When Michele finally came to his senses, three days had already elapsed since their last encounter.
He was almost amazed at how quickly the time had passed without him noticing. After their last time together, it felt as if something had broken inside Michele. However, emotions held no physical form, so little change was visible on the outside.
Yeah. Everything was peaceful, with little difference from usual. Michele still woke up under Ain’s care, dressed in the clothes he prepared, and ate the meals he cooked. Meanwhile, the snowstorm, a guest who was most unwelcome, repeatedly knocked on their windows and rattled their doors.
During these times, Michele fought off boredom with books, letting the remaining hours drift away with the snow and wind. But he didn’t just spend his days as quietly as a dead mouse. When necessary, he spoke to Ain about various matters and even sent him on minor errands. Michele was fine.
Nothing had changed.
—But things were different once night fell.
Ain only sought him out when Michele himself called him to run errands. It almost seemed like a lie that they had done it every night, sometimes not shying away from doing it in the morning and day as well. Their encounters had come to a halt.
Michele wondered if it had all been a dream. Could it be that he had never done anything with Ain in the first place? Perhaps it was all a lascivious and deep illusion, born of cold and loneliness…
Michele had learned far too much about Ain to dismiss it as mere fantasy. It was inconceivable for Michele, who had never had any sexual encounters before, to conjure Ain’s naked body in such vivid detail, even with his eyes closed. The difference in feeling throughout his body under Michele’s grasp, the taste of his lips… How Ain’s voice changed when aroused. No matter how potent one’s imagination might be, it was simply impossible to imagine such things with such vividness and detail without any prior knowledge.
Michele toyed with the emerald ring, counting down the remaining days. Only three more days, and the promised month would be complete. Once that day arrived and he left the mansion to marry Lord Sheleg, he would never again have the opportunity to be so close to Ain.
Ain’s judgement was right.
Yeah, this is it.
This is the end.
Moreover, their relationship had begun under the guise of “education,” solely to please Lord Sheleg. When it came to the methods of holding a man, Michele had learned more than enough. Now, he had the confidence to hold any man, not just Lord Sheleg, with arousal and ease.
“…Agh.”
As the thought of being able to embrace “any” man crossed his mind, something hot rose within Michele’s chest. A large lump clogged his throat, making it sore. Gritting his teeth, he fought back tears, refusing to let them fall.
Michele’s emotions changed frequently, like the ebb and flow of the tide. Sometimes he would calmly surrender to the reality before him; other times he would protest, convinced it couldn’t possibly be. However, Michele’s anguish and confusion amounted to little more than a storm in a teacup, powerless as he was.
Ain, however, remained largely unchanged from before. Unlike Michele, who often became emotional and tearful, Ain remained a calm man, as brusque as ever, whether it was when Michele first met him or now.
…For some reason, Michele began to despise him. Ain, who was nothing more than a mere servant.
A servant was far less powerful than a fallen noble. That much, he was willing to admit. Yet, despite this acknowledgment, his feelings of sadness and frustration towards Ain, who showed no hint of his true emotions, only continued to grow.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Even the slightest indication was enough for Michele, so he wished for Ain to show some semblance of sadness. They only had a few days left, and Lord Sheleg wasn’t there either, so something as little as that shouldn’t be too difficult…
Michele wanted to ruffle Ain’s feathers. That was why he deliberately broke teacups, spilled tea, and left his clothes scattered about, forcing Ain to work.
Look how angry I am, he pushed Ain to hurry up and notice already. He shouted and shouted again, but his mouth remained shut.
…And finally, Michele realised that he had become a depraved nobleman who made life difficult for a servant. A strong wave of guilt washed over him. But no matter how hard Michele tried to garner his attention, Ain didn’t even show signs of annoyance. He was beyond tranquil and even seemed to be at ease. Or perhaps Michele was the only one who perceived it that way…
“Go back.”
When Michele gave the order, Ain was kneeling on the floor, picking up the pieces of the teacup. It was already the third cup that day. The blameless porcelain shattered to pieces every day in place of Michele’s feelings.
“…Sir Anatold?”
Ain lifted his head. Michele stood before the kneeling man, casting a shadow over him. His face wore an expression of chagrin and irritation that didn’t suit its beauty.
“I don’t want to see your face anymore, so don’t show yourself in front of me.”
His words were far too spiteful and cold, causing Michele’s heart to sink, even though it was he who spoke them. He whipped his head around, reluctant to show such emotions.
What if… what if his words had been too harsh, and they ended up wounding Ain? Michele was too scared to even look at him.
“…Is that so? I understand.”
“What…?” Michele looked back, his expression clearly wounded.
“It seems I’ve been hovering around Sir Anatold too much, causing offence and not knowing my place. I will take my leave after cleaning up the remaining shards.”
“Ain…!”
Oops, thought Michele, hastily attempting to speak.
“…Agh.”
But he himself didn’t know what to say. His clear green eyes noticeably shook.
Anger rose within him toward Ain, who remained compliant even in such a situation.
It was simply unthinkable for a servant to say no to a nobleman. He was well aware of that. Of course he knew, but…!
“—I-I said get out, right this instant! Why do you keep loitering around!” Michele yelled, clenching his fists.
“Understood, I will hasten my cleaning. Even if you do not wish to see me, please show consideration for the time being. My master wouldn’t want Sir Anatold to be harmed either.”
Despite Michele’s upset and angry stomping, Ain’s hands continued to clean up the broken shards without pause. Even his voice remained calm. Michele was the only one indignant.
“I… I can clean something as trivial as this myself!”
“Ah…”
Michele grabbed Ain’s arm, forcefully pulling him up and pushing him away. The shards that Ain had painstakingly gathered atop the cloth scattered across the carpet once more.
“Are you satisfied now? Hurry up and leave!”
“Please don’t be like this. You could hurt yourself… Sir Anatold.”
“I can do it myself!”
In a bid to prove his point, Michele knelt down and began gathering the shards with his hands. He picked them up one by one and transferred them to the coarse cloth that had fallen to the ground.
“…Agh!”
Michele’s agitation likely caused him to lose focus, or perhaps his trembling fingers were to blame, but he ended up cutting himself shortly thereafter.
A thin line appeared across his forefinger, scraped by the sharp edge. Within moments, droplets of crimson blood began to form.
“Sir Anatold!”
Michele barely had time to react before Ain grasped his pale hand—the hand of a nobleman, no less. It was not something a servant could touch at will. Yet, there was a decisive and forceful quality to Ain’s actions, enough to mark a difference from his usual self. Taken aback by the suddenness of the situation, Michele could only stare at Ain, surprise evident in his eyes.
“Ah…!”
Soon after, an exclamation escaped Michele’s lips as a sudden sensation met his finger.
The lips of another were placed on his injury. Before the blood could even trickle down his finger, Ain licked it away with his tongue. Michele watched, mesmerised. As his finger disappeared into Ain’s mouth, a shiver ran down his spine. It was only a touch, on such a small part of his body, yet it felt as though lightning had struck.
“St… stop.”
Unable to bear it any longer, Michele tried to pull his hand away. But a strong grip clamped down on his pale wrist, the long, adult hand with thick knuckles refusing to let go easily. It was a stark contrast to Michele’s pale hand, smooth and free of calluses.
“Stop…!” Michele managed to squeeze out. It wasn’t that Ain’s unprompted touch bothered him. It was just that, with his finger in Ain’s mouth, it felt as though he were pushing into a certain, familiar place.
“My apologies, it was just so sudden…” Ain said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. As he spoke, his Adam’s apple swayed, as if he had just swallowed something. Though Ain attempted to erase the smeared blood with a swipe of his hand, a reddish tinge lingered on his hand and lips. However, Michele was the one whose face flushed red. That action—it almost overlapped with the image of Ain swallowing the semen in his mouth.
Oblivious to Michele’s gaze, Ain tore off a piece of his clothing and wrapped it around Michele’s finger. “Please wait a moment. I’ll bring you the medicine and bandages right away.”
“No need… I’m fine. Don’t come back until I call!”
“But, I can’t just leave you alone while you’re injured…”
Michele squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I said, get out!”
“…Sir Anatold.”
“Now!” Michele yelled, practically begging him.
“Understood.”
Only then did Ain rise to his feet. Michele watched his retreating legs as he remained seated on the carpet.
With a thud, the door closed, and Michele was left alone for the very first time. It was the solitude he had so desperately sought, to the point of even admonishing Ain.
“…Ain,” Michele murmured his name. “Ain…”
Having driven him away himself, there was no chance he’d return, not even if he called… He knew that. But Michele repeated his name, not to summon him back but to comfort himself.
“…Ugh.”
Feeling that he might start crying if he called out again, Michele bit down on his lip. Too much comfort would only bring tears.
Michele worried at the cloth tied around his finger. A tug at the end, and it unravelled with ease.
Blood welled anew from the wound. Red dripped onto the fragments of the white teacup, reflecting Michele’s heart. He pressed a kiss to his injured finger.
orcinus comments:
Crazy how quickly my fingers type when I don’t have to write “ah, ngh, hngh” every five seconds…
the moment is coming! Thank you so much for the chapter
Thanks for the chapter
Szczerze mówiąc, wolę czytać takie rozdziały, niż takie, które dotyczą wyłącznie seksu. Podoba mi się, że autorka tak szczegółowo opisała emocje😁🤩