Mok-young dared to cut off the emperor’s words. He could not abide talk of Hae-gang’s death, mentioned as though it were nothing. In an instant Geonyang’s face contorted. But when Mok-young strode toward him, his mouth—which had been running so well—pressed shut, unable to open.
The overwhelming difference in strength. For one who had mastered the Hyeonsin Art, snapping Ju Geonyang’s neck would be nothing. Not that Dan Mok-young was one to do such a thing rashly, but as his gaze cooled and sank, there was a momentary, encroaching intimidation.
Ju Geonyang knew there was nothing to gain from provoking Danmok too far. No—at a few mere words, he’d grown provoked enough to turn such an insolent gaze on him. A fear flickered past, and in its wake, indignation surged again.
“Is it that good?”
After a long moment, Geonyang’s mouth opened, and the question was thrown. Was Go Hae-gang, was the night with him, that good? So good that you’d threaten me, the emperor, just to shield him?
But in this moment a terribly sweet smell wafted from Dan Mok-young. It was different from the faint floral scent he’d vaguely caught earlier. The same scent, but far stronger—so intense he found himself swallowing dryly without knowing it. In a blink he didn’t even register. As he breathed in without thinking, he felt his strength drain at the sweetness.
“…Mok-young. I didn’t know. That you could…”
He meant to say *that such a fine scent could come from you*, but Geonyang couldn’t finish. In the instant his mouth moved, Mok-young had already sensed someone else’s presence and turned his head back, and was at once seized by that someone’s hand and yanked hard.
It was Go Hae-gang. Having found Dan Mok-young, Hae-gang had come right up behind him, and the moment he spotted his wife, he pulled him into his arms in one motion and held him tight.
Ju Geonyang instinctively raised a hand to grab Mok-young’s arm, but his fingertips never reached him.
“…”
Hae-gang said nothing. He only pressed his cheek tight against Mok-young’s ear, readjusting his arms to hold Mok-young even more firmly. When Mok-young’s body reacted with an instinctive flinch, the arms’ grip grew tighter, and Hae-gang’s head leaned further toward Mok-young, his lips nearly touching his ear.
Even Mok-young couldn’t hastily ask what this was about. The body pressed against him was boiling like a fireball. The breath pouring onto his ear carried heat—enough to make him feel his earholes might burn.
“Are you all right? Your body is…”
For a moment Mok-young forgot Geonyang was right behind him and tried to check on Hae-gang. But the next instant he caught himself and closed his mouth. Only then did he register Geonyang’s presence.
How Hae-gang was ailing, and why, was top secret—not to be spoken of lightly, even before the emperor. As a general of Bukwi it might be a disloyal thought, but in this moment, his wife’s safety came first for Mok-young. Go Hae-gang was his family now.
“Let’s go, wife.”
Hae-gang spat the words. In that instant his gaze turned to Geonyang. It was a brazen stare beyond all measure. Far from observing propriety before the emperor, he bared ferocity like a beast warning against trespass on its territory.
But Ju Geonyang could not hastily open his mouth. The two men’s conduct before his eyes was insolent enough to warrant a thunderous rage, yet beyond the outrage there was a “danger signal.” A purely physical, primal warning. The air was thick with a sweetness—so sickeningly strong it numbed the nose—meaning *do not approach rashly*, and Geonyang felt a dizziness that churned his stomach past nausea. And as sharp, stabbing pains assailed his whole body, he found himself stepping back several paces without knowing it.
The heady, sweet scent flowing from Dan Mok-young, and over it, laying bare hostility in every direction—the unpleasantness, the bewitching yet poison-thick fragrance—must be Go Hae-gang’s.
The faint scent of camellia and the deep, intense scent of trumpet creepers. The two scents were already tangling with each other, rising as if to the ends of heaven like a mound of flowers, about to suffocate everything around them. Hae-gang could not master his heat cycle, and Mok-young’s yin energy churned along with him.
Mok-young’s body knew no resistance. With his mate yearning for him so hotly, answering that call had already become only natural.
A single night. That mating had changed Dan Mok-young into someone completely different from before. Feeling his own body begin to burn fiercely, Mok-young put strength into the hands holding Hae-gang and gripped him even more firmly.
“My person—I must take him.”
With those words, Hae-gang released the arms that had held Mok-young. But before Mok-young could even glance back, Hae-gang seized his wrist and turned and began to walk.
Mok-young had no choice but to follow helplessly. The option of shaking off his touch had never even occurred to him, but Hae-gang’s hand felt unusually firm and unyielding.
It was different from usual. This firmness could never be called ordinary, and so Mok-young felt a cold ache on one side of his chest for no reason. He couldn’t tell why, but an indescribable dissonance crept over him.
*I must follow Hae-gang. I must.* That fierce certainty pushed everything else from Mok-young’s mind.
And Hae-gang was the same. Nothing else mattered anymore. He had already reached his limit. If he didn’t hold his wife soon, his whole body felt it would melt away in flames—there was nothing in his consciousness but his wife, Dan Mok-young.
<p align=”center”>* * *</p>
“Minister Yun.”
Seolyong, who had been following Hae-gang’s energy while Hong Jihwan went to find Mok-young, suddenly stopped. He called out to Yun Seunggyeom, captain of the guard, whom he happened to meet in this corridor while Seunggyeom was checking another area.
Seunggyeom had been on his way to report that the General was nowhere to be found, that things seemed unsettled, and that Minister Hong thought the banquet should be wrapped up. And, coincidentally, Seolyong had been thinking the same before Seunggyeom even opened his mouth. That the banquet should be ended and the people sent out of this house.
“Tell Minister Hong he need not look for the General any longer. And it would be best to wrap up the banquet now.”
When he met Seunggyeom, Seolyong had already stopped somewhere along the covered walkway. His gaze was turned toward the inner quarters, where he could see two extraordinary energies rippling together. *How strong the will to live is,* Seolyong thought—Go Hae-gang knew by instinct what he needed to survive. It seemed Hae-gang had found Mok-young on his own before any commotion broke out, and relief settled over him.
“Have you found His Highness?”
What Seolyong’s eyes saw, Seunggyeom’s could not. Seunggyeom was a yangin; he could sense energy but lacked the knack to see with his eyes the union unfolding far away. So when told he need not search for the General anymore, he couldn’t help asking about the situation.
Seolyong only nodded quietly. Then, after gazing at Seunggyeom’s face for a moment, he slowly opened his mouth at last.
“I saw them go to the inner quarters with the General. So let us do what we must.” Seolyong’s voice was calm and composed. Getting his confirmation, Seunggyeom asked no more and nodded, and soon turned with an *understood* and headed somewhere. No doubt to find Hong Jihwan, deliver the news, and help with the remaining cleanup.
Left alone after Seunggyeom went, Seolyong stepped to the edge of the walkway and looked up at the night sky. The sky that had been studded with stars moments ago was now clouded over and dark. *Haa*, he exhaled, and white frost quickly bloomed—he thought it might snow soon.
“A chill hangs thick on all sides.”
Seolyong murmured to himself. And before long, snowflakes truly began to fall, one by one.
Just moments ago it had been so clear—like someone working a wondrous feat. It was the same as that day. The day Go Hae-gang and Dan Mok-young finally did what they did. How could Cheongryong not have known a wondrous harmony was unfolding then? He also knew that even if he stood in the way, Go Hae-gang could not refuse that wondrous pull.
And so he had not held him back by force, but had done what *he* had to do instead.
Seolyong stood with his hands quietly clasped behind his back, watching the snowflakes fall thicker, then slowly raised his right hand. And he lightly tapped a few drifting flakes with his fingertip—*tok, tok, tok*. At once the scattering flakes rippled as if riding a wave, and simultaneously a curtain of white light settled down as if to enfold the inner-quarters building.
It was a momentary shimmer. The moment was so brief it vanished, buried in the snowfall, before anyone could perceive it. And now no one could smell Go Hae-gang and Dan Mok-young’s scents anymore. Who could cross Cheongryong’s barrier?
“Survival is… yours alone, Hae-gang.”
It was Cheongryong’s duty to care for his heir, love him or hate him—and it was Cheong Seolyong’s duty to hold both love and hate for the human Go Hae-gang.
Hae-gang quickened his steps. Only because it was Mok-young could he keep up with those fast, long strides; anyone else would have been tripping constantly. It was something of a mercy that he retained at least enough awareness that they had to get to a space of their own.
Mok-young couldn’t bring himself to ask again if he was all right. Nor could he call out to Hae-gang to slow down. The scent of trumpet creepers wafting from him was suffocating, so he could scarcely think of anything else properly. He clenched his teeth for fear of panting aloud if he opened his mouth, and when his steps faltered, it was because he felt a sudden, hot dampness behind him.
*Damn it.* All Mok-young could do was chew curses inwardly. No—there was one more thing.
Are you afraid?
He asked himself the question. And soon got the answer: yes.
He knew well how hot their wedding night had been, and what that ecstasy had left inside his body. Yet he’d tried to be indifferent to that change, pretending to think of Hae-gang’s health—but today even that had become far from easy.
If Hae-gang set his mind to it, his body could not refuse. Strangely, it did not feel insulting. He felt no sense of submission. Perhaps because he knew instinctively that Go Hae-gang alone could do this.
So if one speck of unease remained in Mok-young’s heart at the end, it was fear.
Enjoy it while you can. How long could it last?
When that one is dead, who will know how you wept in his arms…
That to be the only one was dangerous. If someday, some day, he lost Hae-gang—how desolate a ruin would the emptiness left by that single vanished flame become?
That was the substance of his fear. As strong as this moment’s pull, as great as the greed that grew—wanting only to sink deep even if everything he’d built was denied and rendered colorless—so great was the anxiety tugging at his nape. Could he endure Hae-gang’s absence when it came?
But such distant, vague fears were a luxury now. They were merely one shard of anxiety among the fragments pouring down in his uncontrollable trembling.
Thud!
With a heavy sound, Mok-young’s back struck the wall. They had just entered the two men’s bedroom, and Hae-gang, unable to master his impatience after only a few steps, had shoved Mok-young against the wall beside the door. Then he stepped right up and stripped Mok-young’s mask off first.
Mok-young had no time to say anything. The fallen mask tumbled to the floor with a clatter, but the noise didn’t even reach his ears. Hae-gang’s hand had seized his chin, and their lips met at once.
Heat like melting tongues seized his mouth in an instant. Mok-young instinctively startled and tried to dodge his tongue away. But the more he did, the more Hae-gang pressed in tenaciously, and in the cramped mouth the two fleshy things could not be apart for a moment.
Wet sounds rang in their ears. The more Mok-young tried to evade, the more tangled and slick the entwining grew. Hae-gang wrapped his own tongue ever more desperately around Mok-young’s, and his mouth opened wider, as if to swallow Mok-young’s lips whole.
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