Aiden lay on his cot, curled beneath thin blankets, his skin still warm from the memory of Shinomi's touch.
His heart refused to calm.
His lips tingled with the echo of a kiss he hadn't meant to give—yet hadn't regretted either. His fingers still remembered the feel of Shinomi's mouth around them, the shocking heat, the gentle pressure, the reverence of it.
What did I just do?
He pulled the blanket over his head and groaned into the pillow. His body burned with embarrassment, desire, and worst of all—hope.
He had promised himself not to fall too deep. Not when this world was a lie. Not when this body wasn't his.
But…
Shinomi hadn't looked at him like a servant. Or an enemy.
He looked at him like something to protect—and maybe, just maybe, something to cherish.
---
The next morning arrived with golden sunlight and unusually pleasant air. Aiden dressed with quiet hands, fingers brushing over the long black robe he had chosen today—more modest than usual, covering the curve of his collarbone, but still fitted enough to draw the eye.
He kept his hair loose again, letting the wolfcut frame his face with soft bangs, cascading around his shoulders like midnight silk.
He hadn't planned to see Shinomi.
He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.
But fate had other ideas.
---
"Servant boy."
Aiden turned to see Celestia standing in the courtyard, dressed in an elegant training tunic, her long braid looped like a crown around her head. She wore her arrogance like armor, as always.
She looked at him with a calculated smile.
"You're looking… different lately," she said, circling him slowly. "Did someone tell you pretty boys get more attention than obedient ones?"
Aiden didn't rise to the bait. "Is there something you needed, Princess?"
She stepped closer—too close.
"I wonder," she whispered. "Do you think playing the delicate flower will win him over? He may look at you like a toy now, but he'll throw you away the moment you crack."
Aiden met her gaze calmly. "Maybe. But at least I'm not clinging to a man who never looked at me in the first place."
The words hit harder than he expected.
Celestia's eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"That's enough."
They both turned.
Shinomi approached from the archway, cloak billowing behind him. He glanced at Aiden for a long moment—his eyes unreadable again—but his tone was clear.
"Return to your duties, Aiden."
Aiden bowed, then left without a word, trying not to let the rush of disappointment show on his face.
But as he passed Shinomi, their hands brushed—just slightly.
And Shinomi paused.
Just for a second.
Then he kept walking, as if nothing had happened.
---
That night, Aiden sat beneath the hanging lantern outside the servant quarters, sketching with charcoal on spare parchment. He wasn't very good—but it calmed him. The face he drew was half-shadowed, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed.
He didn't need to name it.
"Why do you look sad?"
The voice made him jump.
He turned—Shinomi stood behind him, arms folded.
Aiden flushed. "I-I'm not sad."
"Then why are you drawing me?"
Aiden looked down at the sketch and cursed softly. He hadn't even realized what he'd done. "I didn't mean to. It just… turned out that way."
Shinomi said nothing for a moment.
Then, gently, he took the paper, folded it, and slipped it into his coat.
"I'll keep it," he said quietly. "If you ever forget what you mean to me, I'll show you this."
Aiden's eyes widened.
And Shinomi walked away into the dark, leaving Aiden staring after him, mouth parted in quiet disbelief.
What you mean to me…
Those words wrapped around Aiden's heart and didn't let go.
---