CHAPTER 12: THE DESIRE

[Leif’s POV — After the Hot Spring Incident]

I ran.

No—I sprinted. Bolted. Fled like a man possessed.

If speed alone could erase memories, I would’ve rewritten history by the time I reached my room. But no. NO. The universe was cruel. Because the moment I slammed the door shut, my brain decided to replay everything in horrifying, high-definition detail.

The lips. The heat. The tongue.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

My scream rattled the windows. Somewhere outside, my crimson babies and knights flinched. A bird probably died from shock.

I dropped to the floor, knees weak, clutching my chest like a war widow. "No. No no no, this cannot be happening. I... I kissed him."

Correction: He kissed me back.

Correction of correction: He kissed me like he was trying to devour my soul and claim it as property taxes.

I rolled onto my back, limbs spread like a tragic corpse. "Oh gods, my poor virgin lips. You never even knew the touch of innocence, and now you’ve been thrown into the abyss with no warning!"

And then it hit me. Like a rock to the face.

"That was... my first kiss."

I sat up slowly. Horror dawned across my face. My eyes glazed over. "Th—thi—THIS CAN’T BE!!!!!!"

I screamed like hell and began mumbling like a man who was possessed.

"It was supposed to be special. Magical. Like in those plays where rose petals fall from the sky and violins sing and someone whispers, ’I love you.’"

I clawed at my hair, pacing like a deranged scholar. "Instead, it was—steam, water, butt-grabbing, and a man built like a human siege weapon trying to bite my tongue off!!"

I grabbed a couch pillow and screamed into it until my lungs gave out.

"AAAAAAAGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

When I emerged, my hair stuck up in wild tufts. My dignity? Dead. Buried six feet under. My innocence? On fire.

I pointed at the ceiling dramatically. "Why him?! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?! Out of every man in this empire, why my sworn enemy?! Why not a baker? Or a stable boy? Or a random traveling bard with questionable hygiene?!"

I dropped to my knees again. "Why... Alvar Ragnulfsson?!"

The name alone sent a shiver down my spine. My lips tingled traitorously.

I slapped myself.

Smack!

"NO. You will NOT think about how good it felt."

Smack!

"You will NOT remember how warm his mouth was.

"Smack!"

You will NOT—ahh, gods, it was so good—NO!!!"

I collapsed dramatically across the carpet, limbs splayed, a young man slain by hormones.

My mind raced in circles. "Okay, think logically, Leif. Tomorrow, you will face him. You will look him in the eye and say—’Grand Duke, that kiss meant absolutely nothing. It was... an accident. Yes. I slipped. In water. And our lips collided. Accidentally. Multiple times. With tongue. As one does.’"

I nodded to myself firmly. "Perfect. What a flawless, ironclad plan. Absolutely no holes."

. . .

. . .

. . .

Then reality slapped me across the face.

I slumped onto the carpet like a fish yeeted onto land, pillow clutched to my chest. "...But... I was the one who kissed first."

Truly, I was a worm. A disgraceful, wriggling worm of shame.

And then—

CREEEAAAAK.

The door cracked open.

"My lord, I heard you scream—" Nick’s voice rang out, but then he froze mid-step. His eyes bulged as he took in the sight of me: sprawled like a tragic corpse, hair wild, dignity deceased.

He gasped so loudly I thought his soul might escape. "MY LORD!!! WHAT HAPPENED?! WHO HURT YOU?! SHOULD I KILL THEM?!"

He rushed over and dropped beside me, clutching my shoulders like a mother hen discovering her chick had been mugged.

I turned my head slowly, eyes hollow, voice dead. "...Nick... just bury me beneath the ground. I’ve committed... a grave sin."

Nick clutched his chest in horror. "Don’t say such things, my lord! You are a man with an angel’s heart! If there is a crime, then... THEN LET ME BE BURIED INSTEAD!"

I blinked at him. "You... you’d be buried for me?"

He nodded, face glowing like he’d been chosen by the gods themselves. "YES. BECAUSE I, NICK—LOYAL SERVANT, FAITHFUL COMPANION, LIGHT OF YOUR PATH—HAVE DECIDED TO SERVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!"

His declaration rang through the room like a war anthem. Honestly, the sheer brightness of his devotion nearly blinded me.

"...I really got a good servant," I whispered, overcome.

Nick’s jaw tightened with determination. His eyes burned with holy fire. "No, my lord. You got the BEST servant. A man who will carry your sins, fight your battles, eat your leftovers, and—if necessary—let himself be struck by lightning in your place."

I opened my mouth, closed it, then sighed. "...Nick, you’re insane."

He ignored me completely, scooping up my limp hands with the reverence of a priest.

And then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—he started dragging me across the carpet.

"Up we go, my lord. To bed. Come on. One, two, heave—"

I flailed helplessly, flopping like a sack of potatoes being hauled to market. "NICK—STOP! THIS ISN’T DIGNIFIED!"

"Dignity is meaningless when your mental health is at stake!" he barked, pulling me onto the bed like I weighed nothing. He fluffed the pillow, tucked me in, and patted my hair like I was some toddler who’d just lost his toy.

"There. Rest now. Forget your sins. Tomorrow is a new day."

But... he was right. Yes. Sleep. Sleep would erase this day. Tomorrow, I would rise, eat pastries, and pretend lips had never touched lips. That was the plan.

***

[Alvar’s Pov—Guest Room—Later]

I sat on the couch near the fire, the shadows of the flames flickering across the glass of wine in my hand. The crimson liquid swirled lazily, but my thoughts were anything but calm.

My fingers drifted to my lips before I even realized it. That kiss.

I pressed against my mouth as if to confirm it had truly happened. "That wasn’t... bad," I murmured, my voice low, unfamiliar.

When Leif told me he liked men, I had thought it was another of his foolish lies. A ridiculous joke, like so many that tumbled carelessly from his lips. I hadn’t believed him for a second. But then—again, in the hot springs—when he insisted, "I like kissing men," I had reached my limit. Enough of his falsehoods. Enough of his teasing.

So I tested him. I moved closer.

And then—he kissed me back.

Not as some jest, not as a passing brush, but real. His lips trembled, yes, but there was no hesitation. No retreat. And in that instant, the world seemed to fracture in my hands.

I closed my eyes, remembering the way my control had slipped—how what should have been a mere test had turned into something far darker. Hungrier. The more I kissed him, the more I wanted to consume him whole. To devour him until there was nothing left but mine.

"What... is this feeling?" I muttered under my breath, fingers lingering against my lips as though they might yield the answer.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sound snapped me out of the haze.

The door creaked, and Captain Haldor stepped inside, his armor whispering faintly with each movement. He looked reluctant, almost... sad.

"My lord," he began carefully, "do we really need to leave tomorrow?"

I lifted my gaze, one brow arching at his tone. He hesitated before continuing, "I thought we would stay until after the greenhouse project... but I heard you’ve decided to depart sooner."

His loyalty was to me, yes, but even I could see the attachment in his eyes—the Crimson Pack. He had grown fond of them, perhaps even protective.

I let the silence drag, sipping from my glass before answering.

That was the plan. I considered hiring an archmage to oversee the greenhouse. My presence here is not... necessary. But...

Haldor voice came again. "My lord?"

With a faint smirk, setting the glass aside, leaning back in the chair as the fire carved shadows over my face.

"We are not leaving yet. Haldor."

His eyes widened with surprise. "Really? My lord?"

"Yes. There are... matters left unfinished. Promises unkept." My gaze darkened, my voice dropping to a near growl. "How could I leave Leif... when I told him I would see this project through?"

Haldor blinked. My lips curved slightly, not quite a smile—something sharper.

I need to understand why I kissed him. Why the taste of him still lingers. Why the hunger only grows for him.

The fire crackled, shadows stretching longer across the chamber.

And with that, I knew one truth for certain:

I could not—would not—leave Leif alone.