Chapter 42
“What on earth happened?”
Duke Valdeck demanded, his voice low but sharp as he turned to his wife.
Of course, he had been mindful enough to wait until they were alone on the balcony, away from prying eyes.
“Sigmund must have completely lost his mind. To think he’d actually bring that good-for-nothing here.”
The duchess pressed her hand against her forehead, her tone full of irritation.
And with good reason — she had gone to great lengths to ensure that tonight’s ball was attended by the young nobles she had carefully invited, most of whom were heirs of houses close to the Duke of Valdeck.
But Sigmund had ruined that by publicly flaunting his relationship with Josef Pomozhein in front of everyone. There was no way the gossip wouldn’t spread.
“I don’t even know how I’m supposed to face Count Regin now.”
Count Regin, who guarded the borderlands of Hessen, was a rigid knight loyal only to the kingdom — much like the Duke himself. He had yet to take sides between the first and second princes, instead devoting himself solely to his duties.
For that reason, the Duke had been looking forward to introducing Sigmund to the Count’s daughter at this very ball.
“Tsk, tsk.”
The Duke clicked his tongue in clear disapproval. Even if the Regin family came from the fringes, they were still a valuable piece on the board.
“In the end, he’s nothing but trouble. I suppose it’s time he finally served his true purpose.”
His cold gaze shifted down toward the terrace below, where Arnulf and Sigmund were just stepping out of the mansion.
* * *
Arnulf descended the steps, his expression tight. Sigmund followed closely behind.
The waiting coachman hurried to open the carriage door.
Arnulf climbed in without a word or glance back, and Sigmund naturally took the seat beside him by the window.
Just as the carriage passed through the Valdeck gates, Arnulf finally spoke.
“Don’t do that again.”
“I’m sorry if I made things difficult for you.”
Though Sigmund apologized, he never actually said he wouldn’t do it again.
Arnulf noticed this and sighed quietly.
“Then at least tell me—why did you do it?”
Sigmund looked into Arnulf’s calm eyes and realized again:
Yes, it really is him.
There was no mistaking it. That gaze could belong to no one else.
“The Duke set conditions for me. That’s why I had to go.”
Arnulf frowned slightly. Conditions. That was a word he’d been hearing far too often lately.
“If he set conditions, shouldn’t you have followed them properly instead of doing the opposite?”
“It’s fine, because you were there.”
Sigmund smiled softly as he said it, but Arnulf looked puzzled.
“What kind of conditions were they?”
“Arnulf.”
Arnulf’s eyes froze. Hearing his name spoken so naturally startled him.
“Yes?”
“It was about your matter.”
Ah… so it wasn’t that Sigmund was just calling his name. Relief washed over him—but confusion followed quickly.
“What do you mean?”
How could his business have become a condition? None of it made sense.
“The Duke said that if I truly wanted to investigate your death properly, I had to follow his orders. There’s a limit to what I can uncover on my own.”
So Sigmund was still suspicious about the circumstances of his death. It made sense that the Duke would exploit that to control him.
An unpleasant emotion surged in Arnulf’s chest. It infuriated him that Sigmund, of all people, was being manipulated over his death.
“But it’s all over now, isn’t it?”
“Not for me.”
“Why…?”
Even the Queen herself had covered up the incident. It was long past time to let it rest. Wouldn’t it be better for Sigmund to move on and live for himself?
“Because he was someone precious to me.”
Sigmund’s gaze fixed straight on Arnulf. Perhaps it was the darkness, but his violet eyes looked unusually subdued tonight.
“Sigmund.”
Arnulf wished Sigmund would stop clinging to that past. If only he could say, I’m alive and well—so live your life too.
But…
Even if the truth were revealed, would Sigmund be able to believe it?
“You might not want to know the truth.”
So Arnulf deflected, and in a way, that was closer to his true feelings.
He didn’t want it. That was already part of his past—something that should stay buried.
“You wouldn’t want to know?”
There was something strange about the way Sigmund asked that.
After a brief pause, Arnulf nodded slowly.
“Yes. If I were the one involved.”
He thought it harmless enough to say that—until he realized it might hurt Sigmund. After all, it had been Josef who’d played the decisive role in his death.
To tell Sigmund to forget it, to say it didn’t matter anymore… it was thoughtless.
Maybe it was just the mood of the evening. Arnulf made an awkward excuse to himself and hurried to amend his words.
“I’m sorry. What I meant was—”
But he never finished.
Without warning, Sigmund’s thumb brushed against his lower lip.
Sigmund’s gaze deepened as his fingers traced Arnulf’s face—over his cheek, near his eyes, up to his forehead, and into his hair—searching, as if trying to uncover something hidden.
Arnulf was caught by those violet eyes and couldn’t push him away.
“…Yes, I suppose someone like you would say that.”
Sigmund’s hand slid down from Arnulf’s hair to his neck, long and slender, completely engulfed by his large palm.
Through the window, the full moon poured in—its pale light glinting over Arnulf’s smooth, flawless skin.
“But I can’t accept that. I have to know the truth. No matter who tries to stop me.”
No—because it’s you, I can’t let it go.
His hand tightened slightly around Arnulf’s nape, holding him still as his face drew closer.
Arnulf’s eyes widened. He could already sense what was coming.
His instincts were right.
Warm, soft lips pressed against his own.
The thought that he should push him away never quite formed. The sorrow and intensity in Sigmund’s expression made it impossible.
“…Why aren’t you pulling away?”
Sigmund spoke teasingly once he broke the kiss, though his tone was gentle.
Arnulf looked at him briefly, then turned toward the window.
“You said you wouldn’t do it in front of people.”
Sigmund blinked, then smiled—the corners of his eyes curling into a beautiful arc.
“So, since it’s just the two of us now… may I do it again?”
It sounded like a question, but before Arnulf could even think, Sigmund tilted his chin and their lips met once more.
Arnulf’s eyes widened again, but this time he didn’t resist. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, until he found himself gripping Sigmund’s shoulder just to stay steady.
Perhaps Sigmund mistook that for an attempt to flee, because he pressed closer, caging Arnulf between himself and the wall of the carriage.
That was when Arnulf felt it—an undeniable presence pressing against his thigh.
“Hah…”
Their lips broke apart, breath mingling heavily. Arnulf’s gaze flickered downward almost involuntarily.
“Where are you looking?”
Sigmund, displeased by even that brief distraction, caught Arnulf’s chin and tilted it back up.
“I…”
It was only natural, given how deep that last kiss had been—but still, this was Sigmund. The realization that he had reacted this way toward him made Arnulf’s thoughts whirl.
Was he supposed to take responsibility for this now, too?
And then, unbidden, the memory of that hotel night surfaced—heat, chaos, and half-forgotten sensations. He remembered enough to know it hadn’t been a dream.
The thought made his green eyes tremble with confusion, and Sigmund noticed immediately.
“Are you embarrassed?”
There was laughter in his voice. And yes, Arnulf was embarrassed—though not entirely because of the kiss.
“…No.”
Even so, he didn’t want to admit that he was shaken.
“That’s a relief. I, for one, rather enjoy moments like this with you.”
You don’t dislike it either, do you?
Sigmund’s smile this time carried a mischievous glint.
Arnulf gave him a helpless look, but soon forgot even that as Sigmund’s fingers brushed over his lips again.
He felt his ears burn. His body wasn’t obeying his mind.
Arnulf pretended to rub his face, gently pushing Sigmund’s hand away, and turned toward the window. He could still feel the warmth of Sigmund’s gaze on his cheek, but couldn’t bring himself to look back.
Sigmund, however, no longer hesitated to touch him. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to touch him more.
If you knew what I’m thinking right now, would you be shocked?
The thought made him chuckle softly.
“When we get back, what will you do?”
“I’m not sure.”
Maybe have a cup of tea, read a few pages from the training manual Sigmund had given him, and then go to bed.
Or perhaps take out his sword, polish it a bit, and turn in afterward.
“In that case, will you share a drink with me?”
Sigmund smiled—radiant and beautiful as moonlight.
Arnulf, caught in that gentle glow, nodded before he even realized it.
