Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 146

Chapter 146

Medeus pulled Nataek deeper into the alley, and deeper still. Not knowing why, Nataek followed meekly. He couldn’t see Medeus’s face to read his expression, but the long, forceful strides said enough.

So… upset, huh. What set him off so suddenly?

“You’ve picked up the scent again.”

Nataek recalled the words Medeus had uttered just before dragging him off.

Scent…?

Come to think of it, back in Delam he’d been scolded for carrying another’s smell. Did he mean Lagab’s scent now?

At a dead end, Medeus stopped and finally looked back with pale irises.

“Med—mmph!”

Without warning, Medeus seized his cheek and kissed him. Blinking, Nataek received the kiss; thankfully it didn’t last long. With a soft smack, Medeus’s lips let go.

Quietly, Nataek looked up at him. Medeus was lightly biting the lower lip that bore traces of saliva, swallowing his displeasure; his eyes brimmed with agitation.

“Teresi.”

“Yes.”

“Inside…”

He couldn’t finish; he only nibbled the tender inner flesh of Nataek’s lip. It felt like he was trying to bury worry and jealousy, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

Nataek stepped closer and tipped his head, warmth in his gaze as he studied him.

Say it, Medeus. What are you trying to ask?

Medeus’s lips parted.

“Inside…”

Unable to watch him struggle, Nataek spoke first.

“You mean—was anything done to me?”

Medeus looked at him with a trembling gaze.

“…Yes.”

Nataek had returned without a scratch. He had said at once that Lagab hadn’t been violent, and had assumed that would be the end of it. But Medeus had only relaxed for a heartbeat—just long enough to confirm safety.

“Nothing else happened? He didn’t try anything?”

His brows drooped into a worried arc.

Did he always look at me this way? With feelings so obvious they spill over… did he always see me like this?

Thinking back, Nataek’s expression softened. Medeus had likely always watched him with those eyes—from the moment Nataek drew lines and pretended not to see. He slowly set a hand to Medeus’s cheek and stroked the white skin with his thumb.

“Truly, nothing happened.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. Why would I lie about something like this?”

This time he lowered his hand and drew Medeus by the waist, soothing him, gently running his palm up and down.

“And you trained me to fight. If he’d tried anything, you think I’d have stayed still?”

He still couldn’t quite believe they were now… something special. Nor had he ever been in a relationship like this with a man; he had no experience to guide his behavior. One thing was certain: he shouldn’t make Medeus feel this kind of anxiety.

“I didn’t realize you’d worry this much. I should’ve been clearer. I’m sorry.”

Medeus cautiously embraced him and, pressing his lips to Nataek’s neck, murmured, “No. It’s alright. If nothing happened, that’s enough.”

With each word, his breath tickled the skin of Nataek’s throat; that spot pulsed as if a heart lay there, and a tremor of sensation rippled through his body. The odd, ticklish feeling made stillness impossible; Nataek wriggled, toes and fingers tensing.

Yet Medeus, who stirred such unfamiliar feelings, still looked uneasy.

Nataek searched old memories. When someone sunk their cheek to his chest in gloom, he would wrap them in his arms and hold them entirely. He raised his arms to do just that—only to find that Medeus’s thick torso and arms would not fit snugly in his embrace.

…That won’t do.

Another memory: when someone nuzzled him adorably and he could not contain his feeling, he would cup their cheeks and pepper kisses on forehead and crown.

He took Medeus’s cheeks in both hands.

“…”

But with Medeus a head taller, kissing his crown was impossible; even reaching his brow meant rising onto his toes.

Seeing his awkward motions, Medeus asked, puzzled, “What are you doing?”

Nataek realized it then: whatever this was between them was the first time in his life he had gone through any of it.

He looked at Medeus in silence, and worry began to flood that face again. Snapping back to himself, Nataek waved quickly.

“Ah, wait—wait! I’m not about to say anything bad. Don’t misunderstand.”

“Then why look at me like that?”

“It’s just… it’s strange.”

“What is?”

What else—being like this with you.

He had thought it the day he first attended Medeus’s bath: that he was going to have all his firsts with this man.

Words become truth; so it was.

“What’s strange, exactly?”

As worry threatened to return to Medeus’s face, Nataek stopped it. He drew that white cheek in and kissed him.

“Things like this.”

Seeing the corners of Medeus’s eyes relax at once, Nataek found him cute and felt glad—and guilty.

He had still not told Medeus his situation. The expiration date on how long they could remain together. He’d glossed it as “I can’t take responsibility,” yet he felt responsible anyway. It was an unavoidable situation, a bond Medeus had begged for, and Nataek had accepted—but the guilt wouldn’t lift. Seeing Medeus smile so brightly, ignorant of the shadow in his heart, drew a shade across Nataek’s chest. He set his brow to Medeus’s chest, lest the brewing melancholy show on his face.

“Teresi…?”

“You said the scent stuck. Change it back to yours. Please.”

Medeus, I’m sorry. I know I must tell you I’m someone who will one day leave. But… if you know, will you pull away from me? Will you refuse to help me reach the true ending? And if I do reach the true ending like this… could I really leave you and return with an easy heart…?

His thoughts drifted into strange currents. Held tight in Medeus’s arms, Nataek squeezed his eyes shut.

What nonsense. Get a grip. He’s an ancient—and inside a game, no less. Of course the modern world is where you go back to. But… he… I… I don’t know. Truly, I don’t. What should I do?

Never before had another person shaken him so. The one goal in his life that had never wavered was now trembling.

Eyes had followed them since they left the mansion.

“There. Those two—both tall.”

Sibiera pointed after the receding figures of Nataek and Medeus. At his side stood the Ur servant who had earlier guided Nataek to Lagab’s quarters.

“If their movements seem suspicious, report at once. If not, just watch.”

“Yes.”

“A porter, is he… Yet everything about him reeks of Shuran.”

Nataek and Medeus had no idea they were being tailed, nor that suspicion would fall on them so quickly.

Even amid turmoil, ancient time did not rest. At dawn that day, Nataek and Medeus slipped outside quietly. Their destination was a collapsing house in the slums they had visited before.

In the shabby room, the four—Nataek, Medeus, Shuran, and Nammuwa—sat together to begin a strategy session in earnest.

Medeus looked at Shuran.

“Say first what strategy you’ve prepared.”

“Have you no plan of your own?”

Shuran shot him a glare, eyes lifted. He clearly hadn’t forgotten Medeus tripping him at the tavern. Medeus folded his arms.

“There’s nothing more foolish than judging everything solely by one’s own standard.”

“You—what did you say?”

Shuran slammed the table.

You bulldozer. No need to break it; it’s rickety enough as is.

“Shuran!” Nammuwa snapped. Nataek quickly interceded as well.

“He means it as consideration for you. If you say your plan first, we’ll adjust to follow it. Since this is Ur, your and Lord Nammuwa’s stratagems should have priority.”

“That is true.”

Deflated, Shuran answered Nataek—but even as he eased, he caught a firm scolding from Nammuwa, like a child. In that moment, Nataek turned to Medeus and mouthed:

Are you going to keep doing this? You promised not to pick fights.

As I just said, it was consideration—he simply chose to take offense.

At the end of their silent exchange, Nataek sighed. There was a way to make Medeus behave. Looking at Shuran, he slid a hand under the table. Nammuwa’s scolding ended. Nataek said,

“Please continue, Lord Shuran.”

Beneath the old tablecloth, Nataek’s long fingers laced with Medeus’s rough ones. Medeus’s shoulder twitched. Without glancing his way, Nataek slowly squeezed and released the linked hands. Shuran began:

“Here is our strategy.”

Above the table, Shuran’s speech; below it, Nataek and Medeus’s hand‑play.

Medeus drew Nataek’s hand to his thigh and pressed it high. This time, Nataek’s shoulder jumped; something hard brushed the back of his hand.