Chapter 29

Uh… uh… uh?

Even after the realization dawned that his lips were pressed flush against Leon’s, Elwin remained utterly frozen. Perhaps it was because those lips—usually curved in a mocking smirk, pouring out nothing but vexing remarks—were so unexpectedly, bewilderingly soft.

The frantic drumming of their hearts where their chests met, the foreign heat of the heavy frame pinning him down—none of it truly registered. Only the vivid, burning sensation of Leon’s mouth lingered, eclipsing all else.

Leon seemed no less paralyzed. One of his hands cradled Elwin’s head, fingers tangled near his shoulder, while the other braced against the stable floor. For several agonizing seconds, they simply hung there, suspended in the shared warmth of their mouths, until Leon jolted back to reality and scrambled away.

“Ahem. Hm, ahem. Are you unharmed, Sir Elwin?”

“Ah, yes—yes, of course, thanks to your quick intervention. M-Mr. Leon, did your wound reopen in the fall?”

“I am perfectly fine.”

Elwin bolted upright, his movements jerky and belated. Unable to bring himself to look Leon in the eye, he busied his hands with brushing away every last phantom speck of straw clinging to his coat. Yet, the frantic, defensive dusting did absolutely nothing to quiet the riot in his head.

What on earth just happened? Our lips touched. Just now! No, no, that is absurd. It is nothing worth dwelling on. A mere accident—no different than tripping over a stray cobblestone. It means absolutely nothing. Yes, nothing at all… yet our lips touched.

He had escaped what could have been a nasty injury, so logically, he should have been calming down. Instead, his pulse accelerated, sending a fierce heat climbing up his cheeks. Why did these unexplainable incidents keep happening whenever this man was near? Why did his own heart betray him with such bizarre fluctuations?

Every single time Elwin made contact with him, a strange vertigo swept through his senses. His stomach fluttered, and somewhere deep within his chest, a delicate, unbearable ache began to bloom. It was surely nothing more than annoyance—the natural physical friction of being handled so roughly by an uninvited nuisance.

Yes, that had to be it.

Unless…

Could it be… excitement?

The moment the word surfaced, his inner turmoil spiraled out of control. He kept his head bowed, obsessively plucking dry straw from his knees, before finally gathering the courage to look up. He found Leon staring down at him, his amber eyes completely unreadable.

“Sir Elwin.”

The customary, teasing smile had vanished entirely from Leon’s face, causing Elwin’s heart to plummet with a heavy, painful thud. He felt an instinctive, warning chill—if he met this man’s gaze now, something irreversible would happen.

In stark contrast to his usual insolence, Leon hesitated, weighing his words with agonizing deliberation before speaking.

“There is something I must tell you regarding Lord Dwight.”

The instant that name left Leon’s lips, Elwin felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Lord Dwight was the key to his family’s future. He was not supposed to be daydreaming about a nameless rogue, let alone letting him dictate his pulse. How could he have allowed his focus to drift so shamefully? Pulling his straying thoughts back into a rigid line, Elwin hardened his expression.

“What of him?”

“I am well aware that you consider Lord Dwight an indispensable guest, my lord. However…”

“…”

“Did you not harbor the same doubts earlier? Whether he is truly a gentleman deserving of such exquisite treatment is… highly questionable.”

The warning was couched in polite euphemisms, but the core was sharp. Leon was actively telling him to beware of Dwight, directly challenging Elwin’s desperate scheme to win the man’s favor. A slow, defensive heat crept up Elwin’s neck.

He had been utterly repulsed by Dwight’s vulgar display in the stables only moments ago, yet he could not bring himself to nod in agreement. It was not because Leon’s advice was presumptuous. In truth, the man’s tone was far more sober than usual, his assessment was flawless, and his timing was impeccable.

The true obstacle was Elwin’s own fragile, tattered pride. He had suspected it before, but hearing Leon vocalize it laid the truth bare with agonizing clarity: Leon had seen through him from the very beginning. He knew exactly why Elwin was debasing himself for Dwight’s sake. He knew exactly what a miserable creature Dwight truly was.

Perhaps that explained the immediate, sharp hostility Leon had shown upon arriving at the county. How pathetic must Elwin’s clumsy, desperate maneuvering have appeared in this rogue’s eyes?

Leon was frivolous, yes, but he possessed a quiet, unyielding dignity. Even when he played the flatterer, he never truly degraded himself. He was fundamentally different from Elwin, who was prepared to cling to a tyrant for survival while still desperately trying to preserve his precious, useless pride.

Hearing such advice from Leon made Elwin feel utterly insignificant. It was a humiliating realization, made worse by the lingering, electric thrill that had just passed between them.

“…Lord Dwight is the presumptive heir who will one day rule this fief. That status alone dictates that he must be received with the utmost hospitality.”

Elwin forced the words out, swallowing the bitter lump of pride rising in his throat. It was not merely a petulant rebuttal; the harsh reality was that Dwight’s character mattered little when his title held the power of life and death over the estate.

Leon stared at his rigid posture before replying with a quiet, devastating gentleness.

“Someone as fiercely upright as you, Sir Elwin, tends to believe that what is visible must be the whole truth. I have always considered that one of your most endearing virtues, my lord.”

The comment only made Elwin bristle further, his defenses flaring. Apparently, Leon viewed him as nothing more than an innocent, sheltered fool who could not grasp the harsh realities of the world.

Elwin knew perfectly well that Dwight was a blackguard. He simply lacked the luxury of choosing his allies. Tinging his words with a sharp, defensive edge, he countered.

“Perhaps. And that is precisely why I exercise extreme caution when dealing with individuals who refuse to reveal their true identities—such as an unbidden guest who materialized out of thin air to offer unsolicited counsel.”

If his suspicions were correct, Leon was no former academy classmate of Dwight’s. Though Elwin had previously decided to overlook this discrepancy, his wounded pride drove him to weaponize it now.

Leon’s brow arched, a fleeting, peculiar expression crossing his features. He had clearly not expected Elwin to pierce his cover so directly. Yet, rather than showing any sign of panic at having his secret touched, his lips curved into a slow, amused line.

“When we have already gone so far as to share our lips, I wondered what greater proof of sincerity could possibly be required. Yet it seems I remain weighed and found wanting in your eyes, my lord. I must strive harder to earn your trust.”

“What? What on earth are you… what?”

Elwin’s entire face erupted into a brilliant crimson. He had launched a calculated, thorny assault, only to have it swept aside by a shamelessly intimate jest. He stood frozen, entirely out of his depth.

“Is it not so? You bestowed your personal handkerchief upon me, labeled me your friend, and have now claimed my very lips—yet you still insist that your most cherished guest is Lord Dwight. How could I not harbor a little jealousy?”

Leon’s amber eyes crinkled with genuine amusement as he offered a languid, unbothered smile. Panicking, Elwin shot a frantic glance around the empty yard, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper.

“Mind your tongue! Someone might overhear such scandalous nonsense. Do not speak of such things so lightly.”

“I speak nothing but the absolute truth.”

Leon watched the young master flounder in beautiful confusion for a quiet moment, then suddenly reached out. Elwin tensed, bracing for another unwanted touch from this libertine, but Leon merely brushed a golden strand of straw from his hair with a touch as light as a passing breeze.

Leon gazed at the dry stalk—which matched the pale gold of Elwin’s hair perfectly—as though it were the most precious treasure in the world. Unable to help himself, Elwin’s gaze drifted down to Leon’s lips. The sensory memory of their contact rushed back with terrifying clarity, causing his stomach to drop.

He was completely, utterly bewildered. He did not know who Leon truly was, whether these honeyed words held any weight, or why the mere sight of him sent his senses into such disarray.

Elwin was a creature of duty, entirely unequipped for such chaotic emotions. He was not the type to abandon his ancestral obligations for a fleeting thrill or a foolish, romantic fancy. Steeling his resolve, he deliberately ignored Leon’s piercing gaze.

“You are indeed a guest of this house, Mr. Leon, and I shall ensure you are treated with the respect due to your station.”

“Sir Elwin, that was not my point…”

“It is the solemn duty of a host to accommodate those under his roof. I must also seek out Lord Dwight and offer a formal apology for the day’s unpleasantness.”

Elwin drew the boundary with cold, unyielding finality before marching toward the remaining horse. Leon’s silent, tight-jawed assistance with the remaining tack made his displeasure obvious, and the two completed their chores in a heavy, suffocating silence.

***