SAFBIAN Ch 103

Chapter 103

Geumhu read aloud the contents of the thin, narrow note sent by the Shadow Killer.

“The carriage just passed through the castle gates.”

As he burned the paper in the candle flame, the newly furnished office inside the Fox Palace was soon filled with a smoky smell. Haban rested his chin on his hand, eyes closed in thought.

“Though, it’s strange.”

Geumhu murmured, as if breaking the silence.

When Haban opened only his eyes and looked at him without moving, Geumhu ran a weary hand down his face and continued.

“Doesn’t it feel like he’s moving in a way that demands to be noticed?”

“That would make sense.”

A faint chuckle escaped Haban’s lips.

As planned, Yungak’s carriage and the wagon loaded with his belongings had departed the imperial palace at dawn. Though they had reduced the procession as much as possible, it was still rather long, as Yungak naturally had a fondness for extravagance.

Adding the escorts, the number of people moving was not small, and they advanced slowly. So it was inevitable that they would be seen anywhere. The Shadow Killer Haban had assigned to protect and monitor didn’t even need to report in detail due to their conspicuousness.

Since Yungak was acting as if intentionally revealing his whereabouts, Haban couldn’t help but grow suspicious. The problem was, he had no idea what Yungak was plotting.

After all the effort to give him a chance, he had turned away from it.

“Seems we’ve wasted our money.”

Geumhu, a minister, clicked his tongue as if genuinely regretting it.

In truth, the banquet had just been an excuse — Haban had orchestrated it to give Yungak an opportunity. He had created an opening with a clear goal in mind, to draw Yungak into action. Yet instead, Yungak had left the palace.

Geumhu’s brows furrowed deeply for a moment before his expression darkened.

“Is it ‘the time’?”

“It’s not that.”

Haban lowered the arm propping up his chin and leaned back comfortably in the chair.

This was not the time of his death.

In the past, even after Dori was lost, some time had passed before the rebellion began. If Yungak were truly the one behind it, he wouldn’t be ready just yet.

“For now, I’ll tell them to keep watching.”

With a sigh, Geumhu gathered the memorials and stood up.

As if his strength had suddenly left him, he stumbled slightly and opened the door to step outside—only to find a large black shadow blocking his path.

Standing there was Jippyeong, like a man possessed.

“You—why are you here…!”

Startled, Geumhu instinctively looked back. Since Jippyeong was supposed to be guarding the princess of the Jin Kingdom, he naturally checked Haban’s reaction.

But Haban didn’t even bother to look. Though he surely knew Jippyeong was outside the door.

“Just come with me.”

Geumhu dragged Jippyeong out and closed the door. Their bickering and blaming gradually faded into the distance.

Left alone, Haban slowly rubbed beneath his eyes. Then he opened the locked drawer of his desk and took out the carefully rolled-up drawings inside.

All of them were portraits of Dori, seated with eyes lowered.

“Was it around this time?”

As he searched his memory, he realized it had been just about now.

He had been furious when Dori suddenly said he wanted to leave the palace, for some unknown reason. Haban had torn Dori’s body apart in rage and immortalized the sight in these drawings.

To show him — you belong to me. You are no different from this image, so don’t even think about leaving.

Dori had silently wept, shedding tears without a word.

‘He never did explain why, in the end.’

Naturally, this wasn’t the original drawing from the past.

After losing Dori, the Haban from that past had sat in a daze, laying out all the portraits of him. These were drawings the present Haban had made, one by one, like he was possessed, after dreaming of that scene.

He gently brushed the face in one of the drawings with his fingertips. The gentle eyes and tightly pressed lips remained the same, but the now much thinner face looked pitiable.

‘It’s like he’s become someone entirely different.’

Now he even made sure to eat snacks regularly, his cheeks plumper.

Just then—

“Are you in here?”

A small voice, which should still have been asleep, called out.

“Haban?”

When he didn’t answer right away, Dori called him again, as if confirming.

Haban, frozen with his finger still touching the paper, finally came to his senses and began tidying up the drawings. He had never painted Dori from life before, so if Dori saw them, he would surely find it strange.

“Come in.”

Haban quickly locked the drawer and straightened his posture.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Dori peeked his face through the cleverly hidden door, the same color as the wall. He looked like a fox poking its head out from behind a door.

“It’s fine. Will you come here?”

When Haban held out his hand, Dori immediately entered and shut the door behind him.

“Sorry. I just woke up earlier than usual and got bored.”

The emperor’s newly created office in the Fox Palace was only one room away from Dori’s bedchamber.

The room in between had been left undecorated, as Dori hadn’t yet decided what to use it for. But a connecting door had been installed, allowing him to walk from his room to Haban’s office without interruption.

“If you’re busy, I’ll go.”

“Since when do you decide that?”

Haban walked up to him and laced their fingers together, pulling Dori forward. Effortlessly, he brought Dori to sit on his lap, and Dori leaned into his chest as if used to it.

The soft weight and steadily warming body were completely different from the cold images on paper. Haban wrapped an arm tightly around Dori’s waist and held him close.

“You must be tired. Why didn’t you sleep more?”

Slipping a hand inside his robe, he touched smooth, soft skin.

His golden eyes narrowed.

“It’s because of you, Haban.”

The only thing Dori did all day was lounge or roll around in his fox form. The one physical activity he did exhaust himself with was—

Even after Haban had wrung him dry last night until clear liquid poured out again and again, he looked completely unfazed. Instead, he rubbed Dori’s chest and twisted the stiffened nub that had swollen with arousal.

“And how is that my fault? It’s your poor stamina.”

“Ugh! …Is an emperor supposed to have no conscience?”

Dori huffed and pushed his hand away, eyes wide. That daring defiance was far from the submissive expression in the drawings.

Haban pulled at the loosely tied knot of his robe. The fabric slipped away effortlessly, revealing the softly swollen flesh that had been tormented all night and was now red and puffy.

Knowing even a brush of contact would sting, Haban took the teacup he had been drinking from earlier to wake himself and dipped one finger into the remaining liquid.

When the damp fingertip touched his chest, Dori moaned softly and squirmed. The now lukewarm tea helped soothe some of the heat.

“Hoo.”

Haban buried his face in the nape of Dori’s neck and exhaled a short breath.

He considered laying him across the desk and thrusting into him. Though not slick, the entrance had been stretched and would take him in easily.

But Dori, unaware of the dark thoughts in his head, felt sympathy for him.

‘He must really be exhausted. Well, of course — he’s been up since dawn working.’

Just from the scattered papers and scrolls on the desk, it was clear Haban hadn’t just been playing around. Being an emperor wasn’t something anyone could do. Dori gently patted Haban’s back, who looked worn out from state affairs.

At that, Haban gave a disbelieving laugh and began stroking Dori again.

“But won’t you tell me the real reason you woke up so early?”

“Are you that surprised I got up at this hour?”

Were all his jokes about Dori being lazy and a sleepyhead actually serious? Dori pouted, his eyes sharpening.

“It’s not that—it’s that you didn’t fall back asleep. If the bed’s uncomfortable, you should say so, and I’ll change it.”

When Haban pressed the corner of his mouth into a forced smile with his finger, his eyes remained fierce, while his lips formed an awkward grin.

Dori quickly shook his head and pulled away from his hand.

“It’s not that. I just had a bad dream.”

“What kind of dream?”

At Haban’s question, Dori fell into thought.

It was strange. Lately, whenever he woke up crying, he couldn’t remember the dream. But today, he recalled everything vividly. The terrifying, chilling version of Haban.

Especially the original scene—Haban standing as the Red Fox Village burned around him, his entire body seemingly drenched in blood under the glow of the flames.

That’s why he had come. To be sure the Haban holding him now was different from the one in the dream.

“…I don’t remember.”

“Then how do you know it was a bad dream?”

“…”

Dori pressed his lips together instead of answering. Then a sudden thought came to him.

Even if leaving the palace as in the original story was already concerning, what if he suddenly got flung back to the real world?

What if Haban, in a rage, tried to kill Haewon, Cheong, and Hong? If he told him now that he would never think of running away, maybe that could prevent misunderstandings in such a scenario?

That’s why Dori spoke the next words.

“Haban, you know… if by chance I disappear one da—”

Before he could finish, his body was pulled tightly.

“What are you talking about?”

A cold voice answered at once.