Red Velvet and Regret

The lights in Eyan's office still burned, a quiet glow stretching across the polished floor as the Emperor remained buried in work, his pen scratching steadily over parchment.

The door creaked open.

Hans stepped in cautiously. "Your Majesty… you're still here? You didn't go?"

Eyan didn't glance up. "No. I'm not going tonight."

Hans blinked. "Oh."

There was a brief pause.

"Did you get the book I asked for?" Eyan asked, his voice calm, eyes still fixed on the documents in front of him.

Hans stepped forward, clutching a cloth-wrapped object. "I couldn't find it in the royal library, so I asked someone to bring it from the capital."

He hesitated. "Your Majesty, can I ask you something?"

Eyan kept writing. "Speak."

Hans shifted uncomfortably. "Who told you about this book?"

Eyan's pen paused just briefly. "Eva's friend. She mentioned that Eva was reading it the last time they visited the library."

"…Why do you ask?"

Hans raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is the right book?"

"Yes." Eyan's tone was confident. "This is the right one."

Hans set the book on the desk. "Very well. I'm leaving it here."

"Wait," Eyan called out as Hans turned. "Hans… read it for me."

Hans froze. "What?"

"Read it," Eyan repeated.

Hans looked at him as if he'd grown horns. "But…"

Eyan gestured at the papers in front of him. "Can't you see I'm working? Just read it."

Hans sighed, dramatically. "Your Majesty, I really think you should read this yourself."

"Hans…" Eyan warned.

Muttering low under his breath, Hans grumbled, "You'll regret this."

He opened the book reluctantly, scanning the first page. Then, with a resigned breath, he read aloud:

> "His calloused fingers trailed down her spine, slow and possessive, as he whispered—'Tonight, I'll claim—'"

Eyan moved with lightning speed. In the blink of an eye, he shot up from his chair and snatched the book from Hans's hands.

A heavy silence hung between them.

"…I think you're right," Eyan muttered, carefully placing the book facedown on the desk. "This is the wrong book."

Hans nodded stiffly. "You're right. Definitely the wrong one."

They both stared at anything but each other, the air growing more awkward with every breath.

Eyan cleared his throat. "You should go, Hans. It's late."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Hans didn't need to be told twice.

He stepped out and closed the door gently behind him.

Outside, he let out a breath, smirk tugging at his lips as he muttered,

"I told you… you'd regret it."

Eyan leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, rubbing his temples.

"Princess was right…" he muttered. "Lady Aranel is dangerous."

His eyes drifted back to the red velvet-covered book sitting defiantly on his desk, as if mocking him.

He reached for it, fingers brushing the spine.

Halfway through opening it, he paused.

"No… no, I think I shouldn't read that."

He sat back again.

A beat of silence.

"It's just a book. Nothing serious."

And with that excellent logic, he opened it again.

The pages rustled as he flipped through them slowly. Then faster.

Then slower again.

His eyes skimmed the words, lingering longer than he intended on every scene.

And then—

A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous.

"So that's why she was pale and red…"

He smirked to himself, brows raised. "I didn't know princess liked this kind of thing."

Another page turned.

And another.

And then—he stopped.

The air felt warmer than before. His collar suddenly far too tight.

The vivid descriptions, the breathless tension, the slow-burning desire that poured off the pages—

He felt it.

Eyan snapped the book shut with a sharp thud.

He stood up abruptly.

"I think I should just go home."