🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 71
Don’t Kneel
Charlophe jerked his head back.
“Hup!”
His body felt light. As he blinked, he sensed movement outside. When he checked beneath the white blanket, he found that his covert uniform was gone and he was wearing a white tunic instead. There were no other clothes. The tunic was long enough to cover his thighs.
“Awake?”
“Where are we?”
“We came down to the harbor. The lightning got bad, so we stopped at an inn for now, but it doesn’t look like it’ll let up yet.”
Bang—
Lightning struck the ground.
“I lost consciousness…”
“Only for about thirty minutes. You woke up once while we were descending from the suppression front—do you remember?”
Charlophe groped for his hazy memories.
“Did I say anything strange?”
He didn’t have a clear answer.
“Not really.”
That was all he said. The uneasy silence was brief. Bang—another lightning strike. A flash lit up the air.
“There’s no point forcing ourselves through this rain. We’ll stay here tonight.”
Charlophe’s legs tangled in the blanket and he toppled to the side.
“…Ugh.”
“I’m starting to doubt you’re the same person.”
Benjamin brushed Charlophe’s side hair back.
“What do you mean, the same person?”
“You’re like a snail.”
He answered offhandedly.
“Slow. Your body’s gotten sluggish.”
“Ah…”
“Your pupillary reflex is slow too. It’s like you deliberately relaxed yourself.”
His pale skin had lost all color, tinged bluish.
“Is your vitality weakened? Your pulse is slow too. Low body temperature as well.”
“…At least I’m not injured.”
“Did you forget? An undead bit into your ankle.”
Charlophe felt for his ankle. It was wrapped in bandages.
“When they bite you, it’s easy for your consciousness to be eroded.”
He scolded him shortly, displeased.
“No wonder I felt so foggy—I must’ve been eroded by them.”
Outside, it was still dark.
“The suppression…”
“It’s over. The front has settled down too. The old woman was moved to a shelter by the mercenary group, and they said they’d check for monsters, so a report should come soon. Was it confirmed?”
“It ended in such a short time.”
“What are you looking at?”
Charlophe shuddered.
“You’re injured.”
“I just got scratched.”
“That’s not a scratch—it’s torn.”
Benjamin had bandages wrapped around his arm. A white compression bandage encircled his forearm, stained with vivid red blood.
“The healer overtreated it.”
The sharp herbal smell unique to painkillers hung in the air—herbs with anesthetic effects.
“The treatment’s finished. This is an inn mercenaries use, so there’s a resident healer.”
Living on the suppression front, he was already accustomed to small wounds.
“Forgive the cramped space. The dust might feel stifling.”
“It’s enough to avoid the rain.”
Charlophe’s delicate shoulders trembled. His knees wobbled.
Why does my throat feel so tight?
It was different from the suffocation he’d felt before.
When he knelt down, the loose tunic rode up.
“That posture isn’t good.”
The tunic barely covered Charlophe’s thighs.
“Don’t kneel.”
“My clothes…”
“The covert uniform was soaked all the way through. If I’d left it on, you’d have caught a cold. Is the tunic a bit big? I had a spare, so I put it on you. You shouldn’t underestimate Poputa’s rain. Pushing through it is hard—we’ll stay here for a day.”
Charlophe drew his knees up. The hem of the tunic brushed his skin. The sleeves were long, covering even the backs of his hands. When he lifted his arms to push the sleeves up, the tunic lifted with them. The waist was wide, flaring like a manta ray.
“I told you not to sit like that.”
The white tunic kept getting wrinkled. It didn’t even cover half his thighs—it was Benjamin’s shirt.
“What about the clothes I was wearing?”
“They were soaked, so I set them aside. Even though the covert uniform looks simple, it has a lot of layers. There wasn’t time to wake you and change you.”
His skin showed through the loose tunic.
“Don’t kneel.”
Charlophe propped his knees up and fell backward onto his backside.
“You look like a newborn colt. Your ankle joints look like they could snap any moment, yet you walk and run on legs like that.”
“A colt?”
“Weak. Too weak. Slender, like you’ll break any second.”
It was true—his knees had kept giving out.
“…You’re mocking me, right?”
“It was a plea not to turn me into a wretched dog.”
His fair skin was lean and smooth, but lacked the firm muscle to support it.
“If I don’t talk to you like this, I feel like I’ll lose my self-control.”
As Charlophe knelt and pulled the tunic down, an unfamiliar warmth brushed the back of his neck.
“You suffer alone, and then trip over your own feet.”
What is it?
What are you, right now?
That was all he could think.
“Do you want to be alone?”
“Stay with me.”
Charlophe grabbed his wrist and pulled.
“Even if everything else is set aside.”
Just stay like this today.
“It’s already too late.”
Then a short silence followed.
Surely not—
“You knew?”
Benjamin narrowed his eyes. So he knew his father was involved.
“When did you find out?”
“From the moment the old woman started looking for her son.”
“You knew pretty early.”
“When the Black Werewolf—the gravekeeper—appeared, I felt my father’s presence.”
Among worshippers—those who revere black sorcerers—some especially handle monsters.
“He didn’t die.”
“He couldn’t.”
That had strayed beyond the realm of death.
“That’s not ‘not dying’—it’s that he can’t die anymore.”
The downpour stopped.
In that quiet, he stayed awake late into the night.
“It’s quiet.”
The thin tunic carried his scent. Touching bare skin, it wrinkled easily. It was simple, with no lining.
The inn bed was old and creaked; every time he shifted, the space beneath groaned.
Old wood, dust, stale air—perhaps it was a shabby sight. Yet such a shabby place gave unparalleled rest.
Charlophe lay on his side.
When he stretched out his arm, he touched Benjamin’s chest. He wore only a thin tunic. Through the loose fabric, his collarbones showed.
“Your shoulder’s injured too.”
Charlophe traced his shoulder.
“If it’s scratched all the way to the collarbone, it went in deep. Did you not defend yourself from the start?”
From Pedlin’s sword lessons, he’d learned to roughly tell the nature of wounds at a glance.
These were the scars of someone who abandoned defense and chose attack.
“You told me not to do this.”
Yet he himself was injured like this.
“Is your abdomen hurt too?”
The thin tunic wrinkled.
His gaze followed the line of the trousers resting on Benjamin’s hips.
When he traced to the navel, below was firm. Contrary to what he expected, the skin was smooth.
When he pressed lightly, pressure pushed back against his fingertips.
It was hard, like pressing down on a solid board.
Thump—
Thump, thump—
The heartbeat was heavy, steady, regular.
His scent filled the air.
When they pressed foreheads together and he breathed deeply, everything felt strangely calm.
Was it because the rain had stopped?
Beside him, breathing ceased.
—Snap!
A hand seized his wrist roughly.
“Ugh!”
Charlophe groaned as his body flipped over. He collapsed beneath him.
They swallowed their breaths, holding back so their breathing wouldn’t mix.
“You awake?”
There was no answer.
Benjamin lifted his waist and looked down with low, sunken eyes.
“Are you going to keep touching?”
“Ah…”
“I let you sleep because you were sick.”
Eyes closed, Benjamin asked again,
“What were you looking at?”
The hand he let fall weakly touched the lower abdomen.
“It’s been a long time since I saw you this close.”
“Has it?”
“There’s a scar on your eyebrow.”
“If it had gone a little deeper, I’d have lost an eye.”
Benjamin caught Charlophe’s hand.
“Are you going to keep touching?”
“Ah—are you uncomfortable?”
“It’s fine. You can touch.”
Benjamin buried his face at Charlophe’s shoulder. Leaning in close, he rubbed his nose against the nape of his neck, pressing with the bridge of his nose. His fingertips brushed Charlophe’s collarbone, then groped downward, clutching the hem of the tunic.
“Charl.”
You’ve clearly forgotten what you look like right now.
You’ve lost your sense of tension. Or maybe you trust me too blindly.
“Did you know?”
“What?”
“I smell like you.”
The downpour had stopped.
“I like that. That your trace is left on me—it feels awkward and soft.”
The silence that followed was languid.
Perhaps that kind of quiet felt unfamiliar.
“You talk like a child.”
“The tunic’s a bit big on me.”
“Done touching?”
“Huh?”
“If you’re done, then it’s my turn, right?”
Benjamin pulled Charlophe down beneath him.
“You may have touched me like a child, but I’m not.”
“……”
“You tell me I smell like you—do you know how cruel that is? You have no idea how I feel right now.”
“How do you feel?”
“I want to put you in my mouth and bite you.”
With monsters raging outside, perhaps he’d lost his fear.
“I want to make you cry. I feel like a wretched beast.”
Benjamin bared his teeth and bit into his skin.
“So thin. So fragile.”
That fact weighed on him.
“What if I break you?”
Benjamin brushed his nose along Charlophe’s neck.
“It’s terrifying.”
“I don’t mind breaking.”
It was a slightly mad thing to say.
“If the day I break comes, as long as you’re beside me, that’s enough.”
“You say crazy things so calmly.”
Charlophe wrapped his arms around his neck.
When he tangled his hair, a faint earthy scent rose—herbs, soil, dew, their traces heavy.
“Ah…”
Charlophe groaned like a sigh.
Crunch—
His skin was bitten.
His body went slack in the haze. An alien sensation swept his neck, raking his skin.
Benjamin’s jaw pressed against Charlophe’s shoulder.
“You drive me mad.”
Benjamin pinned Charlophe’s hands above his head.
“Isn’t that your injured arm?”
“It’s nothing.”
He supported his weight on the injured arm.
“What if it gets worse?”
“Then I’ll just treat it again.”
Bandages could be rewrapped.
“Don’t push me away because I’m injured.”
The injured arm didn’t matter.
“We’re married.”
“That’s kind of strange.”
Heat flushed the back of his neck.
“Damn it.”
That was all Benjamin said.
It seemed there was more tangled emotion beneath, but he swallowed it.
“Do you know this?”
“What…”
“We’ve done everything except that.”
Charlophe swallowed.
“I’m thirsty.”
“I’m not a well.”
“If I dig here, won’t it become one?”
His mouth touched the delicate collarbone.
“Living among mercenaries has taught you nothing but blunt language.”
Benjamin lightly bit his earlobe.
“We’re married—so what? Even the imperial family lives the same as anyone else. They put someone at their side and crave them, hunger for them.”
“……”
“Like someone thirsty seeking a well, I cling to you.”
Charlophe arched his waist faintly.
“I’m still thirsty.”
Benjamin leaned in deeply, like plunging his head into a hollowed well.
They pressed close, bodies touching.
Holding their breath, stopping it—Benjamin felt the pulse.
Thump, thump—
Faint, thin, but regular.
Like its owner, the beat was weak.
The weak pulse bounced, tapping against the bridge of his nose.
Thirsty. When the vessels pulsed, the heartbeat answered.
His breath sank heavily.
I want to hold it.
To take it into his mouth, to fill himself with it.
To swallow it and sate this hunger.
Benjamin bared his teeth and bit into the skin.
