CHAPTER 17: ONE BED, INFINITE PROBLEMS

[Leif’s POV – Thorenvald Estate, Leif’s Chambers]

The gods must really hate me.

That’s the only explanation I have for why, out of all possible solutions in the world—snow caves, chicken coops, even building a luxury igloo—Alvar decided that sharing a room with me was the "most logical" option.

Now here I am. Standing in my own chamber. Watching him place his sword neatly by the bedside like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Meanwhile, I’m clutching my pillow like a maiden about to be sacrificed to a dragon.

"I... I can sleep on the couch," I blurted.

He didn’t even spare me a glance, just removed his gloves and said flatly, "...And for how many days?" Then, with those cold glacier eyes, he added, "We don’t know how long the Crown Prince and Princess Sirella will stay. And you, Leif, sleeping on a couch every night will only get you... back pain."

I trembled.

Damn him—he was right. Sleep is sacred. Holy. The only reason I wake up every morning. If I sacrificed it, I’d wake up one day not as Count Leif... but as a wrinkled cucumber.

Before I could argue further, he stepped closer. Too close. His shadow swallowed mine.

"Don’t worry, Leif..." His voice dipped low, his eyes shamelessly fixed on my lips. "It’s only for a few nights."

ONLY A FEW NIGHTS?!

Fuck!!! He’s already this intimidating after five minutes in my room—how the hell am I supposed to survive nights of this?!

"I—I can even sleep on the floor!" I squeaked.

That finally earned me a raised brow. "...The floor?"

"Yes! The floor. Very sturdy. Very supportive. Builds character. Builds resilience! Honestly, I highly recommend it. I’ll love it."

His lips curved—the faintest, most dangerous smirk. "...Leif, this isn’t a battlefield."

Then, with no shame whatsoever, he walked towards the bed, peeled off his coat, and tossed it onto the chair. His voice rumbled as he pulled the blanket back:

"We’ll share the bed. Unless..." His eyes flicked to me, slow and deliberate. "...you want me to lift you and tuck you under the blanket myself."

. . .

. . .

I nearly dropped dead on the spot.

My rainbow baby screeched: ’WARNING! WARNING! MAN IS ABOUT TO INITIATE WIFE-CARRY MODE!’

...And yet, somehow, my legs betrayed me. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the bed. Beside him. Tucking myself completely under the blanket like a burrito offering itself to a Dragon.

Alvar, of course, wasn’t having it. He reached over and tugged the blanket down from my face. His cool voice dropped low.

"You’ll suffocate this way."

I peeked up at him—just in time to catch the faintest, most devastatingly gentle smile curving his lips. I panicked. Immediately turned my back to him like some tragic drama heroine.

Damn it! He’s way too handsome to sleep beside me.

Sigh... it’s fine. As long as I don’t cross the boundary, I’ll be safe. Totally safe. Nothing bad can happen.

Then his voice came, soft in the dim candlelight, "Leif... can I ask you something?"

"...If I say no, will you not ask?" I muttered into the pillow.

"No. I’ll still ask."

I twisted halfway around to glare at him. "...Then why even bother asking?"

That earned me a faint smile. He asked anyway. "How did you know... that you like men?"

...Huh?

I blinked at him. Then blinked again and thought..."I guess...During my college days."

He frowned, puzzled. "College?"

. . .

. . .

Oh SHIT. How could I forget it? This world didn’t have high schools and colleges. They had academies and tutors for nobles.

I coughed violently, smacking my chest as if that would fix my brain. "I—I mean... just two years ago."

He studied me carefully, eyes narrowing in thought. "...Then why did you look at Elowen like you liked her?"

Well...because that wasn’t me but the original Leif!

"I..." My tongue tripped over itself. "... I thought if I liked a girl—if I put someone like her beside me—maybe these feelings would stop."

He said nothing, only watched me, and I continued, "...But they didn’t. I couldn’t stop how I felt about men. So I... decided to separate myself from the world instead."

For a while, silence. Then...

The mattress dipped. He had slid closer. Too close. I felt the warmth of his body even through the blanket.

"Then..." his voice was lower now, dangerous, "... Which man made you realize it? Which man did your heart choose?"

My breath hitched. My eyes locked with his. My heart thundered as I looked at him.

And suddenly, unbidden, I remembered it.

The hot spring.His lips against mine.The way his hand slid—down, down—until it reached my butt—

. . .

. . .

WAIT. WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING?!

Abort. Abort mission.

I flipped violently, presenting him my back again like a turtle retreating into its shell. My voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched. "T-that’s... personal. I would not like to answer."

I didn’t see his face. But I felt his stare. Heavy. Lingering. Stretching across my back like a weight. It stayed there. For seconds. Long, endless seconds.

And only when my heartbeat was drumming louder than a war march... did he finally shift.

I closed my eyes.

Pretended to sleep until I slept for real.

***

[Alvar’s POV — Night, Thorenvald Estate]

Why...

Why do I feel this way?

The moment Leif muttered that he had once liked someone else, an unfamiliar burn twisted in my chest. Irritation. No—more than irritation. Something darker. Something I shouldn’t allow myself.

The thought of him looking at another man, smiling at another man... it clawed at me in ways I cannot name.

My gaze slid toward him.

He had already turned away from me, shoulders stiff, and fell asleep. And yet... within moments, his breathing softened. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

...Sleeping soundly.

Of course. Only Leif could fall asleep in the same bed as me—the man the empire calls cold steel—and sprawl as though he owned the place.

I leaned closer despite myself. My eyes traced the line of his cheek, the lashes that rested gently against his skin, and the faint parting of his lips.

Strange.

Why does he seem... more beautiful like this?

Unconsciously, my mind betrayed me, dragging me back to that night at the hot spring. The kiss. His startled gasp against my lips. The way his body yielded beneath my hand before he shoved me away.

My jaw clenched. I pulled back slightly, forcing the memory down. A sigh escaped before I could stop it.

"Damn it!... Why do I keep losing my mind?"

After that kiss, I only wanted to draw closer. To understand this strange pull inside me towards him. And yet—the more time I spend with him, the more control I lose.

Could this be an illness? A condition? Should I consult a physician—

"Mmm..."

The sound dragged me out of thought.

Leif shifted, blankets sliding off him. One leg swung over my body, claiming half the bed. His arms spread recklessly wide, elbows jutting, as though even in slumber he declared war on personal space.

I exhaled sharply through my nose. "How can someone sleep like this?"

I tried—briefly—to tuck him back into the blanket. Futile. He kicked it off, sprawled again, mouth parting in soft breath.

And then—He moved closer, right into my chest and yet I didn’t feel disgusted; instead, my heart stuttered. Stopped. Then it thundered in my ribs with the violence of a war drum.

His head rested against me, his breath warm through the linen. Too close. Far too close.

I froze. My arms refused to move. My composure—so carefully trained, so ruthlessly built—cracked. He burrowed deeper. His nose brushed against my chest, his leg curled over mine, and I—

...Could not look away.

Every detail seared into me. The soft curve of his lips. The faint scent of soap clinging to his hair. The heat of his body pressed to mine.

"...Beautiful."

The word left me before I realized it.

This was the first time I had ever seen him so close. Not as Count Leif Thorenvald, a strong, powerful noble. But as... something else. Something far more dangerous.

Someone I could no longer place neatly in my world.

My hand moved on its own. I pulled him closer, tucking the blanket around him. He sighed, content, as though he belonged there. As though I were not the cold, untouchable Grand Duke people call—but simply warmth. Safety.

His leg was still draped over me. His face nestled against my chest. And my heart beat faster each second.

That night, as I held him in my arms, one truth settled in me like snow falling over steel:

I WANT HIM...MORE!!

No matter how much it unravels me.