4. I should

4. I should

"You look very tired today. You haven't been overdoing it, have you?"

"I just didn't sleep well last night. That's all."

Kloff answered his lover's concern as if it were nothing. It wasn't a lie. He was in the prime of his life — one bad night's sleep hardly mattered. But this omega, sensitive to others, did not seem to agree.

Rapiel kept studying his face until Kloff repeated, "I'm fine, really," and only then did he turn his gaze forward. Wordlessly, his fingers found the edge of Kloff's sleeve and held on. The small gesture was so endearing that Kloff couldn't help smiling. Pretending to look the other way, he twisted his wrist back and caught the soft hand in his.

"Um — people will see——"

The flustered little voice came from a step behind, but Kloff pretended not to hear.

"Over there."

He headed for the upscale restaurant across the street. The crowd was not exactly thick, but there were plenty of amused glances directed at a pair of lovers holding hands in broad daylight, burning bright.

The times were slowly changing, but in public spaces, hand-holding was still considered scandalous by many of the older generation — particularly among the aristocracy. The young, as always, rebelled against the old order, treating public hand-holding as a badge of daring. Today, Kloff was putting it into practice. He knew without looking that Rapiel's face was on fire. No doubt he was mortified by the attention — yet he made no move to pull his hand free.

"You're going too fast. Slow down a little."

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

He quickened the pace as they crossed the street, gripping the warm hand tighter. It was not all fluttering excitement. Lately, he had felt guilty for not being fully faithful to Rapiel — the very idea of letting his mind wander while this wonderful person was right beside him was intolerable. After last night's nightmare, Kloff had reached a conclusion: the fastest path to resolving his frustration was to marry Rapiel as soon as possible. The stride of the alpha marching his pretty omega toward the restaurant was nothing short of grave.

Inside, he gave the host his name and was shown to the reserved table — tucked slightly to one side, as he'd specifically requested. Partitions and potted plants gave it an intimate, enclosed feeling. Perfect for today's plan.

"What a quiet, lovely place."

"The food's good too."

The first course arrived with wine. They ate at a leisurely pace, catching up on what they'd missed during the time apart. Rapiel, who could not hold his drink, was already peach-flushed from a single glass, his eyes creasing with warm smiles. The sight was so charming that Kloff felt the fatigue drain from his body.

As the omega relaxed, a faintly sweet scent began to drift from him — his heat must be approaching. So unlike someone's contradictory blue eyes, cool as frost yet blazing like wildfire — Rapiel's wavering, faintly trembling gaze was achingly tender.

Lips reddened by the wine parted on a warm exhale that stirred something primal in the alpha. Kloff wanted to taste those lips right then and there, but he lacked the courage for a public kiss. Not from a deficit of alpha pride — he simply had no wish to be collared by Rapiel's father as a "scoundrel who defiled an omega before the wedding." Self-control was still within reach. Kloff crossed his legs, laid his napkin over his thigh, and toyed with Rapiel's hand where it rested on the table. The golden-haired omega smiled at him again.

I'm going to die right here at this rate.

Kloff re-crossed his legs the other way and changed the subject.

"Anything happen lately?"

"I've been practicing cooking, as you know. And the other day I scorched a dress while ironing — I still can't get the temperature right, so that's been a bit of a trial."

Rapiel chattered on, and Kloff listened. The main course arrived; they debated whether the meal lived up to its reputation and price. Being with Rapiel put him at ease. There was a corresponding absence of excitement — but marriage was about stability, wasn't it?

After swallowing a bite of tender, juice-running meat, Rapiel said:

"I've been going on and on about myself. How have things been for you, Kloff?"

"Same as always. Meeting clients, methodically dismantling their outlandish delusions, then kicking them in the rear until they find the right path. Plus an endless mountain of paperwork."

"That sounds enormously entertaining. Is that why you couldn't sleep?"

"No. That's a completely unrelated matter."

The truth was, the dream was only vivid right after waking; by now, he could barely remember it. Even granting the obligation of honesty with one's future wife, there were things that didn't need sharing. Dreams ended as dreams, and he had no intention of letting them interfere with reality.

To be perfectly candid, even this morning's dream was already hazy. All he recalled was golden hair, blue eyes, and the fact that the other person had been an intensely sensual omega.

It must have been Rapiel. Compared to the dream version, the real Rapiel seemed a touch less developed — but he was still growing, and in a year or two he would mature into a beauty beyond question. The insistent situation below his napkin was proof enough of that. Kloff smiled as though nothing were the matter and drank his wine.

"I want to know about your daily life too, Kloff. We'll be discussing all sorts of things going forward — I pour out every detail about my day, but you tell me nothing. It's not fair."

Rapiel's faintly hurt pout at the deflection was so endearing that Kloff surrendered.

"It won't be interesting."

"If it's about you, everything is interesting."

"Well, if you insist."

Looking into those sparkling gemstone-blue eyes, he began selecting the more entertaining stories from his dealings with clients and the aristocracy. Rapiel was riveted — nodding, gasping, occasionally clapping. Watching him, Kloff found himself sharing more and more. It was inevitable that his most recent headache — the count — should come up.

He grumbled that the man had a razor-sharp mind and fathomless artistic and humanistic learning, yet possessed zero financial sense, stumbling from one idiotic blunder to the next — and then, after Kloff set spending limits, had proceeded to torment him as though trying to grind him into dust. Rapiel's eyes went perfectly round.

"Count Teiwind?"

"That's the one. An absolute nightmare. Nothing is ever easy. Professional advice goes in one ear and out the other, and he meets every attempt at reason with that insufferable arrogance of his."

"I can't believe it. He has a reputation for being very courteous and considerate."

"If that's courteous and considerate, then I'm the incarnation of good manners."

Kloff spat it out with an irritable edge, and Rapiel laughed. "Just now, you sounded like a child complaining about a friend."

"Let's stop talking about that infuriating man."

"Calling a count an 'infuriating man' — I've never heard anyone speak about him that way."

"Get used to it."

He said it with a scowl, and Rapiel laughed harder, taking none of it seriously. Treating it as a joke, apparently. Had Rapiel taken it seriously, Kloff would have looked petty, so that was its own problem.

"If he's as infuriating as all that, then I have no choice. I received an invitation from the count's estate — I'll have to go by myself, or perhaps with my younger brother."

"An invitation? Don't tell me — the soirée?"

"Ah, you'd know about it. Yes — there's a music event in the rose garden. My favorite master musician is performing, so I really want to go. I was going to ask you to come with me, but——"

The trailing end needed no filling in. But that was not the point. Kloff was curious how Rapiel had come by an invitation from the count's estate. After Kloff's visit to issue his warning, the guest list had been halved again. To his question, Rapiel gave an unexpected answer.

"We're related. Roughly cousins, I think — not close enough for much contact, but recently the count has been sending invitations regularly."

"Related?"

Kloff asked again, unable to believe it. The golden-haired omega nodded with a guileless smile.

"Yes — don't I look like the count?"

It was unbelievable. Or rather, he didn't want to believe it. There were moments when they looked vaguely similar, but he'd chalked that up to the shared hair and eye color. In truth, Rapiel was unmistakably omega through and through, while the count looked nothing like an omega. It wasn't that Aeroc overflowed with alpha energy, but there was certainly no confusion. Only now, hearing it said aloud, did Kloff summon the irritating face in his mind and study Rapiel closely — and yes, perhaps there was a resemblance.

But Aeroc Teiwind and Rapiel Westport were entirely different people. Setting aside the alpha-omega distinction, their speech, their bearing, even their scent — there was not a single point of resemblance. Kloff twisted his lips in a petulant line and dropped his back against the chair.

"You look nothing alike."

"You're being very strange today, Kloff. Everyone else thinks we look remarkably similar. People who don't know us well mistake one for the other all the time. They'll address me as 'count,' or they'll follow the count around thinking he's an omega——"

"Then everyone's eyes are crooked. To me, you look nothing alike. You could line up hundreds of similar-looking people and I'd pick you out."

At that, Rapiel blinked a few times, then smiled with a bashful dip of his head and reached for his water. Kloff stayed where he was, leaned back in a posture slightly too casual for a restaurant, watching him.

Right. I'd know you anywhere.* Rapiel and Aeroc were worlds apart. *But who's the one who followed the count around thinking he was an omega? That creature from before, probably. The way those two were carrying on — clearly not the first time. "A straight face and they take it for interest" — what a joke.

Kloff was suddenly parched. He drained the remaining half of his wine in one go.

"You said earlier that you had something to tell me."

Rapiel, who had lifted his head at some point and was watching Kloff intently, broached the subject with cautious care. As Kloff set down the empty glass, his mind snapped back.

Ah — right. I had a plan today. That useless count — a nuisance whether present or absent.

He reached inside his jacket and drew out what he'd been keeping safe since leaving the office. It was an invitation — fine white handmade paper. Rapiel, who had been watching the hand with sparkling eyes, let out a small "oh" of what sounded oddly like disappointment. Kloff quickly straightened in his seat and held it out.

"I received one too, as it happens. I was going to ask you to come with me — but since you already have your own, the surprise is a bit spoiled."

"Oh — no, not at all. The Rose Garden Night Concert is an extraordinarily romantic affair. I wanted to go with you too, so we had the same idea. I'm happy."

Rapiel said this, but the energy had drained from his voice. His smile was not as bright as Kloff had hoped. What he had been expecting was clear enough: a fine sapphire ring set in platinum, perhaps. An alpha kneeling before him to offer it.

But Kloff had different ideas. He might not manage a spectacular scene, but he was not so hard up that a busy restaurant was the best he could do. A once-in-a-lifetime proposal deserved romance. The event was the count's, but Kloff had played a large enough part in it to feel entitled to some private use.

"I don't know all the ins and outs of aristocratic events. But I'm told the Teiwind rose garden concert has a particular significance — or doesn't it?"

"Ah."

The gloom that had settled over his lover's face gave way to surprise, then bright expectation. Kloff chuckled at the transformation.

"You know what it is?"

"The garden has always been a center of high society, so it's steeped in legends. One tradition revived by the previous countess is the night concert itself. On the night of the full moon, a vow of love made in the rose garden lasts forever — that sort of fairy-tale story. That's why so many people use the occasion to make a special, well, a sort of——"

By this point Rapiel's ears were crimson. Kloff had to fight not to laugh. If he laughed now, Rapiel would go from red to scarlet and possibly faint.

"The concert is on the next full moon. Will you come with me?"

"Yes."

The answer came in a tiny, trailing voice, accompanied by a nod. Unbearably endearing and lovely. Given the costs Aeroc had demanded for the soirée, the concert that night was certain to be lavish and beautiful enough to leave a lasting impression. It would also be the perfect night to propose to his future wife.

Dinner concluded smoothly. By the time dessert arrived, they had emptied the bottle between them. Kloff had drunk most of it, but Rapiel had also had more than usual. He seemed especially happy today, and because that made Kloff happy too, they had both overdone it. When they stepped out of the restaurant into the evening, they decided to walk off the flush rather than take a carriage at once.

By rights, he should be sending Rapiel straight home at this hour, but the thought of delivering him in this state and getting collared by the prospective father-in-law as a "scoundrel who defiled an omega before the wedding" held no appeal whatsoever.

One might ask what connection overdrinking had with indecency, but anyone who had met Viscount Westport — who had contributed mightily to the raising of such a pristinely innocent omega — would not think so. With a critical event ahead, discretion was the better part of valor. A short walk to let the wine dissipate, then he'd put Rapiel into the express carriage he regularly used. The experienced driver would deliver Rapiel to the Westport residence at precisely the time Kloff specified.

"I've never walked around this late at night before. Father is very strict about——"

"I'm well aware. And if you keep walking backwards you're going to fall."

Kloff held out his hand out of concern, and Rapiel, deeply embarrassed, took it. The gesture had meant face forward, not hold my hand — but what did it matter. Kloff held on tightly and walked. Rapiel, claiming dizziness, leaned his head against Kloff's arm. The wine had been too much after all.

The boulevard was lively with evening strollers. Couples like them, families with children out past bedtime, packs of alpha friends, omegas walking with their chaperones. Kloff savored the easy, unhurried atmosphere. Yes — this is what stability feels like.

Then — Rapiel, who had been tilted against Kloff at a precarious angle, suddenly straightened and pointed.

"Over there — isn't that Count Teiwind?"

"What?"

Why is that name coming up again. Kloff's face soured instantly as he looked where Rapiel was pointing. Unlike the count's usual pale suits, the figure wore dark clothing and a hooded cloak, and was walking rapidly, alone, toward somewhere. The hood had slipped open as the figure turned this way and that, scanning nervously, and from what was visible the build was about right for Aeroc.

But there was no reason for the lofty count to be out at this hour, unaccompanied, in that suspicious getup, heading into a foul and darkened alley. And Aeroc always walked with his shoulders squared and his chin lifted — not like this, hunched and wary, head ducked, glancing in every direction like someone carrying a guilty secret.

"Where do you think he's going?"

"No idea. Are you sure it's him? He's not the type to wander around alone at this hour. No carriage, no servants."

"You're right. Could I have been mistaken?"

"Probably. That alley leads toward a very rough part of the city — there's no reason for the count to go there."

The place Kloff meant was the slum known as "the bottom" — the worst in the capital. He knew it well; his shortcut home ran through those streets, and he'd dealt with a few rabid dogs there along the way. Rapiel tilted his head, puzzled.

"You're probably right. At this hour, the count would be playing an instrument or reading. Unless he has a lover."

"Exactly. Or scheming to spend money."

Kloff gave a light nod of agreement.

"That evening I wasn't feeling well, so I went to bed early. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"I wasn't aware I was obligated to report my personal life to you in detail. Or were you planning to set a ceiling on my sleeping hours as well?"

A few days later, when Kloff stopped by to discuss the soirée expenses, he had asked casually — and Aeroc snapped back with sharp irritation. It was such an outsized reaction to a harmless question that Kloff's own mood soured, and he dropped the subject. The cologne was heavier than usual that day, and the headache it gave him made Kloff say only what was strictly necessary before leaving. Aeroc did not offer so much as a perfunctory farewell.