1. Hey, Pretty Count — What's Your Name? What's Your Number?

1. Hey, Pretty Count — What's Your Name? What's Your Number?

He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling.

The back of his head ached as if it were splitting open. He reached up instinctively. Not "as if," apparently — it really was. His fingers met bandages. His vision went black for an instant, then brightened. Dizziness rose to the point of nausea. But he didn't want to stay lying in an unfamiliar place, so he forced himself upright. A worried voice came from beside him.

"Are you all right?"

He turned his head. The light was dazzling. A soft glow suffused the lavish room. Sunlight and breeze drifted through fluttering lace curtains. It was peaceful, pleasant. But that wasn't all.

A blond man sat at the bedside. His face was delicate and pale, as though he'd stepped out of a painting, and full of anxious concern. His eyes were a blue close to royal blue, like gemstones. At first glance he might have seemed fragile, but there was sincerity in those earnest eyes — a current of both innocence and intellect. From the set of his shoulders and the carriage of his head, he appeared to be a man of considerable refinement. A noble of high standing, surely.

Woman, man? Alpha, omega?

Going by the attire — male. And most likely an alpha.

Either way, he wasn't inclined to refuse the attention. Those straight shoulders, those arms and hands that moved with an effortless grace. A hand reached toward him and brushed the bandaged forehead, then the cheek. It didn't particularly hurt, yet the man bit his lip as if the pain were his own. At that sight, his pulse doubled.

He caught the outstretched hand. The man didn't pull away. If anything, he gripped back tighter. He brought the hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. A smile melted across the man's face. The back of his own head throbbed in tandem.

What on earth happened while I was unconscious? For a beauty like this to appear and tend to me.

"Thank you for your concern."

The man stiffened slightly at this perfectly ordinary courtesy. His voice cracked on the next word, which was worrying, but he smoothed out the awkward rasp with a few clears of his throat. Once he'd composed himself into a proper expression and a proper tone, he tried again.

"To think I'd have the fortune of meeting such a beauty. Perhaps a blow to the head isn't entirely a bad thing. I am — I am — oh? Hmm…"

A moment of confusion. He couldn't recall his name. Temporary disorientation from the head injury? His bewilderment must have shown plainly, because a shadow fell across that beautiful face at once.

"Kloff? Does it hurt badly? I'll go call the doctor back—"

Ah. Kloff, then. My name is Kloff. It sounds a bit rustic and blunt, but at least it's not ridiculous. Now — time to learn this angel's name. He caught the man's hand before he could rush out. When those blue eyes turned back, he gave his best smile.

"I'd rather be nursed by you than any doctor."

A brazen line, delivered shamelessly. He was in pain, yes, but not dying, and his instincts told him that letting this person slip away now would be a lifelong regret. He could dress it up all he liked, but in the end it was simply alpha instinct overriding the survival kind. Well — an alpha in his prime could be forgiven that.

The man gave him an ambiguous smile in response. Worry, surprise, a trace of shyness, and just the faintest prim edge — perfection. His memories might have fled, but his body was functioning with remarkable precision. His heart was hammering wildly at every captivating reaction from this beautiful angel. Quite a sturdy body he had, in fact. Despite the pounding that threatened to crack his ribs, the heart stayed firmly in his chest and none of it showed on his face. Not a trace of heat rose to his cheeks, either. Apparently I'm rather shameless. Good to know.

"Are you really all right?"

"Perfectly. My head is throbbing, but I expect it will pass soon enough. More importantly, there's something I'd like to know."

"What is it?"

The man leaned closer, slightly flustered. Could I kiss him? No — that would be unconscionable on a first meeting. Introductions first. He pressed his lips to the back of the hand still resting in his — a hand that felt as though it had never known a moment's hardship — and asked:

"What is your name, beautiful one?"

"What?"

The angel looked horrified. And so did he — at himself, that is. The instant those widened blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, a swooping vertigo seized his insides. Falling for someone at first sight, with no memories to his name. Like magic. Or perhaps like a newly hatched duckling imprinting on the first thing it sees. In any case, he was grateful the mother duck was beautiful.

"What is your name, beautiful angel?"

"…If this is a joke, stop it. I'm not amused."

"It's no joke. I'm truly delighted to meet someone as beautiful as you. Someone like me, who is nothing — ah, am I nothing? Probably so. Being in your presence somehow gives me that feeling. Regardless — I'm curious about you. Would you tell me your name once more?"

"…AAAAGH!"

When he asked a second time, the man was too stunned to answer. He practically tumbled out of the room. If the dizziness hadn't been so crippling, he would have chased the lingering trace of the man's presence, scattered behind him like magic dust. But he could barely sit up as it was. Instead he called out several times, "Is anyone there?"

No one came. After a brief delay, the open door clicked shut. Locked in. This is a bit lonely. The angel is gone. My head hurts. Perhaps I'll sleep. I'm apparently a very easygoing person.

Before long, a commotion outside jolted him awake. The door burst open and the golden-haired beauty reappeared, this time with a doctor in tow. When he groaned and tried to sit up, the doctor shook his head and stopped him. Instead, wearing a grave expression, the doctor drew a stethoscope from his bag and fitted it to his ears. The cold metal against his chest made him shudder.

"What is your name?"

"Kloff, I'm told."

He wasn't particularly unwell, memory aside. To make that clear, he gave his most guileless smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet such a fine physician. I'm not badly hurt, really. A small knock to the head, but I don't believe it's cause for great concern."

The doctor removed the stethoscope almost immediately.

"The formal register. This is very serious."

"Amnesia from a strong impact — that much I can accept. But how can a person just change? He used honorifics with me. Used the word esteemed name. And he kissed my hand! Normally he'd charge at me like a stallion in rut, and before you could blink he'd have my clothes off and — in broad daylight — make me do all manner of mortifying — AH!"

The golden-haired angel standing beside the bed looked ready to faint. It was an ambiguous sort of description — insult or confession? The doctor groaned with the gravity of someone delivering a terminal diagnosis.

"Can you fix this?"

"I can't say. But it shouldn't be permanent. This is, well… this is Mr. Bendyke, after all."

"If it's temporary, how long until he comes back? He's so polite it's making me ill."

The doctor shook his head at the demand for specifics.

"No one can guarantee a timeline."

"But this is a critical time for us."

"Even so, a second shock wouldn't necessarily help. Best to wait and see. In many cases memory returns within a few days."

The doctor departed with nothing more useful than a prescription anyone could have written — rest — and the beautiful man stood at a wary distance, staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost.

"You're really not joking?"

"…No."

"Fine. I'll believe you for now. But if I find out this is a joke, you're in for it."

"Yes."

"Don't answer like that — meekly! Be rough. Be — you know—"

"Yes?"

"Crude and uncultured and ignorant and arrogant all at once! Not that innocent look — I need eyes so intense they make my knees buckle, that shameless, possessive, insufferably brazen—!"

The frantic shouting left him speechless. What on earth had this Kloff person done? This is beginning to feel very strange.

"Won't you at least tell me your name?"

"I insult you like that and you still don't get angry? Something is very, very wrong."

"So — your name—"

"You think my name matters right now? Hugo!"

He shouted again and dashed out. Quite spirited for someone who doesn't look the type.

A short while later, the butler called Hugo appeared. He took one look at Kloff — who greeted him with an amiable bow — and his eyes went perfectly round. The fastidious old butler swept a sharp gaze over Kloff from head to toe. A chill ran down his spine. The throbbing at the back of his skull intensified to something like a hammer blow. Instinctive revulsion stirred. But there was no reason for a butler of such evident caliber to be rude without cause. From the doctor and the angel's conversation, it seemed Kloff — the person he apparently was — had certain issues. In that case, a proper apology was in order.

"If I've committed any offense, please allow me to apologize."

"Pfft."

The stern butler's mouth twitched. The man addressed as count had gone dead white. He seized Kloff's shoulders — neatly aligned as they were — and shook him.

"Snap out of it! You shouldn't be apologizing here — you should be snarling like a dog whose food got snatched away!"

"A stallion in rut, and now a dog robbed of its meal. Was this person a beast rather than a man?"

"Kh—!"

Behind them, the butler — who had been gathering bandages — lost his composure and burst out laughing. He fought to suppress it. The golden-haired angel whipped around and glared.

"Ahem. The doctor did say to wait and observe, did he not? It will come back soon enough. Separately, I must say I prefer this version of Mr. Bendyke. A most courteous gentleman."

"Hugo."

"There's no need for you to worry so, my lord. Mr. Bendyke is perfectly fine. Rather more handsome than before, if I may say."

The man addressed as count wrinkled his face in displeasure. He brooded, then his eyes suddenly lit up.

"What if we hit his head again?"

"…I would appreciate being spared that."

"Even for someone of Mr. Bendyke's constitution, a second blow could see him tucked under a coffin lid rather than fine silk sheets."

When both men objected, the count let out a pained groan. More violent-natured than he looks. Even more charming, really.

*

"Kloff Bendyke has lost his mind."

The rumor spread like wildfire. The man who normally radiated menace like a predator even when smiling was now beaming like some guileless country lad, practically radiating hearts and sparkles as he greeted people. Everyone who witnessed it recoiled in horror.

He had no intention of alarming anyone. He was simply smiling and offering polite nods. But people reacted as if a corpse had risen from its grave, put on lingerie, and started waltzing — and that baffled this pure-hearted Kloff terribly.

"What have I done wrong?"

Everything. You're being polite. You're supposed to be an arrogant man whose ego pierces the heavens. But saying that honestly would only make him sigh in dejection, so it wasn't an option. The whole situation was agonizing for the onlookers, too. Odd as he'd become, Kloff was still Kloff. His courtesy was spine-crawling, yes, but even in the unsettling state of having no memories, he never once shrank. That alone was remarkable. If Aeroc had lost his memories, he'd surely have been consumed by anxiety every waking moment. That innate nerve of Kloff's hadn't gone anywhere — he slept well, ate well, and wandered freely. Within the manor, at least. On top of that, he flirted with Aeroc every chance he got.

"Beautiful angel. Won't you tell me your name?"

"Angel! Don't call me something so revolting!"

"Then all you have to do is tell me your name."

The cloying manner was bad enough, but more than that — Aeroc simply didn't want to tell him. Why would you forget me? I died and came back to life and still remembered you. This is all your fault. I won't tell you until you remember on your own.

Hugo, meanwhile, was dying of laughter. This isn't funny! Kloff flinched at every encounter with Hugo, and it was entirely understandable. How mercilessly the man had tormented him. Poor thing. Just because Kloff had done a few indecent things to Aeroc and swelled his belly a bit, Hugo had made a hobby of harassing him. Waking him before dawn to tend the garden, or making him copy out treatises on moral philosophy so dull they could stop a heartbeat.

Every time Kloff protested, Hugo's razor-sharp glare made him cower involuntarily, so no one intervened. Kloff had simply had to endure.

—This is nothing.

When Hugo sent the perfectly capable gardener on holiday, then declared the grounds a disgrace and tossed Kloff a single pair of pruning shears to maintain the entire vast garden, Kloff had ground his teeth — but he hadn't backed down.

—I don't have to do this. I'm his spouse, no matter what anyone says. Unofficially, but still.

—It's just — if I back down here, I feel like I'll never be allowed to stay with you. Hugo would invent some excuse and throw me out. Cranky old geezer. Just retire already.

There had been grumbling, sure, but Aeroc had thought he was bearing up stoically.

"To be frank, the butler frightens me a little. My heart pounds and I break into a cold sweat whenever he appears. Ha. I must have done something terrible in the past."

He laughed mildly and held up a palm streaked with sweat. He'd been this stressed the whole time. Poor Kloff. Before he knew what he was doing, Aeroc took that hand and blew softly across the damp skin to cool it.

"The angel is very kind to me."

"Well, of course—"

You're my alpha. He almost said it, then stopped. He didn't want to explain willingly. Kloff was the one who'd stubbornly insisted and dragged Aeroc into all of this — the man who'd said he'd never do this twice, who'd been practically forced into staying — and he had the nerve to forget? Unforgivable. Even if he lost everything about himself, how could he lose Aeroc too?

Five months ago, the pup he'd created entirely by his own bullheadedness was sitting right there in Aeroc's belly, and he'd forgotten the omega carrying his child? On top of that, Kloff seemed uncertain whether Aeroc was even an omega or an alpha. After claiming he'd imprinted! It was a lie! How could an imprinted alpha forget the omega carrying his first child? Bastard!

"Angel, will you not tell me your name today either?"

"Remember it yourself!"

"That's rather difficult… I couldn't even remember my own name."

"Forgetting my name is a far graver sin than that."

"Hmm. What a predicament."

Aeroc had shut himself in the study, devouring every book on amnesia he could find. Kloff — bandages now removed — lingered nearby. He tended to stay indoors, exploring himself methodically rather than doing anything reckless while his memory was gone. At the moment he was scanning the spines of well-worn law books with a look of recognition.

Was his legal mind resurfacing? Aeroc watched quietly. But Kloff soon said, "Whoever this was, they studied hard. These are the only books this worn," and moved on to another shelf as if he'd lost interest. Aeroc felt a pang of disappointment mixed, oddly, with a touch of satisfaction. It rankled that the first thing to stir was a law book. Kloff should have remembered Aeroc first.

Scouring the study's collection of psychiatric texts turned up one useful lead. Several passages stated that rather than administering a sudden shock, engaging in familiar situations and routines aided memory recovery.

Familiar routines. Setting aside the kind that involved removing clothes, that was the majority of what they did. The former option wasn't entirely unappealing, truthfully, but this hapless, bumbling version was not to Aeroc's taste. More than that — doing that with a Kloff who was courteous and well-mannered instead of insufferably arrogant somehow felt like an affair. So beyond holding hands, Aeroc hadn't attempted even a light kiss. One couldn't rely on the language of the body forever.

Besides, if even that failed to bring his memories back, the despair might be crushing — so he filed it away as a last resort. Instead, he decided to spend time on the everyday activities the two of them had shared most often. Aeroc set his book aside and stood. He walked over to where Kloff was browsing the catalogue in puzzled fascination.

"What is it, angel?"

"We're going out. I've suddenly thought of something I want to buy."

"I see."

No reaction at all to unplanned expenditure. Hmm, that's not enough to trigger it.

"I'm going to purchase some newly released paintings and sculptures."

He rolled his eyes slightly and added the last part. Kloff smiled warmly.

"Ah, paintings and sculptures. A refined hobby befitting an angel."

Warmly? That wasn't right! Paintings were one thing, but sculptures were utterly useless — normally he'd be ranting that if Aeroc added one more piece of rubbish to the collection he wouldn't stand for it, and if Aeroc was so bored he'd make sure he wasn't, and then he'd dodge Hugo's eye, back Aeroc into a corner, and start with the trousers—

"Nothing else to say?"

"May I come along?"

The beast who'd badgered and nagged his way into trying to put twins in Aeroc, and now he was meekly asking to come along? At this point, Aeroc was the one under stress. He was past the critical period, so there was no great danger — but this was his first pregnancy! How could the father of the child turn into this grinning imbecile?

On the walk to the exhibition, Kloff smiled at every single person whose eye he caught. No one disliked being greeted by a handsome, well-built young alpha with impeccable manners. Well — no one except one person.

Every guileless smile made Aeroc's blood boil. Guileless? Kloff Bendyke, guileless? And he claimed to have imprinted! Did a head injury erase imprinting? The doctor had said it couldn't. Because Kloff was imprinted on Aeroc, it was biologically impossible for him to be attracted to anyone else. Even with the head injury, he'd experience a physiological rejection response, so Aeroc was told to watch him closely and make sure he didn't overexert himself. Blissfully unaware of the state of mind in which Aeroc was doing this watching, the idiot alpha threw a flirtatious greeting at a flower vendor on the street.

"Good afternoon, beautiful madam."

"Oh my."

She was small and slight, with faded golden hair. A tall alpha with a fine bearing greeting her with such courtesy made her flush. Not young, but unmistakably a charming omega through and through. Aeroc's heart lurched.

Don't you look at another person's alpha. He's mine.

Fists clenched, Aeroc planted himself at Kloff's side. The woman smiled at Aeroc too, but her gaze stayed fixed on Kloff throughout.

"Are these for sale?"

"Yes! I'll give you a good price."

Business must have been slow — the flowers in the basket weren't exactly fresh. She plucked the most presentable bunch from the lot and beamed. Kloff considered for a moment, then accepted them. He reached casually for his pocket. But.

"Ah — I'm sorry."

Of course he had no money. He couldn't remember the combination to his own safe. Thanks to that, Aeroc too was penniless aside from a few silver coins he'd squirreled away. Household expenses were all settled by note and processed in bulk at regular intervals, so there was no immediate hardship. Hugo managed the petty cash. But if Kloff's memory didn't return, they might eventually have to pry the safe open.

When Aeroc — rendered a pauper by association — let out a derisive snort, Kloff looked his way helplessly. One silver coin was nothing. He simply didn't want to give it.

"I don't have any. We barely have enough for the carriage home."

The Teiwind coach was in fact scheduled to collect them, but he was feeling spiteful and gave a curt reply.

"Ah, I see."

Reluctantly, Kloff returned the bouquet. The vendor watched the exchange and sighed with disappointment.

"I'll stop by again next time. I hope you have a lovely day."

As Kloff turned to leave with a courteous farewell, the woman stopped him.

"Wait — at least take this. A gift for a handsome gentleman."

"Would that be all right? Thank you so much."

Kloff's face lit up with delight. The vendor gazed at him as if spellbound.

You said flowers were just garbage once they wilted. But a petite, blond omega is all it takes for your eyes to spin in your head. Someone like me — an alpha, not even small — you just toyed with. That's all it was. Bastard. The imprinting was a lie all along.

"I'm leaving."

His mood plummeted. A little bump on the head and this was how Kloff treated him? Bastard. Bastard. Was Aeroc just a fish already caught? Got him pregnant, so he can't run — was that the calculation? The imprinting was never real. Bastard. You were after my fortune all along. Devil. He was so furious he stomped with every step. Hugo would have scolded him severely for it.

He hadn't gone more than a few steps when a sharp twinge pulled across his belly. The third party residing inside apparently objected to the sudden tantrum.

"Ugh."

He doubled over instinctively, arms wrapping around his stomach. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He might have collapsed right there on the street.

"Are you all right?"

The philanderer — who'd been too busy casting smiles at strangers to pay Aeroc any mind — approached and steadied him with a look of genuine concern.

"You've gone very pale."

His expression was deeply serious. Good. That's how you should look. Don't smile at other people. Look at me. Your child right here wants its father's attention. We need you.

"My stomach hurts."

He grimaced slightly and showed the belly he was cradling in both hands. At five months, the slight swell was visible only to someone touching it — otherwise the pregnancy didn't show.

"What should I do — shall I call a carriage?"

"That's not the point. Rub it."

"Pardon?"

When his belly ached, Kloff always soothed it with his large, warm hands. Both Aeroc and the baby settled quickly under that touch. Kloff looked profoundly startled by this perfectly reasonable request. A swell of emotion pressed behind Aeroc's eyes.

"I said rub it."

He seized Kloff's hesitant wrist and pulled it toward his belly. Kloff, wearing a gravely serious expression, said, "Are you certain that's appropriate?" — and then gingerly cupped the back of Aeroc's hand. Why are you being careful here, of all places? Aeroc took the hand and shoved it straight under his jacket. He felt those large fingers go rigid against him.

"Rub. In circles, like this."

One mercy: this idiot followed instructions well. The cramping eased quickly. As he rubbed in gentle strokes, Kloff opened his mouth. "Your stomach—" Yes. This is your doing, remember? Was this it? Was the trigger alpha instinct, the baby? He'd always been mad about making babies, after all. A twinge of jealousy mixed with rising relief—

"This is—"

"Did something come back to you?"

"Hmm."

Kloff pondered, then placed both hands on Aeroc's shoulders and smiled cheerfully.

"You've got quite the potbelly for how you look. Has that meal already digested? If it's the lavatory you need, let's head home. Going that red in the face — it's charming and endearing— GKH."

A fury-laden kick to the shin. Kloff hopped on one foot, protesting, "What was that for?" with the wounded indignation of the unjustly punished.

"You go home!"

He shouted and resumed stomping toward the gallery, which wasn't far. The tall man limping after him still clutched the red rose he'd been given. Aeroc's eyes stung.

His mood had hit rock bottom. For low spirits, there was no remedy quite like extravagant spending. He didn't actually consider it extravagant, but at the very least, enjoying the frantic reaction from the man beside him would be satisfying.

"I'll take this one."

"As expected, my lord — your eye is impeccable."

The gallery director, greeting a very important client who hadn't visited in some time, glanced nervously at Kloff while echoing his praises. For different reasons, both Aeroc and the director watched Kloff's reaction closely. But he didn't get angry. Far from it—

"A beautiful painting. Looking at it, I feel a kind of peace settling over me."

A perfectly normal reaction — which made it profoundly abnormal. The director looked visibly startled.

"Nothing about what it might be worth, or whether it'll appreciate in value? Nothing like that?"

"Imposing vulgar measures of value onto works of art is hardly proper."

This was where the horror was warranted. Kloff Bendyke just called money a vulgar measure of value! He's completely lost his mind! The director's jaw hung open. Rather than explain, Aeroc began buying indiscriminately.

"I like this one too. And this one. And this one. I'll take everything on this wall."

"Good heavens."

The director, who had been cheerfully recording the orders at first, dropped his pen. The fool's complexion, initially untroubled, began draining by degrees. Aeroc selected only the most expensive pieces and purchased every last painting and sculpture. Once they were all carted off to the manor, the gallery might have to close for a while. One could hardly receive visitors with the walls stripped bare.

"It may not be my money, but that last piece is absolutely not worth that price. Perhaps some restraint—"

"It's not your money, so stay out of it!"

You were a miser who went mad over money. My allowance was a few silver coins at most. The things I had to endure to pry that much out of you. It was a mercy I wasn't in heat at the time — if I had been, keeping up with your stamina while you tried to put twins in me would have broken my back. And yet, one sharp "stay out of it" and he actually fell silent. That only made Aeroc angrier. He ignored even the director's feeble protests — "My lord, this is excessive…"

"The purchase order."

At a single word, the director mopped his brow and rushed to draw it up. With so many items, it took some time. In the meanwhile, Aeroc waited on a sofa in the private lounge reserved for key clients. Kloff sat across from him, staring. Still holding that wretched flower. Take it to your grave, why don't you.

"I didn't realize you were so wealthy."

"Hmph. What about me looks poor to you?"

"That's not what I meant. I simply envy having the means to acquire whatever one desires."

"You've no reason to envy anyone. Flash a cheap smile and people hand you whatever you want. One smile got you a flower — a kiss would have won you the whole basket."

It was a vicious barb. He didn't truly believe Kloff had meant anything by it. His reason told him that much. But his feelings refused to accept it. Over a flower, of all things. A common rose. Nothing compared to the fine roses cultivated at the estate — a shabby little bloom, and yet it was so beautiful it made him jealous. Hideously so.

Kloff seemed slightly wounded. Something sharp surfaced in those dark eyes, then was eclipsed by a wave of shame. Aeroc regretted it immediately.

"…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"It's all right."

He shook his head as if it were nothing and spun the flower by its stem between his sturdy thumb and long index finger. The slightly wilted red bloom fluttered, petals opening wide. Aeroc's gaze locked onto it despite himself.

"I wonder if I've ever bought flowers."

"What?"

"It's a strange feeling — unfamiliar and yet somehow known. A contradictory sort of sensation. I wonder what kind of person I was. Looking at this red flower, someone seems to come to mind."

"Who?"

Aeroc leaned forward, staring hard.

"Someone who comes to mind when you look at a rose?"

"It's not clear, but — plain, thin, a sad sort of smile. Only a hazy impression remains, so I can't say exactly who. A little wilted… like this flower. Perhaps I gave flowers to that person once. Staring at this, I feel as though the memory might surface. Judging by everyone's reactions, I must have had quite an unpleasant temperament — so perhaps it's surprising that I have romantic memories at all. Ha."

He laughed quietly. A door inside Aeroc's chest shattered without warning. Through the gap, a cold snow-wind howled. What if this amnesia was some kind of omen? He had barely managed to push away the cold, aching memories, and now they might return. His rattled heart must have shown, because Kloff looked up.

"Are you in pain again?"

"N-no."

"You've gone pale."

"Just a little tired, that's all."

The director returned just in time with the order form. Aeroc scrawled his signature without looking at it and called for the carriage home. Inside, Kloff watched him the entire ride. Every time the hastily summoned carriage jostled even slightly, he reached out to steady Aeroc — all while still clutching that dying flower in his other hand. Aeroc shrugged off the gentle touch and stared out the window.

"I trust the outing went well, my lord."

Hugo met them at the entrance, opening the carriage door himself. But Aeroc answered only with a curt "Not particularly" and went straight to his room. He sensed Hugo catching Kloff behind him. He had no energy to spare.

In the bedroom, Aeroc placed the gallery receipt in the box Kloff had designated for such things. He lowered the heavy, finely carved wooden lid. A tear dropped onto the back of his hand.

"They do say pregnancy makes you cry at everything."

He rubbed his eyes with his palm. His belly cramped again. The baby had taken offense at being blamed for nothing.

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his belly with both hands. While soothing the sulking child, the tears he couldn't wipe away soaked his face.

He wanted to skip dinner, pleading exhaustion, but Hugo wouldn't allow it. At least Martha was away visiting family, which was a mercy. Or was it a misfortune? He wanted to snap at her, to be petulant with her. Martha might have cured the idiot's idiocy in one blow with a frying pan. But he didn't want to disturb her while she was seeing family for the first time in a while. She'd be back in a few days.

He washed his face, composed his expression, and sat down at the dining table. Kloff sat at the far opposite end. Hugo's petty habit of seating them as far apart as possible — usually a source of complaint — was welcome tonight. Facing him was unbearable. He wanted to eat quickly and quietly and leave.

"If I may, angel."

Kloff addressed him during the meal. When Aeroc looked up, Kloff smiled gently. He was someone who always smiled with brimming confidence, but now — this impossibly tender expression, completely devoid of aggressive possessiveness — it felt as though a vessel burst somewhere inside Aeroc's chest.

He'd seen that look once before. Directed at someone else. Needles pricked his heart, one after another. The hand holding his juice glass trembled.

Yes. If he'd lost his memories… then this was before everything happened. That was the real Kloff.

A distant memory surfaced — one even Aeroc had forgotten.

That effortless self-assurance that drew people in, that gentle strength. He'd never truly been ill-tempered or grasping. He'd become that way because of Aeroc — that much was certain. Even if Kloff himself would never know it. When his memory returned, Aeroc might have to let him go. His chest ached. The skin around his eyes felt as though it were burning black. Mercifully, the tears didn't fall — they evaporated, scalding.

The man who'd been smiling set his teacup down on the table and, as Aeroc sank under the weight of a fresh reckoning, posed his question.

"I've been wanting to ask — what is our relationship?"

The verdict, handed down without warning. He wasn't ready. Where to begin, how to explain — Aeroc had no idea.

You should have been happily in love with someone else. I committed an unspeakable crime against you, your wife, and your unborn child. And I looked the other way. In the end you came back and took your revenge. I met a death befitting my sins. But that was my consolation alone — it did nothing to ease your suffering.

God, taking pity on the wife and child who died without sin, performed a miracle and granted a second chance. But I ruined even that. The person who could have brought you happiness — you and she simply fell apart. Like a stray cat, I seized the opportunity and became an omega. I lured you in, pretending reluctance while you circled closer, and now I'm carrying your child. All because in the life before, you imprinted on me. How shameless can a person be? How far can one go in forgetting one's own disgrace?

Ah — is this a third chance, then? So that poor Kloff can pursue true happiness. So he can be free of a sinner like me.

His eyes burned. The apple juice, half-finished, trembled in the glass. He tried to hold back, but his vision blurred and his chest constricted. The baby whimpered inside him. It hurt. But he couldn't soothe it.

"Why are you crying?"

Kloff rose, alarmed, and came to his side. He knelt on one knee beside Aeroc, who sat with his head bowed, weeping without a word. With careful fingers, Kloff wiped the tears away.

"I don't know what happened, but — did I ask something I shouldn't have?"

Aeroc shook his head.

I don't deserve your concern. I should tell you the truth. Rapiel married someone else not long ago and left. But just because things didn't work out between the two of you doesn't mean I have the right to be at your side. Misfortune keeps finding you. You've lost your memories. This is a chance to start over.

Tears poured so freely he couldn't even see Kloff's face.

"Shh, don't cry. Did I do something wrong?"

That voice — as tender as the one he remembered from long ago, the one that had been meant for someone else. A single "it's all right" from him, and it truly felt as though everything would be all right. The most powerful, most gentle consolation in the world reached deep into the place he'd locked away and stroked the loneliness hidden there.

As Count Teiwind, Aeroc had always been surrounded by people. There were constant social engagements, numerous charitable societies to attend. Invitations arrived unbidden from every quarter, piling up faster than he could sort through them. Everyone who approached had an agenda — patronage, or connection, or both.

Those who cared about Aeroc rather than Count Teiwind were vanishingly few. The rare person who did was usually interested only in his appearance; genuine understanding was elusive. An orphan with no close relations to speak of — at first, he'd managed. He missed his mother terribly. Sometimes he even missed his stern father.

He'd masked the cold emptiness behind a well-mannered smile. He'd striven to uphold the dignity of a count, as his father had strictly taught him. But even in adulthood, Aeroc was nothing more than a child longing for his mother's embrace. And so, when he saw Kloff Bendyke — standing at the very opposite end of loneliness — he'd given in to desire. He'd despised Rapiel for being loved by Kloff. He'd fallen into the delusion that if only Rapiel were gone, he could have Kloff for himself. All he'd learned was that those who know love are the ones truly capable of cruelty.

"Don't cry."

Kloff kept trying to comfort him, unaware that his tenderness only summoned more tears. It hurt. This gentleness wasn't meant for him. There had never been any consolation meant for Count Aeroc Teiwind. And after paying such a terrible price for it, was he still grasping at what was never his to have?

He barely managed to shake his head. He pulled free of Kloff's hand and wiped the tears with his own. Kloff gave a helpless smile.

"Were we close? Close enough that you'd be this upset that I don't remember you?"

Instead of answering, Aeroc pressed his lips shut and forced the tears away. He fought to quiet the crying, to recover his composure. He didn't want to draw this out any longer.

"We're friends, Kloff. You're my accountant and estate manager. I'm your client. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Then why are you crying? Why am I staying in this house and being nursed by an angel?"

"Because you were injured while visiting my home. You or anyone — if someone is hurt under my roof, it's my responsibility to see to them. The tears are because it pains me to see you like this. Nothing more, nothing less."

He tried to sound decisive, but the words came out slightly unsteady, still damp with tears. Kloff furrowed his brow, murmured "Is that so?" — and said nothing more.

He was given a room not far away. It was introduced as a guest room, but in truth it was the one traditionally used by the countess. Hugo, who had initially been pleased to see them in separate beds at last, looked taken aback when Kloff responded with a courteous "Thank you." Before retiring for the night, the butler voiced a rare question.

"Is it truly possible that his condition could be prolonged?"

For the taciturn butler to ask such a thing meant he was deeply worried.

"Honestly, I don't know. We can only hope he recovers soon."

Aeroc added that when Martha returned from her holiday, he'd explain the situation and discuss what to do going forward. It felt as though Martha's arrival would somehow resolve things. Until then, Kloff's affairs were on hold. A letter had already been sent to the Treasury, citing an accident and a brief leave of absence. From various conversations, it seemed Kloff hadn't lost his knowledge entirely — there was hope he might return to work before long.

That night was desperately lonely. The enormous bed had never felt so cold. In his dream, he gave birth to a beautiful puppy. He held it out proudly toward Kloff, who stood watching from not far away.

"It's ours. Isn't it pretty?"

He didn't move. From the massive silhouette cloaked in shadow, only two cold eyes gleamed.

"Kloff?"

"You should just… die… too."

The warm space was shoved away, and the cottage surrounded him on all sides, frigid. Kloff reached out a hand like a reaper's scythe and snatched the puppy away. Then he vanished, leaving Aeroc behind. Alone.

"No — don't go!"

He jolted upright with what was almost a scream. He looked around — his own room. His heart hammered violently. His breath came short. He sat there in a daze, trying to steady himself, but couldn't. His cheeks burned again. Give it a moment. It'll pass. These nightmares aren't new. Just wait a little and it'll settle.

The fright didn't ease quickly. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since he'd had to weather a nightmare alone. Ever since Kloff had moved into the manor, he'd always been there to soothe Aeroc through the rigidity that followed. In a drowsy voice he'd shush and murmur, handling a full-grown man like an infant. One sweep of those large hands down his back and the terror would dissolve as if it had never been.

But Kloff wasn't beside him now. The other side of the bed was cold as ice. Even burrowed under the covers, his body shook like an aspen. If this kept up, the baby might startle awake. For the child's sake, he tried to calm down. He took deep breaths and silently hummed the lullaby he'd been practicing. It was no use. He was too frightened to sleep.

He curled up and shivered for a long while. His hands and feet were so cold he kept rubbing them together, to no avail. To make matters worse, distant thunder growled outside. Rain was coming. He hated it. He had the eerie feeling that if he fell asleep now, he might never wake up. Better to give up on sleep entirely. He'd be scolded later, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt.

He decided to go to the study and read. He put on a dressing gown and, on impulse, took his pillow — the study cushions were never as comfortable. He considered a blanket too, but stopped himself. If he fell asleep there, there'd be trouble. Hugo would raise hell. He didn't want to cause worry.

The corridor was dim, lit only by low-burning sconces. Even his breathing sounded loud. He muffled his footsteps and headed for the study. It was at the end of the hall, and reaching it meant passing Kloff's room. At first he had no intention of stopping. But soon he grew curious about what Kloff was doing. He halted before the heavy, firmly shut door.

Is he sleeping? He must be.

He raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it. He took another step. But he hadn't gone two paces before he turned around and stood before the door again.

Just a quick look. That's all.

The night felt desolate without the lover who had always shared his warmth. He missed Kloff desperately. Even knowing it was improper, he opened the door like a thief and peered inside. But frustratingly, the darkness was too deep to see anything.

I only wanted to see him sleeping peacefully.

He should have turned back. But his heart had gone too far. Aeroc stepped into the room. A nobleman, creeping into an alpha's bedroom in the dead of night. The guilt felt like a teenager sneaking behind his parents' backs. But this was entirely the fault of the person who'd lost his memory in that ridiculous accident. He had no business leaving his pregnant spouse alone.

He felt his way to the bed through the dark. Warmth met his fingertips. He explored gingerly. His eyes adjusted. Kloff lay still. His heart thudded. When he drew closer, he was relieved to find Kloff deeply asleep.

Outside, faint thunder rumbled. The rain was coming. Branches scraped against each other with a sound like ghostly whispers. Fear seized him suddenly. He couldn't face the walk back to the study. He dropped the pillow he'd been carrying and, before he knew it, climbed into the bed.

"Wha—?"

The mattress dipped. The sleeping alpha shot upright in alarm. Aeroc, caught mid-infiltration, froze. He wasn't asleep? No — expecting to go unnoticed in the first place had been the mistake.

"Angel? What brings you here at this hour?"

Once he identified his visitor, Kloff exhaled with relief. He rubbed his eyes and sat up properly. Those dark, questioning eyes met Aeroc's. Words deserted him. In the distance, thunder growled like an animal.

He couldn't say he'd crept in because the night was lonely, and the frustration of being unable to make this person understand his situation swelled inside him. Fear became sorrow. The man before him was Kloff, yet not Kloff. He missed him — missed him while looking right at him. Feeling the tears threaten, Aeroc didn't answer. Instead, he burrowed under the covers. Kloff's bewilderment deepened.

"All of a sudden—"

He curled into a ball and pulled the blankets over himself. He refused to respond no matter how many times Kloff called. Instead, he patted the pillow Kloff had been using — lie down — a signal, and in his own way, a firm declaration that he was not leaving.

Kloff fell silent. He sat up and looked down at Aeroc, ignoring the signal. Then he shifted to the edge of the bed as though he intended to get up and leave. Of course. What alpha would share a bed with another alpha? Aeroc was a pregnant omega, but the idiot who'd lost his memories still seemed to think of him as an alpha. Aeroc's lip jutted out. He looked up sidelong and screamed internally: Don't go. I don't want to sleep alone.

After a moment, Kloff asked quietly.

"You said we were accountant and client?"

It wasn't untrue, so Aeroc nodded. His hair rustled against the pillow. Kloff propped his chin in his hand, silent. The man was hopeless. What accountant lives in a client's manor? And what handsome man sneaks into the bed of a charmless penny-pincher in the middle of the night — unless they're lovers? It was obvious.

But saying so of his own accord was beneath him. It was stubborn, childish sulking. If Kloff had imprinted, then he should remember on his own. Aeroc wanted proof that the love persisted even through the lost memories. He was also afraid of what might surface — what if the bad memories came first? If they did, Aeroc was prepared to let go of everything and set him free. He'd steeled himself for that again and again since this began. Or perhaps he wasn't prepared at all. The mere imagining of letting Kloff go was enough to bring tears.

As the silence deepened, Kloff arrived at his own conclusion. After a brief hesitation, he began to speak, halting. Was that a glint of something illicit in his gaze, or was it imagination? The nature of the hesitation — had he figured it all out? Was this the end? How was one supposed to handle such a sudden ending?

"Is it possible that, to secure the contract, I — well, hmm."

He didn't want to hear another word. He clapped both hands over his ears. He hid his tears in the dark. So this is the end. He had to steel himself. It wasn't easy. Pity for the unborn puppy bloomed like a cloud.

Poor child. I wanted to give you a perfect family. But it seems I don't deserve that. I'm sorry.

Kloff leaned down close and whispered against his ear. The hands over his ears trembled.

"Did I perhaps offer… physical favors?"

Yes, ours was a relationship built on cursed physical fav— Wait. What?

"Ph-physical… what?"

The question came out dumbly. The tears that had been leaking dried up on the spot. What did I just hear? What did he just say?

"Otherwise, there's no reason for you to sneak into my bed in the middle of the night, is there? Someone as angelic as you — what could you possibly want with someone like me?"

The deflated alpha was, uncharacteristically, utterly without confidence. Aeroc's mouth hung open. It wasn't really a question of confidence or the lack of it. How do you hit your head and arrive at that?

"I don't appear to have any special fortune. I'm not particularly handsome. My employment situation is unclear. I'm not sure I even have parents. I seem to have studied something, but I'm fairly certain I'm nowhere near a title of nobility. In a word, I look like a layabout — so for someone as noble as you to do something like this — I may not be an omega, but, well, that seems to be the only explanation."

Kloff Bendyke, saying something that pitiful? Finding that rain-soaked-puppy self-deprecation in him, of all people — a man who could be dropped in a desert without water and would build himself a fountain for entertainment — he looked so fragile. As if he might simply crumple. There was no time to process the shock. Before Aeroc knew it, he was shouting at the top of his voice.

"You may not have f-fortune, but when it comes to making money you're more ruthless than a demon! You may not be outstandingly handsome, but that weapon-grade — thing — of yours has made people pass out cold! Employment? You marched in and created the position yourself! Your parents may be gone, but despite that atrocious temper you've got a terrifyingly powerful elder brother you've never once beaten — a revelation that sent everyone around you into a panic! And that's not all! With one lousy honors diploma you've been running circles around me — Count Teiwind, whom not even the crown dares cross! Why — why are you doing this? Losing your memories doesn't mean you have to lose yourself!"

He clung to Kloff in desperation. Those uncomprehending eyes terrified him. He'd believed nothing could be worse than letting Kloff go. He'd been wrong. Nothing — nothing — could be more painful than being erased entirely from Kloff Bendyke's memory. Hate me, resent me. Not love, not friendship, not any kind of goodwill — I don't care. Just remember that Aeroc Teiwind meant something to you. His chest burned. As though his stomach were on fire.

Kloff, oblivious, added an awkward laugh.

"Is that so? Ha — I can't tell if that's an insult or a compliment, but it's oddly encouraging. Still, I can't fathom why you'd be this intimate with me. You're far too good for the likes of me."

Aeroc hadn't meant to force anything. He felt pathetic for tacking on selfish justifications. The one truly suffering from the memory loss was Kloff. He was no different from a helpless child hurled into the world without warning. To have lost his temper at such a person — Aeroc should have been sheltering him instead.

The doctor had warned against forcing the memories back. But now was not the time for caution.

"Kloff."

He took Kloff's hand and placed it on his belly. He pressed their layered hands against the plump, rounded swell. Kloff flinched violently. The way he glanced about, unsure of himself — it was heartbreaking. Aeroc's eyes burned.

"Can you feel it? Our puppy is right here. Your child. A child made from love. At least… that's what I believe."

Even to his own ears, it wasn't convincing. Suddenly making someone grope your belly and announcing a pregnancy — who would believe it? Even so, he believed this was the best he could do. According to the doctor, the memories hadn't vanished — they were stalled somewhere. A small trigger could set them free. He prayed that the puppy — no one and nothing else — would be that key. Just as this child, lovable by the mere fact of existing, had become Aeroc's compass for navigating the world, he hoped it would hold the same significance for Kloff.

Predictably, Kloff went white. His mouth wouldn't close. Eyes round, he touched the swell of the belly again and again.

"How can an alpha be pregnant? Wait — it's mine?"

"Yes."

He owed a full explanation to the man who'd lost everything. But swallowing tears and speaking logically at the same time was no easy feat. The words came out in broken fragments instead.

"After I met you — I was an alpha, but — Kloff… meeting you… changed me. Everything changed."

It was because Aeroc had met Kloff and fallen for him that everything had warped. How many nightmarish years had it taken to undo that damage? Explaining it all had been impossible from the start. Unearthing even one layer of those stacked memories would take an entire day.

His agitation found no relief. Moisture was just beginning to skim his burning eyes when Kloff whispered, conspiratorial and hushed.

"…Was I, by any chance… a scoundrel?"

*

"A… scoundrel?"

The plaintive expression warped subtly. Somewhere between unable to admit it and unable to deny it. Hmm. Perhaps not my wisest answer.

He'd been calling the man "angel," but he'd known the name for a while now. A wealthy aristocratic count with this many servants was rare to begin with, and simply keeping his ears open around the household had supplied the name and basic particulars in short order.

Aeroc Teiwind.

The Count Teiwind. An unmarried alpha.

Personal memories might be gone, but knowledge itself hadn't vanished. He'd rummaged through what little remained. There should have been no connection between them at all. Naturally, questions arose. He began to observe with intent.

Before long, he sensed their relationship might run deeper than advertised. At the gallery, when the count had been buying art hand over fist, he'd glanced at Kloff before signing the order. The longing to possess the rose in another alpha's hand had been palpable even from where Kloff stood.

An alpha wanting the rose in another alpha's hand? No matter how he considered it, this was no simple arrangement. And subsequent observations confirmed that it was no mistake. The subtle way the count watched him, his turns of phrase. The suffocating sexual tension that formed whenever they crossed into each other's personal space. The count's behavior was far too intimate. Even trying to ignore it, his attention was pulled in one direction.

He'd kept such thoughts to himself. There was always the chance it was entirely baseless. He didn't want to create awkwardness and ruin the atmosphere. But as the days passed, the imagined possibility grew steadily more solid.

If his pre-amnesia self hadn't been a completely different person, he would certainly have been attracted to Aeroc Teiwind's remarkable beauty. Alpha or not, the count possessed what Kloff instinctively considered ideal — long, slender limbs, straight shoulders, a face that appeared slightly haughty yet simultaneously delicate, and the golden hair that completed the aristocratic picture.

Beyond that, the count had a fascinating mind. Kloff had understood barely half of the conversation between the count and the gallery director. This confirmed both his own indifference to art and the count's expertise — a depth of knowledge that humbled even the professional director. For what was called a "gentlemanly pursuit," this wasn't unusual. What was impressive was that someone so young possessed deeper mastery than a middle-aged man who made his living in the field.

The count didn't go out much. Perhaps because of Kloff's presence, he spent most of his time at home. He rose at regular hours and dressed immaculately even without plans to leave. Meals were taken in the dining room; tea, whenever possible, in the study. When Kloff was invited to one of the count's understated yet elegant private tea services, he discovered that literature interested the man far more than art.

—There's no reason to keep unread books in one's study.

With no memories, no obligations, and an idle need to test how far the damage to his brain extended, Kloff had been browsing the shelves. The count, hearing only a title, would summarize the book's contents on the spot. He could do this with any volume chosen at random, without hesitation. When Kloff expressed surprise, that had been the reply. What sort of person was this — beautiful, wealthy, and a genius on top of it — and what was their relationship? The mystery only deepened.

While Kloff was lost in thought, the count approached and took the heavy book from his hands, sliding it back onto the shelf.

—Don't overdo it. I want your memory back as much as you do, but pushing too hard could make things worse.

And then, with a touch so natural it seemed unconscious, the count ran a soft hand down Kloff's upper arm. He didn't even notice he'd done it — just gave a quiet smile. This, between an accountant and a client? Amnesia hadn't made him stupid. The truth would surface eventually, whether through returning memories or some other channel. Perhaps one day the count would shove him against a wall, press those burning lips to his, declare he couldn't hold back any longer, and start undoing buttons. A squalid fantasy, admittedly, but he couldn't deny it was a rather pleasing one.

He'd been so innocent then, imagining nothing more than stolen moments of secret courtship. He could never have predicted the count's headfirst dive into his bed with no warning whatsoever. Well — even that he could force himself to accept, shocking as it was. He'd simply rushed the pace a bit. If an alpha was as captivating as the count, then any reluctance was something to overcome immediately.

But then — what? Something was inside that flat belly? A puppy? Inside a human being's — specifically, inside the belly of a count whose alpha status was officially recognized through aristocratic succession — a puppy, and he, Kloff Bendyke, had put it there?

Perhaps the blow to his head had killed him and he was in the afterlife. This was God's dream, shown to a man on his deathbed. It appeared Kloff Bendyke had tried to live a reasonably decent life but failed to meet the divine standard. That would explain why the dream was this absurd.

While he sat there dumbly, conducting an emergency moral review of who he might have been, the count continued in a deeply bitter tone. He said he'd been an alpha, but meeting Kloff had changed that. God had clearly issued a curse. Wait — was this a curse? Less a curse than a ferocious blessing, really. Whichever way you looked at it, a man who'd impregnated a perfectly functional alpha had accomplished something staggering.

"…Was I, by any chance… a scoundrel?"

The expression that had warped subtly a moment ago settled into something bleak. The angelic count looked disappointed. He'd been hoping for— ah. He'd been hoping the memories would return. Despite being a grown alpha, the man sometimes showed a guilelessness that was almost childlike — and right now he looked a little forlorn. True or not, he'd confessed to carrying another alpha's child. He must have loved deeply, this count. And he missed Kloff Bendyke desperately. The person sitting before him was the angel's lover and yet not his lover. Something pressed down hard inside his chest.

"You're — Kloff is not a scoundrel. I'll admit your temper is foul. I suppose you can be called a scoundrel if you must. But that isn't your true nature. You're considerate and deeply caring. You're terribly jealous, yes, but only because you love me that much. The violence — that I do think must be corrected."

"I'm violent? Toward you? That's unconscionable. In that case, perhaps it's far better that the memories don't return."

Perhaps that would even lighten the heavy stone lodged in his chest. To envy a version of himself he didn't know — that was an emotion difficult to bear.

"No — that's not what I meant at all."

The angel added hastily, shaking his head vigorously. He reached out and gripped Kloff's arm. In the dark, he leaned close to meet Kloff's eyes. His breath touched Kloff's cheek. This is getting dangerous.

"It couldn't be helped. It was an aftereffect — because of me. And he's being treated for it now. He's found stability, and as long as I'm with him, there are no problems. So don't misunderstand. It isn't your fault."

"Of course, I have no memories, so I don't feel it as my fault, nor do I feel guilt. But the previous me didn't — force you into anything, did he? Because if he did, I could never forgive that other version of myself."

He'd tried to offer reassurance, but it had backfired. Even in the dark, the angel's blue eyes were beginning to glisten.

"I… I made him that way. Every fault lies with me. So don't blame yourself."

"Perhaps you did set things in motion. But in the end, it was Kloff who committed the sin."

Someone this captivating — his only possible crime was catching the eye of a bad-tempered alpha. The ill-tempered scoundrel would have taken one look and acted on impulse. The old habit lingered even now. The mere brush of the angel's gentle hand had him starting to stiffen. Good lord. Am I really a scoundrel?

"……"

The angel couldn't continue. Instead he stared for a long time, eyes swimming with sorrow. The pooled tears were on the verge of spilling. Making him cry hadn't been the intention. The man had lost his lover — well, the lover was alive, but lost all the same — and there'd been no need to berate him. Regret came belatedly. He said I'm terribly jealous, and apparently it's true. I shouldn't have condemned a person I don't even know. I could simply have listened.

The grip on his arm slackened. The angel straightened. The bed, warm just moments ago, cooled at once. The lonely look in those eyes weighed on him.

"So what brought you here at this hour?"

Just then, the rain that had been falling steadily turned into a downpour. Fat drops battered the sealed windows. The angel's shoulders drooped in the darkness like a drenched kitten.

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd read in the study."

"And then?"

"The study is past this room."

"So you came in to check whether I was sleeping soundly?"

The angel nodded quietly. A generous interpretation, given the unfamiliar pillow perched on the bed.

"As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

He was about to add, so please go and get some rest — when the angel fixed him with a look of near despair. With a brief sigh, the angel murmured, "Sorry for disturbing you," and turned away. His shoulders trembled faintly. He made as if to get off the bed, yet didn't actually leave. The turned back pleaded with an eloquence no words could match. The precise intent was unclear, but it worked without question. Of course it worked. Even if it hadn't, he would have made it work.

"Ah — my head, suddenly—"

"Are you all right?!"

The angel was at his side in an instant, pressing a palm to his forehead. Cool and soft. It felt wonderful.

"A fever? Are you dizzy? Should I call the doctor? No — I should call him right now—"

He caught the angel before the man could bolt.

"No, really. Just a slight throb. Nothing to worry about."

"The brain is a delicate organ. No symptom should be dismissed lightly."

"I'm fine. Truly. Your touch cured it."

What kind of childish excuse was that? He added a sheepish grin. Surprisingly, the angel considered this, then nodded.

"Perhaps it is because of that. Contact time has been reduced lately."

Muttering to himself, the angel came to a decision. With a resolute air, he rearranged the bedding — moved the pillow to the foot of the bed, pushed Kloff down, then slid an arm free, nestled his head on Kloff's shoulder, and settled against him with perfect entitlement. This was bewildering. Not unwelcome, mind, but the pace was dizzying. The pregnancy announcement was one thing, but — alpha through and through. Nothing if not bold.

"I'm sleeping here tonight."

More precisely, on top of me, understood. A certain stiffness made him slow to respond. In the interim, the angel communicated — via a hand that closed firmly over Kloff's shirtfront — that refusal was not an option. He relaxed, and the natural, draped weight of the angel's arm settled against him.

After some squirming into a comfortable position, the angel breathed evenly. He couldn't have fallen asleep yet, but in the wordless quiet, those soft breaths made the stillness feel precious. Kloff wiggled the trapped hand free and stroked the silk-covered back. He patted the angel who clung to him so naturally.

He'd assumed the man was an alpha, but the body pressed against his was far softer than expected. On closer inspection, those fine eyes and that jawline might read as alpha at a glance, but could pass for omega without much stretch — simply a slightly masculine omega. The belly against his side was as plush as fresh-baked bread. Barely any fat on his limbs, yet the stomach was round. Pregnant — could it really be true? If so, then he was the enormous idiot who'd lost his memory while his pregnant lover waited. How lonely the angel must have been, to finally creep into his bed at night.

He'd faked a headache to keep the man here, but the one who truly needed to be held was the angel. Perfectly still, clinging without a gap between them. Impossibly endearing. How did you ever win this person over, you amnesiac scoundrel?

The distant rain began to ease. The air was cool, but inside the bed it wasn't. The one who'd claimed the embrace and the one who'd offered it both felt the warmth. It was a peaceful night.

Morning light flooded the room. The brightness woke him quickly. He rubbed one eye — and realized the other arm had gone numb. He turned his head. A gold more dazzling than sunlight filled his vision.

Ah — he'd slept with the angel.

The man lay fast asleep in his arms. Dried tear tracks streaked his cheeks, left from crying in his sleep — slightly untidy, and unbearably dear. Even if they truly were strangers, he'd been planning to court the man at a measured pace. Instead they'd gone from zero to sharing a bed in one night. A beauty who takes the initiative, no less. Life could scarcely be better.

They were facing each other, and his hand rested naturally on the angel's waist. He traced downward with care. The angel claimed a baby was in here. Whether an alpha could possibly be pregnant, whether the man was even truly an alpha — doubts crowded in. And yet he didn't doubt the pregnancy itself. Even if it were a lie, he wanted to believe it was true. At the same time, he felt keenly the loss of memories he'd never had — of the courtship, the falling in love. It must have been joyful, happy. I hope it surfaces soon.

In truth, he wouldn't mind if the memories never returned. Better the man he was now — capable only of cherishing this impossibly lovable person — than some ill-tempered scoundrel. Besides, even without memories, he was young. There was time enough to make new ones.

He was a little worried about returning to the accountancy work. With a baby on the way, a father had responsibilities — a spouse and child to provide for. Then again, if he managed the count's fortune properly, that alone would be more than — no. He stopped there. It was beginning to sound like a con man sweet-talking a lonely widow. But the angel's spending habits would need correcting. At that rate, they'd be thrown out of this manor and onto the streets before the baby arrived. Their situation was already precarious enough with a child coming and nothing to his name. Better to establish a rule: major purchases to be discussed first.

He rubbed a thumb across the pale cheek. He didn't want to wake the angel, but the man was too adorable to leave alone.

"Mmh."

The ticklish touch drew a drowsy whine, and the angel burrowed closer. Kloff held him tight. Whatever dream the angel was having, his face scrunched with unease, and the fingers resting neatly on the pillow trembled. Kloff took that hand and squeezed. The faint whimpering eased; the lashes fluttered. A moment later, a tear rolled down the bridge of the angel's nose.

"I'm sorry. I love you."

A faint confession slipped from murmuring lips. He didn't know what the apology was for. But he was sure of who it was directed at — the version of himself before the memories vanished. What kind of history prompts love and apology in the same breath? It ached. And in equal measure, he was jealous. An absurd psychology, but what could he do about what he felt?

He didn't resist. He pressed a light kiss to the quivering lips. Lovers or not, it was unambiguously a stolen kiss. A small guilt and a covert desire surged together, thrilling through his chest. The living pulse of it felt good. He stole a few more. Light at first, then deeper. The soft sound of lips meeting and parting. Still the angel didn't wake. He grew bolder. His tongue parted those lips, pushing deeper. The angel, face etched with fragile sorrow, offered no resistance and accepted the kiss.

Even at that depth, the angel merely sniffled in his sleep instead of waking. His breath came short, small gasps escaping through his nose. Impossibly lovely. Kloff pulled him close and stroked him again. He could have stayed like this for hours.

During the kissing, vigorous young blood had migrated decisively. No amount of brazenness could justify what that impulse was suggesting — it would be an outright crime. He held himself in check. Instead, he ran his hands along the smooth back, the waist, and the taut curve of the hip. Each one filled his palm. He took his time, absorbing the sensation.

"Hah."

A sigh escaped on its own. Sordid fantasies bloomed, thick as thunderclouds. Count Teiwind — that lofty, unapproachable, ice-cold gaze — legs parted, taking an alpha between those firm hips, moving lewdly—

His body, already robustly healthy, was conducting the morning's business with enthusiasm. The fantasy was a bomb lobbed straight into it. Groping a sleeping person without permission while getting hard — if this wasn't deviant, what was? The urge to indulge further warred with a fervent wish that the angel would open his eyes and liberate him from this ungodly desire.

Could I go further? No — doing this to a sleeping person was vile. But we're lovers. A lover bold enough to climb into bed first. If he made that move, the least I can do is offer to undress him.

"Mm."

The scheming leaked out as a groan. Contrary to the fierce internal debate, his hands had slipped their leash and were moving of their own accord. Without a shred of hesitation, his fingers found the drawstring of the thin silk sleep trousers and tugged. The silk gave way with a whisper. He traced the border where back became waist. Before long, his hand began exploring further — curves that were neither quite alpha nor quite omega, flowing from hip to thigh.

How did we make love? Gently and tenderly? Or passionately and desperately? Or both. Both was best. Start gentle, then fierce. Then once more — so tender everything melted.

Once conscience was discarded, the hands moved without restraint. He gripped the hip, explored the thigh, breathed in the scent of the hair against his nose. His lips traced the bridge of the angel's nose, then found the mouth again. During the kiss, the previously unresponsive tongue twitched. Now that he noticed, the angel's breathing had quickened. He lifted his head. The lashes were trembling.

"Are you awake?"

No answer. He slid the hand that had been exploring the surface between the thighs. If we're the couple who made a baby, surely this much is— The angel, who'd been feigning sleep, flinched. White fingers gripped the pillowcase.

"I know you're awake."

He pressed boldly against the intimate place with the back of his hand. The angel released a damp sigh and finally opened his eyes.

"Doing that to a sleeping person — what kind of…"

The reproach was ragged, voice cracking.

"No one's sleeping now."

He grinned and continued with light kisses. Once their lips met, the angel didn't resist. Positions shifted naturally. Kloff leaned over him, deepening the kiss, and was about to press their bodies together when a knee drove up sharply into his solar plexus.

"Ow — what was that for? I'm a patient, you know."

"And I'm pregnant. With your illegitimate child, no less. Where do you think you're putting that bear of a body — right on top of my belly?"

"Ah."

The belly wasn't showing enough yet to register automatically. He shifted carefully to one side. He drew the pushed-back sheet over the indignant angel, tucking it in with particular attention to conceal everything below the disheveled waist.

"I'm sorry. I forgot."

He apologized to the irritated angel, kissed his forehead, and pulled away. The disappointment was considerable. But there was nothing to be done about a pregnant person. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Deep breaths — the objective was to kill the half-engorged situation at his center. Getting up would be smarter than lying here, but the desire to stay close, even for a moment longer, won out. Breathe. Mentally recite a treatise on morality. It'll subside. He was still working on it when an aggrieved voice came from beside him.

"What are you doing?"

"It's the middle of the night. We should sleep."

"It's morning. You wake someone up with your filthy hands and then—"

"Close your eyes. Sleep will come."

"Worthless wretch."

The incongruous profanity startled him. The angel huffed and rolled over. Kloff expected him to retreat to the far side of the bed. Or leave altogether. Instead, the angel rolled toward him, closing the gap. Without looking back, he wriggled until his back was flush against Kloff's side.

"What are you—"

"Sleep, you idiot."

The back was pressed tight against him, and the dangerously exposed curve of his backside — the robe having ridden up — ground against Kloff's groin. And you want me to sleep? An arm shot out to lock around the angel's waist. He pressed his chest to the taut back. The angel's body fit as though made for this. He buried his face in the soft nape and inhaled. Clean, and underneath that — a sweetness. Hunger stirred. He wanted to devour him. Oblivious to the state of the man behind him, the angel couldn't keep his neatly folded legs still — they shifted and rustled, and each movement ground hip against groin. Heat licked at the alpha.

"How am I supposed to hold back when you—"

"Your fault."

"…Is it, ah, possible — for a pregnant person?"

"I'm pregnant, not broken. There's nothing wrong with that department. You seem to have been struck impotent as punishment for impregnating a perfectly healthy alpha — hmph."

"Imp— setting that aside, what about the belly?"

He was desperate to answer the bold invitation on the spot. But he confirmed one final time. Instinct told him that if he had to stop partway through, it was better not to begin at all.

"As long as nothing heavy is put on top of it, the doctor said it's fine."

The clipped, needling tone was adorable. Nothing heavy on top. Then — like this.

He rolled onto his back and pulled the sulking angel onto his hips. The sudden rearrangement left the angel flailing briefly. Scowling, he protested—

"What kind of brutish—"

But didn't climb off. After a moment of adjustment, the angel found a comfortable position. Straddling, he rolled his hips, grinding slowly against the alpha's rigid center. Good lord. Not as innocent as he looked, apparently. Then again — that's how the scoundrel's baby got made.

"Are you really sure this is all right?"

"I waited five months until the stable period. Just when we were finally going to — you went and got yourself hurt. I expect you to take responsibility."

"Gladly."

He caught the angel's chin and kissed him. The angel swept the falling gold hair back from his face and gave himself over to the kiss. Then — neither leading, both urgent — they tore at each other's clothes. Burning skin met burning skin, and they threw themselves into one another.

*

Looking up at him from below was an intensely erotic sight. That delicate face — which looked as though it had never known a moment's lust — scrunched from time to time. The angel matched his movements, rolling his hips. The inside of his body was searing hot and contracted powerfully. But it wasn't enough. The urge to flip their positions and take him roughly clawed at him.

He held himself back by fixing his gaze on the soft mound that had appeared on an otherwise lean body — the lower belly. The thought that another life existed inside it was genuinely awe-inspiring. What kind of child would it be? He found himself hoping for a golden-haired, adorable little girl. Sitting her beside the angel would make quite the picture. Anything but an alpha who takes after me.

"Ahh… hh."

The angel had been biting his lip and moving, but he seemed spent — he braced both hands on Kloff's chest and panted.

"St… stop… enough already."

He meant finish already. But it wasn't Kloff's fault that this tepid pace couldn't bring him to climax. The angel, who had already peaked twice, looked too exhausted to move. So Kloff sat up and wrapped both arms around the slender waist. Face to face, he took over, driving upward with force.

"Ah! Ngh… hnn."

"Just a little more."

"B-but… it's been… so long… I can't… properly…"

The passage — so pristine it might have been untouched — had been impossibly tight from the first moment of entry. Fortunate that the body was mature; otherwise there might have been injury. When the angle shifted, the angel lost the rhythm. His flushed face was wet. Just a little deeper— A stray thought broke his timing, and he thrust harder than intended, colliding with the angel's pace.

"Hk—!"

Something deep inside caught against the tip — the cervix. Instinct told him what it was. During pregnancy, disturbing the firmly sealed entrance was extremely dangerous — it risked premature labor. But the moment he touched it, the angel's eyes flew wide, his head snapped back, and he shuddered violently. The interior clenched with devastating force, and Kloff nearly lost consciousness.

"Ah… ah."

He caught the convulsing body before it fell backward. Carefully, he eased the angel onto his back and pushed in twice more — gentler than before. The swollen heat grazed the sensitive place inside. The angel's member spilled clear fluid.

"Nn…"

Unable even to cry out properly, the angel went rigid, trembling — and inside that clenching heat, Kloff reached a white-hot climax of his own. For several seconds his mind blanked, then blinked back. The angel groped blindly, as though his vision had gone.

"Kloff. My alpha."

"I'm here."

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Aeroc."

He'd thought it was simply a lover's plea in the afterglow. He answered with a small smile — and that was when it happened.

The hollowness he hadn't been able to name — it struck all at once, a sensation so intense it was nearly unbearable. As if something had slammed into the empty space inside him, and with it, something precious he'd forgotten came flooding back.

Aeroc Teiwind.

My Aeroc.

My imprint.

That he had forgotten this was beyond belief. Every hair on his body stood on end. A shiver raced from scalp to soles, and the memories poured in all at once.

The first meeting with his beloved. The days of compounding misunderstandings. The time spent searching for him. The moment they finally became one. How could he have forgotten?

When the shock receded, elation crashed in to fill its place. He was profoundly grateful that a creature this beautiful existed at his side. He wanted to sing every saccharine love song ever written. He remembered — the tearful face of the lover who'd been left behind by the staggeringly stupid alpha who'd forgotten his pregnant partner.

He stroked the slightly swollen belly and kissed the sweat-dampened temple. Those deep blue eyes creased. The sight of Aeroc — still joined, carrying their puppy, limbs languid and splayed — was more alluring than ever. Even having just finished, the blood rallied immediately. Naturally.

"Mmh."

Aeroc didn't seem to mind. He only looked slightly strained, but he didn't push Kloff away. Kloff gathered him up carefully and settled him face-to-face on his lap again. The spent lover gripped both shoulders and rested his head against one of them. The unguarded weight of him only made Kloff harder.

"Again?"

"Not nearly done."

"I'm fine, but the puppy—"

He trailed off. Kloff grinned.

"Any child of mine can handle this much."

"Hm?"

Something in the phrasing caught Aeroc's attention. He lifted his head sharply from the shoulder. Brow furrowed, he studied Kloff's face. Then — "Ah" — the realization broke across him.

"Kloff?"

"What?"

"Is it really you?"

"Is there a fake one running around?"

"That's not what I — ah — don't move so suddenly—"

He stopped the questions with a kiss. And moved.

Five months of abstinence had been nearly unbearable. Three months was normally sufficient, but the doctor had advised waiting until five because Aeroc's womb wasn't fully mature. The patience required had been agonizing. He'd trailed after the doctor at every checkup, asking when — when — it would be safe. For the wellbeing of his lover and child, of course. But Aeroc, the doctor, Hugo, Martha, and Kloff himself all knew that wasn't the only reason.

A few days ago, the doctor had finally given permission. After examination after examination, he'd said it was possible within reason.

"Truly?"

"Yes. But let the count set the pace, not yourself. Left to your own devices, Viscount, the count's body won't survive it."

The mortifying warning hadn't even registered. Only two words echoed: it's fine.

But that wasn't the only obstacle.

"The count needs his rest."

The razor-eyed butler refused to give them a single opening. He enforced the separate-bedrooms rule with military precision, even at night. The doctor cleared us — why is the butler staging an intervention? But even Martha had taken the butler's side — "His body is still fragile, let's give it a few more days" — and Kloff had nearly lost his mind. Why are this many people involved in two consenting adults' bedroom affairs? He had to scheme. Simply to spend one heated night with his lover.

"Martha. Didn't you say a distant cousin got married recently? You should visit."

"What? I barely know the child."

"Family is family. I've prepared a generous gift. Take the opportunity to visit your hometown. Once the baby comes, you won't be able to travel for a while."

"Ohoho. That's true, isn't it? Then I'll happily accept."

Martha: eliminated. After seeing her off, Kloff exchanged a look with Aeroc. Aeroc met his gaze with cool composure, then called in the bustling Hugo.

"I'm curious whether the baby's crib is being built to specification. Would you go check on it this afternoon?"

"Haven't you and Viscount Bendyke always handled the baby preparations together?"

"We have, but the crib suddenly came to mind. Kloff has an urgent meeting at the capital office. And I'm too exhausted from the checkup to go out."

"Then I'll see to it and report back."

That's my Aeroc. Masterfully dispatched the old man. A few days' absence would have been ideal, but even half a day would do. Three rounds should be manageable.

Kloff left the manor under the pretense of going to the capital. He watched the estate from nearby, and the instant Hugo's carriage departed, he doubled back. He ran at full tilt, thinking of Aeroc already half-undressed in the bedroom. He took the stairs three at a time. The marble corridor felt as long as a continental expedition that day. His heart was racing. He ignored the maid shouting behind him.

"Viscount — not that way!"

Slip.

CRASH.

Hugo, on his way out, had ordered the maids to soap-wash the marble corridor. The last thing Kloff saw before the lights went out was the manor ceiling spinning overhead.

"We've already gone three times and you want more?"

"Are you tired?"

"Not exactly, but."

"The puppy?"

"Seems fine."

"Then hang in there."

"But."

"Should I stop?"

When he asked, Aeroc gave him a sidelong glance — not entirely averse — and inched closer.

"I thought your memory was gone forever."

He held the man tight as he clung like a child.

"Were you worried?"

"Mm."

The nod was so endearing that Kloff laughed despite himself and kissed him again. Aeroc, apparently displeased, smacked his shoulder.

"That's what you get for falling on your face like an idiot."

"It was Hugo's trap. Who schedules an unplanned soap-wash right in front of the corridor leading to your room?"

He grumbled as he laid Aeroc on his side.

"You really couldn't remember anything?"

"No."

He grinned wickedly and ran his hands over the lover's body. His fingers circled one stiffened nipple, and Aeroc let out a prim little hum through his nose.

"Honestly, you not remembering was almost better."

"Why?"

"You were a person with manners. With common sense."

"My apologies for being a rude beast."

He pressed close without giving an inch. He wrapped both arms around that waist as though he'd break it, and whispered, "I nearly died without you." He bit and sucked at the nape; Aeroc glanced back over his shoulder, flushing, then quickly looked away again. He was always shy when Kloff bared his desire so openly — despite being the one who lost himself entirely once things were underway. Aeroc's feeble resistance — pulling away to test whether he'd be chased — collapsed at a single touch, and they became one again.

"You forgot me."

"You must have been so hurt."

He stroked Aeroc knowingly, and immediately those lashes trembled and a sniffle followed. The man suffered from severe attachment anxiety and a habit of catastrophic thinking — what nightmares must the past few days have conjured? He must have been shaking with dread.

If Aeroc was too frightened to sleep alone and had come running, the nightmares must have been terrible. Kloff intended to pour love into him until he was too spent to stay awake — until no room remained for fear. No matter what Aeroc did, no matter what happened. He had sworn to love him with everything he had.

*

When the count sent word that he was feeling languid and would sleep through the afternoon, Hugo — realizing he'd been outmaneuvered the night before — shook with barely contained fury. Kloff savored his victory in high spirits and prepared to leave for the office. He was just stepping through the front entrance when a flood of workers and enormous wrapped parcels began streaming in, leaving him bewildered.

"What is all this?"

His jaw dropped at the sheer volume of goods filling the grand hall. Hugo, smirking, held out an envelope. Kloff snatched it with trembling hands, tore it open, and—

"AEROC TEIWIND! YOU GODDAMN COUNT! YOU BLEW THROUGH AN ENTIRE YEAR'S ESTATE INCOME IN A SINGLE DAY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

The deliveries had blocked the staircase so thoroughly he couldn't even charge upstairs to confront his wretched lover.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have lost your memory, sir."

The shell-shocked Kloff could only scream silently at the butler's barb.

P.S.

The angel who had committed the crime of losing all financial sense was scolded to tears by the enraged demon king. Every item was returned — though a few pieces the angel desperately wanted to keep were retained, reportedly after the demon king was subjected to various illicit forms of physical lobbying.

"This scoundrel! Your memory not coming back was far better after all!"