Meanwhile… unaware of everything inside Kyoren's room and the turmoil in Kuradome's heart, Sozai had already succeeded in dragging Yurei out of bed and into something presentable for the royal event.
"Move faster," Sozai hissed in mock severity as he yanked Yurei's arm. The glossy folds of Yurei's new golden robe rustled like liquid sunlight, catching light as they rushed down the corridor. "Hurry, hurry, hurry—or you'll lose your job today, little fox!"
"You're unbelievable!" Yurei shot back, voice caught between outrage and panic. His gray eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed a light pink, partly from running, partly from something else entirely. "Who just bursts into someone's room without knocking? You did it again—like last night! And you—you healed the bite mark Kyoren gave me without even asking! How dare you touch me while I was out?! And when did you do it?! What even happened?!"
The words tumbled out in a rush. He barely remembered fragments from the night before—how much Yeifeng he had drunk, how silly he'd become, and the way the room spun before Kuradome himself entered. After that… nothing. A blur. A blank. And now Sozai, infuriatingly smug, refused to answer a single thing.
Yurei only grew redder when he noticed both of their hair still damp, darker at the roots, clinging faintly to their necks. His own locks, pale silver, brushed cool against his flushed skin. Sozai's raven-black hair, tied into a ponytail, gleamed wet under the lanterns as though freshly washed. And his robe—last night black and gold—was now replaced by crimson and gold.
Had they… bathed together? No, impossible. He would have remembered. Wouldn't he?
He bit down on the inside of his cheek, refusing to say anything aloud. Too many guards and servants were already filling the grand hallway, their eyes sliding toward him and Sozai as they passed. Whispers might spread in an instant, and the last thing he needed was anyone suspecting something improper between him and Sozai, of all people.
Still, he couldn't stop staring at the back of Sozai's head, gray eyes narrowing, cheeks burning hotter as his mind flickered with hazy half-formed images.
"Don't look so sour," Sozai chuckled over his shoulder, tightening his grip just as Yurei stumbled on the polished floor. Yurei gave a startled yelp, clutching his hand with his other one to steady himself. "That's my good baby fox."
"Don't call me that!" Yurei snapped, face flaring red. The humiliation only worsened when Sozai casually reached back to pinch his cheek. It wasn't rough—just a teasing little tug that sent heat flooding Yurei's ears.
"Stop—pinching me like that! And stop slapping me with your hair!" Yurei swatted at the silky black ponytail that brushed against his face each time Sozai leaned close.
The older fox only smirked wider. His green eyes glimmered, amusement dancing in them. "Don't talk so much. I just saved your position… and something else too. If you want, I can give that mark back to you. Sadly, though…" his lips curved into something mischievous, "…it wouldn't be one made by the crown prince."
Yurei froze, ears twitching in panic. His voice cracked. "S-shut up! Shut up, shut up! Don't say things like that here! People will hear you, you—!"
His desperation only made Sozai laugh again, soft and low, the sound curling down Yurei's spine in a way that was both infuriating and… something else he refused to name.
And just like that, Yurei's mind drifted back, unwilling, to the blur of earlier.
Flashback
"Yurei! Wake up, damn it!"
Sozai's voice had cut through the haze, rough with urgency. He had slipped not through the door but the balcony—like last night—robes brushing against the wooden frame as he stepped inside.
The room smelled faintly of Yeifeng, sharp and sweet, and Yurei was sprawled across the bed in utter abandon. His golden robe hung loose, covering only half his chest. One pale thigh was exposed, glinting faintly under the moonlight. The sight made Sozai still, breath catching in his throat before he cursed under his breath and forced his gaze away.
Why did he always have to look so vulnerable?
Sozai cleared his throat and moved closer, setting one knee on the bed. He meant to shake him awake, quickly, nothing more. But as he leaned down, his eyes betrayed him, lingering over Yurei's flushed cheek, the faint parting of his lips, the soft rise and fall of his chest.
He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. Then, almost against his will, he reached down and tugged the robe back into place, covering Yurei's bare thigh. His fingers brushed skin—too soft, too warm—and he pulled back instantly, ears burning red though no one was there to see.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, unsure whether he meant Yurei's drunken state or himself.
Still, he sat down beside him. The bed dipped beneath his weight. For a moment, Sozai simply stared at him. Then—before he realized what he was doing—he lay down carefully behind Yurei, his chest pressing against the younger fox's back.
His arm hovered uncertainly before settling on Yurei's shoulder. "Yurei… wake up."
The whisper brushed against Yurei's fox ear, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs. The ear twitched, brushing back against Sozai's lips once, then twice. Sozai's throat went dry. His lips parted before he bit down on the impulse rising in him.
His arms betrayed him anyway. One slid over Yurei's waist, resting at his stomach. The other anchored at his hipbone, pulling him subtly closer.
And gods—Yurei's body melted against him, soft and warm, a quiet purr vibrating in his chest even in his half-sleep.
Sozai shut his eyes, pressing his face into the hollow of Yurei's neck. His green gaze softened to slits, pupils dilating as a low, involuntary purr rose in his own throat. For a fleeting heartbeat, he wasn't a strategist, wasn't a soldier, wasn't anything but a fox seeking warmth.
"Why does he have to be so cute in front of me?" he whispered into the curve of Yurei's neck, words slipping free before he could stop them. "So far from me… yet always close to the crown prince. When I was there first. When I existed in your life before he ever did."
The bitterness stung his tongue, but he didn't stop. His grip tightened ever so slightly around Yurei's hips.
Yurei, still drowsing, gave a faint, instinctive nuzzle back into his chest, a sleepy murmur that made Sozai's entire body go taut. He wanted more. He wanted everything. And yet…
No.
His jaw clenched. He forced his arms to loosen. He couldn't allow himself to cross that line, not when it would ruin Yurei's fragile world. Not when it might destroy him, too.
But even as he willed himself to let go, his heart betrayed him, beating in frantic rhythm against Yurei's back.
And his resolve—already cracked—threatened to shatter.