"Mom, dad, Sir Laurence, Madam Celeste..." Jude paused, his gaze settling on Amara's innocent face. For a second, he almost felt guilty for what he was about to say. "...and Miss Amara. I know we're in the middle of something important, but there is something I must confess first."
The entire table went quiet. Even the sound of the grandfather's clock seemed to stop.
Jude ran a hand through his red hair, his green eyes flicking between the shocked faces of his parents and the calm expression of Amara, who still hadn't realized what was about to happen.
He sighed.
"Ha! This isn't easy to say."
It had been a week ago when he found out his parents had already arranged someone for him to marry. Amara Totanya, daughter of a wealthy and influential business owner. Their families had been long-time business partners, and this marriage was supposed to strengthen that bond.
Today was the day of the formal meeting, a perfect setting for the two to get closer.
Except Jude was late.
Not only did he arrive thirty minutes after everyone else, he also came with someone he definitely shouldn't have brought: his servant, Moya. And worse, he made the person sit beside him.
From the moment they entered, the adults had sensed something was off. Jude's mother kept throwing him tight smiles and sharp glares. His father's brows furrowed deeper with every passing second. Sir Laurence and Madam Celeste looked politely confused. And Amara... poor Amara just smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing.
Moya sat stiffly beside Jude, avoiding everyone's gazes. Although he had been the one to suggest this, he couldn't help but be nervous.
Jude cleared his throat. "Before we continue with... uh, the engagement talk, there's something I should probably clear up first."
His mother frowned. "Jude, what nonsense are you—"
"I'm gay."
The words dropped like a bomb.
The silence that followed was deafening. A fork clattered somewhere. Madam Celeste gasped. Sir Laurence blinked. Amara's lips parted in confusion. "You're... what?"
"And," Jude continued before anyone could interrupt, flashing a nervous grin and wrapping his arm around Moya's shoulders. "I'm happily in a relationship with him."
His parents' faces went pale. And Moya—poor, poor Moya whose supposed purpose was to accompany his friend in coming out of the closet—nearly jumped out of his chair, his entire face turning crimson. Since when were they happily in a relationship? Why didn't he know about this? Huh?
"W-what are you saying, Young Master—?!"
Jude only pulled him closer, showing a guilty expression with a smirk he could barely contain and said, "Nothing convinces people more than them seeing it with their own eyes, right babe?"
No one dared to move.
Then, before anyone could speak, Jude leaned sideways and kissed Moya.
Gasp!
The sound of slurping and sucking could be heard.
Moya was going to push him away, but thinking about how that would end badly for his friend, gritted his teeth and shamefully responded to the kiss.
'Just wait, you damned shit! Just wait!'
In his mind, Jude was already dead, ready to be cremated.
The room erupted. Madam Celeste and her daughter were speechless. Sir Laurence choked on his tea. Jude's mother fainted—or maybe pretended to. His father's hand twitched like he was deciding between strangling his son or calling the priest, thinking his son was possessed.
Meanwhile, Jude just... kept kissing him.
Moya's brain stopped functioning. His eyes shut close, his hands awkwardly clutching Jude's shoulders.
By the time Jude finally pulled back, everyone was staring.
Jude grinned, utterly unbothered.
"How is it, babe?" He asked, breathless but smug.
***
One Week Ago
"—I'm serious this time, Moya. I'm running away," Jude muttered, pacing around in Moya's room like a caged cat. "I'll take the carriage at night, hide somewhere, maybe pretend to be dead for a few months."
Across the room, Moya was busy washing his clothes in the basin, sleeves rolled up, hands red from the cold water. He didn't even look up. "And live on what, Young Master? You can't even cook."
Jude scowled. "I'm not that useless." Then paused. "Okay, maybe I am. But still! I can't live like this anymore. I hate my life. I hate politics. I hate pretending to be polite to people I don't even like. Do you know how exhausting that is?"
Moya sighed softly. "Can't say I do, Young master."
Jude dropped dramatically onto the bed. "If I run away, how long do you think I'll last before starving?"
"Two days," Moya replied without hesitation.
"Two days?"
"Yes. Two days."
Jude groaned and buried his face in a pillow. "I hate this! Who cares about being the future duke? I want freedom! I want adventure! I want to eat cheap noodles at a street stall without anyone judging me!"
Moya blinked at the expensive silk shirts in the water. He'd known this man almost his entire life. He'd seen Jude throw tantrums multiple times. But this—this level of frustration—was new. Something was definitely wrong.
"What happened this time, Young Master?" he asked quietly.
Jude peeked from behind the pillow, eyes dark with annoyance. "They've decided my fiancée!"
"Fiancée?"
"Yeah. Some girl I barely know. Amara Totanya."
"Oh. Her." Moya thought for a moment. "She's not bad. Pretty, polite, rich. It's about time you settled down, no? You're already twenty-six."
Jude sat up like he'd been insulted. "Settle down? With her? I'd rather travel. I'd rather jump into a river than spend the rest of my life talking about work over dinner."
Moya chuckled, shaking his head. "Then just tell them you don't want to get married."
"I tried. They said I have to get married."
"Well..." Moya rinsed a shirt, not thinking too much about his words. "Then just say you're gay or something."
There was silence.
When he looked up, Jude was staring at him—eyes wide, expression unreadable.
"...What?" Moya asked.
"That's... actually brilliant," Jude muttered, as if struck by divine revelation. "Moya, you're a genius!"
Moya frowned. "I wasn't being serious—"
"I'll say I'm gay!" Jude exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "And you'll be there when I tell them!"
"Me?"
"Of course! Someone has to protect me when father starts throwing things!"
And that was how it was decided. A fake confession. A harmless act. A ridiculous plan that would, supposedly, save Jude from marriage.
And yet...
Why were they suddenly in a relationship?