“I guess I can’t be as calm as usual today either.”

Yeocheong thought he caught a glimpse of his ears turning slightly red when Jihyuk lowered his head. But he decided not to dwell on it.

Even the smallest action could ripple through the future, stir it up and change its course. No matter what circumstances might have led to Jihyuk truly loving him in this life, it wouldn’t change what had already happened.

‘I remember it, so how could it ever become something that didn’t exist? Even if no one else knows about it, it still undeniably happened for me.’

So Yeocheong decided not to waver. Circumstances may change, but people don’t. With this thought, he pretended not to notice the blush on Jihyuk’s ears.

“Didn’t Your Highness visit Yeon Palace every day under the pretext of preparing me for the consummation and getting me used to you?”

“It was just an excuse to see you, although I always said… even for me tonight is not that easy.”

It was a shyness that seemed both fitting and out of place. Yeocheong let out a faint, mocking laugh at the contradiction.

“Is that so? For someone who says such things, you seem to have waited quite eagerly.”

“It would be a lie to say that I have no desire… but if you do not wish it, I have no intention of forcing you.”

“How can you say such a thing so easily? It’s not something that can be decided just because I don’t want it. Besides, who would consider a spouse who hasn’t even been married properly to be a proper spouse?”

Avoiding something unpleasant wasn’t always an option. And if that avoidance depended solely on Jihyuk’s kindness, Yeocheong disliked the idea even more.

“What happens within the bedchamber won’t be spoken of outside.”

“But it’s something you and I will both know, isn’t it?”

There was no chance of a child taking root in him. And if there was one thing Yeocheong was good at, it was putting up with senseless situations.

If he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t have returned to this place at all. But since he was here, simply postponing the completion was both pointless and impossible to endure forever.

With a resolute expression on his face, Yeocheong thought it would be far better to adapt to the inevitable while he could still anticipate it, rather than be caught off guard by overnight changes.

“…Your Highness.”

Jihyuk began, watching him closely. In contrast to his earlier calm demeanour, he now seemed slightly anxious.

“Do you wish to have a child?”

It was a strange question, given the context. Whether one was a primary consort or a concubine, the ability to bear a child was a matter of life and death for the women of the inner court. Even Yeocheong’s own mother, the Fifth Empress Consort, might have been exiled from the palace when her homeland fell if she had not borne a child.

To say you don’t want a child would be an even stranger answer. Yeocheong thought as much and was about to reply when a memory stopped him.

“Was it because I couldn’t have a child? Because my body was so useless that, no matter how many nights we spent together, the baby we longed for never came?”

In the past, Yeocheong had desperately wanted a child, but he hadn’t worried too much about it. He had assumed that once his weakened body recovered, the child would come naturally in time.

The torment of his inability to conceive, and the self-blame that followed, had only really consumed Yeocheong after Jihyuk had left him.

‘If I’d had a child, would things have been even slightly better? Would he not have discarded me so coldly?’

These thoughts had haunted him endlessly as he berated himself for his inadequacy. The memory of that time cast an undeniable shadow over Yeocheong’s face.

“Wife?”

Hearing Jihyuk call him, Yeocheong realised that his expression must have looked strange. He raised his head and forced a smile. A child, he thought. If it had been his former self, he would have answered like that:

“Yes. If a child who resembled both Your Highness and myself were to come to us… I would be truly overjoyed. So much so that I would feel it was enough to end my life in happiness.”

Yeocheong wasn’t used to lying, but he was confident that no one could doubt the sincerity of these words. It wasn’t a lie. He had simply omitted the fact that these were feelings from the past – feelings that had once undeniably been his own.

“I see.”

“So there’s no need for Your Highness to worry unnecessarily.”

Yeocheong smiled at the thought. He wondered if he’d ever smiled so brightly in front of Jihyuk since his return, but it didn’t matter now.

The candlelight that dimly lit the room flickered and disappeared in the breeze.

***

The hairstyle that had been discussed and half-pinned down for nearly half an hour was returned to its natural state with a single touch of Jihyuk’s hand.

While tucking the strands that had fallen over Yeocheong’s shoulders behind his ear, Jihyuk used his other hand to untie the straps of Yeocheong’s robe. The garment, which was designed to be easily untied, quickly lost its shape under his gentle tugging and slipped off Yeocheong’s shoulders, cascading down his back.

“Ah…”

The familiar scent that Yeocheong had come to associate with Jihyuk began to tickle his senses. Even the thin layer of cloth that still clung to his body felt overly sensitive, as if every touch was amplified.

Although Yeocheong had received no proper training as a prince, one lesson from his youth had been drilled into him: it was shameful to expose one’s scent carelessly. This memory resurfaced now, increasing his self-consciousness.

Even though Yeocheong had instinctively covered his scent all the time, when the overwhelming pheromones of an extreme Yang-dominant like Jihyuk flooded his unaccustomed body, he lost the ability to control himself. Without a chance to hide his scent, Yeocheong collapsed on the bed.

‘It’s only natural since this is my first time with this body…’

His body, now hypersensitive as it had been to intimacy for the first time, felt unfamiliar and disobedient. Flustered, Yeocheong tried to hide his flushed face against the pillow.

“Ah!”

But his tentative attempt was quickly thwarted by Jihyuk. In one swift motion, Jihyuk snatched the pillow away, leaving Yeocheong helplessly reaching for it as it was unceremoniously thrown to the floor.

Unlike Yeocheong, whose face and even his chest were flushed as his body reacted uncontrollably to the intense pheromones, Jihyuk appeared calm on the outside.

Yeocheong was an ordinary Omega, while Jihyuk was an Alpha of extraordinary strength, an extreme Yang dominant. Even if Yeocheong lost control completely, it wouldn’t be enough to break Jihyuk’s composure or make him lose his rationality.

“Wife.”

But contrary to this logical truth, Jihyuk was anything but calm. Stripped of his own clothes and tossing them aside, he caressed Yeocheong’s burning face with a gaze devoid of his usual calm, his expression tinged with desperation.

Once the scents of a Yang Dominant and an Omega mingled, reason and circumstance became meaningless concepts. Yeocheong understood this very well. Still, the vast difference in their characteristics should have maintained some semblance of restraint.

“Your scent… is intoxicatingly sweet. I’m no longer a boy going through puberty, and yet I’m completely unable to control it. It’s a bit embarrassing.”

He looked at Yeocheong as if the roles were reversed – as if Yeocheong were the extreme Alpha and Jihyuk the ordinary Yang dominant. The depth and intensity of emotion in Jihyuk’s gaze was so overwhelming that even Yeocheong, who had resolved not to let himself be affected by these feelings, felt captured for a moment.

‘The emotions stirred by scent are nothing more than illusions that exist while bodies are entwined.’

With this thought, he reached out for Jihyuk. This would be the last moment in which he could hold on to such clarity. He knew that Jihyuk’s scent would completely cloud his mind.

“There is no need to hold back. After all, I am Your Highness’s wife.” Yeocheong said softly and pulled Jihyuk closer to him.

It was the start of a long night.

The night unfolded as Yeocheong had expected – a time when reason disappeared and only instinct was left to guide them. The longer their intimacy lasted, the more his thoughts blurred, and in the end his memories of the night were incomplete, broken into fragments.

***

“Ahh…”

Yeocheong stirred awake in the hours before dawn, before the sun had risen. He turned unconsciously in bed, then groaned as a sharp pain radiated from his lower back, bringing flashes of the previous night back to his mind.

The memories were incomplete, fading into indistinct dots. It probably hadn’t ended where his memory had left off. Though much of the night had been a haze, fragmented images had surfaced in his mind, leaving him confused.

“Ugh…”

Yeocheong pushed himself up with some effort. He and Jihyuk were lying side by side on the big bed. As Yeocheong moved, Jihyuk’s arm, which had been draped lightly over him, slipped down and fell back onto the mattress.

Looking at Jihyuk’s peaceful form, Yeocheong bit back another groan and tried to steady himself, the pain in his body reminding him of how intense the night had been.

Jihyuk remained fast asleep, undisturbed by Yeocheong’s movements. His peaceful face, with gently closed eyes, was so serene that it seemed that even if Yeocheong were to strangle him right now, he wouldn’t wake up.

Yeocheong looked at him for a long moment before slowly extending his hand.

‘If I did it now, could I kill him just like this?’

Jihyuk’s defenceless expression made it seem possible that even with Yeocheong’s hands around his neck, he could remain in that peaceful slumber. Though his body was exhausted and his strength barely sufficient, Yeocheong’s fingers hovered lightly over Jihyuk’s neck, almost as if enchanted.

“No… no. Not like this… not this easy…”

Yeocheong whispered to himself, shaking his head to clear his mind of dark thoughts.

Even in deep sleep, Jihyuk would undoubtedly wake up the moment the hands tightened around his neck. The thought of searching the room for one of the decorative blades and using it to finish him crossed Yeocheong’s mind. But even that wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t bring the kind of revenge Yeocheong wanted.

‘I want him to suffer for a long time. As much as I suffered—no, I can’t return all of it, but… this can’t end so easily. I won’t let him off this comfortably.’

Yeocheong turned away from Jihyuk and lay on his side, closing his eyes again. His whole body ached as if he’d been beaten.

He wondered if he’d ever be able to fall asleep again, but exhaustion from the night’s turmoil finally dragged him back to sleep. His breathing became steady and his tightly curled body slowly relaxed, one hand slipping limply back onto the bed.

“……”

Just as Yeocheong’s soft, uneven breathing settled, signalling a deep sleep, Jihyuk’s eyes slowly opened.

He lay still, watching Yeocheong in silence, his gaze unreadable.