Ash couldn’t understand what he was hearing.
He just thought Tyllian must have calmly lost his mind.
His appearance seemed normal, but his eyes were strange.
They almost felt like they were flickering with flames.
They burned with such intense heat that they appeared to be a cool blue.
But what did that matter?
“You still think this is the safe ducal castle. I expected as much.”
Tyllian sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of his exasperation, a low, drawn-out sound that hinted at a deeper frustration.
“You should have realized by now. The Duke can no longer protect you. The reason you were safe walking alone before was because it was the city where the ducal castle was, and everyone knew your face. This isn’t that place. Everyone who knows your face here is ready to threaten you.”
He paused, his gaze intensifying, boring into Ash with an unnerving intensity.
“The same goes for those who don’t know your face. You don’t realize how fatal beauty can be when you can’t protect yourself.”
He seemed to be saying that Ash was in danger.
Ash knew that too. He just didn’t understand how that connected to Tyllian needing to spy on Ash’s sleeping arrangements.
More than that, something strange caught Ash’s ear.
Did Tyllian just call him “beautiful”?
The word hung in the air, a foreign, unexpected compliment from the usually reserved knight.
He rarely complimented Ash, even with empty words.
Especially not about his appearance.
Unless it was a nagging remark like, ‘It’s more important to cultivate your inner self than your outer appearance…’
He really must like me.
Ash suddenly felt strange.
A ripple of unexpected warmth, mixed with a disconcerting unease, spread through him.
He’d heard confessions and praises to the point of being sick of them, a constant stream of adulation that had long since lost its meaning.
But simply because the other person was Tyllian, he didn’t know what to do with himself.
This wasn’t some fawning noble or a fleeting admirer.
That’s because Tyllian wasn’t someone who would deceive emotions with empty words.
He wouldn’t whisper sweet nothings for a single night like common nobles in society, those who traded compliments as casually as coin.
Until now, the situation had been too complicated to think about properly, a whirlwind of escape and pressing concerns that left no room for introspection.
But facing his emotions, a huge question arose.
But how can he like me?
The thought echoed in his mind, a persistent, perplexing query.
Unlike others, Tyllian knew Ash well, didn’t he?
He had seen beyond the superficial charm, beyond the carefully constructed facade.
Unlike people who thought they knew Ash by only seeing his flashy side, the public persona he presented to the world, Tyllian had seen everything about Ash.
Even his most unsightly aspects and miserable desires, the hidden corners of his personality that he kept carefully concealed from everyone else.
It must be my looks after all.
That was the only possibility, the most logical explanation in Ash’s mind.
There was no way he could have fallen for Ash’s conduct, for his often-selfish decisions or his flighty nature.
He nodded inwardly, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Tyllian couldn’t help it either. Humans are indeed weak to what they see.
Ash decided to advise him later, when the immediate crisis had passed and a moment of calm could be found.
The truth that you shouldn’t fall for someone just based on their looks, a lesson he himself had learned many times over.
For now, the situation wasn’t ideal…
“Are you listening to me?”
Tyllian questioned Ash like a ghost, his voice cutting through Ash’s internal monologue, sharp and unyielding.
Ash pretended not to flinch, maintaining a carefully neutral expression.
“Huh? Of course. So?”
“It’s not ‘so,’ it’s something you need to understand.”
Tyllian’s patience seemed to be wearing thin, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying his frustration.
“Ah, right. I understand.”
Ash offered, a vague, noncommittal response.
“Is that so? Good. From now on, I will also escort you while you sleep.”
“What?”
Ash was startled, his composure momentarily breaking, a gasp escaping his lips.
One of Tyllian’s eyebrows rose, a silent challenge, a gesture that conveyed both surprise and a hint of amusement at Ash’s reaction.
“Didn’t you say you understood?”
Tyllian’s voice was laced with a dry wit, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
“Actually, I missed a little. Not much.”
Ash made excuses, the words stumbling out of him, trying to regain some semblance of control over the conversation.
Tyllian pretended to let it slide as usual, a familiar pattern between them.
“This is where you are most vulnerable. A place where you are alone with another person, without any means to protect yourself. I told you that I would have to escort you inside from now on.”
Tyllian’s tone became serious again, the underlying concern for Ash’s safety evident in his words.
“No…!”
Ash almost raised his voice, a flush creeping up his neck, a surge of indignant protest rising within him.
Tyllian’s brow furrowed, a warning sign, a subtle shift in his expression that hinted at displeasure.
Ash’s voice returned to normal, though still laced with incredulity and a hint of desperation.
“Is that… a good idea? No, do you think I’m going to sleep with someone while I’m escaping? I’m a busy man. I have a mountain of vassals to persuade.”
“What are you doing right now?”
Tyllian’s tone was flat, devoid of any discernible emotion, a simple question that held a surprising weight.
Is he asking because he doesn’t know?
Ash’s mind reeled, trying to comprehend the absurdity of the question.
“I’m paying the price! Whose fault do you think it is that we escaped safely?!”
His voice rose again, frustration bubbling to the surface.
Tyllian’s face hardened, a mask of unyielding resolve.
It looked like he was about to retort, ‘Then who told you to promise such a price?’
The unspoken accusation hung in the air.
Ash immediately added, before Tyllian could speak, “Of course. I won’t make such promises again. I won’t borrow Master’s magic again either. But right now, it is what it is.”
“That’s your thought, Sir Ash. I believe such things will continue to happen in the future.”
Tyllian’s statement was delivered with a quiet certainty, a subtle prophecy that sent a shiver down Ash’s spine.
What kind of person was Ash in Tyllian’s eyes?
Ash genuinely wondered, a deep-seated curiosity mingling with a growing sense of discomfort.
The thought was disorienting, unsettling, like looking at himself through a distorted mirror.
“And I have prepared myself. It’s late, but… now. I don’t have the right to take away Sir Ash’s pleasure now.”
Tyllian’s voice was softer, almost tender, a stark contrast to his earlier severity.
“Uh…”
Ash felt strange again.
Whenever Tyllian made a pained expression, his stomach would churn, a peculiar mix of sympathy and unease.
If he’s standing by the bed, wouldn’t the heated atmosphere cool down…?
Ash pushed away the sudden thought, a fleeting, inappropriate image.
This wasn’t the time to be thinking such things, not when the air was thick with tension and unspoken desires.
“I am no longer a knight who can advise you. From the moment I followed you out, I decided to be true to my feelings. I am merely the escort you have acknowledged.”
Tyllian’s voice was firm, resolute, a declaration of intent that left no room for doubt.
His loyalty, once bound by duty, now seemed to be governed by something far more personal.
Ash found it difficult to meet Tyllian’s gaze directly.
He couldn’t say why; he just felt strange and restless, a knot of unfamiliar emotions twisting in his gut.
A blend of embarrassment, confusion, and a burgeoning sense of something akin to awe.
Then Tyllian asked, his voice low and even, a dangerous calm in his tone, “Sir Ash. How was sleeping with me?”
“…Huh?”
Ash’s mind was still trying to process the previous declaration, the weighty words of Tyllian’s changed allegiance, and this new question threw him completely off balance, sending his thoughts scattering.
“Did I satisfy you enough, Sir Ash?”
Tyllian’s voice was still calm, but there was an underlying current of something else, a subtle challenge, a hint of genuine curiosity.
Ash stared, utterly speechless, his mouth slightly agape.
His brain felt like it was short-circuiting, unable to compute the implications of the question.
“When I saw it then, I think I was a pretty good disciple.”
Tyllian continued, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, a flash of an old memory in his eyes.
The blood drained from Ash’s face, leaving him pale and stunned.
Could he possibly be implying what Ash thought he was implying?
The memory, now re-contextualized, was horrifying.
“If I learn more, I think I can give you even greater pleasure. As you once said yourself, I’m naturally strong and understand how to use my body well.”
Tyllian’s voice was smooth, a low murmur that sent shivers down Ash’s spine, not entirely unpleasant.
“What…!”
Ash finally found his voice, though it came out as a strangled gasp, a choked exclamation of disbelief.
This was completely out of character for Tyllian, the stoic, serious knight, the embodiment of propriety.
“You’re a natural. I have no talent. Don’t say anything when you’ve never had a body like mine that just won’t work, no matter what I do…”
Tyllian’s voice held a hint of a playful whine, a rare glimpse of vulnerability.
“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”
Ash remembered his own words, spoken years ago.
“I’m not crying. Who’s crying? Do I look like someone who cries just because I got hit with a wooden sword?”
Tyllian’s indignant reply echoed in Ash’s mind, a ghost of a past conversation.
“Yes.”
Ash had responded, a mischievous grin on his face.
A past conversation flashed in his mind.
It was after a sword training session, years ago, when Ash had accidentally hit Tyllian a little too hard with a practice sword.
Tyllian had sniffled, pretending it didn’t hurt, but Ash had seen the tears welling in his eyes, bright and clear.
Was Tyllian really using that now for a lewd joke?
Ash felt a horrifying realization creeping over him, a sense of profound shock.
The innocent memory was now tainted, twisted into something completely unexpected.
“Who are you?”
Ash asked, appalled, his voice barely a whisper, a genuine plea for understanding.
Tyllian didn’t even blink, his expression unreadable.
“Your only escort.”
“Did you hit your head, by any chance?”
Ash pressed, desperate for an explanation that wasn’t… this.
He needed a logical reason for this bizarre turn of events, something that could explain away the unsettling intimacy of Tyllian’s words.
“Of course not. Even if I did, my body wouldn’t be harmed… You really don’t give me any time to be serious.”
Tyllian rubbed his face, a gesture that conveyed a hint of exasperation, or perhaps resignation, a sigh escaping his lips.
“No, it’s because you’re saying strange things…”
Ash protested, his voice rising slightly, still trying to grasp the reality of the situation.
“What could be stranger than me loving you?”
Tyllian’s voice was quiet, a simple statement of fact that pierced through all of Ash’s defenses.
That was true.
Ash’s heart pounded again, a frantic drum against his ribs, a dizzying mix of fear and excitement.
He felt a little nauseous, too, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him.
The sheer directness of Tyllian’s confession was almost unbearable.
He had grown accustomed to the subtle, unspoken admiration of others, to the polite fawning of courtiers, but this… this was like a punch to the gut, raw and undeniable.
“I am begging for an opportunity. It’s fine if you enjoy yourself with anyone else. I will still be your loyal servant. Just give me a chance to bring you joy as well.”
Tyllian’s voice had lowered, taking on a desperate, pleading tone that Ash had never heard before.
It was almost painful to listen to, a raw vulnerability that unsettled him deeply.
Ash remained silent, utterly overwhelmed, unable to form a coherent response.
His mind was a chaotic whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, none of them coherent, all of them swirling together in a dizzying maelstrom.
“I want to show you how I love. The joy of being loved. How it’s different from the pleasure others give… I hope you can feel that it’s different.”
Tyllian’s voice was filled with an earnest desire, a plea for Ash to see him, to understand the depth of his feelings.
Ash didn’t know how to act in such a serious atmosphere.
In high society, making the atmosphere heavy was a sin, a breach of decorum.
It was the same in night games, where lighthearted banter and playful flirtation were the norm, where genuine emotions were often masked by witty repartee.
That was part of socializing, too, a delicate dance of veiled intentions.
However, Tyllian wasn’t just some social contact to Ash.
He was an important person to Ash, someone whose quiet presence had been a constant in his often-frivolous life, a steadfast anchor in a sea of superficiality.
His emotions, now laid bare, carried immense weight, a gravity that Ash found almost suffocating.
“Allow me.”
Tyllian’s voice, a soft whisper, barely audible, broke through Ash’s stupor, a gentle nudge back to reality.
Ash nodded as if pulled by a plumb bob, his head moving almost independently of his will, a subconscious agreement.
Then he was suddenly surprised by his own acquiescence.
What had he just agreed to?
A wave of belated realization washed over him, bringing with it a fresh surge of panic.
Tyllian smiled.
But he didn’t look happy.
He still looked distressed, a lingering shadow in his blue, flame-like eyes, a subtle tremor in his hand.
He went to the door and stood there, facing the bed as if to block anyone from entering.
It was a possessive stance, a silent declaration of ownership, a barrier erected between Ash and the outside world.
“That’s all I have to say. Sir Ash, do as you wish. I will protect you so that no one can harm you. If there is any unwanted coercion, Sir Ash, you only need to command me.”
Tyllian’s voice was firm, resolute, a promise etched in stone.
“Uh…”
Ash replied blankly, his mind still reeling, unable to fully process the implications of Tyllian’s words.
He felt as if his head had been replaced with Master’s, full of complex calculations and strange, inexplicable logic, a jumble of disconnected thoughts.
He felt like he couldn’t keep up with the world, or more accurately, with the strange new world Tyllian was creating around him, a world where the rules were suddenly different, where the familiar boundaries had blurred.
Then Master, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, a silent, almost invisible presence in the background, moved.
He walked over to Ash, his movements fluid and deliberate, a predator stalking its prey.
Smooch.
Rough lips touched his cheek.
Ash blinked, startled out of his daze, the unexpected contact jolting him.
Ash looked at Master, bewildered, his eyes wide with confusion.
“What are you… doing?”
Ash asked, his voice a mere whisper.
“It seems the problem has been solved.”
Master’s voice was calm, almost detached, as if he had just completed a particularly intricate puzzle, a task completed with cold efficiency.
Ash felt like the problem had only gotten more complicated, not solved in the slightest.
He hadn’t felt this burdened even when he first heard Tyllian say “I like you.”
That had been a surprise, a shock, a sudden jolt to his carefully constructed reality.
But this… this was an entirely new level of unsettling, a deep, pervasive unease that settled in his bones.
“So, wasn’t it my turn to solve my problem?”
Master’s question was rhetorical, laced with an unnerving undertone of expectation, a silent demand.
He lowered his pants with a smooth, unhurried motion, his eyes never leaving Ash’s face.
Then he ran a hand over his penis once, a deliberate, almost ceremonial gesture, a display of intent.
The throbbing, erect penis menacingly aimed at Ash, a stark, undeniable reality that shattered any lingering illusions of control.
Ah.
That problem.
Ash felt dizzy.
The world tilted on its axis, spinning precariously.
He felt a cold dread creeping through him, a chilling certainty that he was no longer in control.
The weight of Tyllian’s unspoken desires, Master’s unsettling proposition, and his own swirling confusion coalesced into a suffocating pressure, a suffocating blanket that threatened to smother him.
He was in deep, far deeper than he had ever anticipated, adrift in a sea of desires and expectations that were not his own.
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