Lucian wasn’t mannered enough to let this go as if nothing had happened. For the sake of his own reckless reputation, if nothing else, he couldn’t just let it pass.
Clicking his tongue, Lucian rubbed his fingers through the semen Eugene had spilled so thoroughly. He smeared the fluid, with its just-right viscosity, across Eugene’s skin. It was nothing more than a spiteful little prank.
“Hmph… sleeping so peacefully, how carefree.”
He let out a long sigh and turned his eyes toward the ceiling. In contrast to the obscene state of his lower body, Eugene’s face — eyelids lowered in peaceful sleep — still looked like some sacred angel, and Lucian felt his own spent length stiffening again. Lust seemed to spring up endlessly, like a well that never ran dry.
It’s not as if I’m some green virgin boy, and I’ve always had a healthy appetite, but is it possible I’m in heat today of all days? If he stayed here any longer, indulging in more pranks just for the sake of it, he felt he’d only wound his own pride further and turn into a truly terrible person. So Lucian left Eugene sprawled there as he was and slipped out of the room. His footsteps, as he turned and stirred up a breeze, were irritable.
***
This kind of line and development is so clichéd, but I guess it has to be done.
An unfamiliar ceiling.
Eugene stared fixedly at the ceiling, trying his best to ignore the cool sensation of his body beneath the blanket. Very dark green silk wallpaper — something never seen in the Primrose residence. The color was dark enough to make the room look dim, but the furniture arrangement and the exotic little objects scattered here and there created a peculiar sense of charm. It was a kind of grandeur that didn’t quite suit Eugene’s taste, but it was a very well-decorated space nonetheless.
Even the guest room has an elaborate canopy bed — clearly, the owner of this house was no less wealthy than the Primrose family. Should I be relieved that whoever I spent the night with isn’t at least some random pauper? A rather too-handsome face flashed across his mind.
He’d been thrown into a panic after running into that strange mustached man and Lady Chelsea at the palace. He remembered clinging to Lucian Highwinter like a lifeline when he ran into him in the midst of that, remembered snatching the drink Lucian had been holding and downing it, riding in the carriage with him, and even coming into this very room together. And then….
“So little patience, really.”
“Eugene? Right on time, waking up just now.”
He felt like crying. Not that he’d actually shed any tears. When was the last time I cried? He couldn’t even remember. But he genuinely felt like he wanted to cry right now.
Quite some time had passed since he’d come to his senses, but Eugene kept staring at the ceiling, turning the situation over and over in his mind. By this point, he had no choice but to face reality, like it or not. Eugene hesitantly lifted the blanket and checked his own body.
“Haah…….”
Just as he’d suspected, he was naked, and the lower half of his body bore unmistakable evidence. Not-yet-dry fluid — whether his or someone else’s, he couldn’t tell. And not only that — if the other party had been some kind of animal, there were clear bite marks on both his chest. Looks like I won’t be taking my shirt off in public anytime soon. Not that there was any chance of that happening anyway.
All these marks had been left by Lucian Highwinter. The image lingered in his mind — Lucian’s face, breathing roughly and smirking wickedly, looking attractive and handsome even in a situation like this. Eugene’s jaw dropped. His vision went dark, and Ivan’s warnings flashed through his mind, along with all the rumors and reputation surrounding Lucian.
If I had to describe how I feel right now… like having a one-night stand with my direct boss the night before my first day at work? He didn’t know. He’d never done anything like that, never even imagined it. The situation was so catastrophically bad he couldn’t even compare it to anything. At this rate, I’d rather have just fainted on the spot. If he’d collapsed in front of the mustached man and Lady Chelsea, he couldn’t even guess what might have happened to him.
Eugene raised his hand, about to slam it against his own forehead repeatedly, but stopped himself. Even without that, his head was already throbbing as if it might split open, and his stomach churned. But Eugene’s mind had gone cold enough to push all of that discomfort far away.
He wasn’t screaming or clutching his head — lying there pretending to be composed — but his hands were trembling, faintly, without him fully realizing it. On the surface, Eugene looked calm. What had happened had already happened, and this unfamiliar bedroom was no place to flounder in shock. Eugene steadied his resolve once more and let out a deep sigh.
Dear Eugene Primrose, I’m sorry. I’ve committed a grave sin against you. I can’t be certain whether you were a virgin or not, but I imagine you were in the same situation as me. The mental shock is something I’ll have to bear right now, not you.
Still, I really am sorry. There’s nothing I can say. I want to tell you to beat me until your anger fades, hit my head, curse me out, do whatever — but in the end, it’s only Eugene Primrose who loses out… what am I even saying. I’m sorry.
But I have my grievances too. How was I supposed to know the body I ended up in would have a panic attack at the sight of a mustache, or that it would be this much of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol? Eugene Primrose, next time, please keep a diary. Leave some kind of record somewhere of what kind of person you are.
Eugene quietly got out of bed. It wasn’t Cinderella’s glass slipper situation, but he started gathering up his scattered clothes from the floor. Putting his clothes on as-is felt far too unpleasant given the state of his lower half.
Damn it…
He’d never imagined his first time would be with some duke from another world, but Eugene had his own kind of romantic ideals too. He hadn’t asked for anything grand, but he certainly hadn’t dreamed of waking up alone in such a wretched state, picking his clothes up off the floor.
Did we really… do it?
There was too much evidence on his body to deny reality. For one thing, he was naked, and there was fluid — whether his or someone else’s — left on his lower body. Whoever came, well, there must have been a reason for it to happen.
It was a bit odd that there wasn’t much pain in his lower body. “Maybe it was small enough that it didn’t hurt going in,” Eugene muttered to himself, then immediately shook his head. Just from the silhouette visible through those tight-fitting pants, that clearly wasn’t the case.
If not that, then… could it be that the other person was simply extremely skilled in this area? Skilled enough, technically, to not hurt his partner…? Eugene shook his head firmly. Or maybe Eugene Primrose, in keeping with this world’s wildly loose standards of chastity, already had experience before this…
I don’t know. What does it even matter? The moment he’d woken up in this state, in an unfamiliar bed, the game was already over. For now, he’d set these thoughts aside — self-blame, wild speculation, and regret were things to deal with once he got home.
Right now, he was practically in the middle of enemy territory; there was no room to waste time so leisurely. As Eugene picked up his scattered clothes from the floor again, he felt something crinkle inside his jacket’s breast pocket.
“Ah. This…”
Eugene pulled out the paper he’d never managed to take out the night before. This was what had led to this whole disaster — he’d meant to show it to Lucian and have a proper conversation. Even in his half-conscious state, he’d tried so hard to show it to him, but judging by how neatly it was still tucked away in his pocket, he apparently never had.
Knock, knock. At the sound of knuckles against solid wood, Eugene looked up toward the door. Standing in the wide-open doorway was Lucian Highwinter, draped in a golden robe. He looked freshly showered, his body and hair still damp.
For a moment, the thought of “I slept with someone like that?” and wanting to interrogate him about last night completely vanished. How could I even bring it up? To a man with looks like that — who was, on top of everything, a duke. Instead, the fact that he couldn’t even remember the important parts left him feeling — just a tiny bit, the smallest sliver — disappointed.
If only this had been a proper start — not as Eugene Primrose, but as Park Yujin, not some mistake made in a haze of panic and drunkenness, but something real. But Eugene’s wistfulness was instantly shattered by Lucian’s very next greeting.
“You’re finally awake. Eugene Primrose. I’d like you to leave my house now.”
What should I even say back? Some villain from a morning drama? Maybe that’s too far. Eugene recalled what Ivan had told him about the loose sexual mores of nobles in this era and tried to calm his rising emotions as much as possible. He tried, but it didn’t help much. Not even a friendly greeting upon waking — straight to being shown the door. What a jerk, Eugene thought to himself.
“My usual policy is that one-night partners don’t share breakfast with me, nor do I let them into my house a second time.”
Standing with his arms crossed and one hip cocked, Lucian smirked coldly as he looked Eugene up and down, still crouched on the floor. Reminded of his own state by that gaze, Eugene abruptly stood up. As he did, the paper he’d been holding fluttered to the floor — Aldrin’s drawing. Eugene reflexively reached to pick it up, then suddenly realized: it’s now or never.
Lucian had just said it himself, clearly: a partner he’d slept with once would never be let into his house a second time. This might be Eugene’s last remaining chance — his only chance to speak with Lucian Highwinter alone.
“Please give me a moment of your time. There’s something I’d like to propose to you, Duke.”
“Now? Did you not hear me ask you to leave?”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying this. There’s something I absolutely want to show you before I leave on my own. Once my business is finished, I’ll leave immediately.”
Eugene held out the paper in his hand boldly as he spoke. Despite how steady and unshaken his words sounded, his appearance — bite marks plainly visible on both sides of his chest, lower half barely covered by a haphazardly grabbed piece of clothing — was the kind of sight destined to become a lasting source of embarrassment.
Still, it was worth a shot. He couldn’t just quietly slip out of the ducal residence having accomplished nothing. If he’d been the type to meekly accept “no” and let this chance slip away, he wouldn’t have clung to Lucian in the first place while barely conscious. Something Eugene Primrose, with his lofty pride, could never have imagined doing — but Park Yujin could.
Lucian strode toward Eugene with long, confident steps, like a model walking a runway. Eugene half-expected him to scoff and ignore him entirely, but instead, surprisingly, Lucian snatched the bundle of papers from Eugene’s hand. It was an arrogant gesture that wouldn’t have been out of place thrown straight back in his face — but instead, surprisingly, Lucian carefully examined the drawing on the paper.
“What’s this? Is this me?”
Though it had been drawn somewhat ambiguously, it apparently looked unmistakably like himself, as Lucian pointed to the man standing in the figure. Eugene nodded, not bothering to hide it.
