sweet honey, noble heart

NOTES before reading the story. Please bear with me this is quite long, I even made an entire chapter for this...

- OOC (Obviously. I don't care tho)

- Loosely based on Bridgerton Season 1 and 2 combined. Of course you can still read this if you haven't watched the series.

- Names of places, islands, extra characters are all made up and random. Don't come at me for it.

- I'm sorry if there's modern phrase/words that slipped into this Regency era story. I did my best.

- There are some genderbend on some characters: Keito as Alpha Female, Takahiro as Omega Female, Yusei as Beta Female.

- There might be some inconsistency in name callings. Spare me.

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- Sato Family is a Baron, the lowest rank of peerage. Business nobleman, owns businesses, lands etc.

- Yamamoto Family is a Marquess, high-rank military noble, mainly work for the country.

- Sawamoto Family is a Duke, owns lands etc.

- In terms of rank, Sawamoto → Yamamoto → Sato.

Honestly I don't really know about peerage and ranks and stuff so I'm sorry beforehand if there's any mistakes lol. I just... Let's just say everyone is Lord and Lady... idc man. I just want to write yggdrasil in Bridgerton setting + Omegaverse.

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NOTES regarding MY version of Regency era + Omegaverse setting:

- Alphas and Omegas have scents, Beta have no scent.

- The scent glands are on their behind/below right ears.

- Omegas have natural slick so they don't need lube or anything like that.

- Unmated alphas and omegas are expected to (and have to) put scent patches on their scent glands to cover their scent. Their scent won't be disappeared, but muted, so it won't trigger unnecessary heat/rut.

- The shape of scent patches are rectangle, cream colored (reference: just like a salonpas but a little bigger).

- Mated (married) Alphas and Omegas don't have to cover their scent glands as they are bonded (there would be bite mark on it) and their scent would mix, and they wont trigger anyone's heat/rut.

- Married Omega Male can also be addressed as a Lady or a wife. (I had great time troubling over whether married male omega should be called Lady or Lord. I chose Lady in the end.)

- I deliberately 'break' some of the regency era norms. Like making the maids as chaperone so that the plot can get spicy lol. And etc etc

- I know Taiki should be addressed as Mr. Sato or Mr. Taiki, but I want Sekai to address Taiki "Taiki". So be it.

- I wanted Yusei and Leiya to call their masters as "Master", idc if that didnt make sense.

NOTES regarding dressing style:

- Alpha Male wear suits, shirts, etc (just like men in general) the color is usually dark tone like black, beige, maroon etc.

- Alpha sleepwear: linen nightshirts and pants. Sometimes with robe.

- Alpha Female wear simple dresses (but not as frilly as Omega’s). They're also allowed to hold weapon on their hips.

- Omega Male wear suits and shirts too. They wear suit and pants, yes, but on their back, tied to the pants, there’s something like bustle skirt (you can google for reference). A lot of layers, frilly layers as the bustle skirt. Their clothes also tend to be more colorful and bright. And the suit tend to have wide collar, showing off their décolletage/cleavage.

- Omega sleepwear: a comfortable white cotton or linen chemises/shifts, or long "night rails".

- Omega Female wear cute frilly dresses (just like women in general).

AGE LIST:

- Taiki 20

- Sekai 25

- Keito 17

- Yusei 23

- Leiya 27

- Sawanatsu 24

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This is probably my biggest fanfiction I've ever written in my life.

Truth is, I've been writing this story since like... a year ago (maybe more? I don't remember LOL), maybe almost 2 years!

Personally I don't want to publish something I haven't finished writing (because somehow it decreases my will to continue(?)) so I prevented myself from doing so. And finally I finished it! 😭

If someone ever read this fic, thank you. I would appreciate if you leave comment on chapters you find good or had impact on you, or just leave comment at the last chapter is good too.

Either way, enjoy the story! ❤️

The royal invitation arrived a month ago, sealed in gold wax stamped with the Queen's crest. Today, by half past one, the Sato household had descended into chaos.

"Hold still, Master Taiki. I cannot pin this if you keep fidgeting."

Yusei's fingers worked deftly along the back of Taiki's waistcoat, fastening the rows of pearl buttons that trailed down to where the bustle layers began—tiers of cream and soft peach silk.

"The collar sits too wide." Taiki tugged at the swooping neckline of his shirt, pale collarbone on full display. "I feel like I'm offering my throat to every Alpha in the room."

"That is rather the point, darling."

Takahiro swept in through the doorway. She circled her son, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his shoulders and tilting his chin up.

"Chin high. Always chin high. Let them look up at you, not down."

"Mother, you're going to smudge the—"

"Hush." Takahiro tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear and stepped back, pressing her hand to her chest. Her eyes glistened. "Oh, my boy. You look exquisite."

A loud crunch broke the moment.

Keito sat cross-legged on the chaise in the corner, a plate of biscuits balanced on her knee. The short sword at her hip clinked against the wooden frame as she leaned forward, grinning through a mouthful of shortbread.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, brother. Six months from now you'll be some Alpha's handful of a wife, arguing over breakfast menus and embroidery patterns."

Taiki's brown eyes narrowed. "I will end you."

"Children." Takahiro didn't even turn around. "Not today."

Keito stuffed another biscuit in her mouth, grinning.

Akira leaned against the frame with his arms crossed, dark hair swept back. His jaw worked once. Twice. His gaze fixed on his son, dressed and gleaming, ready to be presented to a ballroom full of Alphas he did not yet know.

Takahiro appeared beside him, threading her arm through his.

"He's ready, my love."

"I know." Akira's voice came out rougher than he intended. "That's what worries me."

She squeezed his arm. "He has your stubbornness and my wit. Heaven help whoever courts him."

Akira exhaled through his nose. "Heaven help us."

The carriage waited in the courtyard. Akira handed Takahiro up the step first, then offered his hand to Taiki.

Keito stood on the front steps beside Yusei, waving with enthusiasm.

"Bring home a rich one, brother! Preferably one who can tolerate your snoring!"

"I don't snore!"

Taiki glared through the carriage window. Keito doubled over laughing, clutching Yusei's sleeve for support, while Yusei offered the departing carriage a composed bow.

The wheels began to turn. Taiki sank back against the cushioned seat, cheeks flushed pink, and smoothed his hands over the layered silk in his lap.

Akira watched him from across the carriage. Takahiro placed her hand over her husband's knee.

The road to the palace stretched ahead.

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Across the city in the quieter district, the Yamamoto estate sat in its usual silence.

Sekai stepped inside, dust still clinging to the hem of his dark coat, a leather bag slung over one shoulder. His dark hair, cropped short and unruly, stuck up at odd angles from weeks aboard a ship. He dropped the bag at the foot of the stairs and stood in the foyer.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the east corridor.

"Sekai!"

Tetsuya collided with his son's chest, arms wrapping tight around Sekai's torso, face pressed against his shoulder. The crown of his brown hair barely reached Sekai's chin.

Sekai stood rigid for a moment. Then his free hand came up and rested on his mother's back.

"Mother."

"Four months." Tetsuya pulled back just enough to grip Sekai's arms, scanning his face. His thumbs pressed into the fabric of Sekai's coat sleeves. "Four months without a single letter. You've lost weight. Your eyes are shadowed. Have you been sleeping? Eating? And what is this—" He plucked at a frayed thread on Sekai's collar. "You look like a dockworker."

"I'm fine."

"You are not fine. You're thin and you smell like a fishing vessel." Tetsuya pulled him by the wrist toward the drawing room. "Sit. I'll have tea brought. And soup. You need soup."

"Mother—"

"Sit."

Sekai sat.

The drawing room hadn't changed. The same cream wallpaper, the same portrait of his father in military dress above the mantel, the same arrangement of dried flowers his mother refreshed every season.

Tetsuya settled across from him, studying Sekai.

"Tell me everything. Where did you go this time?"

"The southern coast. Then the islands beyond Mara Strait."

"And?"

"And it was... quiet. Good weather. I studied some cartography with a retired navigator."

"I'm glad you're home safe." Tetsuya reached across and squeezed Sekai's hand. The warmth of his grip lingered. "You look handsome beneath all that sea grime. Once you've bathed, you'll be yourself again."

Sekai smiled tiredly.

Tea arrived and Tetsuya poured it slowly. He slid the cup toward Sekai and let silence settle between them.

Then, as if the thought had only just occurred to him—which it certainly had not—Tetsuya glanced toward the window.

"Oh. I nearly forgot. There's a royal ball this evening."

Sekai stopped drinking.

"The Queen's opening celebration for the Marriage Season. The invitation has been sitting on your father's desk for a month." Tetsuya sipped his own tea. "I had planned to attend, of course. Your father would accompany me if he were here, but…"

He let the sentence trail. His gaze drifted to the portrait above the mantel. Kenchi's painted eyes stared back, stern in full military dress.

"Three months now since he last came home. The border keeps him. Letters come, yes, but letters don't sit across from you at supper, do they?" His voice didn't waver, but his words grew heavier. "The house echoes, Sekai. I hear my own footsteps in every room."

Sekai set his cup down.

"Mother, I just walked through the door."

"And I'm grateful. Truly." Tetsuya met his eyes. "Which is precisely why I'm asking you, before you disappear into your room for three days and emerge only to tell me you've booked passage to some other distant shore—come with me tonight. One evening. That's all."

"A royal ball." Sekai's voice flattened. "During the Marriage Season."

"You don't need to dance. You don't need to do anything but stand beside me."

"The ton will talk."

"The ton always talks. They'll talk whether you're there or not. At least if you're present, they can admire your jawline while they gossip."

Sekai stared at his mother. Tetsuya stared back, eyes wide and unblinking.

Sekai exhaled through his nose. He still felt the weight of every ballroom he'd avoided, every whispered name he'd pretended not to hear.

Monster.

Four years, and the word still sat between his chest.

But his mother sat across from him in lavender silk, alone in a house too large for one person, asking for a single evening.

"One evening."

Tetsuya's face broke open a smile.

"One evening. I promise."

"No introductions."

"None."

"No steering me toward eligible Omegas."

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind." Tetsuya stood, already moving toward the door. "Now bathe. I'll have your evening suit pressed. The black one with the silver threading, I think. It brings out your—"

"Mother."

Tetsuya paused at the threshold and turned.

"Thank you, darling."

He vanished down the corridor before Sekai could change his mind.

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The royal ballroom smelled of perfume and ambition. Every noble family in attendance positioned for the evening that would set the tone for the entire Marriage Season.

"I heard Lord Fujiwara's daughter presented beautifully at court last week. Surely she's the frontrunner."

"Nonsense. The Hayashi omega—have you seen him? Like a porcelain doll. Doesn't speak unless spoken to. The Queen adores that."

"A proper omega. That's what wins the Diamond."

The whispers ran through the crowd, from one noble to the next. Everyone had their prediction. The Diamond of the Season—the Queen's personal selection of the most desirable omega debuting that year—was more than a title.

The eligible omegas stood in a line along the ballroom's eastern wall, arranged by family name. Omega girls in clouds of lace and ribbons. Omega boys in layered bustle skirts, their wide collars displaying elegant collarbones, bright against the dark suits of the alphas watching from across the room.

Taiki stood among them, spine straight, chin level. His suit was cream and pale gold, the bustle layers behind him in soft ruffles. His brown hair curled against his forehead, slightly unruly despite his mother's best efforts with a comb. His hands clasped in front of him.

The Queen descended the dais.

She moved slowly, her gaze sweeping each omega as she passed. She paused before Lord Fujiwara's daughter. A murmur rippled. She moved on. Past the Hayashi omega. Past three more. Four.

She stopped in front of Taiki.

The Queen lifted one gloved hand and pressed it to Taiki's cheek. His brown eyes went wide.

"Sato Taiki. This season's Diamond."

The ballroom erupted. Not in applause—in whispers.

"Him?"

"The Sato boy? The one who argued with Lord Mori about trade policy at last year's garden party?"

"A rebellious omega as the Diamond? Surely not—"

"He's opinionated. Everyone knows it."

Behind Taiki, Takahiro's hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes glittered. She seized Akira's arm and squeezed until her knuckles whitened. Akira stood frozen, lips parted, the proud shock on his face.

"Go, darling." Takahiro's whisper cut through the noise. She pressed her palm to Taiki's back.

Taiki stepped forward. His legs wavered. He lowered himself into a bow before the Queen.

The Queen smiled, patted his head and turned away.

The crowd immediately scattered in different circles, and the eligible alphas approached Taiki.

"Mr. Sato, what an honor. May I have the pleasure of—"

"Mr. Sato, my family would be delighted to host you for tea—"

"Mr. Sato, if I may say, the Queen's judgment is impeccable this year—"

Taiki smiled politely. He answered each graciously, and yet not a single flutter of his lashes. One darely suggested omegas rarely received such honors for their minds. Taiki's smile sharpened, and the alpha excused himself.

By the ninth introduction, the corners of his mouth ached.

By the twelfth, his patience had worn out.

He slipped sideways through a gap between two gossiping nobles, walked through the crowd until the voices blurred.

The food table sat near the far column, attended by a lone servant and two elderly betas deep in conversation about horses. Taiki reached it, gripped the table's edge, and exhaled.

A figure stood at the far end of the table. Dark suit, silver threading. One hand wrapped around a glass of wine he hadn't touched.

Taiki blinked.

"Lord Sekai."

The man turned. Dark eyes settled on Taiki. A beat passed.

"Taiki."

"You've come back." Taiki straightened, smoothing the front of his waistcoat out of habit. He dipped his head in a polite bow. "I didn't know you were in the city."

"Arrived this afternoon." Sekai glanced past him toward the glittering ballroom. "Shouldn't the Diamond of the Season be out there, drowning in compliments and dance invitations? Rather than hiding behind the dessert trays?"

Heat prickled up Taiki's neck. "I'm not hiding. I'm... selecting a pastry."

Sekai's gaze dropped to Taiki's empty hands. One brow lifted.

Taiki grabbed a small cake from the nearest tray and held it up.

"There."

The corner of Sekai's mouth moved slightly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the ballroom's orchestra behind them. Taiki set the cake down on a napkin, untouched.

"It's been a long time, Lord Sekai."

"It has."

"I think—" Taiki tilted his head, counting. "I was five? The last time we were in the same room."

"You were five. I was ten." Sekai swirled the wine in his glass without drinking. "Then I left for the academy, and by the time I returned, your family had sent you off to finishing school."

"We kept missing each other. Our parents exchanged letters about it, apparently. Mother found it tragic." Taiki's lips curved.

"Fifteen years." Sekai considered this. "Fate seemed rather determined to keep us apart."

"Or simply indifferent."

"I had a feeling, even then, that you'd present as omega." Sekai looked at him in nostalgic gaze. "You were always tucked behind your mother's skirts. Clutching the fabric with both fists. Peering out shyly."

The flush hit Taiki's cheeks before he could stop it. "I did not—"

"You did."

"And I remember you." Taiki crossed his arms, chin lifting. "Glued to the sword rack in my father's study. They had to pry you away. Your mother apologized three separate times. You refused to leave until someone let you hold one."

Sekai's jaw tightened before he let out an amused huff.

Taiki studied him in silence. The boy he remembered had been reckless and loud. The man before him now—

Broad shoulders. The silver threading traced the cut of his chest. His hands were large. His face had sharpened into clean, hard angles. The jaw. The brow. Those dark, unreadable eyes.

Taiki's gaze lingered a fraction too long on the column of Sekai's throat, where his collar sat against his skin.

He looked away. Picked up the small cake again, and set it back down.

"Your parents must have valued your education greatly," Sekai said conversationally. "Sending an omega away to study. An interesting choice."

Taiki's fingers stilled on the napkin. "My parents believed I deserved the same opportunities as any Alpha or Beta. And they were right."

"Of course." Sekai took his first sip of wine. "You've certainly grown fine and bold. Though I'll confess—I didn't expect this bold. Far too brave for an omega wandering a ballroom full of unmated Alphas."

Taiki's spine went rigid. The polite warmth drained from his face, replaced by something sharp.

"I beg your pardon?"

"An unmated omega should exercise a measure of caution." Sekai's voice remained level, almost bored. "Boldness draws attention. Not all of it favorable."

"And what would you have me do? Simper? Curtsy? Hide behind someone's skirts—since you seem so fond of that image?"

"I just want you to be careful."

"No, you want me to be small." Taiki stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only Sekai could hear. "You don't know me, Lord Sekai. You knew a five-year-old child. Do not presume that fifteen years of absence entitles you to an opinion on how I conduct myself."

"It's not an opinion. It's an observation." Sekai met his gaze without flinching. "The Alphas around me talked about how arrogant you were, since apparently you rejected them all even though you were the Diamond of the Season. I call that reckless."

"And you are disdainful." Taiki's brown eyes burned. "You've been back in this city for a handful of hours and you've already decided what an omega should and shouldn't be. How utterly predictable of an Alpha."

Sekai's expression didn't change, but his jaw hardened.

The orchestra shifted. A bright chord rang through the ballroom—the signal.

The first dance.

Couples began moving toward the floor. Alphas extended hands, Omegas accepted them. The crowd parted and rearranged itself, forming the long parallel lines of the opening promenade.

Taiki turned sharply on his heel, bustle layers swishing behind him, and walked toward the nearest Alpha who wasn't Sekai—a tall, sandy-haired gentleman who looked startled at being chosen so decisively. Taiki placed his hand in the man's palm and took his position in the line.

Across the floor, Sekai offered his hand to a dark-haired omega girl who had been hovering near the column. She accepted with a trembling curtsy while he barely looked at her.

The music began.

The promenade carried them forward—step, turn, exchange. Partners shifted. 

Step. Turn. A Beta lord with sweating palms. Step. Turn. A silver-haired Alpha who smelled of tobacco.

Step. Turn.

Lemon.

Taiki's hand landed on Sekai's chest. Sekai's hand settled on Taiki's waist.

The contact electrified both of them.

Sekai's palm pressed broad and warm against the curve of Taiki's side, fingers spanning the silk of his waistcoat. Taiki's hand rested flat against the dark fabric across Sekai's chest.

They fit. The height, the angle, the blended lemon and honey scents.

Sekai's grip tightened. His thumb shifted, tracing a slow line along the edge of Taiki's waist, drawing him closer by a fraction. The space between their bodies disappeared a little.

Taiki's lips parted as a soft, involuntary gasp escaped him.

Because in all the hands that had held him through etiquette drills and practice dances, and the twelve Alphas who'd pressed their palms to his earlier this evening, none of them had felt like this. None of them had made the bones beneath his skin hummed contently.

Here. This one. Here. This Alpha.

Taiki huffed and stubbornly crushed his own instincts. He glared up into Sekai's face.

Sekai glared back.

Lemon and honey blended together in the space between them, bright and sweet. Their bodies moved flawlessly, but their expressions was totally hating each other.

The music went toward its final phrase. The last melody carried them through one slow, spiraling turn—Taiki's bustle layers fanning out like petals, Sekai's hand firm at the small of his back—before the dance ended.

They separated. Taiki bowed formally and Sekai returned it.

As Taiki about to open his mouth, Sekai turned and walked away.

Taiki stood alone on the dance floor. His palm where he touched Sekai's chest tingled. His waist burned where those fingers had pressed.

He smoothed his waistcoat and rejoined the crowd.

The drawing room of the Sato household smelled like a perfumer's shop had exploded.

Three bouquets of roses. Two boxes of imported chocolates. One truly bewildering arrangement of peacock feathers that Keito had already dubbed "the monstrosity" before the first caller even sat down.

Takahiro perched on the window seat across the room, embroidery hoop in hand, watching the proceedings quietly. Keito sat beside her, sword balanced across her knees—technically improper for a drawing room, but no one in the Sato household bothered correcting her anymore. Her dark eyes tracked each Alpha who entered.

"Mr. Nishida," the footman announced.

The first Alpha of the day swept in. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, tailored in charcoal. He looked very confident and was never told no in his life.

Taiki rose from his sofa, bustle layers rustling softly. His suit today was a pale cornflower blue, the wide collar exposing his collarbone.

"Mr. Nishida. How kind of you to call."

"Mr. Taiki." Nishida bowed, his gaze sweeping over Taiki from collar to hem. He settled into the chair opposite without waiting to be invited. "I must say, you look even more fetching in daylight than you did at the ball. The candlelight did you no justice."

"You're too generous."

"Not at all. I pride myself on honesty." Nishida crossed one ankle over the other and leaned back. "I confess I was surprised the Diamond hadn't already been claimed. An omega of your... caliber. Unchaperoned by an Alpha? Your father must be a lenient man."

Taiki's smile didn't waver. "My father trusts my judgment."

"Admirable. Though one does wonder whether an omega's judgment is best relied upon in matters of—" Nishida waved a hand vaguely, as though searching for a polite word and giving up the search. "Consequence."

Across the room, Keito's fingers tightened on her sword hilt.

Taiki tilted his head. The gesture looked innocent. It was not.

"Matters of consequence," he repeated softly. "Such as?"

"Marriage. Finance. The running of a household beyond menu selections and flower arrangements." Nishida smiled as though he'd said something charming. "You needn't trouble yourself with such burdens, Mr. Taiki. That's what an Alpha is for."

"How fortunate, then, that I can already manage all of those things." Taiki's brown eyes held steady. "Including the menu. Which reminds me—would you care for tea? I selected the blend myself. A matter of tremendous consequence, I assure you."

Nishida blinked and his smile stiffened.

From the window seat, Takahiro pressed her embroidery hoop to her mouth to muffle a sound that was definitely not a cough.

The tea arrived. Nishida drank it quickly and left within ten minutes, his pride visibly dented.

The second caller arrived before the cups were cleared.

"Lord Fujiwara," the footman intoned.

This one was leaner. Sharp cheekbones, pale eyes, an almost delicate frame for an Alpha.

"Mr. Taiki." He did not bow. He inclined his head—barely—and settled into the chair with much judgement. "Charming home. Quite... cozy."

Taiki caught the word cozy and translated it silently to small.

"We find it comfortable, Lord Fujiwara."

"I'm sure you do." Fujiwara produced a silk handkerchief and dabbed at his nose. "The scent is rather overwhelming, I must say. All these flowers from your other callers. How many have come this week? A dozen? Two?"

"I haven't counted."

"No, I imagine you wouldn't. Omegas do get rather overwhelmed by numbers."

Keito made a sound like a kettle reaching boil. Takahiro placed one calming hand on her daughter's knee without looking away from her embroidery.

Taiki set down his teacup with a porcelain click.

"Fourteen," he said.

Fujiwara raised one eyebrow.

"Fourteen callers. This week alone." Taiki smiled, all teeth and honey. "I counted after all. The numbers didn't overwhelm me in the slightest."

Fujiwara's pale eyes narrowed. His visit lasted eight minutes. He did not finish his tea.

The third arrival made Keito groan audibly.

"Mr. Kuroda."

Stocky. Red-faced. Loud before he even crossed the threshold.

"Mr. Taiki! A pleasure, a genuine pleasure!" Kuroda seized Taiki's hand and pumped it with enthusiasm bordering on assault. His Alpha scent—heavy pine, oppressively thick—rolled through the drawing room. "I told my mother after the ball, I said, Mother, I have found the omega I shall marry. And here I am!"

Taiki extracted his hand. His fingers ached. "You honor me, Mr. Kuroda. Though perhaps we might begin with conversation before declarations."

"What's to discuss?" Kuroda dropped into the chair so heavily it scraped backward on the floor. "You're the Diamond. I'm the eldest son of the Kuroda family. My estate has forty rooms. You'd want for nothing."

"Except a say in the matter, apparently."

Kuroda laughed boisterously. "Oh, you're spirited! I like that. My mother warned me the Diamond had a mouth on him, but I find it charming. Truly. In an omega, a little fire is... entertaining."

"A little fire," Taiki repeated.

"Just enough to keep things interesting at supper. Not so much that it becomes—well." Kuroda waved a meaty hand. "You understand. An omega must know when to speak and when to let his Alpha guide the conversation. Balance, Mr. Taiki. That's the foundation of a good match."

The drawing room went very quiet.

Taiki's brown eyes widened—the doe-eyed expression that made suitors across London lose their composure. But the warmth behind it had frozen solid.

"Mr. Kuroda. I appreciate your candor. Truly. It saves us both a great deal of time." He folded his hands in his lap. "Because I can assure you, with absolute certainty, that the fire you find entertaining is not something I modulate for anyone's comfort. Least of all at supper."

Kuroda's ruddy face went redder, face shifting in anger.

From the window seat, Keito stood up, sword glinting at her hip.

"I believe Mr. Kuroda was just leaving," she announced brightly.

Kuroda looked from the omega on the sofa to the Alpha girl with the blade and apparently decided that forty rooms were not, in fact, worth the trouble. He stood, mumbled something about reconsidering his options, and departed without bowing.

The front door clicked shut.

Taiki exhaled. His shoulders dropped a fraction. The practiced smile dissolved, leaving behind a mouth pressed thin with exhaustion.

Keito flopped back onto the window seat. "That last one smelled like a pine forest caught fire."

"Keito."

"He did."

Takahiro set aside her embroidery and studied her son from across the room. Her eyes missed nothing—not the tension in his jaw, not the way his fingers had curled tight in his lap, not the faint crease between his brows.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Taiki closed the drawing room door behind the last caller—a broad-necked Alpha whose eyes had never once risen above Taiki's collarbone during the entire visit—and pressed his forehead against the wood.

"I am a person," he said to the door. "A whole, complete person with thoughts and opinions and a functioning mind. And yet every Alpha who walks through that door looks at me like I'm a platter of fine desserts."

From the sofa, Keito crunched loudly into a candied almond.

"To be fair, brother, you are dressed like a pastry." She gestured at his bustle layers with the hand holding her snack. "All that silk. The frills. You're practically begging someone to take a bite."

"I will throw this cushion at your head."

"You'd miss. Omegas have terrible aim."

"I will not miss."

Keito grinned and stuffed another almond into her mouth, legs tucked beneath her on the sofa.

Takahiro rose from the window seat, setting her embroidery aside. She crossed the room and settled beside Taiki on the sofa, smoothing a curl of brown hair from his forehead.

"Darling. Did none of them interest you at all?" Her voice careful. "Not a single one? What about at the ball—did anyone catch your eye there?"

Taiki's mouth opened and closed.

The ballroom flickered behind his eyes. The suitors. The Queen's gloved hand on his cheek. The twelve introductions that blurred into one parade of you're quite pretty for an opinionated omega.

Lemon. A broad hand at his waist. Dark eyes flat with judgment.

Far too brave for an omega.

Taiki scoffed.

"No one was interesting. But someone was irritating." He sank deeper into the cushions, arms crossed. "I ran into Lord Sekai at the ball. He's returned from wherever it is he disappears to, and he's grown into the most disdainful, insufferable Alpha I've ever had the misfortune of speaking with. He called me reckless. A reckless omega. As though my existing in a ballroom without a chaperone was some kind of personal affront to his—"

A clatter. Keito's almond dish hit the side table with a bang as she launched upright.

"Wait—Lord Sekai is back?"

Taiki turned. "You know him?"

"Know him?" Keito's whole body vibrated. "Brother, Lord Sekai is the reason I picked up a sword. I met him years ago at a ball—I was twelve, bored senseless, wandering the terrace. He was out there alone and he actually talked to me. Not the way adults talk to children. He talked to me like I was a real person." Her hands moved as she spoke.

"After that, whenever we crossed paths, he'd show me sword forms. Proper ones! Footwork, grip, the angle of the wrist on a parry. He's been tutoring some of the young Alpha children in the city—he's brilliant with a blade. You should see his—"

"You shouldn't go near him."

Keito blinked.

Taiki's voice came out firmer than he intended. "He's arrogant, Keito. The kind of Alpha who looks at an omega and sees something to be managed."

"That doesn't sound like Lord Sekai at all."

Takahiro's quiet voice cut through the rising argument. Both children turned.

"Dear." She looked at Taiki. "You know that Sekai is Tetsuya's son. Tetsuya, who has tea with me every fortnight. Sekai is not the man you're imagining."

Taiki frowned. "Honestly, Mother, I don't really remember him. The last time I saw him properly I was five. I have a vague impression of a loud boy obsessed with swords and nothing else." He picked at a thread on his sleeve.

"And then last week, at the ball—that was the first time we've spoken in fifteen years. The man who stood in front of me bore no resemblance to any memory I have."

Taiki leaned into the sofa cushions, arms crossed.

"He just stood there by the dessert table, Mother. That suit—black with silver threading—cut so sharp." His nose wrinkled. "And his scent, lemon. The kind that hits you before you've even turned around, and then it just—stays. In your hair. On your clothes. I could still smell it in the carriage home."

Takahiro's hands folded neatly in her lap. She said nothing.

"The man is a tower. His shoulders are so broad they block out the candlelight. It's absurd. No person needs to be that wide."

Keito snorted from across the room. Taiki ignored her.

"Then his voice." His lip curled. "Low and flat. Like he couldn't be bothered to inflect. He told me I was reckless, that I should exercise caution—as though I'm some fawn stumbling through a wolf den and not the Queen's chosen Diamond."

His fingers tightened on his own sleeve.

"And his face. His face, Mother. That jaw could cut glass. His eyes are so dark you can't read a single thing behind them. He looked at me like I was a problem."

Takahiro's eyebrow rose.

"Then the dance." Taiki's voice roughened. "The promenade shifted partners and suddenly there he was, and his hand—" He held up his own hand, staring at the palm. "His hand covered nearly my entire waist. The span of those fingers—I could feel every single one, pressed against my—"

He stopped.

His mouth hung open around a word that never arrived.

Color bloomed up his throat in a wave. His brown eyes widened with the dawning horror.

"He—I mean—it was unpleasant. The dancing was—we moved well together, but only because he's technically proficient. That's all. His lead was firm and his frame was steady and our steps matched perfectly, but that's—that's just—"

His jaw snapped shut. The flush reached his ears.

Takahiro regarded her son. Her mouth curled a slow, knowing smile.

"Darling. For someone who found Lord Sekai so thoroughly irritating, you seem to recall him in remarkable detail." She tilted her head, mirroring the gesture Taiki himself used on unwelcome suitors. "Most people forget what irritates them. You speak as though it haunted you."

Taiki's blush deepened to the color of ripe strawberries. 

"Because he is THAT irritating!" The words came out too loud. "A person remembers things that upset them, Mother! It's—it's a natural response to—to unpleasantness!"

Takahiro laughed.

From the sofa, Keito tossed an almond into the air and caught it in her mouth. "Brother, I've never once heard you describe Father's boring trade associates by their jawline."

"I will end you both."

Takahiro patted Taiki's knee and rose to her feet.

Taiki looked up. "Where are you going, Mother?"

"Oh." Takahiro smoothed her skirts. "I just need to pay a visit to one of my friends. It's been too long since we've had a proper chat." A giggle escaped her lips as she moved toward the door. "Ryusei, have the carriage brought round, please."

The maid curtsied and hurried down the corridor.

Keito's almond-chewing slowed. Her eyes narrowed, tracking her mother's retreating figure.

"She's definitely up to something." Keito pointed at the empty doorway with a candied almond. "And you, brother, just gave her ammunition."

Taiki buried his burning face in a cushion and refused to surface.

Three days later, the Sato carriage rolled to a stop at the entrance of Thornbury Gardens.

Taiki stepped down and immediately spotted it.

Two picnic spreads laid out on the same stretch of lawn. The Sato blanket, cornflower blue, laden with cold meats and fruit. And twenty paces away, a darker spread in forest green, bearing the Yamamoto family crest embroidered on the napkins.

Tetsuya was already seated on the green blanket, pouring lemonade. He looked up as the Sato family approached and pressed a hand to his chest with theatrical surprise.

"Takahiro! What a coincidence!"

"Tetsuya! I had no idea you'd be here today! What are the odds?"

Taiki's eyes rolled so far back he nearly saw his own skull.

The two mothers descended upon each other. Their hands clasped and exchanged kisses on each other's cheek.

Sekai stood behind Tetsuya's blanket in a dark coat. He looked like a man who had been dragged from his study.

Their eyes met across the grass.

Taiki looked away first. He busied himself adjusting the pale yellow layers of his bustle skirt and sat on the Sato blanket.

Takahiro and Tetsuya had already migrated to a bench beneath the nearest oak with teacups. Every few seconds, one of them glanced back toward the younger generation.

"Keito, come sit with us, darling," Takahiro called.

Keito had already launched herself off the blanket.

Not toward the mothers.

"Lord Sekai!"

She crossed the lawn at a half-run, her simple green dress whipping around her calves, the short sword at her hip bouncing with each stride. She stopped in front of him, grinning so wide it split her face.

"Do you still train? Have you learned new forms? I've been practicing the third guard position you showed me—my footwork is much better now, truly—"

She grabbed his sleeve with both hands, tugging it with enthusiasm.

Something cracked in Sekai's expression. A real, unguarded smile broke across his face.

"You've grown, Keito. Last I saw you, you barely reached my elbow."

"I barely reach your shoulder now, so the improvement is marginal." Keito beamed up at him. "But I'm faster. I promise. I've been sparring with Father's guards."

On the Sato blanket, Taiki's strawberry hovered halfway to his mouth. His gaze had drifted sideways without permission and landed on that smile.

He looked at Keito with such kindness that for one second, Taiki forgot what his own name was.

Then he remembered, and mentally slapped himself so hard he nearly bit the strawberry in half.

He stood, brushed off his trousers, and marched across the grass.

"Keito." His hand closed around his sister's wrist. "Come away from there."

"What? Why?"

"You shouldn't cling to—" Taiki tugged. Keito didn't budge. "This man is not someone you should be—"

"Lord Sekai is the finest swordsman I've ever seen!" Keito wrenched her arm free. "He taught me more in three afternoons than Father's instructor managed in a year. I want to be like him someday!"

Taiki's brown eyes widened. "You cannot make this disdainful Alpha your example, Keito!"

Sekai's freshly arrived smile vanished.

From the bench, Takahiro cupped her hands around her mouth. "Keito! Come here, sweetheart—I want to show you the roses Tetsuya brought!"

Keito huffed, cast one longing glance at Sekai, and stomped toward the mothers.

Silence dropped between them.

Taiki and Sekai stared at each other. Lemon clashed against honey in the warm afternoon air.

Taiki broke first. He turned on his heel and walked toward the garden path without a word.

He made it past the lavender border, past the stone fountain. His shoulders loosened. The scent of grass and wildflowers replaced lemon, and his pulse began to settle.

Then he heard footsteps.

Taiki glanced sideways. Sekai fell into step beside him as though he'd been invited, hands clasped behind his back.

"Disdainful Alpha." Sekai's voice landed flat and dry. "That's what you're teaching your sister about me."

"I'm protecting her judgment."

"From what, precisely? A man who spent two years showing her proper sword technique while her older brother was away at school?" Sekai's dark eyes cut sideways. "You weren't there, Taiki. She had no one who took her interest seriously. Every Alpha in your circle patted her head and told her swords were unbecoming. I didn't."

Taiki's stride faltered.

"That doesn't make you a suitable role model."

"I'm an excellent role model." Sekai huffed. "I'm educated. I'm skilled. I've studied military strategy, cartography, and three languages. I can hold a blade in either hand and win. What, exactly, disqualifies me?"

"Your temperament."

"My temperament is composed."

"Your temperament is glacial. You looked at me at that ball like I was an equation you couldn't be bothered to solve."

Sekai stopped walking. Taiki stopped three paces ahead, turning back.

"I looked after your sister." Sekai's voice dropped quieter. "When you were gone. When she was young and fierce and no one in your family's circle knew what to do with an Alpha girl who wanted a sword instead of a husband. So perhaps, before you warn her away from me, you might consider saying thank you."

Taiki's lips parted. The retort he'd prepared dissolved on his tongue.

His chin lifted.

"Well, I didn't know."

"Now you do."

"That still doesn't excuse how you spoke to me at the ball."

"And nothing excuses calling me disdainful in front of your sister."

They glared at each other across. Neither yielding, neither stepping back.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The Sato dining room was warm with candlelight, silver clinked against plates. The long table sat under roasted pheasant, braised vegetables, fresh bread, and three different kinds of pudding that Takahiro had personally chosen.

Kenchi sat in front of Akira, his military posture softened. The stern lines of his face eased as he leaned forward.

"The northern border has been quiet this season. Too quiet, if you ask the generals."

"They always say that." Akira swirled his glass. "Quiet makes military men nervous. They forget what peace looks like."

"Peace looks like budget cuts to the infantry." Kenchi's mouth twitched. "Which is why I've spent the last month writing proposals no one in Parliament wants to read."

"You should let me review them. I have a talent for making dull things sound urgent."

"You have a talent for making everything sound urgent. Remember the letter you sent me about your hunting dog's bad knee?"

Akira pressed a hand to his chest. "That was a crisis of the highest order."

At the other end, Takahiro spooned more vegetables onto Tetsuya's plate without asking.

"This blue suit of yours—new?"

Tetsuya touched his napkin to his lips. "Kenchi brought the fabric from the border towns. I had them made up last month."

"The embroidery is exquisite. You must give me the name of your seamstress."

"Only if you share your recipe for this pheasant. I've been trying to get mine this tender for years."

Takahiro beamed and launched into details of brining techniques.

Between these two warm conversations, sat a cold front.

Taiki cut his pheasant into squares as mannered. Sekai ate in silence, his gaze fixed on his plate. For the first ten minutes, they managed admirable civility.

"Would you care for more bread, Lord Sekai?"

"No. Thank you."

"The wine?"

"I'm well, thank you."

Silence. The peace continued.

Then Sekai reached for the salt at the same moment Taiki did. Their fingers brushed. Taiki snatched his hand back as if it burned.

"After you." Sekai pushed the salt cellar forward. His expression betrayed nothing.

"How generous." Taiki took it. "I didn't realize Alphas understood the concept."

Sekai's fork paused. "We understand plenty. Including when an omega is picking a fight over salt."

"I wasn't picking a fight. I was making an observation."

"Your observations have a peculiar habit of sounding like accusations."

Taiki set down his knife. "Perhaps if Alphas didn't behave as though the world owed them deference, omegas wouldn't need to point it out."

"And perhaps if a certain omega spent less time delivering lectures at dinner tables, he'd notice that not every Alpha in the room is his enemy."

"I never said enemy. I said arrogant. There's a distinction, though I understand the confusion—arrogant people rarely recognize themselves."

Sekai's dark eyes narrowed. He set his own knife down, mirroring Taiki. "You speak very boldly for someone who doesn't understand the dangers of bold speech."

"Oh, there it is." Taiki's brown eyes sparked. "The veiled threat. How very Alpha of you."

"It is not a threat. It's a warning. The society you have just entered doesn't reward sharp tongues, Taiki. It punishes them."

"Only when the tongue belongs to an omega. When an Alpha speaks their mind, they call it leadership."

Keito's head swiveled between them, chin propped on both fists. A grin split her face.

"Brother has a point, Lord Sekai."

"Stay out of this, Keito," Taiki hissed.

"But Lord Sekai also has a point," Keito continued, ignoring him completely. "Society is rather unfair about it. That's why I carry a sword instead of opinions."

Takahiro's spoon hit her bowl with a sharp clink.

"Children." She smiles warmly but at the same time terrifyinngly. "Eat. Your. Dinner."

Taiki's mouth snapped shut. Sekai straightened and picked up his fork. Keito ducked her head, still grinning into her napkin.

At the far end, Kenchi caught Akira's eye. A low chuckle escaped the military man's chest. Akira shook his head, lips pressed together and raised his wine glass in a silent toast.

The Harrington family's garden party sprawled across three terraced lawns. Lady Harrington, a beta woman of considerable wealth had outdone herself. Ivy-wrapped trellises framed the main promenade, and a string quartet played beneath a white pavilion near the fountain.

Takahiro spotted Tetsuya near the second terrace, standing beside a table laden with petit fours. She adjusted her gloves and glided over.

"Tetsuya! What a surprise."

Tetsuya's mouth curved. "Takahiro. I had no idea you would be attending."

They exchanged a look that lasted too long to be innocent.

Within minutes, the two omega mothers had positioned themselves at the terrace railing, close enough that their respective families orbited the same patch of garden. Kenchi and Akira drifted together naturally. Keito vanished toward the refreshment table.

And Sekai, who had been standing at the far edge of the lawn with a glass of wine, found himself a meter from Sato Taiki.

Taiki noticed him first. The omega stood near a rose trellis, a glass of lemonade held at chest height. His bustle skirt tonight was layered in pale blue and cream. He wore a suit of soft ivory with a wide collar that bared the line of his collarbones, and his brown hair curled.

Their eyes met.

Neither moved. The string quartet shifted into a slower melody.

"Lord Sekai." Taiki greeted rather coldly.

"Taiki." Sekai inclined his head. His dark suit looked impecable, and the sharp cut of his jaw caught shadow. "Enjoying the party?"

"I was."

The corner of Sekai's mouth twitched. "Your enthusiasm is infectious."

Taiki sipped his lemonade and cast his gaze across the garden. "Lady Harrington has excellent taste in landscaping. The roses are particularly fine this year."

"You came to a social gathering to discuss horticulture?"

"I came to a social gathering to socialize. With a pleasant company, I hope." His brown eyes slid back to Sekai.

Something flickered on Sekai's expression—a mix of amusement and irritation.

"You know, for the diamond of the season, you spend a remarkable amount of energy being disagreeable."

Taiki's fingers tightened on his glass. "And for a man who claims to want nothing to do with omegas, you spend a remarkable amount of energy seeking mine out."

That jab landed. Sekai's expression stiffened.

"I didn't seek you out. Our mothers are five meters away pretending they aren't watching us."

Taiki glanced sideways. Takahiro and Tetsuya stood at the railing, heads bent together in conversation, pretending to be busy.

"Then walk away," Taiki said quietly. "No one is stopping you."

"I might say the same."

"I was here first."

Sekai exhaled through his nose. He swirled his wine. "You argue like a child sometimes."

The flush crept up Taiki's neck before he could stop it.

"And you provoke like one." He placed his lemonade glass on the nearest table. "Good evening, Lord Sekai. Do enjoy the roses."

He turned and walked away, bustle skirt swaying with each step.

Sekai watched him go. He then scoffed and drank his wine.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Taiki's shoes crunched on the gravel path as he walked deeper into Lady Harrington's garden. The lanterns were dim here, replaced by moonlight.

He needed air. Distance from lemon scent and those sharp words.

The path gradually narrowed before Taiki realized.

"Mr. Taiki."

He stopped. A figure stepped from behind the hedge junction—tall, dressed in a dark maroon suit.

Lord Fujii. Taiki recognized him from the parade of suitors who had visited the Sato household. Square jaw, heavy brow, smile that never reached his eyes.

"Lord Fujii." Taiki took a step backward. "I was just returning to the party."

"Were you?" Fujii moved closer. His frame blocked the path. "I've been hoping to catch a private word with you all evening. The diamond of the season, always surrounded. Never a moment alone."

"There's a reason for that." Taiki's voice held steady despite the chill crawling up his spine. "If you'll excuse me—"

Fujii's hand shot out. Fingers closed around Taiki's right wrist.

"Just a moment. That's all I ask."

"Release me."

Instead, Fujii's other hand reached for Taiki's neck. Taiki jerked back, but the grip on his wrist prevented him. Thick fingers found the scent patch behind his right ear and ripped.

The adhesive tore from skin. Taiki gasped—pain, then exposure. His honey scent spilled into the night air, sweet and heavy.

Fujii's nostrils flared. His eyes went half-lidded, and he drew a long, obscene breath through his nose.

"God. Even sweeter than I imagined."

"Don't—"

Both hands seized Taiki's shoulders. Fujii shoved him back against the hedge and buried his nose in the curve of Taiki's neck, right against the exposed gland. The alpha inhaled deeply again.

"Like warm honey straight from the comb," Fujii murmured against his skin. "You smell divine, Mr. Taiki. Wasted on those proper little drawing room visits—"

Taiki drove his knee upward. Fujii twisted, caught the blow on his thigh. Taiki wrenched sideways and threw an elbow toward the alpha's jaw. It connected—barely. Fujii's head snapped back, but his grip only tightened, fingers digging bruises into Taiki's shoulders.

Too strong. The weight difference was too much.

Panic clawed through Taiki's chest. His scent shifted—the honey souring, curdling to something bitter and acrid. Distress. He could smell it on himself and hated it.

"Spirited little thing—"

Then a hand clamped onto the back of Fujii's collar and hauled.

The alpha flew backward off Taiki. He stumbled, caught himself, and looked up into Yamamoto Sekai's face.

The growl that rolled from Sekai's chest was not human. It was low and primally Alpha. His lemon scent blazed through the garden, saturated with dominance so thick it made the hedgerows feel small.

Fujii's knees buckled.

Sekai seized his collar with one fist and dragged him close. Their faces inches apart.

"If you touch him again, I will break every finger on both your hands. Then I will ensure every household in this city knows exactly what kind of alpha corners unmated omegas in dark gardens." His grip twisted the fabric tighter. "Do you understand me, Lord Fujii?"

Fujii's face had gone white. He nodded frantically.

Sekai released him. The alpha stumbled backward and fled down the gravel path without looking back.

Sekai turned.

Taiki stood pressed against the hedge where Fujii had pinned him. His shoulders shook. His fingers curled at his sides, knuckles bone-white. The exposed scent gland behind his ear produced honey into the air—but wrong, all wrong. Bitter.

Sekai crossed the distance and pulled him in.

His arms wrapped around Taiki's frame. He drew Taiki close, closer, until there was no space left between them. Sekai angled his head down, his jaw grazing past Taiki's temple, his mouth hovering beside Taiki's right ear. Close enough that his breath stirred the brown curls there. Close enough that the exposed gland sat inches from his lips.

He didn't touch it. He held himself just above, letting his own scent pour—sharp citrus washing over the ugly remnants Fujii had left behind.

Taiki gasped. Color rushed up his neck, bloomed across his cheeks. But his body didn't pull away. His hands rose on instinct, fingers finding the fabric of Sekai's sleeves and clutching. His forehead dropped forward against Sekai's chest.

The lemon scent wrapped around him like armor. It seeped into his clothes, his hair, his skin, and everywhere it touched. Taiki's breath hitched once, twice, then slowed.

"You're safe now." Sekai murmured.

Taiki's fingers tightened on the sleeves.

"...I didn't ask to be saved." A whisper. Stubborn even now. "I can fight."

But his trembling softened as he spoke. His rigid spine loosened until he leaned into Sekai's chest with the full weight of himself. The bitter edge of his honey scent faded slowly.

Sekai snorted against his hair.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear, and I'm not saying it to lord anything over you." His hand on Taiki's waist tightened. "But there is a ceiling to how much strength an omega's body can produce. And it will never be enough against an alpha driven half-mad by rut." The annoyance in his voice sharpened. "Be grateful I was close enough to catch the scent of burnt honey before he—"

He stopped and his jaw clenched.

Taiki said nothing. His forehead pressed harder against Sekai's chest.

Silence filled the garden.

Sekai exhaled long.

"This is what I meant." His hand left Taiki's waist and rose to stroke his hair. "About being reckless and too bold. You are an omega, Taiki. The wrong alpha, in the wrong moment, will do things you cannot imagine—things that have nothing to do with what you said or didn't say, and everything to do with what they believe they're owed."

Taiki pulled back just enough to look up at him. His brown eyes burned.

"All alphas are the same." His voice low. "Every single one of them wants an omega too frightened to form a sentence. A pretty thing that curtsies and agrees and never, ever talks back."

Sekai's composure shattered.

"I have never said that!" His voice rang through the garden. "When? When have you ever heard those words leave my mouth?"

Taiki's lips parted, yet no sound came. His eyes widened in shock at Sekai's sudden raising tone and angry face.

The silence stretched between them again.

Sekai's breathing steadied. When he spoke again, his tone had lowered.

"What I mean is—if you want to speak your mind, if you want to argue and challenge and refuse to bend, then at least find a partner first. An alpha who will stand beside you. So that when you raise your voice, you aren't standing alone in a dark garden with no one between you and a man twice your size."

Taiki's lashes trembled, his breath shaking.

"No alpha wants an educated omega." Taiki whispered. "Every suitor who has visited my home would muzzle me the moment the wedding ink dried."

Sekai looked at him. Held his gaze.

"Well. I want my omega to be educated."

The garden went still.

"My children will be raised by their omega parent more than by me. They'll learn their first words, their first letters, their first ideas about the world from that person." His thumb traced Taiki's spine absent-mindedly. "I'd want that person to have something worth teaching."

Taiki's cheeks burned. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs so hard he was certain Sekai felt it through his chest. And he did feel something—Sekai's pulse, hammering just as fast beneath the composed surface, betraying everything that steady voice tried to hide.

Taiki's fingers curled deeper into the fabric of Sekai's sleeves.

They looked at each other. Something stirred in the space between them—warm as the sweet honey scent that now poured from Taiki's gland.

"Less stubborn, though," Sekai added.

Taiki blinked and laughed.

Real laugh. His eyes crinkled, his teeth flashed white, and his smile was blinding even in the half-dark.

Up close like this, it was devastating.

Sekai stared and his breath stalled. The teasing smirk on his lips softened, and he smiled back genuinely.

Sekai's hands lingered a beat too long. Then two. His fingers curled against Taiki's back before he forced them away, forced himself to step back.

The night air rushed cold into the space between them.

Taiki swayed slightly, as though his body protested the sudden absence of warmth. He caught himself and straightened his spine.

Sekai reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small rectangle—cream-colored brand new scent patch. He held it out without a word.

Taiki looked at the patch, then at Sekai, then at the patch again. Pink crept from his collar to his ears.

"Can you..." He swallowed. His fingers twisted in the fabric of his bustle skirt. "Put it on for me?"

Sekai's hand froze.

Something shifted in his eyes—surprise, then something darker, then iron control slamming down over both.

"Sure."

He stepped closer. The distance between them shrank to inches again.

Taiki tilted his head to the left, the movement bared the right side of his neck. The scent gland pulsed faintly, pouring that sweet, sweet honey into the garden air.

Sekai's throat moved visibly.

His fingers were steady. He pressed the fresh rectangle over the gland, smoothing it from one edge to the other carefully.

Then he flattened his palm against it.

Taiki jolted and gasped. The warmth of Sekai's hand seeped through the thin barrier directly into his gland, and his lashes fluttered shut for a second before he caught himself.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." Barely a whisper. Taiki's chest rose and fell too fast. "No, you didn't."

Sekai stepped back.

"Thank you," Taiki breathed. "Lord Sekai."

Sekai smiled softly.

"Go back first. I'll follow in a few minutes."

Taiki nodded, and walked briskly toward the terrace before his legs could betray him.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The Sato family stood near the refreshment table. Taiki slipped beside his mother casually, plucking a glass of lemonade as though he'd simply been fetching one this whole time.

Takahiro's eyes slid sideways.

"Where have you been, darling?"

"A walk." Taiki sipped his lemonade. "The garden is lovely."

Keito leaned in, her nose wrinkled. She sniffed twice, and her dark brows drew together.

"Why does your neck smell like lemon, Brother?"

Taiki's hand flew to his scent patch so fast he nearly knocked the glass from his other hand.

"It does not—"

"It absolutely does." Keito sniffed again, circling him.

"I... bumped into Lord Sekai on the garden path." The words tumbled out too quick. "It was dark. Neither of us saw the other clearly. Our necks simply—collided. An accident."

Takahiro's eyes sparkled. She lifted her fan, hiding the knowing smirk that spread across her beautiful face.

"Necks collided," she repeated behind the fan. "How unfortunate."

"Extremely," Taiki said stiffly, and drank his lemonade furiously.

The realization didn't arrive like lightning. It crept in slowly over days, settling into the spaces between thoughts—while Taiki arranged flowers in the drawing room, while he read by the window, while he stared at the ceiling before sleep came.

He had been wrong about Sekai.

The words tasted strange, even unspoken. He'd built a version of Sekai from a single evening's argument—an arrogant Alpha who believed omegas should be silent and small—and he'd drilled it so firmly that everything Sekai said afterward got filtered through that wall.

But the wall had cracks now.

I want my omega to be educated.

Taiki's brush hovered over the letter he was writing. Ink pooled at the nib's tip and dropped, blooming a dark circle on the parchment.

Sekai hadn't told him to stop speaking. He'd told him to stop standing alone in dark gardens. Not because an omega's voice was too loud, but because the world punished it when no one stood guard.

There was a difference. A big difference Taiki had refused to see.

He set the ruined letter aside and pressed his fingertips to the scent patch behind his ear.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The shift was small at first. So small that only someone watching closely would catch it.

At the Whitmore afternoon tea—another event where the mothers pretended to be surprised at each other's presence—Taiki passed Sekai near the garden gate. Their shoulders nearly touched.

"Lord Sekai."

"Taiki."

Normally, that exchange would have been an argument starter. Taiki would have lifted his chin. Sekai would have said something dry. Sparks would fly.

Instead, Taiki paused. His brown eyes held Sekai's longer, and his mouth lifted a bit.

"The lemonade here is dreadful. I'd avoid it."

He walked on before Sekai could respond.

But Sekai noticed. His dark eyes tracked Taiki's retreating figure—something changed behind that composed expression.

Their arguments didn't stop. If anything, they sharpened—but in a playful way.

At a garden luncheon hosted by the Ashford family, they stood on opposite sides of a debate about omega education reform that drew a small, fascinated crowd.

"Access to university lectures would fundamentally change—"

"Access without infrastructure is decoration, Taiki. You need funding, curricula, trained instructors willing to teach mixed classes—"

"So we do nothing because the task is difficult?"

"I said plan. Not nothing. You hear caution and translate it to cowardice every single time."

"Because caution is what people invoke when they'd rather preserve comfort than pursue change!"

Sekai's jaw worked. Then—against every expectation—he laughed.

"You're impossible."

"And you're infuriating." But Taiki's eyes were warm, and his blinding smile broke through.

Their gazes held.

Sekai's laughter faded. His gaze lingered on Taiki's mouth, his flushed cheeks, the curl of brown hair.

He didn't look away. He let himself be caught looking, and the boldness of it sent heat flooding up Taiki's neck.

Taiki broke first. He always broke first. He turned to reach for his lemonade, and his hand trembled around the glass.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The Sato family sat around the dining table. Keito stabbed a roasted potato with her fork and waved it.

"Lord Sekai agreed! I received his letter this afternoon—he said tomorrow works perfectly for sword practice."

She bounced in her seat, dark hair swinging against her shoulders.

"He's only home a few times a year. I refuse to waste the opportunity while he's still in the country."

Akira set down his wine glass. "I'll accompany you tomorrow, then. It's been a while since I've visited the Yamamoto estate."

Takahiro dabbed her napkin to her lips. "Darling, I nearly forgot. You and I have that appointment tomorrow."

Akira's eyebrows furrowed. "What appointment?"

"The one I told you about. With the—" Takahiro fluttered her hand. "The upholsterer. For the drawing room settees. You agreed weeks ago."

"I don't recall—"

"You absolutely did." Takahiro's smile was immovable. "Over breakfast. You were reading the paper, and you said, yes, dear, whatever you need."

Akira's mouth pressed flat. He glanced at his wife, then at Keito, then back at his wife. Whatever silent negotiation passed between them, Takahiro won.

"...Fine."

"But I want to train!" Keito's fork clattered against her plate. "Father, you promised!"

"Taiki can accompany you." Takahiro turned to her son cheerfully. "You don't have any callers scheduled tomorrow, do you?"

Taiki lowered his spoon. His brown eyes narrowed at his mother.

"You planned this."

"Planned what?" Takahiro blinked, the picture of wounded innocence. "I simply need settees, dear."

Taiki stared at her suspiciously. Takahiro smiled back.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll take her."

Keito cheered. Takahiro reached for the bread basket, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The Yamamoto manor rose behind its iron gates. Taiki stepped down from the carriage first, his bustle skirt rustling against his trousers. He'd chosen a simple wide-collared shirt today, no jacket, the fabric loose enough to breathe in the warm weather. The collar dipped across his décolletage, exposing the scent patch fixed neatly below his right ear.

Keito jumped down after him. She wore a plain white shirt tucked into fitted trousers, her dark hair tied back with a ribbon that was already slipping loose. A practice sword hung from her hip.

"Come on, Brother, you walk like a pensioner."

"I walk like a proper person."

Behind them Yusei descended, followed by Keito's attendant Sota—a beta male with a patient expression.

A housemaid opened the front door before they reached the steps and curtsied low, ushering them into the entrance hall. The marble floor gleamed, fresh flowers arranged neatly in beautiful vases.

Tetsuya appeared from the drawing room corridor, arms already open.

"Keito! My girl, look how tall you've gotten!"

Keito ran into the embrace. Tetsuya squeezed her tight, rocking side to side. When he released her, his gaze drifted past her shoulder and landed on Taiki.

His eyebrows lifted. A delighted smile spread across his face.

"Oh dear, it's Taiki." He crossed the distance and pulled Taiki into a hug, patting his back. "What a wonderful surprise. I didn't know you were coming."

"Lady Yamamoto. Keito needed a chaperone."

Tetsuya pulled back but kept his hands on Taiki's shoulders, studying his face knowingly.

"A chaperone. Is that all?"

"That is all."

"No budding feelings for a certain son of mine, then?"

Heat flooded Taiki's cheeks so fast his vision spotted. "Absolutely not—there is nothing—I am merely—"

Tetsuya laughed and released him. "You blush just like your mother used to." He patted Taiki's burning cheek once and turned toward the back of the house. "Come. He's already in the yard with the men. I'd stay and watch, but I have shopping that cannot wait."

He led them through the corridor, past the morning room and the library, to the wide glass doors that opened onto the rear grounds. The Yamamoto back garden stretched broad and green—an open lawn where figures moved in the distance.

Tetsuya kissed Keito's forehead, squeezed Taiki's hand with another knowing look that Taiki pointedly ignored, and disappeared back inside.

Sekai stood at the center of the lawn, coat discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Leiya—His clumsy yet endearing valet hovered nearby, fumbling with a rack of practice swords. A half-dozen men—off-duty soldiers and household guards from Lord Kenchi's retinue, alphas and betas both, with two women among them—stretched and sparred in loose pairs across the grass.

Sekai turned at the sound of footsteps. His dark eyes found Taiki first, then shifted to Keito.

"Lord Sekai!" Keito sprinted across the lawn and threw her arms around his middle. Sekai caught her with a grunt, one hand steadying her shoulder.

"You brought your own sword. Good. I was afraid Leiya lost the spare again."

"I did not—" Leiya started, then paused as he patted his hip.

Sekai's gaze slid back to Taiki, who stood at the garden's edge with his hands clasped.

"I didn't realize sword practice required an audience."

Taiki lifted his chin. "Someone has to ensure my sister returns home with all her limbs."

"Your faith in my teaching is staggering."

"My faith in your restraint is what concerns me."

Sekai's mouth twitched. Something warm flickered in his eyes before he turned back to the waiting group and clapped his hands once.

Taiki retreated to the shaded canopy set along the garden's edge—a white linen stretched over a table laid with tea, sandwiches, and sliced fruit. He settled onto the cushioned bench, poured himself a cup, and crossed one leg over the other. Yusei and Sota took chairs several paces behind him—close enough to attend, far enough to grant privacy.

On the lawn, Keito had already joined the line of sparring partners, bouncing on her toes beside a beta woman twice her width. Sekai corrected her grip, adjusted her stance, and stepped back.

Taiki sipped his tea and watched over. He told himself he watched for Keito's sake.

But his eyes kept drifting.

Sekai moved through the sparring pairs like water—calm and confident. His white shirt clung to his shoulders where sweat had begun to darken the linen, the fabric pulling taut across his back each time he swung.

No jacket, no cravat, no waistcoat. Just the shirt, half-untucked, the top three buttons left undone so that a sliver of chest showed with every move—collarbone, the hollow of his throat, a shadow of muscle beneath.

His sleeves were folded to the elbow, baring forearms corded with lean muscle, veins tracing lines beneath skin. His hands gripped the wooden sword so easily that the weapon look weightless.

Keito had not exaggerated. Not even slightly. Sekai disarmed a beta guard with a flick of his wrist, sidestepped a lunge from one of the soldiers without looking, and brought his practice blade to rest at the man's throat before the poor fellow finished his swing. The soldiers laughed and clapped before resetting their stance. Sekai rolled his shoulder and turned to Keito.

They sparred. Keito was good—sharp footwork, quick hands, instincts that belied her seventeen years. She pressed forward with a combination that forced Sekai back two steps, then twisted her blade under his guard and cracked the wooden edge against his ribs.

The sound rang across the lawn.

Keito's face split into a wide grin, andshe spun on her heel toward the canopy.

"BROTHER! Did you see that?! I hit him!"

Taiki smiled, and raised his hand in a wave.

Sekai laughed.

Taiki's hand froze mid-wave as he saw that bright laugh.

Sekai dragged the shirt over his head and tossed it to Leiya, who fumbled the catch. Beneath it—broad shoulders to a thick waist, the hard plane of his stomach catching the sun light, muscles shifting still damp with exertion. A faded scar curved along his left side, thin and silver.

Taiki's cheeks burned. He picked up his tea again before he set it down... And picked it up again.

They resumed. Keito lunged high, overextended her reach, and her front foot caught the edge of a divot in the grass. Her ankle buckled. She pitched sideways, sword flying from her grip, body twisting mid-fall toward the iron sword rack beside her.

Sekai moved fast. He threw his own blade aside, hooked an arm around Keito's waist, and wrenched her against his chest, spinning them both away from the rack. His bare shoulder clipped the iron frame. A wooden sword toppled from the stand and scraped down his forearm. A loose bracket caught his cheekbone.

Keito landed safe against him, wide-eyed and breathless.

Sekai's arm bled in a thin red line from elbow to wrist. A scratch split the skin beneath his left eye.

Taiki was on his feet before he realized it.

"Yusei—go inside, ask the housemaid for bandages, salve, and clean water. Now."

Yusei immediately rose and moved toward the glass doors.

Taiki crossed the lawn, cream bustle layers streaming behind him. Tea forgotten, composure forgotten, the distance he'd kept all morning forgotten. His heart hammered against his ribs as he dropped to his knees on the grass beside them.

"Keito—Keito, look at me. Are you hurt? Let me see—"

Taiki's hands moved before his thoughts caught up, cupping his sister's face, tilting it left, right, searching for bruises. His fingers swept down her arms, squeezed her wrists, pressed gently along her shoulders.

Keito blinked. Then she batted his hands away with a groan.

"Brother, stop—I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

"Your ankle twisted. I saw it twist."

"It barely rolled! I've had worse tripping over my own boots at home."

Taiki seized her ankle anyway. Keito yelped, more from indignation than pain, and kicked her leg free.

"Brother. I am in one piece. I promise."

Taiki exhaled. His shoulders dropped an inch. Then his gaze swung to Sekai.

Blood traced a line down Sekai's forearm, dripping from his wrist onto the grass. The scratch beneath his left eye had already begun to swell.

Keito scrambled upright and grabbed Sekai's uninjured arm.

"Lord Sekai—your face, your arm—are you alright? That was—you moved so fast. Thank you. Truly."

Sekai glanced at his own arm as though noticing the blood for the first time. He flexed his fingers once, testing, and shrugged.

"Scratches. Don't worry about it."

He rose to his feet in a single fluid motion, wiped his hand on his trousers, and raised his voice across the lawn.

"We break here! Thirty minutes."

The soldiers dropped their blades with visible relief. Leiya scrambled to collect the fallen practice swords, managed to pick up three, dropped two, picked those up, dropped the third. Sekai didn't look back.

The three of them crossed the grass toward the canopy. Keito had already forgotten her near-accident and bounded ahead toward the table of sandwiches.

Sekai walked casually, blood still dripping from his fingertips, making Taiki's stomach clench.

Under the shade, Sekai dropped onto a stool and reached for the water pitcher. Taiki remained standing, arms folded, watching the red line creep toward his wrist.

Yusei returned through the glass doors carrying a wooden tray—a porcelain basin of clean water, folded cotton cloths, a small pot of herbal salve, and linen strips for wrapping. She set it on the table beside Sekai and stepped back.

Leiya appeared at Sekai's elbow, hands already reaching for the basin.

"Master Sekai, allow me—"

Taiki stepped forward and took the tray. "Let me do it."

Leiya's eyebrows furrowed. A beat passed, then a grin spread across his face and he raised both palms in surrender.

"By all means."

Taiki pulled a stool up and sat. When he settled, his knee pressed against Sekai's thigh. He dipped a cloth into the basin, wrung it, and took Sekai's arm.

"Hold still."

Sekai watched him with an unreadable expression but said nothing.

Taiki dabbed the cloth along the cut, clearing the blood carefully. The scratch ran shallow but long, and fresh red kept welling behind each pass. He dipped the cloth again, squeezed pink water back into the basin, returned to the wound.

"You should have been more careful. What if the bracket had struck your eye instead of your cheek? Or if the sword had caught something deeper—an artery, a tendon—you could have lost use of your hand, and then what? You wouldn't be able to hold a sword ever again. And the rack itself could have toppled entirely, and if the iron had struck your head—"

"Taiki."

"—you could have died, and then who would teach Keito? Certainly not Leiya, because no offense to Leiya but the man cannot hold three practice swords without—"

"Taiki." Sekai huffed. "They're just scratches."

Taiki pressed the cloth harder than necessary against his forearm. "You are bleeding."

Sekai looked down at him. Taiki's brow was furrowed, brown eyes wide with worry.

Sekai's expression shifted. The corner of his mouth curled upward.

"Careful. Someone might think you actually care about me."

"I care about basic medical procedure. There's a difference."

"You ran across the lawn."

"I walked briskly."

"You ran."

Taiki's jaw tightened. He uncorked the salve tin with more force than necessary and dabbed it along the cut. Sekai hissed softly but didn't pull away.

"I would have done the same for anyone."

"Mm. Of course you would."

Taiki applied the salve along his forearm, then wrapped the linen strip twice around, tucking the end.

He shifted on the stool and reached for a fresh cloth. His free hand rose to Sekai's jaw, tilting his face toward the light. His fingertips settled against Sekai's cheek beneath the scratch, steadying him.

Sekai went still.

Taiki dabbed at the cut under his eye. The cloth came away pink. This close, he could count the individual lashes framing Sekai's dark eyes. The lemon scent curled past the patch, muted but present.

"If this scars," Taiki murmured, dabbing again, "it will ruin your face."

Sekai's eyes locked onto his as that smirk returned.

"Ruin it? So you're saying my face has something worth ruining."

"That is not what I—"

"You think I'm handsome."

The blush erupted from Taiki's neck. "No. I said the scar would be unsightly. I made no comment about—I wasn't—you are twisting my words—"

"You said it would ruin my face. That only works if the face was good to begin with."

"Your face is perfectly ordinary—"

"Now you're lying."

Taiki bit inside of his cheek. His fingers were still pressed to Sekai's cheek, the damp cloth forgotten between them. He could feel the warmth beneath his fingertips, the sharp edge of Sekai's jawline.

Sekai's smirk faded. His hand came up and settled over Taiki's, fingers curling around the back of his hand.

His thumb stroked slowly across Taiki's knuckles.

Taiki's breath caught. Sekai's gaze held his, and Taiki felt the weight of it.

He didn't pull away.

"These sandwiches are divine," Keito announced from two meters behind them, mouth full. "Lord Sekai, does your cook use that rosemary butter? Because Mother's cook never gets it right and I've been telling him for months—"

Taiki ripped his hand free and lurched backward so fast his stool screeched. He grabbed the salve pot, turned it in his hands before set it down, and picked up a clean cloth to fold and unfold it.

"I was—the salve needed—the wound requires air, so I was—finished. I'm finished."

His voice cracked on the last word.

Sekai's hand hung in the empty air where Taiki's warmth had been. He turned his head toward Keito, who wandered closer with a sandwich in each hand and crumbs dotting her chin.

"Are you alright, Lord Sekai? Does it hurt much?"

He looked at her—guileless dark eyes, cheeks stuffed and completely oblivious. A sigh left him before he chuckled.

He reached out and patted her head.

"I'm fine, Keito."

Taiki folded himself into the cushions in the drawing room. A book rested open against his knee, one hand turning the page while the other brought a teacup to his lips.

Across from him, Keito sprawled on the opposite settee with a plate of lemon biscuits balanced on her stomach.

Takahiro stood at the side table, trimming the stems of white peonies and arranging them in a crystal vase.

The door clicked open.

"My Lady," the servant bowed. "Lord Yamamoto Sekai is here."

Taiki's brow furrowed. "What for?"

Takahiro's scissors stilled. A smile bloomed across her face. "Oh, how wonderful. Do let him in."

The servant bowed and retreated. Taiki set his teacup down and straightened, tucking the book beside him. Before he could form another question, the drawing room doors opened wide and Sekai stepped through—dark-suited, composed as ever—followed by Leiya, who carried a large covered dish wrapped in linen cloth. Behind Leiya, a second servant carried a woven basket.

Sekai bowed. "Lady Sato. My mother sends her regards—and her cook's roasted pheasant. She said you requested it."

Takahiro set her scissors down and clasped her hands together. "Oh! The roasted pheasant with the tarragon glaze! I adore how your family's chef prepares it—I told Tetsuya just the other day that I've been craving it terribly, and your cook puts mine to absolute shame." She beamed at Sekai. "How kind of her. And how kind of you to deliver it personally."

She waved a servant forward. "Please, take that from Mr. Leiya and bring it to the kitchen."

Leiya surrendered the dish with visible relief, flexing his fingers afterward.

Keito launched off the settee, biscuit crumbs scattering. She threw her arms around Sekai's middle. "Lord Sekai!"

He caught her with a grin. "Keito. You've gotten stronger since yesterday."

"I've been practicing my grip."

"On what, the biscuit tin?"

She punched his arm and he laughed.

His gaze drifted past her—found Taiki on the settee, mouth scowling.

"Taiki." Sekai inclined his head, corners of his eyes crinkling. "What a charming welcome. You look as though I've personally offended your afternoon."

Taiki's jaw shifted. "And you didn't find it suspicious in the slightest?"

"Find what suspicious?"

"Your mother sending you as a delivery boy."

"She said Leiya couldn't find the house on his own."

"Right," Taiki said flatly.

Sekai's smirk widened. "Would you have preferred I sent a footman?"

"I would have preferred silence with my tea."

"Then you should've chosen a quieter family to be neighbors with."

Takahiro stepped between them. "Lord Sekai, won't you sit? Have some tea with us."

Sekai placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head. "You're too generous, Lady Sato. But I'm afraid I must tend to my horse this afternoon—she's been restless since the journey home, and the farrier is coming at three."

Taiki snorted into his teacup. "Alphas and their obsession with swords and horses. Is there nothing else that occupies your mind?"

Sekai turned to him. "My horse carried me two hundred miles through open country. I'd say she's earned an afternoon of my attention."

"You speak of her like she's a war companion."

"She is. And you shouldn't underestimate a good horse. The difference between a well-trained mount and a neglected one is the difference between arriving somewhere alive or not arriving at all."

"How dramatic."

"How spoken like someone who's never sat in a saddle."

Taiki's eyebrow twitched.

"I have never ridden, because no one has taught me. Not because I lack the ability."

Sekai tilted his head. That dangerous glint returned to his eyes. "Mm. Of course. Though I wonder—even with instruction—whether you could manage a horse that stands taller than you."

Keito munched into a biscuit while grinning.

Taiki set his teacup down. He rose from the settee, brown eyes blazing.

"Teach me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Teach me to ride. Today. Take me with you."

Sekai studied him for a long beat. "You are truly too feisty for an omega, you know that?"

"And you are too presumptuous for an alpha, yet here we both stand."

Sekai crossed his arms. "A riding lesson isn't a garden stroll. The ground is uneven, the horse is unpredictable, and you're wearing—" his gaze swept down Taiki's layered bustle, the frilled fabric cascading at his back, "—approximately forty yards of fabric."

"I'll manage."

"If you fall, it's not my fault."

"I won't fall."

"You've never ridden."

"Then I'll fall gracefully."

Keito snorted so hard a biscuit crumb shot out of her nose. She clapped a hand over her face.

Taiki turned to Takahiro. "Mother, I'll be going with Lord Sekai for a riding lesson."

Takahiro's eyes sparkled. She pressed a hand to her cheek as though considering it, but the smile betrayed her. "Of course, darling. Do enjoy yourself."

Sekai looked at Takahiro. "Lady Sato. Lord Sato won't... take issue with me borrowing his eldest for the afternoon?"

Takahiro laughed. "Lord Sekai, my son once threw a tea set at a suitor who tried to grab his hand. I assure you, Taiki can handle a horse. And if anything, Akira would be delighted someone finally got him outdoors."

Sekai exhaled through his nose. "Very well." He turned to Taiki and extended his hand. "Come, then."

Taiki looked at the offered hand and walked directly past him toward the door without touching it.

"I'll be riding in my own carriage with Yusei as my chaperone. Have the carriage prepared, please."

Sekai's hand hung in the air. He let it drop, huffed and chuckled.

He turned back to the drawing room. "Lady Sato, thank you for your hospitality. Keito—"

Keito waved. "Enjoy my handful of a brother!"

Sekai shook his head and followed Taiki out. Leiya scrambled after them both, nearly tripping on the carpet.

Takahiro watched the empty doorway, the peony stem still loose between her fingers. She let out a long sigh.

"Well. That wasn't what I planned. But it's working all the same."

Keito licked crumbs from her thumb. "Brother turned the color of a tomato when Lord Sekai offered his hand. Did you see?"

Takahiro tucked the last peony into the vase and smiled at her daughter. "I saw everything, my dear. I always do."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The carriage rattled along the road, jostling Taiki against the seat. Yusei sat across from him, watching her master quietly.

"You don't have to say it," Taiki muttered, staring out the window.

"I wasn't going to say anything, Master Taiki."

"Your face is saying it."

Yusei's lips twitched. "My face is perfectly neutral."

Taiki tugged at the collar of his lavender suit, the bustle layers rustling behind him as he shifted.

The carriage pulled through an arched gate and came to a stop. Sekai's horse was already tied at the post, his own carriage parked nearby. He stood waiting with his arms crossed, coat removed and draped over one forearm, shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. Leiya hovered behind him, holding three different riding crops and looking unsure which one to offer.

Taiki stepped down from the carriage. The breeze swept across the open grounds carrying the scent of grass and hay. Horses moved in the distant paddocks.

Sekai fell into step beside him without a word, and they walked the dirt path toward the main stable. Behind them at a respectable distance, Yusei and Leiya followed.

The stable doors open wide. Inside was cooler, thick with the smell of oiled leather and fresh straw. Rows of stalls on both sides, horses of every color peering over their half-doors. Stable hands moved between them with buckets and brushes. A few nobles lingered in the aisle, inspecting their mounts or speaking with grooms.

A broad-shouldered man with tanned skin looked up from a feed ledger and broke into a grin.

"Lord Yamamoto! Back already?"

"Kensuke." Sekai clasped the man's hand. "How is she?"

"Meguro is in fine form. Eating well, temperament steady. She gave one of the new stable boys a nip yesterday, but that was his own fault for approaching her blind side."

"That sounds like her."

"Third stall on the left, same as always."

Sekai nodded and moved down the aisle, followed by Taiki.

The stall door was already open. Inside stood a dark brown mare, tall and lean-muscled, with a black mane that fell past her neck. Sekai stepped in and pressed his forehead against Meguro's nose, one hand sliding up the side of her neck.

"There you are." He said softly. "You look good. Have they been spoiling you?"

Meguro huffed against his chest. Sekai laughed—actually laughed—and ran his palm along her flank, checking the coat, the muscle beneath, the condition of her legs.

Kensuke appeared at the stall entrance. "She's been on the oat and barley mix you requested. Turned her nose up at the bran mash the first two days, but she came around."

"She's particular. Switch the bran for soaked hay pellets next time—she'll take to it faster. And her hooves?"

"Trimmed last week. Farrier said she's sound."

"Good. Keep her turnout to the east paddock. The west one floods after rain and she hates mud."

Kensuke scratched notes onto his ledger. Taiki watched the exchange quietly. His fingers drifted forward without thinking, and he touched Meguro's shoulder.

The mare's head swung toward him, its dark eyes assessed. Taiki held still—but Meguro only sniffed at his sleeve and turned away.

"She didn't bite you," Sekai said, glancing over. "She must think you're harmless."

"I am not harmless."

"To a horse that weighs six times what you do, you absolutely are."

Taiki's hand stroked down Meguro's neck, feeling the warmth beneath his palm. "She's beautiful."

"Don't let her hear that. She already thinks too highly of herself."

"Perhaps she has good reason."

"Now you sound like her."

"Then she and I already have something in common—being underestimated by you."

Sekai opened his mouth to retort—

"Oh? You're back."

Taiki startled. His hand jerked from Meguro's neck as he spun toward the voice.

An alpha stood in the aisle just outside the stall. Tall—as tall as Sekai—with dark brown hair cut short and a handsome face. His smile was easy and warm. Taiki noticed a bond mark below his right ear.

Sekai's eyes widened. His composure broke so fast and he looked boyish.

"Gan!"

He crossed the stall and pulled the man into an embrace. Gan laughed and clapped his back.

"When did you get in? I heard you were abroad again."

"Two months ago. Mother summoned me. You know how she gets."

"I know exactly how she gets. Lady Yamamoto sent my wife a letter asking why I hadn't convinced you to come home sooner."

Sekai groaned. "She's relentless."

"She loves you." Gan pulled back, hands still on Sekai's shoulders, studying his face. "You look well. Better than last time."

"I am well. And you? How are Sora and the little ones?"

"Sora is radiant as ever. The twins have discovered how to open doors. Our household has not known peace since."

Sekai's grin was unguarded. He looked younger like this.

Gan's gaze drifted past Sekai's shoulder and landed squarely on Taiki, who stood very still beside Meguro.

Gan's brows rose as his smile turned knowing.

"Well. I'm glad you're finally courting someone."

Heat flooded Taiki's face so fast his vision blurred. "I—we are not—this is not—"

"He's not—" Sekai started at the same time, turning sharply. "Gan, don't be ridiculous."

"You brought an omega to your horse. You never let anyone near Meguro."

"He touched her on his own."

"Even more telling."

Sekai pinched the bridge of his nose. He exhaled, then gestured between them.

"Taiki, this is my childhood friend Iwata Takanori, though I usually call him Gan. Gan—this is Sato Taiki. He's my... he is a son of my mother's friend. And he insisted I teach him to ride."

Taiki and Gan bowed to each other. Gan's eyes crinkled.

"Mr. Sato. A pleasure. I must say, the courage it takes to demand a riding lesson from this one—" he tilted his head toward Sekai, "—speaks highly of your character."

"He is a rather difficult teacher, though I suspect the horse will prove more agreeable."

Gan laughed. He glanced at Sekai warmly. "I like him."

"Don't encourage him," Sekai muttered.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Gan stepped back, adjusting his gloves. "I'm only here to tend to my mare. I won't keep you." His gaze settled on Taiki one last time. "Enjoy your lesson, Mr. Sato. And do make him work for it."

He turned and disappeared down the aisle.

Sekai stared after him for a long moment before reaching for Meguro's halter.

"Come on. Before anyone else arrives to comment on my personal life."

He led Meguro out of the stall, and Taiki followed him through the wide stable doors into the open field.

The field stretched wide. Meguro stood patient while Sekai checked the saddle straps.

"First. You stand on her left side. Always the left."

Taiki moved to Meguro's left flank. Sekai stepped behind him—close enough that Taiki caught the faint lemon scent.

"Good. Now, take the reins in your left hand. Gather them here, just above the withers—yes, that ridge. No, lower. There."

Sekai's hand covered Taiki's, pressing his fingers into the correct grip. His palm was rough and warm. Taiki stared at the leather between their knuckles and forced himself to focus.

"Left foot in the stirrup. Keep your weight centered."

Taiki slid his boot into the iron ring. It took two attempts—the stirrup hung higher than he expected, and the layers of his bustle skirt caught against his thigh.

"Now push up and swing your right leg over. One smooth motion."

Taiki pushed. He rose, whilst unsteady and arms shaking, and managed to get his right leg across Meguro's broad back. The saddle creaked beneath him.

For a moment, he sat atop the horse, fingers white around the reins.

The ground looked very far away.

"I did it." He whispered.

"You did. Now hold—" Sekai reached up, palm open. "Take my hand. You're listing to the right."

"I can do it myself."

"Taiki—"

"I said I'm perfectly—"

Meguro shifted her weight. Just one casual step to the left.

Taiki's balance crumbled. His hip slid sideways off the saddle, his boot slipped free of the stirrup, and the world tilted. He tried to grab for the horse's mane, missed, and went down.

Sekai caught him before he hit the grass—arms hooking under Taiki's ribs, pivoting so Sekai was the one hit the ground. Taiki's back pressed flush against Sekai's chest, his bustle crumpled between them.

Sekai's laugh rumbled straight into Taiki's spine.

"You can do it yourself."

"Shut up."

"Perfectly capable, I believe you said."

"I hate you."

Sekai set him on his feet. His hands lingered at Taiki's waist a second longer than necessary before dropping away.

"Again."

Taiki fell four more times. Once he slid forward over Meguro's neck when she dipped her head to sniff the grass. Once his boot tangled in his own skirt layers. Twice he simply lost his balance when she walked.

Each time, Sekai was there—hand catching his arm, palm bracing his lower back, gripping his waist. And each time, something sharp and teasing left his mouth.

"You ride worse than Keito, and she's seventeen."

"Tell me—did they teach you nothing useful at that omega school?"

"At this rate, the horse will learn to catch you before I do."

But between the jabs, his instruction never faltered. Heels down. Shoulders back. Breathe. Soften your hands—she can feel everything.

On the seventh attempt, something clicked.

Taiki's spine settled. His hips found the rhythm of Meguro's walk. The reins rested easy in his fingers, and the mare carried him forward.

Sekai stood in the center of the circle, arms crossed and watching. When Taiki completed the full loop and brought Meguro to a gentle halt before him, something shifted in Sekai's expression. The teasing went away, and what's left was a genuine smile.

"Well done, Taiki."

Taiki's cheeks burned. His fingers tightened on the reins, but he smiled back.

Meguro grazed lazily while Taiki sat tall in the saddle, practicing the posture Sekai had drilled into him. Heels down. Shoulders back. Hands soft.

Then the saddle dipped behind him.

Weight settled against his back. Long arms reached past his shoulder and took the reins from his grip.

Taiki went rigid.

"What—what are you doing?"

"Sitting on my horse." Sekai's voice came from directly above his right ear. His chest vibrated against Taiki's spine with each word. "She is mine, if you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten, but you can't just—"

"My legs are tired, Taiki. I've been chasing you around this field for hours." Sekai clicked his tongue. Meguro stepped forward obediently. "Consider it payment for the riding lesson. You get to sit. I get to stop running after a falling omega."

"I only fell four times—"

"Seven."

"—and I did not ask you to catch me every single—"

"Would you have preferred the ground?"

Taiki pressed his lips together as his ears burned.

They rode in silence for a full circle. Meguro's hooves pressed soft patterns into the damp grass.

"Let me hold the reins."

"You just learned to sit without falling."

"I rode a full circle on my own. Give them to me."

Then the leather slid into Taiki's palms.

Taiki squared his shoulders and guided Meguro forward. Behind him, Sekai's hands hovered.

Then fingers settled at his waist.

Sekai's arms wrapped around him, pulling their bodies flush. Taiki felt the full length of that chest against his back now.

Meguro shifted beneath them. Taiki swayed, his balance crumbling—

Hands clenched at his hips. Sekai's mouth dropped beside his ear.

"Careful."

The word ghosted across his skin.

"I was careful. The horse moved."

"The horse has been moving this entire time."

"She moved differently."

"Mm."

Taiki kept his eyes forward,his knuckles whitened around the reins.

"You're holding me rather tightly for someone who claims this is about tired legs."

"You're trembling rather hard for someone who claims he was perfectly balanced."

"It's the wind."

"There is no wind, Taiki."

Taiki clamped his jaw shut. Behind him, Sekai's thumbs traced idle circles against the sides of his waist, and every coherent thought in Taiki's skull scattered.

"You're insufferable," Taiki managed.

"You're warm." Sekai said softly.

Meguro carried them along the stone wall's edge. Their shadows merged into a single shape on the grass. Honey and lemon tangled in the air, faint through the patches.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The stable roof came into view first, then the open doors, then two familiar figures standing beneath the overhang.

Leiya leaned against the stable post with his arms crossed, head tilted toward Yusei who stood with her hands clasped at her apron. Whatever he'd said had drawn a small, reluctant laugh from her. She covered it with her fingers.

Both heads turned at the sound of hooves.

Their eyes found Sekai and Taiki on the same horse. Sekai's arms still loosely framing Taiki's waist. Taiki's bustle crushed between them. Honey and lemon hanging in the air.

Leiya's eyebrows raised. Yusei's lips tried to fight back a smile. They exchanged a glance.

Sekai dismounted first. He then turned and extended his hand upward.

Taiki looked at it.

The same hand he'd swatted away at his house earlier this noon. The same hand he'd refused at the mounting block.

His fingers slid into Sekai's grip.

Sekai's hand closed around his steadily, guiding him down from the saddle.

"Third time." Sekai's mouth curved. "It took you all afternoon to finally learn that my hand serves a purpose."

"Your hand serves to annoy me. I simply chose the lesser evil over breaking my neck."

"How gracious."

Yusei went to him immediately. Her fingers were already brushing dried grass from his shoulder.

"Master Taiki, your shirt—and the back of your skirts, there's mud through to the second layer—"

"It's fine, Yusei."

"You have grass in your hair."

Taiki's hand flew to his head. Yusei plucked a grass from behind his ear and held it up between two fingers.

"The field was damp, I assume?"

"I fell off the horse."

"Several times, it would appear."

"Yusei."

"I said nothing, Master Taiki." She smoothed his collar with both hands, her eyes flickering once toward Sekai. "Nothing at all."

On the other hand, Leiya straightened from the post and approached Sekai with a wide grin. Sekai handed him Meguro's reins without looking.

"Not a word, Leiya."

"I haven't said—"

"Not a word."

Leiya pressed his free hand to his chest and dipped his chin in a mock salute, though his grin didn't disappear.

Taiki crossed the distance between them.

"Lord Sekai." Taiki dipped his head. "Thank you for the lesson."

Sekai nodded. "And I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"I underestimated you." He held Taiki's gaze. "You're far stronger than I gave you credit for. I won't make that mistake again."

The flush crept back up Taiki's neck, but this time he didn't look away. His chin lifted.

"Perhaps that is what makes me a different sort of omega."

Something flickered in Sekai's eyes.

"I must now take my leave."

"Of course."

Taiki turned and Yusei fell into step beside him. They made it four, five paces toward the exit path—

"Taiki."

He stopped and turned his head.

Sekai stood where he'd left him. His mouth opened and closed without saying anything. His hand lifted as if reaching for something, then dropped to his side. The composure that never cracked now cracked.

"… Good night, Taiki."

Taiki's lips parted. A smile bloomed, shy and yet genuine.

"Good night, Lord Sekai."

He turned away. The ruined bustle layers swayed with each step.

Sekai faced the stable, his head dropped. He smiled at the ground like a mad man.

Leiya appeared at his shoulder grinning, Meguro's reins draped over one arm.

"Won't you wish me a good night too, Master Sekai? I've been standing here all afternoon as well."

Sekai's punched Leiya's arm, making Leiya yelped.

"Stable the horse and draw my bath before I make you sleep in the field."

The carriage carried on a jostling ground.

"I have seventeen necklaces, Yusei. Seventeen. Mother looked at my jewelry box this morning and said—" He straightened his spine and mimicked, "'Oh, my darling boy, the diamond of the season cannot possibly be seen in the same emerald twice. What would they say? What would they write?'"

Yusei pressed her knuckles to her lips, giggling.

"Lady Takahiro does have a point, Master Taiki. The season columnists have already mentioned your pearl set three times."

"Because it's a good pearl set!"

"It is a wonderful pearl set. And it will still be wonderful when you return with something new to accompany it."

Taiki slumped against the seat and blew a strand of brown hair from his eyes.

"I remember Alan mentioned a shop near the square. Said the pieces were unlike anything he'd seen in the capital." Taiki peered through the glass. "Oh, there—that one."

The carriage slowed before a storefront placed between a bookseller and a tailor. It was modest but dressed in deep mahogany wood and gold-leaf lettering above the door. Glass display cases flanked the entrance.

Taiki stepped down from the carriage. His bustle skirts swayed as he tilted his head, studying the shop front.

"It's smaller than I expected, but beautiful."

Inside, the shop was like a jewel box. Velvet-lined cases stood in neat rows beneath crystal lanterns. Necklaces draped over curved marble busts. Rings glittered from trays of black silk. Bracelets lined, and earrings hung from branches of polished silver.

Yusei settled herself in a chair near the entrance.

Taiki drifted toward the nearest display, brown eyes widening. His fingers hovered above a strand of sapphires without touching.

"Oh, pretty," he breathed.

"Good afternoon."

The voice came from behind a curtained doorway. A tall alpha emerged—dark hair, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His hands bore marks of small burns, a callus along the thumb.

He smiled warmly.

"Welcome to my shop. I am Takeuchi Shunsuke."

Taiki turned and dipped his head. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Takeuchi. I am Sato Taiki."

Recognition sparked in Shunsuke's eyes. "The diamond of the season." He placed a hand over his chest and bowed. "You honor my humble store, Mr. Sato. Truly."

"My friend spoke highly of your work." Taiki glanced back at the sapphires. "Though I confess, I rarely visit jewelry shops. I wouldn't know where to begin—what suits me, what stone, what cut."

Shunsuke stepped beside him, hands clasped behind his back.

"Then allow me. Jewelry is not merely decoration—it is expression. Each stone carries a voice." He reached into the case and lifted a velvet tray, showing a set of Ruby. "Ruby speaks of bravery. Of beauty that does not flinch."

Shunsuke set the tray down and retrieved another. This one gleamed green.

"Green sapphire speaks of wisdom. Of a mind that sees what others overlook."

Taiki hummed, tilting his head. "You speak of stones the way poets speak of people."

"Gems deserve no less." Shunsuke gestured deeper into the store. "Shall we?"

They walked side by side between the cases. Shunsuke pointed to set of amethyst, rows of topaz, a single opal that shifted color with each angle. Taiki listened and asked questions about clarity and origin, and debated the merits of warm tones against cool ones. Shunsuke answered each question patiently, though his eyebrows rose more than once.

The bell above the door rang.

"Shunsuke."

The voice sounded familiar and casual.

Taiki's spine went rigid. He turned slowly, as if moving too fast might confirm what his ears already knew.

Sekai stood at the threshold, one hand still on the door. Dark coat, dark hair, that insufferable composure. His gaze swept the shop—landed on Taiki—and the composure cracked slightly.

From the chair by the entrance, Yusei's hands flew to her mouth.

Shunsuke, who had been holding a strand of sapphire up to the light, turned with an easy grin. "Sekai! How's the world treating you?" He crossed the shop and pulled Sekai into a firm embrace, clapping him on the back.

Sekai returned the gesture, but his eyes drifted back to Taiki.

"Well, well." He released Shunsuke and tilted his head. "If it isn't the diamond of the season, browsing jewels like the rest of us common folk."

Taiki squared his shoulders. "I was having a perfectly pleasant afternoon, Lord Sekai. The universe has a cruel sense of humor."

"The universe, or your carriage driver?"

"Both, it seems, since they delivered me to the same shop as you."

Sekai's mouth twitched. "I assure you, I was here first in spirit. Shunsuke has been expecting me."

"Then perhaps you should have arrived first in body, and spared us both."

A sharp whistle cut between them. Shunsuke leaned against the counter, eyes bright with delight.

Sekai's head snapped and glared at him.

Shunsuke raised both palms. "Forgive me." The grin didn't fade. "It's only that I've never witnessed an omega talk back to you with such bravery. Most people just nod and flee."

Taiki rolled his eyes. "Most people haven't spent enough time around him to build up the tolerance."

Sekai cleared his throat. "I came to collect my mother's commissioned pieces."

Shunsuke straightened from the counter. "Of course. They're finished—turned out beautifully, if I say so myself. Give me a moment."

He disappeared through the curtained doorway.

Taiki returned his attention to the display case. His reflection stared back at him from the polished glass, cheeks pinker than he would have liked.

"For an alpha, you're remarkably domestic." He kept his gaze fixed on a row of pearl brooches. "Last I recall, you were delivering food baskets. Now you're running jewelry errands."

"I am devoted to the people who matter to me. My mother asked, and I see no shame in answering." Sekai paused. "Besides, Shunsuke is a dear friend. Any excuse to visit his shop."

Taiki glanced over his shoulder. "Devotion and obedience from an alpha. That's rarer than half the gems in here."

Sekai chuckled. "Perhaps you've simply been meeting the wrong alphas."

"Perhaps the bar is buried underground."

The curtain rustled. Shunsuke returned carrying a wooden box, which he set on the counter with care. Sekai walked over and watched as Shunsuke opened it, revealing a set of mother-of-pearl hair combs nestled in silk.

Shunsuke tallied the cost on a small ledger, and Sekai placed the coins down without hesitation.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you." Shunsuke gathered the coins and closed the box, sliding it across the counter.

Taiki had moved further along the cases, fingers trailing just above the glass. Shunsuke approached him.

"Still searching?"

Taiki nodded. "There's too much beauty here to choose quickly."

Shunsuke hummed. He glanced back at Sekai, then at Taiki, then back at Sekai once more—trying to piece a puzzle.

"You should have told me Sekai was courting you. He's one of my closest friends—I could find something that marries his taste with your character. A stone that speaks for both of you."

The color that flooded Taiki's face was instant.

"I am not—no one is courting me. Lord Sekai and I are barely—we are acquaintances at best."

Shunsuke blinked and looked between them again. A laugh broke from his chest. "Really? You could have fooled me. The way you two bicker, I'd have wagered you were ten years into a marriage."

"Shunsuke." Sekai's voice cut from the counter. "If you value your teeth, I suggest you stop talking."

Taiki's fingers hovered over a display near the window. A delicate necklace of sapphires, each gem no larger than a teardrop.

"This is beautiful."

Shunsuke appeared at his side. He took the necklace, holding it at arm's length, turning it slowly. "Good eye. The sapphires are Ceylon—deep saturation, minimal inclusions. The silverwork is one of my apprentice's pieces, actually. He's getting better."

He lowered the necklace and studied Taiki's face, his coloring, the shape of his neck. "I do think it would look lovely on you. The blue against your complexion—here, let me just—"

Shunsuke reached toward Taiki's neck.

A hand shot out and locked around Shunsuke's wrist. The grip was iron—knuckles white, fingers pressing into bone. Shunsuke's face crumpled and he let out a painful groan.

"Do not touch him."

Sekai's voice came out low. His lemon scent thickened in the air despite the patch behind his ear.

Shunsuke's jaw clenched. He looked down at his trapped wrist, then up at Sekai's face. "Good God, Sekai. I was going to hold the necklace against his neck. To see if the piece suits him. It's what jewelers do."

"You can do it without touching."

Shunsuke let out a strained laugh. "Understood. Now would you kindly release me before my hand snaps? This hand is my livelihood."

Sekai's grip held. His eyes hadn't moved from Shunsuke's face.

"Lord Sekai."

Taiki's voice. Just his name, spoken gently.

Sekai's released Shunsuke's wrist and stepped back. His hand dropped to his side.

"My apologies."

Shunsuke flexed his fingers, rotating his wrist with a wince. He said nothing, but the look he gave Sekai spoke volumes—eyebrows raised and knowing smiles.

Silence filled the shop. The sapphire necklace still dangled from Shunsuke's other hand.

Sekai cleared his throat. He looked at the necklace, then at Taiki, then at the far wall.

"What if I order a custom piece for you?"

Taiki's lips parted. "What?"

"A commissioned necklace. Something designed for you specifically." Sekai's gaze settled somewhere around Taiki's left shoulder. "Not pulled from a display case like an afterthought."

"You cannot be serious."

"I will choose the gemstone. The color. The setting. Everything." Sekai crossed his arms. "You've been standing here forever and haven't decided on a single thing. Clearly, you need assistance."

Taiki lifted his eyebrows. "You don't know a single thing about me."

Sekai's arms unfolded as his expression softened.

"You are a pretty omega with a sweet honey scent." He started. "Your smile blinds everyone in the room. But it's not just that." He paused, looking at him. "You're strong. Smart. Meticulous in everything you do. Responsible to a fault. You rarely yield to anyone—least of all alphas who think they deserve your submission simply because of what they are."

The shop dissolved. The glass cases, the velvet trays, Shunsuke standing a meter away—all of it melted away until there was only Sekai's voice and his steady gaze.

Taiki's breath hitched.

No one had ever said those words to him. Not like that. Every tutor at the omega school had clicked their tongue at his questions. Every alpha suitor in that drawing room had looked through his opinions as though they were fog.

Too opinionated. Too stubborn. Too much.

The qualities he'd sharpened like blades were the same ones the world wanted him to file down. His family loved him for them. His mother and father saw his fire and fed it.

But hearing it from Sekai—from an alpha who had no obligation to see him at all—

Heat crawled up Taiki's neck, bloomed across his cheeks. He blinked rapidly, twice, and turned his face toward the window.

"Fine." His voice came out thinner than he intended. He straightened. "Do whatever you want, then."

He turned to Shunsuke. "Lord Sekai will choose the design. As for the payment—"

"I will pay."

Taiki's head whipped back. "Are you insane?"

Sekai said nothing.

Taiki stared at him. The words dried up in his mouth. An alpha, commissioning and purchasing jewelry for an omega. The implication hung between them like something too fragile to name.

"You're buying jewelry for me."

"Yes. Do you want it or not?"

They looked at each other. And in that silence, Taiki noticed—the faintest color across the bridge of Sekai's nose. His ears, just visible above his dark collar, had gone pink. He was holding his ground against his own embarrassment.

Sekai was blushing.

The realization hit Taiki, and his own face burned in answer.

"Yes," Taiki whispered. "I do want it."

Sekai exhaled, the tension in his shoulders released. A smile broke across his face, small yet genuine.

"Very well."

They held each other's gaze a beat too long.

"Well!" Shunsuke clapped his hands together, making both of them flinched. "I don't particularly care who pays, so long as someone does and I get the commission. Shall we discuss specifications, Sekai, or would you prefer to stare at Mr. Sato for another quarter hour?"

Sekai's head turned slowly. "I will come back tomorrow to discuss the design. Without your commentary."

Taiki's pulse hammered against his throat. The shop felt too small, the air too warm. Sekai's lemon scent lingered.

He needed to leave.

"I should be going. Thank you for your time, Mr. Takeuchi. The craftsmanship here is truly remarkable." He turned, not quite meeting Sekai's eyes. "Lord Sekai."

He glanced toward the corner of the shop where Yusei sat.

"Yusei."

Yusei rose, smoothed her skirt, and offered a bow to both men. "Lord Sekai. Mr. Takeuchi."

The bell above the door chimed as they stepped out into the street.

The carriage rocked gently over stones. Taiki rested his temple against the window frame, watching the row of townhouses slide past.

His thoughts drifted.

The way Sekai held a conversation. The way his composure would crack just enough to let a teasing remark slip, his eyes glinting with mischief. That low laugh, rare and warm.

And his face. Taiki's fingers curled against the carriage seat. That sharp jaw. Those dark eyes that seemed to absorb everything.

But what settled deepest was something else entirely.

Taiki had been so certain, that night at the royal ball. He'd looked at Sekai and seen every alpha who had ever dismissed him—another man who believed omegas should sit still and look decorative. When Sekai had warned him about speaking too freely among alphas, Taiki had heard condescension.

He'd been wrong.

Sekai didn't want him silent. Sekai had called him smart. Had said he was strong, meticulous and stubborn in the same breath that he called him pretty—not as contradictions, but as a complete portrait.

What Taiki had mistaken for disdain was concern. Not that Taiki's opinions were wrong or unwelcome, but that the world they lived in punished omegas who carried them too openly. Sekai hadn't been trying to cage him. He'd been afraid the world would.

No other alpha had ever drawn that distinction.

A smile crept across Taiki's face. His eyes went hazy on the passing scenery.

He then turned from the window.

Yusei sat across from him. Her hands folded in her lap, her mouth smiled knowingly.

The warmth in Taiki's face ignited. "What?"

Yusei's smile didn't waver.

"This is not—Yusei, whatever you're thinking, it is not like that."

"Of course not, Master Taiki."

"He offered to commission a piece of jewelry. That is all. A gesture of—of friendship. Between families."

"Yes, of course."

"He was being polite. Our mothers are close. It would have been rude to refuse."

"I believe you entirely, Master Taiki."

Taiki's mouth pouted. Yusei's expression remained teasing.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what, Master Taiki? I am simply sitting here."

Taiki huffed and turned back to the window, arms folded tight across his chest. His ears burned crimson above the lace of his collar.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The bell above the door had long stopped ringing.

Sekai stood at the back counter where Shunsuke kept his uncut stones, turning a pale blue sapphire between his fingers. He held it up to the light, studying the way color moved.

"So." Shunsuke leaned against the display case. "Sekai. My dear friend, the man who swore off omegas. The man who told me—and I quote—I will die alone and prefer it that way. That man just commissioned a custom necklace for an omega he is not even courting." He tilted his head. "Should I be preparing for the end of days?"

"I will take my commission to another shop if you keep talking."

"No, you won't."

Sekai set down the sapphire and picked up another. His ears burned red.

"Unfortunately, I won't."

Shunsuke's grin faded into something gentler. He crossed the space between them and rested his hand on Sekai's shoulder.

"I'm glad you found someone again, Sekai."

Sekai's hand stilled over the stones.

"Taiki is just a friend."

"You called him pretty and smart. In front of him. In my shop. With your whole chest."

"He is pretty and smart. I was stating facts."

"And you nearly crushed my wrist when I reached for his neck."

Silence. Sekai picked up a pale topaz and examined it with sudden intense focus.

Shunsuke chuckled. He patted Sekai's shoulder twice and stepped away, leaving his friend to browse stones.

The garden behind the Sato estate sat beautifully in evening. Taiki sat on a wooden bench with a book on his knee.

Taiki exhaled, and let his eyes close for a moment. The bustle layers of his evening suit pooled around the bench in soft folds of cream and gold. His honey scent drifted freely in the open air.

Then there were quick footsteps. Taiki opened one eye.

Yusei appeared around the hedge with bright eyes. "Master Taiki, Lord Yamamoto Sekai is here for you."

Taiki's book slipped. "He's—now?"

Yusei was already beside him, preparing a scent patch. She tilted his head with one hand and pressed the rectangle below his right ear, smoothing the edges against his skin.

"Yusei, I look—" Taiki gestured at at his reading attire, at his hair that he hadn't touched since noon.

"You look lovely, Master Taiki." She stepped back. "Shall I let him in?"

"Yes—yes, let him through."

Yusei dipped her chin. "Lady Takahiro is already speaking with him."

Not long after, his mother's voice floated through the garden.

"Darling! Look who has come to see you!" Takahiro rounded the hedge with her skirts swishing. Behind her, Sekai followed—a rectangular box tucked under one arm. "He brought you a gift."

Taiki stood. "Lord Sekai. What a pleasant surprise."

Sekai bowed. "Taiki."

Takahiro looked between them. "My, isn't this lovely? Sekai, you've grown so handsome since I last saw you at dinner. Don't you think so, Taiki?"

"Mother."

"What? I'm simply making an observation." She pressed a hand to her chest in mock innocence. "Wouldn't you say your mother has excellent taste in observations?"

Sekai's mouth curved. "You're very kind, Lady Sato."

"Oh, I'm very kind. And very perceptive." She patted Sekai's arm. "Make yourself at home. Enjoy the evening with my dearest Taiki. The garden is beautiful at this hour."

She moved away giggling.

Yusei bowed, and retreated to the stone bench near the far wall. Close enough for propriety, far enough for privacy.

Taiki lowered himself onto the bench and pressed both palms to his face.

Sekai chuckled. "Your mother could command armies with that energy."

"She could topple nations if she chose. The kingdom is fortunate she limits herself to tormenting her children." Taiki dropped his hands and looked up. "You could have sent a card ahead."

"I did consider it. But then I thought—where is the fun in giving you time to prepare?"

"Spoken like a man who has never been ambushed by Lady Sato without warning."

Sekai glanced at the bench. "May I?"

Taiki shifted his book to the other side. "Please."

Sekai sat. His gaze dropped to the book resting against Taiki's hip. He tilted his head to read the spine.

"The Principles of Natural Philosophy." His brow lifted. "Light evening reading?"

"It is perfectly appropriate evening reading."

"For a university scholar, perhaps."

"For anyone with curiosity and a functioning mind." Taiki lifted his chin. "Not all of us fill our evenings with sword drills and brooding."

"I don't brood."

"You absolutely brood. You brood the way other men breathe."

Something sparked in Sekai's eyes. He looked away, but Taiki caught the edge of his grin before it disappeared.

Then the grin softened. Sekai shifted, and the box appeared from under his arm. He held it between both hands for a moment.

"The commission for you is finished."

Taiki paused. Two weeks. He'd thought about it more than he would ever admit—wondered what stone Sekai had chosen, what shape, what design. He set his book aside and received the box with both hands. The velvet was soft under his fingertips.

He lifted the lid.

Against a bed of dark silk, lay a necklace—a single stone cradled in a setting of delicate gold filigree.

The stone was red. A red that seemed to hold its own light, glowing from somewhere within like an ember. The chain was fine and almost invisible, so the stone would appear to float against the hollow of a throat.

Red diamond.

Taiki knew stones. He'd studied them. Red diamond was the rarest gem in the known world. Miners could spend entire lifetimes without finding one. A single carat could purchase an estate.

He lifted the necklace from the box. He stared in awe.

"Lord Sekai, this is..." He turned the stone, watched it breathe with color. "This is beautiful. It's perfect."

He looked up. "Why red diamond?"

Sekai's posture had gone still. His hand rested on his knee, and Taiki could see the tension in his fingers.

"Because—" Sekai cleared his throat and started again.

"Red diamonds are the hardest substance on earth. They endure what other stones cannot. They're formed under immense pressure, and instead of breaking, they become something extraordinary."

Sekai's voice dropped lower. "You're brave in rooms full of people who expect you to be quiet. You're grounded when others would crumble. You're intelligent, and kind, and... rare. Not the way the world means it when they call an omega rare, like a collectible thing." His jaw tightened. "Rare the way something is rare when the world doesn't deserve it. When it exists in spite of everything trying to crush it."

Silence.

"I... forgive me. I speak too much."

Color flooded Sekai's face. It was spreading from his neck to his ears. His composure cracked, and beneath it Taiki glimpsed something raw.

He's nervous, Taiki realized. The thought bloomed warm in his chest—this man who wielded a sword without flinching, who held himself like a fortress among crowds, was sitting on a garden bench with red ears because he'd said too much about a necklace.

Taiki's own face burned. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs. But a smile broke through.

"Too much?" Taiki turned the diamond in the light once more. "That's the first time anyone has compared me to geology and made it sound like poetry."

Sekai's eyes cut back to him. A surprised laughter escaped his lips.

"I meant it as a compliment."

"I know you did." Taiki's smile widened. "You turned the color of this diamond while delivering it. That part was especially convincing."

Sekai rubbed the back of his neck. "You're cruel, Taiki."

"And you're flustered. It's a marvelous look on you, Lord Sekai. You should try it more often."

Sekai laughed again. He shook his head, but his eyes stayed on Taiki.

Taiki looked down at the necklace draped across his palm. His heart hammered.

Sekai was close—closer than propriety usually allowed on a garden bench—and Taiki wanted him closer still. Wanted to erase the distance between them. Wanted to keep this warmth, this man, this moment, pressed against his collarbone where the stone would rest.

He lifted his gaze to Sekai's eyes, and Taiki gathered every scrap of courage he had.

"Can you put it on me?"

Sekai's eyes widened and stared for a moment longer.

"Yes," Sekai whispered eventually.

Taiki's fingers trembled as he passed the necklace to Sekai. Their fingertips brushed, neither pulled away.

Sekai took the chain. He shifted closer on the bench, the fabric of his dark coat rustled against the layered ruffles of Taiki's bustle skirt.

Taiki turned his body away.

The evening air kissed his exposed neck. His wide collar left his décolletage bare, and now, with his back to Sekai, his nape was open and vulnerable. He could feel the heat of Sekai's body behind him.

Sekai's arms came around him from behind. Taiki stopped breathing.

The chain settled against his collarbone. Sekai's fingers worked at the clasp behind his neck. Each movement sparked warmth against Taiki's skin.

The clasp clicked shut.

And yet, Sekai's hands lingered. The warmth of those hands rested a breath away from his scent gland. His gland throbbed beneath the cream-colored patch. Sweet, thick honey bled through the edges of the patch, filling the narrow space between them.

He suddenly felt Sekai's breath on his neck.

Then—lips. Soft and warm, pressed against the back of his neck.

Taiki's gasp tore through the garden. His body jerked forward and he spun around on the bench.

Sekai's eyes were wide, as wide as his own. As if his own body had betrayed him and he was only now catching up to what it had done.

"I—forgive me." Sekai's voice cracked. "You looked—with the necklace that I chose, you looked even more beautiful than I—" He swallowed. His composure splintered further. "I could not stop myself from— I am sorry. That will not happen again. I should not have—"

Red consumed his face. His words stumbled over each other, and this was Sekai—Sekai who commanded rooms, now stammering like a boy caught stealing sweets.

Taiki's heart slammed against his ribs. His cheeks burned so fiercely he thought his skin might catch flame. His pulse roared in his ears. Every nerve in his body sang with the memory of that kiss on his nape.

His fingers found Sekai's cheek.

Sekai went still. His dark eyes locked onto Taiki's.

Taiki stared at him. At the sharp line of his jaw beneath his fingertips. At his parted lips. At the raw want in those dark eyes that Sekai was trying to hide.

Taiki leaned in and pressed his lips to Sekai's mouth.

The world melted.

Taiki didn't know the mechanics since he'd never kissed anyone. But his lips were against Sekai's lips warmly, and it was enough. It was everything.

He began to pull back when suddenly Sekai kissed him back.

Sekai's lips started moving against his slowly, parting just enough to capture Taiki's lower lip between them.

A whimper escaped Taiki's throat and he melted forward. His lips followed Sekai's without thought, his mouth learning the shape of Sekai's as if it had always known. Sekai's hands found his waist, pulling him closer until Taiki's chest met Sekai's coat. Honey bled freely from beneath his patch. Lemon answered—sharp and intoxicating, curling through the honey.

Sekai broke the kiss.

They stared at each other. Breaths tangled and lips swollen.

"Taiki..." Sekai's thumb traced the swell of Taiki's lower lip.

Taiki gasped for air, his lungs burned. But his eyes wouldn't leave Sekai's mouth, and the hunger in his chest was insatiable.

He wound his arms around Sekai's neck and pulled him down.

Sekai tilted his head and their mouths met again. He kissed him deeper, drawing another sweet whimper from Taiki's throat. Sekai's groan was low and rough, it vibrated against Taiki's lips and shuddered through his bones. Honey and lemon tangled in the air around them, rich and heady.

The kiss broke naturally after they needed for air. Taiki's chest heaved, his lips tingling with the ghost of Sekai's mouth.

He nuzzled Sekai's cheek. His nose dragged along his sharp jaw.

"Lord Sekai..." Taiki whispered. "Alpha. I want you, Alpha."

Sekai's breath suddenly stopped.

Taiki could feel it, so he pulled back and searched in Sekai's face.

Sadness.

"What's wrong?"

Sekai's jaw worked. His gaze dropped to the red diamond resting against Taiki's collarbone, then away—to the hedgerow, the gravel path, anywhere that wasn't Taiki's face.

"You can't have me."

Taiki's blood ran cold. "What?"

Sekai pulled away. His hands left Taiki's waist and he hunched forward on the bench, pressing his palms over his face. The distance between them gaped.

"What do you mean I can't have you?"

Sekai's fingers dragged down his face. He looked up, and the sadness had changed into something worse.

Resignation.

"I can't marry you, Taiki."

The words hit Taiki's chest painfully. A panic laugh bursted out of him.

"What do you mean? You talked to me—constantly. You danced with me at every ball. We spent—we spent so much time together." His hand flew to the red diamond at his throat. "You gave this to me! You chose this stone for me, you said it reminded you of—"

His voice wavered. Cracked.

"I know." Sekai's words came hollow. "I apologize. I didn't mean to play with you. Everything I did for you was never play. But I... I can't do this after all." He swallowed. "Let's stop this."

Heat surged behind Taiki's eyes. "You took my first kiss and you immediately want us to end?"

"You were the one who kissed me first."

A tear slipped down Taiki's cheek. "That's because you kissed my neck!"

Sekai flinched. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apology!" Taiki's voice shook. "I want an explanation!"

"BECAUSE I'M A MONSTER, TAIKI!"

The words rang loud through the garden.

Taiki stared. His lips parted but nothing came out.

Sekai exhaled.

"Everyone in the capital knows I'm a monster. Your family knows." His tone went lower. "I broke three omegas and swore off omegas since then. But then you appeared in my life, and despite my oath, I couldn't stop—thinking about you. I kept talking to you. Kept finding excuses. Giving you false hope because I can't control myself around you."

His eyes met Taiki's, and the pain in them was unbearable.

"You can't have me. And I can't have you. I will break you like the others. And I don't want to see you like that."

Too much. Too much information crashing into Taiki's mind at once, none of it fitting together, none of it making sense against the man who had held him so gently moments ago.

"I don't understand what you mean." His voice shook. Tears streamed freely now. "You broke omegas? What does that even mean?"

Sekai stood.

"It means I'm a monster, Taiki. And I will hurt you if you want me more than this."

He walked away, almost running—his dark coat swallowed by the night.

Taiki watched him go.

His head throbbed. His chest split open with a pain he had no name for. The tears wouldn't stop—pouring down his face, landing on the red diamond that was still warm against his skin.

He pressed his hands over his face and sobbed.

He heard footsteps.

"Master Taiki, are you alright?"

Taiki looked up. Yusei's face swam before him, her hands already reaching for his shoulders.

He opened his mouth and a wail came out instead of words.

He then heard another footsteps.

"Dear, Sekai left in such a hurry, I wondered what happened—" Takahiro rounded the hedge and stopped dead. "Oh, dear. What happened?"

She was beside him in an instant. The bench dipped as she gathered him into her arms, one hand cradling the back of his head, pressing his face into her chest. She looked over his head at Yusei.

Yusei cleared her throat. "They spoke privately, my lady. It seemed... amicable at first. Then they argued. Lord Sekai left abruptly."

Taiki's fingers curled into his mother's dress. His shoulders shook.

"Lord Sekai gave me a necklace, Mother." The words came muffled. "And I told him I wanted him. But he refused. He said—something about being a monster, things I didn't understand." A fresh sob wracked through him. "And then he left just like that."

Takahiro's hand stilled on his hair. Her eyes widened above him—a flash of recognition of something she'd known.

"Oh, my dearest." She pulled him closer, her chin resting atop his head. "My sweet, sweet boy."

She rocked him gently. Her gaze drifted over the dark garden, toward the path Sekai had vanished.

The food sat untouched on his plate for the third morning in a row.

Sekai stared at the poached eggs and the toast. His stomach turned. He pushed the plate away and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

The kiss replayed behind his closed lids. Taiki's mouth felt warm and clumsy. The taste of honey on his lips. And then Taiki's face crumpling with tears. The sound of his name called out behind him as he fled like a coward through the dark garden.

He had given an omega hope. Weeks and weeks of it. Riding lessons and laughter and a necklace worth more than some estates—and then he'd ripped it all away in a single night.

Monster.

The word fit. It always had.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

On the fourth day, Sekai rode out to Barrow Field.

The sprawling grounds stretched east of the capital—where gentlemen came to drill with swords and pistols. A place of sweat and bruised knuckles.

He'd promised Gan and Shunsuke weeks ago for a friendly spar. He almost sent his regrets, but the walls of his room were closing in.

Gan and Shunsuke stood near the weapons rack, already stripped down to simple white shirts and trousers, sleeves rolled to their elbows. Shunsuke was mid-sentence, gesturing with a wooden practice sword, and Gan had his arms crossed, nodding along.

Both looked up when Sekai approached.

"There he is." Shunsuke tossed him a wooden blade. "You look terrible."

Sekai caught it one-handed. "Shall we?"

Shunsuke shrugged at Gan, who settled onto a low bench at the field's edge, stretching his legs out.

They squared off. Shunsuke rolled his shoulders, adjusted his grip. Sekai widened his stance.

The first exchange lasted four seconds. Shunsuke's blade cracked against Sekai's ribs.

Sekai grunted and charged again. Shunsuke sidestepped and the flat of his sword caught Sekai's shoulder with a thwack.

"That's two."

Sekai gritted his teeth and swung wide. Shunsuke parried, redirected, and Sekai stumbled forward, his weight pitching over his front foot. He caught himself before his knee hit dirt, but barely.

"What's wrong with you?" Shunsuke lowered his blade, half-grinning. "You're swinging like a man who hasn't slept in a week."

No answer. Sekai set his jaw and lunged—a reckless overhead strike. Shunsuke pivoted left and tapped his wooden sword against Sekai's spine.

"Something is bothering you." The grin faded. Shunsuke planted his blade tip-down in the dirt and studied him.

Sekai stood with his back to him, breathing hard. He didn't turn around.

Gan rose from the bench and walked over.

"Sekai. What's weighing on you?"

Silence. Sekai stared down at the practice sword in his hand. The vision seemed blurred.

He drew a long breath through his nose.

"I kissed Taiki." A pause. "... And then I ran away."

Neither man spoke for a beat.

Shunsuke let out a disbelieving laugh. "Ran away? As in—too shy to face him after, or—"

"Ran away because you're scared." Gan's voice was quiet.

Sekai turned to him and met those brown eyes.

"...Yes."

Shunsuke scratched his jaw. "But you bought the necklace for him. I thought you'd made peace with the past."

Gan's head snapped toward Shunsuke. "What necklace?"

"He commissioned a custom piece from me. Described the omega like a lovesick poet. The way his eyes catch the light, the warmth of his skin, how the pendant needed to sit just so against his collarbone." He waved his hand. "Settled on a red diamond, of all things."

Sekai turned away. His gaze drifted across the open field, unfocused.

Then a fist seized the front of his shirt.

Gan hauled him close. The composed, gentle-mannered Gan—whose voice rarely rose above conversational tone—had a vein pulsing at his temple, his lavender scent surging sharp and collide with Sekai's lemon in the air between them.

"What in God's name have you done?" Gan's teeth bared. "I saw you with him. Riding together on horseback. I saw your banter at the Ashworth gathering—the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you. And you gave him a red diamond—a red diamond, Sekai. And then you left him? Right after a kiss?"

He shook him once. Hard.

"Have you lost your mind entirely?"

Shunsuke's sword arm dropped to his side. "Sekai. Don't tell me this has been going on for—"

"Three months." Sekai answered. "I know what I did amounts to courtship. I didn't recognize it until it was too late. I never intended to give him false hope."

Gan's knuckles whitened in Sekai's shirt.

"That's not false hope." Each word landed like a painful strike. "That's your heart speaking. You wanted to give him everything, so you gave him everything without thinking. You yearn for him, Sekai. Your instincts know it even if your stubborn head refuses to."

Sekai looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. Something fractured behind the composure he'd spent four years building.

"Even if I do yearn for him—" His voice wavered. "It's still false hope. Because I will not marry him."

"Then what do you intend to do about Sato Taiki?" Gan's lavender scent thickened, almost suffocating. "The omega is completely smitten with you. He is the Diamond of this Season, and you've crushed his heart beneath your heel."

Sekai had no answer.

Gan released Sekai's shirt and stepped back. His expression had gone cold.

"Spar with me with bare hands." Gan rolled his shoulders. 

Sekai blinked.

"I want to beat some sense into that thick skull of yours." Gan's jaw was set. "I am not letting my good friend throw away the one thing that could save him."

Sekai held his gaze. Something passed between them—years of shared silence, of letters sent across oceans, of Gan standing in his doorway the morning after the scandal while everyone else turned their backs.

He nodded.

The wooden sword hit the grass with a dull thud.

They circled each other. Gan moved first—a sharp jab that Sekai blocked too late. Knuckles caught his jaw, snapped his head sideways. He tasted copper.

Sekai swung back, but it was sloppy. His fist sailed wide, and Gan drove a hook into his ribs that folded him forward. He gasped, straightened, threw another punch that connected with nothing but air.

His mind was a storm. Taiki's tears, the necklace against pale skin, the press of soft lips that tasted like honey and trust.

Gan's fist found his stomach. Then his shoulder. Then the side of his neck, just below the scent patch, and the sting of it shot white-hot down his spine.

Shunsuke sat on the bench, his elbows rested on his knees. His mouth pressed into a thin line. He watched his two friends circle and collide like men drowning in the same sea.

Sekai blocked a cross, yet missed the follow-up. Gan's right fist cracked against his cheekbone and the world tilted.

He hit the grass on his back. The sky wheeled above him as he laid there. He was breathing heavily and could feel the blood warm on his lip.

Gan stood over him, breathing hard too, knuckles split and reddening.

Sekai didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on the sky but saw none of it. Instead, he saw brown eyes widening into perfect circles whenever something delighted them. A laugh that rang bright as a bell. Honey weaving through the air whenever the breeze caught Taiki's skin.

And the kiss. God, the kiss.

He laid his forearm across his eyes.

"I love him." The words came out broken. "That is precisely why I cannot hurt him."

Gan looked down at him. The coldness in his face softened. He then crouched beside Sekai, one knee in the grass.

"It has been four years." Gan's voice was gentle now. "You have punished yourself long enough. What happened was not your fault. If your heart has chosen Sato Taiki—and his heart has chosen you—then let it be, Sekai. Let it be."

Sekai's arm stayed over his eyes. His throat worked.

"I do not deserve him. He is the Diamond of the Season. And I am a—"

"You are Yamamoto Sekai." Shunsuke's voice cut across the field from the bench. "Son of Lord Yamamoto Kenchi, the country's most respected military noble. You are strikingly handsome, sharp-minded, and the finest swordsman either of us has ever crossed blades with." He paused. "If anyone in this godforsaken marriage market matches Sato Taiki, it is you."

Sekai's arm shifted. His eyes, bloodshot and glassy, fixed on the clouds.

"I will hurt him sooner or later. I always do."

"You don't know that." Shunsuke rose from the bench and walked toward him, hands in his pockets. "And you don't get to make that choice for him. Sato Taiki is not some fragile thing to be shielded from the world—he's sharper than half the alphas in this city. Give him the truth. Let him decide what he can bear."

Sekai said nothing. He laid in the grass with his bruised face turned to the sky.

A fiancée who fled screaming. Two broken workers in a foreign brothel who haunted his sleep still.

He could not let Taiki become the fourth.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The manor door opened as Sekai came home. His left eye had begun to swell shut, and a dark bruise bloomed along his jaw. His knuckles were raw, split in places where skin had met bone. Every step pulled something in his ribs.

He followed the corridor toward the dining room. His parents sat at opposite ends of the table. Kenchi's coat was still dusted from travel, his dark hair slicked back and damp at the temples.

"Oh, you're back, Father."

Tetsuya looked up from his plate and the color drained from his face.

"What on earth happened to you, dear?"

Kenchi's eyes swept over his son—the swollen cheek, the split lip, the way he held his left arm close to his body. His jaw tightened.

Sekai pulled out his chair and sat down. He unfolded his napkin calmly, as though the bruises weren't a problem.

"Sekai." Tetsuya's voice sharpened. "Answer me."

"Scratches. Sparring got a bit rough."

"Scratches do not blacken a man's eye."

"These ones did."

Tetsuya opened his mouth again, but Kenchi gave a quiet shake of his head.

They ate in silence for few peaceful moments before Tetsuya set down his fork. His fingers laced together on the tablecloth.

"I had tea with Lady Sato this afternoon. Our usual arrangement." He paused. "She mentioned—quite gently—that perhaps your… involvement with her family had not progressed as either of us had hoped. She did not say more than that. But I could see it troubled her." His brown eyes settled on Sekai. "Has something happened between you and Taiki?"

Sekai stared at the roast on his plate. His fork rested motionless in his hand before he set it down.

He told them everything. The riding lessons. The jewelry shop. The custom necklace—red diamond. He told them how he hadn't realized what he was doing until the pattern was already undeniable that it was pracitcally a courtship.

And then he told them he had walked away abruptly without explanation. Because he realized he'd built something he had no right to build—given hope he could never honor.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Kenchi set down his utensils. His fingers rose to his temples, pressing slow circles against the skin there.

"I did not raise a man who begins what he refuses to finish."

The words landed in Sekai's chest and twisted. Kenchi was not even angry—Sekai could have weathered anger. This was the disappointment of a father who had believed, despite everything, that his son still carried honor in his bones.

Sekai's head lowered. His bruised hands curled on the tablecloth.

"Forgive me, Father."

A chair scraped and soft footsteps rounded the table. Then warmth—Tetsuya's arms folding around him from the side, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers threading through his dark hair.

"I am sorry, my darling. I should never have schemed so recklessly with Takahiro. We pushed you before you were—"

Sekai shook his head within the circle of his mother's arms.

"Your matchmaking could only have placed us in the same room, Mother." His voice cracked. "I could have walked away at any point. I chose to stay every time. Because—" The breath he drew shuddered through his entire frame. "Because I fell in love with him."

The confession hung in the air.

Kenchi pushed back from the table.

"I need to speak with Lord Sato. Tonight, if he will receive me."

He rose and left without another word. The door closed behind him.

Sekai sat motionless in Tetsuya's arms. His swollen eye throbbed, his ribs ached. But none of it compared to the hollow thing expanding behind his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mother."

"Hush now," he murmured. He tightened his arms and pressed his lips to the crown of Sekai's head.

The carriage rolled to a stop before a beautiful townhouse on Grosvenor Lane. Taiki stepped out, smoothing the layered bustle of his mint-green suit, and looked up at the freshly painted facade.

He smiled.

The servant who answered was a young woman with kind eyes.

"Good morning. I'd like to see Alan, please. My name is Sato Taiki."

Her face brightened with recognition, and she dipped into a curtsy before disappearing inside. Taiki stood on the step, fingers fidgeting with the ribbon at his collar. The house smelled of fresh bread and beeswax, and something about it already felt warm.

The servant returned within moments and ushered him through the entrance hall. They barely made it to the sitting room doorway before a blur of blonde hair launched itself at him.

"Taiki!"

Alan collided with him hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, arms wrapping tight around his neck, his smaller frame pressing close. The bustle layers of his peach-colored suit crushed between them.

"I missed you so terribly much, you have no idea—"

Taiki giggled and squeezed back, burying his face in Alan's shoulder. "I missed you too. So much."

They pulled apart only to grab each other's hands, and Alan dragged him to the settee where they sat side by side. Alan's face glowed—tanned from the countryside, cheeks round and healthy.

"How was your honeymoon at the country?"

Alan squealed.

"Oh, Taiki. Oh, it was wonderful. We had so much fun—the estate is enormous, there's a lake, we rode horses every morning, and Hayato—" Alan pressed both hands to his own cheeks. "I swear to you he is one thousand percent more handsome than when we married. I don't know how that's possible. I love him even more than I did at the altar."

His eyes went glassy and distant, his lips curving into a dreamy smile.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Taiki said, warmth blooming in his chest.

"He's still clumsy as the day I met him. Knocked over an entire breakfast tray our second morning—scrambled eggs on the ceiling, Taiki, the ceiling—and then panicked so badly he tried to clean it with his cravat." Alan shook his head, biting down on a grin. "But it only made me love him more. He's so endearing I could eat him alive."

Taiki smiled.

Alan leaned closer, voice dropping. Color crept up his neck, but pride squared his shoulders.

"And he was so gentle in bed. It was… really good."

Taiki blinked. "What did you do on bed?"

Alan stared at him for exactly two seconds before dissolving into giggles, burying his face in Taiki's sleeve. "Oh, you sweet thing. You'll know soon enough."

He launched into the stories of the honeymoon—picnics by the river, dancing barefoot in the kitchen, Hayato nearly setting the stables on fire attempting to light a romantic lantern. Taiki listened to every word, chin propped on his hand, laughing in all the right places.

When Alan finally ran out of breath, he turned sharply on the settee, pulling one leg beneath him and fixing his gaze on Taiki.

"Enough about me. How about you, Taiki? I'm sorry I couldn't watch over you during your debut. How was the royal ball?"

Taiki tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear, fingers grazing the scent patch below it. "It was fine. I was… well, the Queen chose me as the Diamond of the Season."

Alan's mouth fell open. His hands shot forward and clasped Taiki's so tightly the knuckles went white.

"Oh my, oh dear! I knew it. I knew you would catch Her Majesty's eye! You're the prettiest omega in the entire city, you're brilliant, you're—oh, Taiki, I bet every alpha is tripping over themselves chasing you right now."

Taiki ducked his head, a shy giggle escaping through his fingers.

Alan's eyes narrowed with familiar mischief. "So? Is there an alpha courting you yet?"

"Well… many alphas have come calling." Taiki's nose wrinkled. "But most of them are infuriating. They look at me and see an omega that needs to be fixed, just because I have opinions. One told me I'd be prettier if I spoke less."

Alan threw his head back and laughed. "I hope you threw something at his head."

"I showed him the door."

"That's my Taiki." Alan grinned. "But surely someone caught your—"

"And…" Taiki's voice faded.

The sitting room went quiet.

Sekai's face surfaced behind his eyes. The way his lemon scent had wrapped around Taiki the night of the outdoor gathering, warm and sharp all at once. The weight of the red diamond necklace in its box, still sitting on Taiki's dresser where he looked at it every night before sleep.

His chest tightened.

Taiki inhaled sharply through his nose and forced a smile.

"Unfortunately, no alpha has caught my interest."

Alan watched him. The mischief drained from his face, replaced by seriousness.

"You're lying."

Taiki barely held his smile.

"Taiki." Alan's voice softened. "You're hiding something from me."

Taiki stared at his best friend. His lower lip trembled once, and water gathered along his lashes.

He laughed wetly. "I can never hide anything from you, can I?"

Alan scooted closer, their shoulders pressing together. His hand found Taiki's and held it tight.

"What's wrong, dear?"

Taiki's fingers tightened around Alan's. He looked down at their joined hands.

"There's an alpha," he whispered. "Lord Yamamoto Sekai."

The name hung in the air between them. Taiki kept his gaze low, because if he looked up now—if he saw concern or pity in Alan's face—the thin wall holding everything back would crumble.

"He's… He taught me to ride a horse. He spent weeks with me and my brother. He argued with me and teased me and made me laugh until my ribs hurt." His voice wavered. He pressed his lips together, steadied himself. "He gave me a red diamond necklace. Custom made. And then he kissed me."

His eyes grew misty.

"And then he called himself a monster and left."

Alan's brow creased. A long breath escaped through his nose.

"Out of every alpha in this city… every single one knocking down your door and sending flowers… it had to be Lord Yamamoto."

Taiki's head snapped up.

"You know something about him." Taiki searched something on Alan's face. "Alan, my family and his have been connected since before I can remember, but I haven't seen him since I was five. Fifteen years. I went away to study, and by the time I returned, he was already—gone, traveling, absent from everything. No one told me anything. What do you know that I don't?"

Alan's frown deepened. Recognition flickered across his face.

"That's right. You left for school the same year he came back and entered the marriage market. You two just kept missing each other." He rubbed his thumb across Taiki's knuckles absently, gathering his thoughts. "All right. Here's what I know."

He shifted on the settee, tucking both legs beneath him.

"Lord Yamamoto is a good alpha. A genuinely good one. His father and yours have been close for years—you know that much. He's striking to look at, sharp as a blade in conversation, and I've heard he's one of the finest swordsmen in the city." Alan paused. "I spoke with him a handful of times at balls before he stopped attending. He was kind, Taiki. Thoughtful. Not the sort of alpha who talks over you or stares at your collar."

Taiki's hands twisted in his lap.

"Then," Alan continued, his voice dropping, "I heard he was arranged to marry to another noble family. The match was already set, invitations practically printed." His gaze held Taiki's. "Before the wedding, he went into an unexpected rut. And he—he broke the omega."

Taiki's eyes widened.

"I never learned exactly what 'broke' meant. No one spoke of it plainly. But the omega wept to her parents, and the family called off the engagement that same night. The story spread through every drawing room in the city within a week." Alan's jaw tightened. "Lord Yamamoto was devastated. After that, he stopped attending balls altogether. He left the country—journeys abroad, one after another. He barely comes home."

The clock on the mantel filled the silence. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Taiki released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His lips parted, but nothing came. His chest felt hollow.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Taiki's voice broke. "Why did he just—leave? He called himself a monster and walked out the door without a single explanation. If he'd asked me, if he'd sat down and talked to me, we could have discussed it. We could have figured out how to handle it together."

Alan shook his head before Taiki even finished. He moved closer, pressing his palm firmly against Taiki's arm.

"Taiki. You don't know what an alpha in rut is like. You've never seen it. You've never been near it. And what happened to him—that scandal—it made everything worse. He's not thinking clearly about this. He hasn't been for four years."

Taiki pondered for a while.

"You're right. I don't know. But that doesn't mean I can't." His brown eyes lifted, red-rimmed. "He doesn't get to make that choice for me."

His chin trembled.

"If he didn't want me—if he never intended any of it—then why did he give me a diamond necklace? Why did he hold me? Why did he kiss me like I was the only person left in the world?" His voice splintered into something raw. "Why, Alan?"

Alan pulled him close. Taiki's forehead dropped against Alan's shoulder, his fingers clutching the peach fabric of Alan's suit, and the tears he'd held finally fell, soaking into his best friend's collar.

Alan said nothing and just held him tight.

The door to the sitting room creaked.

"Ah—good morning! Or, well, nearly afternoon, I suppose—"

Hayato stood in the doorway, balancing a tray of wrapped parcels and a plate of sugared biscuits. His smile faltered as he registered the scene—two omegas tangled on the settee, one of them clearly crying.

He cleared his throat.

"I sincerely apologize for interrupting your—your moment. I can see it's quite emotional in here." He lifted the tray helplessly. "But I brought souvenirs from the countryside, and I must leave for the gentlemen's club shortly, so I thought—before I go—"

Alan pulled back from Taiki and fixed his husband with a glare, eyes still damp from secondhand tears.

"Hayato, you absolute walnut. Read the room!"

Hayato's mouth cringed as the tray wobbled.

A giggle bubbled up through Taiki's tears. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and shook his head.

"It's all right, Alan. Really." He sniffed, offering Hayato a watery smile. "Thank you for the souvenirs, Lord Komori."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Silver cutlery clinking against plates in today's peaceful dinner. Roast pheasant was at the center of the table, surrounded by vegetables and fresh bread. Keito attacked her plate with enthusiasm. Akira cut his meat slowly. Takahiro sipped her wine, watching Taiki over the rim of her glass.

Taiki had barely touched his food. His fork pushed a piece of potato from one side of the plate to the other, leaving a trail through the sauce.

He set down his fork.

"Father. Mother."

Akira looked up. Takahiro lowered her glass.

"Do you know about Lord Sekai's scandal?"

Akira's knife paused. His dark eyes found Takahiro's across the table, and something passed between them. Takahiro closed her eyes. Akira set his cutlery down.

Takahiro exhaled through her nose.

"Yes, dear. We know."

Taiki's fingers curled against the tablecloth. Heat climbed his neck, flushing with anger. His brown eyes looked wounded.

"Then why didn't you tell me? I had to hear it from Alan." His voice cracked on the name. "My best friend knew before I did. Everyone in this city seems to know before I did."

Akira folded his hands together.

"We wanted Sekai to explain it to you himself, Taiki. It was his story to tell. Not ours."

Taiki's chair scraped against the floor as he stood.

"As if he explained anything! He walked out the door without a single word. He took my heart with him and left me there like a fool, and I—" His voice buckled. He pressed his knuckles against the table. "I don't know what to do with what's left."

"Dear, please wait—"

Takahiro reached for him, but Taiki was already moving. His bustle skirt swayed behind him as he crossed the room. The dining room door closed behind him.

Silence filled the dining room.

Keito chewed and swallowed. She then glanced at her brother's abandoned plate—pheasant barely touched, potatoes cooling in their sauce.

"Can I have Brother's food?"

Takahiro's hand shot across the table and smacked Keito's reaching fingers.

"No."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Taiki's bedroom was dark save for the single candle on his bedside table. He lay curled on his side, face buried in a pillow, the bustle layers of his suit bunched and creased beneath him. His shoulders shook without sound. Tears soaked the linen pillowcase, his breath came in stuttered gasps that he pressed into the fabric to muffle.

The door opened and the bed dipped.

Warm arms wrapped around him from behind. Takahiro pressed her cheek against the back of his head and held him tight, the way she'd held him as a child.

Taiki didn't push her away. His hand found hers and gripped it.

Minutes passed. His sobbing slowed to hitching breaths, then to silence broken only by the occasional wet inhale.

"When you came home from the royal ball that night," Takahiro murmured against his hair, "you couldn't stop talking about him. How rude he was. How insufferable." A small, sad smile colored her voice. "I went to Tetsuya for a tea immediately. And do you know what he responded?"

Taiki said nothing, but he didn't pull away.

"He said his son—the one who hadn't looked at an omega, hadn't reacted to one in four years—came home that night and mentioned an omega who argued with him at a ball." Her thumb traced circles on Taiki's knuckles. "So we arranged more meetings. More chances for you two to actually speak, to see each other properly."

"You should have told me," Taiki whispered.

"Perhaps. But the truth of what happened to Sekai—he barely speaks of it, even to his own parents. Only he carries the full weight of that story. If he chose to give himself a chance with you, I wanted you to hear it from his mouth. Not through gossip. Not through us."

Taiki's laugh was bitter.

"He gave us a chance and snatched it back the moment it became real."

Silence settled again. Takahiro held him.

"Mother." Taiki's voice was small, muffled against the pillow. "I still don't understand what they mean when they call him monster." He turned to face Takahiro, his red-rimmed eyes catching the candlelight. "Is an alpha's rut truly that dangerous?"

Takahiro hummed.

"An alpha's rut varies from person to person. Some experience it mildly—a fever, nothing more. Others..." She paused, choosing her words with care. "Others lose themselves to it entirely. The intensity can be overwhelming. Frightening, even, for the alpha themselves."

Taiki's fingers tightened around hers.

"But here is what I know to be true, and what no amount of gossip will ever change." Takahiro shifted, looking down at her son's tear-stained face. "An alpha will never harm their mate. Not when the love is genuine."

"There are marriages in this world built on contracts and convenience—you've seen them. Cold unions where two strangers share a name and nothing else. But you and Sekai... you didn't start from obligation. You started from irritation."

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

"Tetsuya and I watched you circle each other like two cats with their hackles raised. And then slowly, the claws retracted. The hissing stopped. Something softer grew in its place. An alpha who loves, truly loves, would sooner destroy himself than lay a harmful hand on the person he cherishes."

Taiki's jaw clenched.

"He ran away from me, Mother. He kissed me and then he left. That isn't love."

Takahiro tilted her head.

"Is it? Think carefully, dear. His words to you—every one of them. His actions. The way he looked at you, spoke to you, touched you. Do those things belong to a man who feels nothing?"

Taiki opened his mouth to argue.

Then closed it.

The riding lessons. His hands steady on Taiki's waist as he lifted him onto the saddle. The way Sekai's voice dropped when he leaned close, breath warm against Taiki's ear, teasing him about his grip on the reins. The sword training with Keito, where Sekai's gaze kept drifting across the field to where Taiki sat reading under the oak tree. The jewelry shop. Sekai's fingers brushing his as he fastened the clasp of the red diamond necklace around Taiki's throat.

The kiss. Gentle and yet desperate. Like a man drinking water after years in a desert.

Heat flooded Taiki's cheeks. He buried his face into Takahiro's chest.

"I think he is terrified of himself. Of what he believes he might become if he lets himself have this," Takahiro said softly.

Taiki breathed slowly, in and out. Takahiro's chest was warm against his skin.

"Then there is nothing I can do." Taiki concluded. "If he isn't ready, if he can't bring himself to stay—I cannot force his hand."

Silence wrapped the room. Takahiro's fingers combed through his brown hair.

"There are other alphas." Taiki's throat bobbed. "Plenty of them. Surely one among them will be kinder. One who will let me stand beside him and choose for myself, instead of severing every thread between us without even asking whether I agreed."

Takahiro's arms wound tighter around him. She pulled him close, her chin resting on the crown of his head.

"Of course, dear."

The Belmont ballroom blazed with crystal chandeliers. Taiki stood between his father and mother at the top of the stairs, chin lifted, the layered bustle of his ivory suit cascading behind him in pale blue ruffles. His wide collar bared his décolletage, the scent patch visible below his right ear. He scanned the crowd.

No dark spiky hair. No lemon scent cutting through the perfumed air.

He swallowed and looked away.

"Shall we?" Takahiro linked her arm through his, her blonde curls piled high and pinned with sapphires.

Taiki nodded.

They descended. Akira followed half a step behind.

The whispers began before they reached the bottom stair.

Takahiro steered him toward a cluster of nobles near the far windows, and Taiki let himself be led. She introduced him to Lord Fujiwara—a broad-shouldered alpha with silver at his temples, and Taiki bowed and smiled. Then came Sir Oda, young and eager. Taiki greeted him with the same warmth. Then a third, a fourth.

The crowd noticed.

"Is that the Sato omega? Speaking to Lord Fujiwara?"

"I heard he finally saw the monster in Lord Yamamoto. Wise boy."

"Took him long enough. I suppose even diamonds can be fooled for a time—"

Taiki's jaw clenched, his fingers curled at his side. He turned his head toward the cluster of fans and half-hidden mouths—

Takahiro's hand settled on his arm.

"Let them talk."

Taiki exhaled through his nose, but he obeyed.

The alphas blurred together. Lord Fujiwara spent the entirety of their conversation addressing Taiki's chest rather than his face. Sir Oda laughed when Taiki mentioned his studies abroad and asked, what use an omega had for books when nature had already given him his purpose.

The third alpha—whose name Taiki had already discarded—rested his hand on Taiki's lower back without invitation, murmuring something about Diamond of the Season needing careful handling. Taiki sidestepped, the movement disguised as adjusting his bustle.

The fourth attempted to scent-mark his wrist during a handshake, pressing his thumb against Taiki's pulse point until Taiki twisted free with a smile sharp enough to cut glass.

The fifth spoke exclusively to Akira about Taiki's breeding prospects as though Taiki were a horse at auction.

The sixth—the sixth sniffed him. Just leaned in, inhaled and said, "Honey. Delicious."

Taiki grabbed Takahiro's arm.

"Mother. I need to rest."

Takahiro glanced at his face and sighed.

"Come."

They drifted toward the refreshment table. Taiki reached for a glass of lemonade at the same moment another hand did.

Both Taiki and the stranger pulled back.

"Forgive me." The alpha's voice was warm. "Please—you first."

Taiki looked up. Tanned skin. Dark short hair. A kind face. The alpha stood at comfortable distance.

"Lord Sawamoto!" Takahiro's voice brightened behind Taiki's shoulder.

The alpha turned and bowed. "Lady Sato. A pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is mine. It has been years—your father mentioned you were managing business abroad." Takahiro touched Taiki's elbow. "Allow me to introduce my son. Taiki—this is Lord Sawamoto Natsuki, son of the Duke Sawamoto."

Sawamoto bowed. Taiki returned it.

"Mr. Sato. An honor."

"Lord Sawamoto."

Takahiro drifted toward a nearby acquaintance, leaving them at the table's edge.

"My mother mentioned you were managing business abroad?" Taiki picked up the lemonade glass.

"In Valdenne, yes. Trade negotiations, mostly. Three years of paperwork and bad weather. I only just returned last month." Sawamoto's mouth curved. "And you? Is this your debut season?"

"It is. I studied abroad as well—etiquette, languages, some literature. This is my first year in the marriage market."

"You studied literature abroad?" Sawamoto's brows rose.

Taiki paused and decide to test the waters. "Languages and classical texts, mostly. Though I find most alphas lose interest the moment I mention it."

"Then most alphas are fools."

Sawamoto said it the way someone say the sky is blue.

Taiki laughed. "It is rare to hear an alpha say so."

"It shouldn't be." Sawamoto's dark eyes held steady. "Omegas deserve access to every door alphas walk through without thinking. Education chief among them."

Taiki studied him. The easy posture, the respectful distance. The absence of lust in his gaze.

"Well." Taiki's smile reached his eyes for the first time that evening. "That is good to hear."

Sawamoto smiled back. They stood together, sipping lemonade, talking about Valdenne's coastline and the libraries Taiki had loved abroad. The conversation moved without force, just two people discovering each other.

After a while, Sawamoto's gaze dropped to the small card dangling from Taiki's wrist. The dancing card, still half-empty.

"Would you honor me with a dance, Mr. Sato?" Sawamoto smiled warmly and extended his hand.

Taiki looked at it and his chest tightened. He closed his eyes.

After a beat, he opened his eyes and placed his hand in Sawamoto's.

The orchestra played a slow waltz as they took the floor. Sawamoto's hand rested at Taiki's waist carefully. Taiki's palm settled against Sawamoto's chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath.

They moved together in sync.

Sawamoto looked down at him and smiled, warm as afternoon light.

Taiki looked up and smiled back.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The first calling card arrived the morning after the Belmont ball: Lord Sawamoto Natsuki requests the pleasure of a visit with Mr. Sato Taiki, at the family's convenience.

Taiki turned it over in his fingers, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Show him in."

Sawamoto sat across from Taiki in the drawing room. Takahiro occupied the chaise near the far wall, needle pulling through linen in slow strokes.

"The problem," Taiki said, leaning forward, "is that the curriculum assumes omegas cannot grasp mathematics beyond household accounting. As though managing an estate's finances requires no understanding of interest rates or investment."

"It is insulting." Sawamoto set his cup down. "In Valdenne, omega students sit the same examinations as alphas. Their pass rates are comparable—sometimes higher."

Taiki's eyes widened. "Truly?"

"I visited one of the academies myself. The headmistress was an omega. Brilliant woman. She would have liked you, I think."

Taiki's cheeks colored. He looked down at his tea then back up, brown eyes bright. "I would have liked to meet her."

"Perhaps one day you will."

Across the room, Takahiro glanced over the rim of her embroidery hoop, watched the two of them leaning toward each other and smiled.

The visits became routine.

Sawamoto Natsuki arrived at the same hour each afternoon—never early enough to seem desperate, never late enough to seem careless. He brought small gifts. A book of Valdennian poetry one day. A tin of foreign tea the next. Nothing extravagant, but still dearly.

They talked about everything. Trade policy. Literature. The absurdity of requiring omegas to embroider but forbidding them from reading philosophy. Taiki would argue a point with fire in his voice, gesturing animatedly, and Sawamoto would nod, chin resting on his fist, watching him with open admiration.

"You are right," Sawamoto said one afternoon, after Taiki had spent ten minutes dismantling the logic behind omega curfew laws. "Entirely right. I cannot argue with a single point."

Taiki blinked as he waited for the caveat.

None came.

Taiki then laughed.

Keito discovered Sawamoto on his fourth visit.

She burst into the drawing room still in her training clothes, sword belt slung across her hip. She stopped short at the sight of the stranger.

"Brother, who is—"

"Lord Sawamoto, my sister Sato Keito. Keito—Lord Sawamoto Natsuki."

Keito narrowed her eyes, assessing him.

"Do you fight?"

"Poorly," Sawamoto admitted. "But I admire those who do."

"I have been working on a riposte from low guard. Most people say it is too aggressive for a lady."

Sawamoto's hand rose and pat her head.

"Show me sometime. I would like to see it."

Keito's suspicion cracked, and a grin split her face.

After that, she appeared at every visit. She sat on the floor by Taiki's feet and talked about blade angles and cavalry formations while Sawamoto listened, nodded, patted her head and told her she would make a fine knight.

Akira met Sawamoto properly on the sixth visit. They shook hands in the study, and within twenty minutes, Akira had spread shipping manifests across his desk.

"The eastern corridor is underserved. Three ports, no reliable warehouse network."

Sawamoto leaned over the map. "Valdenne solved this with bonded storage agreements. Shared risk, shared profit. I could introduce you to two merchants who pioneered the model."

Akira looked at him.

"Stay for dinner, Lord Sawamoto."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The bouquet arrived at half-past ten—white camellias and pale pink peonies arranged in a crystal vase, a cream card tucked between the stems. Taiki lifted the vase from the tray the maid presented and brought it to the window seat. He turned the arrangement slowly and smiled.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

Takahiro settled beside him, her hand rising to stroke his brown hair. Her smile was faint as she watched her son lean into the flowers and breathe.

Across the room, Keito sat cross-legged on the sofa with a plate of shortbread on her knee. She chewed one as she studied her brother's face.

"Are you happy, Brother?"

Taiki looked up from the camellias. "Of course I am happy. Lord Sawamoto is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He listens to me—truly listens, not like most alphas who pretend to while waiting for their turn to speak. He believes omegas deserve education and choice. He has never once spoken over me or looked at me as though I were something to be managed."

Taiki smiled brightly as he added, "and he is the eldest son of a duke. A future duchess's title would not be so terrible a fate."

Keito stopped chewing.

"I don't know, Brother." Her voice was quiet, stripped of its usual playful tone. "Your lips smile, but your eyes don't. That's why I'm asking—are you really happy?"

Taiki's hand stilled on the peony he'd been stroking. His fingers curled around the stem.

"I am happy." The words came out sharp and sudden. He turned to face her fully, color rising in his cheeks. "You are seventeen, Keito. You spend your days swinging swords and eating biscuits. What could you possibly understand about courtship? About what it means to find someone who respects you?"

Keito just stared at him and said nothing. Her plate sat forgotten on her knee.

"Now, now—both of you, enough of this." Takahiro's hand left Taiki's hair. "There is no need to—"

Taiki didn't hear her. He was already crossing the room until he stood over the sofa where Keito sat.

He looked down at her and she looked up. Neither blinked.

"I AM HAPPY." Taiki repeated himself like a broken record. "Lord Sawamoto is kind. He values my mind. He never argues with me, never makes me feel small."

"And when he asks for my hand—when, Keito, not if—I will be a duchess. A DUCHESS! I will have standing, influence, a seat at tables where omegas are never invited." His chest heaved. "So do not sit there with your shortbread and tell me my eyes are wrong!"

Keito held his gaze, not even flinching. She sat perfectly still and calm—and somehow, that was worse than any argument she could have thrown back.

"Yes, of course, Brother." Her voice was level. "You need not shout. I only asked."

The air in the room went tight.

Taiki stared at her. His mouth opened—then closed immediately. The anger drained from his face slowly, leaving something rawer underneath.

Why am I defending this so hard?

The thought surfaced before he could stop it. He crushed the thought and turned on his heel. His bustle caught the edge of the side table as he swept from the drawing room without another word.

The door clicked shut behind him.

"Mother." Keito stared at Takahiro. "You actually see it too, don't you?"

Takahiro's hands rested in her lap. She gazed at the closed door for a long moment, the faint smile gone from her face entirely.

"Let us simply... hope your brother finds what he needs." She exhaled. "Whatever that turns out to be."

The courtship of Sawamoto Natsuki proceeded steadily.

He called on the Sato household every Tuesday and Thursday. He brought flowers—always camellias, because Taiki had mentioned once that he liked them, and Sawamoto never forgot a single detail. He accompanied Taiki on walks through Hyde Park, his arm always offered at the correct angle, his pace always adjusted to match Taiki's shorter stride. He asked about Taiki's reading. He asked about Taiki's opinions on omega education reform. He nodded along to every answer.

He agreed with everything.

Everything.

"I believe omegas should be permitted to own property independently," Taiki said one afternoon as they strolled along the Serpentine. "Not merely through their alpha spouse's name, but in their own right. Under their own signature."

"Absolutely." Sawamoto's voice was warm. "You are entirely correct, Mr. Sato. The current laws are a disgrace."

Taiki paused. Some stubborn part of him wanted Sawamoto to push back, to question the legal framework, to poke at the idea until it either shattered or grew stronger.

"I think the reform should begin with land ownership in the countryside, not in city." Taiki continued, voicing a rather insane ideas, baiting Sawamoto to question him.

"A brilliant observation. Rural omegas suffer the most under the current system."

Taiki bit his inside cheek. The sentence he'd prepared—his rebuttal, the argument he'd been sharpening in his mind—dissolved on his tongue. Because there was nothing to defend against.

He smiled and changed the subject.

It happened again three days later. And again the week after that. Each conversation slid along smooth and pleasantly. Sawamoto listened with genuine attention. His dark eyes never wandered. His responses never condescended.

But they never challenged, either.

Taiki began to recognize the pattern.

Sawamoto did not treat omegas as lesser. That much was true and valuable. But he did not treat them as equals either. He treated them as something precious. Sacred, even—placed on a pedestal so high that disagreement felt like desecration.

A jewel behind glass. Made to be beautiful and admired. Never got to be touched roughly enough to test whether it could withstand pressure.

And Taiki could find no fault in it. That was the cruelest part.

Sawamoto meant no harm. His kindness was genuine. He simply believed that omegas deserved to be elevated and cherished beyond question.

But Taiki wanted to be questioned.

He buried the confusion deep and smiled wider.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The garden picnic was Sawamoto's idea. A blanket spread beneath the old oak with sandwiches and pastries on it. Other couples dotted the lawn at respectable distances.

Sawamoto reached into his coat pocket.

"I have something for you."

The velvet green box was small. Inside, a choker-style rivière necklace lay against cream silk—tiny emeralds set along a delicate gold chain, each stone catching light prettily.

Taiki's breath hitched. "It is beautiful."

"You remind me of emeralds." Sawamoto's voice was soft. "Vivid and rare. The kind of stone that makes everything around it look dull by comparison."

"Thank you, Lord Sawamoto." Taiki answered shyly.

"May I?" Sawamoto gestured toward Taiki's neck.

Taiki nodded.

Sawamoto moved behind him. Warm fingers lifted the necklace, careful not to disturb the scent patch below Taiki's right ear. The clasp clicked into place.

He came back around, his gaze traveling over Taiki's face with an expression so open, that it almost hurt to witness.

Sawamoto raised one hand and touched Taiki's cheek. His thumb brushed the skin there.

He smiled like a man in love.

Taiki smiled back.

And felt, with a dawning realization, that the smile stopped just below his eyes. Exactly the way Keito had said.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The Pleasure Gardens was a bit crowded that afternoon.

Taiki walked with his hand tucked into the crook of Sawamoto's arm. The layers of his bustle skirt swayed behind him in pale blue and cream, catching the eye of more than a few passing couples.

Behind them, Takahiro maintained a distance, parasol on one shoulder. Close enough to chaperone, but far enough to pretend she wasn't listening.

Sawamoto glanced down at Taiki's throat that was decorated with the emeralds.

"That necklace was made for you." He said, admiring. "Truly. I cannot imagine it on anyone else. You look stunning, Mr. Sato."

The compliment was pleasant. But Taiki tilted his chin up, let his brown eyes go wide in mock offense.

"So I look ugly without it, then?"

He kept his face expectant, lips pressed together to hold back the grin.

Come on. Push back. Tell me I'm being ridiculous. Roll your eyes.

Sawamoto stopped walking.

"I—forgive me." His brow creased, distress flickering across his face. "That is not at all what I intended. If my words gave you the impression that your beauty depends on any ornament, I am deeply sorry. You are radiant with or without—"

"Lord Sawamoto." Taiki squeezed his arm. "I was joking."

The crease between Sawamoto's brows deepened before it smoothed. He eventually exhaled. "I would not joke about you, Mr. Sato. You are far too precious to me for that."

"Yes, I am aware," Taiki smiled.

Something sharp pressed behind his ribs. He had known this would happen. He had dangled the bait anyway, hoping that just once, Sawamoto would snap it up and volley something back. A raised eyebrow. A dry retort. Anything with teeth.

Instead, he got an apology. It was suffocating in its sincerity.

Taiki swallowed the disappointment and guided them forward again.

They walked deeper into the gardens, past a fountain where children tossed coins, past vendors selling iced lemon water and sugared almonds. Sawamoto bought two glasses and handed one to Taiki. They shared a plate of shortbread on a bench beneath a willow, and Sawamoto told him about the new foals born at his family's country estate—three fillies, all chestnut.

Taiki listened. He asked questions. He laughed in the right places.

It was lovely. All of it.

They strolled again. Taiki slipped his hand back into the crook of Sawamoto's arm, fingers curling against the dark sleeve. Sawamoto was saying something about the fillies' names—something about wildflowers—and Taiki nodded along, his gaze drifting over the crowd.

Then the crowd parted, and there he was.

Dark hair and sharp jaw. That particular way he carried himself. In a maroon coat, Sekai walked alone along the opposite path, hands clasped behind his back.

Their eyes met.

Taiki's chest seized. Sekai's stride faltered before he caught himself.

Taiki shut his eyes and drew a very long breath.

Keep walking. Keep walking. He is a stranger on a path. He is gravel. He is elm bark. He is nothing.

He opened his eyes and fixed them forward, tightening his grip on Sawamoto's arm.

"Lord Yamamoto!"

Taiki's stomach lurched.

Sawamoto had already lifted his free hand in greeting, his face bright with recognition. He then bowed politely.

Sekai stopped, dark eyes settling on Sawamoto's face.

"... Forgive me. I don't believe I can place your face."

Sawamoto only smiled wider. "Sawamoto Natsuki, eldest son of Duke Sawamoto Keiji." He straightened from his bow. "We met three years ago, in Calais. You pulled me out of the harbor after my boat capsized during that storm, and then spent a few days teaching me basic fighting and hold a blade without cutting my own fingers off."

Sekai's brow furrowed. His gaze drifted sideways for a moment and then something clicked in his eyes.

"Ah. Lord Sawamoto. The duke's son." A slow nod. "Yes. Calais."

"Yes!" Sawamoto's voice rang with delight.

A small smile crossed Sekai's mouth.

"Now I remember. I was furious with you." He tilted his head. "A nobleman's heir wandering foreign ports without a single useful skill to his name. You couldn't even swim, let alone fighting. I told you any thief with a dull knife could have robbed you blind."

Sawamoto laughed. "And you were entirely right. I was hopelessly unprepared. I still practice the drills you taught me, you know."

"Good." Sekai then bowed slightly. "My apologies for not recognizing you at once, Lord Sawamoto."

"Please, think nothing of it. It was a brief encounter—a week at most." Sawamoto's expression softened. "But I have remembered it vividly every day since. You are one of the people who saved my life. I owe you a debt I cannot repay, Lord Yamamoto. Truly."

Sekai said nothing and just inclined his head.

"And what brings you home to our shores? I had heard you were abroad," Sawamoto asked.

"My mother insisted I return. Though I've been here nearly four months now, so I may..." His gaze slid sideways and found Taiki. "... embark on another journey soon."

Taiki dropped his eyes to the gravel path and studied a very fascinating pebble.

Leaving. He is leaving the country again. The thought drove his heart crazy. His fingers trembled slightly against Sawamoto's arm.

Sawamoto nodded admiringly. "Such courage, to see the world as you do. Most men only dream of it."

Then Sawamoto placed his hand over Taiki's and drew him gently forward.

"But where are my manners—allow me to introduce Mr. Sato Taiki, whom I have the great honor of courting."

Taiki's head snapped toward Sawamoto, then toward Sekai.

Sekai had gone still. His eyes widened, and for one beat his composure cracked. Taiki saw it—the fracture in his jaw, the way his throat moved.

Then the mask slid back into place.

"How fortunate for you, Lord Sawamoto."

Taiki's heart clenched.

Sekai turned to him and gave a polite nod.

"Mr. Sato."

Their eyes held and Taiki's vision wavered. He searched Sekai's face for something, anything—a crack, a flinch, some remnant of what he'd just glimpsed.

Sekai gave him nothing.

Taiki swallowed and counted to three in his heart.

"Lord Yama-moto."

His voice splintered on the second syllable.

Sekai reached into his coat and withdrew a pocket watch, flipping it open. "I'm afraid I'm expected at the Harrington offices before the hour. I must take my leave." He snapped it shut. "Have a good day. Lord Sawamoto. Mr. Sato."

Sawamoto bowed. Taiki managed a nod, his chin dipping mechanically.

Sekai turned and walked past them. Taiki's head followed—he couldn't stop it—to watch Sekai's retreating back. Sekai paused where Takahiro stood beneath her parasol.

"Lady Sato."

Takahiro's parasol tilted. Surprise flashed across her face before she gave a polite smile. "Lord Yamamoto."

Then Sekai walked through the crowd and did not look back.

"Mr. Sato?"

Taiki blinked. Sawamoto's warm eyes searched his face.

"Forgive me." Taiki turned back and gave Sawamoto a sweet smile. "The sun caught my eye for a moment. Shall we continue? I believe you were telling me about the fillies."

He tucked his hand tighter into Sawamoto's arm and pulled them forward down the path.

The rest of the walk felt like background noise.

Taiki only registered fragments—Sawamoto's voice, something about the gardens being redesigned next spring, something about a charity concert his mother was organizing.

Taiki nodded. He said "How lovely" twice. "Indeed" three times. He asked no follow-up questions and could not recall a single answer Sawamoto gave to his own sparse offerings.

None of it reached him.

His mind had emptied itself. Every thought he tried to form collapsed back into the same shape—leaving, he said leaving—and he crushed each one before it could fully surface.

Sawamoto, to his credit, did not press. He walked at Taiki's pace, pointed out a pair of swans on the ornamental lake as though the silence between them was companionable rather than hollow.

The sky was orange by the time they circled back toward the garden entrance.

Takahiro climbed into the Sato carriage first, gathering her skirts with one hand and her folded parasol with the other. She settled against the cushioned seat without a word, though her eyes lingered on Taiki's face for a beat too long.

Taiki released Sawamoto's arm. "Thank you for today, Lord Sawamoto. It was fun."

Sawamoto studied him. Those dark, kind eyes moved across Taiki's face. Whatever he found there, he tucked it away behind his usual warmth.

"The pleasure was entirely mine, Mr. Sato. Your company is a gift I do not take lightly. You challenged me on three separate points of agricultural policy over shortbread and made me reconsider every one of them." His smile deepened. "Beauty and brilliance in equal measure. I am the most fortunate man in these gardens."

He reached down and took Taiki's hand. The touch was familiar—palm against palm, fingers curling gently around Taiki's smaller ones.

"Be careful on the way home."

Taiki smiled. "Thank you."

Sawamoto's thumb traced across Taiki's knuckles. A gesture they had settled into weeks ago.

Then Sawamoto lifted Taiki's hand, about to kiss the back of his hand—

Taiki yanked it back.

The motion was sharp. His hand flew to his own chest and pressed there.

Sawamoto's hand hung in the air.

They stared at each other. Taiki's eyes blew wide, his lips gasped involuntarily.

The silence stretched.

"Forgive me." Sawamoto's hand dropped to his side. His jaw tightened. "That was—I overstepped. I had no right. I am—" He exhaled hard through his nose. "A disgrace. An alpha who cannot even read the simplest boundaries. I am deeply, sincerely sorry, Mr. Sato."

"No—" Taiki's voice cracked. "No, Lord Sawamoto, please. It was a reflex. I did not—it is not that I find you repulsive or—I do not hate you. Please do not think that."

"The fault is mine alone." Sawamoto's voice lacked its usual brightness. "I should have asked. I will not make this mistake again."

Taiki wanted to say something, but he couldn't. Because he didn't even know why he yanked his own hand in the first place.

He eventually sighed.

"Goodbye, Lord Sawamoto."

"Goodbye, Mr. Sato."

Taiki climbed into the carriage and the footman closed the door. The wheels ran over gravel, and Taiki twisted in his seat, looking back through the small rear window.

Sawamoto stood where he'd left him. He was watching the carriage with hands clasped behind his back.

And he was smiling warmly as usual, like nothing happened.

The Viscount Harrington's ball occupied every corner of his enormous estate. Music spilled from the ballroom's open doors into the entrance hall, where footmen in guided arriving guests toward the receiving line.

Taiki stepped down from the carriage in a cream suit with lavender bustle layers behind him. The emerald necklace at beautifully at his throat. Takahiro followed, radiant in a gown of champagne silk, her blonde hair swept elegantly.

Keito bounded out last, already scanning the room beyond the doors.

"I can smell the marzipan from here."

"You are here to accompany your brother," Takahiro reminded her.

"I am here to accompany the dessert table. Brother is merely the excuse."

Taiki flicked her ear. She grinned and hooked her arm through his as they entered.

The ballroom filled with conversation and the clink of glassese. Couples turned on the dance floor. Clusters of nobles gathered along the walls, fans fluttering as they exchanged the latest gossips. Taiki had barely taken ten steps inside when a familiar figure approached.

Sawamoto wore a dark green suit, impeccable cravat, and the usual warmth radiating from him. He stopped before them and bowed.

"Lady Sato. Mr. Sato. Miss Sato. What a pleasure to see you all this evening."

Taiki smiled. "Lord Sawamoto. Good evening."

"Do you come alone?" Taiki glanced past Sawamoto's shoulder at the empty space behind him.

Sawamoto nodded. "Father and Mother send their regrets. There is a meeting with the Privy Council regarding the northern trade routes—Father's presence was required, and Mother insisted on attending as well. She does not trust him to remember all the figures on his own."

Takahiro laughed. "A wise woman. Lord Sato is the same. He had business with the harbor commission tonight. I suspect he will return home smelling of pipe smoke and having agreed to something he cannot recall."

Sawamoto's eyes crinkled. "The burdens of duty. Father says the paperwork alone could fill the Thames."

"Father says something similar about his ledgers," Taiki offered.

They exchanged quiet pleasantries—Sawamoto asking after Lord Sato's shipping ventures, Taiki inquiring about the Sawamoto estate's new foals.

Sawamoto's gaze drifted to Taiki's throat, and his expression softened.

"You wore the necklace again."

Taiki's fingers rose to the emerald without thinking. "It matched the embroidery on my cuffs."

"It suits you. I am glad."

Around them, heads turned. Fans tilted to shield whispered mouths.

The Diamond and Lord Sawamoto—what a beautiful pair. Such a match would be the triumph of the season.

Keito had already vanished toward the refreshment table.

Sawamoto fetched two glasses of lemonade and handed one to Taiki. They drifted toward a quieter spot near the windows, and conversation flowed easily enough—the weather, the orchestra's choice of music, and whether the Viscount's gardens rivalled the Pleasure Gardens.

"I read something interesting this week," Taiki said, swirling his glass. "A pamphlet arguing that omega-owned businesses should receive the same guild protections as alpha-owned ones. The author made a compelling case that current restrictions suppress nearly a third of potential commerce."

"I could not agree more. Omegas deserve every protection and opportunity available."

Taiki nodded and sipped his lemonade.

The second topic arrived when Taiki mentioned a controversial proposal circulating among reform-minded nobles—that omegas should sit on parish councils.

"Some would call that radical," Taiki said, tilting his chin up. "After all, parish councils handle land disputes. Surely you think omegas too delicate for such contentious work?"

He watched Sawamoto's face and waited for the pushback. The narrowed eyes and sharp retort—

"Not at all. You are absolutely right. Omegas are more than capable. I would support such a measure wholeheartedly." Sawamoto paused, then added, "In fact, I believe I initially thought parish work might overwhelm anyone regardless of gender, but hearing your perspective, I see I was mistaken. You are correct."

He changed his mind mid-sentence to match Taiki's. How remarkable.

Taiki smiled. His fingers tightened around the glass.

He agreed with you. He supports you. Why on earth would that make you angry?

He took another sip of lemonade and swallowed the irritation with it.

The ball carried on. Sawamoto steered them through pleasantries with passing acquaintances, always positioning himself between Taiki and any alpha whose gaze lingered a beat too long. He was kind and attentive.

They paused near the terrace doors when Taiki felt the looseness in his left shoe. He glanced down—the lace had come undone. He bent forward.

A hand caught his arm.

"Allow me."

Sawamoto was already lowering himself to one knee before Taiki could protest. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he gathered the lace, fingers working carefully. A few nearby guests noticed. An alpha of Sawamoto's standing, kneeling before an omega in the middle of a ballroom.

He rose and smiled warmly.

"Thank you," Taiki said. His voice came out smaller than he intended.

"Please, think nothing of it. I could hardly stand by and let an omega trouble himself with something so menial." Sawamoto's hand hovered near Taiki's elbow. "You should never have to stoop for such dull little chores. Not while I am here."

Something cracked inside Taiki's chest. A fracture that splitting through the last thread of patience.

Taiki cleared his throat.

"I should find Keito. She wanders when left unsupervised."

"Shall I come with you? The halls can be quite—"

"No. No, thank you, Lord Sawamoto. I will only be a moment. Please, enjoy the music."

He didn't wait for a response. His walked through the crowd, past the footmen, past the open doors.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The garden behind the estate was quite lovely. Taiki walked until the music faded, until the noise inside his chest quieted enough.

He found a bench beneath an old oak. He sat and pressed both palms over his face.

The darkness behind his hands felt safe.

Sawamoto Natsuki was perfect. Kind, gentle and wealthy. He brought camellias every visit. He remembered the names of the household staff. He listened when Taiki spoke, nodded at every word, agreed with every opinion. He was the eldest son of a duke—marriage would elevate the Sato name to heights his father had never dared imagine.

There was nothing wrong with him. Not a single rough surface to fight against.

And that was precisely the problem.

Taiki lowered his hands and tipped his head back. Moonlight illuminated his face, pale and cold.

His fingers drifted to his throat and found the emerald.

Deep down—beneath every rational argument he had constructed and reconstructed over sleepless nights—he knew the reason.

"Mr. Sato?"

The voice drifted across the garden. It was laced with worry.

Taiki's shoulders stiffened. He turned his head just enough to see the silhouette standing a few meters down the gravel path.

Sawamoto's brow was drawn, one hand half-extended as though reaching for him.

Taiki's chest clenched.

He should stand and smooth his expression. Making that usual bright smile and say I only needed air, Lord Sawamoto, shall we return? Like he'd done many times before.

He couldn't do it this time.

The muscles in his face wouldn't cooperate. The strings that held up the marionette had gone slack.

He turned forward again and said nothing.

Sawamoto approached and stopped beside the bench. "What troubles you, Mr. Sato?"

The question hung between them.

"Sit with me."

Sawamoto sat immediately without question. He settled on the bench with polite distance between them.

"We should not remain here long." His voice worried. "If someone were to find us—an unmarried omega and an alpha, alone, without a chaperone—I would not wish your name spoken of unkindly. Your reputation is—"

Taiki's fingers touched the emerald at his throat.

"—and I would never forgive myself if my presence caused you even a moment's distress. An omega of your standing, especially the Diamond, ought to be safeguarded from—these gardens are quite dark, and it is not proper for someone so precious to be out here unaccompanied in the—"

"Lord Sawamoto."

Sawamoto's mouth closed.

Taiki's hands rose to the back of his neck. His fingers found the clasp of the necklace and worked it open. The chain slipped free, and the weight of the emerald pooled into his palm.

He looked down at it. The stone caught a moonlight and burned green against his skin—it was vivid and flawless. A beautiful thing. Chosen with care and affection.

Taiki closed his fingers around the necklace and held it out to Sawamoto.

"I must decline your courtship, Lord Sawamoto. Forgive me."

Sawamoto blinked in confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I cannot accept your courtship. I am returning your gift."

The necklace hung between them in Taiki's outstretched hand.

Sawamoto stared at it. Then at Taiki, then at the necklace again. He took it slowly from Taiki's palm, the emerald swallowed by his fist.

Taiki looked away. He couldn't bear the confusion in those dark eyes.

"May I ask why?"

Taiki pressed his lips together.

"You are too kind to me."

The words sounded absurd even as they left his mouth. He pressed on.

"You have been nothing but generous. Attentive and thoughtful. Everything was flawless. And I believe that is precisely what I cannot accept."

Silence stretched. Sawamoto's grip tightened around the necklace.

"I do not understand. Being too kind?" Sawamoto still sounded confused. "I have only ever treated you as an equal—as someone deserving of respect and—"

Taiki smiled and shook his head.

"You see me as the Diamond of the Season. You look up at me as though I stand on a pedestal you built with your own hands. You agree with every word I speak before I have finished speaking it. You let me lead without once pulling back on the reins."

Sawamoto's jaw worked. "Is that not what you desire? An alpha who respects your voice? Who does not seek to diminish you?"

"I do not want to be diminished." Taiki's hands settled in his lap. "Nor do I want to be elevated. I want to walk beside someone. Someone who will tell me when I am wrong and trust me to do the same."

Silence pooled between them again.

Sawamoto's gaze dropped to the emerald in his fist. His thumb traced the stone as though memorizing its shape before it became a memory.

When he spoke again, his voice seemed restrained.

"This alpha you describe. One who walks beside you rather than behind or ahead. Does such a man exist? Or is he merely a wish—an ideal you carry in your heart but have not yet encountered in the world?"

Taiki's breath caught, his fingers curled against his knees.

He could lie. The word no sat right in his tongue.

"Yes." The word fell from him before the lie could form. "There is someone like that."

Sawamoto's composure cracked. His head turned sharply toward Taiki.

"Who? Do I know him? Is he—" His throat swallowed. "Is he a better man than I am?"

Taiki looked away.

"He is less kind than you, truthfully. He teases me without mercy. He provokes me. He picks apart my arguments until I want to throw something at his head."

A breath of laughter escaped his mouth.

"He is cold. He holds the world at arm's length and dares it to come closer. He does not compliment me—he challenges me."

Then his voice softened.

"But he sees me. He sees the stubbornness, the sharp edges I spend so much effort filing down for polite company—and he does not flinch from any of it."

Sawamoto listened. His face passed through several expressions—each one brief, each one honest—before a knowing expression settled.

He smiled.

"It is Lord Yamamoto, is it not?"

Taiki's head whipped around. His brown eyes went wide, the doe-eyed look he could never control when surprised.

"How did you—"

Sawamoto's smile deepened. A chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"When I introduced you as the one I was courting at the Pleasure Gardens, both of you wore the same expression. As though someone had driven the same nail through two separate boards." He shook his head, amusement and resignation mixed together. "And he greeted your mother. A man does not greet another family's matriarch with such familiarity unless he has already sat at their table."

Taiki's mouth opened in shock.

Sawamoto exhaled slowly.

"Well. If it is Lord Yamamoto, then he is certainly a better man than I in every way that matters." His thumb passed over the emerald one final time. "I wish you every happiness, Mr. Sato."

The words hung between them. Taiki looked at him for a long moment, the ache in his throat building.

"Thank you."

Sawamoto rose from the bench. He tucked the necklace into his breast pocket, then turned and extended his hand.

"At the very least, allow me to walk you somewhere with better light. You should go inside first, of course. If we enter together at this hour from the gardens, there will be talk neither of us wants printed in tomorrow's papers."

Taiki stared at the offered hand. Broad and steady palm, not a tremor in them despite everything that just happened.

He took it and stood in the moonlight with his hand in Sawamoto's.

Sawamoto looked down at their joined hands. His gaze stayed there. The warmth on his face vanished, and beneath it, Taiki saw the wound expression. Sawamoto's lips pressed together, his fingers tightened around Taiki's.

Taiki's eyes burned. Heat gathered along his lashes, blurring his vision. Guilt pressed against his chest.

This man had done nothing wrong. He had given nothing but kindness and devotion, and Taiki was handing it all back.

But a life built on a lie would rot from the inside. He knew that. Sawamoto deserved someone whose smile reached their eyes.

Taiki lifted their joined hands. He bent his head and pressed his lips to the back of Sawamoto's knuckles—a gesture alphas received from omegas only in the deepest moments of regard.

Sawamoto's breath caught.

Taiki raised his head. His eyes were glistening, but the smile on his face was the most genuine thing he had offered Sawamoto since the courtship began.

"Thank you for the most wonderful month, Lord Sawamoto. I wish you well too. Truly."

Sawamoto blinked, something shifted in his eyes. Then his mouth curved with warmth. The same warmth that had greeted Taiki at every visit for a month.

He squeezed Taiki's hand once.

They walked together out of the dark garden, hand in hand, gravel crunching beneath their shoes.

The ballroom swallowed him whole the moment he stepped through the terrace doors. Music, laughter, the clink of glasses—all of it crashed over him. Taiki blinked against the chandelier light and scanned the crowd.

He found them near the far column.

Takahiro stood with her fan clutched shut in one hand. Her gaze swept the room restlessly. Beside her, Keito had abandoned her usual slouch. She stood straight, one hand resting on the pommel of the decorative blade at her hip.

"Mother. Keito."

Both heads snapped toward him.

Takahiro's shoulders dropped immediately. Keito's hand fell from the blade. They crossed the distance before he could take another step, Takahiro reaching him first, her fingers catching his sleeve.

"Where on earth have you been? We looked everywhere—the refreshment hall, the card room, the ladies' parlour—"

"I checked the eastern corridor twice!" Keito cut in. "I was about to search the stables."

"Are you alright? You were gone for nearly—" Takahiro's eyes narrowed, reading his face. "Taiki, my darling. What happened?"

He didn't answer.

"Mother. Can we leave?"

Takahiro's brow creased. "Leave? The night is still—"

Taiki looked down. The floor blurred. He pressed his teeth together until his jaw ached, trying to stop the tears.

Takahiro's hand settled on his arm gently.

"Darling?"

"Please, Mother."

Takahiro and Keito looked at each other before nodded.

They left.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The carriage ride home passed in silence. Taiki sat beside his sister, his gaze fixed on the dark window where his own reflection stared back at him with wet eyes.

The front door of the Sato manor opened and Yusei's familiar figure appeared in the entrance hall. She took one look at them and the polite greeting died on her lips.

"Is everything—did something happen?"

No one answered her.

They walked to the drawing room. Taiki sank onto the settee. Takahiro settled beside him and drew her fingers through his hair. Keito dropped into the chair across from them, elbows on her knees.

Yusei remained near the doorway, concern etched across her features.

Silence filled the room.

"I ended things with Lord Sawamoto."

Takahiro's stroking on Taiki's hair paused. Keito's lips parted. Yusei's clasped hands tightened.

Then the dam broke.

Taiki's face crumpled. The tears he'd held through all evening—they came all at once, spilling down his cheeks in streams. His shoulders shook. A sound tore from his chest, ragged and nothing like the composed Diamond of the Season.

Takahiro pulled him against her. His forehead pressed into her shoulder, and her arms wrapped around him.

"Shhh. I am here. I am right here."

Keito watched in silence, yet her eyes glistened.

"You were right, Keito." Taiki's voice came muffled against his mother's silk. "I was not happy. Go ahead—say it."

Keito exhaled. She stood and sank onto the settee at Taiki's other side. Her arms circled his shoulders, her chin resting against his hair.

"Of course I will not, Brother."

By the doorway, Yusei pressed her knuckle beneath her eye.

Takahiro held him until the sobs faded, then drew back and wiped his cheeks with both thumbs.

"Let Yusei help you change and sleep. Whatever you need to tell me, it will keep until morning."

Taiki nodded. He rose on unsteady legs and crossed the drawing room without looking back.

Yusei fell into step beside him silently, her hand hovering near his elbow without touching—close enough to catch him if he stumbled.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The morning came.

Takahiro sat beside Taiki on the settee, an embroidery hoop balanced in her lap, her needle moving through linen.

She hadn't asked. She'd simply positioned herself there after breakfast, close enough that her shoulder almost brushed Taiki's.

Keito occupied the armchair opposite, legs tucked beneath her, a book open across her knees that she hadn't turned a page of in twenty minutes.

Taiki held a cup of tea that had gone cold.

The front door opened. Voices in the entrance hall—Yusei's greeting tone, then a brighter one cutting through the hall.

Alan burst into the drawing room with his coat half-unbuttoned and a crumpled letter in his fist.

"I came as fast as I could. Hayato handed your letter to me at breakfast, and I nearly choked on my toast—"

"Mr. Alan, or I must say, Lady Komori, welcome." Takahiro smiled without looking up from her embroidery.

"Lady Takahiro. Miss Keito." Alan dropped into the seat beside Taiki. He smoothed the letter flat against his knee and jabbed a finger at a line near the bottom. "You wrote—and I quote—I have ended things with Lord Sawamoto."

He turned to Taiki. His eyes were sharp and searching.

"What happened? Last I heard, the courtship was going splendidly. Did he show his true face? Is he wretched underneath all that polish? Do I need to find him and put my fist through his very handsome nose?"

Taiki smiled tiredly and shook his head.

He inhaled. His eyes were swollen, his lids heavy, but the tears had emptied him out and left something clearer behind.

"Lord Sawamoto is... everything an omega could hope for."

He set the cold tea aside.

"He brought camellias every visit. He remembered Yusei's name after hearing it once. He listened when I spoke about omega property rights and never once rolled his eyes or changed the subject. He asked after Father's business, Mother's health, Keito's training. He knelt—in the middle of a ballroom, in front of half the ton—to tie my shoe."

Alan's hand settled on Taiki's forearm. Keito's book sank lower in her lap.

"He was gentle. When other alphas crowded me at events, he positioned himself between us without making a spectacle of it. He never raised his voice. Never pressed for more than I offered. He was faultless."

Taiki's throat tightened.

"But I felt nothing."

"I spent weeks telling myself the feeling would come. That affection was something you could cultivate, like a garden—plant the seed, water it daily, wait for the bloom. I scolded myself every night. What is wrong with you? He is everything an omega should want. He is rare. He is good. You are wasting him."

His thumbs pressed against each other until the knuckles whitened.

"I tried, truly. I dressed for his visits. I laughed at his jokes. I wore his necklace and told myself the weight of it on my throat was the weight of something growing." He took a breath. "But every morning I woke the same. Empty."

"And the more I examined it, the clearer it became. Lord Sawamoto does not see me as lesser—he would never. But he places omegas on a glass shelf and admires them from below. Every opinion I offered, he accepted without question. He changed his own position mid-sentence once, simply because mine differed."

Taiki's mouth twisted. "He does not want a partner. He wants something precious to protect. Something bright to orbit."

He exhaled.

"So I ended it. Before the guilt grew roots I could not pull."

Alan's thumb stroked a line along Taiki's forearm.

Silence settled in the drawing room.

Taiki's gaze drifted to the window. His thoughts slipped—wandered past the hedgerows and the ballroom and the emerald necklace, past the camellias, and landed somewhere he had forbidden them to go.

Dark hair, cut short and spiky. A jaw sharp enough to cast shadows. That infuriating mouth, always tilted at one corner, always half a breath from saying something designed to make Taiki's blood boil.

His breath hitched.

"Lord Sekai..."

The name escaped before he could catch it. Three heads turned toward him.

Taiki chuckled.

"It is rather funny, is it not? I convinced myself I was drawn to Lord Sekai because he respected omegas. But Lord Sawamoto respected omegas too—arguably more. He was kinder, gentler, more devoted in every measurable way. And still I could not make my heart choose him."

His hands folded in his lap.

"And I cannot go to Lord Sekai either." He said quietly. "He severed what was between us. He made that choice, and I cannot unmake it for him. Unless he opens that door himself, it stays shut. I have no key to it."

He swallowed.

"Besides—when we crossed paths at the Pleasure Gardens, he mentioned leaving for the continent again soon. He may already be gone by now. Sailing toward some distant shore I will never see."

He paused before lifting his chin.

"Well. It hardly matters. I do not care about him."

The red diamond necklace sat in its velvet box in his dresser drawer upstairs. He'd held it last night, turning it between his fingers until the facets pressed lines into his skin. The way Sekai had clasped it around his neck. The warmth of his breath against Taiki's nape. The kiss that tasted like lemon and recklessness.

"I do not care about him at all."

Takahiro set her embroidery aside. She reached for Taiki and drew him against her, her arms circling him.

"There is always next year, darling. You do not have to find your match in your first season. Many do not. Many wonderful encounters still wait for you—ones you cannot imagine yet."

Taiki leaned into her. His eyes burned, but the tears had spent themselves. Only the ache remained.

Alan sat still for a moment. His gaze moved from Taiki to Takahiro to Keito, then to the window, then back to Taiki.

"You know what you need?"

Taiki lifted his head.

"Your family has a summer house in the country, yes? That lovely place near the coast your mother mentioned at my wedding breakfast?"

Takahiro tilted her head. "We do. In Whitstable. We have not visited in two years."

"Pack your trunks, Taiki. Take Keito, take your mother, take Lord Akira if you can pry him from his ledgers. Spend a fortnight away from the season, the suitors, all of it."

Keito perked up in her chair. "The coast?"

"But why?" Taiki frowned. "The season is still—"

"Oh, just for a fresh breath of air." Alan squeezed Taiki's arm and smiled confidently. "Trust me."

It was warm and chatty at White's. Smoke curled from pipes in corners. The clink of glasses and the rumble of male conversation filled the room.

Hayato settled deeper into his usual chair near the fireplace and turned the whiskey glass between his fingers. It had been three weeks since he became a regular here.

It had been three days since Alan had cornered him in their drawing room, and looked up at him with those sharp eyes that meant I need you to do something and you will not ask too many questions.

"There is a man named Lord Yamamoto Sekai. You will find a way to speak with him. And when you do, you will say exactly what I tell you."

Hayato had blinked. "Is this... dangerous?"

"Only emotionally."

"Whose emotions?"

"Everyone's. Now sit down and listen."

So Hayato had listened and memorized. And then spent the following days hunting for an opening.

The opening came through Shunsuke.

Mr. Takeuchi Shunsuke—jeweler, merchant, and the most effortlessly likable man Hayato had ever shared a drink with—had mentioned Lord Yamamoto in passing over billiards two evenings ago. Mentioned, too, that Sekai planned to sail for the continent within the week.

Hayato's stomach had dropped. The mission had a deadline he hadn't known about.

"You must bring him here," Hayato had said rather hastily. "At least once before he departs. I have heard extraordinary things about his swordsmanship—the finest blade in London, they say. I would be honored simply to meet the man."

It was half-true. He'd heard things about Sekai's swordsmanship from Alan, sandwiched between far more interesting details about necklaces, heartbreak and omegas who couldn't sleep.

Shunsuke had studied him and then shrugged. "I'll see what I can do."

Now Hayato sat waiting.

It was Five o'clock. The club filled with crowd alphas unwinding their hard day. Shunsuke stood at the bar laughing at something the bartender said.

Then the front door opened.

Two men walked in. Both tall—185 centimeters each, Hayato guessed, matching his own height. The first had dark brown hair, neatly parted and handsome. The second—

Hayato's eyes paused on him.

Dark short hair, pushed upward in careless spikes. A face that belonged on a Greek coin. Bored eyes that swept the room once and dismissed everything.

So this is THE Yamamoto Sekai.

He could see it now. Everything Alan had described, and everything between the words Alan hadn't said. The quiet aura. The way Sekai stood half a step behind his companion, not out of deference but out of habit.

Shunsuke crossed the room and clasped both men's hands.

"Sekai, Gan—this is Lord Komori Hayato. Moved to London recently. Married, settled, and already a better billiards player than either of you."

"That bar sits remarkably low." Gan extended his hand first, giving an easy smile.

Sekai's handshake lasted a second. His expression polite and nothing behind it.

"Lord Komori."

"Lord Yamamoto. A genuine pleasure." Hayato grinned wide enough for both of them. "Mr. Takeuchi has told me you could cut a candle flame in half without melting the wax. I refuse to believe it, naturally, which is why I had to meet you in person."

The corner of Sekai's mouth twitched. "The candle story is Shunsuke's invention."

"Only the wax part," Shunsuke called from the bar.

They settled into chairs. Hayato kept the conversation moving—asked about Gan's horses, Shunsuke's latest commission, Sekai's travels abroad. When the talk turned to blades and forms, Hayato leaned in with genuine enough curiosity to put up the act. He'd trained in kenjutsu back home, so it wasn't entirely lie.

"Marriage, though," Hayato said, steering the talk smoothly, "marriage has dulled my reflexes something terrible. My wife outmaneuvers me daily and he does not even carry a sword."

Shunsuke barked a laugh. Gan chuckled into his whiskey. And Sekai—Sekai's shoulders dropped a fraction and smiled.

Good.

Two rounds of cards and another whiskey later, jackets hung over chair backs and Gan was recounting a disastrous fox hunt. Hayato laughed along, waited for the story to wind down.

Then he leaned back into the sofa cushions and turned his glass slowly.

"Speaking of disastrous, my wife has recently taken to rearranging our entire library by color. By color." Hayato said frustratingly.

Shunsuke set his glass down. "By color."

"The man insists our shelves looked, and I am quoting directly, 'emotionally disorganized.' So now Plato sits between a book of French pastry recipes and a naval almanac because they all happen to be blue."

Gan pressed his knuckles to his mouth. Even Sekai's expression softened.

"And the worst part—" Hayato pointed a finger at nothing in particular. "It looks magnificent and I cannot even argue. He always wins. I married someone who wins arguments I did not realize I was having."

They all laughed.

Hayato let it sit. He let the warmth build, before he changed the tone into sadness.

"Though lately..." He turned the glass. "Lately the house has been rather difficult."

Gan tilted his head. "Difficult how?"

"Alan has been weeping. He sits at the window and says nothing for an hour and then cries into the curtains when he thinks I have left the room." Hayato rubbed the back of his neck. "I am not... I confess I do not know what to do. I have tried everything. Flowers, sweets, new books—organized by color, of course."

Shunsuke leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What happened?"

"His dearest friend. The one he grew up with, practically brothers from what I understand." Hayato squinted at the ceiling as he tried to remember. "I'm still learning the families here—I am terrible with London names, forgive me. Mr. Sato, I believe? Yes, that sounds right. Mr. Sato Taiki."

The room changed atmosphere. Hayato felt it physically.

Shunsuke's glass stopped moving. Gan's easy posture stiffened. And Sekai—

Sekai's face cracked open from his composure. His eyes widened and lips parted.

"Alan says he is leaving London. No—leaving England entirely. Apparently he is to marry some duke and plans to stay abroad, and the whole thing has been arranged rather quickly. Alan is devastated. He says his friend will be gone and he does not know when—"

"When?"

The word came out of Sekai hastily. Gan and Shunsuke both turned to him.

"When is the wedding?" Sekai's voice cracked. "Do you know where they are going? Which duke—has Alan mentioned a name, a country, anything—how long has this been arranged—"

"Sekai." Gan's hand found Sekai's shoulder.

"—does he know if they have already signed the agreement or is it still—"

"Sekai."

Sekai stopped and realized he had been rambling. He looked at his own hands as if they belonged to a stranger.

"I... forgive me." He swallowed. "That was—I apologize. I do not know what came over me."

"No need for apologies," Hayato said gently. He hummed, tapping a finger against his glass. "I wish I knew more. Alan tells me things in such a rush I only catch every third detail. But—ah, yes. He did mention he's heading to the Sato family's summer house tomorrow. For a farewell visit of some kind, I believe. Before Mr. Sato departs."

Hayato then looked between the three of them, eyes round and guileless.

"Is something the matter? Are you acquainted with Mr. Sato?"

Shunsuke cleared his throat. "Well—yes. He is known to us. To Sekai, rather. An acquaintance of—"

Gan's hand tightened on Sekai's shoulder and gave it a rough shake. "Sekai. Sekai."

Sekai sat very still. His gaze had gone somewhere far from this room.

"Lord Komori. The Sato summer house—might I ask for the address?"

"Certainly. I asked Alan for it just yesterday, since he will be traveling there himself." Hayato set his glass on the side table. "Wisteria Cottage, on the Canterbury Road past Whitstable. It was coastal town. About three hours by carriage, perhaps a touch more if the roads are muddy."

"Thank you."

The tension among the three men was palpable. Hayato could almost hear it vibrating.

Sekai stood abruptly. "I have just remembered—I have an appointment this evening. With my—" He faltered. "My tailor."

"His tailor," Shunsuke echoed, nodding vigorously. "Yes, I believe I recommended the man, actually. Very sought after. Only takes appointments at odd hours. Works exclusively by candlelight—"

"Shunsuke." Gan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop talking."

Sekai pulled his jacket from the chair back and shrugged into it quickly. He turned to Hayato and extended his hand.

"Lord Komori. I owe you a demonstration of swordsmanship someday. You have my word."

Hayato clasped his hand and smiled.

"I will hold you to that, Lord Yamamoto."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Sekai descended the club steps two at a time and crossed to the carriage waiting at the curb. Leiya straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wheel.

"Already, Master Sekai? I thought you'd be in there until supper at least."

Sekai didn't slow. "Open the door."

Leiya scrambled to pull the latch. "Of course, of course—"

"Take me to the stables. I need Meguro saddled and ready. I'm riding out alone tonight."

He climbed into the carriage before Leiya could form whatever question. Muffled words exchanged with the coachman and the carriage lurched forward.

Sekai pressed his knuckles against his mouth and stared at nothing.

Leaving England. Arranged marriage with some duke. Living abroad.

His pulse hammered.

The carriage rolled through London's streets in what felt like hours. When it stopped at the stables, Sekai was out before the wheels fully settled. He strode past the stable hand with three words—"Meguro. Saddle. Now."—and stood with arms crossed while the horse was brought out.

Meguro tossed her head and stamped, sensing something in the air.

Leiya hovered near the stable entrance. As he watched Sekai check the girth strap, he stepped directly into his path.

"Master Sekai, forgive me for overstepping, but—where exactly are you riding to? Another voyage? Because you look—" He stopped himself and swallowed. "You don't look well. You don't look like yourself."

Sekai stared at him. Stripped from his usual cheerfulness, Leiya looked worried, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

Sekai exhaled. The tension in his shoulders dropped a little, and a tired smile surfaced.

"Leiya. I appreciate your concern. Truly." He rested one hand on Meguro's neck. "I'm not leaving the country. Not yet. I'm riding to the Sato family's summer house—Wisteria Cottage, on the Canterbury Road past Whitstable."

Leiya's eyes went wide. Sato.

"At this hour?! That's three hours by carriage—on horseback in the dark it could be—Master Sekai, what do you intend to do there? Let me come with you. I'll drive the carriage, we can—"

Sekai shook his head. "I need to do this alone." His grip tightened on the reins. "I just need to finish what I started. Before he's gone for good."

Leiya held his gaze and searched something on Sekai's face. Whatever he found there made his chin dip in a knowing nod. He stepped aside and turned his body, clearing the way to Meguro's left flank.

Sekai swung into the saddle. The leather creaked beneath his weight. Meguro shifted, ready.

"God speed you safely there and back, Master Sekai."

"Thank you, Leiya."

He pressed his heels into Meguro's sides and the horse surged forward.

London blurred. Cobblestones became packed dirt, buildings became hedgerows, and the city's smoke changed into an open sky. The evening got darker and darker.

Sekai leaned low over Meguro's neck. The horse's hooves struck the road in a relentless run. Wind roared past his ears and pulled tears from the corners of his eyes, whipped his cravat loose. The Canterbury Road was still long far ahead.

An hour in, the sky betrayed him.

The rain came—immediately heavy at once. A curtain of water crashing down so thick he could barely see Meguro's ears. The road turned to mud. The wind drove the rain sideways, needling his skin through soaked linen.

Meguro faltered, hooves sliding.

"Go," Sekai commanded. "Go."

The horse kept running.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

After hours, Meguro's hooves clattered against the gravel drive, and the house finally emerged in sight. Pale stone walls with climbing wisteria on it, dark windows save for two on the ground floor that glowed through the downpour.

Three hours. Perhaps less, Sekai couldn't be certain. Time had blurred somewhere between London and the Kent coastline, swallowed by rain and the maddening thought that had driven him forward without rest.

He guided Meguro toward the stable yard flanking the house. The stable doors were bolted shut, but the front overhang jutted far enough to shelter from the rain. Sekai swung down from the saddle and his boots hit the ground. His legs nearly buckled, but he caught himself on the stirrup leather, chest heaving hard.

Meguro stamped and shook her mane, spraying water in a wide arc. Her flanks trembled beneath their slick coat, but she tossed her head and snorted. Her eyes were bright. She was not angry in the slightest. She bumped her nose against his shoulder to push him a step forward.

Sekai pressed his forehead to her neck. The heat of her body seeped through his soaked shirt.

"Forgive me for putting you through this, Meguro."

She let out a low neigh and bumped him again. Go.

He left her beneath the overhang and walked toward the front door. Rain hammered all over his body. His breath still came in shallow pulls, ribs aching from three hours bent low over the saddle.

He knocked.

Then he heard footsteps and the door swung open. A young housemaid in a white cap stood in front of him, her eyes traveled from his face to his boots and back again. Her mouth fell open.

"I—Lord—"

"I need to see Mr. Sato Taiki." His voice came out rougher than he intended. "Please."

The maid nodded so fast her cap slipped sideways. She turned on her heel and disappeared down the corridor.

He heard footsteps again. Two sets now, half-running.

Taiki rounded the corner and stopped dead.

Taiki.

Brown hair slightly mussed. A cream-colored house coat buttoned to his collarbone. Those luminous brown eyes were blown wide with disbelief.

Sekai pulled his spine straight. He squared his shoulders against the shivers racking his frame.

Taiki seized Sekai's wrist and hauled him bodily across the threshold, the polished floorboards darkening with water. His palm immediately found Sekai's cheek. Ice-cold skin against warm fingers.

"Have you lost your mind completely? How did you—did you ride here? In this? Where is Meguro, is she—"

Sekai stared down into those wide doe eyes, and something in his chest cracked loose.

God, he'd missed it. He missed him.

"I rode Meguro, yes. She's under the front overhang by your stables."

Taiki whipped toward the housemaid. "Get the stable hand—have the horse brought inside and dried down immediately. Give her blankets, oats and water. Now."

The maid curtsied and fled.

Taiki turned back to him, mouth already opening for the next scolding, and Sekai cut through it.

"I need to speak with you." His breath still hadn't steadied. "Will you hear me?"

Taiki's lips pressed together. His eyes searched Sekai's face. Something wavered there.

Then Taiki patted his cheek twice. "Only if you've dried yourself. Now get in."

He turned before Sekai could argue and called the maids. One maid dispatched for guest linens, another beckoned forward with instructions to show Lord Yamamoto to the east guest room.

Taiki glanced back over his shoulder.

"I will be in the drawing room."

He walked away. The cream house coat disappeared around the corner.

The maid beside him bobbed a curtsy. "This way, Lord Yamamoto."

Sekai followed her up a narrow staircase and into a modest bedroom where a fire already crackled in the grate. There were towel and a basin of warm water. A plain white shirt, a pair of black trousers laid on the small bed.

He stripped the soaked layers from his body with stiff fingers, then toweled his hair and body dry. The white shirt hung loose so he rolled the sleeves to his forearms and left the collar open. The trousers fit well enough.

He caught his reflection in the small mirror above the washstand. Pale skin, hollowed eyes.

He turned from the mirror and walked out the door.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Sekai found the drawing room at the end of the hall. The door stood ajar.

He pushed it open.

Taiki sat on the sofa nearest the fireplace with a teacup in hands. His posture was immaculate but his knuckles had gone white around the porcelain.

Brown eyes flicked to the doorway.

"Lord Sekai." Taiki lowered the cup to its saucer. "Please, do come in and sit."

Sekai crossed the room and lowered himself onto the sofa opposite. The fire popped between them.

"Father and Mother are attending a dinner at the Arthur estate this evening. They won't return until quite late. Keito retired an hour ago."

Sekai nodded. "I see."

Silence settled. Taiki turned his gaze toward the rain-streaked window. He looked as though he'd drawn a line around himself.

Of course.

Sekai had cut the thread between them with his own hands. Kissed him and then left him weeping with a necklace still warm on his skin. And now he'd appeared on the doorstep like some half-drowned ghost without warning.

He cleared his throat. The sound was loud in the quiet room.

"Taiki, I—" The words caught. He pressed his palms flat against his thighs. He started again. "I was told you are... that there is a marriage. And that you are leaving England to live abroad."

Taiki's gaze cut back to him. Sekai pushed forward before it could stop him.

"I could not—" His head shook. "You should not leave without knowing the truth. What happened between us—if you go, you should go knowing that none of it—none of what I did—it was never you. It was never about you. It has always been me."

The words fell out of him gracelessly.

"I owe you an apology for running. For every hour I spent at your side knowing I had no right to be there." His voice trembled. "I never intended to court you. But I did, and I am sorry, because you deserved better than—" He stopped. "Than a monster who cannot trust himself near the people he—"

He severed the sentence before finishing it.

"I am not safe for you, Taiki. I have never been safe for anyone. And I would sooner lose you to another alpha than lay harm on you with my own hands."

Taiki's eyes never left Sekai's face through all of it.

"I don't know who fed you that information." Taiki's voice cut through the silence. "But I am not getting married, Lord Sekai. I am not leaving England. Whoever told you that was lying."

The room tilted.

"And I ended the courtship with Lord Sawamoto over a week ago."

Sekai stared in shock.

Apparently his chest cracked open and his guts spread across the drawing room floor, all for a fiction.

Three hours on horseback with two hours through a storm in it.

Sekai exhaled long and slow, and let his back fall against the sofa cushions.

"I am going to kill that new gentleman."

Taiki rose from his seat and sat down close beside Sekai. The warmth of him pressed against Sekai's arm.

His jaw was set, brown eyes burning with weeks of sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

"You cut me off." Each word landed like a blade. "You did not give me a choice. You decided for me—just like every other alpha who believes they know what is best for an omega. So now you are going to sit here, and you are going to tell me everything about this Monster thing."

The rain filled the long silence that followed.

Sekai looked at the omega beside him and felt the last wall inside him fall apart.

Sekai leaned forward, eyes on the floor between his feet.

"I was twenty-one when I engaged to Lady Harwell's daughter, Charlotte. You wouldn't know her, she left London after..." He paused. "After my doing."

The fire crackled in the fireplace.

"My rut came three days early. We were alone in the east parlor of her family's home. I felt it hit and I knew I should leave. So I stood up, but I only made it two steps toward the door."

His hands hung between his knees.

"I grabbed both of her wrists. I don't remember crossing the room back to her. But I remember the sound of her bones made when I squeezed. Like cracking a walnut." His throat moved. "The bruises lasted three weeks. It was dark purple. Her mother showed them to mine."

Beside him, Taiki's breath hitched. Sekai didn't look up.

"She told me to stop. She called my name and said please. And my hands—" He opened and closed his fingers. "My hands went around her throat. I don't remember choosing that either. One moment I was holding her wrists and the next my palm was pressed against her windpipe, and I could feel her pulse under my thumb. She screamed."

"I heard her. Somewhere far away I heard her. But my body did not care. Whatever I was in that moment—it heard nothing. It just—" His jaw clenched. "Took."

Taiki's hand curled into a fist against the sofa cushion. A tremor ran through his shoulders.

"Her brother broke down the door. Two footmen dragged me off her. It took three alphas to stop me. In the end, she couldn't speak for two days. The bruising on her throat took longer to fade than the ones on her wrists."

He breathed slowly.

"After the scandal I left England, masking it as traveling. When the ruts came I went to... establishments where experienced professional women worked. They handled difficult alphas regularly. They knew the work." A chuckle. "And I still broke them."

"One woman—she specialized in servicing alphas in rut. Fifteen years of experience. I left bruises on her ribs, arms and hips. She couldn't work for a month. The madam sent me a bill for the lost wages and a letter requesting I never return." He almost laughed. "I paid the bill. I found another establishment. The same thing happened. And again, at the next."

Taiki flinched. The honey sharpened, mixing with bitterness.

Fear.

Sekai smelled the change. But he still did not look up.

"During rut I am not myself. I am something else. Something that does not hear the word stop. Something that takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left to take and then reaches for more."

He lifted his head.

"That is what I am, Taiki. That is what I would do to you." His voice broke. "And I would rather never see you again than leave those marks on your skin."

Silence stretched in the drawing room.

Taiki sat rigid beside him. His chest rose and fell in shallow, every nerve of him screamed run.

His eyes were wet with fury.

Taiki's fist unclenched. His fingers spread flat against the cushion. The tremor in his shoulders eventually stilled, and his chin rose.

"So you decided I couldn't handle it."

The words came out low.

"You decided for me without asking." His voice didn't waver. "You looked at me and saw—what? A fragile little omega who would break at the first rough touch?"

Sekai's head turned.

"You don't understand—"

"No." Taiki cut across him. "You don't understand. I am not your ex-fiancée. I am not a stranger in a brothel. And I am not a porcelain doll you get to put on a shelf because you're too afraid to hold it."

Taiki shifted closer on the sofa. His knee pressed against Sekai's thigh, and Sekai moved backward until he hit the arm of the sofa.

For the first time in this room, the alpha was the one cornered.

Taiki's eyes burned.

"You should have told me from the beginning. Before the horse rides and the sword lessons and the necklace and the—" His voice cracked. "You should have told me and let me decide if I could handle it. That is what I am angry about, Lord Sekai. Not your rut or your past. It's the fact that you took my choice away."

The accusation hung between them. Sekai's throat worked. His hands gripped his own knees.

He shook his head.

"I came to say sorry, Taiki. That's all. I didn't come to—"

"To what? To let me love you?" Taiki whispered. "How generous of you, Lord Sekai."

Sekai flinched. Taiki didn't relent.

"I don't know what your rut is like. You're right. I have never experienced it. I have never felt your hands lose themselves, never heard what your voice sounds like when you're not in control." He leaned forward. "But you don't get to tell me I can't handle something I haven't even faced yet."

Sekai's breath came ragged. His composure had completely dissolved when he heard the word love. His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed.

"And if I hurt you?" Sekai whispered. "If I leave marks on you like I left on them?"

"Then we figure it out together. Like partners are supposed to." Taiki answered steadily. "But you have to let me try, Sekai."

No Lord. Just Sekai.

Sekai's eyes widened. His breath shuddered.

His eyes burned wet. His hands trembled against his knees, fingers curling and uncurling as though grasping for something.

Then his shoulders dropped. A long, slow exhale. Four years of held breath leaving his body in one moment of surrender.

Sekai let his head fall back against the sofa, his eyes found the ceiling.

"You want to... figure things out. Discuss with me." His voice came out hoarse, almost wondering. "Omegas don't do that. Omegas want comfort and ease, and a home that runs itself. They don't sit down across from the problem and take it apart with their hands."

Taiki scoffed.

"Do you want this or not?"

Sekai's lips pressed together. His chin crumpled. A single tear broke free and fell.

Another followed. And another.

He sobbed, ragged and ugly. His face contorted. He pressed his palms over his eyes and his shoulders shook as the tears came, streaking his jaw and throat.

Taiki sat frozen.

He had never seen an alpha cry except his father. Any of the suitors had various expressions, but they never cried. Of all alphas, the composed Yamamoto Sekai cried ugly in front of him.

The sight split Taiki's heart and it ached.

Sekai's voice wavered through his hands.

"I don't deserve you."

Taiki's throat tightened. His fingers found Sekai's wrists and pulled them down. Sekai's face lay exposed—red eyes and tears streaming down. Taiki's thumbs swept across both cheekbones and brushed the tears away.

"I want you anyway."

Taiki kissed him.

Taiki pressed his mouth to Sekai's as he thought of every moment he'd spent staring at the red diamond necklace and hating himself for missing the man who gave it. His fingers slid from Sekai's cheeks into his damp hair, pulling him closer.

Sekai kissed back without hesitation. His hands found Taiki's waist and he pulled until there was no space left between them.

The kiss deepened and turned desperate. Taiki's back arched as Sekai's mouth moved against his, tasting of salt and rain.

Taiki's fingers found the edge of the cream-colored patch behind Sekai's right ear. He curled his nails beneath the adhesive and ripped.

Lemon immediately flooded the room. It hit Taiki's senses, and he buried his nose against Sekai's bare gland and breathed.

The scent poured through him dizzying. His eyes fluttered shut. His lips parted against the warm skin of Sekai's neck.

Sekai growled low. The vibration rolled through his chest and into Taiki's palms where they pressed against him.

Sekai's nose found the curve of Taiki's throat. No patch. Just bare skin and the honey scent warm from the gland beneath his ear. Sekai inhaled deep, and deeper still, pressing his face into the hollow where Taiki's jaw met his neck.

Taiki gasped. A whimper caught in his throat. His fingers curled into Sekai's shirt as his whole body trembled.

They stayed like that, breathing each other in. Lemon and honey tangling in the warm air between their bodies until neither scent existed separately.

Taiki pulled back first. Just far enough to see Sekai's face again, and kissed him softly this time.

Sekai's hand rose to cradle the back of Taiki's head, and he kissed him back as though learning how.

A knock shattered the silence.

Taiki jerked back so fast his teeth clicked. Sekai's hands dropped from his hair as though burned, and both of them scrambled to opposite ends of the sofa. Taiki smoothing his house coat, Sekai dragging the back of his hand across his mouth and put the scent patch back.

Yusei stood in the open doorway with her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"Forgive me, Master Taiki." Her voice calm. "Lord and Lady Sato's carriage has just pulled into the drive. I thought you might appreciate... a moment's warning."

Taiki's face blushed hard. He shot to his feet, fingers fixing his crumpled appearance.

Beside him, Sekai rose with more composure but no less urgency. He ran both hands through his damp hair and tugged the borrowed shirt straight. His eyes were still red-rimmed. Nothing to be done about that.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

They reached the entrance hall side by side just as the front door swung open.

Akira stepped through first, shaking rain from the shoulders of his dark overcoat. Takahiro followed, blonde strands clinging to her temples. Both were happy and contented after a dinner—until their eyes found the second figure standing beside their son.

"Mother, Father—welcome home." Taiki's voice pitched half a register too high. He pressed his palms together. "Lord Sekai has... come to visit."

The silence that followed could have crushed diamonds.

Akira stepped forward, and the warmth bled from his face.

"What business do you have here, Lord Yamamoto?" The words came clipped. "Have you come to make my son weep again?"

"Akira—" Takahiro's hand found his arm.

"I rode from London." Sekai bowed deep. "I came to beg Mr. Taiki's forgiveness. And there is something I must say to you both."

Akira's eyes narrowed. His gaze cut to Taiki, then back to Sekai, then swept the entrance hall.

"You spoke with my son alone?"

"I chaperoned the meeting, my Lord." Yusei appeared at the edge of the corridor. "I was present the entire time."

The drawing room door had been open. Yusei had, in truth, stood just outside it. The distinction between present and in the room lived in a gray space she did not elaborate.

The tension held. Akira's dark eyes bore into Sekai.

"Why don't we continue this conversation tomorrow?"

Takahiro's soft voice broke the atmosphere. She stepped beside her husband, fingers still resting on his arm.

"We are all tired. And you—" Her gaze traveled over Sekai's borrowed clothes, his hollow eyes and cheeks. "You look rather pale, Lord Sekai. And if I'm not mistaken, quite unwell."

"He rode here on horseback, through the storm for at least two hours," Taiki's voice cut in.

Both parents turned to him. Akira's brow climbed. Takahiro's lips parted.

Akira studied Sekai for a long moment. The anger didn't leave his face, but reluctant acceptance. At least he could acknowledge that a man who rode two hours through a storm was not a man who had come to cause harm.

He exhaled through his nose.

"Whatever it is you wish to say, say it in the morning. You are welcome to stay the night."

Sekai bowed again. "Thank you, Lord Sato."

Akira offered no more words. He placed his hand at the small of Takahiro's back and guided her toward the staircase.

Taiki let out a slow breath and turned to Sekai.

"Get some rest. You look terrible."

Sekai's mouth twitched. "You as well."

His hand rose and brushed Taiki's cheek. His dark eyes softened.

Then his hand fell away. He inclined his head and walked down the corridor toward the guest room.

Taiki stood in the entrance hall until the silence stretched.

Then he turned and walked toward his own room. Yusei fell into step beside him, face perfectly neutral.

Yusei's eye slid sideways and the corner of her mouth curled.

She winked.

"Your secret is perfectly safe with me, Master Taiki."

The crimson flooded back on Taiki's face. His fingers found Yusei's arm. He pulled her close and buried his face against her shoulder with a muffled sound.

Yusei giggled. Her hand came up to pat his hair.

Taiki nuzzled deeper into her shoulder, unable to stop the helpless smile spreading across his face. The faint lemon clung to his skin. His lips still tingled from the kiss.

"Thank you, Yusei," he whispered.

She patted his hair again and smiled.

The guest bed had been comfortable enough, but Sekai still hadn't slept.

He'd lais awake for hours. His mind wouldn't quiet, but at least the chaos of yesterday was ended.

Taiki wasn't leaving. Taiki wasn't marrying some duke and live in a foreign country. Taiki had told Sekai, with that stubborn face, that he intended to face whatever came together.

The relief of it lived in Sekai's bones.

He dressed in the borrowed clothes again—a plain linen shirt and loose trousers. He splashed water on his face, raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was presentable, and studied himself in the small mirror above the washstand. The hollows under his eyes had softened and color had returned to his skin.

Taiki's family was another matter entirely.

Sekai rolled his shoulders. Pressed his palms flat against the washstand and braced himself.

A maid led him to the breakfast room, where the Sato family was already seated.

Akira occupied the head of the table with Takahiro to his left. Keito sat beside her mother, her eyes tracking Sekai's entrance without the usual spark of delight.

Taiki sat opposite Keito. He wore a soft blue waistcoat over white, the layered bustle at his back pressed neatly against the chair.

Sekai bowed. "Good morning."

Akira inclined his head and nothing more.

They ate in silence. Tea was poured and sipped. Keito buttered her toast silently. Takahiro's expression remained serene and unreadable.

Taiki's gaze found Sekai once briefly. His brown eyes held steady as if saying I am here before he returned to his plate.

After the meal, they moved to the drawing room. Takahiro settled on the settee beside Taiki, her hand folding over his. Keito perched on the armchair to their left. Akira stood by the mantelpiece, arms crossed.

Sekai positioned himself in the center of the room.

He bowed very low.

"Lord Sato. Lady Sato. Miss Sato. I caused your family great pain. I was careless with your son's heart, and I am deeply sorry for it. Last night, I begged Taiki's forgiveness, and he was generous enough to grant it—more generous than I deserved. But his forgiveness alone does not mend what I broke in this house."

Silence pressed against the walls.

Akira's jaw worked. His dark eyes bore into Sekai without blinking.

"Apologies are words, Lord Yamamoto. Words are wind." He uncrossed his arms. "What do you intend to do?"

Sekai drew a breath and lifted himself up.

"I know this will sound presumptuous, given what I've done. But, I am asking your permission—yours and Lady Sato's—to court your son again. Properly, this time. With your blessing and under your scrutiny, for as long as it takes." His gaze didn't waver. "I will not run anymore."

Keito's lips parted. Takahiro's fingers tightened around Taiki's hand. Taiki's brown eyes went wide, and color flooded up his neck.

Sekai kept his focus on Akira.

"I am aware of every fault I carry. I know the weight of what I did. But your son—" His voice roughened. "Your son is the most stubborn, brilliant, impossibly brave person I have ever known. He argued with me when no omega dared. He laughed at me when I deserved it. He looked at every ruined piece of me and refused to flinch."

Sekai's throat moved.

"I want to spend the rest of my life earning the right to stand beside him. I am prepared to court him as he deserves, and to cherish him for as long as I draw breath."

Akira regarded Sekai for a long moment.

"We are well acquainted with your history, Lord Yamamoto. Your father came to us himself. Kenchi bowed his head and apologized for the grief his son brought upon mine."

The words jabbed Sekai's ribs. He said nothing.

Akira stared. The silence stretched thin. Then he let out a long exhale, and his shoulders dropped a fraction.

"I will grant your request, after you face me in the yard with real swords," Akira said, his voice resolute.

The blood drained from Taiki's face. He lurched forward on the settee, but Takahiro's hand held him.

"Not to the death," Akira continued. He stepped away from the mantelpiece, rolling one shoulder. "The match ends when steel meets throat. Show me the will you claim to possess, Lord Yamamoto. Show me you have the resolve to protect my son—not just with pretty speeches, but with your body and your blade."

Sekai straightened. His nervousness steeled and became a determination.

He met Akira's gaze and nodded once.

"I accept."

Akira turned without another word and walked toward the garden. Sekai followed.

Behind him, fabric rustled, the quick footsteps told him the others were close at his back.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The yard behind Wisteria Cottage was wide, bordered by low stone walls and wild hedgerow. A groundskeeper had mowed the grass that morning.

Akira shed his coat and waistcoat, folding them over the stone wall. He rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbow, revealing forearms filled with muscle. A housemaid brought two swords from the cottage's modest armory—cavalry sabres. Akira tested the weight of his, turning it a few times.

Sekai accepted the second sabre. He drew his thumb along the flat of the blade.

They faced each other across ten paces of grass.

Akira struck first.

The blade came fast—faster than Sekai had anticipated from a man who spent his days negotiating trade contracts and reviewing accounts. Steel rang against steel, the impact shuddering up Sekai's wrist and into his shoulder. He pivoted and countered with a cut toward Akira's ribs. Akira parried and advanced with remarkable footwork.

Sekai understood then. Years of sparring with Kenchi had carved something permanent into Akira's bones. This was not a businessman holding a sword. This was a man who had trained opposite one of the finest military minds in the country and absorbed every lesson.

The first cut opened a line across Sekai's forearm. A stinging red thread blooming through his shirt. Sekai answered with a slash that caught Akira's shoulder, slicing fabric and grazing skin beneath.

Back and forth they moved across the yard—lunging and retreating. The sabres sang. Blood and sweat darkened their shirts.

Taiki stood at the edge of the yard, his hands pressed against his mouth. His eyes burned. Every clash of metal sent a tremor through his body, and when Akira's blade nicked Sekai's cheek, a gasp escaped him.

Takahiro's arm circled around his shoulders, drawing him close.

"Come rest inside, darling. They will finish."

Taiki shook his head. His vision swam, but he blinked the tears back and kept watching. He would not look away. Not from this.

Keito stood apart from them both, arms crossed, her dark eyes tracking every exchange. She watched the spar like a student of the blade watches.

Thirty minutes became an hour. An hour stretched past ninety minutes. Both men bled from a dozen small wounds. Akira's left arm hung slightly lower than his right—a bruise forming beneath torn linen. Sekai's breathing had roughened.

Still they fought.

At two hours, Sekai feinted low. Akira committed to the parry. Sekai redirected and drove forward with his full weight.

Akira stumbled. His heel caught the uneven ground. He went down hard onto his back, the impact driving the air out from his lungs. Before he could raise his sabre, a cold steel pressed flat against the side of his throat.

Sekai stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his cheek onto Akira's shirt.

"I win."

The words left him in a ragged whisper. Then his knees buckled. He collapsed sideways onto the grass, the sabre slipping from fingers that could no longer grip.

Akira stared at the sky. A breathless laugh shook his chest.

"Military blood. I should have expected nothing less from the Yamamoto line."

Sekai lay on his side, gulping air. He managed a broken half-smile. "If you were ten years younger and trained every day... I would be the one on my back, Lord Sato."

Akira laughed again. He rolled onto his side, winced, and pushed himself upright slowly. He gained his feet, then stood over Sekai and extended his hand.

"Get up, son. Sekai."

Sekai stared at the offered palm. He clasped it, and Akira hauled him to his feet and pulled him straight into an embrace—arms locked around Sekai's shoulders, grip fierce despite the wounds.

Sekai stiffened. Then his arms came up and he held on just as hard.

They both hissed through their teeth, but neither let go.

When they finally separated, Akira's hands remained on Sekai's shoulders. His dark eyes glistened.

"I am glad you chose to stop running. That you trusted my son enough to let him see you." His grip tightened. "Look after my boy, Sekai. He is the dearest thing I have."

Sekai's nodded. "I will."

Taiki broke free of Takahiro's arm and ran. His bustle skirt flared behind him as he crossed the yard in quick steps. Takahiro followed close behind, her blonde hair loosening from its pins.

"Father! Lord Sekai!"

Taiki reached them first, his hands fluttering between the two men, unsure who to touch, where to press. Blood and sweat overwhelmed him. His fingers found Akira's torn sleeve, then darted to the cut on Sekai's cheek, then back to Akira's bruised arm.

"Are you both mad? Look at you—you're bleeding everywhere—"

Akira swayed on his feet. His hand found Takahiro's shoulder the instant she arrived, and he leaned into her dramatically.

"My love." He said theatrically. "I am gravely injured. I may not survive the afternoon without the tender ministrations of my beautiful omega."

Takahiro's eyebrow arched. "You are standing and talking. I suspect you will live."

"A kiss." Akira pressed his forehead to her temple, smearing a streak of dirt across her cheek. "Just one. Perhaps two. The pain is extraordinary, darling, I need—"

Takahiro slapped his shoulder. Akira yelped in exaggerated groan, and she laughed despite herself.

"You ridiculous man. Come inside before you bleed on my dress."

Akira wrapped his arm around her waist, leaning into her with shameless contentment. Takahiro glanced back at Taiki, her eyes warm and knowing.

"I will tend to your father. You may tend to yours."

The weight of that word—yours—settled over Taiki's heart.

They walked toward the cottage, Akira's head dropping to Takahiro's shoulder, murmuring something that made her swat him again. Their laughter faded through the garden door.

Taiki turned back to Sekai. "Let me see your—"

Sekai tipped forward.

His full weight landed against Taiki's chest—one bruised, bleeding big alpha collapsing onto an omega half his size. Taiki's knees folded instantly. They went down together, sinking onto the grass, Sekai's head dropping heavily onto Taiki's shoulder.

"Oof—!" Taiki was surprised. "You—get off, you weigh as much as Meguro—"

"Cannot move." Sekai's voice was muffled against the lace of Taiki's collar. "Everything hurts. I need comfort. Perhaps a gentle touch upon my brow—"

Taiki's lips twitched. "Do not."

"I fought a terrifying man for your hand. I bled profusely. I may require—"

"You are a thousand years too early to imitate my father, Lord Sekai."

Sekai pulled back just enough to stared at Taiki. "I risked my life for you. Two hours in the dirt. Against a man built like a warship." He gestured at the cuts on his arms. "This is a battlefield, and I am your champion, and I demand a reward."

"A reward." Taiki's brows climbed. "For rolling around in the grass and bleeding on my mother's lawn?"

"For winning."

Another giggle escaped him.

This.

This was what he had missed. The sharpness between them, the way words became a game they both wanted to win. The way Sekai's eyes crinkled at the corners when he was trying not to smile.

Taiki glanced over his shoulder. The yard stretched empty behind them. The garden door was shut. Keito had vanished—probably to inspect the sabres. No servants. Just the hedgerow and the wind.

He turned back, cupped Sekai's jaw with both hands and kissed him.

Sekai went still beneath his palms. The kiss was brief, and when Taiki drew back, his thumb traced the uncut side of Sekai's face.

"You were so good for me, my alpha."

The sound that left Sekai's throat was not quite human. A low growl that vibrated through his chest and into Taiki's fingers. Sekai buried his face against Taiki's neck, his nose pressing just below the scent patch, and breathed him in.

"My omega." The whisper ghosted across Taiki's skin.

Taiki shuddered. His fingers curled into Sekai's hair.

Sekai lifted his head and he kissed Taiki again. His hand slid to the back of Taiki's neck, fingers threading through brown curls, tilting Taiki's head to deepen the angle. Taiki's lips parted and Sekai tasted him, his tongue tracing Taiki's lower lip before slipping inside. Taiki whimpered against his mouth, and gripped Sekai's shirt to pull him closer.

Then Taiki's hand slid down Sekai's chest and pressed against the gash beneath his ribs.

Sekai broke the kiss with a sharp hiss, his whole body flinching.

"Sorry! I'm sorry—" Taiki yanked his hand back, eyes wide with alarm.

Sekai dropped his forehead to Taiki's shoulder and exhaled through his teeth. "Every single time. We cannot have a single uninterrupted kiss. The universe conspires against us."

Taiki bit his lip. "Perhaps that is because we keep kissing before you have courted me properly. The gods are punishing your impatience."

Sekai lifted his head, a smirk on his face. "As I recall, you have initiated nearly every kiss between us. If the gods are punishing anyone, it is you."

Heat flooded Taiki's cheeks.

"Fine." He lifted his chin. "Then I will never initiate again. If you find it so objectionable."

"I never said I found it objectionable—"

Taiki leaned closer again. He let his eyes go wide—the doe-eyed look he knew made alphas forget their own names—and brought his lips close enough that Sekai could feel the warmth of his breath. His fingers went below Sekai's right ear, where the edge of the scent patch met skin, and traced the border of it with featherlight strokes.

"Hmm?"

Sekai's breath hitched.

Taiki's fingertips circled the patch teasingly. His lips hovered an inch from Sekai's, parted just enough to be an invitation and a dare.

Sekai chuckled. Then his hand found Taiki's shoulder and pushed.

Taiki's back hit the grass. The sky wheeled above him and then Sekai filled his vision, braced on one arm. He loomed over him with blood drying on his cheek and dirt smudged across his jaw.

He had no business looking like that. No man who had been beaten and thrown to the ground for two hours had any right to be that devastatingly, infuriatingly handsome.

Sekai's fingers caught Taiki's chin and tilted it up.

"You are one feisty omega."

Taiki tilted his head slightly and showed a provocative smile.

"Your feisty omega, my Lord."

The words barely left his lips before Sekai's mouth claimed them. Sekai's smile pressed against Taiki's as he nipped at his lower lip and swallowed the laugh that followed.

Taiki's hands fisted in Sekai's ruined shirt and pulled him down. Sekai let himself be pulled, his weight settling against Taiki while the grass tickled Taiki's neck.

Three days after Wisteria Cottage, the Sato household received Lord Yamamoto Sekai at half past two in the afternoon.

He arrived with Leiya trailing behind him carrying a wrapped arrangement of white orchids and deep red roses—Tetsuya had advised, since white meant admiration and red meant something he was no longer afraid to say aloud. Sekai had spent an embarrassing amount of time at Shunsuke's shop discussing the matter, with Shunsuke leaning across the counter, clearly entertained by his own friend's suffering.

The drawing room was bright and warm. Taiki sat across from the settee in a pale blue coat with ivory along the lapels, his bustle skirt pooled in neat layers around the chair.

Sekai presented the flowers.

"For you. And before you say anything, I chose them myself."

Taiki accepted the arrangement. "You chose them yourself?"

"With minimal assistance."

"Mr. Takeuchi told you what to pick, didn't he."

Sekai sat down across from him. "He suggested options. I made the final selection."

"That is the same thing."

"It is categorically not the same—"

"Tea, Lord Yamamoto?" Takahiro held up the pot.

Sekai accepted the cup with both hands and a composed, "Thank you, Lady Sato."

Tetsuya beamed at him from the adjacent chair, making Sekai felt like a twelve years old boy.

The conversation that followed was ordinary, at least on the surface. They talked about the summer season winding toward its close, about Kenchi's latest letter from the border, about a new exhibition at the Royal Gallery that Taiki had read about in the paper.

Sekai had read the same article. This led to a disagreement about the artistic merits of portraiture versus landscape painting that neither of them intended to start and neither of them was willing to surrender.

"Landscape captures something honest," Taiki said, leaning forward. "A portrait captures only what the subject wishes you to see."

"Or it captures what a skilled artist can perceive that the subject cannot hide. You cannot tell me there is more truth in a painting of a hill than in a face."

"A hill doesn't lie to you."

"Neither does a good portrait." He looked at Taiki steadily. "You'd be surprised what a trained eye can find."

The last sentence had nothing to do with paintings, and they both knew it. Taiki's lashes dropped, a flush crept from his collar to the tops of his ears. He occupied himself with the arrangement of flowers in his hands.

Takahiro and Tetsuya exchanged a glance over their respective teacups.

When Sekai rose to leave an hour later, Taiki walked him to the drawing room door.

"Same time Thursday?" Sekai asked quietly.

Taiki looked up at him, hand fiddling the red diamond at his throat. Yes, he had worn it today. He had not mentioned it. Sekai had noticed within the first thirty seconds and said nothing either.

"Thursday," Taiki agreed.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Tetsuya had chosen the Kensington walking path. It was respectable, well-populated at that hour, and had particularly fine roses.

Taiki walked, his hands circling around Sekai's arm beside him. Tetsuya trailing at precisely the chaperone distance. Yusei followed further back with Leiya.

"You're quiet," Taiki observed.

Sekai glanced at him sideways. "I'm composing my next argument."

"About?"

"You claimed at Tuesday's call that Scott's poetry is superior to Byron's. I have been refining my counterpoint."

"That was four days ago."

"Good arguments require time."

Taiki's mouth curved. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, but the curve stayed. "If you require four days to argue against Scott, perhaps your counterpoint is not as strong as you believe."

"Or I was allowing you the temporary comfort of thinking you'd won."

"That is something people say when they've lost."

Sekai stopped walking, which made Taiki stop too.

Taiki looked up and find Sekai with his arms folded and one brow raised. Taiki had learned this particular expression—it meant he is about to say something he finds extremely clever.

"Byron wrote about desire as someone who had actually felt it. Scott wrote about honour as someone who observed it from a distance. One of them is a poet. The other is a very talented archivist."

Taiki stared at him. "That is—That is actually a fair point."

"I know," Sekai smiled, which made Taiki scoffed.

"Don't look so satisfied."

"I'm not satisfied. I'm vindicated. There's a difference."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the lavender borders.

"Do you miss it?" Taiki asked. "The travelling."

Sekai considered. "Parts of it."

"Which parts?"

"The anonymity." He said it plainly. "Somewhere without anyone who knew the name Yamamoto or what it was supposed to mean. You could just—be. Without the weight of all the things people have already decided about you."

Taiki looked at him. "I know something about that."

"I imagine you do." Sekai looked back, voice quiet.

The path curved around a bank of roses. Taiki's hand tightened around Sekai's arm, closing their distance a bit more than allowed in courting etiquette. If Sekai felt it, he didn't say anything.

"For what it's worth," Taiki said, after a beat, "I find that I know the name Yamamoto very differently from how anyone else seems to."

Sekai turned to look at him. "How do you know it?"

Taiki kept his gaze on the path. His cheeks had gone the colour of the roses beside them. "Insufferably well, against my better judgment and at considerable inconvenience to my peace of mind."

Sekai laughed.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Lady Iwata's musicale was a small affair—thirty guests in a well-appointed music room, with a soprano performing after supper. Lord Iwata—Gan himself standing at the door greeting everyone.

Shunsuke arrived with a glass already in hand. "You look nervous," he told Sekai.

"I am not nervous."

"Your cravat is slightly off-centre."

Sekai's hand went to his throat before he caught himself.

Shunsuke grinned. "Nervous."

The Satos arrived with Takahiro and Keito, Taiki in dark burgundy tonight, the red diamond glinting at his throat. Keito spotted Sekai immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Lord Sekai!" She crossed the room. "Brother Taiki spent an hour choosing that coat. He said it was because he felt like something warmer but I personally think—"

Taiki immediately appeared at her elbow with a cup of punch. "Keito, would you like some punch?" 

"I would love some punch, thank you, Brother." She accepted it and drank. She said nothing further, but looked between them with excited eyes.

Sekai looked at Taiki. "An hour, was it."

"My maid Yusei is thorough. And the coat is warm." Taiki lifted his chin.

"It is also precisely the colour of the necklace you're wearing."

The composure flickered. Just briefly, before the chin went up another degree. "A coincidence."

"Naturally." Sekai offered his arm. "Shall we find seats before the soprano begins?"

They sat side by side in the second row, Takahiro settling one seat down. Shunsuke and Gan arranged themselves behind them, and within two minutes of the soprano beginning her first piece, Shunsuke leaned forward between the two chairs.

"Don't mind me, pretend I'm not here."

"We were," Sekai said, without turning around.

During the second movement, Taiki leaned slightly toward Sekai and whispered, "She's flat on the upper register."

Sekai tilted his head. "Second and fourth bars. I thought the same."

"Do you play?"

"Piano. Adequately. You?"

"Adequately," Taiki echoed, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "We are both adequately accomplished and neither of us is willing to be the first to admit a limitation."

"I admitted I needed four days to argue against Scott."

"That was not an admission. That was a strategic delay."

Sekai's shoulder shifted, pressing briefly against Taiki's. "You're the only person I've ever met who argues about the definitions of words in the middle of someone else's argument."

"It matters that we use them correctly."

"It matters that you always have the last—"

"She recovered," Taiki said suddenly, looking forward. His voice had gone warm. "The high B. She recovered beautifully."

Sekai looked at the soprano, then back at Taiki. The candlelight caught his profile—the upward angle of his nose, the curve of his lower lip, the way his lashes fanned when he blinked. The red diamond sat at the hollow of his throat and rose with each breath.

Sekai forgot entirely what they had been arguing about.

When the interval came and the room broke into conversation, Gan appeared at Sekai's shoulder with two fresh glasses of wine. He smiled so contently, like he had just watched everything he'd hoped for.

"Well," he said quietly, handing one to Sekai.

Sekai took it and said nothing.

Gan looked at Taiki, now deep in conversation with other omega across the room.

"Does he know yet?"

"Know what?"

"That you are hopelessly, catastrophically—"

"Shut up." Sekai cut it with flushed face. He looked at Taiki across the room, and the thing in his chest that had been building for months sat warmly.

"Go talk to him," Gan said. "Stop watching him from across the room like a painting you're afraid to touch."

Sekai handed back the glass, crossed the room, and offered Taiki a fresh cup of punch. Taiki took it with a look that said you were watching me, weren't you, and Sekai's answering smile said yes, and I'd do it again. Neither of them spoke a word of it aloud.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The whispers began at the door.

The Sinclair ball was the last grand event before the season's formal close, and the ballroom held three hundred guests in silk and powder.

Taiki knew the moment people saw them together.

He had been standing with Takahiro near the east pillar when Sekai crossed the room toward him, composed in black suit with a dark burgundy cravat. The whispers moved through the crowd.

Is that Lord Yamamoto?

With the Diamond?

Surely not—

Wasn't he with Lord Sawamoto—

He chose the monster over Lord Sawamoto? A fool Diamond—

They say he broke three—

The monster is—

Takahiro's hand pressed briefly against Taiki's arm. Taiki drew a breath and looked directly at Sekai's approaching face rather than the crowd.

"Mr. Sato." Sekai inclined his head. The formality was deliberate—he knew the rules and observed them in public without being asked. "You look well."

"Lord Yamamoto." Taiki met his eyes.

The whispers did not stop. If anything they layered, accumulating in the corners of the room. Taiki felt them on the back of his neck and on the sides of his face, the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes judging on everything.

He kept his chin level. He had not come this far in this season, through every presumptuous alpha and every dismissive remark, to lower it now.

Sekai did not look at the crowd once.

He looked at Taiki, and only at Taiki, like he had always given him from the beginning of their encounter. As though every other person in the room was furniture.

"Would you honour me with a dance?" he asked.

"I would." Taiki placed his hand on Sekai's offered arm. "Though I suspect the room will talk regardless."

He led Taiki toward the floor. "Let tehm. They were talking before we arrived. It won't improve their evening."

The first notes of a waltz opened across the ballroom. Sekai's hand settled at Taiki's waist steadily, and Taiki placed his hand on Sekai's shoulder as they moved.

The whispers swelled. Taiki heard fragments—monster and Diamond and what is Lord Sato thinking. He looked up at Sekai's face and found it calm and composed, and the whispers fell away.

"You're counting the steps," Sekai observed.

"I am not."

"Your jaw tightens on every third beat."

Taiki consciously relaxed his jaw. "I was thinking."

"About?"

"Whether the red in your cravat was deliberate."

Sekai's hand shifted at his waist, drawing him a few centimeters closer than the rules. "What do you think?"

"I think nothing about you is accidental."

"Perceptive."

"Insufferable," Taiki corrected, but his mouth had curved despite him.

They turned through the upper arc of the floor, and the other couples gave them a wide spot—whether from courtesy or spectacle, Taiki had stopped to care. Sekai danced very well, and Taiki had good instincts on a floor, and the waltz between them felt like breathing.

"You're not going to look at them, are you?" Taiki said.

"No."

"Even when they're practically narrating us."

"Particularly then."

Taiki glanced sideways briefly at the crowd. Heads bent together, fans raised to mouths. He looked back at Sekai.

"Does it not bother you at all?"

"It bothers me that it bothers you," Sekai stared intently. "And that they think they have any claim on what you are or what you choose."

Taiki's breath caught. He covered it by tilting his head back slightly, looking up at the chandelier as they turned. "You should warn me before you say things like that."

"Why?"

"Because I have nowhere to put my face when you do."

"I rather like where your face is." Sekai looked down at him and smiled teasingly. "Particularly when it goes that colour."

Taiki felt the blush arrive before he could prevent it. He pressed his lips together. "You are genuinely insufferable."

"You've mentioned it."

"And you are not going to stop."

"No. I'm afraid not. Not for as long as I can see that blush," Sekai said softly.

Taiki huffed, pretended to be annoyed.

"Then I suppose you will be insufferable for quite some time."

Sekai's smile broke fully, unguarded for once.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The late afternoon had settled over Kensington Garden. Most visitors had departed an hour ago. The lamplighters had not yet come.

Taiki walked beside Sekai with Yusei trailing at a respectful distance, far enough that her footsteps on gravel had faded entirely. It felt like the garden were theirs to own.

"You've been quiet for ten minutes," Taiki said.

"I'm often quiet."

"You're differently quiet." Taiki glanced at him sideways. Sekai's hands were clasped behind his back, his jaw grinding. "You have a look."

"I have one face, Taiki."

"You have several. This is the one you wore before you told me about your rut."

Sekai was quiet for a moment longer.

"I spoke with your father a week ago," Sekai eventually said.

Taiki stopped walking.

Sekai stopped too, a step ahead, and turned to look at him.

"You—You spoke with Father."

"For four hours." Sekai started in annoyed tone. "He wanted to discuss land rights for omegas in the event of a husband's death, the management of your dowry, my rut cycle, my financial holdings, my intentions regarding where we would live, whether I had opinions on omega education—"

Taiki burst out laughing. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth but it did nothing. Sekai watched him softly.

"Four hours," Sekai repeated.

"Father does like to be thorough."

"He had documents, Taiki. He produced actual documents."

"He's a businessman." Taiki was still smiling, his eyes bright. "What did you say about the land rights?"

"That any land held in your name before the marriage remains yours, obviously." Sekai said it as though there had never been another possible answer. "He seemed surprised."

"Most alphas aren't so obvious about it."

"Most alphas are not paying attention." Sekai held his gaze for a moment. "He gave me his blessing."

Taiki heard his own heartbeat, suddenly loud and thumping.

"... I see," he said shyly.

"Do you?"

"I think so." Taiki looked at him. He had learned over these months to look past Sekai's composure and see what lived underneath it.

There it was. The slight tremble of his face. The jaw that held too tight. The eyes that were both determined and frightened all at once.

"I want to say something to you, and I would ask you to let me finish before you argue with me."

"I make no promises."

"Taiki."

Taiki pressed his lips together. "Fine."

Sekai drew a slow breath. His composure cracked slightly, expression open only when he was with Taiki.

"You know what I am, you know what I've done. What my rut is capable of. The story the ton tells about me, and the parts of it that are true, and the parts that are worse than the story." His voice remained even but the effort was audible. "You know all of it. I have not hidden any of it from you."

Taiki said nothing. He had promised.

"I have spent four years believing that the most honourable thing I could do for any omega was to stay away from them entirely. That the kindest version of me was a distant one." He paused.

"And then you. Who argued with me at every available opportunity, and looked at me as though my reputation were a minor inconvenience you intended to correct."

A breath of laughter escaped Taiki before he could stop it. Sekai's mouth softened.

"This is the last chance," Sekai said quietly. "If you want to walk away from this, from me—from what I am and what comes with it—then walk away now, Taiki. I won't follow. I will not think less of you. I would understand it entirely." His eyes held Taiki's without flinching.

Taiki tilted his head, pretended to consider it seriously.

"You spent four hours convincing my father to give me land rights in the event of your death." Taiki smiled. "What a terrible monster."

Something shifted in Sekai's face, the held tension releasing all at once.

He reached into the inside breast pocket of his coat and drew out a small box. Dark velvet, worn at one corner.

Then Sekai went down on one knee on the gravel path, and Taiki's breath left him entirely.

Sekai opened the box. Inside, a gold ring, set with a single red diamond, exactly the colour of the necklace.

"Sato Taiki, will you marry me?"

Sekai's voice was low and even.

Taiki looked at the ring. At Sekai's face, who was stripped completely bare. At his too rigid shoulders that was the last remnant of his composure.

"Yes," Taiki said without hesitation.

Sekai closed his eyes for one moment. Then he stood, and Taiki stepped forward, and Sekai's arms came around him, his face pressed to Taiki's hair.

Taiki gripped the front of Sekai's coat with both fists and held on.

They stayed like that in the empty garden, until Sekai pulled back just enough to look at him. His hands came up, cupping Taiki's face gently.

He kissed Taiki softly, just the press of his mouth as a way of thank you. Then Taiki leaned up into it and Sekai made a low sound, his hands sliding from Taiki's face to his jaw, tilting him. Taiki's fingers uncurled from his coat and found the lapels instead, pulling rather than gripping. Sekai answered by drawing him closer and closer and closer until there was no gap remaining between them.

The lemon scent rose warmly. Taiki's honey met it and wound through it, the way it always did.

When they broke apart, Taiki's forehead rested against Sekai's chin, and both of them were breathing unevenly.

"Four hours," Taiki murmured.

Sekai exhaled. "Do not."

Taiki laughed softly, against his jaw.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The announcement appeared in the morning papers on a Tuesday, and by Thursday it had become a hot topic in every drawing room and garden party in London.

Lord Yamamoto Sekai and Mr. Sato Taiki are engaged.

The Bellingham garden party on Friday afternoon was Taiki's first public appearance since the papers ran. He arrived with Takahiro on his arm and the red diamond at his throat glinting brightly. The whisper that moved through the guests at their entrance was audible enough that Takahiro smiled without looking at anyone.

Sekai was already there, standing at the far end of the lawn with Gan and Shunsuke, wearing dark grey and his usual mild detachment expression. He saw Taiki across the garden and his posture changed.

He excused himself from Takahiro at the earliest opportunity.

They met near the rose beds, away from the most of guests, and Taiki had barely reached Sekai's side before Shunsuke seized both his hands.

"Mr. Sato, I want you to know that I take full credit," Shunsuke said warmly.

"You do not," Sekai said.

"I made the necklace and the ring."

"You made them because I commissioned it."

"The vision was collaborative." Shunsuke beamed at Taiki. "He came to my shop looking like a man in physical pain and asked for red diamonds. I knew immediately."

Taiki looked up at Sekai. "Physical pain."

"He's exaggerating."

"He looked like a man who had attempted to reason himself out of his own feelings and failed," Gan contributed, appearing at Shunsuke's shoulder.

"Gan."

"I say this with love." Gan raised his glass. "To both of you, genuinely. Mr. Sato—" he met Taiki's eyes, and beneath the teasing his expression was sincere, "—thank you for being stubborn enough."

Taiki felt warmth in his chest. "Someone had to be."

"He certainly wasn't going to manage it alone," Shunsuke agreed.

Sekai looked at Taiki with suffered expression. "I hope you understand what you've agreed to inherit."

"The friends? I like them."

"Traitor."

Across the lawn, a bunch of omegas had arranged themselves near the refreshment table. Their heads tilted and their mouth were hidden by fans. Eyes tracked across the garden in the direction of Sekai and Taiki.

"Lady Mochizuki has looked over here seven times," Taiki said conversationally.

Sekai did not turn. "Eight. She started before you arrived."

"She's telling the man in yellow something very serious."

"Mr. Fujita." Sekai's voice wasbored. "He was at the Harrington ball. He told Lady Pemberton that an omega choosing his own match was a sign of inadequate paternal discipline."

Taiki looked at him. "You heard that?"

"Shunsuke heard it. He has the gift of eavesdropping without appearing to."

"A talent I deploy responsibly," Shunsuke confirmed.

Taiki glanced back toward the refreshment table. "I wonder what she's saying now."

"Probably that you've made a massive error in judgment and the match reflects poorly on your family, and that your father should have intervened, and that Lord Yamamoto should have stopped it."

"And yet Father spent four hours vetting you personally."

"I don't want to remember that," Sekai said in wounded tone.

Taiki smiled at him. "I'm going to enjoy reminding you of that for a very long time."

"Yes." Sekai looked at him, smiling back. "I know."

Lady Mochizuki chose that moment to look directly at them—at Taiki's face, at Sekai's expression, at whatever she found in the space between them—and whatever she had been saying to Mr. Fujita apparently need revision, because the fan dropped and she blinked.

"She's stopped talking," Taiki observed.

"You'll have that effect," Sekai said, not looking away from Taiki.

"You're not looking at her."

"No."

Taiki turned fully to face him, the rose beds were warm behind them. Across the garden, people were still talking about them, but Taiki found he did not really mind them that much.

"You know, for a monster, you're managing this party very tolerably."

"The company has improved," Sekai said, and held out his arm.

Taiki took it, and they walked around the garden together.

The morning arrived too brightly for Sekai's nerves.

Leiya had laid out the white suit the night before, now hung against the wardrobe door. Sekai stood before the mirror in his shirtsleeves and stared at it.

"You've been staring at that suit for ten minutes," Leiya said, from somewhere behind him.

"I'm aware."

"It won't change."

"Also aware."

A knock at the door preceded Tetsuya, who entered already holding a handkerchief. His mother crossed the room, took Sekai's face in both hands and looked at him with watery eyes.

"My son," he said, which was all he managed before the handkerchief came up.

"Mother." Sekai covered Tetsuya's hands with his own. "I haven't even put the jacket on yet."

"I know." Tetsuya pressed his lips together. "I know, I'm being foolish, I just—four years ago I wasn't certain I would ever see this. You, standing in this room, on this morning. Trusting someone enough."

Sekai said nothing. There wasn't anything adequate.

"He's a good boy," Tetsuya continued, quieter now. "Taiki. He's stubborn and bright and he isn't frightened of you, which is precisely what you needed, even when you were insisting you didn't need anything at all."

"I was wrong about that."

"You were." Tetsuya smoothed Sekai's collar. "You were wrong about quite a lot, and you had the sense to eventually notice. That, is all any of us can do."

The door opened again. Kenchi filled the frame, took in the scene calmly. The man had decided he was not going to be undone by a wedding morning. He stepped inside and looked at his son.

"Hm. You look pale," he commented.

"I'm fine."

Kenchi's expression softened. He crossed the room and stood beside Sekai, both of them facing the mirror together.

"Nervous?" Kenchi asked through the mirror.

Sekai considered denying it. "Yes."

Kenchi nodded, as though this was the correct answer. He reached out and set one hand on Sekai's shoulder firmly.

"Good, that means you understand what you're taking on." He paused for a beat. "An alpha who walks into his bonding without nerves is an alpha who hasn't thought carefully enough about the weight of what he's promising."

His hand tightened briefly. "You have always thought carefully. Too carefully, sometimes. But today you have thought the right amount, and you have made the right choice. Now you will go and you will keep every word you say."

It was, characteristically, both the least and the most his father had ever said to him.

"Yes, Father. I will." Sekai answered.

Kenchi patted his shoulder, stepped back, and began helping him into the jacket. Tetsuya reappeared at his other side, still clutching the handkerchief but with more composure, adjusting Sekai's cufflinks.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Yusei was threading a ribbon through Taiki's veil, while Keito sat on the window seat eating from a small dish of sugared almonds and offering commentary.

"You're going to cry during the oath. I'm telling you now so it's not a surprise."

"I'm not going to cry," Taiki said.

"You cried at the Pemberton musicale when they played that one piece."

"That was the music."

"You cry at music. Oaths are emotional. You're going to cry." Keito ate another almond. "I'm just being factually accurate."

Taiki opened his mouth but paused because Yusei had begun pressing the veil into place.

Takahiro came in from the adjoining room carrying a small case, from which she produced pearl earrings—old ones, worn at her own bonding—and set them on the dressing table.

"Mother," Taiki said.

"Don't." Takahiro warned. "If you say something sentimental I'll start crying, and then Yusei will start crying, and none of us will be presentable."

Taiki pressed his lips together. Yusei made a small sound that may have been suppressed emotion.

"Juts wear them, and know what they mean."

Akira appeared in the doorway.

He was dressed perfectly, but completely unprepared for the sight of his son in white, with the veil pinned back and the bustle skirt layered soft behind him and the pearl earrings just placed. Something moved across Akira's face.

"Father," Taiki said, watching him.

"Yes." Akira cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm—" he crossed the room and stood before Taiki, "—you are extraordinary," he said. "You have always been extraordinary. From the very first morning."

Keito, to her credit, said nothing. She set down the almonds.

Takahiro slipped her hand into Akira's arm and leaned into his shoulder briefly. "He's not leaving. He's just beginning somewhere new," she said gently.

Akira nodded, not entirely convinced, but willing to be.

He offered Taiki his arm. "Shall we?"

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The chapel was small—deliberately so, because it was for family and close friends only. Flowers banked either side of the aisle in cream and deep red.

Sekai stood at the altar.

He had stood in exposed positions before—before commanding officers, before hostile strangers in foreign cities, before his own father's judgment—and none of them had made his chest feel like this. He kept his hands still at his sides and watched the doors.

They finally opened.

Taiki walked in on Akira's arm, and Sekai, who had believed himself prepared, was not prepared.

The white suit was immaculate, the bustle skirt falling in layered frills as he moved, and the pretty veil was covering Taiki's face. The red diamond necklace sat at his throat.

His brown eyes found Sekai across the aisle immediately, and his expression, which had been composed, shifted the moment their gazes met.

Sekai forgot to breathe for a moment.

He was devastating. He had always been.

Taiki, for his part, was doing his best not to visibly stare.

He had seen Sekai in dark suits and travel coats, and once memorably, soaking wet on a cottage doorstep. He had not seen him in white. The suit was fitted well, and Sekai stood at the altar with the composed air except that his eyes were tracking Taiki across the chapel intesely.

The blush reached Taiki's ears before he'd taken six steps. He kept walking.

Akira brought him to the altar and stopped. He looked at Sekai in quiet, long moments. Then he took Taiki's hand from his own and placed it in Sekai's.

"He is the best of us. Look after what you're holding."

Sekai met his eyes. "With everything I have, Lord Sato. You have my word."

Akira held his gaze for one more moment, then stepped back. Somewhere behind them, Tetsuya made a sobbing sound. Takahiro, seated beside him, reached over and covered his hand with hers without looking away from the altar.

The officiant began.

The words of the ceremony were said, and Sekai and Taiki stood through them. They spoke their oaths in turn—Sekai first and Taiki followed. He did not cry, to Keito's visible surprise in the third pew, though his voice went unsteady at the final line and he had to pause before he finished.

Across the aisle, Gan had his arms folded and desperately tried not to cry. Shunsuke had made no such effort and was weeping openly into his sleeve. Alan was gripping Hayato's arm with both hands, and Hayato appeared to be consoling him.

The officiant completed the final passage and looked up.

"You may present the bond."

Sekai reached up and lifted the edge of Taiki's veil, drawing it back slowly. Taiki tipped his chin up and looked at him, and they were close now—close enough that Sekai's lemon scent wrapped around Taiki's honey.

"You're beautiful today," Sekai said, barely above a whisper.

Taiki's eyes went wide in mock offense. "So I was ugly the other days?"

Sekai chuckled.

"You're always beautiful. But even more beautiful today, because from now on you're mine to keep," Sekai answered Taiki's challenge in teasing tone. "Yamamoto Taiki."

The name landed right at Taiki's heart. Taiki's blush deepened past his ears and down his neck, his expression entirely undone.

Then Sekai leaned in and kissed him.

The chapel erupted.

Shunsuke's cheer was the loudest. Gan began it and clapped twice before remembering himself. Alan abandoned all pretense and simply shouted. Hayato joined him. Keito stood on her seat in the third pew with both arms raised, which Akira observed and chose not to address. Tetsuya was weeping freely into his handkerchief and had given up entirely on composure, and Kenchi smiled genuinely.

Takahiro watched her son pulling Sekai closer by the lapel in the last moment of the kiss and laughed.

Sekai and Taiki broke apart. Taiki's face was still thoroughly red. Sekai looked at him full of affection.

"Yamamoto Taiki," Sekai said again, quieter this time.

"Don't let it go to your head," Taiki said, and ruined it completely by smiling.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The Yamamoto hall had been decorated simply for the occasion—cream flowers on the sills, tables arranged with so many food and refreshments. A small gathering, by any standard of the ton.

Sekai and Taiki had been separated twice already by well-meaning relatives before they found each other again near the far end of the hall, where Shunsuke had stood with a glass of wine.

"Come here." Shunsuke put down his glass and seized Sekai by both shoulders. Then, apparently deciding this was insufficient, pulled him fully into a very tight embrace that Sekai physically endured.

"Four years." Shunsuke's voice was muffled against Sekai's shoulder. "Do you understand me? Four years of watching you be absolutely miserable—"

"I was not miserable—"

"—wandering to other countries, refusing every introduction, telling Gan and I you were fine when you clearly were not, and I want you to know I have been holding this in since the chapel and I have earned this moment."

"You cried through the entire ceremony."

"I cried tastefully through the ceremony." Shunsuke pulled back, his eyes visibly red and smile widened. He looked at Taiki over Sekai's shoulder. "You have done a tremendous service to everyone who loves this man. I hope you understand that."

Taiki's mouth curved. "I'm beginning to."

Gan arrived beside them with more composure, though there were redness around his eyes. He clasped Sekai's arm, said nothing for a while.

"You got there," Gan said, eventually.

Sekai's answer was quiet. "I got there."

Shunsuke, who had retrieved his wine and was already recovering his natural character, pointed at Sekai with the glass. "I want it acknowledged, formally, that Gan had to physically knock you down in a field before you admitted it."

Taiki turned to look at Sekai. "I heard sparring."

"It was sparring."

"He cried on the ground," Shunsuke said.

"I did not—"

"He said I love him into the grass." Shunsuke mimed the position with such commitment that the wine nearly sloshed. Taiki covered his mouth with the back of his hand, laughing fully. Sekai looked at the ceiling.

"And the necklace." Shunsuke pointed on Taiki. "Three days after you left my shop, he came and sat in my chair, and commissioned a bloody red diamond necklace for—" he lowered his voice to an absurd whisper— "a friend."

"I said that once—"

"With this face." Shunsuke arranged his own features into a helpless longing expression, that Taiki burst out laughing again. Even Gan smiled.

"A friend," Shunsuke repeated, still wearing the face.

"I will take the wine away from you," Sekai said.

Shunsuke straightened, beaming. "I was honoured to make that ring as well. I want you both to know, as a professional, if you ever need anything again. Commissioned pieces, anniversary gifts, anything at all." He pointed at Sekai. "You are my absolute first priority. The lovesick fool expression you make when ordering things for him is the greatest thing I have ever witnessed in my career, and I intend to witness it many times more."

"Done," Taiki said immediately.

"Taiki—"

"Thank you, Mr. Takeuchi." Taiki smiled at Shunsuke. "We will be in touch."

On the other side of the hall, Alan stood with both hands clasped at his chest, eyes red at the corners. Beside him, Hayato's silver hair caught the afternoon light, his easy grin intact.

Taiki noticed them, crossed the hall walked straight into Alan's arms.

Alan caught him with a sob and a laugh, squeezing hard enough to crumple Taiki's collar.

"Congratulations." Alan's voice broke. "You absolute disaster of a man, congratulations—"

"Stop crying, you'll make me cry—"

"I am not crying, I have champagne in my eye—"

Sekai stood at Taiki's shoulder and watched the exchange. His gaze moved from Alan—small, blonde, weeping openly into Taiki's neck while claiming not to weep, to Hayato, who stood half a step behind his wife with his champagne glass tipped toward his mouth and an easy smile.

Sekai looked at him for a long moment.

Hayato's smile did not flicker. His eyes, however, slid sideways from time to time.

Taiki broke from the embrace and turned. "Allow me." He gestured between them. "This is Komori Alan, my dearest friend in all the world. And beside him, his husband, Lord Komori Hayato."

Hayato executed a flawless bow. "Lord Yamamoto. A genuine pleasure to see you again—"

"Ah, Lord Komori." Sekai's smile was so cold it could kill. "Indeed. I believe the last time we met, you informed me that Taiki was days away from marrying some duke and departing England permanently."

Sekai paused and pretended to wonder in confusion. "I have since thought often of that conversation. I had hoped to find you at the gentlemen's club again to discuss it further, but you seem to have made yourself rather scarce since that evening. I could not imagine why."

Hayato's smile cracked.

He took one step back, directly behind Alan's shoulder.

"Please do not kill me." He said it to the back of Alan's head. "I am a recent addition to this country, I have very few friends here, and my wife would be devastated—"

"Hayato." Alan elbowed him without turning around.

"I am simply being transparent—"

"Get out from behind me—"

Taiki had gone quiet. He looked at Alan, then at Hayato, then back at Alan. His eyes moved slowly, connecting one thread to the next, and suddenly found the final answer.

"Alan."

Alan straightened. "Taiki—"

"You told me to go to the summer house."

"I merely suggested a change of—"

"You are the one who sent Lord Komori to the club." Taiki's voice remained level, which was somehow worse than shouting. "You invented the duke. You invented the wedding. You could have arranged any of this here, in London, in a drawing room like a civilised person—" He gestured at the decorated hall around them. "And instead you sent a man on horseback across three counties?"

"I needed the dramatic effect," Alan huffed. Then he added, with considerably more heat, "And I needed him to suffer a little, frankly—"

"Alan—"

"Look. If Hayato and I had not done something, do you know where you would be right now?"

Alan pointed at Sekai. "You would be on a ship to the continent on another one of your endless voyages, and you would never come back, because you are too stubborn to admit you love someone until it becomes a crisis. And you—" The finger swung to Taiki, "—would be in Lord Sawamoto's very pleasant drawing room, dying of boredom, because that man agrees with everything you say and you would have lost your mind within the year."

Alan crossed his arms. "So yes. I arranged it. You're welcome."

"I had to cross through a storm for three hours on a horseback," Sekai said.

Alan turned to look at him properly. "I—" Something shifted in his expression. "Through a what?"

"A storm. On the Canterbury Road. Perhaps you recall, it rained rather extensively the evening I rode to Whitstable."

Alan looked surprised, a guilt moved through his features. But then his chin went up again.

"I don't control the weather."

Sekai stared at him annoyedly.

"You still deserved it." Alan pointed at him again firmly. "You kissed him and ran. You gave him a red diamond necklace—a red diamond, are you insane?—and then you ran. Do you want to know what Taiki did after you left?"

He did not wait for an answer. "He reorganized the entire east wing linen cupboard by thread count at two in the morning. Thread count. Then he did it again the next night because he said he'd done it wrong the first time. He didn't sleep for weeks. He came to me looking like a ghost and told me that he was absolutely fine—"

"Alan—" Taiki said sharply.

"—and then he cried into my sofa for two hours."

Taiki looked at the floor, wishing it to swallow him now.

Hayato surfaced from behind Alan's shoulder. He took a contemplative sip of his champagne.

"I did not know you rode through the storm for hours. I feel somewhat responsible for that portion specifically. I'm genuinely sorry." he said to Sekai genuinely. "Though the fact that you kept riding—that is, objectively speaking, rather sweet."

Sekai's eyes moved to him.

"Lord Komori. At White's, you extended an open invitation to demonstrate swordsmanship. I believe—"

He took one step forward, Hayato took one step backward.

Alan slid in the gap with both arms spread. "You'll have to go through me first before you touch my dear husband."

Sekai stared at him. Alan definitely had no fighting capability and was relying entirely on pure courage.

Then Taiki stepped forward and planted himself in front of Alan.

"And you'll have to go through me before you touch my best friend."

Sekai looked at his new wife.

"Taiki. This man fabricated a wedding. He sent me three hours through a storm on false information—"

"He was right, though."

"That is entirely beside—"

"Admit it. If Lord Komori hadn't come to the club, you would have sailed to the continent."

"I would have come to my senses eventually—"

"When? On the ship? In Portugal?" Taiki stepped closer. "Alan was right. Lord Komori was right. You were abroad on your endless voyages and I was one more dull tea party away from losing my mind entirely—"

"Lord Sawamoto would have been a great man for you. He agreed with everything you said—"

"Yes, and it was dreadful." Taiki folded his arms. "At least when you argue with me it goes somewhere."

Behind Taiki, Alan slowly turned to Hayato with a triumpahnt smile.

Sekai let out a long, controlled exhale.

"Fine. You win. Both of you." He looked at Alan, then Hayato, then back again. "I am grateful for the intervention. However—" he lifted one finger, "—there were other methods available. A letter. A simple invitation for a conversation. Any of which would have achieved the same result with considerably less suffering on my part."

"Where is the fun in that," Alan rolled his eyes and huffed.

"You could have just told him to go to the Sato residence," Hayato offered helpfully. "I did suggest that initially."

"I told you, you cannot rush—"

"You said he needed to earn it, I think him going to the Sato residence—"

"The barest minimum I want for his suffering was riding for hours. A storm was actually a nice touch—"

Sekai cleared his throat. "I am standing right here."

"We know," Alan and Hayato said, in unison.

Taiki pressed his lips together, before lost in a full-blown laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand and failed to contain it.

Sekai watched the laughter reach his eyes and shake his shoulders. He liked seeing Taiki like this over him crying.

He loved it. He loved him.

He reached out, tilted Taiki's chin and kissed him softly.

Taiki made a surprised sound against his mouth. When Sekai pulled back, Taiki's ears had gone red. He pressed the back of his hand to his lips and stared.

"What was that for—"

"You looked adorable." Sekai shrugged. "And I wanted to."

A beat of silence.

Then Alan laughed loudly as he seized Hayato's arm.

"They are going to be insufferable."

Hayato watched them with the warm, crinkle-eyed smile.

"Utterly insufferable," he agreed and raised his glass.

The drawing room clock had ticked forty-seven times since Taiki last sat still. He knew, because he had counted.

He smoothed his bustle skirt against the settee cushion, then adjusted it again, then folded his hands in his lap and immediately unfolded them. The red diamond necklace rested at his throat, and he touched it few times before catching himself.

"You are going to make a hole in that cushion," Keito said, from her chair by the window.

"I am sitting perfectly still."

"You have rearranged your collar four times."

"The collar is crooked."

"The collar is identical to how it was when Yusei fastened it twenty minutes ago. You are nervous. It's embarrassing to witness." Keito said, dry as chalk.

"Keito." Takahiro did not raise her voice, but Keito subsided.

Takahiro settled beside him on the settee. She pressed her hand over Taiki's fidgeting fingers and stilled them.

"It will be wonderful. All of it."

Taiki exhaled. "I know."

"You are allowed to be frightened and excited at the same time. That is rather the point of it." Takahiro tilted her head, a smile curving her mouth. "Besides—you are Yamamoto Taiki now."

The blush hit him like a wave. He pressed both hands to his cheeks.

"Mother."

Takahiro laughed.

From the sideboard, Akira refilled his glass again. The bottle was more than half empty. He was perfectly composed, but he had refilled that glass six times since breakfast.

"Father, are you quite all right?" Taiki asked.

"Perfectly." Akira took a sip.

Takahiro caught Taiki's eye and said nothing.

After a few moments passed, Yusei appeared in the doorway. "Lord Yamamoto Sekai has arrived."

Everyone rose. Taiki stood too quickly and nearly knock the vase beside the settee. Keito caught it without looking. They went outside into the cool morning air, where the Yamamoto carriage waited on the drive.

Sekai stood at the bottom of the front steps.

The early sun was doing him absolutely no favours—or rather, every favour, which was the problem. Dark coat, clean lines, hair neat, he was basically a living painting.

He held a single rose. He extended it when Taiki reached the last step.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." Taiki took the rose. "Thank you." He looked at Sekai's infuriatingly handsome face and felt irritation rise. "It's genuinely unreasonable, you know. That you look like that at seven in the morning."

Sekai's mouth curved. "Like what, precisely?"

"You know perfectly well like what."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be specific."

"I won't."

"Pity." Sekai's gaze moved over him, taking in the deep green of Taiki's coat, the frilled layers of his bustle skirt, the flush already climbing his neck. "For what it's worth—the view from this side is considerably more striking."

The rose did not hide his ears going red.

Yusei appeared at the carriage. "Master Taiki, your belongings are loaded. We are ready when you are." She glanced between them with a smile.

Taiki turned to his family. Takahiro embraced him first, her hand smoothing the back of his hair the way she had done since he was small. "Write to us," she murmured.

"Every week," Taiki promised.

Akira set down his glass—yes, he had carried it outside—and held Taiki with both arms, wordless for a long moment. When he stepped back, he gave a small smile. "You will be well, my dearest."

"I will be well," Taiki agreed.

Then Keito.

She stood with her arms crossed and her chin up, and for three seconds she looked very tough. Then her eyes went bright, then brighter and she made a furious sound in the back of her throat before throwing both arms around Taiki's neck.

"I have always thought you were absolutely terrible, and I am going to miss you terribly," she said, muffled against his shoulder.

Taiki held her tightly. "I will miss you too, you little gremlin."

She pulled back and wiped her eyes aggressively.

Taiki turned. Sekai stood with one hand extended, smiling.

"Well, I imagine this occasion calls for it," Sekai said, remembering how Taiki kept refusing his hand during riding lessons.

Taiki laughed as he took his hand, and let Sekai hand him up into the carriage.

Sekai said his goodbyes briskly to The Satos. A bow to Takahiro, a firm handshake with Akira that turned into an embrace, a ruffle on Keito's hair that she batted away with a huff. Then he climbed in beside Taiki. Leiya and Yusei settled outside with the driver, and the carriage rolled forward.

Taiki watched his house through the window. He watched Keito raise her hand and then drop it. He watched Akira slide his arm around Takahiro's waist, and Takahiro lean into him. Then they were gone, swallowed by the bend in the lane.

Silence settled inside the carriage, only constant sound of horse hooves on the gravels.

Yamamoto Taiki. He turned the name over silently, feeling its unfamiliarity. It was strange. It was also, undeniably, his new name.

A warm weight settled over his hand—Sekai's fingers, closing over his own.

"The estate is four hours north. Good roads most of the way. You will like it—there is a lake, and the library has an embarrassing number of books on natural philosophy." Sekai paused to chuckle. "You will like that specifically and I will spend the first three days extracting you from it."

"I make no apologies for that."

"I expected none." Sekai turned Taiki's hand over and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the inside of Taiki's wrist, where the pulse lived.

Taiki's breath caught.

"It will be wonderful. All of it," Sekai said quietly against his skin. An echo, Taiki realised distantly, of what his mother had said.

"... You cannot promise that."

"No. But I intend to make it true regardless."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The estate appeared enormous before the carriage reached the gate.

Through the window, Taiki pressed forward in his seat, and Sekai watched him do it—the slight parting of his lips, the way his hand moved to the window frame as the house came into view.

It was a modest estate by most accounts. Warm stone, wide windows, two storeys wrapped in climbing roses. The gardens swept south in layers of colour, and beyond them, there was a small lake.

"There's a lake," Taiki said in awe.

"I mentioned that already."

"You mentioned it. You did not say it was there." He gestured at the window as though this explained something.

Sekai said nothing, which was the better part of wisdom.

The carriage stopped before the entrance steps, and before Sekai had descended to hand Taiki down, the doors had already opened. Bunch of maids lined the steps in pressed aprons. The head housekeeper, a brisk woman with silver-streaked hair named Mrs. Haima, stepped forward with a low bow.

"Welcome, Lord Yamamoto." She turned, and her expression warmed. "And welcome, Lady Yamamoto."

The title hung in the air.

Taiki's face flushed a bit. He truly still had not used to this name.

Sekai, half a step behind him, pressed his lips together. He did not succeed in hiding the smile, because Taiki's eyes cut sideways to him.

"Thank you," Taiki said, with admirable composure.

Mrs. Haima beamed and began directing maids to the luggage. Yusei had already dismounted and fallen into step beside her, exchanging useful information. Leiya appeared at Sekai's shoulder, began to say something cheerful, and reconsidered it wisely when Sekai looked at him.

They were ushered inside.

The interior was light, all pale walls and windows left open in anticipation of their arrival. Flowers on every table—cream and amber colored, nothing excessive. Taiki slowed as they passed through the entrance hall, tilting his head up at the ceiling.

"Lady Yamamoto," he rolled it on his tongue, trying to get used.

"Yes," Sekai said.

"That is what they will call me."

"It is what you are," Sekai said, satisfaction in his tone.

Taiki turned to look at him. "You are enjoying this enormously."

"I'm not saying anything."

"Your face is saying a considerable amount."

Lunch was set in the small dining room, where the table was long enough to seat ten but laid for two at opposite ends in the formal fashion.

Taiki walked the length of it, regarded the arrangement, and then simply picked up his plate and moved it to Sekai's right. The footman attending the room blinked. Taiki set his cutlery down and sat.

Sekai took his seat. He did not remark on the move, but he did smile.

"There is no reason to shout at you across the length of a table," Taiki said, unfolding his napkin. "We are two people, not a parliament."

"Parliament is considerably louder."

"We might yet rival them."

They ate, and the banter ran its easy course between dishes—Taiki's opinion on the soup, which was excellent, Sekai's opinion on Taiki's opinion, which was that it was unnecessary but not wrong.

Taiki stole a piece of bread from the basket nearest Sekai rather than reaching for his own. Sekai pushed it closer to him without comment. Taiki noticed and said nothing.

After lunch, Sekai led him through the estate.

He showed Taiki the library first. Taiki stepped inside and simply stopped moving. Three walls of shelves, floor to ceiling, with a rolling ladder on a brass rail and two chairs by the window facing south. Taiki's eyes moved slowly.

"Natural philosophy is on third section. Second shelf from the top," Sekai said from the doorway.

Taiki's gaze moved immediately to the said shelf. He was surprised.

"This is not a general collection."

"Estate libraries vary."

"Yes. But this is different."

"Some estates acquire books without particular intention."

"There is an entire section of my favorite topics," Taiki said, turning to look at him.

Sekai met his eyes. "Coincidence."

Taiki looked at him for a long moment. Then he turned back to the shelves, and the small smile at the corner of his mouth said everything.

The music room came next—a bright, south-facing room where a pianoforte stood before two wide windows that opened directly onto the garden. So that when Taiki pushed them open the smell of grass and warm roses came straight through.

He sat on the bench and played three tentative bars, then stopped and looked at the garden spread before him. A long sweep of lawn, a stone path, beds of lavender in full summer haze. The lake was visible from here, glittering at the far edge.

Sekai stood slightly behind him and watched him look at it.

He was not subtle about it. He was aware he wasn't. Taiki's profile in the afternoon light—the soft line of his jaw, the slight flush still on his cheeks, the sweet smile—was the sort of thing that made subtlety feel irrelevant.

The garden walk confirmed everything. Taiki moved through the lavender path with his hands skimming the tops of the bushes.

"You prepared this," Taiki said to a lavender stalk, turning to look at Sekai. "All of it. The library. The music room."

"The estate was already—"

"The natural philosophy section."

"—furnished when we arrived—"

"The pianoforte facing the garden."

"—these things happen naturally over time—"

"Sekai, I am not Keito. You cannot outlast me."

Sekai looked at the beds of lavenders.

"It is possible that some arrangements were made in advance," Sekai said finally.

Taiki's smile broke open and laughed, as he turned back toward the garden.

Sekai caught him.

One hand at Taiki's waist, turning him back, and then Taiki's laugh was still on his face when Sekai kissed him.

Taiki made a small sound of surprise and then didn't. His hands found Sekai's lapels, and he kissed back with the same passion. The garden felt warmer.

When they finally separated, Sekai admitted it.

"Yes," Sekai said.

Taiki blinked. "Yes what?"

"Yes, I arranged it." He brushed a strand of hair from Taiki's forehead. "The books. The rooms. The garden view. All of it."

Taiki stared up at him. "Then why did you argue with me for the last ten minutes?"

"I was afraid if you would hate it." He tucked the strand behind Taiki's ear, and left his hand there, cupped gently against Taiki's face. "You deserve this much. You deserve considerably more than this, and I intend to spend the future fulfilling them."

Flush deepened across Taiki's cheeks, and he looked away toward the lake.

"That was a very unfair thing to say," Taiki commented.

"I've been told I'm unfair."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Being—" Taiki gestured vaguely. "Like that."

Sekai pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"No," Sekai said quietly.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Night deepened across the estate. The moonlight slipped through on the floor of the master chamber, where Taiki lay still on the bed, his hands folded over his stomach. The fine white cotton of his night rail fell just past his knees, but he felt overexposed. The sheet beneath him was cool. His honey scent warmed in the quiet room.

He heard the door open and close, footsteps across the floor, then the rustle of fabric. Sekai approached the bed, and Taiki kept his eyes fixed on the canopy above.

The mattress dipped. The weight settled beside him.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, Taiki’s quick and shallow, Sekai’s deep and even. Then Sekai turned onto his side and reached out. His hand covered Taiki’s, and Taiki flinched.

He grabbed Sesai’s hand back immediately, holding it tight as if to apologize for the reaction.

Sekai’s thumb stroked the back of his hand.

"Taiki."

"Yes."

Sekai waited. The silence stretched, thick with things Taiki had trying to say.

"I'm clueless." The words finally tumbled out. “About—about… the consummation. I know the word. I know—what it means, in principle. But I don’t—Omega school just told us to receive whatever the Alpha does. Be pliant. Be… receptive. They didn’t tell us how to—”

Taiki's voice dropped to a whisper. “How to please you. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Sekai’s hand tightened around his. He shifted closer, his body warm against Taiki’s side.

In the moonlight, Taiki saw his expression. His mouth was soft, his eyes darker than usual.

“You don’t have to please me. You don’t have to do anything.” Sekai said, so quietly Taiki almost didn’t hear it.

He leaned down and kissed Taiki’s forehead.

“You will not disappoint me,” he murmured against his skin. “Let me be gentle with you.”

Taiki’s chest trembled. He finally nodded.

Sekai kissed his cheek, then his mouth, slowly until Taiki remembered how to kiss back.

It was easier then. Sekai’s hands were steady as he traced Taiki’s jaw and throat. Taiki sighed against his lips.

The kiss deepened, passion kindling slowly. Sekai’s mouth moved to his neck, tasting skin that had never been touched like this. Taiki’s fingers curled into the sheet.

Then Sekai’s hand slid up Taiki’s leg, gathering the cotton hem of his night rail, pulling it upward and took it off until cool air touched Taiki’s thighs, his stomach and his chest. He paused, and Taiki felt the heat of Sekai’s gaze like a touch.

Sekai kissed the hollow of his throat. Then lower, to the centre of his chest, and Taiki gasped when Sekai’s mouth closed over his nipple.

The sensation was shocking—a sharp, sweet pull that went straight through him. Sekai licked, sucked gently, and Taiki’s back arched off the bed. A surprised moan slipped from his lips.

“Ah—Sekai…”

Sekai moved to the other side, giving it the same attention, and Taiki’s hands found his hair, holding on. The wet heat of Sekai’s mouth, the flick of his tongue—it was nothing like he had imagined.

Sekai trailed kisses down his stomach, each touch felt like fire. Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Taiki’s lace underwear and peeled it away, leaving Taiki naked bare.

Taiki’s breath hitched. He covered his face with his hands.

Sekai’s chuckle was warm. “Don’t hide.”

He nudged Taiki’s hands away, then Taiki watched as Sekai stood long enough to remove his own nightshirt and trousers. The moonlight fell across his body—broad shoulders, the hard planes of his chest and stomach, the powerful lines of his legs. And between them, his cock, thick and full.

Taiki’s mouth went dry.

“You’re staring,” Sekai said, a hint of teasing in his voice as he climbed back onto the bed.

“I am not.”

“You are. It’s all right.”

“It’s not.”

Sekai leaned over him, caging him with his arms. “You’re beautiful. Every part of you.”

He kissed him again, deep and claiming, and Taiki wrapped his arms around Sekai’s neck, pulling him closer. Their bodies touched, skin to skin, and Taiki trembled with the sheer unfamiliarity of it.

Then Sekai moved lower.

He settled between Taiki’s legs, his hands spreading them gently, and Taiki’s heart hammered against his ribs.

“Wha—what are you—”

Sekai didn’t answer. He bent his head and Taiki felt the first brush of his tongue against the slick heat between his legs.

Taiki cried out, hands flying to the sheets again.

It was—wet, so wet, he hadn’t realised how wet he was, the natural slickness that Omega biology provided for this. Sekai licked him slowly as his other hand stroking his small omegan cock.

Taiki whimpered, his thighs shaking.

“Oh—ah—Sekai—”

Sekai’s mouth was relentless. He juggled between kissing, licking and sucking at his hole until Taiki felt like he was coming undone. Which he did, moments later—cum spluttered from his cock, dirtying Sekai's hand.

"Ah..." Taiki moaned, the sound high and helpless. Sekai hummed against him, the vibration sending a jolt straight to his core.

“So sweet,” Sekai murmured, still dipping his tongue inside. Taiki’s back arched sharply, his hips lifting off the bed.

When Sekai finally pulled back, Taiki made a sound of protest. Sekai kissed his inner thigh, then moved over him again, his fingers slick with Taiki’s own moisture.

“Now,” Sekai said, his voice rough.

He pressed one finger against Taiki’s wet entrance and pushed in slow. Taiki gasped, his eyes wide.

It didn’t hurt. It was unfamiliar, but Sekai’s movements were patient, circling inside him until Taiki relaxed around him.

“Good,” Sekai praised him, kissing his collarbone. “So good for me, omega.”

He added a second finger, stretching him carefully, and Taiki’s breath stuttered. By the third, he was panting, his body shaking with the intensity of the feeling.

“Please,” he begged, not knowing what he was begging for.

Sekai withdrew his fingers, and Taiki whined at the loss.

He watched as Sekai knelt between his legs, his own cock heavy and leaking against his stomach.

Taiki swallowed.

Sekai leaned over him. “May I continue?”

Taiki nodded, his throat tight.

Sekai aligned himself and pressed forward.

The stretch was different this time. It was way fuller and deeper. Taiki gasped, his fingers digging into Sekai’s shoulders, as Sekai pushed inside him inch by inch until he was buried completely.

Sekai groaned, dropping his forehead against Taiki’s. He was trembling.

He stayed still for few moments, kissing Taiki’s face and mouth.

“All right?”

Taiki breathed out, nodded. “Yes.”

Sekai began to moved his hips in slow rolls, and Taiki moaned. Each thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through him, building a pressure low in his belly.

As the night went, Sekai’s pace gradually quickened. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound rivaled Taiki's cry of pleasure.

Sekai kissed Taiki’s face as he drove deeper into him.

“You feel—so—so good,” Sekai gritted out between thrusts, his hands gripping Taiki’s hips. “So tight around me, Taiki—”

Taiki wrapped his legs around Sekai’s waist unconsciously, clinging to him. “Alpha—ah—yes—”

Sekai kissed his neck, his lips hot against the sensitive skin there.

“Mine,” he breathed, and then his teeth sank into Taiki’s scent gland.

Pain and pleasure collided, a sharp shock tore a scream from Taiki’s throat. His body convulsed, clenching around Sekai as he came hard and untouched, his release spilling between them.

Sekai growled against his neck, the sound vibrating through Taiki’s bones.

“Bite me, Taiki,” he rasped.

Taiki gathered every last bit of his strength, turned his head, and bit down on Sekai’s gland.

The taste of lemon immediately bursted over his tongue. And then their scents—honey and lemon—blended together in the air, now inseparable.

Sekai groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic and desperate.

Sekai kissed him deep and messy, as his rhythm faltered completely. He thrusted twice more, and then Taiki felt the knot swell, locking them together, as Sekai came with a guttural cry.

They lay still, panting, the knot holding them joined.

Sekai kissed Taiki’s neck again, tender now over the new mark. “How do you feel?”

Taiki turned his face into Sekai’s shoulder. “Good. It was…really good.”

Sekai laughed softly. “For me too.”

He brushed Taiki’s damp hair back from his forehead. “Now you’re mine and I am yours. Forever.”

Taiki whimpered, a sound of pure contentment, and nuzzled against him.

After, when the knot had subsided and they had cleaned up, they fell back into the bed again. Sekai gathered Taiki against his side, their legs tangled under the sheets. He stared up at the canopy, Taiki’s head pillowed on his shoulder.

“When I’m in rut, it will be like this. But rougher.” Sekai said quietly.

Taiki lifted his head and blinked. “Mm. Interesting.”

Sekai blinked back. “You’re supposed to be scared.”

“I’m supposed to be scared of you?” Taiki’s voice was soft and amused. “After you just spent the last hour being so gentle you checked on me three times?”

“Ruts are different.”

“So you keep saying. But I think I will like the rougher version, too.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” Taiki retorted, yawning against Sekai’s skin. “I’ll be the judge of that when it happens. Until then, you are just trying to worry me, and it won’t work.”

Sekai stared at him for a long moment, then huffed out a laugh. He kissed the top of Taiki’s head. “You are impossible.”

“You married me. You are stuck with impossible.”

Sekai held him tighter, listened to his breathing even out.

Taiki stirred awake. He found himself wrapped tightly in Sekai’s arms. His face was pressed against Sekai’s bare chest, skin warm beneath his cheek. The blanket was tangled around their waists, leaving their torsos exposed.

He tipped his head back and found Sekai already looking at him.

"Hello, wife," Sekai murmured, voice still rough with sleep.

A flush spread across Taiki’s cheeks. “Hello, husband.”

Sekai’s hand lifted, brushed lightly over the fresh bond mark on Taiki’s neck. It was tender, the skin still raised and reddened from Sekai’s teeth.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Taiki whispered. His own fingers came up to trace the matching mark on Sekai’s neck. “Does yours?”

“It stings. In a good way.”

Sekai’s thumb stroked over Taiki’s mark again. “Are you…sore anywhere else?”

Taiki’s blush deepened. He cleared his throat. “A little. But it’s fine. It was… It was good. After everything. It felt…good.”

Sekai’s mouth quirked. “Good?”

“Yes, good.”

“Just good?”

“Very good.” Taiki’s hand slid over Sekai’s chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his palm. “You?”

Sekai’s breath caught. “Beyond good.”

Taiki grinned, pleased. “Go on. I can take the compliment.”

“You take compliments like you take everything else,” Sekai said, leaning in to brush his nose against Taiki’s. “As if you deserve them by right.”

“I do deserve them. You married the Diamond of the Season. You are lucky.”

Sekai laughed warmly. “Terribly lucky.” He kissed Taiki then, and Taiki sighed against his lips, melted into him.

When they pulled apart, Taiki traced Sekai’s bond mark again. “Your scent is different now.”

“Mixed with yours.”

“I like it.” Taiki leaned in, pressed his nose to Sekai’s neck, inhaled. “Lemon and honey. Like tea.”

Sekai’s hand slid down Taiki’s back, squeezing the curve of his ass. “And yours smells like sunshine on honeycomb.”

Taiki jolted, a shiver running through him. “Flatterer.”

“Truth-teller.” Sekai rolled onto his back, taking Taiki with him so Taiki was draped across his chest. “I want to hear you say it again.”

“Say what?”

“That it was good.”

Taiki propped himself up on his elbows, looked down at Sekai’s face. “It was good.”

“Louder.”

“It was good.”

“Once more, for the servants.”

Taiki swatted his shoulder. “You are ridiculous.”

“And you are a brat,” Sekai said, rolling them again until Taiki was pinned beneath him.

Taiki grinned up at him, all challenge in his eyes. “Always will be. What are you going to do about it?”

Sekai’s expression turned dark. A low growl vibrated in his chest.

Taiki’s smile widened as Sekai lunged.

It was a playful wrestle at first—Taiki squirming, laughing as Sekai pinned his wrists to the mattress. But then Sekai leaned down and licked a stripe up Taiki’s throat, and Taiki’s laughter broke into a gasp.

“Alpha—”

Sekai caught his mouth in a kiss.

Taiki whimpered, his body responding instantly, slick gathering between his legs. “Sekai—”

Sekai kissed him hard, before moving down to his throat, his collarbone, and his chest. He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.

“Ah—!”

Taiki’s back arched off the bed. His fingers tangled in Sekai’s hair, holding him there as Sekai laved and bit at his nipple, then moved to the other.

“Nnh…Sekai, please—”

“Please what?” Sekai lifted his head, his eyes dark.

“Inside,” Taiki whispered, his face burning with the word. “Please.”

Sekai didn’t hesitate. He positioned himself at Taiki’s entrance, slick and open from the night before, and pushed in with one smooth thrust.

They both groaned at the same time.

Taiki’s legs wrapped around Sekai’s waist, heels digging into his back. “Mm… so full…”

Sekai kissed him, swallowing his whimpers as he began to move. Slow, deep strokes that made Taiki see stars.

“That’s it, darling,” Sekai breathed against his mouth. “Take me.”

Each thrust was a pleasure. Sekai kissed everywhere, murmuring praises against his skin. “So beautiful. Mine. My omega.”

Taiki’s hands clung to Sekai’s shoulders, nails scratching his back. His moans grew higher as pleasure coiled in his belly.

Sekai’s pace increased. The bed rocked beneath them, the headboard knocking against the wall.

“Close,” Taiki sobbed. “I’m close—”

Sekai captured his mouth again, swallowing his cries as he drove into him. He reached between them, wrapped a hand around Taiki’s cock, stroked him in time with his thrusts.

The sensation was too much.

Taiki came with a sharp cry, his body convulsing, clenching around Sekai as his release spattered between them.

Sekai groaned, buried his face in Taiki’s neck. His thrusts turned rough, and Taiki felt the knot begin to swell.

“Ah—Taiki—”

And then the knot locked, filling Taiki completely as Sekai came with a low roar.

Sekai kissed Taiki’s sweaty forehead. “Good morning.”

Taiki laughed weakly beneath him. “A very good morning indeed.”

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Leiya knocked twice before entering, Yusei at his heels, both carrying steaming pitchers and towels folded over their arms.

"The hot water is ready, Master Sekai," Leiya announced, setting the pitcher down. "And there's fresh soap. The lavender one, Lady Yamamoto's preference."

Taiki buried to his chin in the sheets.

Sekai sat up without embarrassment and stretched both arms above his head. "Good."

Yusei kept her eyes trained on a spot above the headboard. She set her towels on the chair, collected Taiki's discarded night rail from the floor, and draped it neatly over her arm.

The bathing room adjoined the bedchamber, separated by a wide oak door. The copper tub sat deep and long before the window. Leiya and Yusei moved around each other, laying out soaps and oils, draping warming towels on the rack beside the fire.

Sekai stood and offered his hand to Taiki. Taiki took it, pulling the sheet around himself first before Sekai tugged it free. Taiki made a sound of protest.

"You are my wife," Sekai said simply.

Taiki pressed his lips together and let the sheet fall.

Leiya and Yusei washed their masters efficiently. Leiya running the brush across Sekai's shoulders, Yusei working a lather through Taiki's hair—and then helped them both settle into the deep water. Taiki sank in first, and Sekai followed, pulling Taiki back against his chest so Taiki sat between his knees.

The water lapped high against the copper rim.

Taiki exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping. The ache in his body eased itself into the heat.

"Better?" Sekai asked.

"Much."

Leiya and Yusei moved quietly around the edges of the room, refolding towels that did not need refolding.

Sekai pressed his lips to the side of Taiki's neck, just below his bond mark. "You're still pink."

"It's the hot water."

"Is it?"

Taiki felt Sekai smile against his skin. Then Sekai's hands began to wander, tracing up Taiki's chest and back down again.

"Sekai." Taiki warned.

"Hmm?"

"The servants are in the room."

Sekai's fingers skimmed over Taiki's stomach. "They work for us. They've seen worse."

"They have not seen worse—" Taiki caught Sekai's wrist under the water and held it still. "Stop."

Sekai pressed another kiss to his neck, dragging his lips over the bite mark there. Taiki's grip loosened involuntarily.

"You were much more cooperative thirty minutes ago," Sekai murmured.

Taiki's face went scarlet. "That was—that was different, we were—" He lowered his voice further. "We were alone."

"Leiya, did you hear our conversation?"

Leiya cleared his throat from across the room. "I hear absolutely nothing." He raised both hands and pressed them flat against his ears. Yusei turned to face the window.

Taiki groaned.

Sekai laughed, pressed his smile to Taiki's temple. "You see. The servants are accommodating."

"I will drown you," Taiki whispered.

"You would miss me." Sekai laughed, warm against his ear.

Then, before Taiki could object, he added, "Leiya. Yusei. You can go. We'll call when we're finished."

Leiya and Yusei immediately bowed, collected their things, and were out the door in lightning speed. The door clicked shut behind them.

Silence settled, broken only by the slosh of water.

Taiki twisted around until he faced Sekai, settling onto his lap with his knees bracketing Sekai's hips. The water shifted dangerously close to the tub's edge.

"You are deeply shameless."

Sekai looked up at him, perfectly unrepentant. "Says the man currently sitting on me."

"I turned around to argue with you properly."

"Mm." Sekai's hands rose and settled on Taiki's hips. "Argue away."

Taiki opened his mouth as Sekai kneaded both thumbs across his hipbones.

Taiki's argument evaporated.

"That's not fair," Taiki said, after a moment.

"I'm not trying to be fair." Sekai's gaze dropped, then came back up. The steam had dampened his hair, water beaded along his sharp jaw. He looked ruinous.

Taiki's pulse stuttered. He reached up and gripped Sekai's jaw with one wet hand, tilting his face up. "I'll show you fair."

He kissed him.

Sekai's hands tightened on his hips instantly, pulling him closer. Taiki shifted his knees, closing the distance between them until his chest was flush against Sekai's. The heat of the water and the heat of Sekai's skin blurred together.

Sekai kissed back slowly at first, careful—but Taiki bit his lower lip, and careful disappeared. Sekai groaned into his mouth and deepened the kiss, one hand sliding from Taiki's hip down to squeeze the full curve of his backside. Hard.

Taiki gasped against his lips.

Sekai did it again, kneading him deliberately, and Taiki's fingers curled in his damp hair and pulled.

"Nnh—" Sekai's head tilted back. His grip on Taiki's ass tightened.

"You like that," Taiki breathed.

"I like everything you do," Sekai said in rough voice. He pulled him into another kiss, his tongue sliding against Taiki's, his hand still working the curve of his ass as if learning it by memory.

Taiki felt him hardening beneath the water.

"Sekai—"

"I know." Sekai kissed his throat and his bond mark. "Tell me to stop."

Taiki's hips rolled forward of their own accord.

Sekai reached between them, positioned himself, and Taiki sank down slowly. The water helped him, every movement softened yet amplified.

"Ah—" Taiki moaned. His hands found Sekai's shoulders and gripped. "Oh—"

"Good?" Sekai's voice was strained.

"Good. Very—mm—"

He began to move.

The rhythm started slow, water lapping against the copper sides. Sekai kept both hands at Taiki's waist, guiding rather than controlling, watching Taiki's face openly.

Then Taiki heard it—a murmur of voices from the corridor just beyond the door. Leiya and Yusei, waiting.

He bit his lip hard.

Sekai noticed. Of course he noticed.

"They can't hear a thing," Sekai said, too calmly for a man currently inside him.

"You don't know that."

"The walls are thick." Sekai thrust upward sharply.

"Ah—" The sound escaped before Taiki could catch it.

Sekai smiled, predatory and fond in his eyes.

"Sekai, don't you dare—"

Another hard thrust, making Taiki clapped a hand over his own mouth. Sekai pulled the hand away.

"Let me hear you," he said softly, as he moved relentlessly.

"The servants—"

"Are very well paid." He angled his hips and found the place that made Taiki's thoughts scatter.

"Nnh—ah—Sekai—"

There was nothing to be done after that. The pleasure climbed too fast, with the heat of the bath and Sekai's hands. His mouth returned to the bond mark on Taiki's neck. Taiki moved above him, water sheeting over the tub's rim and soaking the floor entirely.

"Close," Taiki moaned. "Close—"

Sekai gripped his hips and drove up into him, and Taiki came apart untouched with a broken cry that the thick walls may or may not have contained.

He shuddered through it, clenching around Sekai, who groaned low against his throat and thrust twice more before the knot swelled and locked, his release flooding deep as he growled Taiki's name into his neck.

They sat still, breathing the steam. Water dripped steadily off the side of the tub.

"The floor," Taiki managed eventually.

"Leiya will mop it."

Taiki laughed, exhausted as his face dropping to Sekai's shoulder. Sekai wrapped his arms around him, knot still full holding inside.

"They definitely heard that," Taiki sighed.

Sekai kissed his cheek. "They will get used to it," he said warmly.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Yusei worked the comb through Taiki's damp hair, drawing it section by section from root to tip. The sun shone through the window, catching the glints of Taiki's brown hair and the soft flush that had not quite left his cheeks since the bath.

Taiki sat before the vanity mirror, watching Yusei's reflection. She worked in silence—which was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the teasing smile.

Taiki's eyes narrowed.

"Yusei."

"Yes?"

"Stop it."

"I haven't done anything, Master Taiki."

"You're smiling."

"Smiling is not doing anything." She drew the comb through a tangle. "I often smile."

"Not like that."

She met his eyes in the mirror. The smile widened.

Taiki looked away first, cheeks blooming red. "You're insufferable."

"I'm combing your hair."

"You're combing my hair smugly."

"I didn't know combing could be done smugly." She set the comb down and reached for the small ceramic pot of rose and almond oil—a blend she had prepared herself for years, pressed into Taiki's skin after every bath to soften and protect. She worked it gently across his face.

"Hold still."

Taiki held still. He watched her hands in the mirror in silence—and then he caught the corner of her mouth again.

"Yusei—"

"The walls... are not as thick as Lord Yamamoto believes," she said pleasantly.

Taiki turned so red the rose oil on his cheeks seemed redundant. He dropped his face into his hands.

"I want to dissolve," he said, muffled.

"That would make dressing you very difficult."

"I hate you."

"You don't."

He groaned into his palms and stayed there for a moment before surfacing again.

Fortunately, Yusei said nothing more and continued her work. By the time she moved to help him dress, the flush had faded slightly.

She held his shirt open for him. He stepped into it and let her button, just like a hundred mornings before this one. She smoothed the fabric across his shoulders and moved to the bustle layers, fastening each frill in turn.

"So, how was it?" Yusei asked, but in serious tone this time.

He concentrated on the wallpaper. "... Fine."

"Truly?"

"... Very good."

Yusei waited.

"He was gentle and careful." Taiki exhaled. "It was... good. Truly good."

Yusei fastened the final button at his collar and smoothed it flat with her palm. He was fully dressed and presentable—the new Lady Yamamoto, standing before a mirror.

She stepped to his side and wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin against his shoulder as they looked at each other's reflection together.

"Yusei," Taiki said, softer now. His smile flickered and then dimmed. "I'm so happy. I truly am. But I keep thinking—what if I don't deserve it? What if it doesn't last?"

Yusei was quiet for a moment.

"I have known you since you were fourteen years old, and already lecturing the cook about inefficient vegetable storage."

Taiki let out a small, wet laugh.

"I know how hard you love. I know how carefully you carry people." Her arms tightened around him. "You deserve this. Every piece of it."

Taiki's hand came up and covered hers where it rested on his shoulder.

"I'm happy for you, Master Taiki. And I wish this happiness lasts. Whatever happens, I'll be beside you."

"Thank you, Yusei."

She squeezed his hands for a moment, before the teasing smile was back.

"I do beg your pardon. I should be saying Lady Yamamoto now, shouldn't I?"

Taiki spun around immediately. "No."

Yusei stepped back, laughing.

"Only you!" Taiki said, pointing, face red again. "Only you call me like usual! Everyone else—fine—but not you—"

"Of course, of course." She pressed her smile behind her fingers. "Master Taiki."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The days at the estate moved at a slow and peaceful pace. Neither man dressed until the sun climbed, and breakfast arrived cold because no one had remembered to ring for it. Entire afternoons would sometimes vanished into full conversation or silence.

Taiki learned the estate the way he learned everything—methodically, with questions. He mapped the rooms, the garden, discovered which windows caught the best morning light, and which flagstones by the kitchen corridor were damp.

He also learned Sekai's rhythms. The way Sekai woke before dawn and lay still rather than rising, the way he took his tea too hot and his books too seriously. And the way his hand always, always found Taiki's.

Sekai, in turn, learned that Taiki hummed while he read and didn't know he did it. Taiki's opinions about everything were absolute until presented with a interesting counter-argument, at which point they became negotiable. He discovered Taiki was most himself in the hour after supper when the candles were low and there was nowhere to be.

The balcony off their bedroom faced east, stone-railed decorated with climbing jasmine flowers. Taiki stood there in the early morning with tea and a blanket thrown over his shoulders, watching the sun rising slowly.

He had not expected Sekai to appear at his shoulder.

"You're awake," Taiki greeted.

"You left."

"I left the bed. I didn't leave the country."

Sekai took the tea from his hand and drank before returning it.

"That was mine," Taiki said flatly.

"Mm."

"You're insufferable before sunrise."

"I'm the same at all hours. You're only now paying attention."

Taiki turned to argue, but found Sekai already very close, and the argument evaporated. The dawn light was flattering on Sekai's face, and the jasmine smelled extraordinary.

Sekai's hands found the blanket over Taiki's shoulders and tugged him forward.

"Sekai," Taiki warned.

"Yes, darling."

"We—the servants—"

"Won't be up for another hour."

Taiki allowed himself to be reeled in. The tea placed on the railing, the blanket fell from one shoulder as Sekai's mouth met his lips, his jaw, and below his ear where the bond mark had settled—faintly raised and permanent now, part of his skin. Taiki exhaled through his teeth.

"Lord Sekai," he breathed, which he only used now when he was flustered. "The railing—"

"I've got you."

He did. He turned Taiki, arm crossed his waist and braced solid, and Taiki stopped worrying about the railing. He gripped Sekai's forearm and pressed back against his chest as Sekai pushed his night rail up. The stone cold against the rail where Taiki gripped it, the morning air sharp across bare skin until Sekai's warmth replaced it.

"Ah—" The sound escaped before he could stop it. Below them, the lawn sat empty and dewed. "Sekai—nnh—"

"Quiet."

"You be quiet—"

He wasn't. Neither was Taiki.

Later that noon, the music room became a catastrophe.

It began with Taiki at the pianoforte, playing something simple while Sekai read in the armchair by the window, which was a pleasantly domestic arrangement until Sekai set down his book and sat on the bench beside Taiki.

"You're hovering," Taiki said, still playing.

"I'm sitting."

"The way you're seated qualifies as hovering."

Sekai reached past him and pressed a single key—which created a mild harmonic discord.

Taiki stopped and looked at him flatly. "What was that."

"A contribution."

"That was not a contribution—"

Sekai kissed the side of his jaw, and Taiki's hands stilled on the keys.

The afternoon light came through the tall windows as Sekai kissed him again, his hand at the back of Taiki's neck. He stripped Taiki's garments in record time—he was getting better and faster each day—and shifted, making Taiki's lower back pressing the piano keys, creating dissonant sounds.

"Ah—nnh— Sekai, the piano—"

"Stop looking at the piano," Sekai said calmly as if he wasn't thrusting his fingers inside his wife.

"It's narrow—"

"Then don't look down."

Taiki looked up instead, at the painted ceiling, the chandelier's cold crystals, and Sekai's face above him—eyes full of love and lust. He put his hands around Sekai's neck tightly as Sekai's hard cock started pushing.

"—Sekai—"

"I've got you."

"You keep—ah— saying that—"

"Because I do."

Taiki's fingers curled into his hair. "Nnh—yes—"

Mrs. Haima, arriving to enquire whether they would take afternoon tea in the music room or the garden, paused at the door, heard something, and turned on her heel. She returned downstairs to inform the kitchen that they would not, in fact, be taking tea until further notice.

The library had a chaise longue that Taiki had suspected it was strategically placed.

He was attempting to read a botanical classification text he had requested from the collection when Sekai came in, dropped onto the chaise beside him, and began reading over his shoulder.

"You're breathing on my page," Taiki huffed.

"I'm interested in Boraginaceae."

"You are not interested in Boraginaceae."

"I have broad interests."

Taiki turned and found Sekai's face approximately four inches from his own, which was not a reading distance. His book slid closed on its own.

"Lord Sekai," he said, one final diplomatic appeal.

Sekai smiled teasingly as his hand spread flat against his waist.

The chaise longue was, as Taiki had correctly assessed, strategically placed—behind the shelves, beneath the high clerestory windows that let the light in without exposing the room to the garden. It was specifically private. Almost, Taiki thought, as though someone had arranged it.

"You planned this," he breathwd heavily.

"I don't know what you mean."

"The chaise—"

"Has been in this library for thirty years."

"And you put it right here—"

Sekai kissed him as an effective way to shut Taiki up. The botanical text fell to the floor, and Taiki allowed himself to be tipped back against the cushions, Sekai bracing above him on one arm, the other hand pulling down his pants as well as the bustle skirt.

"Ah—" Taiki's whimper felt louder in the silent library. He pressed his fist against his mouth.

Sekai moved it. "Mmm. Don't."

"But the servants—"

"Are employed."

"Sekai—ahh—that's not—"

"Stop talking—mmh—about the servants, my darling—"

Taiki stopped talking about the servants.

He said other things instead—Sekai's name, repeated yes, and there—all of it absorbed by the shelves and the books.

And if Leiya passed the door in the corridor and changed course immediately, then he was a very professional valet and deserved a wage increase.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

On the seventh day of clear weather, Sekai found Taiki in the entrance hall already wearing his walking coat, hat in hand.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a lake," Taiki said, as though this were both explanation and permission.

"I know there's a lake. It's my estate."

"I want to see it."

Sekai retrieved his own coat from the hook. "I'll take you."

The path to the lake went through the lower gardens, past the kitchen herb beds and the ornamental wall, out through a wooden gate, and then down a grassed slope. Sekai had his hands in his coat pockets. Taiki had his hat in his hand and kept not putting it on.

"You'll burn," Sekai observed.

"It's not that bright."

"It's July."

"I have pale skin, not translucent skin."

"Debatable."

Taiki eventually planted his hat firmly on his own head and didn't look at Sekai. The grass was long enough to brush against his ankles, and the lake appeared around—wide and still, with a line of willows along the far bank trailing into their own reflections.

"Oh," Taiki said quietly.

Sekai watched him look at it.

"It's beautiful," Taiki said.

"Yes."

Taiki cut him a suspicious glance. "You knew I'd like it."

"I know you like water and solitude. And things that don't require you to be agreeable to anyone."

"I'm perfectly agreeable."

"You told three alphas at the Belmont ball that their interpretation of omega property rights was 'both legally incorrect and philosophically embarrassing.'"

"They were—"

"You said it loudly. I was afraid they would do something to you."

"But I was correct—"

Sekai was smiling, which made Taiki stopped. He decided that continuing the argument feel like a waste of a perfectly good lake view. He huffed instead and turned back to the water.

They spread the cloth on the bank—courtesy of Yusei—and settled side by side. Sekai removed his coat and draped it over the grass. Taiki took his hat off again and set it beside him.

The lake was absolutely still. Somewhere in the willows, two ducks walked together.

"What do you want to do after this? I'm not talking about our marriage. Just—what do you want."

Taiki thought for a while. "I want to write something about omega property rights. A pamphlet, perhaps, or a longer paper. Something that could be read at committee level." He plucked a grass and turned it in his fingers. "Also, I want a horse I can actually ride without your supervision."

"Meguro literally threw you."

"Meguro shifted. There is a difference."

"You yelped."

"I expressed concern—"

Sekai's laughter came easily now, which still occasionally surprised Taiki.

"What about you?" Taiki asked back.

Sekai was quiet a moment, staring at the lake. "Stay. I want to stay. I spent four years finding reasons to leave. I don't want reasons to leave anymore."

Taiki looked at him sideways.

Sekai turned at the same moment, and they were very close, which the lake view had encouraged.

"I also want to be by your side as you write your pamphlet." Sekai then smirked. "I will argue every point."

Taiki huffed a laugh. "Of course you will."

"To strengthen your argument."

"That's a generous framing of being insufferable—"

He kissed him easily. Taiki's hand came up and curved against the back of his neck, and then he was being pressed gently back against the cloth. The lake glittering at his peripheral vision, the willows rustling softly.

"Sekai," he murmured against his mouth.

"Mm."

"This is—ah—a public path—"

"There's no one for half a mile."

"That is not—nnh—that is not the point—"

Sekai's hands worked at him methodically. He pushed the bustle layers and pants aside, his thumbs pressing slow circles against the inside of Taiki's thighs until Taiki's arguments evaporated.

"—Sekai—"

"Yes, love."

Taiki exhaled through his teeth and stopped arguing. The afternoon sun was warm on their exposed skin. Sekai's hands moved, and Taiki let himself be held in the open air of lake.

"Ah—" His back arched on the cloth. "Alpha—yes—"

"Here?"

"Yes—nnh—there—"

The ducks in the willows walked away. The lake reflected the sky in silence. Taiki's fingers twisted in the fabric beneath him and his moans came in fragments, and Sekai answered it with undivided attention on his body, his mouth at Taiki's bond mark.

"—Sekai—I—ah—"

"So good for me, my dear omega—"

"Nnh—"

They climbed together in pleasure. Sekai exhaled roughly against Taiki's neck and held him through it. Taiki kept his fingers curled in his hair and didn't let go until they were both fully still.

The lake moved in gentle ripple.

They lay side by side on the cloth afterward, coats pulled back in order. Taiki's head against Sekai's chest, and Sekai's arm firm around his shoulder. The afternoon light had subsided into a darker one. Neither of them spoke for a while.

"You have my heart." Sekai quietly murmured.

Taiki leaned up and kissed him slowly. He pulled back by an inch.

"And you have mine," Taiki answered. "In case that was unclear."

"It's becoming clearer."

"Don't ruin it."

Sekai's mouth curved. Taiki kissed him again anyway.

The month at the estate was spent in warmth.

They went to the lake more times than was reasonable. Taiki loved it so much. The willows swayed in rhytm in the late afternoon, the way the light glittered on the water at noon, the family of ducks that had given up relocating and simply regarded them as another occupant. Sekai brought the cloth, always, and Taiki brought a book he rarely read because Sekai made consistent reading impossible.

They explored the surrounding land on foot and on horseback—narrow country lanes where the hedgerows pressed close, a village market where an old woman pressed dried lavender bunches into Taiki's hands and refused payment because, she said, he had a pretty face. Taiki had bought six more bundles out of gratitude and carried them home bundled against his chest while Sekai walked beside him, amused and saying nothing.

There was a local midsummer festival in the village square—lanterns between buildings, fiddle music, a sugar confectioner who sculpted animals while Taiki watched with his doe-eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Sekai had steered him into a dark alley between two stalls and kissed him against the stone wall while the music played.

Taiki had complained. He always complained.

But he never refused.

There was the hayloft, which Sekai had suggested with a neutral expression while they were returning Meguro to the stable after a morning ride. There was the storage room at the far edge of the garden where the ivy had grown thick over the stone doorway and muffled everything. There was the linen cupboard, which had been Sekai's unprecedented suggestion and Taiki's most objection—

"This is undignified—"

"Close the door—"

"There are shelves—"

"Taiki—"

"—pressing into my—"

"I'll have them removed."

"That is not the point—"

Taiki closed the door.

The estate learned their sounds and kept them. The walls, as Yusei had noted from the beginning, were not as thick as Sekai believed, and Mrs. Haima had taken to sending the younger maids to the far wing on certain evenings.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The morning felt lazy on the last day. The room still smelled of them—honey and lemon threaded together, the mixed scent of a bonded pair that Taiki was still learning to identify as his.

Sekai lay on his back, one arm curved around Taiki's waist, his chest rising and falling. Taiki lay against him, equally unclothed from the night before, and traced invisible lines across Sekai's chest with one finger.

"We have to leave today," Taiki said.

"Mm."

Taiki pressed his finger against the faint scar. "Your father's already waiting with a month of correspondence, isn't he."

Sekai exhaled through his nose. "Land management reports. Two tenancy agreements. The wool merchant in Cheapside who apparently requires my signature personally and no one else's."

"Don't be too busy."

"I'll endeavour to eat and sleep between the tenancy agreements."

"That's not what I meant." Taiki tilted his chin up to look at him. "I mean it. Don't disappear into it."

Sekai looked back down at him. "I won't."

"You have a history of disappearing."

"I have a history of disappearing when I had nothing keeping me." His hand pressed warmer against Taiki's waist. "The situation has changed."

"Has it?" Taiki said flatly, though the corner of his mouth had already moved.

"Considerably. I find myself in possession of an opinionated, argumentative wife who would make the wool merchant's life worse than mine if I failed to come home at a reasonable hour."

"That is the most accurate thing you've said this month."

"Then take it as my solemn promise."

Taiki studied him for a moment. "You're unbearable," he finally said.

"You keep kissing me anyway."

"A persistent error in my judgment—"

Sekai pulled him up and kissed him. Taiki made a sound of muffled protest that dissolved immediately, his hand coming up to curve against the side of Sekai's face, his argument forgotten. Sekai's arm tightened around him, and for a while the morning continued in silence.

When Taiki finally drew back, his hair was way more messy than before.

"We'll be late," he said, somewhat breathlessly.

"We're the one owning the schedule."

"Leiya and Yusei have been awake since dawn."

"They're following schedules."

Taiki pressed his palm flat against Sekai's chest and pushed. "Get up."

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

By mid-morning, Leiya and Yusei moved between the house and the carriage, the luggage stacking beside the door. The household had assembled on the front steps.

Sekai and Taiki came down the steps together. Sekai inclined his head to Mrs. Haima first.

"You've kept the house excellently. My gratitude, Mrs. Haima, and to all of you."

Mrs. Haima bowed. "It is the honour of this household to serve the Yamamoto family, Lord Yamamoto. We shall continue to do so."

The other servants bowed behind her.

Taiki stepped forward. "Thank you for everything."

"My pleasure, Lady Yamamoto. We wish you both great happiness, wellness, and—" a brief pause, her mouth curving upward, "—continued enthusiasm for the lake."

Sekai laughed.

Taiki turned scarlet from his jaw to the tips of his ears. "The—The lake," he repeated.

"The grounds are very beautiful this time of year," Mrs. Haima agreed, her expression neutral. "We kept the cloth freshly laundered."

"Thank you," Taiki said in a strangled voice, and turned to walk to the carriage at a slightly faster pace.

The carriage rolled down the estate lane, the house retreating through the rear window until the elm trees swallowed it entirely. Taiki sat stiffly, his colour still not fully returned to normal.

"The cloth," he said.

"She meant it kindly."

"She laundered it. Freshly. She said freshly—"

"Evidence of excellent housekeeping."

"I cannot return to that estate."

"You loved that estate. You cried a little at the lake on Tuesday."

"I did not cry, it was—the light was—" Taiki pressed his knuckles briefly against his mouth. "You are the most irritating man in England."

"Scotland, at minimum."

"Do not flatter yourself."

"The Continent."

"Sekai—"

Sekai reached over and covered Taiki's hand on the seat between them. Taiki turned his hand over and held it.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The carriage rolled on, the road to London stretching ahead.

Taiki watched the countryside pass. He had his hand still loosely in Sekai's, his head tilted slightly toward the window. A pleasant contentment had settled over him. He had not expected to feel this way about leaving. He had expected relief, or anticipation. The weight of something fulfilled was newer.

He almost missed it.

Sekai had been still beside him, and then he wasn't—a tiny restlessness, a shift of the shoulder, hands that moved from the seat to his own knee and back. Taiki didn't remark on it. Men fidgeted. He let another minute pass.

The shift happened again. And again.

Taiki turned his head.

Sekai was looking at the opposite window. His jaw clenched. The hand on his knee had pressed flat and hard, trying to control something. A small line of sweat traced down his temple.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Taiki watched him. "You've moved four times in as many minutes."

"The road is uneven."

"The road is perfectly even. We've been on the Canterbury Road for an hour."

Sekai turned from the window to give Taiki a small smile. "I'm fine."

Taiki looked at the sweat at his temple, the red colour in his cheeks. The speed of his breathing was not right.

He reached up and pressed his palm to Sekai's forehead.

He snatched his hand back on instinct, the temperature was too hot it was shocking.

"Sekai?"

"It's nothing—"

"Your skin is—" Taiki pressed his hand there again. It was like an oven that had been running. "You're burning."

"I said I'm fine."

"You are not fine. You are burning!"

Taiki studied his face and he remembered something. He lowered his voice.

"Is this a rut?"

Sekai closed his eyes.

"Is it an early—"

"It may be. I didn't anticipate the timing. I thought—" He stopped and let out a short breath. "It doesn't matter."

As if to end the conversation, Sekai's body simply gave up whatever it had been doing. His head dropped sideways onto Taiki's shoulder.

Taiki went still for one second, then he knocked on the carriage wall rapidly.

The vehicle lurched and drew to a halt on the roadside. Footsteps on the box, then on the step, and then Leiya pulled the door open. His smile appeared first, and died instantly when he looked inside.

"Lady Yamamoto? What's—" His eyes moved to Sekai's position against Taiki's shoulder. "Oh. Oh, no."

"Probably an early rut. Do not panic."

Leiya was already panicking. His hands had come up somewhere on his face. "Right. Right, yes. Alright—"

"We need to have a turnaround. Tell the driver to move fast and find us an inn. Whatever is nearest." Taiki's voice stayed flat and steady.

"Yes—yes, right away." Leiya pulled the door shut and his running footsteps. Above them, there was a rapid exchange between Leiya and the driver, the snap of reins, and the carriage lurched into motion again, faster than before.

Yusei's hand appeared briefly at the interior panel—the small connecting point between the cabin and the box seat—and she knocked once.

Taiki knocked back. It's okay. I have him.

The carriage picked up speed. Taiki resettled against the seat and let Sekai's weight come fully onto his chest—one arm coming around him, the other hand finding his hair. He combed through it slowly. The dark strands were damp at the temple.

Sekai's breathing was still too quick. He turned his face into Taiki's neck and inhaled against the bond mark at Taiki's scent gland.

He groaned weakly, and apparently that calmed something in him a bit.

Several minutes passed.

"You should go on with the servants when we reach the inn. Take the carriage on to London." Sekai said, voice muffled and rough against his neck.

Taiki's hand paused in his hair.

"I will manage it alone like usual. It will pass in a day or two—"

"No."

"Taiki—"

"No." Taiki said it decisively. "You are not finishing that sentence."

Sekai lifted his head. His eyes were glassy, the colour of his face uneven, but his eyes showed fear.

"Nothing good comes out of a rut. An early one, at that—there's no knowing how it—"

"I know the risks."

"My dear Taiki, listen. We can still be married and you are allowed not to accompany me during rut." Sekai's voice was shaky. "That is how we do this marriage. It's perfectly fine."

Taiki lowered his hand from Sekai's hair and cupped his face with both palms instead, tilting it up. Sekai's skin burned against his fingers.

"I accepted you, love. All of you, including the rut, the history and everything everyone else ran from. I did not make that choice without knowing what it meant."

"Taiki—"

"We talked about this." His thumbs pressed gently against the line of Sekai's cheekbones. "I told you then and I'm telling you now. If it becomes too much, I will run. But first I will try and you will listen. That was our agreement before marriage."

Taiki stared at Sekai's eyes. "Trust me."

Something in Sekai's expression cracked open. Underneath it was not the monster he'd warned Taiki about, but a man genuinely frightened of himself.

Taiki kissed him softly. Sekai's hands came up to his wrists.

When Taiki pulled back, Sekai looked at him for a long moment. Then he lowered his head back to Taiki's chest. He exhaled, the last of the resistance going out of him all at once.

Taiki pulled him closer and said nothing.

The inn Leiya found placed on the edge of a market town, unremarkable yet decent enough, with a courtyard wide enough for the carriage. The landlord asked no questions when Yusei stepped forward with coin already in hand.

Taiki watched from the courtyard entrance, one of Sekai's arms draped across his shoulders, Sekai's weight listing steadily into his side.

"Four rooms," Taiki said to Yusei, low enough that only she could hear. "One for us. The other three should be the rooms around it—whichever ones share walls or floor."

Yusei glanced at Sekai, then back at Taiki. She didn't ask why. "I'll sort it."

She disappeared inside with the landlord while Leiya hovered at Sekai's other side.

"He walked from the carriage. That's a good sign."

"It is," Taiki agreed, though Sekai's grip on his shoulder had not loosened once.

Yusei returned with a ring of keys and a nod toward the stairs. They went up.

The room was plain and clean—a wide bed, a work table, and an adjoining bathroom. Taiki steered Sekai directly to the bed and sat him down on the edge of it, and Sekai went without argument, which was its own kind of telling.

Yusei worked from the bag she'd pulled from the carriage luggage—laying out soap, clean linen, clothes for both of them across the next several days. Five days' worth, because that was the number Leiya had named, had confirmed from his years attending Sekai through the last ones before Taiki. She set a fresh basin on the washstand and filled it from the pitcher.

Leiya pulled on his coat. "There's a market lane I passed on the way in. Bread, dried food, water—enough for the full five days, I'll get them now before they start closing up."

"Thank you," Taiki said.

While Yusei arranged and Leiya's footsteps retreated down the stairs, Taiki eased Sekai back against the pillows. Sekai's eyes were half-open, his breathing measured but still too warm. He did not resist.

When Leiya returned twenty minutes later with a cloth-wrapped food and two full water jugs, Taiki had everything else already settled. He looked at his two attendants standing near the door and felt a sudden gratitude for both of them.

"There are rooms on the floor below. Yusei, take one. Leiya, take another. Stay in the inn and don't go far."

Neither of them moved immediately.

"Sekai and I spoke about this. If it becomes more than I can manage, I will pull the bell room, and go outside to ask for help. That's all I'm asking of you." He looked between them. "You don't need to stand guard outside this room."

Leiya nodded slowly, though his face still showed worry.

Yusei reached out and took Taiki's hand in both of hers firmly.

Taiki squeezed back. "I will be fine."

Her eyes searched his for a moment. Then she let go, gathered her things, and followed Leiya out.

The door clicked shut, and the room immediately went quiet.

Taiki turned.

Sekai had gone still against the pillows—fast asleep. His lips were parted. One hand had curled loosely at his side.

Taiki crossed to him and pressed the back of his hand to Sekai's forehead. Still burning.

He went to the washstand, soaked a cloth in the cool water, wrung it out, and returned. He folded it and laid it across Sekai's brow, and Sekai exhaled slowly without waking.

Taiki then set to work on the layers. The jacket first—he worked one arm free and then the other. Then the cravat and the waistcoat. He left Sekai in his shirt and trousers, loosening the collar.

He pulled the blanket up to his waist.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Sekai breathe, and waited for the rut to begin.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

Taiki had managed it for perhaps four hours. He’d soaked cloths and wrung them out, refreshing the one on Sekai’s brow every time it grew warm. He’d watched Sekai’s pulse flutter against his throat.

He was rinsing the latest cloth in the shallow washbasin of the room’s cramped adjoining bath closet when the air in the room changed. It felt like the moment before a storm breaks.

The cloth slipped from his hands into the water.

A hand clamped around his upper arm from behind. The grip was brutal, wrenching him around before he could gasp. His back met the wall, the wooden panel shaking. Sekai’s body pinned him there.

The eyes that met his were reddened, absent from any recognition. The composed Sekai was gone. What stared back was hunger distilled to pure predatory instinct.

Sekai’s mouth crashed onto his before Taiki could form his name. It was a claiming and fierce. Sekai’s tongue forced its way past his lips, sweeping through his mouth. Taiki’s hands came up to shove against his chest—an instinct of his own. The muscles there were unmoving.

Sekai broke the kiss long enough to snarl, a rough sound deep in his throat. His hands came up to frame Taiki’s face, thumbs digging into his cheekbones. It hurt. Taiki whimpered against his palm.

“Mine,” Sekai rasped. That was not his voice. Taiki had never heard such guttural voice.

“Sekai—”

His name became a muffled groan as Sekai kissed him again, biting at his lips until they tasted faintly of blood. One hand dropped from his face, tearing at Taiki’s clothes. The jacket of his day-suit ripped at the seam over his shoulder. Sekai didn’t seem to notice or care. His palm splayed against Taiki’s stomach, pressing hard enough to steal his air.

He pushed Taiki away from the wall only to spin him, face-first. Taiki’s hands came out to catch himself against the sink basin. The cool porcelain met his palms.

Sekai shoved his trousers down, rough hands pushing them past his thighs. Cool air hit his bare skin. Then hot skin against him—Sekai, cursing under his breath, fumbling with his own trousers, freeing himself.

Something thick and hot pressed against Taiki’s entrance. No preparation, no easing—just slickness he hadn’t realized was there, perhaps Sekai’s own desperation leaking through, or perhaps his omega body responding in spite of everything.

Sekai thrusted in one smooth motion.

Taiki cried out. His knuckles went white against the basin. The stretch was immediate, burning ache that tore through his spine. Sekai didn’t pause. He buried himself to the hilt, shoving Taiki forward until his cheek was pressed flat against the cold porcelain. The weight of Sekai’s chest covered his back, smelling of sweat and sharp lemon.

Sekai withdrew and rammed back in, hard, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the small room.

Taiki moaned. “Ah—“

Again. And again.

The rhythm was punishing. Sekai’s hips pistoned against him, each impact pushing Taiki into the basin. One hand snaked around his waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Taiki’s belly. The other hand went to his throat.

Sekai's fingers closed tight around Taiki's throat. Taiki choked. Taut pressure against his windpipe, enough to make him panicked and his head spin.

“Nnh—Sekai—” Taiki sobbed.

Sekai’s mouth found his neck. His teeth sank into the muscle just below the bond mark.

He fucked Taiki senseless. The angle shifted on each thrust, hitting some delicious spot that made Taiki arch despite the pain, a strangled groan punched from his lungs.

Sekai’s fingers tightened on his throat a fraction more. The pleasure coiled. He could feel Sekai swelling further inside him, knot forming.

“Mine,” Sekai groaned against his ear. Voice shattered and raw. “My omega. My—”

It was all he managed. He slammed in deep and locked. Taiki felt the knot swell and lock them together, brutally large. Sekai groaned, and warmth spilled into him, pulsing and seemed endless.

At the same time Taiki tipped over the edge untouched, spilling over Sekai’s hand on his stomach, his vision whiting out. He moaned brokenly against the sink. Sekai’s grip on his throat didn’t relent until the pulses stopped, and the knot began to slowly soften.

When Sekai slipped out of him, Taiki’s knees buckled. He slid down the front of the sink, his cheek resting against the cool porcelain ledge above the basin.

Sekai stepped back. He was breathing hard, eyes still wild, his body slick with sweat, his cock still thick and wet against his thigh.

He looked down at Taiki crumpled on the floor and blinked, as if seeing him for the first time. A low growl escaped him.

Taiki’s body screamed—bruises forming on his hip bones, the bite on his shoulder throbbing, his throat tender. Between his legs ached, sore and used. He lifted a hand, his own fingers trembling.

“Sekai...”

His voice was wrecked.

Sekai stared at him, his nostrils flaring. The red in his eyes had not dimmed. He took a step forward, knelt down, and scooped Taiki off the floor. He carried him back into the bedroom, dropped him onto the bed.

Taiki barely had time to roll onto his back before Sekai was on him again, mouth crushing his, teeth catching his lower lip. He tore what remained of Taiki’s shirt open, his hands closing around Taiki’s nipples, pinching and twisting until Taiki cried out.

Sekai’s mouth moved lower, biting along his collarbone. He fastened his teeth over a nipple and sucked hard, biting it down. Taiki thrashed, his back arching, his own hands scrambling to grip Sekai’s shoulders.

“Alpha—Ah—”

Sekai growled against his skin. He moved lower, biting at the soft flesh of Taiki’s stomach, his hips. Taiki was still sore from the first time, still leaking Sekai’s release. It didn’t matter.

Sekai flipped him onto his stomach again, hands gripping his waist, fingers digging in like he’d leave dents. He shoved Taiki’s face into the pillow, and when Taiki’s gasp was muffled by the linen, Sekai drove his cock back into him.

Sekai knelt behind him, holding Taiki’s hips up at an angle, dragging him back onto every thrust. He leaned forward, one forearm crossing Taiki’s back, pinning him down. The other hand fisted in his hair, pulling just enough to sting.

Taiki sobbed into the pillow, his body shaking. Sekai’s thrusts were relentless, drilling into that same deep point over and over until Taiki was shuddering, his nails clawing at the sheets.

“Mine,” Sekai snarled into the back of his neck. “All mine.”

He bit down on the scent gland that already bore his mark. Possession and rut all in one brutal act. Taiki screamed into the pillow. He felt Sekai swell inside him again, knotting, filling him until he felt impossibly stretched.

Sekai came with a ragged groan, his body going rigid over Taiki’s. He collapsed forward, his weight crushing Taiki into the mattress.

Taiki blacked out for a few moments before coming back to himself slowly, his body still pinned under Sekai’s. The knot tying them together still throbbing inside him.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. Most likely hours. The light through the drawn curtains dimmed to evening.

Sekai pulled out sometime later. He rolled off Taiki and lay on his back beside him, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, still red.

“Water,” Taiki rasped. His throat hurt. “Sit up.”

Sekai didn’t respond. Taiki pushed himself up on shaky arms, every muscle protesting. He crawled to the edge of the bed, poured a cup of water from the jug Leiya had left. He was trembling so badly the water sloshed.

He brought the cup to Sekai’s lips. “Drink.”

Sekai’s eyes tracked him, confused. He opened his mouth and drank mechanically, water spilling down his chin. Taiki wiped it away with his thumb.

He drank it himself after. The water was cool in his raw throat.

He washed the cloth again, wiped Sekai’s face and chest. He cleaned himself between his legs, washed the worst of the sweat and come away. Sekai didn’t resist—just lay there, watching him with those unnerving red eyes.

When Taiki crawled back onto the bed, Sekai’s arm snapped out, dragging him close. Taiki let himself be rolled back against Sekai’s chest, and let Sekai bury his face against the back of his neck.

He slept like that, in the cage of Sekai’s arms.

Hours later, he woke to pain.

He was on his stomach, his face turned sideways into the pillow. Sekai was inside him again, already fucking deep and rough. The burn was immediate—he wasn’t ready, wasn’t awake enough to have tensed. He cried out, his hands gripping the sheets.

Sekai’s palm slapped hard against his ass, a sharp sting that bloomed into heat. He did it again on the other side, did it a few times more. Taiki whimpered.

Sekai’s other hand came around his throat again. Enough to make his breath hitch, his body arch, enough to drag a broken moan from him.

Then Sekai leaned forward, his chest plastered against Taiki’s back. He bit the muscle of Taiki’s shoulder again, teeth sinking deep enough to bruise. Taiki gasped, his vision blurring.

“My omega,” Sekai whispered again, the voice still guttural and barely human. “My omega. Mine.”

He drove into Taiki harder, faster. The bed rocked beneath them.

Taiki could only take it, his mind floating somewhere outside himself, a tangle of pain and pleasure so deep he didn’t understand it.

No, he did understand.

Taiki... loved this.

He loved the pain. He loved the raw, uncontrolled power of Sekai, the way this man—who prided himself on civilization and restraint—could fracture into something so primal.

Sekai’s knot locked inside him again. Taiki’s body spasmed as Sekai came, filling him with another hot release. He didn’t even touch himself as he came against the sheets, tears leaking from his eyes.

When it was over and Sekai had pulled away, Taiki lay panting, utterly wrecked.

He made Sekai drink water again, now added with few bites of bread. He cleaned them both, wobbling to the washbasin with the cloth. Sekai watched him, eyes tracking his every movement, saying nothing.

That was the pattern.

The rut ripped through Sekai in waves. There was no clock, no distinction between day and night.

There was only Sekai, red-eyed and monstrous, and the cycle of him taking Taiki roughly on every surface—the floor, pressed against the wall by the window, bent over the washstand, on the bed in every position.

Taiki’s legs over Sekai’s shoulders, his back arched until it strained, Sekai’s hands gripping his body until Taiki’s skin bloomed red and purple in the shape of fingers.

By the second day, Taiki was bruised everywhere. Bite marks on his neck, his arms, his nipples, his stomach, hips, and the insides of his thighs. All of them coiling like dark roses on his pale skin. His wrists bore rings of finger-shaped bruises where Sekai held him down. His throat was mottled at the front from where Sekai held him each time he took him from behind.

Taiki spoke constantly through it.

“I’m here, my alpha.”

A hard thrust knocked the words from him.

“Nnh—yes. Just like that...”

Sekai growled into his ear.

Taiki gasped, “Harder. Harder, alpha—please.”

Sekai complied with a ferocity that drove the air from Taiki’s lungs, so fast and deep Taiki screamed. He wrapped his legs tighter around Sekai’s waist, anchoring himself to the force of him.

“Alpha,” he moaned when Sekai fucked him on hands and knees, his own face pressed into the mattress.

Sekai slammed into him, his fingers threading into Taiki’s hair and pulling sharply.

“Mine,” Sekai snarled, and when he came this time, Taiki felt it all the way to his throat.

On the third afternoon—or something like that, Taiki forgot the sense of time—Sekai took Taiki on the floor by the cold fireplace. Taiki was on his back, his hips propped on the bundled blanket Sekai had thrown down. Sekai drove into him slowly this time, his expression taut with concentration, sweat dripping from his brow onto Taiki’s chest.

Taiki watched his face. The perfect features twisted with need, the red eyes wild with something beyond reason.

“Alpha,” Taiki choked out. He reached up to touch Sekai’s cheek. “My Alpha.”

Sekai caught his wrist, pressed it hard into the floorboards by Taiki’s head. He leaned down and bit Taiki’s lower lip, drawing blood.

Taiki tasted it, sweet and metallic. He opened his mouth, letting Sekai claim it.

Sekai’s grip tightened around his throat again. Not constricting his airway completely, but the threat of it hung there, in the way his thumb pressed against Taiki’s pulse point. Taiki’s heartbeat pounded against that thumb.

Sekai fucked him into the floor.

Taiki lost himself to the rhythm, the burn, the brutal, possessive love of it. He came untouched again, shuddering beneath Sekai, his head thrown back, Sekai’s hand tightening just enough to make stars explode behind his eyes.

Sekai followed him with a broken groan, knotting deep, his face buried against Taiki’s neck as he spilled inside him.

They lay there for a long time, knotted together on the blanket. Sekai’s breath slowed gradually from ragged gasps to softer pants. The red in his eyes began to fade, leaving behind a lost and exhausted starkness.

He blinked down at Taiki. His hand still rested on Taiki’s throat, but his thumb now gently brushed over the purple bruises there.

“Taiki,” he whispered.

It was the first coherent thing he’d said in three days.

Taiki smiled up at him, his lips swollen and bled. His whole body ached. He was sore in places he hadn’t known could be sore.

And yet.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice barely there. “I’m right here, love.”

Sekai’s eyes glazed over. He looked at Taiki’s face as if seeing him for the first time in days, and then his eyelids fluttered shut. His body went limp, slumping forward atop Taiki with a shuddering exhale. He’d passed out, the rut’s frantic energy finally spent.

Taiki sighed. He lifted a trembling hand and stroked Sekai’s damp hair. “It’s alright,” he murmured to the quiet room.

He waited until his own breathing evened out. Then, using every scrap of strength he had left, he pushed at Sekai’s dead weight, rolling him carefully to the side. He crawled to his knees, and got his arms under Sekai’s.

Somehow, he managed to half-drag Sekai to the bed. He collapsed Sekai onto the mattress, then dragged himself up beside him. He tugged the covers over them both, arranged Sekai’s heavy arm across his own waist, and let the darkness take him.

Taiki stirred.

The first sensation was warmth, and the second was everything else.

Pain and aches were felt from every corner of him at once. His hips. His thighs. His throat. The places where Sekai's hands had gripped him, the places where his teeth had marked him. Even the muscles of his back protested when he simply drew a breath.

He whimpered and shifted—and immediately regretted it. A sharp wince pulled at his mouth. He lay very still for a moment.

Then he opened his eyes.

Sekai sat upright beside him, the sheet pooled at his waist, his bare shoulders rigid. His face had gone very pale. His hands rested on his own knees and they were trembling as he was staring at Taiki.

Taiki blinked up at him.

"Are you alright?" His voice barely came out. He cleared his throat. "Is the rut finished, or do you still—"

"Taiki."

The way Sekai said his name stopped him.

"Taiki, I—I'm sorry," Sekai swallowed. The words came out stuttered, stripped of all his usual composure. "I'm so sorry. I hurt you. I—this was a mistake, you shouldn't have stayed, I told you—I told you to leave, I told you what I was and you—" His voice broke. "You should have left. You should have run."

Taiki lay there and listened. And as Sekai spiralled, growing quieter and more wrecked with each word, Taiki's gaze drifted downward.

He looked at himself for the first time.

Both forearms bore marks of fingers, bruised red and purple. His hips were mottled, dark purple blooming against his pale skin where Sekai had held him down. There were bite marks—lots of them. On his shoulder, his collarbone, his nipples. On his neck that he felt a dull throb when he turned his head. His inner thighs bore long red scratches that had faded to a tender pink. His lips were swollen.

He took all of this in slowly.

And then he laughed.

"Oh my—" He pressed a hand to his sternum and winced pleasantly. "Everything hurts."

He said it the way a person says the view from up here is amazing.

Sekai stared at him as though he had lost his mind entirely.

"Why are you laughing?"

Taiki pressed his lips together, but the smile refused to leave. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and a warm flush crept up from his chest to his jaw.

"I... I liked it." Taiki said quietly.

Sekai froze.

"I don't understand—what do you mean?"

"I mean I liked it."

"Taiki." Sekai was frightened. "Look at yourself. There are bite marks—there, and there—your hips are—I had my hands around your throat—"

"I am aware."

"You were in pain."

"Yes."

"I hurt you."

"Yes, Sekai, I know, I was present." Taiki shifted himself carefully upright and met Sekai's horrified gaze without flinching. His cheeks burned scarlet but his voice stayed steady. "I felt every second of it. The pain, yes. Every bruise as it formed. And I loved it."

The silence followed.

"It turns out I love watching you lose control," Taiki continued shyly. "The roughness. The way you handled me. I loved all of it."

Sekai looked at him, mouth gaping.

"But I hurt you," he said again, as though repetition might make Taiki understand.

Taiki tilted his head to one side, considering this seriously.

"Does it count as hurting if I enjoyed every second of it?" he said at last.

Sekai's entire worldview just shattered.

Taiki watched Sekai spiral again. And then decided that he had quite enough of that.

He moved.

The wince came immediately, pain flaring from his hips and thighs as he shifted across the sheet. He ignored it. He kept moving, crawling across the bed until he was directly in front of Sekai.

Sekai panicked. "Taiki, you should rest. You're injured, you need to—"

Taiki swung his leg over Sekai's lap and sat down.

Sekai's hands flew up on instinct around Taiki's hips to stop him from toppling sideways, and then every muscle in Sekai's body went rigid. His palms registered what they'd caught.

The faint swell of it beneath his fingers, damage his own hands had made, and the spiral came back again—

"Stop thinking." Taiki's hands pressed against his chest, holding him in place and steadying himself. 

Sekai blinked.

"Taiki—"

"Stop thinking, Sekai."

"I can feel the bruises under my hands, I cannot simply—"

"Stop." Taiki's fingers curled, a press against his sternum. "Thinking."

Sekai's mouth closed.

Taiki leaned in.

He pressed his lips to Sekai's jaw first, and then lower, tracing down the line of his neck. Then he found it—the scent gland below Sekai's ear, where Taiki's own bonding bite had settled into his skin like a signature. Taiki dragged his teeth across it.

Sekai shuddered.

"You spent four years terrified of this," Taiki murmured against his throat. "You called yourself a monster, and almost left the country..." Taiki's fingers threaded up into his hair, curling into the short dark strands at the nape of his neck. "Over this."

He pulled.

Sekai's breath caught hard, his head tilting back before he could stop it.

"And all this time, your wife was going to love it." Taiki's voice dropped low and warm, threaded with amusement.

"You're—" Sekai's voice strained. "—you're unbelievable. You're absolutely—"

"Yours," Taiki pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "I'm yours, Sekai. All of me. Even the parts that like being thrown around by my husband."

Sekai stared at him.

This impossible omega. This maddening brave creature who had walked into his life at a ball and simply refused every warning—had stayed through three days of rut without flinching, and was now sitting in his lap with bruises on his skin and a smile like he had won something.

He had won something.

"You're out of your mind," Sekai said.

Taiki pretended to think seriously and then shrugged.

"Perhaps." His fingers curled in Sekai's hair again. "Are you going to kiss me, or lecture me about it?"

Something in Sekai's chest broke open.

He grabbed Taiki's face in both hands and kissed him deeply. Taiki made a satisfied sound against his mouth and grinned into the kiss. Sekai felt it, and kissed him harder for it.

Taiki pulled back just enough. "Lie down."

Sekai blinked. "What?"

"Lie." Taiki pressed a palm against his chest and pushed. "Down."

Sekaie let himself be pushed, settling back against the pillows with his eyes on Taiki.

Taiki, still on Sekai's lap, started to stroke Sekai's cock until it hardened.

"Mmmh—Taiki—"

Sekai's hands moved to settle at his waist. Taiki's other hand reached down and gripped his wrist.

"Don't be careful with me," Taiki said.

"Taiki—"

"I mean it." He held Sekai's gaze. "You're awake this time. I want you awake."

Sekai searched his face, looking for hesitation. He found nothing.

"... Alright."

Taiki rolled his hips forward in answer.

He was already slick—three days of rut had recalibrated something in him, and his body responded to Sekai now with embarrassing speed. He lined his hole up and sank into Sekai.

"Ah—" His thighs trembling with the stretch, and he dropped his head forward and breathed through it.

It felt full. God, so full.

Sekai's grip tightened at his hips without thinking. Taiki looked down at him and smiled.

Then he moved.

He set a fast pace immediately. Hips rolling and snapping down hard, his own breathing short. He braced one hand against Sekai's chest, nails pressing in.

"There," Taiki moaned, and rolled his hips harder.

"Taiki—"

"Harder."

"I haven't—I'm not in rut, I'll hurt—"

Taiki leaned down close, his teeth catching the edge of his ear.

"Sekai, my love. I'm telling you what I want. Are you going to give it to me?"

Sekai groaned and then his hands moved.

He gripped Taiki's bruised hips and thrust up.

"Ah—!" Taiki's back arched. "Yes—yes, like that—"

Sekai thrust again. And again. Meeting every downward roll of Taiki's hips withforce, driving deeper. Taiki scratched down his chest, raked red lines into his skin, bit at his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Sekai grabbed his thighs and pulled him down hard as he thrust up, and Taiki's voice broke entirely.

"Ah—nnh—more—"

Sekai watched Taiki throw his head back, watched the long line of his bruised throat. He watched his wife dig nails into his skin and demand more and harder with absolutely no shame.

This isn't rut pheromones.

This is just Taiki.

And something in Sekai's chest, something coiled for four years, simply let go.

He flipped them and gripped Taiki's hips roughly.

Taiki hit the mattress with a gasp, legs wrapping around Sekai's waist on instinct, and Sekai drove into him.

"Yes—" Taiki's fingers clawed at his back. "Yes, Alpha—"

"So—nnh—you want it rough—"

"Yes—ah—please, don't stop—"

He didn't stop.

The room filled with the crack of the headboard and Taiki's voice. Sekai's hips snapped relentless and deep until Taiki's words dissolved into shapeless noise.

Taiki's thighs shook. His head pressed back into the pillow, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, and then he clenched around Sekai and came apart with a sharp cry.

"Sekai—"

The clench of it dragged Sekai over the edge—he drove in deep, and felt the knot swell and lock. Taiki gasp at the sudden fullness and then moan in satisfy as Sekai spilled thick seed into him.

The room went quiet except their exhausted breaths.

Sekai breathed into Taiki's throat. Taiki's chest rose and fell rapidly beneath him, fingers stroking Sekai's back softly.

"My good, good Alpha." Taiki whispered.

They moved position and lay tangled, the sheets was a wreckage around them. Taiki draped across Sekai's chest like something boneless and thoroughly satisfied, cheek pressed to the junction of his shoulder. Sekai's arm circled his back, heavy and warm.

The bruises had multiplied on Taiki's body, deep violet impressions that would at least take a week to fade. Sekai had acquired his own collection: red lines raked down his back, a bite mark purpling at his shoulder, smaller crescents scattered across his chest where Taiki's nails had pressed and pressed and pressed.

Taiki's fingers moved in idle patterns across Sekai's sternum.

"See? I'm not afraid of you," he said quietly.

He felt Sekai's exhale more than heard it.

"And before you say anything—" Taiki pressed his finger against the centre of Sekai's chest, "—I'm not putting up a brave front. I'm genuinely comfortable. Annoyingly so, actually."

Sekai's arm tightened around him and drew him closer as he sighed.

"Yes, I believe you."

Taiki tilted his head back slightly to look up. A small smile curved his mouth.

"I told you so months ago, in the drawing room at Wisteria Cottage. While you were still pale from riding through a storm for hours."

Sekai said nothing.

"You should listen to me more often." The smile sharpened, utterly pleased. "I'm very intelligent."

Sekai huffed a laugh. But his hand, where it rested against the curve of Taiki's back, trembled.

"I thought I would break you." Sekai whispered.

Taiki huffed. "You underestimate me."

"Yes, I did."

Taiki stared.

His jaw hardened, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to hold something. The shadows beneath his eyes had deepened since the rut's end. He looked older than twenty five, but also younger. He was a man who had carried something heavy for so long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to set it down.

"You're not a monster, Sekai. You're just... a lot." The corner of Taiki's mouth curved. "And lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a lot."

Sekai turned, his hand curved around Taiki's face. His thumb traced Taiki's cheekbone—the same hands that had gripped his hips hard enough to leave bruises, now barely touching.

Sekai's eyes went bright. Then they spilled over.

Tears tracked down his temples and into his hair, one after another unstoppable. He simply wept, because he had nothing to hide anymore and still be loved for it.

Taiki's chest cracked.

He had seen this once before. That evening in the summer house, after Taiki had promised to figure things out together—Sekai cried in front of him for the first time. That alone had told Taiki everything about how long Sekai had lived with this. How much it had cost him.

And now here, on the other side of that promise, Sekai cried again.

Taiki decided that he would spend the rest of his life making this man feel worthy of being loved.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Sekai whispered brokenly.

Taiki looked at him for a long moment and then smiled softly. His heart was so full it pressed against his ribs. His thumbs found Sekai's cheeks and swept the tears away.

"Bought me a very expensive custom necklace, apparently." He kept wiping the tears away. "My standards are embarrassingly low."

Sekai laughed mid-cry, and Taiki's smile widened.

Then Sekai pulled him down and kissed him. His lips moved against Taiki's like a question finally answered.

Taiki melted into it. His hand found Sekai's jaw and held it. He let himself be kissed thoroughly.

"I love you," Taiki whispered as they parted.

"I love you most," Sekai whispered back.

Taiki opened his mouth to argue, but Sekai kissed him again before he could.

The room looked like a small war had taken place in it. Which, Taiki supposed, was not entirely inaccurate.

The writing desk had lost one leg and leaned against the wall. The curtain rod drooped on one side where something—he did not remember what—had caught it. The bedsheets were beyond saving. A chair sat upended near the window. Several items from Taiki's travel case had scattered across the room.

Sekai stood in the middle of it with his hands on his hips.

"I'm going to clean this," Sekai said.

"We're going to clean this," Taiki corrected from the bed.

Sekai turned. "No."

"Sekai—"

"You're not moving from that bed."

Taiki opened his mouth.

"You're sore. Don't argue with me about this."

"You're tired too. Your rut just—"

Sekai crossed the room and crouched beside the bed so their eyes were level. His face was decisive. "Taiki, let me do this. Let me take care of what I did."

"I told you I liked—"

"I know you did. You've told me and I believe you." He paused. "But I still need to do something. I need to—" He stopped again, pressing his lips together. "Please. Let me."

Taiki looked at him for a long moment.

"Fine. But if you collapse, I'm going to be furious."

Sekai's mouth curved faintly. He stood and pressed a brief kiss to Taiki's hair, then turned and began.

Taiki watched from the bed with his knees drawn up, his robe pulled around him.

Sekai moved efficiently. He righted the chair. He assessed the desk, tested its weight, and moved it against the wall. He gathered the ruined sheets into a pile, then located the spare linens from the press in the corner—Taiki had not even known there was a press in the corner—and made the bed around Taiki, tucking the corners flat.

"You're surprisingly domesticated for a man who has servants for everything," Taiki observed.

"I've camped in places that made this room look luxurious."

"That's a terrible defense."

Sekai ignored him and continued folding.

"You missed a—no, just there, to your left—" Taiki pointed helpfully. Sekai looked at where he was pointing, found a pillow under the writing desk and retrieved it without comment.

When the room itself was put to reasonable order, Sekai came to him. He sat on the edge of the bed, filled the washbasin with water, and wrung out a cloth.

He cleaned Taiki carefully. The cloth moved across his neck, his shoulders, the inside of his wrists. Taiki sat still and let him, looking away at the wall where the curtain now hung properly.

"Bathtub next," Sekai said quietly.

The inn had a small bathtub attached. He simply lowered himself into the bath with a long exhale and let his eyes close.

He soaked until his fingers pruned. He could hear Sekai moving through the room—the soft sounds of linens being dealt with, the travel cases being repacked.

When Taiki finally emerged in his robe, the room had transformed. Every surface was clear. The cases sat packed and buckled by the door. Fresh water stood on the nightstand. The broken furniture had been arranged near the wall where it would be obvious to the innkeeper.

"Sit," Sekai said, nodding at the bed.

"You're very commanding today."

"I'm always commanding."

"You're usually trying to be subtle about it."

Sekai crouched at his travel case and produced a small tin of herb salve.

Sekai eased the robe off Taiki's shoulders with careful hands and paused.

Taiki felt the pause.

"Don't," Taiki said.

"I'm not."

"You're looking at them."

"I'm assessing."

"That's the same thing."

The tin opened and Sekai's hands began to move. He worked on shoulders first, then down the slope of Taiki's arms, along his collarbones, across his chest. The salve went on cool and warmed quickly against the skin. Sekai's hands pressed in soft kneading.

Taiki's eyes drifted shut.

"You have a very good technique," he commented. "Did someone teach you, or did you develop this through years of injuring people?"

"Both."

Taiki laughed.

Sekai moved to his stomach, then the tops of his thighs. Taiki watched him from above—the concentration on his face, the careful placement of his fingers.

"I'm truly fine, love."

Sekai's hands paused on his thigh and looked up.

"I know, but this isn't about whether you're fine." His eyes dropped back to his work. "It's about me wanting to put things right. Stop taking that away from me."

"You are putting things right," Taiki said softly.

Sekai said nothing. His hands moved up. He pressed the salve along the side of Taiki's neck where the bruises and bite marks sat deepest, and his touch there was so gentle Taiki barely felt it.

Then Sekai tipped forward and pressed his lips to Taiki's forehead.

Taiki smiled.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The innkeeper at the front desk was a beta woman that did not flicker once as Taiki itemized the damages.

"One writing desk leg, cracked. One curtain rod bracket, bent beyond use. The bedsheets—three sets—are unsalvageable. The chair is intact but will need re-gluing at the joint." He placed a hand on the counter. "I'll cover the full replacement cost for each. Name your figure."

The innkeeper named it. Taiki agreed without blinking and settled the sum.

"Rooms two, three, four, and seven—" He slid the room keys across. "And my companions are rooms eleven and twelev. I've sent my husband to collect them now. He'll be here shortly."

The innkeeper tucked the keys away and said nothing further. Taiki appreciated her deeply.

He found a low bench along the far wall and settled onto it beside their luggage, watching the doorway.

He heard Yusei before he saw her.

She came around the corner at a running speed. Her eyes found Taiki immediately, and she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands going straight to his face.

"Master Taiki." Her thumbs hovered near his jaw. Her eyes moved across his face—his lip, cheek, the bruised neck above the collar. She drew a breath. "Oh."

"Yusei—"

"Your neck—" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Your collarbone—"

"I know."

"You're—these are—Are you all right? You must tell me truthfully."

"I'm all right." He caught her hands and held them. "I promise. I'll tell you everything when we're home. All of it."

She searched his face unconvinced. "He didn't—it wasn't—"

Taiki glanced around and leaned in. He felt heat rise in his own face as he lowered his voice.

"It was rough, yes. But I... I rather enjoyed it. Considerably." He pulled back. "We are never speaking of this again in public."

Yusei's mouth fell open. She gasped and her face went scarlet too.

Taiki leaned immediately away as if he had not said anything.

Leiya stood three paces behind her. He was looking at Taiki with worried eyes. When he caught Taiki's eye, Taiki gave him a small nod and a genuine smile.

Leiya's shoulders came down half an inch and let out a breath.

Sekai appeared last, coming down the corridor with his coat properly buttoned and his expression neutral. He crossed to Taiki and offered his hand.

Taiki took it.

Sekai pulled him to his feet very slowly, one hand warm at his elbow as Taiki found his footing.

"All right?"

"Perfectly. Stop fussing."

"I'm not fussing."

"You've been fussing for three hours."

"I've been attending to things."

They moved toward the door. The cool afternoon air met them outside, the carriage stood waiting in the yard.

Sekai guided Taiki to the carriage step. He kept one hand at the small of Taiki's back and offered the other. Once Taiki was settled inside, Sekai climbed in after him and closed the door.

The carriage began to roll.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The carriage turned onto Wren Street just as the afternoon light went out from the sky.

Taiki pressed his cheek to the window glass. The street lamps were already lit. The houses along the row were tall, pale stone fronts with iron railings, and though none were as large as his parents' house or the Yamamoto estate, this was good enough.

The carriage slowed.

"Third from the end," Sekai said, leaning to look past him.

The house had a dark blue door.

Taiki looked at it for a moment. "It's smaller than I imagined."

"Good small or bad small?"

"Good small." He pulled back from the window and smiled.

The carriage stopped. Outside, the servants moved quickly—Leiya already at the luggage straps before the horses had fully stilled. Yusei descended from the second carriage behind them and started directing without being asked.

Sekai opened the door and stepped down first. He turned and offered his hand. Taiki took it and stepped down carefully onto the pavement.

The front door was already open.

Six servants stood in a line in the entrance hall, all of them in dark uniforms. They bowed as Sekai and Taiki crossed the threshold.

At the head of the line stood a man of perhaps thirty-five. He was lean and neat—coat pressed, hair combed, not a single wrinkle. His expression was composed.

"Lord Yamamoto. Lady Yamamoto." He bowed. "I am Hori Natsuki. I have been appointed to serve as head of household. Lord Yamamoto—your father—engaged me personally. I served under him at the northern border for six years before returning to domestic service."

Hori paused for a beat before continued. "I have been informed you were delayed. I hope the journey was not too difficult."

His eyes moved briefly to Taiki's collar, where the topmost bruise sat above the fabric. They moved away again immediately.

Sekai cleared his throat. "I apologise for the delay. There was an unexpected circumstance on the road. It couldn't be helped."

"Of course." Hori inclined his head. "Everything here is prepared and has been ready since the week of your wedding. There is no inconvenience whatsoever."

Behind them, Leiya and Yusei came through the door carrying the bags. They peeled away toward the staircase without a word, already in motion.

Hori introduced the remaining servants briefly—two housemaids, a cook, a kitchen boy, and a groundsman who managed the rear of the property. Each of them bowed again when named. Taiki nodded to each in turn and made a point of meeting their eyes.

Then Hori led them through the house.

It was not large, but lovely. The drawing room faced the street, with two chairs near the fireplace and a writing table beneath the window. The dining room sat behind it, a round table that could seat eight but felt comfortable for two. The kitchen was further back, a faint smell of something baked earlier still on the air. Then the farthest were rooms for servants.

"The rear of the property includes a small stable for two horses and a carriage store," Hori said as they passed the back corridor window. Outside in the dark Taiki could just make out a lantern swinging gently above a low door. "Leiya has already been informed of the arrangements."

They went upstairs.

The landing had two doors, side by side.

"The master chambers for Lord Yamamoto," Hori said, gesturing to the left. "And the adjoining room for Lady Yamamoto." He then gestured to the next door. "Leiya and Yusei’s respective rooms are just beyond, so they can be summoned quickly when needed."

"I trust everything will be to your satisfaction. Should you need anything in the night, there is a bell pull in each room." Hori bowed. "Good night, Lord Yamamoto. Lady Yamamoto."

His footsteps went quiet down the stairs.

Sekai stood for a moment. Then he turned to Taiki, tilted his head down, and pressed his lips to Taiki's cheek.

"Good night, love," he said quietly.

He pushed open the right door and disappeared inside.

Taiki stood alone on the landing. He looked at the door on the left. He pushed it open and went in.

The room was generous. That was the first thing Taiki noticed.

His old bedroom at his parents' house had been comfortable enough, but this was noticeably larger—a proper wardrobe against one wall, a big vanity table with a mirror, a writing desk near the window, and a fireplace that had been laid and lit, warming the whole space. The ceiling was high and pretty.

It was a good room.

He stood in the middle of it and looked at the bed.

It was large. Of course it was. White linens, pillows arranged neatly. A perfectly fine bed in a perfectly fine room.

A knock, and then Yusei came through the door with two bags over her shoulders and another tucked under her arm.

"The rest can wait until morning," Taiki said before she could set anything down. "Just leave it. Go sleep."

Yusei gave him a look like she was about to protest, then thought better of it. She set the bags against the wardrobe, helped Taiki out of his travelling clothes, and eased the white night rail over his head, smoothing it at the shoulders. She picked up his discarded clothes, draped them over the chair, and paused at the door.

"Good night, Master Taiki."

"Good night, Yusei."

The door closed.

Taiki stood by the bed. He looked at it. Then he got in, pulled the blanket up, and stared at the ceiling.

This was entirely normal. His parents had separate bedrooms. Every married couple of standing had separate bedrooms. It was orderly and spoke well of the household. Taiki knew this. He had always known this.

He closed his eyes.

Sekai always slept warm. Unreasonably warm, like a furnace wrapped in linen, and the weight of his arm across Taiki's waist had become something Taiki apparently could not go fifteen minutes without. Taiki pushed the blanket back and got up.

He told himself he had a reason as he walked. He was still thinking one up when he knocked on Sekai's door and pushed it open without waiting.

Sekai stood with his back half-turned, bare from the waist up, linen trousers sitting low. Leiya stood behind him with a nightshirt held up and ready. Both of them looked at Taiki.

"What's wrong?" Sekai asked.

"Nothing is wrong," Taiki said very quickly. "I just—I needed to ask you something."

Sekai waited.

"About the—the house. The arrangement of things," Taiki gestured at nothing in particular.

"The arrangement of things."

"Yes."

Sekai stared.

"At this hour?"

"It occurred to me," Taiki said.

"What specifically occurred to you?"

Taiki opened his mouth. "The—the writing desk in my room. Whether it faces east or west. Because I prefer writing in morning light and I wasn't certain of the orientation of the—"

"The house faces north-south," Sekai answered. "The desk faces neither east nor west. I know because I watched them carry it in."

Taiki nodded seriously. "Right. Then I also wanted to ask... whether Meguro settled well."

Sekai's expression didn't move, but his eyes glinted.

"Leiya," he said, reaching back and taking the nightshirt from Leiya's hands. "Leave."

"But Master, I was just about to—"

"Leave."

Leiya obeyed, tucking his chin down to hide whatever expression was on his face. He passed Taiki on his way out and slowed just enough to bow.

The door clicked shut.

Sekai stood there holding the nightshirt, not putting it on. He tilted his head slightly.

"The writing desk," he said.

"I said what I said."

"And Meguro."

"She's a sensitive horse."

Sekai's mouth curved. He took one step toward Taiki, then another, until he was close enough that Taiki had to look up.

"You couldn't sleep, could you?"

"I was perfectly—"

"You couldn't sleep and you wanted to come sleep with me."

"That is a very reductive interpretation of—"

"Taiki."

"The desk is a genuine concern—"

"You've been asleep against my shoulder every night for a month." Sekai was fully smiling now, which was deeply unfair. "You lasted twenty minutes."

"... Fifteen."

"So you admit it."

"I admit nothing, I was simply—" Taiki stopped. Pressed his mouth together. Sekai waited, still smiling patiently.

Something in Taiki's chest gave way.

"Fine," he admitted loudly. "Fine. I wanted to sleep with you. Every night, actually. I want to sleep next to you every night and I know that's not how it's done and I know it's—it's not very independent of me and I'm sorry, I know I'm being a clingy—"

Sekai's arms closed around him, chin dropping to the top of Taiki's head.

"I want to sleep with you every night too, so stop apologizing," Sekai said.

Taiki stood still for a moment. Then he exhaled and let his forehead rest against Sekai's collarbone.

"You could have just said so," he muttered. "With the separate rooms."

"You could have said so."

"I did just say so."

"After fifteen minutes and a speech about a writing desk, yes."

Taiki pinched his side. Sekai laughed and pulled him toward the bed.

He hadn't put the nightshirt on—just dropped it somewhere on his way across the room—and when they settled onto the mattress and Sekai propped himself above Taiki, looking down at him affectionately, Taiki became suddenly very aware of the white linen pooled around his thighs and the fact that he was being looked at.

"What," Taiki said.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"You're wearing that." Sekai nodded at the night rail. "You look... extremely small."

"I'm not small—"

"Soft and small."

"Sekai—"

"Adorable, honestly."

"I will go back to my room—"

Sekai kissed him, smiling against Taiki's mouth, and Taiki's protest dissolved. Sekai's hands moved slowly—one sliding into Taiki's hair, the other drifting to his waist, kneading in careful circles through the thin cotton. He was being cautious, it was obvious he was thinking about the bruises, and somehow that made Taiki's chest ache more than the bruises themselves.

Taiki wound his arms around Sekai's neck and pulled him down.

The kiss was warm, slow and thorough. Sekai pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then beneath his ear. Taiki turned his face into it.

"You're going to ruin all my arguments," Taiki murmured.

"Which ones?"

"All of them. You'll just—do this—and I'll forget what I was saying."

"Good system," Sekai said against his cheek.

"Terrible system."

Sekai kissed him again and Taiki stopped arguing.

Eventually they settled—Sekai on his back, Taiki tucked against his side with one arm stretched across Sekai's chest, the blanket pulled up. The fire had gone low and the room was dim and warm.

Sekai's hand moved through Taiki's hair slowly.

Taiki was asleep within minutes.

The morning of the families' visit, Taiki stood in front of the mirror while Yusei fastened the last button of his collar.

His reflection stared back at him. The suit was a deep cream, the collar high. He had chosen it deliberately, and it still wasn't enough. The bruise above his right collarbone crept over the edge of the fabric. On his left wrist, where the cuff didn't quite reach, another ring of dark purple sat against his skin.

He adjusted the cuff. It slid back. He adjusted it again.

"It won't cover, Master Taiki," Yusei said.

"I know." Taiki dropped his hand.

Downstairs, Sekai was already in the drawing room when Taiki came down, standing by the window in his dark jacket, hands clasped behind his back. He turned when he heard the door.

His eyes went immediately to Taiki's collar, then his wrists. His jaw tightened.

"It's not that bad," Taiki said.

"Taiki—"

"The ones on my ribs are far more impressive, honestly, and no one will see those." Taiki walked to the side table and poured himself a glass of water, calm as anything. "So you can stop looking like you're about to be hanged."

Sekai exhaled through his nose. "Your father is going to kill me."

"Father will not kill you."

"He dueled me and I was nearly lost."

"He also cried at Keito's first riding lesson." Taiki set the glass down. "He's a man of range."

Sekai did not look reassured. He moved away from the window, paced back and forth.

Taiki watched him make another half-circuit of the room and felt something in his chest soften. He crossed the room and stood in front of him.

"You didn't do anything to me that I didn't want," Taiki said softly. "I was there. I stayed. And if you say the word monster about yourself one more time today I'm going to be very cross."

Sekai looked at him for a moment. His expression was difficult to read.

"Cross," he repeated.

"Furious."

"You've never been furious in your life. You get precise and your voice goes very level. It's actually quite frightening."

"Then behave yourself and you won't find out." Taiki reached up and straightened Sekai's cravat. His hands rested on Sekai's chest afterward, and Sekai's came up to cover them.

"What if he—"

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

"I know Father. And I know you. And I know that you spent years terrified of yourself and it turns out you had nothing to be terrified of, and today you are going to sit at this table with our families and explain that to them, and it will be fine."

Taiki kissed his cheek. Sekai's hands tightened briefly over Taiki's, and his shoulders came down an inch.

Taiki started to pull back. Sekai turned and caught his mouth instead, a warm kiss that tasted like morning tea.

From the doorway, Hori cleared his throat and announced that the carriages had been sighted at the end of the lane. Then he retreated without another word.

Both families arrived within ten minutes of each other. Tetsuya came through the door first, already emotional, clasping Taiki's hands and exclaiming over the entryway. Kenchi followed behind him, shaking Sekai's hand firmly.

Then Takahiro swept in, kissing Taiki on both cheeks and then studying him. Her eyes moved to his collar, then his wrists. Her expression did not change, but her gaze lingered a half-second too long before she released him and turned to greet Sekai cheerfully.

Keito hugged Taiki before looked at him with narrow eyes and said nothing.

Akira was last through the door. He shook Sekai's hand, looked at Taiki, and his jaw shifted as he registered what was visible above the collar.

Hori served lunch quietly. The dining room held them all comfortably—a long table and good light from the sun.

Talk moved in the easy, the way two families who had known each other long enough to have their own rhythms.

Tetsuya asked about the neighborhood and whether the market on Thursday was worth the walk. Takahiro confirmed it was, having apparently already visited. Akira and Kenchi fell into a brief exchange about road conditions between London and the south coast. Keito asked about the stables, learned Meguro had been brought up from the estate, and declared she needed to visit her immediately after lunch.

Sekai mentioned that the house's previous occupant had left a respectable wine cellar, which Kenchi found interesting. Taiki mentioned that the library was still half-unpacked, which Tetsuya found distressing.

When the first course had been cleared. Taiki looked between his parents and Sekai's.

"We want to thank you both for the house. It means more than we could have said at the time."

"We couldn't very well have you renting," Akira said.

"Your father nearly bought the entire street," Takahiro said pleasantly.

"I looked at two properties."

"He looked at seven."

Taiki giggled.

Hori moved between them efficiently as the second course arrived. Conversation drifted to Keito's continued sword training, to a business venture of Akira's that Kenchi offered a brief opinion on, to whether the Yamamotos' estate roses had survived the particularly brutal winter.

Taiki glanced at his side, observing Sekai. His composed face was in place. But Taiki knew the shape of Sekai well enough by now to see the difference between ease and control. He was holding himself carefully together.

Under the table, Taiki shifted his foot. He found the side of Sekai's shoe and pressed lightly. Sekai's eyes moved to him.

Taiki moved his hand from his own lap and placed it on Sekai's thigh, just above the knee. Sekai's hand came down immediately and closed over it. His fingers laced through Taiki's and held.

Conversation continued above them. No one seemed to notice.

Sekai set down his glass.

"There is something we should tell you," he said.

The table shifted its attention to him.

Sekai didn't look at Taiki, but his grip tightened.

"On the journey back from the honeymoon, I had an early rut." His voice was steady. He'd thought about how to say this, Taiki knew, probably since before they'd left the inn. "We were still in the carriage when it came on. Leiya found an inn on the edge of a market town, and we stayed there until it had run its course. It lasted three days."

The table was quiet.

"We had discussed it beforehand. Taiki knew what to expect from me, or—as much as either of us could anticipate. He had agreed that if it became more than he could manage, he would pulled the bell room and Yusei and Leiya would be within reach." He stopped, and the pause stretched a beat too long. "Though eventually, he did not pull the bell nor come to the door."

Taiki face was warm—had been warm since Sekai said the word rut—but he kept his spine straight and his eyes forward.

"Sekai during his rut was not himself. He was entirely instinct. He wanted me constantly, and he was not gentle about it."

Takahiro was watching him with soft, careful eyes. Tetsuya had gone very still.

"He was rough. The marks you can see—there are more of them. He held me down and bit me. He was—" Taiki took a breath. "He was exactly what he was afraid of being."

Keito had stopped eating. Even she was quiet.

"And I—" Taiki paused, the warmth in his face deepened until he was certain his ears had gone red. Sekai's hand pressed down on his. "I was surprised to find that I did not want him to stop."

The table held was silent for a moment.

Takahiro's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes went wide and mouth gasped. She looked at Taiki, then at Sekai, then back at Taiki. Tetsuya had gone entirely still beside Kenchi.

Akira's expression was complicated. He was a composed man by nature. But his dear son had just announced, at a lunch table, in front of both families, that he had enjoyed being thrown around by his husband.

Akira set his fork down and looked at the tablecloth for a moment.

"Taiki, I need to be certain. You are—when you say you didn't want him to stop... The bruises you have are—" He gestured vaguely at Taiki's collar, at his wrists, and then seemed to decide that gesturing was making it worse. "They look as though they hurt."

Taiki's face had gone deep red. He kept his chin up regardless. "They do, a little. But Father, I need you to understand—it was my choice. All of it." He could feel Sekai's hand rigid under his.

Akira looked at him steadily.

"I love the roughness. I love—I love that he loses himself and I'm still exactly what he wants. I am going to stay with him through every rut he ever has for the rest of our lives and I will not be talked out of it."

Taiki turned to Sekai, eyes full of affection.

"He's not a monster. He never was. He's just—intense. And I happen to be someone who doesn't mind intensity."

Sekai looked back at him, for a moment his face wavered. It lasted a second before Sekai pulled it back behind his composure.

Akira stared at how Taiki looked at Sekai for a long moment. Then his shoulders released and he nodded slowly.

"All right... All right, then."

Across the table, Kenchi let out a slow exhale. He raised one hand and pressed it over his eyes, his palm against his brow, and breathed again.

Then he laughed.

"Four years," Kenchi said, his hand was still over his eyes. "Four years you spent in exile. Other countries, other continents. Wrote letters that said nothing." He lowered his hand. He looked at Sekai, his expression was tired and relieved all at once. "And then this young omega appears, and it's just—" He stopped and exhaled again through his nose, shaking his head. He didn't finish the sentence.

Beside him, Tetsuya made a small sound.

Taiki looked over. Tetsuya's eyes had gone very glassy, and his mouth was wobbling. He let out a soft, wet laugh.

"Forgive me," Tetsuya said, pressing his fingers to the corner of his eye. "I watched him for years. Watched him shrink away from everything good, and I couldn't—" He stopped and collected himself. "I'm sorry for crying at lunch gathering."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Takahiro said warmly.

Kenchi reached over and patted Tetsuya's hand. Tetsuya nodded, blinking rapidly, and reached for his teacup.

The table went silent once again.

Akira coughed once. He glanced across at Kenchi and he glanced back. They communicated in silence, resulting in Akira giving a small nod and Kenchi returned it.

"Well, we are glad there is nothing to be concerned about," Akira said eventually.

"We only want your happiness," Tetsuya managed, looking at Sekai. "Both of you. A long and happy life, and everything that comes with it."

"Health, joy, and as many years together as you can get," Takahiro added warmly.

Kenchi made a sound of agreement.

Akira lifted his wine glass.

The tension in the room melted. Hori appeared briefly in the doorway to collect the course while assessing the emotional state of the room, and withdrew again without a word.

Conversation resumed easier. Tetsuya asked Taiki about the library again, and Taiki answered him properly. Kenchi asked Sekai about the condition of the cellar. Akira inquired about the stables.

Keito had been quiet through all of it.

This was unusual enough that Taiki had noticed it halfway through Sekai's explanation. He kept waiting for the interruption that never came. She ate her food slowly, her expression was somewhere between confused and processing.

Then she swallowed a bite of bread and finallly opened her mouth.

"So let me understand this properly." She pointed her fork at Taiki. "Lord Sekai likes to bite you. And you like being bitten."

Taiki's face went scarlet.

"That is an oversimplification of everything that was just said."

"Is it wrong?"

"It's—it completely misses the—there's context, Keito, there's significant context that you are—"

"Right, but the biting part. That's accurate?"

"I am not discussing this with you."

Keito tilted her head, utterly unbothered. "Brother, I'm trying to understand. You spent weeks being irritated by Lord Sekai. You turned down Lord Sawamoto, who by all accounts was perfectly lovely. And now I'm learning—" she gestured vaguely at his collar— "that what you actually needed this whole time was someone to bite you."

"Keito—"

"Lord Sawamoto would never bite you. He would probably faint if you suggested it." She laughed. "That's the real issue, isn't it. Too agreeable and gentle. The man wouldn't even—"

"That has nothing to do with Lord Sawamoto—"

"He's too meek for you." Keito pointed her fork again. "You need someone who will actually—"

"Do not—"

"—bite you—"

"SHUT UP!" Taiki screamed, and grabbed the bread roll beside his plate.

Sekai's hand closed around his wrist before it left the table.

Taiki turned to him furiously. Sekai calmly removed the bread from his fingers.

"We are not throwing bread at our first family lunch."

"She started it."

"She did. But don't throw the bread."

Taiki set the bread roll down with dignity. His face was the color of the wine.

"Keito," Takahiro said.

Keito returned to her food happily because she had made her point.

Then Takahiro looked at Taiki, her eyes warm and too knowing.

"There is nothing wrong with it, darling," she said pleasantly. "Everyone has their preferences. It is perfectly natural to discover what—"

"Mother," Taiki said desperately.

"—suits you best in a partner—"

"Please—"

"—and it sounds as though Sekai suits you very well—"

"I am begging you—"

Takahiro smiled and reached for her wine.

Taiki pressed both hands over his face and groaned into his palms.

Sekai, beside him, looked at the tablecloth and said absolutely nothing, though the tips of his ears had gone red.

"More wine?" Hori appeared at Akira's elbow at the perfect timing.

Akira held out his glass immediately.

Lunch continued. Sekai and Taiki's hand now held each other on the table, open for everyone to see.

••—–💎—–••⊱ꕥ⊰••—–💎—–••

The families left as the sun began setting, carriages rattling away one by one down Wren Street while Hori closed the front door.

Taiki's room now being less a bedroom and more a catastrophe of wardrobes, hat boxes, three different skincare preparations Yusei had arranged on the vanity, and two trunks that had not yet been fully unpacked. The bed was still there, technically, but it had become largely decorative, serving mostly as a surface for folded garments awaiting proper placement.

Taiki changed here now out of habit. He let Yusei ease him out of his coat and waistcoat, then shooed her away and handled the rest himself, pulling on the white night rail. It was one of his lighter ones, the hem ending in the middle of his thighs. Thin cotton, fine for summer. He took the pins from his hair, combed it out himself, pressed the last of the rose water into his cheeks, and padded barefoot down the hall.

Sekai's room—their room—had one lamp burning low on the bedside table. Sekai was already in bed, propped against the headboard with a book open on his knee, nightshirt loose at the collar, hair slightly disheveled.

He looked up when Taiki came in.

His eyes dropped briefly to the hem of the night rail, then came back up. He said nothing and shifted the book to the nightstand.

Taiki climbed up from his side and had barely settled before Sekai moved. He rolled over and onto Taiki in one easy motion, gathering him in, and dropped his head squarely onto Taiki's chest. His arms wrapped around Taiki's middle. The full comfortable weight of him settled in.

Taiki blinked at the ceiling.

Then he wrapped his arms around Sekai's shoulders and tucked him closer, one hand finding the back of his head, fingers moving slow through his hair.

"That went well," Taiki said.

"Mm." Sekai's voice was muffled against his chest. "Better than I expected."

"Father barely even flinched."

"Your father has a very good face. He was absolutely flinching internally."

"He was not." Taiki's fingers moved through Sekai's hair, slow and absent. "He was fine. He said so."

"He refilled his wine twice during my explanation."

Taiki considered this. "That's just Father."

Sekai made a disagreement sound. Then, after a comfortable pause, "Your sister."

Taiki's hand stilled.

"Lord Sawamoto would never bite you. He would probably faint." Sekai recalled Keito's remarks and laughed.

"Don't."

"She made an excellent point."

"She made an embarrassing point and it is not the same thing." Taiki's hand resumed moving through his hair less gently. "Lord Sawamoto was a perfectly respectable—"

"Too meek."

"He was not—"

"Too agreeable." Sekai tilted his head up to look at Taiki. "You'd have been insufferable to him within a month. You need someone who pushes back."

"I need someone who does not let my seventeen-year-old sister reduce my entire marriage to the subject of biting at the family dining table."

"I wasn't going to stop her. It was the most accurate summary of the afternoon."

Taiki gave his hair a firm tug. Sekai caught his wrist and laughed harder.

"Maybe I should have chosen Lord Sawamoto." Taiki said, pretending to be offended.

Sekai stopped laughing.

The shift was immediate and extremely satisfying. He lifted his head fully from Taiki's chest, and the expression on his face was territorial.

"Too late for that."

"Is it?"

"Extremely." Sekai's arms tightened. "You have my name. The church paperwork is filed. Mrs. Haima knows your tea preference. Hori has already adjusted the household accounts to your name." His eyes dropped briefly to Taiki's neck, to the bond mark sitting below his ear. "Too late."

Taiki bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "That's very possessive."

"Yes."

"Very alpha of you."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

Sekai moved up over him in one smooth motion, forearms bracketing Taiki's head, nose dropping to his jaw. "You're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You are." He pressed his mouth to the corner of Taiki's lips, which were absolutely smiling. "You like me being possessive."

"I like nothing about your—mm—"

Sekai kissed him properly and Taiki stopped arguing immediately, one hand curling into the front of his nightshirt, pulling him closer. Sekai kissed slow and thorough, like he had nowhere else to be, which he didn't, because this was their house and there was no one left to interrupt them.

Taiki pulled back just enough to breathe. Sekai stayed close, his thumb tracing a slow line along Taiki's jaw.

"My heat is next month," Taiki said suddenly.

Sekai blinked. The shift from kissing to this particular conversation took him a moment. "Already?"

"Yes. The schedule is fairly consistent—twice a year. It's been regular since I was seventeen."

Taiki smoothed a crease in Sekai's nightshirt with his thumb, not quite meeting his eyes as he added, "You know what it means if you knot me during heat."

"You will most likely get pregnant."

Taiki studied his face carefully. "I'm asking because it's my choice too. You will not knot without my say."

Sekai looked at him like this was not even a question worth answering. "Of course not. If you don't want it, I won't. We manage it some other way."

Taiki stared at him for a long moment.

Then he giggled.

Sekai frowned. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just—" Taiki pressed his lips together, still smiling. "You're a very strange alpha."

"I'm your alpha."

"That's the strange part." But his eyes were warm when he said it.

Taiki was quiet for a moment, and then his expression turned shy.

"I do want to bear your children, though."

Sekai froze.

"I've been thinking about it. Little ones running around... Small Sekais." He paused, clearly picturing it. "Scowling at everyone, and refusing to smile. Making curt responses to social invitations at age four."

Sekai made a low, warning sound in his throat.

"Correcting people's swordsmanship before they can walk properly—"

Sekai kissed him, hard enough to stop the sentence entirely, and Taiki melted into laughter against his mouth.

"Well then, let's start now." Sekai said on his mouth.

Taiki laughed again. "I'm not in heat yet."

"We can practice."

"That's not how it—Sekai, that's biologically not—"

"Consider it preparation."

"Preparation," Taiki repeated while laughing.

"We should be thorough about this," Sekai said very seriously.

"That is the most—you cannot just—" Taiki's argument dissolved when Sekai kissed him again.

The laughter died. Taiki lost count on how many times Sekai had shut him up with a kiss.

Sekai’s hands moved over Taiki’s body with familiarity, mapping skin he knew by now but still drank in like a man starved. He pushed the night rail up his thighs, slid a palm over the pale skin there, kneading slow circles that made Taiki’s breath hitch.

Taiki hooked one ankle around Sekai's calf, dragging him closer.

"You're thinking too much."

Sekai paused. His breath ghosted over the wet spot he'd left beneath Taiki's ear. "Am I?"

"Yes. You're being gentle."

"I'm being appropriate."

"I don't want appropriate."

Sekai lifted his head. "You're sore."

"You made me sore." Taiki pulled him back down, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. "I liked it."

Sekai's teeth grazed his earlobe. "You truly have a strange definition of like."

"I have a perfect definition of like. I want it again."

Sekai laughed against his skin. "You really do."

"Please." Taiki said, breathless. 

Sekai groaned against his skin, vibrated through Taiki’s chest. Then his hands changed.

He palmed Taiki’s ass through the fabric, squeezing hard enough to make Taiki gasp into his mouth. Sekai swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until Taiki was dizzy with it.

When Sekai pulled back Taiki was panting, lips swollen, eyes wide and dark.

"Ah, finally."

Sekai chuckled. "Yeah?"

"Finally you—mm—" Taiki cut off as Sekai’s mouth bit his jaw, marking a path down his throat. Complying Taiki's command, he wasn’t gentle this time. He sucked at Taiki’s skin until Taiki was certain it would bruise, licking over the spot after, soothing and stinging all at once. Taiki’s head fell back, giving him better access.

Sekai kissed the bond mark directly, tongue tracing the scarred edges of his bite, and Taiki’s whole body jerked. He cried out as Sekai did it again harder, until Taiki was writhing under him, thighs trembling.

"You’re so responsive," Sekai murmured against his skin, voice ragged. "Every place I touch."

"You—ah—you know where to touch."

"I do." Sekai’s hands pushed the night rail higher up to Taiki’s chest, baring him from the waist down, only panties on.

Taiki broke off into a moan as Sekai’s mouth wandered lower, down his sternum to his chest. He took one peaked nipple between his lips, suckled gently, then bit down.

Taiki cried out, fingers tightening in his hair.

"Good?" Sekai rasped against his skin, breath hot.

"Yes, alpha."

He lavished the same attention on the other side, until Taiki was gasping and writhing beneath him. Sekai dragged his mouth lower still, kissing the soft underside of his armpit. Taiki let out a giggle that turned into another moan when Sekai nipped the tender skin there.

"Ticklish," Sekai noted, voice thick with amusement.

"You’re—ah—a menace."

Sekai’s mouth moved down his stomach, lips and tongue tracing the faint line of muscle there, dipping into his navel. He moved lower and lower until his mouth bit the crease of Taiki’s thigh.

Taiki yelped. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was sharp and his whole body arched off the bed. Sekai did the other side, and Taiki’s hands flew to his hair, holding him there, letting him.

"Nnh—Sekai—"

Taiki’s legs fell open wider, a shameless invitation. Sekai groaned, resting his forehead against Taiki’s hip bone for a second, fighting for control. When he looked up, his pupils were blown wide.

He pushed himself up on his knees and began taking his night shirt. Taiki watched him with chest heaving, fingers already fumbling at his night rail, trying to pull it off entirely.

“Leave it on,” Sekai said roughly.

Taiki blinked. “What?”

“The night rail.” Sekai's fingers smoothing the fabric back down over Taiki’s chest, leaving his legs bare but the rest of him covered. “I want to fuck you in short night rails.”

Taiki's cheeks flushed hot. "That's—That's indecent."

"Exactly." Sekai leaned over him. He was shirtless now, his trousers open but not yet removed, and the sight of him—broad shoulders, the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his waistband—made Taiki’s mouth go dry. “I want to see you coming undone in it. I want to watch the fabric get wet with your fluid.”

Taiki's head went dizzy. He couldn't think of anything clever to say.

Sekai leaned down and kissed him again while his hand slid between Taiki’s legs. He pressed two fingers against him, and Taiki gasped into his mouth. He was already slick, embarrassingly wet, and Sekai groaned.

"So eager," Sekai breathed against his lips.

"You—ah—you took too long," Taiki managed, his hips rocking down against Sekai’s fingers.

Sekai pushed three fingers inside him easily, and Taiki cried out. He was loose and open. Sekai’s fingers curled just right, rubbing against something that made him see stars.

"Nnh—please—already—"

"I know." Sekai pulled his fingers free, and Taiki whimpered at the loss.

He fumbled with his trousers, pushing them down just enough to free himself. He was hard, flushed dark and eager.

Taiki reached for him, wanting to touch, but Sekai caught his wrist and pressed it back into the mattress. "No," he said, voice rough. "Not tonight. Just let me."

He settled between Taiki’s legs, guiding himself with one hand. Taiki watched the pleasure on his face as he pushed inside him.

The first thrust was slow, filling him completely. Taiki’s eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open on a silent gasp.

Sekai groaned, his hips flush against Taiki's. "God, you feel—"

"Move," Taiki begged.

Sekai moved.

It was rough, rougher than the first time they’d done this in their marriage bed, but not as rough as the rut.

Sekai’s rhythm was fast and deep, each thrust forcing a punched-out sound from Taiki’s throat. The linen of his night rail rubbed against his skin with every movement.

"Ah—ah—mmh—" Taiki’s hands flew to Sekai’s shoulders, nails digging in.

"Look at you taking me so well," Sekai said, voice strained. He gripped the night rail around Taiki’s ribs, used it to haul him even closer.

Taiki couldn’t answer. He was sobbing, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He felt overfull and overwhelmed. Sekai leaned down and kissed his tears away, tongue hot against his skin. 

Taiki choked on a moan as Sekai hit something that made his vision white out. "I’m—ah—close—"

"Come for me," Sekai said, and his thrusts grew rougher and rougher, driving the air from Taiki’s lungs. "Come for me, love."

Taiki did. He didn't even touch himself. The friction, the feeling of Sekai inside him, the sound of his praising voice—it was enough. He screamed Sekai’s name as his climax released violently.

Sekai watched him come apart. He kept moving through it to chase his own peak. Taiki sobbed through the overstimulation, nails scraping down Sekai’s back.

"Give me your seed, alpha. Knot me," Taiki gasped breathless.

Sekai groaned. His rhythm faltered and turned frantic. He drove in deep one last time and held there as his knot swelled thick at the base of his cock, locking them together.

His hot release surged, flooding Taiki’s body, and he collapsed forward, burying his face in Taiki’s neck. Taiki’s arms came up around him, holding him close as they shuddered through the aftershocks together.

Sekai kissed his temple, his lips soft against Taiki’s skin.

“Okay?” he breathed.

Taiki nodded, unable to speak. He nuzzled into Sekai’s throat, breathing in his scent. their scent.

Lemon and honey, tangled together.

The knot subsided after a while. Sekai eased out of him slowly, and Taiki hissed at the loss. Sekai pressed a kiss to his temple in apology, then reached for the linen cloth on the nightstand, cleaning them both like how they used to. He wiped Taiki down first, very gentle despite the roughness of minutes ago, then himself.

He tugged at the night rail around Taiki's chest. It was obviously ruined with sweats and release. He pulled it over Taiki's head and held it up, examining it with no shame whatsoever.

"Buy another one of these. The short kind."

Taiki snatched it from him. "I am not purchasing intimate garments on your behalf."

"On our behalf."

"That is worse." Taiki dropped the ruined thing off the bed. "Absolutely not."

"I demand for three different colours," Sekai said pleasantly.

"You are shameless."

"You say that like it's a criticism."

Taiki huffed as Sekai looked entirely too satisfied with himself. Taiki pulled the blankets up over them both, refusing to dignify that with a response.

Sekai gathered him in, one arm sliding around his shoulders, and Taiki settled against his chest. The fire had burned low, the room warm and dim.

Taiki pressed his ear to Sekai's heartbeat and listened to it slow as Sekai's hand moved through his hair.

"Thank you for not leaving." Sekai said after a long moment.

Taiki understood what he meant. The long road that had led them here.

"And thank you for always seeing me as I am," Taiki murmured back.

Sekai's arm tightened around him.

"I love you," Sekai said quietly.

"I love you more."

"That's not possible."

"It absolutely is."

"Taiki."

"Mathematically speaking—"

"There is no mathematics in this bed."

"I'm introducing some."

Sekai made a suffering sound. "You cannot argue someone into loving you more."

"I just did."

Sekai gave up. He pressed his lips to Taiki's forehead. "You are going to be the absolute death of me."

Taiki smiled, eyes already closing, and curled tighter against Sekai's chest.

"You will die very loved, then."