11

As they lay in silence on the floor, Silas became painfully aware of how awkward this position was. But Alric still hadn't let him go, so he didn't have the courage to move either. This man's body was too heavy. Silas tried shifting slightly, but in doing so, his thigh brushed against something hard—and the quiet hiss Alric let out already told him exactly what he had just accidentally touched.

Neither of them spoke, and Silas went rigid. God, if I could, I'd run out of this room right now.

Luckily, Alric was the first to move. He pulled his face away from Silas's shoulder, but his expression looked displeased, and there was a faint wetness on his cheek. Even so, Alric's sullen face still sent a shiver down Silas's spine. His pheromones lingered in the air, though not as strong as before.

Alric didn't look at him. Instead, he averted his gaze and muttered, "It didn't work on my body. The suppressants. You know, right? Those are the highest dosage ... and yet it still has no effect on me."

Hearing that, Silas's eyes instinctively dropped to the scattered syringes on the floor. That's a high dose, and yet this man had injected himself multiple times as if it were nothing. What if the side effects are dangerous?

"I'll call the doctor."

"No need." Alric quickly refused, standing up, though his movements were slightly staggered.

Silas immediately averted his gaze when his eyes accidentally landed on the very noticeable bulge between Alric's thighs—something he absolutely should not be looking at. Trying to distract himself, he belatedly took in the details of the room.

Near the window, an array of guns and swords were displayed, ranging from small to large. A rack held a massive set of deer antlers, while a towering bookshelf was crammed with so many books that there was barely any space left. So this is one of the locked rooms… Turns out, it was Prince Alric's study. And the decor suited the man perfectly.

Leaning one palm against his desk, Alric finally spoke again, though he still refused to meet Silas's eyes.

"Sorry, but could you leave my room? We'll continue our conversation later."

"Ah, sorry…"

Silas quickly left Alric's study. How could I just stand there like an idiot, staring at the decor? If their positions were reversed, Silas would've shoved Alric out of the room long ago.

As he walked back to his own quarters, closing the door tightly behind him, the incident replayed in his mind, uninvited.

For a split second, he had almost thought Alric was hiding a weapon there. Damn it. Silas mentally kicked himself. But seriously—were all alphas that big? He had never been physically close to one before, so he had no way of knowing. But from what he had overheard in casual conversations, people often said that their size was above average.

Shit. I shouldn't be thinking about someone else's groin …

*

The weather was decent, though the sky wasn't particularly bright. Silas had planned to borrow a bike this morning, but Alric unexpectedly forbade him, despite having allowed it yesterday. There were plenty of bikes in the garage, so he had no idea why the man suddenly changed his mind.

Silas had wanted to protest, but he tried to find the right words so he wouldn't come across as rude or disrespectful towards a prince. Just as he was thinking of how to phrase it, Alric called one of his guards and instructed him to take Silas to his father's house by car instead.

It was a good thing Silas hadn't opened his mouth yet. He had a bad habit of speaking in a way that didn't reflect his noble status, and he had lost count of how many times his teacher had scolded him for it.

The car ride was smoother and faster. To think that in just a few years, these vehicles would become a common sight—especially with the Wittenheim family investing in their mass production. Still, in Silas's opinion, cars weren't exactly suited for rural roads, many of which remained unpaved. But the wealthy people in the city probably didn't care about that.

Silas recalled the times he had visited the orphanage in the rural area, usually a few times a year. The difference in environment and atmosphere between Lichtberg and the villages was staggering—it felt as if he had stepped into another era entirely. That was why, if he planned to visit again, he would opt for a carriage instead. The narrow, uneven paths leading into the villages were still largely impassable for automobiles.

Infrastructure was far from equal, yet the wealthy were more focused on advancing transportation and weaponry rather than improving life in remote areas. It was an endless source of frustration. And the most nauseating part was how, whenever wars escalated, it was the rural villagers who most often volunteered to defend their land—while few nobles cared about their survival.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a problem with no solution. And worst of all, Silas himself couldn't do much about it. Ha, I'm starting to sound like a hypocrite.

Lately, war had begun to subside, but now business rivalries were intensifying. Silas had noticed that merchants and entrepreneurs were gradually surpassing the nobility in wealth, forcing the aristocrats to scramble into the business world themselves. Even the King of Lichtberg—according to the circulating rumors—had begun to feel threatened by the Grand Duke's rapidly growing fortune.

Would it be wrong to hope that the noble system would disappear entirely? It would likely take thousands of years for that to happen, and whether whatever came next would be better or worse—no one could say.

Familiar sights began to fill his vision as the car gradually slowed down and came to a stop in front of the Steinmar mansion's gates.

The guards, upon realizing that Silas had come to visit, promptly opened the gate. Once the car had parked, the driver stepped out to open the door for him—though Silas had nearly reached for it himself. But since it was clearly part of the driver's duties, even if it felt a bit unnecessary, Silas still offered a polite thank you.

As he approached the mansion's entrance, he suddenly halted his steps. Turning his head slightly, he glanced back at the driver—who also doubled as his assigned guard—following closely behind.

The man seemed to notice his confusion and finally spoke, "Apologies, my lord. Prince Alric has instructed me to remain near you at all times, including when you enter the mansion."

"Ah, so that's why."

It wasn't really a problem—it was the man's job, after all—but Silas felt a bit uneasy. His father might not appreciate an outsider entering the mansion without permission. To avoid any issues, he instructed one of the servants to inform his father that he had arrived with a guard assigned by His Highness Alric.

The servant returned shortly and relayed the Baron's message—he had been told to come in immediately.

As the study room grew closer, Silas felt a twinge of nervousness—he had no idea where to start. But one thing was certain: he wasn't going to resign from his job.

He had told Alric he would quit—in a way, at that moment, it had felt like his decision and opinion wouldn't matter anyway, since he was just a mere omega. But as he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, he reminded himself that this was a job where he could earn money through his own efforts. That money was necessary—not just for himself, but for the children at the orphanage he often visited. If he quit, he wouldn't be able to donate to the church anymore either.

Ha, he should have controlled his impulsiveness when speaking to Alric yesterday.

Twisting the doorknob, Silas peeked inside and saw his father seated at his desk, stacks of papers piled in front of him. As Silas stepped into the room, he was startled when the guard behind him also made a move to follow.

"Um, you can wait for me outside."

"My apologies, but His Highness ordered me to stay with you even when you're speaking with your family. Once again, I apologize."

The man bowed even lower—ah, Silas couldn't even blame him for being so obedient. He was simply following Alric's orders.

His father, having overheard their conversation, remained composed. He raised an eyebrow and studied the guard from head to toe before speaking.

"Let him stand over there. And Silas, my son, come closer."

"Yes, Father."

The Baron carefully gathered the scattered papers on his desk and placed them back into their respective files. He set down the pen he had been holding and turned to Silas with a smile—a formal one, the kind Silas had often seen him wear at social events.

"Ah, Silas, my son, I love you dearly, but why has it taken you so long to visit me?"

Silas lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Father."

"So, do you have good news for me? Have you and Alric already spent time together in bed?"

"Father, that's—"

"From the look of your face, I take it he hasn't touched you yet. Well, that's only natural—you two have just met."

Heat rushed to Silas's face, his skin burning with embarrassment. He had expected this topic to come up sooner or later, but he hadn't thought his father would bring it up so bluntly, especially with a guard present. At the very least, they could have spoken about it in private. But, of course, this was just how nobles were—treating the commoners as if they were nothing more than background decor rather than actual people.

Silas had never quite gotten used to that kind of habit.