010

Sebastian knocked on the study door before stepping in. The sight inside was unfamiliar, even unsettling. Lucian sat at his desk, briskly scribbling, stamping, or discarding papers from the neatly stacked piles. The bottles of alcohol at the bar on the far side of the room, had been untouched for days. And the chair opposite Lucian’s desk was conspicuously empty of a certain vibrant presence.

Across the room, Sarang sat quietly, his head bent over a textbook. He wasn’t slacking off or hiding a novel between its pages as he sometimes did. His focus was sharp, though his body betrayed a restless energy.

Sebastian’s beard tickled, though his face betrayed no thoughts. He placed a glass filled of black liquid on Sarang’s desk with deliberate care, the faint aroma of bitter herbs wafting upward.

Sarang shuddered at the sight of it, his nose wrinkling in disgust. His wide, pleading eyes darted to Sebastian, accompanied by a dramatic pout.

“I don’t like the taste. It’s so bitter.” He whined.

Sebastian pushed the glass closer. “It wouldn’t be medicine if it wasn’t.”.

“Syrups are sweet.”

“Syrups are for children. This medicine is not.”

Sarang sighed dramatically, lifting the glass. “Thank heavens this is the last one. Anymore, and the kitchen maids might report the mysterious disappearance of desserts.”

Sebastian chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that again, would we?”

Pinching his nose, Sarang downed the liquid in one swift gulp. He slammed the empty glass onto the tray, shuddering visibly as the bitterness lingered. His throat bobbed as he gulped, trying to suppress a gag. Then, he opened his mouth wide to Sebastian, who nodded in approval.

“Thank you, Mr. Sebastian.” Sarang muttered, his voice muffled by a hand covering his mouth.

“The pleasure is mine.” Sebastian replied.

Stepping over to Lucian’s desk, he presented the envelope from the tray with a slight bow. “A letter from the young master, sir.”

Lucian’s onyx eyes flicked to the envelope briefly before returning to Sarang. Sarang’s attention was fixated on his desk, though he averted his gaze when Lucian’s eyes met his.

Lucian returned to the letter. “What does it say?”

Sebastian broke the Blackwell family seal—a pair of crossed swords beneath a crown—and skimmed the contents. His brow lifted slightly before he tucked the letter back into the envelope, his expression brightening.

“Good news. The young master was well received in Bellport, and the negotiations concluded smoothly, months earlier than I anticipated. He should be departing for home by the time we receive his letter.”

Lucian nodded, his reaction restrained, though a glimmer of something warmer crossed his features. Sarang, meanwhile, exhaled shakily, relief mingling with anxiety.

Nathan was coming home, Sarang’s shakily breathed.

“Send a reply to the Count of Bellport along with tokens of our appreciations.” Lucian ordered.

“Of course, sir.”

“Is there anything else I should be informed?” Lucian asked, discarding some papers in the dustbin.

“Shall I begin preparations for the young master’s birthday? His twenty-fifth birthday is in fifteen days."

Lucian tapped a finger thoughtfully against the desk. “Twenty-five years… How time flies,” he murmured. Then, his tone sharpened. “Send word to the Linfield estate. Preparations are to begin immediately. Travel ahead to oversee the arrangements and invite every blueblood in the kingdom.”

“Understood.” Sebastian bowed but stopped short of the door. Turning back, he hesitated before speaking. “Master Lucian, if I may…”

“You don’t need permission to speak,” Lucian replied without looking up from his work.

“This is the first time your dispute with Sarang has lasted more than a day. The servants are concerned. Frankly, I as well. It might be best to resolve things before the young master returns and begins asking questions.”

Sebastian bowed again and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The room grew oppressively quiet. Lucian and Sarang exchanged glances, both awkward and unsure. Sarang quickly averted his eyes, pretending to focus on his work, but the tension made his stomach queasy.

Dispute felt like an exaggeration. It was awkwardness—an unbearable, thick tension Sarang didn’t know how to navigate. His mind kept returning to that night, the illicit intimacy they’d shared. Lucian had never treated him like other slaves, and Sarang had never expected… that. He was basically a noble child with a slave title. There was also Lucian’s strange expression when Sarang admitted he felt nothing.

Sarang hurriedly finished his exercises and placed his notebook on Lucian’s desk then took a few steps back. Finally, he shuffled nervously, his voice barely above a whisper. “Master, forgive me. For… taking advantage of you. It’s my fault things are tense between us.”

Lucian’s gaze bore into him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I feel like it is,” Sarang said, gripping the fabric of his sleeve. “If I hadn’t…” He trailed off, his cheeks colouring. “If I hadn’t slept with you, things wouldn’t be so tense. I wouldn’t feel so uncertain about how to act around you.”

Lucian stood abruptly, striding toward Sarang. He grasped the omega’s wrist, his grip firm but not painful. Lowering his face until their noses nearly touched, Lucian’s voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Then… will you take responsibility?”

Sarang’s heart raced. The alpha’s breath ghosted over his lips, making him shiver. He licked his lips and stammered, “H-how?”

Lucian’s gaze darkened. “By letting it happen again. By being more than just–”

“I don’t know.” Sarang shook his head, his throat tightening as he fought the tears stinging his eyes. “I don’t understand. You’ve always loathed the idea of intimacy. You’ve said it was demeaning for slaves to be trained for pleasure. You’re confusing me.” His voice broke. “I don’t know what you want from me. Even so, I’ve always wondered… why did you save me that day? You wanted an alpha, not an omega. Not me.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry,” he swabbed a tear that slipped down Sarang’s cheek. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Sarang’s eyelids. “An alpha would have been nice and less expensive,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But I wanted you more. And I don’t regret it.”

Sarang laughed weakly, wiping at his face. “You’re being unusually sentimental… and chatty. I’m relieved, I didn’t want the young master to find out.”

“Why not?” Lucian asked, his tone unreadable.

Sarang hesitated, his chest tightening. “Because…” Because he’s my lover. “He’s sensitive. He might disapprove. And you’re his father.”

Lucian stared at him for a long eerie moment before nodding. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Sarang said, hugging Lucian briefly before hurrying out.

Lucian moved to the bar, retrieving a bottle of wine. He poured himself a glass and slumped into his chair, his grip tightening unconsciously until the glass cracked. The sharp shards bit into his palm, but he barely noticed.

He lied.

Sarang’s subtle tells—the curling of his tongue, the way his hand brushed against his brow, all while maintaining perfect eye contact—flashed in his mind. He’d learned to recognize them over the years. Sarang didn’t lie often, which made the gestures so fleeting they were almost imperceptible. But this time, Lucian had seen them.

The memory of his conversation with Sebastian five days earlier surfaced.

“Did you say Silphium?” Sebastian asked, overflowing Lucian’s teacup.

Lucian raised the pot and Sebastian corrected his error. “You know the proportions, mix the contraceptive with tonics to ease the side effects.”

“Might I ask what happened?”

“Nothing that you haven’t already suspect. Please prepare and serve with secrecy.” Lucian massaged his forehead. “Did anything happen last night?”

Sebastian wiped the round table with a cloth. “I saw the young lad waltzing towards the alpha wing.”

“Was he strange?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s not out of character for that child to seek you, even as an adult. You spoiled him.” Sebastian finished wiping his mess. “Master Lucian, with my knowledge on alpha-omega pairing, this was bound this happened. Is it not time to tell him the truth?”

Lucian’s hand stilled on the cup’s handle. “He doesn’t feel anything.”

Sebastian let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “But his soul does.”

Lucian looked up sharply.

“I’ve known you since you were a stubborn, dismissive child; you still are,” Sebastian continued, his tone calm but firm. “I warned you this day would come. You cannot fight fate, not as long as that child is within your sight. Yet, you refuse to let him go. Sooner or later, he’ll find out.”

Lucian’s grip on the cup tightened.

“I don’t enjoy seeing you suffer through another cruel rut,” Sebastian pressed. “You’ve poisoned yourself with opium to suppress it for years, and it’s killing you. I don’t plan to outlive you like your father. Today is the first time I’ve seen you untouched by wine in the morning for your pain.”

Sebastian softened his tone further. “That child is why your body cannot accept another omega. Fate may have been cruel with the circumstances of your meeting—his age, his status—but Grace wanted you to find happiness. With someone you could love.”

The mention of Grace made Lucian’s chest tighten painfully.

“And I believe,” Sebastian added, “that child feels the same. If you continue doing nothing, another alpha will claim him right under your nose and you will suffer for it.”

Lucian opened his eyes, his voice cold. “You’ve said enough, Sebastian.”

Sebastian bowed, gathering the empty tray. “Enjoy your tea, Master Lucian.”

The memory faded, leaving Lucian staring at the blood dripping from his hand. He set the broken glass down carefully, his thoughts a storm of emotions he could no longer suppress.

He poured another glass of wine. This time, he drank deeply, the bitterness matching the ache in his chest.

He hated how Sebastian’s words lingered, like thorns digging into his skin.

Sarang will find out.

And when he did, Lucian wasn’t sure if he’d survive the fallout.