Lucian was staring at him so intently it was suffocating — Eugene had the distinct sense that if he smiled back without thinking, something momentous would happen.
Watching Eugene remain pointedly cool, as though entirely uninterested in him, Lucian felt a slow curl of competitive spirit and mischief begin to rise. Lucian knew better than anyone that he was exceptional, and he was a man who knew exactly how to savour that exceptionalism and put it to use. Without much effort at all, anyone was easy. Which was precisely why Eugene’s reaction struck him as rather refreshingly novel.
Quite the face to match, they say.
Had Eugene heard that, he might have wondered who exactly was saying it about whom. Lucian made a quiet sound of amusement as he watched Eugene, who still hadn’t given him so much as a single smile. The urge rose in him to watch that composed face finally crack — to see it fail to hold back laughter, or at the very least to see it twist. With his mischievous streak now fully engaged, Lucian made himself even more shameless and slippery than usual.
“Let’s begin, shall we, with the part where you said my beard and sideburns are tremendously masculine, wild in their appeal, and suit me perfectly.”
The corner of Eugene’s eye twitched — just barely.
I never said any of that.
He’d very nearly blurted it out and let his face crumple entirely, but he swallowed it back without letting it show. However exceptional the man was, hearing him say something like that about himself was a little off-putting. And yet, infuriatingly, it was an appearance that somehow made even that work. The corner of his mouth curled up just slightly — irritating, but undeniably attractive. And more than a little insufferable, on top of all that.
“As Your Grace says. In truth, Your Grace is so far beyond reproach that there is nothing to fault — but as you can see, my brother here falls somewhat short in a number of respects.”
Lucian raised the hand he’d been propping his chin on to cover his mouth. He found Eugene enormously entertaining — all that flat, uninterested expression, and yet his tongue curling around such pretty, convincing words all the same. Lucian tilted his head in a silent keep going sort of gesture, and Eugene obliged.
“One cannot simply imitate Your Grace and expect to achieve the same result. Could my brother dare even aspire to reach the vicinity of your feet?”
His words were one thing, but Eugene’s expression remained utterly frigid — not a shred of sincerity to be found. In truth, Eugene wanted nothing more than to drop all the flattery and just say it plainly. But he had to remember: he wasn’t Park Yujin right now, he was Eugene Primrose.
The Primrose recluse — the one who’d kept his distance from other nobles, regarded them with a measure of disdain, and come across as a touch insufferable. The real Eugene would never have exchanged a single word with Lucian in the first place, but Eugene was in the middle of fighting to survive here — surely that counted for something.
Eugene reached over and drew Ivan in closer beside him, taking hold of his brother’s fluffy sideburns. It was a rather peculiar thing to do, but Lucian found that even this read as elegant, owing entirely to Eugene’s natural bearing. Slouched sideways with his chin propped on one hand, Lucian looked less like the nobleman in the room than Eugene Primrose did — Eugene carried himself like someone of far higher rank.
“My brother, as you can see, is certainly abundant — but the longer the length, the more difficult it becomes to keep properly groomed. As he ought to present himself neatly to the ladies if he hopes to make a favourable impression, I advised that he tidy everything up overall.”
“And?”
“He wished so dearly to…. emulate Your Grace’s masculine appeal, that he refused most vehemently, and we had something of a disagreement.”
A laugh slipped through the gap between the hand covering his mouth. He’d wondered, at first glance, how Kyle and Ivan could possibly have such a fine-featured, delicate beauty of a younger brother — but standing side by side now, he could see they were quite alike. Simply watching Eugene speak was already a feast for the eyes, and that alone left Lucian deeply satisfied. It felt not unlike admiring a great work of art, and in that pleasant mood, he thought he could genuinely listen to Eugene talk for the rest of the day.
As though he’d sensed precisely that thought, Basil kept shooting pointed looks his way. The Queen Mother — Lucian’s mother — had been waiting for him at the palace since early that morning. Between walking into that suffocating court and enduring his mother’s lectures, and sitting here watching Eugene Primrose chatter on so prettily — if forced to choose between the two, the latter won without contest.
Wanting to torment Basil a little more, and wanting just as badly to see a crack form in Eugene Primrose’s haughty composure, Lucian made a deliberately vulgar remark.
“In plain terms — you told him to shave that mess off his face, and he acted as though you’d asked him to cut off his cock.”
“Pardon? Yes.”
That one landed. Eugene quickly composed his expression and answered as though he hadn’t been caught off guard at all — but he couldn’t stop Lucian’s eyes from crinkling at the corners. With his hand still raised to cover his mouth, the way his bright hazel eyes laughed became all the more vivid. Eugene wasn’t the only one caught off guard.
Basil, who’d been nudging Lucian with pointed looks moments ago, let out an involuntary cough at the Duke’s unfiltered language. Whether it was a real cough or not, Basil raised a hand to his mouth and went on sputtering for some time.
It was typical enough behaviour among men. And it wasn’t just beards. For all their talk of being bold, men were remarkably thin-skinned when it came to disapproving looks. A reproachful glance from a woman sent them into a fit of outrage, as though they’d been trampled underfoot; a disapproving look from another man had them hunching their shoulders and slinking about. So to avoid such looks, they’d glance sideways at the man beside them and follow suit — then square their shoulders and condescend to women’s faces while looking down on them.
What would happen if a man walked into a club with a freshly shaved, bare face? Without a doubt, he’d be dismissed as a callow youth and mocked for quite some time. Lucian was no different — he had the same thing between his legs as the rest of them, and he was thoroughly averse to disapproving looks.
But the difference was that Lucian had the power and the means to remove anyone who dared look at him that way — and then turn the tables and make that same person the target of everyone else’s scorn instead. Basil disapproved, but Lucian rather enjoyed the whole thing, Basil’s reaction included.
Beard and sideburns.
Lucian ran a hand over the lower half of his face. The faint roughness of a fresh shave passed through his fingertips. In truth, unlike Ivan, his sideburns had already been trimmed and put in order well before now.
It hadn’t been grown for the sake of masculinity the way Ivan seemed to think. Lucian had spent his time up until just before the previous Social Season in Phylocines, a neighbouring country, and had simply fallen into their ways naturally. The men of Phylocines didn’t cut their body hair as a matter of cultural practice, and after a prolonged stay there, Lucian had simply grown a beard for convenience.
He’d decided to keep it because it was easy, and because it didn’t look bad. There was, admittedly, a small appeal in the exotic quality it lent him — but it wasn’t as though he’d had any intention of setting it as a trend.
Just as Eugene had thought, Lucian had the sort of appearance that rendered whatever he wore or however he looked entirely irrelevant. The Duke of Highwinter had simply, as always, appeared before society in a new guise regardless of any intention behind it — and ordinary people, as they always did, were bewitched by his unconventional air.
The morning after Lucian made his appearance at the Queen’s ball to open that year’s Social Season, every man in the kingdom had begun growing out his body hair. They grew their hair long and swept it back like him, and even those who could only manage thin, patchy stubble tried their utmost to resemble him. At some point, looking around any given party, it had become difficult to tell whether one was in Hyphaelion or Phylocines — the room was so full of men thick with hair.
Just as Eugene had said — not a single one stopped to consider whether it actually suited them. They were all simply scrambling to keep pace with a trend that had erupted overnight. Those who didn’t follow were labelled as left behind, and regardless of gender, were looked upon as different.
In truth, before Eugene had pointed it out while going through the specifics of Ivan’s face, Lucian hadn’t given the matter much thought himself. Lucian always had a certain reason to exist brilliantly, and the easiest way was to travel the world, collect a few striking and unusual things along the way, and graft them onto himself. He’d been so fixated on how fresh and daring something was — rather than whether it suited him and brought out his best.
This time around, too, Lucian had spent most of his time in Phylocines, and as a result had failed to find anything particularly new to bring back. He’d trimmed his sideburns down and cut his long hair short, but he wasn’t especially satisfied with it.
To soothe that sense of disappointment, he’d carved out time from a packed schedule to visit Atrian — but look as he might in every direction, there was nothing new to be found. Everything that existed at Atrian had, in the first place, originated with Lucian. He was bored.
If he were being honest, everything surrounding him lately had felt tepid and monotonous. And then Eugene Primrose had appeared before him — how could he possibly overlook that and simply walk away? Eugene Primrose was the freshest and most interesting thing Lucian had come across all year.
His extraordinary face alone was already more than enough to captivate — but combined with Eugene’s eye and his perspective, it all became something even more singular to Lucian.
“In truth, Eugene — I already heard the advice you were giving Ivan just now, going through his face point by point. It was a rather striking perspective. So, Ivan — I should like to verify whether Eugene’s eye is as accurate as I suspect.”
“Thank you…?”
“Pardon?”
Eugene and Ivan both let their sentences trail upward at the same moment. The voices of the two brothers — alike and yet distinct — wove together like two parts of a duet. Eugene looked at Ivan. He’d wanted something like this — had been half-hoping for precisely this sort of situation — but now that it was actually happening, right in front of him, he couldn’t help but be caught off guard.
He hadn’t expected Duke Lucian Highwinter to be someone this startling in person. Then again, he also hadn’t expected him to be someone this startling in appearance. Ivan, too, was looking at Eugene with a rather blank expression. Eugene found himself wondering whether Ivan was sweating so much his hair was getting damp and curling even more — a mildly distressing thought.
Watching Ivan try to look composed and failing entirely, Eugene felt a pang of guilt. But there was nothing to be done. Eugene had set this in motion, but by now the situation had slipped entirely out of his hands — it was Lucian who held it, and Lucian who was shaking it.
“Come now — can’t you manage it? Do you think shaving a beard makes a man less of a man?”
“No, it isn’t that, it’s just—”
“This Duke’s ears found your brother’s opinion perfectly sound. So won’t you do this for Eugene and me — let us put it to the test?”
Ivan, who had been all but prostrating himself the moment Lucian walked in, was now hesitating in a way that dragged on far longer than expected. Eugene was starting to feel genuinely anxious.
Not fully understanding the extent of Lucian Highwinter’s power and influence, Eugene found the whole situation utterly nerve-racking — regardless of what Lucian’s actual intentions were. He began to worry, rather belatedly, whether Lucian might take offence and decide to have someone thrown in jail or worse.
It dawned on Eugene, with a creeping sense of regret, that he’d acted recklessly in a world he didn’t yet fully understand. He silently resolved that if he made it back to the townhouse safely with Ivan, he would offer a sincere apology. Then he subtly nudged Ivan in the ribs with his elbow. A clear message: do something, anything.
His anxious blue eyes swept wide — and landed squarely on Lucian instead of Ivan.
At that, Lucian winked at him.
Eugene witnessed it plainly, but his reaction came a beat too late. He shook his head slightly, wondering if he’d imagined it, and looked back at Lucian with wide eyes — but Lucian had already turned his face away and was looking at Basil.
“Basil.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Basil, who had been doing nothing but watching the whole scene unfold from a safe distance, was pulled in against his will. He’d been standing deliberately with his hands behind his back, making it clear he wanted no part in any of this. But that sort of thing had never once worked on Lucian.
“Let’s tidy things up on me first.”
“What do you— ahem. What do you mean, Your Grace?”
Basil played dumb and made a show of not understanding, but Lucian put an end to it. Basil had understood him perfectly well. Lucian remained in his insufferably arrogant posture and extended a hand toward Eugene.
“My beard. What do you think, Eugene?”
It was a strange gesture. It could have been an invitation to give his opinion — and it could just as easily have read as an offer of a hand to take, the way gentlemen escorted ladies in films. It was slightly odd, but Eugene bowed his head and offered a compliment. Not an empty one, as it happened — but the truth.
