SPW 81

Sarang, who was sitting on the sofa playing chess, raised his head. Florian, who had jumped out of the car as if taking flight, was neat for someone who had done so and his breathing was also composed. It was thanks to purifying his mind and body on the way.

“Rian?”

He had said he would be late today. Discovering Florian, who had returned home before the sun had even set, Sarang put down his chess piece and quickly crossed the drawing room. Allen, who was instantly given the cold shoulder, placed a single chess piece by himself and muttered lowly.

“Checkmate.”

Sarang, who ran to the entrance in a single breath, greeted Florian without hiding his delight.

“You said you’d be late today.”

“Yes, I did.”

Replying as usual, Florian reached out and covered Sarang’s forehead. The due date was in two days. A low-grade fever, a precursory symptom of the rut period, could be felt from Sarang.

“How is your condition, Sarang?”

“It’s good. Allen even taught me chess. It was fun, like learning soccer tactics. But…”

Sarang, scratching under his chin for no reason, added.

“I like it more that you came early, Rian.”

“…”

Within the next day or two, a rut fever would engulf Sarang. Most alphas became excited even before the rut period began. Florian, who was looking up at Sarang who was merely quiet despite being the same dominant alpha, replied as if sighing.

“Are you that happy to see me?”

At the face that asked why he was asking something so obvious, Florian, who suddenly wanted to kiss those round cheeks, gave a faint smile.

“I guess… I missed you too, Sarang.”

“Rian?”

At the completely unexpected words, Sarang’s eyes widened, and then he showed a worried expression.

“Did something happen?”

From that look, Florian realized that Sarang had not yet heard any of the news. It was a relief. Florian feigned ignorance of his own excessive relief and glanced at Allen over his shoulder.

Allen did not hide his look of interest. It seemed he found the agitation of Florian, who acts like a well-to-do young master but is in reality more cold-hearted than anyone, to be amusing. However, in Florian’s view, Allen also felt an emotion beyond amusement for Sarang. Because it would be incredibly difficult not to feel affection for Sarang.

As if he had read that thought, Allen gave a deliberate wink. After tearing his eyes away from him, Florian had completely regained his usual composure.

“Sarang.”

“Yes, Rian.”

“You trust me, right?”

Even at a question that sounded like it came from the 20th century, Sarang smiled brightly.

“Yes, Rian.”

Although it was the expected answer, Florian was silent for a moment. And before Sarang could become puzzled, he held out his hand.

“Come with me.”

Sarang did not ask where they had to go. He simply said, “Yes,” and took Florian’s hand.

The sun was setting around the time the new city, which was whizzing past the window, turned into the old city. In the car running against the backdrop of the sunset-drenched city, there were only the two of them, Florian and Sarang.

“Sarang, we are going to the summer palace now.”

Sarang was not surprised. Because he had had a premonition of it from the moment he took Florian’s hand. Even if it had been hell and not the summer palace, Sarang would have followed obediently.

“We will spend Sarang’s rut period at the summer palace.”

“Yes, Rian.”

This, too, must be one of Florian’s many kindnesses. Affection that was not romantic love. Fondness that was not sexual love.

The summer palace, built by the first Duke of the Dietrich family for the spouse he loved, was used by the Duke’s spouse for generations. Florian had never brought Sarang to the summer palace after their marriage. The only time Sarang had set foot in the summer palace was when he had faced the handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed man beyond the fluttering rose petals.

The media had covered this topic, albeit passively. The ducal family’s announcement was plain. They cited the distance between the sports club and the summer palace as the reason. For a professional athlete for whom managing his condition is important, a long-distance commute repeated daily is a burden. So the announcement was just that the couple had decided to live together in a mansion owned by the ducal family.

It was a plausible reason. There were people who were persuaded by the ducal family’s position and people who were not. In any case, they would have been persuaded or not according to their own tastes. The important thing was the feelings of Florian and Sarang, the parties concerned.

Sarang had never dreamed of living at the summer palace. Florian’s position was firm, and Sarang accepted that position like a watercolor painting. To Sarang, Florian was every brilliant light and color that existed. A world without Florian would bleed like ink.

So Sarang mulled it over again and again. It was because of his pheromones that he had tied the knot with Florian. Sarang could be of help to Florian, and that alone was enough. He must not be any greedier. Of course, the Sarang of a slightly younger age was different. The eighteen, nineteen-year-old Sarang, who had come to love Florian, and desire him, and wanted to share his heart, not his body, with him, had also dreamed of a happy cohabitation with Florian.

Even then, he did not dare wish for marriage. It was not because Sarang himself was Asian, nor because Florian was the heir to a duke, nor because he was the treasured young master of the Wellington family. The fact that his parents were betas was something that would place half a burden on Florian.

Of course, it was unlikely that Florian would come to love Sarang in a sexual way, but even if by some chance he did, Sarang did not dream of a second generation with Florian. Sarang would give unconditional love to any child, and Florian would too, but the world was different. Florian would also have a hard time watching a child get hurt by the world.

Of course, the premise of a second generation with Florian was impossible from the start. Sarang tried to never, not for a single moment, forget that fact.

The antique doors, imbued with the dignity and history of the ducal family, opened quietly. In every corner of the summer palace, which exuded a steadfast majesty rather than the passage of time despite a century having passed, one could discover the heart of the first Duke toward his spouse. Those traces made the palace, which could have been merely solemn, feel like a beautiful and warm home.

The car, driving down a road lined with splendid gardens on both sides, went around the main building, which was full of the brightness and freshness of summer, and entered the parking lot. The jet-black SUV that had been following them the whole way was nowhere to be seen from a certain point. Miller, Allen, and Bailey were in the SUV. They would probably protect Florian from somewhere within the palace grounds while Sarang spent his rut period.

“Sarang.”

Florian’s low voice, after he had turned off the ignition, tickled Sarang’s ear. In the interior where the engine was off, only the sounds of Florian’s and Sarang’s breathing filled the space.

“When the rut period is over…”

Hesitation could be read in Florian’s silence. In times like these, it was almost certain to be Sarang’s problem, not Florian’s own.

What did I do wrong this time? What flaw did the world find in Sarang?

Florian, who barely managed to control his own surging emotions at Sarang’s calm reaction, turned to his side. He met Sarang’s bead-like eyes, which were already turned toward Florian.

Pretty, and pretty, and pretty again.

“Content that Sarang does not know and has no need to know will dominate the media.”

Sarang could not guess what it was. Many controversies already followed Sarang. People of the Commonwealth, in particular, could not accept Sarang, an alpha with a defect. Though they put on a demure front, they, swayed by sensationalist media, were people who were already prepared not to be persuaded.

“Still, I want you to trust me.”

“…”

“I want you to trust me, Sarang.”

Reading the anxiety that flickered in Florian’s eyes for a moment, Sarang did not reveal that feeling outwardly. He just smiled quietly, like the sunlight settling on the window.

“Yes, Rian.”

He hoped that by smiling, Florian would be relieved. Because he knew Florian’s loving heart for him. Because he did not want to lose it, whatever form it might take.

This time as well, Sarang took Florian’s hand and followed him obediently. The summer sun lingered long in the sky. With the sunset behind him, Sarang carefully held Florian’s hand, and in front of his eyes, blond hair more beautiful than the sunset fluttered.

Rian, they say our matching rate is 92%.

But could it be that you don’t love me even 1%, Rian?

When you cherish and love me like this.

Why don’t you love me even 1%?