PH 8

“Are you all right?”

Once the sound of the Duke’s footsteps had completely faded, the castellan asked.

“Of course. It’s nothing at all. It’s just split and bleeding. More importantly—”

Taking the handkerchief the castellan offered, Nile looked in the direction the Duke had disappeared.

“I was never told he was that beautiful.”

No one—not Gerard, not Count Nuveri, not the castellan or Phil, nor even the servants in the livestock pens—had said a word about the Duke’s appearance. If he had known about the Duke’s looks before leaving for the North, the suffering of crossing the wilderness might have been diluted somewhat. What a pity.

“Beautiful?”

The castellan’s expression turned slightly odd. Nile asked again:

“Why? Surely you don’t consider the Duke’s face unbeautiful in the North?”

“No, of course His Excellency the Duke’s appearance is beautiful. But we Northerners do not speak of His Excellency’s appearance. He is simply… he is who he is.”

The castellan, answering thus, seemed slightly flustered—uncharacteristically so—but soon regained his usual composure and said to Nile:

“Now that His Excellency has returned, please do not come to the stables anymore.”

Nile nodded as well. The Duke’s appearance had no bearing on the commission. Even if the Duke had been a hideously ugly man, Nile would still have had to attend to him at night. Now that the Duke had returned, it was time to fulfill his duty. But…

“This isn’t going to be easy.”

Nile touched his split lip and muttered to himself.

It truly seemed like it wouldn’t be easy.

∞ ∞ ∞

To reach the Duke’s quarters, one had to pass through several corridors lined with guardian statues of saints, beneath ceilings as high as a chapel’s. The man who guided Nile was a taciturn knight with golden hair and gray eyes; after thoroughly searching Nile’s body several times to make sure he was hiding no bladed weapons, he finally opened the door.

“Your Excellency, Nile Giles is here.”

The door opened to reveal a vast space. Nile glanced around the room once.

They say you can guess a person’s character from their room. If so, the owner of this room clearly disliked unnecessary things, was rational, and hated anything cumbersome.

The tapestries hanging on every paneled wall were beautiful, but they were all identical—the crest of House Sirarund. It felt less like pride in the family and more like hanging anything at all for the purpose of insulation.

The curtains over the arched doorways were of tooled red leather, also apparently for insulation.

The large desk and bookshelf, carved from whole logs, were of black wood, with roughly hammered iron fittings inlaid on top.

Rushes were spread on the floor, and there were no further decorations. Everything was rough and austere, except for the stone fireplace, which was unusually large—a massive hearth that served its purpose of heating.

Nile walked slowly toward the Duke. Head slightly lowered, steps not too large—polite but not servile. He was a commoner, not a criminal, and he had come here on a formal commission.

“Your Excellency.”

Nile bent his knee, spread his hands to either side in a bow, and then looked up at the Duke.

During the day, the Duke had looked like a soldier, but now he wore a long robe of comfortable velvet, nearly black in color with sable trim at the edges. Around his waist was a belt set with green gems, which dangerously emphasized the line from his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist.

The stone fireplace cast a sharp shadow across the Duke’s high-bridged nose. That contrast made him look beautiful and dangerous. If a poet had been in this room, he could have spun a hundred narratives just from the shadow of the Duke’s brows.

‘Why does a man like this suffer from a pathological aversion?’

Nile thought to himself.

‘And how is it that this man has such a perfectly fitting affliction? An alpha who rejects omegas.’

Was he not like a legendary creature slowly committing suicide?

“Wretched one.”

At that moment, the Duke spoke. Nile collected himself and lowered his eyes, just enough to remain courteous. The Duke was still breathtakingly beautiful, but he didn’t want to get hit again for staring in a daze.

“I will give you the opportunity to cure the illness of me, the Duke of Sirarund—the guardian of the North, heir to the blood of ancient heroes.”

Nile thought the Duke spoke as if he were bestowing some great privilege upon him.

“I must be cured.”

He walked slowly toward Nile.

“Even if I must use the body of a wretch like you, I must cure my illness and carry on my line.”

Is that so. What an honor. With a demure face, Nile sneered inwardly.

“Wretched one. You must cure my illness by any means before spring comes. If you fail, you will not receive the agreed-upon reward.”

That was the first Nile had heard of that. He blinked quietly and asked:

“Could you define what you mean by ‘cure my illness’?”

“Make me erect.”

“…”

“Make it possible for me to penetrate another’s body and ejaculate.”

Nile lowered his head without answering. This was truly difficult.

Truth be told, when Nile had accepted the commission, he hadn’t taken it as particularly hard. He’d had the rather complacent thought: what’s so hard about making a grown alpha capable of intercourse?

But the Duke he met in person defied all expectations in every way.

The Ice Lord. The impossibly cold northern man. A heart frozen purple, breath that turned to frost.

Before coming here, Nile had vaguely formed an image of the Duke of Sirarund—roughly hewn as if with a chisel, as stubborn and unpleasant as the northern chill.

Nile hadn’t cared about the Duke’s personality. He had believed that no matter what kind of man it was, once you got his pants off and took hold of his member, he would eventually become erect—especially if he was an alpha.

But the lord of the Ice Castle he now faced had eyes that cold. Ice, yes—but not crudely chopped blocks; rather, it was splendid, delicate flowers of crystallized snow.

To be honest, Nile was extremely taken with the Duke’s appearance. He had always been hopelessly weak to beautiful people—and what man isn’t?—and the Duke was the most beautiful creature Nile had ever seen.

If the Duke had been an omega, or even a beta—and if he had been just a little shorter—Nile wouldn’t have cared if he was a grand duke or anything else; he would have knelt and courted him. No matter how many times he was beaten with that cane, he would have begged for just one kiss.

But reality was not so kind. The Duke was an alpha, not an omega, he loathed Nile, and he even addressed Nile not by name but with the contemptuous epithet “wretched one.”

Making a man like this erect… Nile was at a loss. He himself felt he could become erect for the Duke, but the Duke seemed impossible. No, from the start, the word “erect” didn’t even suit the Duke at all.

“I hate omegas.”

Turning his gaze toward the blazing fire, the Duke spoke.

“I hate people. And of all of them, I loathe omegas to the point of revulsion.”

Nile gave a bitter smile.

“Undress.”

“…”

“Wretched one. Aren’t you a male prostitute?”

“Your Excellency, please don’t call me that.”

“You came here for money to make me erect. What is that if not a male prostitute?”

Nile could not answer. He bit his lip lightly, then released it, and slowly began to untie the fastenings of his coat. Loosening his cuffs, he crossed his arms up over his head and pulled off his shirt.

Standing still after removing his upper garments, the Duke indicated his lower clothing with a gesture of his chin. Nile unbuttoned his trousers as well. After undoing a few buttons, the trousers slid down easily.

He didn’t stop there—Nile also unfastened his undergarments and let them fall. Lifting his eyes only slightly, he saw the Duke staring wide-eyed at what Nile was doing.

This damned temperament of mine. Nile lamented inwardly as he stepped out of his undergarments completely.

Exposing his long, pinkish member without reserve, Nile stood straight and looked at the Duke. There—is this enough? You told me to undress, so I’ve undressed everything. His stance seemed to declare as much.

The Duke’s gaze traveled from Nile’s neck to his shoulders, then down to his chest. Over his slender waist and flat stomach—and to the member below.

In Nile’s opinion, his body was decent. No, actually, he prided himself on being rather fine. He wasn’t the bulky muscular type, but long, lean muscles were well distributed throughout, and his height of about six feet was above average for a central-region man.

His limbs were long to match his height, and his member was also fairly large, so the omegas he had slept with had shown high satisfaction. Honestly, he could boast that his body wouldn’t be out of place anywhere.

The Duke, however, did not think so. His expression as he looked at Nile’s naked body grew worse and worse, and at one point he involuntarily covered his mouth with one hand—but quickly lowered it again.

He seemed to be trying to maintain a dignified expression, but the Duke’s face had already gone pale. And in his eyes, a flash of revulsion. Fear.

‘At this rate, not only will the commission fail, but I might even be killed by the client.’

Watching the Duke’s revulsion grow deeper than his fear, Nile thought to himself. He probably hadn’t needed to show his member… but anyway, this damned temperament of his was the problem.