A tall guard cornered Kyan near the kitchen entrance, slipped a small folded note into his palm, and walked away without a word.
Kyan opened it slowly.
"If he's drunk to stupor, drop him in Room 105. Top floor. —R"
He blinked, then rolled his eyes with a scoff. Of course, he thought. She's really pushing it now.
With the note crushed in his fist, Kyan walked back into the hall—his face blank, his steps steady.
Nico was seated alone at the far end of the long table, looking like a king among men. Back straight, jaw clenched, a brooding storm resting on his fine face.
And yet, all Kyan could think about was the men who'd died. His people. Executed. Like animals.
He walked to Nico in silence, placed the drink in front of him without saying a word.
Nico's eyes slowly flicked up.
Kyan's voice was tight, barely above a whisper.
"Your drink , sir," he said, turning to leave.
But before he could take two steps, Nico's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist—tight, commanding, like a chain snapping around him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Nico's voice was low and sharp, dragging across Kyan's skin like cold fire. "Did I say I was done with my drink?"
Kyan turned slightly, swallowing hard, his back stiff.
"Sir, I thought—"
"You thought wrong," Nico cut in, slowly rising to his feet. His dark eyes burned into Kyan's. "Is it common for servants in this house to walk off before their Master finishes?"
Kyan said nothing. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Nico took a step closer, his voice now a whisper only the two of them could hear.
"You can stand there and look pretty while I drink. And when I'm done, you'll return the bottles like you're meant to. Understand?"
Kyan's heart raced, his fingers trembling in Nico's grip. He gave a small nod.
"Good boy," Nico muttered, finally letting go and downing the glass in one sharp gulp.
But his eyes never left Kyan.
Kyan stood frozen for a second, eyes glued to the floor as Nico lifted the second glass.
Room 105 or... was it 205?
His heart skipped. Damn it.
He quickly dug into his pocket, fingers searching the thin lining of his apron. Nothing. Just lint and that tiny pen he forgot to return to the kitchen drawer.
Shit. The note must've slipped from his grip during the crowd rush.
Behind him, he heard the sound of liquid pouring past lips—Nico had taken his second shot.
Kyan's throat tightened.
"Focus," he whispered to himself. "Focus, Kyan. Was it 205?"
He chewed his bottom lip, glancing at Nico out the corner of his eye.
Nico exhaled with a satisfied hum after finishing the second glass, his fingers tapping lightly on the rim like he was waiting for a refill.
Kyan's palms were sweating now.
Meanwhile…
In Room 105, Raven twirled around in nothing but a short white towel, her skin still damp from a hot soak in the tub.
Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She ran her fingers through her damp curls and laughed softly, satisfied.
"Finally," she whispered, "tonight, he's mine."
She plopped onto the bed, towel sliding dangerously up her thigh, and reached for her phone to text her dad—'It's working. Just pray that nonsense softie doesn't mess this up.'
Her eyes glinted as she set the phone aside. "He's probably on his way now… drunk, helpless, and all mine."
She leaned back on the pillows with a smug grin.
"Let the king make me his queen… even if he's too wasted to remember it."
Back in the grand hall, the night had gotten louder, messier.
Nico sat with one leg crossed, his back slouched lazily like the arrogant king he was, eyes half-lidded, hair tousled in a way that made him look dangerously hot—too hot for his own good.
The bottle in his hand was nearly empty, and his chuckle was slower, deeper.
Kyan returned quietly, eyes lowered, about to clear the empty glasses.
But Nico's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.
"Where do you think you're going, Softie?" he slurred slightly, voice still annoyingly deep and bossy.
"You serve me, you drink with me."
Kyan's eyes widened. "I—I don't drink, Master."
Nico gave a half-laugh, half-growl. "You do now."
And before Kyan could back away, Nico poured him a shot and pressed the glass to his lips. "Open up, Softie. Or I'll make you."
Kyan hesitated, lips parting slightly. He'd never tasted alcohol before.
But Nico was watching him with that wild, heated stare, and for some reason… his hands were shaking as he took the shot.
One sip burned like fire.
The next one… made his head spin.
Kyan giggled softly—God, he was drunk. Way too drunk.
He tried to steady himself as he grabbed Nico's heavy arm and slung it over his shoulder.
"L–Let me lead you to your room, Master," he said, swaying slightly.
Nico smirked, his lips brushing Kyan's ear. "Mmm… good boy."
Kyan blushed to the tips of his ears but kept walking, his small frame supporting Nico's weight.
"205... yeah," kyan slurred remembering the note . "Take him there, Softie."
They staggered through the hallway, bumping into walls and laughing like idiots.
Kyan's cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, but he didn't care.
"Almost there," he mumbled, pushing open the door to Room 205.
Neither of them noticed Raven waiting, half-naked, two floors above.
Kyan finally got the door open, half-tripping over the carpet as he dragged Nico inside.
"Here we are," he mumbled, breathless. "205…"
With a grunt, he dropped Nico, who collapsed face-first onto the massive bed like a fallen tree.
"Phew…" Kyan wiped his forehead, taking a shaky step back, ready to leave before anything else got weird.
But then—
A hand.
Big, strong fingers wrapped around his wrist.
Kyan froze.
"W-What are you—?"
Nico didn't even lift his head. His voice was low, raspy, drunk, but still… dangerous.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, Softie?"
Kyan's heart skipped.
His wrist was still in Nico's grip. Firm and possessively.
And he wasn't letting go.
Kyan's breath hitched. He was still trying to pull his wrist free when Nico slowly turned his head on the pillow, eyes half-lidded, voice deep and gravelly.
"Strip for me, Softie."
Kyan blinked. "W-What?"
Nico gave a lazy smirk, the kind that could melt bones. "You heard me."
"Y-You're drunk," Kyan muttered, heart pounding.
"Exactly," Nico growled, tightening his grip. "So I'll say it once... and only once."