Chapter 102
Seth’s fingertips brushed softly against Yi-Gyeol’s cheek as he asked in a low voice, “How is your body feeling?”
When Yi-Gyeol opened his eyes, he was momentarily taken aback by the gentleness in Seth’s gaze. A quiet gratitude stirred in his chest, but he answered evenly, almost too calmly, “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie.”
As expected, he’d been seen through instantly.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t move at all. His limbs obeyed him, though sluggishly, and his strength was nowhere near what it should’ve been. Below the waist, his body felt strangely numb. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of their relentless lovemaking—but the unsettled feeling deep inside told him it wasn’t just that.
“It’s because someone was so merciless...” Yi-Gyeol mumbled, lowering his gaze, a shy flush creeping into his cheeks.
Seth responded by wrapping an arm around his waist, pressing gently against the small of his back, fingers working slow circles over sore muscles. The ache where Seth had bitten him earlier tingled at the renewed touch, more tender now than painful.
“I adjusted,” Seth murmured, voice low and close to his ear. “But if it’s this bad... I guess I really do need to build your stamina.”
Even if he did, would it ever be enough? Could anything really satisfy this man?
Not that it mattered. It was unlikely they’d do this again.
The thought struck cold. Yi-Gyeol’s expression darkened. Thankfully, the room around them was dim, hiding the shift in his face.
“Joo Yi-Gyeol.”
He glanced up. Their eyes met in the shadowed room, and in that gaze, something unspoken passed between them, more honest than words.
“I didn’t have sex with you just to give you vitality,” Seth said, cupping Yi-Gyeol’s face in one hand. His thumb brushed lightly beneath his eye, as though trying to smooth away something unshed. “And it’s not because you begged for marks.”
Yi-Gyeol understood immediately what he meant—and his heart began to race.
Seth held his gaze, unwavering. “What about you?” he asked. “Did you open your body just to receive vitality?”
At that, Yi-Gyeol’s pulse slowed again, like a pendulum swinging in reverse. The question was clear. The answer lived in his chest, but the weight of it held him still.
If he wanted to, he could’ve answered right away.
Of course not.
But the words stayed lodged in his throat.
‘You know, Seth.’
They fluttered there, silent and stubborn.
‘I like you. But I can’t love you.’
Yi-Gyeol clamped down on the rising feelings, willing them to dissolve. He warned himself with quiet finality: *If I love him, I’ll start expecting. I’ll start wanting.*
Maybe the hunger for Seth’s marks had been more than desperation—maybe it had been that buried desire peeking through.
*I can’t afford to want anything more from you.*
From the moment they met, Seth had given him more than Yi-Gyeol had ever dared wish for—even going so far as to risk his life. Yi-Gyeol couldn’t ask for more. He shouldn’t. So he hoped, perhaps foolishly, that whatever feelings Seth harbored would simply fade away. Because if Seth started wanting something from him, Yi-Gyeol wouldn’t be able to give it, and they had to stay apart.
Seth said nothing. He just waited—still, patient, hand unmoving against his waist, his caress around Yi-Gyeol’s eyes falling away.
"...So?" he prompted at last.
Yi-Gyeol parted his lips. His voice was quiet, careful. “Does there need to be another reason?”
A flicker passed through Seth’s expression, but his eyes remained fixed on Yi-Gyeol’s.
“I want to live a long life,” Yi-Gyeol added, his lips twitching into a stiff, awkward smile, “as someone useful to you.”
He hesitated, then continued, voice steadier now. “You used to leave marks, if only for appearances. But now it’s not even like that. We haven’t even kissed much lately.”
It spilled out easily after that, like reading lines from a script he’d rehearsed too many times.
“I was worried, honestly. When you become emperor, you’ll be too busy to keep giving me vitality regularly. I was afraid you’d start neglecting me...”
“You think I’d abandon you?”
“Well... who knows?” Yi-Gyeol forced a light laugh, but there was no mirth in it. “Once you’re emperor, you’ll need others by your side. For heirs.”
Just saying the word made his chest tighten.
Despite the ache gnawing at him, Yi-Gyeol reached up and touched Seth’s face, mirroring the way Seth had done moments ago. “I’m too tired to move,” he said softly. “Give me some vitality.”
The deliberate emphasis on that word—*vitality*—made Seth’s gaze turn cold.
Without a word, he pushed Yi-Gyeol back onto the bed. His body followed, closing the space between them, and then his mouth crashed against Yi-Gyeol’s, tongue demanding and angry. Yi-Gyeol accepted it, eyes slipping shut, unwilling—or unable—to meet his gaze.
Lately, even when the sun was at its brightest, Yi-Gyeol could barely rouse himself from sleep. Seth would sit beside him, silently watching, then leave the room without a word. Today was no different. As he departed, Renoc trailed behind like a shadow.
“Your Highness,” Renoc said, his tone rare with admonishment. “There’s still so much left to do.”
Seth had holed himself up in the bedroom, abandoning the mountain of official duties awaiting him. Everything had fallen to Baron Erzen Lumen, with only the most essential orders funneled through Renoc. The man did his best, but the backlog was growing impossible. Rumor had it, if you passed by the office, you could hear Baron Erzen’s dying groans echoing through the door.
Still, Seth said nothing. He kept walking, his footsteps resolute.
*Does there need to be another reason?*
*I want to live a long life as someone useful to you.*
Yi-Gyeol’s words looped through Seth’s mind, twisting something in his chest.
When Yi-Gyeol had come to find him in the stone tower without caring about Zair’s temptations, Seth had thought it was all over. That Yi-Gyeol had finally become someone who could think of no one but him. That whatever happened, he’d choose Seth.
But now...
This wasn’t what he expected.
Yi-Gyeol had always been someone desperate for belonging, overwhelmed by loneliness—and Seth had used that. But this...
*This feels wrong.*
It wasn’t the distancing words, or the way Yi-Gyeol had emphasized ‘vitality.’ It wasn’t even that Yi-Gyeol’s feelings might not mirror his own.
Something deeper was off.
There were no stutters in his speech. No flinches. No trembling hands or faltering gaze. His face had been calm. Too calm.
That wasn't like Yi-Gyeol.
And there was something else. Before they’d slept together, Yi-Gyeol had cried like he was dying. That hadn’t been just loneliness.
Was he acting?
Had he done this with others before?
A harsh grinding sound echoed in Seth’s head.
'What are you hiding, Yi-Gyeol?'
He came to a sudden stop in the corridor. The question nagged at him, louder than Renoc’s footsteps behind him.
“Your Highness?” Renoc blinked, confused. “The coronation is tomorrow. If we don’t finish the preparations today...”
“I’m going to the Magic Tower,” Seth said flatly, his voice void of expression.
“What?” Renoc snapped open his pocket watch, eyes wide. “There’s no time. If it’s urgent, I’ll ask Kirsty—”
But Seth was already walking away, ignoring him.
He knew Yi-Gyeol’s condition well enough. But Roa, the Tower Lord, might know more. Might help. Might explain what Seth couldn’t name.
Renoc’s protests followed behind him, fading with each determined step.
* * *
Inside the quiet room, after the door had long closed, Yi-Gyeol slowly opened his eyes. With great effort, he sat up.
Usually, he would’ve feigned sleep when Seth came, or pretended the lingering exhaustion from their encounter still held him under. But today... he’d reached his limit.
It’s probably too much to hope I’ll see the coronation.
He didn’t want to go.
He wanted to stay.
But he knew better. So he began to move.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly, testing his strength. His hands curled into fists, then released. His muscles were weaker than they used to be—but they’d hold.
He changed into the clothes that had been set aside: a plain white shirt, modest trousers, a light jacket in soft colors. No embroidery. No decoration. Just simple, serviceable fabric.
From a drawer, he retrieved the sleep aid necklace and fastened it around his neck. The cool glass nestled against his skin, drawing out the warmth of his fingers as he gripped it tightly.
Taking a long, steady breath, Yi-Gyeol turned his gaze to the door.
Kirsty would be waiting beyond it.
His eyes sharpened, full of quiet resolve.
When Yi-Gyeol opened his eyes, he was momentarily taken aback by the gentleness in Seth’s gaze. A quiet gratitude stirred in his chest, but he answered evenly, almost too calmly, “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie.”
As expected, he’d been seen through instantly.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t move at all. His limbs obeyed him, though sluggishly, and his strength was nowhere near what it should’ve been. Below the waist, his body felt strangely numb. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of their relentless lovemaking—but the unsettled feeling deep inside told him it wasn’t just that.
“It’s because someone was so merciless...” Yi-Gyeol mumbled, lowering his gaze, a shy flush creeping into his cheeks.
Seth responded by wrapping an arm around his waist, pressing gently against the small of his back, fingers working slow circles over sore muscles. The ache where Seth had bitten him earlier tingled at the renewed touch, more tender now than painful.
“I adjusted,” Seth murmured, voice low and close to his ear. “But if it’s this bad... I guess I really do need to build your stamina.”
Even if he did, would it ever be enough? Could anything really satisfy this man?
Not that it mattered. It was unlikely they’d do this again.
The thought struck cold. Yi-Gyeol’s expression darkened. Thankfully, the room around them was dim, hiding the shift in his face.
“Joo Yi-Gyeol.”
He glanced up. Their eyes met in the shadowed room, and in that gaze, something unspoken passed between them, more honest than words.
“I didn’t have sex with you just to give you vitality,” Seth said, cupping Yi-Gyeol’s face in one hand. His thumb brushed lightly beneath his eye, as though trying to smooth away something unshed. “And it’s not because you begged for marks.”
Yi-Gyeol understood immediately what he meant—and his heart began to race.
Seth held his gaze, unwavering. “What about you?” he asked. “Did you open your body just to receive vitality?”
At that, Yi-Gyeol’s pulse slowed again, like a pendulum swinging in reverse. The question was clear. The answer lived in his chest, but the weight of it held him still.
If he wanted to, he could’ve answered right away.
Of course not.
But the words stayed lodged in his throat.
‘You know, Seth.’
They fluttered there, silent and stubborn.
‘I like you. But I can’t love you.’
Yi-Gyeol clamped down on the rising feelings, willing them to dissolve. He warned himself with quiet finality: *If I love him, I’ll start expecting. I’ll start wanting.*
Maybe the hunger for Seth’s marks had been more than desperation—maybe it had been that buried desire peeking through.
*I can’t afford to want anything more from you.*
From the moment they met, Seth had given him more than Yi-Gyeol had ever dared wish for—even going so far as to risk his life. Yi-Gyeol couldn’t ask for more. He shouldn’t. So he hoped, perhaps foolishly, that whatever feelings Seth harbored would simply fade away. Because if Seth started wanting something from him, Yi-Gyeol wouldn’t be able to give it, and they had to stay apart.
Seth said nothing. He just waited—still, patient, hand unmoving against his waist, his caress around Yi-Gyeol’s eyes falling away.
"...So?" he prompted at last.
Yi-Gyeol parted his lips. His voice was quiet, careful. “Does there need to be another reason?”
A flicker passed through Seth’s expression, but his eyes remained fixed on Yi-Gyeol’s.
“I want to live a long life,” Yi-Gyeol added, his lips twitching into a stiff, awkward smile, “as someone useful to you.”
He hesitated, then continued, voice steadier now. “You used to leave marks, if only for appearances. But now it’s not even like that. We haven’t even kissed much lately.”
It spilled out easily after that, like reading lines from a script he’d rehearsed too many times.
“I was worried, honestly. When you become emperor, you’ll be too busy to keep giving me vitality regularly. I was afraid you’d start neglecting me...”
“You think I’d abandon you?”
“Well... who knows?” Yi-Gyeol forced a light laugh, but there was no mirth in it. “Once you’re emperor, you’ll need others by your side. For heirs.”
Just saying the word made his chest tighten.
Despite the ache gnawing at him, Yi-Gyeol reached up and touched Seth’s face, mirroring the way Seth had done moments ago. “I’m too tired to move,” he said softly. “Give me some vitality.”
The deliberate emphasis on that word—*vitality*—made Seth’s gaze turn cold.
Without a word, he pushed Yi-Gyeol back onto the bed. His body followed, closing the space between them, and then his mouth crashed against Yi-Gyeol’s, tongue demanding and angry. Yi-Gyeol accepted it, eyes slipping shut, unwilling—or unable—to meet his gaze.
Lately, even when the sun was at its brightest, Yi-Gyeol could barely rouse himself from sleep. Seth would sit beside him, silently watching, then leave the room without a word. Today was no different. As he departed, Renoc trailed behind like a shadow.
“Your Highness,” Renoc said, his tone rare with admonishment. “There’s still so much left to do.”
Seth had holed himself up in the bedroom, abandoning the mountain of official duties awaiting him. Everything had fallen to Baron Erzen Lumen, with only the most essential orders funneled through Renoc. The man did his best, but the backlog was growing impossible. Rumor had it, if you passed by the office, you could hear Baron Erzen’s dying groans echoing through the door.
Still, Seth said nothing. He kept walking, his footsteps resolute.
*Does there need to be another reason?*
*I want to live a long life as someone useful to you.*
Yi-Gyeol’s words looped through Seth’s mind, twisting something in his chest.
When Yi-Gyeol had come to find him in the stone tower without caring about Zair’s temptations, Seth had thought it was all over. That Yi-Gyeol had finally become someone who could think of no one but him. That whatever happened, he’d choose Seth.
But now...
This wasn’t what he expected.
Yi-Gyeol had always been someone desperate for belonging, overwhelmed by loneliness—and Seth had used that. But this...
*This feels wrong.*
It wasn’t the distancing words, or the way Yi-Gyeol had emphasized ‘vitality.’ It wasn’t even that Yi-Gyeol’s feelings might not mirror his own.
Something deeper was off.
There were no stutters in his speech. No flinches. No trembling hands or faltering gaze. His face had been calm. Too calm.
That wasn't like Yi-Gyeol.
And there was something else. Before they’d slept together, Yi-Gyeol had cried like he was dying. That hadn’t been just loneliness.
Was he acting?
Had he done this with others before?
A harsh grinding sound echoed in Seth’s head.
'What are you hiding, Yi-Gyeol?'
He came to a sudden stop in the corridor. The question nagged at him, louder than Renoc’s footsteps behind him.
“Your Highness?” Renoc blinked, confused. “The coronation is tomorrow. If we don’t finish the preparations today...”
“I’m going to the Magic Tower,” Seth said flatly, his voice void of expression.
“What?” Renoc snapped open his pocket watch, eyes wide. “There’s no time. If it’s urgent, I’ll ask Kirsty—”
But Seth was already walking away, ignoring him.
He knew Yi-Gyeol’s condition well enough. But Roa, the Tower Lord, might know more. Might help. Might explain what Seth couldn’t name.
Renoc’s protests followed behind him, fading with each determined step.
* * *
Inside the quiet room, after the door had long closed, Yi-Gyeol slowly opened his eyes. With great effort, he sat up.
Usually, he would’ve feigned sleep when Seth came, or pretended the lingering exhaustion from their encounter still held him under. But today... he’d reached his limit.
It’s probably too much to hope I’ll see the coronation.
He didn’t want to go.
He wanted to stay.
But he knew better. So he began to move.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly, testing his strength. His hands curled into fists, then released. His muscles were weaker than they used to be—but they’d hold.
He changed into the clothes that had been set aside: a plain white shirt, modest trousers, a light jacket in soft colors. No embroidery. No decoration. Just simple, serviceable fabric.
From a drawer, he retrieved the sleep aid necklace and fastened it around his neck. The cool glass nestled against his skin, drawing out the warmth of his fingers as he gripped it tightly.
Taking a long, steady breath, Yi-Gyeol turned his gaze to the door.
Kirsty would be waiting beyond it.
His eyes sharpened, full of quiet resolve.
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