Chapter 27 - Sleeping King

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Chapter 27

 

 

Just as he escaped the vision of a world drowned in black and red, Aurelian's voice reached him.

 

Fisé had not heard the door open behind him—and in his surprise, he turned at once.

 

Caught off guard, he met Aurelian's gaze with nothing to shield himself—no mask, no practiced smile. And he was left breathless by the sight of that radiant smile, blooming more brightly than the roses around them.

 

In that softly glowing morning—where the moon had not yet vanished completely—a single golden shaft of light pierced through the clouds, and it felt as if a messenger of the gods had descended to earth. For a moment, it seemed he had wings—great white wings unfurled behind him.

 

When Fisé looked more closely, he saw they were only masses of white roses, climbing along the villa walls. And yet, Aurelian's smile made him look every bit the angel.

 

No ordinary human could shine like this.

 

With such a luminous expression, so overflowing with joy that it spilled into Fisé's chest and filled it to the brim… how could this man not be an angel?

 

There was no need to think of him as a human man. This love—was not between human and fae. It was a love between two beings who were never meant to belong to this world.

 

Surely, a love that would never end.

 

"For such magnificent white roses to bloom… I must be the luckiest man alive."

 

Though he still wore his jacket, Aurelian had no cloak draped over his shoulders, seemingly unaffected by the cold as he stepped forward.

 

He approached Fisé, who sat by the pond, and with quiet grace, knelt before him.

 

Bringing their eye lines close, he reached for the hand that held the white rose.

 

"May I take this… as your answer?"

 

Aurelian's voice was calm, his tone more refined than usual. He looked every bit the prince proposing to a princess, and Fisé could sense the tension beneath his composed surface.

 

What gave him that confidence were the roses themselves—speaking eloquently where Fisé could not. After the night they had shared, any man would take this sight as confirmation. So had the other, long ago.

 

"—I am… very weak to pleasure," Fisé said quietly. "It's simply in the nature of a rose spirit. It carries no deeper meaning. Please don't think of last night as something extraordinary. I… I was in heat, and I used your body to satisfy a fleeting desire."

 

Even now, Fisé could not bring himself to say what was true.

 

Aurelian's eyes widened—but only for a moment. He didn't seem shocked. Nor did he seem hurt.

 

His brilliance didn't dim; in fact, he looked more resolute than before. Still holding Fisé's hand, he gazed at him intently.

 

"Rose King Fisé, I believe in you… though I don't always believe your words," he said gently. "I offer you my whole heart. Please remain by my side—not just as my only love, but when I ascend the throne, as someone like a queen, standing with me. I know it's audacious—unworthy, even—to propose such a thing to someone as great as you. And yet, I cannot help myself. I love you so deeply, I can see no future where we are apart."

 

Brushing aside Fisé's attempt to deflect, Aurelian fixed him with a look burning with emotion.

 

Then, slowly, he leaned down—and without breaking eye contact, pressed a kiss to the back of Fisé's hand.

 

His lips were warm—imbued with a passion that thawed the chill of snow and roses alike.

 

"Will you marry me?"

 

Who could hear such words and not feel their heart leap? Who could possibly not be moved?

 

Fisé's heart beat so fast it felt like it would echo into his fingertips, and he had no way to hide it.

 

He wanted to say yes. He truly did. He no longer wanted to lie. If he could just summon the courage to believe in Aurelian… he was certain happiness would follow. He would be happy. Aurelian would be happy. Even the people of this nation could be made happy.

 

"…Please… give me some time to think."

 

"…Fisé…"

 

He wanted to say yes—but he couldn't. And this time, he had truly hurt Aurelian.

 

Buoyed by the sea of white roses, Aurelian had brimmed with confidence—but now, that confidence faltered.

 

He tried his best to maintain a smile, but his eyes trembled.

 

"…I see. You're right… I'm sorry. I suppose… I was hoping for too much."

 

Aurelian's voice took on a heavier tone, as though veiled in the color of a sky waiting for snow.

 

Just moments ago, his voice had been the color of roses—not white or red, but the soft flush of his boyhood cheeks.

 

And yet… there was still time to take it back. He could still say: "I've thought it over and made my decision."

 

Such an exchange—refusing at first, only to accept a heartbeat later—is not uncommon among humans. It's a way of surprising the other, lifting them from despair into elation. If he played it off as that, he could spare Aurelian from pain. It's not too late.

 

Aurelian would surely be stunned—and then light up with the brightest, most dazzling smile.

 

"If only that rose were blooming somewhere… in this white forest."

 

Just as Fisé had resolved to accept his proposal, Aurelian's whispered words caught in his breath.

 

The answer that had hovered at the edge of his tongue suddenly sank back down into his throat.

 

Aurelian slowly rose and turned his gaze to the forest that surrounded the villa.

 

He looked upon the trees—wreathed in white roses and green vines out of season—with quiet affection.

 

"There must be hundreds of thousands of these white roses. I wonder… if I searched through them, would I find it?"

 

His earlier disappointment forgotten, Aurelian now spoke like a boy who had found a new dream.

 

As he spoke, full of renewed hope and wonder, Fisé froze—his whole body gone still like a statue of stone.

 

What rose did Aurelian long to find? What bloom would he push through a forest of white roses to uncover? Fisé knew what it was, even though his mind screamed not to think it.

 

A rose of a color he had never seen.

 

He remembered clearly, from long ago: the sight of a man pushing through white roses in search of it. Back then, he was still too innocent to understand the treachery of human men or the pain of betrayal.

 

He hadn't understood its value back then. But now he did.

 

A human life is short—and nearly half of it is lived in the shadow of aging.

 

A rose of eternity, offering both youth and everlasting life, was nothing less than a holy treasure—one worth staking a kingdom on—for the greedy heart of man.

 

"You… you know the legend of the Eternal Rose? Are you… interested in it?"

 

Aurelian had never once spoken of it before.

 

Fisé had assumed he either didn't know it—or if he did, he simply didn't care.

 

Given his tender age—more youthful than merely young—it wouldn't have been strange for Aurelian to hold no desire for eternal life or beauty.

 

But his answer was something else entirely.

 

"Of course I do. I don't think there's anyone alive who isn't interested," he said with an innocent smile.

 

He hadn't parted the white roses as crudely as his father once had, but his desire was the same.

 

He sought a rose of even greater value—and now, he looked out over the forest as if to claim it.

 

"Maybe not now… but someday, it'll bloom—won't it?"

 

Aurelian spread his arms wide, exhaling a white breath into the cold morning air.

 

In eyes the color of midsummer skies, a gray winter sky was now reflected.

 

There could never be roses blooming in the heavens—yet he lifted his face skyward and declared:

 

"I'll make it bloom. I promise."

 

His voice rang out strong and certain.

 

"Aurelian… do you… truly desire eternal youth… eternal life?"

 

"I do. Of course I do. Because I want to live forever… with you, Fisé."

 

He answered without hesitation, his smile as bright and untroubled as ever.

 

The words—nearly identical to those once spoken by his father—carried none of the darkness. Only light.

 

He spoke them not with cunning, but with innocent joy. No deception. No ill intent.

 

And yet…

 

Even as Fisé wanted to believe him, he found Aurelian more and more difficult to understand.

 

 

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