Chapter 135

“W-Wait a second!”

“I told you, it’s fine. Everything that comes out of your body belongs to me.”

“…I’m not fine at all!”

It was so unbearable that the plea for mercy slipped out on its own.

Witnessing him fall into the water had been such a shock, and now he was asking to see him release clear water instead as a replacement? What kind of absurd request was that! There was no way he would obediently agree to something like that.

…But then again, was Haban really that shocked? Back in the imperial palace, when injuries were far more frequent, he had never pressed their bodies together in such urgency before…

There was surely another reason. But whenever Dori tried to ask, his body would shake even more violently, and a wave of pleasure so overwhelming that it clouded his mind would crash over him.

When he stood close, grasped the throbbing column with his hand, and rubbed only the sensitive tip with his fingers, every time the depths below were thrust into in a single stroke, his lower belly would tingle and quake.

In the end, things went exactly as Haban wanted. Dori panted for breath before collapsing onto the freshly laid bedding and falling asleep.

It was probably Haban’s plan to drain his strength so thoroughly that he wouldn’t even think about leaving the bed all day. But thanks to bathing again in hot water and drinking a decoction of precious medicinal herbs, just as he had the day before, Dori woke earlier than expected, fidgeting beneath the blankets.

From then on, he spent his time rolling over and over. His body ached so much that lying in bed all day was no easy task.

“You were the one who promised to take me for a walk first…”

“That was when you weren’t injured. But now you have a wound like this on your face. Don’t even think of going near the valley for the time being.”

Haban’s voice sounded cold. Dori knew it must be out of concern for him, but the chilly tone still stung.

Unconsciously, Dori raised a hand to cover the wound under his chin. Ugh… When he did, the overgenerous amount of ointment smeared onto it clung thickly to his palm.

“In any case, again…”

Haban pressed lightly on Dori’s forehead to keep him from sitting up in embarrassment, fetched a clean cotton cloth, and wiped away the mess from his palm. The dark herbal stain gradually lightened. Then he tucked Dori’s arm completely back under the blanket, opened the drawer beside him, and took out the ointment jar.

Because it was something concerning Dori, he would never leave it to the palace physicians or attendants—he always did everything himself. The way he opened the lid, scooped out some ointment with a sterilized tool, and spread it over the wound was entirely natural for him. And yet, to receive such care for something as trivial and thin as a single eyelash—it was almost embarrassing.

Dori pulled the blanket up to his nose and darted his eyes about again.

“Then… let’s take a different path instead.”

“No.”

Why not?!

Dori felt wronged.

If the valley was off limits, then they could just walk along a low mountain trail and come back down!

The physician who examined him had said it was merely that a timid person had been frightened and then fallen into the valley water, letting a chill seep in. The mild shivers would pass quickly. But right now, Haban was treating him as if he were gravely ill.

The focus in Dori’s eyes blurred in disappointment.

“…What about just sitting on the porch bench?”

“I said the weather outside is chilly. Absolutely not.”

The constant refusals were getting to him. Haban didn’t understand a thing…

“…”

Quietly, Dori pushed back the blanket, sat up, and lowered his gaze, his shoulders drooping.

The unusually subdued behavior actually unsettled Haban more. It was clearly the human form of Dori sitting in front of him, yet his demeanor was exactly that of a scolded white fox sulking at the wall.

He would almost rather Dori shout, “Why not?!” or argue back as he usually did. Instead, without a word, he sat there like a rain-drenched fox, his entire body saying he felt wronged.

“Would you like some dasik¹?”

“…No.”

Dori shook his head weakly. Haban was fairly certain he had seen him glance at the table from the corner of his eye, but now he was saying he didn’t want it. Haban was surprised, but he thought perhaps that wasn’t truly what Dori meant, so he decided to wait a little.

After that, time passed as quickly as a fox with its tail on fire.

“Dori. At least try a bit before it hardens.”

Dasik—a confection made by kneading various grain powders with honey or rice syrup—was both sweet and nutty. The moment it entered the mouth and was bitten into, it would quite literally melt away.

For that reason, it was best enjoyed with a slightly bitter tea, and Dori, who normally couldn’t resist anything sweet, could polish off three or four pieces in one sitting as quickly as a fox blinking.

Normally, Haban would insist that, since they still had a meal to eat later, only two or so pieces the size of a palm should be served, or he would whisk the plate away the moment Dori reached for one.

But today, he had stacked a plate full of them on purpose, thinking to distract Dori so he wouldn’t insist on leaving the room. Yet Dori had acted as if he hadn’t even noticed them, which began to worry Haban.

“In that case, what about wheat… No, if you don’t want something sweet, I can have something else brought.”

This was no good, that was no good.

Haban listed off several of Dori’s favorite foods, but he wouldn’t open his mouth, only gave a short shake of his head each time.

Watching him, Haban’s heart ached.

…Of all people, Dori refusing food?

This was serious. Instead of becoming more stubborn, he was essentially going on a hunger strike. Without turning his head or meeting his gaze, Dori let Haban take one of his hands, which Haban then enclosed in both of his own.

Thanks to feeding him well and letting him rest properly, there was now a little flesh on the back of his hand. In addition, Haban had applied generous amounts of skin lotion, making it smooth and supple.

After all the hardship of fleeing after being kidnapped from the imperial palace, when Haban finally reunited with him, both the backs and palms of his hands had been cracked and chapped. But gradually, they had returned to their original state.

“The outside will look the same today as it did yesterday.”

Haban truly couldn’t fathom Dori’s thinking.

It was autumn—of course the mountains were red, and the leaves turning yellow was to be expected. As winter drew near, the wind would blow, leaves would fall, and the branches would grow bare—this was natural.

So why exhaust himself just to see a view that came every year, unless there was another reason?

“Be honest. Is it that what you want to see isn’t the mountains or the trees, but a person?”

Surely it wasn’t one of the guards stationed outside the door.

Haban smiled kindly but harbored another thought. The Emperor never grew jealous—because if he did, he would simply remove the object of jealousy from before his eyes.

Unaware of such thoughts, Dori pouted and told him not to say such wicked things. Who else would there be for him besides Haban? When Dori said he was hurt by such suspicion, Haban finally relaxed his expression, though his brows remained faintly furrowed. He rubbed them with his fingers, still not looking entirely convinced.

“They say we should wait another day or two to see.”

That was as good as permission.

Dori quickly leaned his head against Haban’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him.

“They’ve lit a fire outside, so it’ll be warm. I’ll dress thickly, and if I get cold, I’ll come right back in.”

“As if you would.”

He would probably insist the breeze felt refreshing even if his lips turned blue and he was sniffling from the cold.

Haban cupped Dori’s chin in one hand, pressing his thumb and forefinger firmly. His smooth, mochi-like cheeks sank inward, while his red, plump lips puckered like a goldfish.

Haban gave them a slow, licking kiss before letting him go.

“You had better dress warmly.”

“Alright.”

Dori promised he wouldn’t overdo it, that he would speak up immediately if he felt unwell. He sealed each promise not with a seal but with a quick kiss, and finally stepped down from the bed to put on several layers of clothing.

Even though he dressed more thickly than usual, Haban still had him put on both an outer coat and a padded jacket, and even draped a wind-blocking cloth over his shoulders.

“…Don’t I look like I’d roll away if someone gave me a push right now?”

“Then I’ll just hold onto you so you don’t roll. And besides, who would dare push you?”

“That’s not the point…”

Dori felt like a snowman. Even picking out his favorite outfit meant nothing when it was all swaddled under layer upon layer, completely ruining the style.

The silk was deep and multi-hued like autumn foliage, embroidered at the sleeves, shoulders, and hem with thread the color of seagull wings, like leaves just before they turned completely red. But dressed in so many layers, the beauty was lost.

Still, that mattered less to him than simply spending time with Haban.

“Enough, let’s go. At this rate, the sun will set.”

If left to him, Haban might go digging for winter hats and gloves in mid-autumn.

Dori grabbed his hand as he reached for a scarf and tugged him toward the door. That part went well—until they actually reached the doorway, where Dori suddenly hesitated.

“You were so impatient, and now you’re wasting all your time here.”

Haban chuckled as he saw Dori fidgeting with the door handle, opening it and closing it again. He had guessed the reason for the sudden shyness.

“J-Just wait a second. I don’t have the courage yet.”

“They’re people you see every day, what’s the big deal?”

“It’s different from when I’m a fox.”

Dori replied in a sulky tone, feeling wronged.

This was Haban’s fault—he had known the sounds could be heard outside, and yet had still tormented him every day…

Apparently, Haban had ordered that no one approach at night. But unlike the vast imperial palace, this house was so small that no one could retreat far enough to be out of earshot.

Taking a deep breath, Dori flung open the door. He meant to walk out as if nothing was wrong, but the moment he saw the guard standing on the front steps, his feet froze in place.

¹ Dasik (다식) – A traditional Korean confection made by kneading powdered grains (such as rice, soybeans, or chestnuts) with honey or rice syrup, then pressing the dough into decorative molds. It is often served with tea.