Chapter 17 - King Cinderella: Two Hearts Entwined in Sin

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Chapter 17

 

 

Erald James, now united with the second prince, Chalon Aschenptel, lived each day with deep gratitude, cherishing the most fulfilling period of his life while quietly dreading the inevitable end of this dream.

 

Though he still woke with the crowing of the rooster, his routine had shifted. After tending the fields, he would help with carpentry work at a neighboring house. Once that was done, he would hurry home to prepare himself and make his way to a nearby noble residence.

 

Taking advantage of the rare silence from his stepmother and stepbrother—who feared legal consequences and dared not interfere—Erald had secured a position as a private tutor.

 

Though a commoner, he was originally from a wealthy family, and both his refinement and handsome appearance were well known among the local households. Many held a favorable opinion of him.

 

His late mother's dignified status also worked in his favor. The viscount and his wife personally requested his service, and Erald now instructed their son in a wide range of subjects: languages, swordsmanship, and even dance.

 

With no choice but to earn a living outside in order to afford winter clothing—without parting with his beloved books—Erald had taken the job. The viscount's family, too, saw it as a welcome solution: they were eager to hide their son's inadequacies from other nobles and welcomed someone who could help polish his image.

 

"At first, they asked me to focus on language and swordsmanship," Erald recounted from the bed. "But the very next day, in a state of urgency, they requested, 'Forget everything else—just make sure he can dance, and quickly.'"

 

"In that case," Chalon replied with a gentle smile, "I believe I know the reason."

 

After finishing his lessons at the viscount's house, Erald would make his way straight to the forest. Chalon, for his part, ventured out under the pretense of gathering herbs and flowers. Guarded by his beloved horse and ten loyal hounds, he traveled daily to the lakeside villa.

 

"Could it be that the long-suspended balls are about to resume?"

 

"Yes, I believe that's likely. Preparations have already begun, so everything will be ready the moment my brother returns."

 

"Is His Highness the Crown Prince expected back soon?"

 

"…Yes. This time, he truly is returning."

 

Without even a stitch of clothing between them, Chalon whispered the words as he lay entwined with Erald, exhaling a heavy sigh.

 

Erald understood just as well—once the Crown Prince returned, this secret idyll would end.

 

On that stormy day, Prince Varius and his entourage had been blocked from returning by fallen trees and flooded rivers. As a result, the two lovers had enjoyed a blissful fortnight together, undisturbed.

 

It was said that, disliking the idea of roughing it, Varius had chosen to remain in a castle in the neighboring kingdom of Auden. Rumors abounded that he was being detained—or perhaps entertained—by a princess or noble lady eager to claim him as a husband.

 

Even the king, growing angry at his prolonged leisure, had sent envoys to call him back, but to no avail.

 

The exact details were unknown, even to his own brother Chalon. Still, whispers had spread among the people—that the Crown Prince had lost himself in lavish foreign hunts and highborn hospitality.

 

"I've kept hoping my brother's whims would delay his return just a little longer," Chalon admitted.

 

"Prince Chalon…"

 

"It's not because we became one on that stormy night," he added, voice soft as a bird's song. "Even before that, I was already wishing for more time. I suppose I must have fallen in love with you without realizing it."

 

As he spoke, he nestled his face into Erald's chest like a small bird seeking warmth.

 

When his head shifted slightly, light rippled through the golden waves of his hair, spread across the sheets. Erald, unable to resist, reached out and tangled his fingers in those silky curls.

 

Chalon's breath warmed Erald's collarbone, soothing and tender.

 

When he touched the prince's delicate shoulders and back, the warmth there made everything feel real.

 

Knowing that these moments were numbered made it almost unbearable—but at the same time, he felt as if he had already experienced a lifetime's worth of happiness.

 

To have met someone so far beyond his reach, to fall in love, and to have that love returned—no matter what came before or after, this was a life worth living.

 

"If I were to die right now," Erald murmured, "I think I'd still feel the deepest happiness imaginable. Even if, once the Crown Prince returns, I can no longer see you… I'll live on, sustained by the memory of this joy."

 

Hearing such a blurred wish between life and death, Chalon lifted his head from Erald's chest.

 

His expression was awash in sorrow.

 

His violet eyes were damp, the surface of them shimmering as if a single drop might fall at any moment.

 

"Erald… It hurts, not being able to see you. I'm always thinking about how I might find a way to be with you again. Even once my brother returns, I keep trying to think of ways we might continue as we are now…"

 

His voice wavered.

 

"I even thought about lying to him," he admitted. "But no matter what excuse I come up with, my brother wouldn't forgive me. And not just him—Father too. He's already noticed how often I go out. Last night, he told me, 'You should limit your visits.'"

 

Even in bed, Chalon spoke with the composure and dignity of a prince. But after saying this, he closed his eyes and once more pressed his face into Erald's chest.

 

In a voice barely audible, he whispered, "I just want to stay like this forever."

 

"Prince Chalon…"

 

Erald held the fragile Chalon gently in both arms, as though afraid he might break from too much pressure.

 

He was truly delicate—not just in body, but in the way one couldn't touch him casually, even without considering that he was a prince or a man.

 

Though his warmth seemed to sear the soul, he felt like a work of delicate glass, without the pulse of blood.

 

"I feel the same. I want to stay like this forever."

 

If he could, Erald would have taken him away—anywhere far from here.

 

He never had the luxury of dwelling in sentiment, not with his burdens. But the hardest moments were always when he had to part from Chalon and head home. He would battle the impulse to change Aston's route and chase after Chalon, only to return home and be slammed back into reality the moment he saw his stepmother's or stepbrother's face.

 

"…Nnh…"

 

Erald touched Chalon's chin and kissed him as they lay together.

 

Though they had just shared their bodies, he ached to hold him again.

 

No matter how much he touched him, it never felt like enough. The love that surged endlessly within him knew no end.

 

He felt the contradiction of a god who bestowed upon him this unbearable longing for another man, a body capable of loving freely despite their shared gender, and the opportunity to meet in secret—yet forbade it all.

 

"Kh… ah…"

 

Erald teased Chalon's tender lips, seeking his sweet tongue.

 

As he reached down toward the still-sensitive opening behind, Chalon moved in a way he hadn't before. He slipped a hand between their chests, pressing lightly against Erald, as if to halt him.

 

"Prince Chalon?"

 

Their lips parted, and the string of sweetness that had connected them broke in silence like a spider's thread.

 

Worried that Chalon might no longer want him, Erald looked up and found a face tinged with a faint blush, as if shy. There was no trace of rejection.

 

"Um… I have a request…"

 

"Y-yes?"

 

Chalon awkwardly sat up and placed his palm on Erald's bare chest.

 

Pressing just to the left of center, where his heart beat beneath, Chalon quietly spoke.

 

"May I touch you more, so I can remember you even when we're apart?"

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