Chapter 31
“Yesterday… the person I met was…”
“Yes. It was me. You were completely drunk—barely conscious.”
So it really was him.
The presence he’d sensed, the obstacle he’d bumped into—everything had been Sigmund.
Once he understood the situation, Arnulf glanced around while holding his glass of water. Everything looked unfamiliar. Judging by the atmosphere, it seemed like a hotel room.
“But why… here?”
If he had passed out or fallen asleep, shouldn’t he have been taken home?
Arnulf looked at Sigmund with a perfectly reasonable question in his eyes—only to find those eyes met with a strangely heavy gaze.
“Are you feeling all right?”
The tone matched the look—dark and subdued.
Only then did Arnulf realize that Sigmund’s mood had been grim from the start. The gentle and kind voice he’d remembered was nowhere to be found.
“My body?”
Seeing that troubled face, Arnulf lowered his gaze, suddenly worried about his own condition.
“Ah—!”
And when he saw himself, he gasped.
He snatched up the blanket that had slipped to his thighs and hastily covered his upper body. Just a moment ago, his limbs had felt so heavy and weak he could hardly lift his arms—but surprise erased that thought instantly.
“What in the world…”
He spoke only after covering himself, his face flushing red.
No wonder—he was completely bare.
But that wasn’t all. His entire body was marked red, covered in faint bruises and traces that couldn’t be mistaken.
Even Arnulf knew what those were—the signs of having spent the night with someone.
“What happened yesterday, exactly?” Sigmund asked.
Unlike Arnulf, who was flustered and lost, Sigmund remained calm—if not faintly irritated.
Now that he thought about it, Sigmund had asked him the same thing earlier. Arnulf realized he still hadn’t given a proper answer.
“I met with Baron Preang. We drank and talked.”
“How much did you drink?”
There was an unspoken rebuke behind the question—as if asking how he could get that drunk.
“Not much.”
Arnulf didn’t like how defensive that sounded.
It wasn’t the kind of situation—or the kind of person—to make excuses to. But Sigmund’s tone and expression left him feeling cornered.
“Just two glasses.”
Even so, he added that last line. And at that, Sigmund’s expression changed slightly.
“What kind of drink?”
“Wine.”
He answered obediently, though Sigmund’s interrogating tone carried a hint of concern.
Then Arnulf suddenly realized something strange.
Getting drunk after just two glasses? Impossible.
He might not have been a heavy drinker, but his tolerance wasn’t that low.
Something was off.
“Then what happened after that…”
Sigmund’s calm expression contrasted with his eyes—they flickered uneasily.
“You really don’t remember anything?”
“No.”
Arnulf lowered his gaze again. For some reason, forgetting felt like a crime.
He didn’t know why he felt that way—but he did.
And as his eyes fell on his body again, he saw the reddish marks scattered all over.
‘He says I don’t remember… but with all these marks left behind?’
It wasn’t something he could just deny.
No—surely not. Not with Sigmund, of all people…
That couldn’t be. It mustn’t be.
“Was there… anyone else besides you yesterday?” Arnulf asked carefully.
“No one.”
Sigmund’s firm answer cut him off before he could even finish. His eyes seemed to ask how Arnulf could even think otherwise.
Right—of course not.
‘Then… was it really with Sigmund?’
That only made things worse. Much worse.
“I must have caused you a lot of trouble last night.”
Arnulf sighed softly and apologized.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but it was clear something had gone wrong—and it had to be his fault.
“Trouble? Not at all.”
Sigmund shook his head. His eyes, which had gone cold before, softened again—almost as if he were pleased.
“It was something you permitted.”
“Permitted…?”
Permitted what? Arnulf tilted his head in confusion.
“Yes. Don’t you remember?”
At that question, a voice suddenly echoed in Arnulf’s mind.
“May I have you?”
It was Sigmund’s voice.
And along with that, Arnulf remembered his own answer—followed by hazy flashes of something heated, breathless, and undeniably intimate.
In an instant, his face turned bright red.
Sigmund couldn’t take his eyes off him—the once-calm expression now painted completely scarlet. In truth, Sigmund had never once looked away from him since the moment he woke.
A faint smile played on Sigmund’s lips.
“Wait—uh—no, I—what—is—what’s—”
Arnulf stammered, words falling apart mid-sentence.
He didn’t even know what he was trying to say anymore.
Flustered beyond belief, he finally pulled the blanket up to cover his entire face.
His breathing was ragged—as if he’d just fought a fierce duel.
Even his short, hot breaths felt feverish against his own skin.
How had things possibly ended up like this?!
“Was it something you didn’t want?” Sigmund asked softly. His tone carried a faint melancholy.
Arnulf slowly lowered the blanket and looked up at him.
Sigmund’s expression was shadowed again.
“No, it’s not that.”
Arnulf’s answer came awkwardly, hesitant.
He’d spoken that way because Sigmund’s face—so vulnerable—made his heart soften.
He didn’t remember everything clearly, but he did know he hadn’t rejected Sigmund.
And he couldn’t just pretend it hadn’t happened.
“Then you don’t mean to say you don’t care about what happened between us last night, right?”
“What? No! Of course not!”
What kind of person would think he’d just walk away after that?!
Arnulf shook his head vigorously, his face flushed. Sigmund’s expression eased, if only slightly.
After a moment’s hesitation, Sigmund reached out his hand.
Arnulf blinked at the gesture, unsure what he intended.
The way he just stared—without fear or tension—was so Arnulf-like.
So familiar to Sigmund that it made him smile faintly.
Sigmund’s hand brushed Arnulf’s lips.
A few strands of Arnulf’s red hair had stuck to the corner of his mouth, unnoticed.
“Oh… You could’ve just told me.”
Arnulf looked down, embarrassed, realizing belatedly what Sigmund had done.
“I wanted to.”
The way Sigmund said it—soft, deliberate—carried something more than the simple act itself.
It was strange, the way he made even that sound intimate.
“But about what happened yesterday—”
“If it really bothers you,” Sigmund interrupted gently.
Their voices overlapped.
Arnulf motioned for him to go on, and Sigmund obliged.
“Would you grant me a favor?”
“A favor?”
“Yes.”
Arnulf looked at him curiously. Sigmund’s face was calm—composed, even.
Despite what had happened between them, he seemed almost tranquil.
Maybe that was just how he was.
They’d shared many nights together before—not like last night, but still.
So perhaps Sigmund, like him, was aware of the awkwardness yet chose not to dwell on it.
Arnulf, too, had mixed feelings, but it wasn’t something he could show.
He couldn’t very well bring that topic up again, not after Sigmund had already moved on.
‘Still… why did he even agree so easily in the first place?’
Even if their relationship had improved lately, it wasn’t as if Sigmund and Josef were close enough for… this.
Maybe Arnulf had been worse off than he thought last night—too out of it for Sigmund to even consider calling a doctor or finding an antidote.
‘Yes, that must be it. That explains it.’
Arnulf decided to think of it as an unavoidable accident.
Still, once things settled, he needed to investigate what trick Baron Preang had pulled on him.
But for now, he needed to hear Sigmund’s request.
He gathered his thoughts and nodded for Sigmund to speak.
Sigmund’s lips curved into a beautiful, entrancing smile.
“Please—marry me.”
The words hit like thunder.
“W-what? Marriage?!”
Had he heard right? Arnulf stared wide-eyed at Sigmund.
The man still wore that same perfect, calm smile.
“Yes.”
Even his short reply was effortlessly serene.
Arnulf could only gape, speechless.
Marriage?!
“That’s impossible.”
Arnulf finally found his voice enough to refuse.
Of course, in Hessen, same-sex marriages were legal—used to strengthen alliances between noble families.
Marriage, for them, was considered a sacred union regardless of gender, as long as both parties’ interests aligned.
“I thought so. After all, it was only one night…”
Sigmund’s face darkened again, his eyes falling toward the floor, clouded with sadness.
The sight made Arnulf strangely uneasy.
