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The evening feast had long since quieted into scattered conversations and half-finished glasses. The Blue Guild’s banquet hall smelled faintly of spilt wine, roasted meat gone cold, and the heavy perfume of tired bodies drifting out into the night. Chairs scraped, laughter dwindled, and one by one, people disappeared into their quarters.
Only the guild master lingered, slumped slightly in his chair. The polished steel of his armor had been exchanged for simple clothes, but his posture still carried the weight of command. His cup was more than half-empty—and his tolerance far less formidable than his sword.
Across the table, the vice guild master’s smile gleamed like candlelight. “You’ve had enough, Hyunsung,” he murmured with an easy laugh, though his eyes were sharp, attentive. “Another cup, and our dignified guild master will be snoring under the table.”
“I’m fine,” came the slurred protest. A faint flush colored Hyunsung’s cheeks, eyes struggling to stay sharp. “It’s just one night. Everyone deserves to celebrate.”
“Of course.” The agreement slid off Kiyoung’s tongue like silk. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you deserve more than just tonight. All this effort, all this sacrifice… and still you won’t allow yourself to rest. Do you know how exhausting it is for me, watching you grind yourself down day after day?”
Hyunsung blinked, confusion mixing with guilt. “…I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh.” Kiyoung’s voice softened, hushed as though soothing a child. “I’m not scolding you. I’d never scold you, Hyunsung. I just…” He tilted his head, letting his smile waver ever so slightly. “I wish you’d let me take care of you. Just once. Isn’t that what a vice guild master is for?”
The words lingered, curling around Hyunsung’s ears like smoke. His lips parted, but nothing emerged. The hesitation was enough.
Kiyoung rose, circling the table to stand behind him. His hands rested lightly on Hyunsung’s shoulders, squeezing with mock reassurance. “See? Even now, you can’t say no. Not to me.” He leaned closer, whispering at his ear, the tone playful, almost teasing. “You trust me too much.”
Hyunsung swallowed, his throat working against the fog of wine. “…I do trust you.”
“That’s why,” Kiyoung murmured, “you’ll come with me now. You’ll let me decide for once.”
When Hyunsung nodded—slow, drowsy, compliant—something sharp and satisfied flickered behind Kiyoung’s eyes.
The guild master’s quarters were tidy, almost sterile. Papers stacked neatly, sword propped against the wall, bed left untouched more often than not. Kiyoung guided him inside, one hand firm at his back, the other taking the half-empty cup from his grip and setting it aside.
“Sit,” he ordered gently, and Hyunsung obeyed without question. The sight of him—hero of the continent, so feared, so revered—sitting pliantly at his command sent a thrill straight through Kiyoung’s chest.
“You work yourself to the bone,” he said, pacing slowly, voice heavy with false pity. “You shoulder everyone’s burdens. You never let yourself falter. Isn’t it exhausting, Hyunsung?”
A faint, tired nod.
“Of course it is.” Kiyoung sighed dramatically, then crouched to meet his eyes. His expression was tender, achingly sympathetic, while his thoughts churned with something far less noble. Look at you. Too drunk, too guilty, too trusting. It’s almost unfair how easy it is. All I have to do is hold out my hand, and you’ll give me everything.
“Then why not surrender to me?” His tone softened to a whisper, coaxing, intimate. “Just tonight. Put everything down. Let me take care of you.”
Hyunsung’s eyes fluttered shut, his shoulders slumping as though the words alone had lifted his burdens. “…If it’s you, then… yes.”
Kiyoung’s smile widened, sharp beneath the softness. He placed a hand against Hyunsung’s cheek, tilting his head so their eyes met. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
For a moment, he let silence stretch, savoring the image: the continent’s savior undone not by battle but by gentle words, seated willingly at his mercy. Then he leaned closer, breath warm against Hyunsung’s ear.
“You’ll always trust me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” came the immediate reply, quiet but unshaken.
“Perfect,” Kiyoung whispered, lips curving. His hand slid down to rest against Hyunsung’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Then you won’t regret tonight.”
Inside, laughter coiled tight and silent, hidden beneath the mask of tenderness. Not until it’s far too late.