Chapter 18

“Your Highness, does anything catch your eye?”

Yuneria leaned in, his chair scraping closer as he whispered directly into the Duke’s ear. Under normal circumstances, such intimacy would have made a man’s ears flush or the fine hairs on his neck stand on end, but Duke Grondil remained an unshakeable monolith, radiating an aura as lethal as a biting northern blizzard. While the third basement level of the auction house was remarkably climate-controlled, a localized glacial period seemed to have settled around the Duke. It was Yuneria, not the Duke, who found himself trembling. Shivering, he raised a hand to summon a passing guard.

“Is something the matter, my lord?” the guard asked.

“The air conditioning is far too aggressive. Raise the temperature immediately.”

“…The temperature?” The guard blinked in confusion, glancing at the other patrons in the auction block. Most were sipping chilled beverages, complaining that the atmosphere today was unusually sweltering.

“What are you waiting for? Do it now.”

“Ah, yes… of course. Right away.” Faced with Yuneria’s mounting irritation, the guard lowered his head to mask his disdain. Even through the mask, he knew exactly which nobleman was snapping at him; he had to play the part of the fawning servant. This was Yuneria Ganel Disson, the Marquis’s second son, famous for inheriting his mother’s breathtaking beauty and his father’s utter lack of a soul. Fortunately, the man was as vacuous as he was cruel, making him easy enough to handle with a few hollow platitudes. The guard bowed and scurried away, eager to escape Yuneria’s sight.

“This auction is run by such classless rabble; they don’t even realize they are hosting a guest of your stature,” Yuneria crooned, his expression melting into one of exaggerated concern as he rested a hand on the Duke’s forearm. He dragged his fingertips along the fabric in a slow, provocative caress. “Your Highness, you aren’t feeling a chill, are you? It would be a tragedy if you caught a cold.”

The Duke offered no reaction, his gaze remaining fixed on the stage. The current “item” up for bid was a male-type beastkin, though the crowd was already erupting in boos, claiming the specimen looked worse than a mangy, flea-bitten cur.

What is it? Does he actually like that garbage? Yuneria scowled at the Duke’s intense focus on the stage. If the man had a fetish for beastkin play, Yuneria made a mental note to stop at the adult boutique on the first basement floor to purchase a set of ears and a tail on their way out.

“Your Highness, if that beastkin pleases you, I can—”

“If that looks like a beastkin to you,” the Duke interrupted, his voice so frigid it felt like a physical slap, “perhaps it would be better to simply pluck out your eyes.”

“…Pardon?”

The sheer coldness of the remark made Yuneria reflexively shield his own eyes with his hand. The Duke still hadn’t looked at him, yet the atmosphere surrounding the man had sharpened into a thousand invisible blades, leaving Yuneria paralyzed by the sudden, terrifying fear that his eyes might actually be gouged out. Driven by raw survival instinct, he frantically corrected himself.

“B-Beastman? Of course not! How could that possibly be a real beastkin? It’s just a pathetic human with ears and a tail crudely stitched on. I only used the term because the host introduced him as such. Please… do not misunderstand me.”

Yuneria’s eyelids fluttered frantically as he tried to appease the man. While blinking wouldn’t stop the Duke from taking his eyes if he truly wished, it served to broadcast just how utterly terrified he was.

Sitting with his legs crossed, the Duke finally moved his hand from the armrest. His long, meticulously groomed nails tapped rhythmically against the dark wood—tap, tap. Propping his elbow on the opposite armrest and resting his chin in his palm, he finally spoke, though his eyes never wavered from the stage.

“Why exactly did you drag me all the way here?”

“I only brought you because I heard an item of great interest to Your Highness would be appearing. I certainly didn’t intend to bore you with such vulgar, surgically altered trash.”

Yuneria hadn’t expected a warm reassurance, but he hadn’t anticipated such blatant hostility either. In truth, the Duke’s mood had plummeted the moment they breached the building, a fact the fawning Yuneria had been too self-absorbed to notice. Had his family’s butler been present, the man would have signaled for him to retreat, but the Baron’s black market was no place for subordinates. The admission ticket alone cost more than a year’s living expenses for a family of four, and the additional “participation fee” was even more astronomical. To secure two tickets, Yuneria had been forced to liquidate his own jewelry collection and even resort to stealing the most expensive pieces from his mother’s personal vault.

He wasn’t worried about being branded a thief; he’d simply frame one of the estate servants. The butler would handle the details. Thus, Yuneria struggled to maintain his radiant, confident smile despite the Duke’s oppressive aura. There are too many nobles here. I cannot afford to be humiliated in this place.

Biting his lip, he forced himself not to look around. Had he known the Duke would be this prickly, he would have chosen a mask that covered more of his face. His current mask was a useless, semi-transparent piece of lace adorned with silk flowers, covering only his eyes and the bridge of his nose. It was a complete failure as a disguise, leaving his identity as the fawning youth at the Duke’s side painfully obvious to anyone watching.

Enoch should have sent that bastard by now. Yuneria glanced toward the entrance leading to the stairs. The Baron’s black market had opened yesterday for a week-long run. He hadn’t needed to come today specifically, but he had insisted on it because today was the one day Enoch was guaranteed to be occupied at the mansion. It was the perfect opportunity to win the Duke’s favor while simultaneously disposing of that commoner eyesore.

Lino Cliff.

The mere fact that a commoner had become a holy knight was offensive enough, but seeing him treated as an equal at the Duke’s estate made Yuneria’s blood boil with a jealousy that felt like it might physically burst his chest. After intercepting Enoch’s schedule, Yuneria had selected a day where the aide couldn’t possibly leave. Unless the Duke’s life was in immediate peril, Enoch wouldn’t bother attending a mere high-society auction.

The Duke had brought no private soldiers from the Empire. Having dismissed all the other knights on the first day, Lino was the only person left who would come looking for the Duke. And Yuneria had already sold Lino to the Baron Merchant Guild. It was a clean, illegal human trafficking deal. To a criminal organization like the Baron Merchant Guild, a commoner without a single family member or connection to his name was a target easier to swallow than a bowl of cold soup.

He must be erased today. I am the only one who belongs at the Duke’s side when he returns to the Empire.

Yuneria had never been a man of deep thought, but since arriving at the estate, he had racked his brain until it felt as though his skull might crack. He had convinced himself that this plan was a masterpiece of double-dealing, though the Duke’s icy reception was a variable he hadn’t accounted for.

Still, he held a trump card: the secret knowledge of why a Duke of the Empire was conducting a clandestine, long-term visit to a peanut-sized border kingdom. He has no idea that I know. The fact that he was still by the Duke’s side was proof of his success. And the Duke must remain in the dark.

Yuneria shifted his gaze between the entrance and the Duke. The commoner had to meet his end here today. With a face like that, the boy would fetch a handsome price as a bed warmer for some lecherous old noble. He should be grateful to me for the opportunity to become an aristocrat’s bedroom slave. Indulging in these depraved thoughts, Yuneria offered the Duke a dazzling, eye-crinkling smile that would have earned him a string of slurs from Lino.

The Duke, however, remained entirely immune to the smile Yuneria considered his ultimate weapon. He coldly brushed off the hand Yuneria was using to covertly stroke his bicep. Checking his watch with a look of profound boredom, he saw it was past 5:00 PM. The counterfeit beastkin had already been sold for a pittance to a brothel owner and removed from the stage.

As the stage cleared, the Duke turned his eyes from the auction block, but they didn’t land on Yuneria. Instead, he stared intently at the entrance Yuneria had been glancing at, looking very much like a predator waiting for its prey. A sudden, irrational spike of anxiety pierced Yuneria’s chest.

They had left the estate without disclosing their destination to Enoch. Though they’d used the Duke’s car, they’d disembarked some distance from the Baron building. Yuneria had instructed his bribed servants to “leak” the information to Enoch after lunch—that Yuneria had taken the Duke to the black market. Since Enoch was tied up, the only person he could send as an escort was that pathetic commoner.

But why is he staring at the door as if he’s waiting for someone? Yuneria viewed Enoch as nothing more than a rude, glorified butler, having completely ignored the aide’s actual introduction. He also knew that all communication was jammed during the auction. He’s like a literal beast sometimes. It wasn’t just his appearance; it was his intuition. Yuneria had heard that animals could sense natural disasters before they struck, their instincts far transcending human logic. The Duke’s behavior frequently mirrored that primal sharpness.

Just like now.

He had been glued to the Duke’s side since they left the mansion; he knew the man hadn’t contacted Enoch. With the signals dead, there was no way to reach the aide or that commoner brat. I’m just overthinking it because today is such a high-stakes play.

Attempting to soothe his nerves and divert the Duke’s attention, Yuneria leaned in and whispered, “Your Highness, the Fruit of Letia will be appearing shortly.”

“…The Fruit of Letia?”

The Duke whipped his head around with such force the movement was audible. Because they were so close, his brow nearly brushed Yuneria’s. Those blue-gray eyes bored into Yuneria with a gaze so fierce it felt like it was drilling through his skull. In that instant, Yuneria’s thighs snapped shut, his entire body tensing with a sudden, violent surge of arousal. Having spent every night masturbating under that very same cold, judging stare, it was a conditioned reflex.

“Tsk.”

The Duke reached out with a long finger and pressed firmly against Yuneria’s Adam’s apple, a silent command to back off.

“Ack—cough, cough!”

The pressure from a single finger was enough to cut off his airway, sending him into a violent coughing fit. Saliva sprayed from his lips, yet miraculously, not a single drop touched the Duke’s face or clothing; the moisture seemed to vanish before it could land.

Choking and with his eyes squeezed shut, Yuneria missed the phenomenon entirely. Even if his eyes had been open, the dim lighting of the participant area would have masked the anomaly.

Grondil shoved Yuneria’s shoulder back, pushing him away. He leaned down, mirroring Yuneria’s earlier intimacy, and whispered directly into his ear.

“I don’t know where you overheard that name, but the ‘Fruit of Letia’ does not exist in this world.”

“…Pardon?”

That’s impossible. I was explicitly told it was appearing today. Yuneria stared at the Duke, his coughing fit silenced by pure shock.

“I had my suspicions… but it seems you’ve been playing a part from the beginning, knowing exactly what I was searching for.”

Grondil tapped his chin, the soft murmur causing Yuneria’s heart to plummet into his stomach.

“I-I don’t actually know what a Letia is. I only heard rumors that it was something incredibly rare and precious, and I thought Your Highness might wish to see it—”

“Sir Disson. On that day… were you wearing earplugs?”

“…Wh-What?! What day do you mean?”

Yuneria’s frantic defense was cut short by the Duke’s non-sequitur. He felt as though his very lungs were seizing. Even as his lips denied the accusation, his pupils dilated in terror as the memory of “that day” surged vividly to the forefront of his mind.

“I intentionally used very little power, yet I found it remarkably odd that you remained so perfectly composed. Enoch suspected it immediately, but I suppose I was the fool for deciding to give you the benefit of the doubt. Wouldn’t you agree, Sir Disson?”

“I… I don’t understand…”

Yuneria tried to avert his eyes from the Duke’s pinning stare, but a massive hand clamped around his jaw, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I-It hurts… Aagh!”

“If I burst the eardrums of every ordinary human I meet, I have to listen to Enoch’s endless nagging, so I decided to be lenient. But a creature even more pathetic than a fledgling managed to make a fool out of me, and I find myself in a particularly foul mood.”

“Your Highness… your hand… please let go… hngh…!”

Tears began streaming down Yuneria’s face. He lacked even the capacity to consider crying “pitifully” for sympathy; the agony in his jaw was too absolute. He felt certain that if the Duke applied even a fraction more pressure, his jawbone would shatter into dust.