Rolling in Bed with the Male Lead

Click—

The old warehouse door creaked open.

Richard instinctively held his breath.

A smell seeped through the crack in the door and pierced his nostrils.

Wine... No, a heavier, more pungent metallic odor mingled with it.

Blood.

"......"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the interior of the warehouse gradually came into view.

His watery-blue eyes widened in shock.

Four bodies lay sprawled across the floor.

These men...

Richard recognized them instinctively.

They were the noblemen who had tried to rape him earlier that day.

Their dead faces were frozen with their eyes rolled back, deep sword wounds gouged into their necks, their arms and legs twisted at unnatural angles.

The bodies had been so thoroughly brutalized that not a single part of them remained intact, as if someone had unleashed a torrent of suppressed rage upon them.

The blood had already congealed, spreading in dark crimson stains across the floor.

The metallic stench rose dankly from the damp stone, seeping deep into his lungs.

And—

Atop those bodies sat someone still dressed in a black formal uniform.

Crimson eyes gleamed faintly as they gazed at Richard.

He held a bottle of wine.

Every time he tipped its neck, red liquid streamed down, soaking the back of his hand and the hem of his clothes.

"...Cailus?"

Richard called his name almost reflexively. His voice trembled.

Cailus slowly raised his head.

His crimson eyes, wavering with drink, reflected Richard.

A low breath escaped him.

"...Richard. Is that you?"

His voice was low and languid with alcohol.

There was no anger or murderous intent in it.

Instead, it held an almost unbelievable warmth.

"......"

For a moment, Richard was speechless.

Is he... drunk?

The sight of him sitting atop the bodies and smiling at Richard as naturally as could be was chilling.

Cailus lightly tilted the wine bottle.

Red liquid trickled down the back of his bloodstained hand.

He smiled serenely, as though nothing had happened.

"...Those men."

Richard swallowed against his dry throat. His voice shook.

"...Did Your Highness kill them?"

Silence settled over the warehouse.

Cailus narrowed his eyes and nodded with perfect calm.

"Yes."

A short, decisive answer.

That alone sent a chill down Richard's spine.

"Why did you kill them?"

Only then did Cailus lower what he held.

The bottle fell into a pool of blood on the floor with a dull thud.

As the red liquid spread, the scent of wine grew stronger inside the warehouse.

Though he sat atop the blood-soaked corpses, Cailus regarded Richard with an impossibly tender gaze.

"Why?"

His lips curved softly.

"They tried to lay their hands on you."

He was unmistakably different from his usual self.

Richard was momentarily at a loss for words.

As though it were only natural, Cailus murmured in a low, drunken voice.

"They dared, without even knowing their place. And you, of all people."

His crimson eyes were faintly unfocused.

Damn it... What is this?

Richard squeezed his eyes shut against the dizziness.

It felt as if even the alcohol that had already worn off was surging through him again.

Why?

He could not understand.

You're talking as if you love me....

"Was it... to save face?"

"......"

Cailus let out a scoffing laugh.

Short and dry, as though the idea were absurd.

"Of course not."

"...?"

Richard's brow furrowed deeply. His heart pounded.

His words were different from earlier.

No, not only his words. His gaze, his tone, his demeanor—everything was different.

What is this...?

Richard bit down hard on his lip.

It was almost as though Cailus had two personalities.

......

But then he realized that this version of him was not entirely unfamiliar.

Last time too....

On their first night together, when Richard had slipped the love potion into his wine as part of his scheme.

He had changed just as strangely then.

His cold demeanor had crumbled, and he had become gentle.

Then, once he sobered up, he had turned cold again as though nothing had happened.

...Could it be that it had not been the love potion's effect after all?

Does his personality change when he's drunk?

Richard worried his lower lip between his teeth.

His suspicions hardened into certainty.

"......"

At that moment, Cailus's crimson eyes, steeped in blood and alcohol, turned toward him again.

His gaze was so soft and tender that it bordered on aching.

"Richard."

His low voice cut through the darkness.

"Are your injuries any better?"

Goose bumps rose all over Richard's body.

He sounded concerned for him.

Here, in the midst of this scene.

"...Your Highness."

Richard called to him cautiously.

Cailus tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled.

"I'm glad you're safe."

He spoke as though the bodies did not even exist.

"These men will never touch you again."

Richard's heart raced wildly.

Confusion, fear, and an emotion he could not explain tangled together inside him.

...No.

Whatever the reason, that was not what mattered.

His watery-blue eyes turned cold.

This might be an opportunity.

Cailus when he was drunk.

The way he was now.

At times like this, he was inexplicably gentle with Richard.

If I ask him now....

He might be able to find some way to stop the engagement from being broken.

His heart felt ready to burst from confusion, but he could not hesitate.

He had to seize even the slightest opening.

Before that tender gaze disappeared.

"Your Highness."

Richard cautiously stepped closer.

The warehouse floor was slick with blood and wine, but he had no attention to spare for what lay beneath his feet.

Those crimson eyes followed him.

The gaze was tranquil, yet something deep and intense lurked within it.

"......"

Richard bit his lip, then finally forced the words out.

"...Would you reconsider breaking our engagement?"

The air inside the warehouse grew heavy enough to suffocate him.

A brief silence followed.

Cailus simply stared at him with crimson eyes.

His gaze was blurred with drink, yet a strangely profound shadow lay within it.

"...Richard."

His voice fell low.

"I cannot."

The answer was short and decisive.

Richard's heart plummeted.

"Why...? Why not?"

He steadied his wavering breath and took another step closer.

"......"

Cailus's lips twisted faintly.

"...You would be in danger."

He rose from amid the pile of corpses.

"......"

Richard stared at him, holding his breath.

There was no falsehood in Cailus's eyes.

No anger. No contempt.

Only genuine concern.

...What does that mean?

His heart thrashed in his chest.

The incomprehensible tone. The incomprehensible behavior.

And—

"...Richard."

Cailus softly called his name.

His voice was not cold. On the contrary, it could not have been gentler.

That tenderness was so incongruous with the hellish scene around them that it felt all the more unreal.

Stepping over the bodies, Cailus approached him one measured step at a time.

"I...."

He stopped in front of Richard.

Then he carefully raised an arm and caressed Richard's cheek.

The touch Richard had expected to be cold and rough was surprisingly warm.

Inside the warehouse, thick with the stench of blood and alcohol, that touch alone felt strangely comforting.

For one fleeting instant, its tenderness seemed to bring even time to a halt.

Then Cailus spoke, his voice very low but unmistakably clear.

"...I know you returned to the past."

"...!"

Richard's eyes flew wide.

The shock struck him so violently that his breath stopped.

"What did you... just say...?"

His voice trembled.

His gaze wavered, and his heart hammered wildly.

He nearly slipped as he lost his balance and instinctively retreated a step.

Cailus smiled as though drunk.

It was a bitter smile, yet somehow warm.

"So don't try so hard."

Richard's breathing quickened.

Hundreds of questions gathered on the tip of his tongue, tangling in his throat until they formed a solid mass that left him unable to speak.

"......"

Cailus whispered one final time.

"It will all be pointless anyway."

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