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Phainon pesters Mydei to do a “training exchange” with him. Mydei reluctantly agrees, only to find himself lying on the ground with Phainon leaning over him.
“You know,” Phainon says casually, “back when I used to train with the other Okheman guards, I’d do this with them all the time.”
Mydei narrows his eyes. “With the other guards?”
“Yeah,” Phainon replies. “They’d always help me check my form and give me advice.”
For some reason, he steps over Mydei’s body, placing his feet just above either side of his hips. “They’d lie down over here, like you, just to make sure I was doing it right.”
Mydei’s eyes widen. “What do you—”
And then Phainon bends his knees and lowers himself, all the way down. He stops right above Mydei’s groin, and it’s close, so close that the heat from his body is almost palpable, but still out of reach.
“With them under me, watching… I’d move up, and down, up, and down…”
He shifts his hips as he says it, moving in slow, deliberate rolls.
Then, leaning in just a little, he drops his voice to a low whisper, knowing Mydei can hear every word. “And I’d say thank you when I came down on them… every single time.”
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Phainon’s always busy with modelling, but Mydei’s the one who’s been waiting for him. When an ad featuring Phainon, who’s wearing just an unbuttoned shirt and underwear, drops for the whole world to see, Mydei is shocked and maybe a little mad about it.
He planned to just talk to Phainon after he comes back from work. But when Phainon walks in, teasing him with the underwear that’s got his thighs displayed all over the ads and magazines in Okhema, something in Mydei snaps.
Phainon might belong to the world on camera, but here, in the quiet of their shared home, he’s his, and his alone.
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Phainon has always been a strange person. He’s talkative, vocal, and… loud. He does a lot of weird things too, to the point where Mydei barely reacts anymore. That is, until something happens that makes Mydei question just what is going on with Phainon.
When an enemy catches Mydei off guard, Phainon rushes in to take the blow – stupid, considering Mydei’s the immortal one. However, something else catches them by surprise.
The thing bites Phainon in the ass.
In desperation, Phainon bends over and yells at Mydei to hit it, and Mydei slaps it as hard as he can. The resulting sound is a resounding smack that echoes throughout the area.
“Nnngh—!”
And that, too.
Mydei stares at Phainon in shock. Phainon, to his credit, looks equally mortified by the odd sound he just made. Mydei feels a little bad about it, but Phainon just brushes him off.
It doesn’t stop there. More strange things like this happen, Phainon laughing it off each time, and Mydei can’t help but wonder: What exactly is Phainon trying to hide?
Another question also lingers in his mind: Why does Mydei keep getting strange thoughts about him too?
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Mydei dreams. Not often – but when he does, he dreams about a man he has never met.
A man with hair as white as snow, eyes as blue as the open sky. With a smile that could rival the brightest of lights. With a voice, warm and soothing, like a gentle embrace.
In the dreams, he is a man Mydei calls “Deliverer”. Not the one spoken of in the prophecy, not the “Deliverer from beyond the skies”, but someone else entirely. Someone who feels achingly familiar, as if they had once stood side by side beneath a sky the world no longer remembers.
Is it possible to miss someone who, in the eyes of the world, might not even exist?
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To boost the Chrysos Heirs’ popularity, Caelus suggests a themed photoshoot, with Phainon chosen as the first model. However, only Mydei doesn’t get to see his attire until the day of the shoot.
When Mydei arrives carrying the pomegranate juice and the fig wood cane, he finds Phainon sitting on the coffin-shaped prop like a divine offering: snow-white hair trails down his back, adorned with gold and purple, and a chiton clings onto him, barely covering his torso. One bent leg reveals an unfair amount of thigh.
The sight leaves him breathless… and strangely irritated.
One thing leads to another, and Mydei accidentally trips, spilling the juice all over Phainon. Phainon slips, and they end up tumbling into the coffin. Then, the door creaks open.
Mydei panics. He shoves Phainon to the side, slips in behind him, and closes the lid shut.
Locked inside together, they’re pressed close in the tight, dark space. The heat between them is unbearable, and every movement ignites a tension they neither expected – nor can deny.
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