases and dyes scattered aimlessly. Watching the endless stream of sculptures that continued to appear no matter how many he broke, the old Duke gradually transformed into a monster.

“……How truly hideous.”

Muttering lowly, Aaron covered both ears. It was too loud. For someone who was the Prime Minister of the British Empire, adored by the people, was he not far too noisy and repulsive? His lips moved faintly, whispering the words in his heart.

“Why do this!”

Sculptures that had taken months, or even years, to complete met the most dramatic of deaths before they could ever bloom into their full value. The eyes watching him with an indifferent expression wavered for a moment. It was because he realized the piece that had just been smashed was one the dog had quite liked.

“If I were a businessman, I surely would have sold your sculptures as the most expensive in the world, Master.”

Why do I recall those frivolous words of yours?

Words that held no weight, no meaning.

Bitter emotions turned into grains of sand, grating against him. No matter how much he tried to swallow them, the poison-like sweetness would not vanish. His heart struggled to gather itself, only to be chaotically dismantled again and again. The cracked and broken shards became monstrosities rolling beneath his feet. That horrific sight felt exactly like his own current state.

“Stop this!”

A fierce shout came from the deepest part of the studio, from a small door hidden behind a curtain. At the familiar voice, the hands covering his ears flinched.

No way.

Anxiety seeped into his wide-open eyes. As the curtain was drawn back and a man appeared, every gaze in the room shifted toward the corner.

“……?”

“Theo!”

The person revealed under the dim lamp light was indeed a man Aaron knew well.

The dog who had guarded the cottage for the past six months.

The one he had shared a bed and kisses with until only a day ago.

Aaron’s expression, which had remained indifferent even in a situation resembling hell, quickly stained with bewilderment.

Why.

Why.

“Get out.”

He commanded in a heavily sunken tone. His formless heart surged violently. Pushing himself up from his collapsed position, Aaron walked quickly toward the studio.

“Aaron, are you alright?”

“Get out, get out, get out!”

The man who returned was empty-handed. He clearly hadn’t gone far.

“I said get out!”

Foolish and obtuse creature.

Contrary to his urgent heart, his steps toward the man staggered haphazardly. Aaron passed by a completely dazed Calvin and his father, approaching MacQuan. His mind was on the verge of exploding just thinking about how to deal with the insolent dog who dared to disobey his order. He didn’t even have the capacity to distinguish whether the emotion he felt was anger or fear.

“Aaron.”

The foolish man who had returned was looking at him with eyes warmer than anyone else’s in the world. He was truly a simple and ignorant man. Aaron felt a delusion that all his heat was rushing to his eyes out of anger. He loathed situations where he could not control his emotions. One such monster in his life—his father—was enough. His scarred hand pushed MacQuan’s body away in irritation.

“Go, quickly……”

“I couldn’t leave you behind.”

“What are you talking about? Just go……”

“You’re lying. Your expression gives it away whenever you lie; didn’t you know?”

The gentle laughter and the secret words meant only for him tore Aaron’s heart to shreds. The touch softly stroking the corner of his eye was painful. His eyes grew hotter, and a distant dizziness shook his head. I’ve come. The whispering voice became a spear, piercing his heart. Please just vanish. Get away. A scream that could not find its way out as sound slashed through his throat.

“Get out.”

A rough hand shoved MacQuan back toward the open gap of the door.

“I said get out.”

Get out, get out, get out. His voice, reaching the peak of anxiety, trembled violently. The dog’s sturdy body did not budge an inch, no matter how hard he pushed.

“Aaron.”

The pathetic dog called his master in a dreadfully tender voice.

“It’s okay, it’s alright.”

“Get out, can’t you hear me?”

“Aaron.”

“Get out right now before I kill you!”

“I will stay with you.”

Let’s endure this together, Aaron.

An unknown terror engulfed him. Aaron could no longer see anything. Not his father, who looked at him and the dog with a shocked expression; not Calvin, who couldn’t even lift his head; nor this foolish dog who, unable to grasp the situation, hugged him and repeatedly whispered that it was okay, fearing he might have been startled.

“Baronet……”

A voice mixed with a faint tremor flowed from the Duke of Cornwall. At the shock embedded in his father’s voice, Aaron’s tense body stiffened excessively.

It’s okay. It’s okay, Aaron, Aaron. I will protect you.

The foolish dog endlessly stroked Aaron’s back, whispering sweetly. That it was okay now, that he would resolve everything. A dim-witted dog who didn’t even realize that he was the one the monster had summoned.

“Is that the Baronet?”

The sound of dazed footsteps gradually drew closer. As they did, the arms holding Aaron tightened further. His staggering body was pulled deeper into the embrace.

The Duke, who had walked up to a step away, slowly spoke.

“Baronet Enfield.”

His tone was bleak. The Duke of Cornwall narrowed his eyes and stared at the man, as if to confirm the situation he was seeing for the several-th time. No matter how many times he checked, the result was the same.

“It is you.”

Though there were many strange things, from the bizarre hair color to the worn-out clothes, the man before him was undoubtedly the low-born businessman of gentry origin who had gone missing in Winklear Forest six months ago.

“Why are you here?”

“What nonsense is this?”

“What?”

“What is this commotion you’re making? Have you gone mad? What on earth is the meaning of this?”

Dense anger erupted without filter. Confused by the inexplicable situation, the old Duke frowned and spoke.

“Have you gone mad as well? What have you been doing here with my son all this time? Have you contacted the Duke of Devonshire? And that hair, what on earth……”

“Baronet? What are you talking about? If you’re the one causing a scene, I won’t just stand by.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Do you even know how much of a stir has been caused because of you? What madness is this? What is the meaning of this situation, exactly?”

As he took another step forward, MacQuan’s expression immediately distorted fiercely, and he issued a warning.

“You have the wrong person. I am not the person you speak of, nor have I ever seen you. Stop your rampage here and leave at once.”

“What……”

He seemed not to understand a word. It was the look one gives a stranger. No matter how low-born a merchant he was, there was no way MacQuan Lester would not recognize him. Sensing that Baronet Enfield’s state was unusual, the old Duke turned his gaze back toward his heir.

“Explain what is happening.”

“…….”

“Aaron.”

The flat tone dripped with coldness. His precious heir was still embraced by the vulgar merchant. Though he waited for a long time, the only answer was silence, but it was enough time to grasp the situation. Suddenly, a very foul hypothesis flashed through the Duke of Cornwall’s mind.

“……My God.”

He realized it instinctively.

The fact that his heir was deeply involved in the disappearance of the representative of the Klaus Diugen Company. No, to be more precise, not just involved, but perhaps the one who orchestrated it.

“You’ve finally gone mad, I see.”

The anger that filled him to the brim made him surprisingly calm. After standing in silence for a while, the Duke of Cornwall kicked a piece of plaster rolling on the table with a murderous expression.

“You must have used opium again. Otherwise……”

The sculpture, already trampled and beaten with a cane, shattered once more.

“That mad drug has finally ruined our family.”

The image of a demon overlaid the face of the Duke, who had lost his reason to anger. The atmosphere was dangerous to anyone who looked. MacQuan quickly hid Aaron behind his back.

“It’s dangerous, so wait.”

At the words delivered in a calm voice, Aaron leaned his head back helplessly. The dog, whose thoughts were unknowable, was still looking down at him with blind eyes. With an ominous feeling, Aaron unconsciously grabbed MacQuan’s arm.

“……Don’t go.”

“Aaron.”

“Don’t go. That monster will kill you.”

Emotions he couldn’t hide leaked through his trembling voice. Reading the affection and worry contained within, MacQuan’s eyes curved softly.

“Is it that person?”

The answer was completely unexpected.

“What?”

“The person you asked if I could kill for you.”

His blue pupils dilated widely. Before he could answer, a warm, large hand gripped another hand full of wounds tightly and then let go. It’s okay. The breath mixed with the low whisper tickled his hair. At the fleeting warmth, Aaron looked down at his still-trembling hand.

“Can you save me? Can you kill that person for me?”

Unable to support his strengthless body, Aaron collapsed onto the floor. His fingertips, touching the ground, trembled.

“Shall I kill him?”

“Shall I kill him for you?”

Ah.

Yes. You said it. That you would kill him for me.

Recalling the words buried in his memory, Aaron stared blankly at his dog. When their eyes met, the ignorant and foolish being smiled tenderly even in this hellish situation. In those eyes, which resembled Ramdiff Forest, only one person was engraved.

“Yes.”

A voice, more than dry, sounded withered.

“……Yes.”

Yes.

The only person living in the dog’s world was him.

“Wait here.”

I will kill him.

An emotion, indistinguishable between cheer and joy, surged.

Luxurious pain had always followed him like a shadow. Misfortune always embraced him with ecstasy. Because he had enjoyed all the wealth and glory from the highest peak, for a long time, Aaron did not think the violence he suffered was pain or misfortune. He could have any honor, power, or wealth he desired.

“Yes.”

That was why he didn’t know he couldn’t have the thing he desired most.

“Yes……”

His red lips curved softly. Yes. He was certainly completely mad.

“You vulgar brat, how dare you touch my body!”

By the time he snapped back to his senses at the scream, the man had already stepped close to his father. MacQuan hugged the Duke of Cornwall, who was raging out of his mind, from behind. The Duke, whose movements were suddenly restrained, screamed with such force that the capillaries in the whites of his eyes seemed ready to burst.

“You disgusting opium peddler!”

“The one who should get out of here immediately is you.”

“Insolent brat, you low-life merchant! I see you’ve gone completely mad and no longer value your life! You piece of—!”

“Don’t make me laugh. Did you think I wouldn’t know that you’re the one who always leaves that person in ruins?”

“Calvin, quickly get this piece of trash off me!”

Shouts and violent friction exchanged. The two men, tangled in a mess, collided harshly. Because both had sturdy builds, the scuffle was as intense as a battle.

“Let go! Let go of me!”

Surrounded by sculptures and clumsily made shelves, stone shards like weapons rolled around with harsh crashing sounds wherever they stepped.

“You will never lay a hand on that person again.”

“What, what did you say? How dare you, how dare you, a thing like you—!”

Contrary to his polite words, his movements were fierce. Using the difference in their build, he drove the Duke of Cornwall against the wall. Thump— thump— the sound of harsh impacts echoed as their bodies collided several times.

“Because I am going to kill you.”

“Ugh, ack! This, hand—!”

Taking advantage of the moment the Duke grew tired from the rough scuffle, MacQuan reached out and strangled Edmund’s neck. At the unexpected attack, the Duke’s eyes rolled back as he resisted violently. The more he struggled, the tighter the pressure on his throat became.

“Khhh……”

“Father!”

Only then did Calvin snap out of it and rush in at the peak of the situation. At that moment, a desolate voice stopped him.

“Calvin.”

Even amidst the painful groans, the air surrounding him was eerily silent. The eyes staring straight ahead glowed faintly with murderous intent.

“Stay still.”

“Brother, what are you saying?”

“If the situation becomes critical, I will shoot him myself, so step back.”

“Brother!”

Aaron pulled out a pistol loaded with a bullet. At the muzzle pointing exactly at his own heart, Calvin stopped in his tracks with a bewildered expression. It was unclear who the brother meant to shoot. Even Calvin, who had always been obedient to Aaron’s orders, grew pale.

“I told you to step back.”

“Brother, please don’t do this. Isn’t this a critical situation! At this rate, the Duke will really be in danger……”

Click.

Before the words could finish, the bullet mechanism turned. In the eyes staring straight ahead, no regret remained. Calvin knew his brother’s half-mad temperament well. He also knew that his brother was not a man to speak empty words.

Still aiming the muzzle, Aaron gestured with his chin toward Calvin.

“Get out of here. I will not say it again.”

“Brother!”

“If you do not leave, I will have no choice.”

Click.

At the sound of the safety being released, Calvin’s face turned white. It was an ultimatum that he would not repeat himself. The long muzzle was now pointing exactly at their father, Duke Cornwall, Edmund Wizfeldon.

The murderous intent in the eyes that met his was too real to be a lie. Calvin closed his eyes tight and bit his lip.

“Brother, please don’t do this. We can just persuade Father. I will take him away……”

“You chatter too much.”

Despite the earnest plea, Aaron placed his finger on the trigger without a word. Only then did Calvin raise both hands to shoulder height.

“I’ll go. Brother, I’ll go. I’m leaving, so please calm down.”

“Get out.”

At the firm command, Calvin was finally driven out the threshold of the studio. Confirming the intruder was gone, Aaron once again watched the scene of hell with an expressionless face. Meanwhile, the old Duke, who had managed to pry away the hand strangling his neck with all his might, stepped backward. His bloodshot eyes were like those of a demon.

“This low-born merchant has completely lost his mind! You think you’ve become something just because you gathered trashy money selling opium and bought a title! To think you’d act out like this!”

“Stop the nonsense and get out of here this instant. If you don’t want to die!”

“You—! Khhh!”

The bloodshot gaze looked as if it would tear the man before him to pieces right then and there. The Duke of Cornwall pulled at his collar to avoid MacQuan, who was trying to strangle him again.

“Aaron! Calvin!”

“…….”

“Aaron! Aaron!”

The old Duke called out desperately to his two beloved sons, but the second son was tied up, and the heir he loved most merely watched the situation while aiming a gun.

“What are you doing? Shoot this man! Aaron, Aaron!”

“…….”

“Aaron—!”

Realizing no one would help him, the Duke turned back to MacQuan and began to pour out curses.

“I’ll make sure you can never set foot in England again. I’ll make sure your name and Klaus’s name are treated worse than trash thrown on the streets of London. The name MacQueen Lester will vanish forever! Do you really think you’ll leave this place peacefully? You’ve already been processed as missing, so no one will know if you die without a trace! I’ll tear you to pieces and scatter your flesh in the Thames!”

“……What?”

At the brutal words, the arm pressing the Duke momentarily lost its strength. MacQuan’s complexion clouded with confusion for a moment.

MacQueen Lester, opium, Klaus, Baronet, missing…… MacQuan……

Words with no apparent connection invaded his mind. They weren’t unfamiliar.

Surely……

The Duke of Cornwall, not missing the moment the restraining force vanished, thrashed his whole body.

“How dare a thing like you touch my body—! How dare you!”

“Ugh!”

At the convulsing movement, MacQuan hurriedly grabbed the old Duke. Although he was elderly, Edmund Wizfeldon was a man who had commanded armies on battlefields in the past despite his status as a Grand Duke. As the man lunged with sincerity, the scuffle grew even more violent. The two large frames became entangled, crashing into various parts of the studio and shaking the old cottage.

“Let go! You vulgar, filthy wretch!”

The tall bodies crashed through the furniture one after another. It was a display cabinet, tall enough to nearly touch the ceiling. The sound of breaking wood echoed throughout the room. As the collisions continued, the struggle of pushing and grabbing grew even more violent. Thump—thump! Eventually, the wooden cabinet, unable to withstand the weight and impact of two men, shook violently.

“……Ah.”

Aaron stared blankly at the swaying cabinet in front of him, his expression suggesting he could hear nothing. In that moment, a bizarre ringing tore through his ears.

You are the sin.

The bust placed at the highest point was scrutinizing his sins in detail. A wicked, gaunt soul mocked his cruelty. He was a demon. A ghost, a devil. A grotesque smile leaked from his slightly parted lips. Hahaha. His exhausted shoulders heaved along with the loud laughter. Even before the precariously shaking cabinet and the plaster statues, his collapsed body did not move an inch. The tower of the demon collapsed upon him.

“Aaron!”

“Aaron! Aaron!”

Desperate screams rang out. They were the voices of two people. Following the sound, Aaron slowly turned his eyes. He saw his father, stained with horror, and his faithful dog. A cramped space. Though they were only a few steps away, it felt as if they were dozens of yards apart. The movements of the dog rushing toward him with an anxious expression were perceived as excessively slow, and all sound vanished until nothing could be heard.

“Get back!”

Having rushed forward without a second thought, MacQuan threw his body with all his might just before the cabinet fell toward Aaron. The desperate desire to shield him as much as possible was etched into every joint of his outstretched fingers.

———!

The moment he embraced his lover, the cabinet and sculptures crashed down upon MacQuan’s body. Without time to think, he hugged Aaron as tightly as possible to his chest to protect his master and closed his eyes.

Thud, thud—

The sounds of shattering and colliding continued. Thud—the furniture made of old wood struck the dog’s broad shoulders and back, and the plaster busts poured down without a chance to react. Even amidst the dull rupturing sounds and the frantic onslaught of impacts, the body embracing Aaron did not move an inch.

Thud—

At that moment, a horrific sound, different from the others, echoed through the space. The body curled up in his arms gasped. Like a beast twisting its limbs just before death, the large body flinched violently once and then stopped.

“…….”

After a moment, the body that had been protecting Aaron slid away. Feeling the oppressive pressure completely release, Aaron let out an involuntary moan.

“Ah……”

Not even the sound of breathing could be heard inside the cabin. Even in that brief moment of slipping out of the embrace, his entire body trembled.

“Ah, ah.”

With eyes completely devoid of spirit, Aaron scanned the arm that hung limply downward and the body that had collapsed over him. His movements were so slow, he seemed like a dead man.

“……Theodore.”

A parched, shriveled voice called out to MacQuan. No answer returned. For some reason, the faithful dog did not budge. A thick, hot liquid soaked his hand. It was an unpleasant sensation, different from the large hand that had always warmly enveloped him.

“Theodore.”

Calling the dog’s name once more, Aaron leaned down and listened intently. He heard a very faint and irregular sound of breathing. The tightly closed eyelids no longer revealed a heart stained with purity and longing.

“Theo……”

A voice that couldn’t even manage a scream repeatedly called for his dog. The dark red blood flowing from the torn wounds was already spreading wide across the floor. Regardless of this, Aaron slowly stroked the hair that was redder than the sun he had created with his own hands.

“Open your eyes.”

The more he touched, the more thick blood coated his entire palm, but his elegant movements did not stop. The blood-stained face visible beneath his scarred hand looked so painful.

“Open your eyes, Theodore……”

“Calvin! Calvin!”

The voice of the old Duke, filled with horror, filled the cabin. Urgent footsteps and shouts tangled messily, floating through the air. Amidst the chaos of breaking, collapsing, and ruining, Aaron’s gaze was fixed on only one person.

Theodore.

It was a name of deception—insignificantly light and filthy, containing not a shred of truth. Embracing the dying body, Aaron whispered plaintively over and over. Theo, Theo. Not a single tear fell from his dry eyes.

Theodore.

Theodore.

My dog.

This place is still hell.

The black curtains fluttered in the wind blowing in from outside. The bleak air heralded the arrival of winter.

✦ ✦ ✦

Instead of answering, the man stared silently at the hand extended toward him. The long, straight fingers held his gaze. He knew that the hand was warm. The deep blue irises looking down at the man’s hand wavered as if veiled in a thin film of water. A slow ripple of emotion spread across his expressionless, pale face.

✦ ✦ ✦

MacQuan only regained consciousness when a harsh winter had arrived and a fierce frost had been raging across London for some time.

“Ugh…”

As he opened his eyes and his vision gradually cleared, familiar faces came into view one by one. Though they were undoubtedly people he knew well, they felt strangely alien.

It was a bizarre sensation.

“MacQuan!”

Leaving behind a muffled cry of anguish, MacQuan blinked slowly. His head felt heavy, as if he had been struck hard by something, and his body would not move properly. His attempt to sit up ended in failure, as a throbbing pain surged through his entire body.

“Lester!”

Seeing his friend’s fingertips lightly tapping the sheets, tears welled up in his companion’s eyes. His fiancée, standing beside him, also sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking. Cries that crossed between sorrow and joy filled the bedroom.

“…….”

MacQuan slowly reached out and gently grasped Elisha’s red curly hair, which was scattered messily across the sheets. It was a familiar color, but a sense of longing preceded everything else. Since he had not shared such a tender relationship with the woman, it was a feeling he found utterly difficult to comprehend. After stroking her hair for a long while, he struggled to open his mouth.

“……Elisha.”

At the sound of her name being called precisely, the woman, who had been bedridden for months, burst into even more violent sobs.

“MacQuan…… MacQuan.”

“What… happened to me?”

“You’re alright now. You need to rest more. It’s okay, it’s okay…… sob……”

A comfortable atmosphere settled around his bedside. Stroking the soft hair entwined between his fingers, MacQuan exhaled a deep breath. He closed his eyes as drowsiness soon washed over him. Along with it came the thought that when he woke again, he would hold that fragile, pitiful woman tightly in his arms.

Shortly after the turn of the year, an unexpected guest visited Emblin Hall, MacQuan’s London residence.

“It’s time.”

Checking the time on the grandfather clock, MacQuan walked to the tea table and drank the medicine and lukewarm water prepared by the servant. The painkiller prescribed by his primary physician, Sir Belten, was effective, helping him sleep soundly without the nightmares that had plagued him for a while.

Perhaps because his body had been exhausted by repeated injuries, the line from his forehead to the bridge of his nose looked sharper and more gaunt than it had a few months ago.

What on earth had happened during that time……

His attempt to recall the missing time did not last long, as another headache struck. MacQuan clenched his teeth and barely managed to swallow a groan. Suffering from a headache so intense it shook his very consciousness, he felt he could almost understand the mind of an opium addict. As time passed, his body and mind grew exhausted from the nerves that had been sharpened since he regained consciousness.

“This is maddening.”

The corner of his mouth twisted as he spoke to himself.

Shortly after waking, MacQuan had to face an unbelievable truth. He thought he had simply slept for one night, but several months had already passed since he attended the fox hunt, and in that interval, entire chunks of his memory had vanished. It was more absurd than a cheap pulp novel.

“Now, let’s push forward properly.”

Looking in the mirror, MacQuan recalled the most perfect proposal he had recently received from the Duke of Devonshire. Running for a constituency and entering Parliament. It was the result of long anticipation and careful effort. His contemplative face distorted with irritation again. It was because he remembered the person he was about to meet.

“To think I have to waste my time on such a thing……”

Setting down the half-finished glass of water, MacQuan walked back to the bed to change his clothes. It was time to welcome the great father and son of the Duke of Cornwall’s house, who would soon visit Emblin Hall.

Cornwall.

His hand stopped as he removed his gown. In the past, that name would have brought to mind the stubborn leader of the Tory Party, but now, the first degenerate son of Cornwall naturally came to mind. It was perhaps due to their intense first meeting and the shooting incident that followed. In MacQuan’s eyes as he recalled the face in his memory, deep anger was mixed with a faint contempt.

“Shameless bastards.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the claim that the person who found him collapsed after falling from his horse happened to be that lunatic out hunting in the woods. He had experienced too much and met too many villains to believe such a pathetic lie. Given the circumstances, it was clear that the Cornwall family had kidnapped him and tried to dispose of him, yet there was insufficient evidence.

I can’t just die easily at their hands.

His moderately full lips tilted diagonally, and a characteristic arrogant smile spread deeply.

“You’ll have to pay the price for underestimating your enemy too much.”

The laughter in his tone carried a cold murderous intent. The sinister plot of the Cornwall father and son, so obvious to the eye, was laughable. Finding him while hunting—no matter how many times he thought about it, it was bullshit. How long had it taken just to calm the rage that made him want to storm Pellington Hall this very instant?

The strange man he had seen for a brief moment when he first regained consciousness had definitely been holding a hunting rifle. He must have hired a killer. If he had woken up even a moment later, that rifle barrel would surely have been pointed at his head or heart.

Standing straight before the mirror, MacQuan lifted his ridiculous hair. Because it had grown in the meantime, the roots were brown, but above that, it was a high-saturation red.

When he first noticed it, anger and disgust preceded surprise. He had tried to dye it back to its original color, but he was told that the head injury was too severe for immediate treatment. For the time being, he had to live with this bizarre look. Thinking that he would just cut his hair off if necessary, MacQuan clicked his tongue lowly. His hand was full of irritation as he brushed back his hair.

Knock, knock.

Just as he was fastening the last button of his shirt, a cautious knock was heard.

[Master, Earl Vispilt of Cornwall has arrived.]

At the butler’s report, his gaze naturally shifted toward the grandfather clock. It was earlier than the appointed time. Irritation rose again at a visit that showed absolutely no consideration for his situation.

“Damn it, they’re early.”

Clicking his tongue repeatedly, MacQuan hurriedly placed the discarded gown and patient’s top into a basket.

‘Because the General Election is not far off.’

The time had come for the winds of change to blow through the political scene of Westminster. For the sake of the election, it was better to set aside personal grudges for a moment. Unless there was clear evidence, there was a high possibility of a backlash for false accusations. Hoping that those fervent Royalists, who were a thorn in his side, would destroy themselves on their own if possible, he turned around with a mask-like smile.

“Show him in.”

[Yes.]

A moment later, the door opened.

Contrary to expectations, the only person who entered the room under guidance was the young Earl.

“The Duke of Cornwall is currently speaking with the Duke of Devonshire.”

At the butler’s explanation, MacQuan nodded lightly, checked his attire once more, and approached the heir of Cornwall. In his clean movements, there was no trace of any consideration for the other party.

“Greetings, Earl Vispilt. I am MacQueen Lester.”

It was a flawless, concise, and polite greeting.

“…….”

Waiting for a response, MacQuan glanced sideways and quickly scanned the man standing in front of him. A lavish waistcoat, a perfectly fitted black suit with matching gloves, and sophisticated shoes—not a single thing was out of place. Beneath neatly combed bright platinum blonde hair, a delicate face was revealed. Exceptionally bright blue eyes gazed steadily at MacQuan. Though it was for a short time, a formless heaviness enveloped him.

‘Is this an aftereffect of the head injury?’

Feeling a sudden burning sensation in his chest, MacQuan swallowed a dry breath. It felt strange. Since the man had always been a mess, intoxicated by drugs every time they met, this quiet and calm appearance felt somehow dissonant. To seize the initiative in the conversation, he donned the mask of the Baronet of Enfield again and smiled composedly.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I heard that you and the Duke saved me. Since I have been unwell for a while, I am only now able to offer my gratitude.”

“…….”

“Lord Wizfeldon?”

As the man continued to look down at the outstretched hand without any intention of shaking it, MacQuan called out to him again. From the expression of the young Earl, who could not tear his sunken gaze away, a desolate and murky aura emanated. His appearance was still eye-catching, but he was far more gaunt and haggard than in MacQuan’s memories. Curiosity arose, but it did not last long.

‘He must have taken opium again. Pathetic.’

MacQuan sneered sharply at the assumption that came easily to mind. Seeing that vacant look, it seemed plausible. He was a man who was intoxicated by drugs regardless of time or place. Although MacQuan, who sold those very drugs, was in no position to speak, what was a degenerate intoxicated to the soul any different from an old-world parasite eating away at taxes?

“Well, let’s leave the greetings at that.”

Without even thinking to hide the expression dripping with contempt, MacQuan quickly withdrew his hand. Cold eyes followed that heartless movement slowly. The man with the refined features gazed at MacQuan—or more accurately, at his hair—for a long time with eyes that encompassed a range of emotions. MacQuan hurriedly turned his head away, feeling uncomfortable and strange at the eyes that wavered sometimes nostalgically, sometimes painfully, as if tracing back time. He was a strange man.

Breaking the silence that had lasted for a while, Aaron’s lips slowly opened.

“Your memory.”

The murky voice pierced his ears with an eerie intensity. MacQuan wanted to snub him, but the other’s expression was so dark and heavy that it was difficult to simply sneer. For some reason, he found himself unable to say anything, so he waited for the next words without answering. After a bit more time passed, the smooth lips parted again.

“I heard you lost it.”

As if it were difficult to finish the sentence, the man frowned deeply. Because he looked somewhat pained, MacQuan instinctively flinched. Not knowing how to respond, he hesitated for a moment and then pointed toward the tea table.

“Would you like to sit?”

“……No.”

Aaron rejected the offer briefly and remained standing straight in silence for a long while. The moment the absurd thought occurred to him that the man looked lonely, MacQuan gave a bitter smile.

‘I’ve gone mad.’

The man, not missing the momentary smile, met his eyes again. A heavy and sharp atmosphere flowed through the awkward silence.

“Do you remember nothing at all?”

The man, asking again to confirm, almost seemed desperate. It was an incomprehensible reaction, but MacQuan answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”

“How far back do you remember?”

“I have no memory after leaving in the middle of the hunting competition. According to the first witness, I left my horse and walked away, but I have no memory of that either. I tried to find that plumber, but his whereabouts are unknown. It is strange.”

Drawing out the end of his sentence, MacQuan narrowed his eyes.

“I heard you have memories from after you regained consciousness.”

“Even those are faint. Ah, I do remember the man who supposedly saved me was holding a hunting gun.”

“……A rifle.”

At the last word, the man’s expression stiffened rapidly. Only then did MacQuan understand the awkward attitude and silence Aaron Wizfeldon had shown. The way he kept questioning like an interrogation was likely because he feared their crimes would be revealed. A cold laugh finally burst out at the clumsy operation of the fledgling degenerate. Putting aside his momentarily stirred heart, MacQuan expressed his condemnation indirectly.

“I feel as though I’ve been played by someone’s plan. Of course, my life is quite tenacious, so things didn’t go as intended.”

“…….”

“Well…… if the Earl hadn’t discovered me at the exquisite timing of my fall from the horse, I would probably be dead. Isn’t it a great stroke of luck that is hard for anyone to believe? I was very lucky.”

The sneer disguised as gratitude contained reasonable suspicions—the fact that he had been found in a part of the Wobburn estate’s forest that was intentionally difficult to find, the medical opinion that the head injury was likely caused by a blunt object, and Robert’s testimony of seeing someone who looked like him in the Northampton town square—suggesting that the Duke of Cornwall’s family was involved in his disappearance.

Of course, the reason he did not seek to clarify it immediately was to place a heavier psychological burden on the opponent, but separately, MacQuan’s personal unpleasantness and anger toward the Cornwall family remained.

“Though it is luck that I have survived until now.”

Even in the face of blatant hostility that didn’t even try to hide, Aaron gazed at MacQuan with a calm expression.

“I heard you might not be able to recover your memories.”

Recalling Sir Belten’s opinion that no one could be certain of the progress of memory issues following head trauma, MacQuan snorted. The act of trying to find a flaw in him was utterly laughable.

“So they say. But it doesn’t matter if I don’t find them. It’s only a few months, and even if I don’t recover my memories in that time, it changes nothing in my life. Nothing has changed even now.”

The point was: no matter what tricks you played or what you plotted during that period, it has no effect on me or Klaus Diugen.

“…….”

Contrary to his intention of announcing his resilience, the person who heard the answer continued in silence with a shocked expression. Because he looked as if he hadn’t considered MacQuan’s words at all, MacQuan himself could not hide his bewilderment for a moment.

“It has no meaning?”

The end of the question trembled faintly.

‘……Why is he acting like that?’

MacQuan hesitated for a moment, then firmly steadied his heart. While his heart beat rapidly to an incomprehensible degree, he completely ignored the abnormal symptom and continued the conversation.

“I’ve decided to think of it as having just slept. The present and future are more important than the days gone by. Of course, there were some problems with my company for a while, but it wasn’t a big deal. Though you might be disappointed.”

At the cold reaction, the desperation to find something from him quickly vanished.

Eyes whose emotions had been damaged looked downward. Even though it was merely the degenerate Earl withdrawing his gaze, MacQuan felt as if his heart was being torn out alive. It was inexplicable.

“I see.”

The answer that came after a longer silence was excessively concise. The man’s self-deprecating mutter was so powerless that it made the sharp attack from a moment ago feel awkward.

“Right.”

Repeating it once more as if talking to himself, Aaron slowly buried his face in both hands. Within the black-gloved hands, the annoyingly noble face disappeared without a trace. A silence that pressed upon the chest rushed in.

“……Are you alright?”

At the sight that looked almost painful, MacQuan unconsciously took a step closer. His mouth went dry from an inexplicable anxiety. It was strange.

“……My head hurts a bit.”

A dry whisper cut through the space. The long neck extending above the white shirt collar trembled slightly. For a long time, the man kept his face buried in his hands, breathing slowly. He looked too pained for it to be a lie.

“Excuse me……”

From MacQuan’s perspective, this was a completely unexpected situation. Unable to either sit at the table or stand properly, he could not take his eyes off the degenerate of Cornwall. It was a heavy silence that seemed to sink the very soul. The young heir had a tall and lean build, but at this moment, he felt infinitely small. He even looked extremely exhausted and distressed. MacQuan could not understand why he was thinking such things.

After a long while, the hands covering his face dropped. On Aaron Wizfeldon’s revealed face, the confused emotions that had been full just a moment ago were completely excised.

“……I must go.”

His eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion or expectation. At the sight of him attempting to leave the room immediately, MacQuan unconsciously stood up fully and hurriedly reached out.

“I have prepared some warm tea. If you wait just a moment……”

An inexplicable urgency escaped through his lips. He didn’t understand why, but the thought that he had to stop him came first.

“…….”

Stopping for a moment at MacQuan’s words, Aaron met his eyes and then briefly shook his head again.

“I’m fine.”

It was a response so firm that he couldn’t even try to hold him back.

Hold him back?

MacQuan looked at his hand hanging in the air. There was no need to hold onto that degenerate. If anything, he had reason to demand what harm the man had tried to do to him. With memories and emotions full of confusion, he slowly lowered his hand.

The back that had turned completely was straight, and the steps he took were filled with discipline and dignity. Only then did MacQuan realize that the young Earl of Cornwall was not intoxicated by drugs at all. The sound of shoes walking briskly toward the door did not last long.

Just before leaving, the man with his hand on the doorknob paused and fixed his gaze on his own hand. After parting his lips several times with an expression that suggested he didn’t know what to say, Aaron finally spoke again after a long while.

“Baronet.”

The emotion contained in the short call was heavier than necessary. MacQuan silently watched Aaron’s back.

“Yes.”

“I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“…….”

It was an ordinary greeting, entirely out of character with the arrogant nature he had long known, yet for some reason, MacQuan could not bring himself to answer.

Not even a superficial thank you.

Nor even a word of condemnation.

Regardless of whether he answered, Aaron, having finished his final farewell, left the room without a moment’s hesitation. In an instant, the brilliant gold in his sight vanished.

Thud.

As the door closed, the sound of neat footsteps echoed throughout the hallway.

Only one man remained in the bedroom, his expression one of utter confusion.

The sound of footsteps continued as he left the mansion.

His cold eyes, capable of freezing the very air, never once looked back. His complexion was so pale it wouldn’t have been strange if he collapsed on the spot, yet his stride was straight and fast. His gloved hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched.

“…….”

Having descended the stairs, Aaron turned back to gaze at the path he had walked. The emblem he had seen upon first entering the mansion greeted him once more. It was a vulgar, cheap crest befitting the title of a Baronet of Enfield. It was the ambition, greed, and desire of someone beyond that door.

“It is only a matter of a few months, and even if I do not recover my memories in that time, nothing in my life will change. Nothing is different even now.”

“Because the present and future are more important than the days gone by.”

Only after seeing the eyes filled with hostility of the man speaking firmly did Aaron realize the reality.

That a cruel lion had torn the head off its dog and chewed it all up.

That a starving vulture had devoured the eyes that once held him.

That a sharp spear had been driven straight through the center of a heart that once beat fervently.

That the man before him was no longer his dog.

Misfortune always followed him.

He was the one who possessed everything from the highest peak.

And yet, he was the one who possessed nothing.

A faint smile, so subtle it could not be heard unless one listened closely, escaped Aaron’s tightly closed lips. It was a sound that was difficult to distinguish as either laughter or a sob.

✧ ✧ ✧

A few months later, in the spring of 1835. In the second general election held after the reform of the election law, MacQueen Lester obtained the candidacy for the Westminster constituency through the recommendation of the Duke of Devonshire. With the support of the reform camp’s campaigning, he was elected as a member of parliament and successfully entered the House of Commons.

As a result of the general election, the seat distribution by party was 385 seats for the Whig Party, and 273 seats for the Conservatives—the Tory Party expanded and reorganized by the Prime Minister, the Duke of Cornwall. The Conservative Party, led by Edmund Wizfeldon, the Duke of Cornwall, failed to secure a majority, and the position of Prime Minister went to the leader of the Whig Party, Herald Lenzdoor, the Duke of Devonshire. It was a year in which the balance of power in the cabinet and parliament tilted toward the reformers.

Around the same time, two bodies surfaced in a stream on the outskirts of Northampton a few days apart. Police investigations revealed that both were a plumber and a servant who had worked at Worburn House, the grand estate of the Duke of Cornwall nearby. Ironically, the cause of death for both was the same: accidental drowning after slipping while heavily intoxicated.

That winter, MacQuan held a grand engagement ceremony with Lady Elisha Lenzdoor, the official adopted daughter of Herald Lenzdoor, the Duke of Devonshire. The political and physical union between the Prime Minister of the cabinet and a member of the House of Commons from a key constituency created the greatest synergy of the era. Despite being a mere engagement, the scale was considerable, with most major members of the House of Lords and House of Commons attending amidst grand celebrations from the royal family.

A few days after the engagement ceremony, an incident occurred where Count Vispilt of Cornwall, the legitimate son of the fallen former Prime Minister, fell into critical condition due to acute shock from opium overdose. Although he barely regained consciousness a few days later, the heir to the Duke of Cornwall’s house, whose daily life became impossible due to severe addiction symptoms, was admitted to a closed ward in the countryside for intensive treatment.

The incident was reported as a special bulletin in the Morning Chronicle, a progressive organ, thanks to an external whistleblower. Aaron Wizfeldon’s dissolute private life was subsequently mentioned in various newspapers and parliamentary organs, drawing a barrage of criticism from the press. Conservative media outlets such as The Times and The Examiner immediately published rebuttals and reviews, but the effect was minimal. The identity of the informant who leaked the information to the Chronicle remained unknown to the end.

Due to public opinion that had deteriorated beyond repair and the responsibility for the election defeat, the Duke of Cornwall relinquished all key positions within parliament and moved his residence to the Northampton Estate to treat his son. While the people of England mocked the fall of the foolish and arrogant son of a noble house, they highly praised Edmund’s sacrifice and love for his child and felt pity for his political downfall.

Edmund Wizfeldon of Cornwall.

Until the moment he turned away, he was a great Duke who represented England and was respected by the people.