Min-jae's breath caught for the briefest of moments.
Damn it. He'd underestimated him.
The Meical of the novel had been cunning, manipulative, ruthless in politics but seeing that calculating glint in his eyes up close was different. It was predatory.
Still, Min-jae forced a smirk, tilting his head as if unfazed. "Use me? My, my… how ambitious. I thought you were just a brooding war hero with a temper problem. Color me.... impressed."
Meical leaned in closer, so close Min-jae could feel his breath ghost across his skin.
"You think you've walked in here with a plan to ruin me and Seraphine?" His smile deepened, humorless and sharp. "You've just handed me leverage over the King himself. Do you know what that means?"
Min-jae's heart thudded against his ribs, but he didn't blink. "That you're not as dumb as you look?"
Meical chuckled—a low, dangerous sound that promised trouble. "It means, my dear wife, that you will play the perfect spouse for me. You will smile at dinners, warm my bed, and stand by my side in public. And in return…" His voice dipped, almost intimate, "…I won't crush you under my heel before you've served your purpose."
Min-jae raised a brow, masking the unease gnawing at him. "So you're keeping me alive because I'm useful. How romantic."
Meical's eyes glinted. "Oh, we'll make it romantic. Especially tonight."
The words hit harder than they should have. Min-jae swallowed before he could stop himself. Kaizar wouldn't have flinched, he scolded himself silently. Get it together. You know how this plays out.
"Fine.." Min-jae said, voice honeyed but tight. "But just so we're clear…" He leaned forward, closing the remaining space between them until their noses almost touched. "…I'm not yours to control. And if you think I'll sit quietly while you try to turn me into a pawn, you're going to find out why the King keeps me by his side."
Meical's smile widened, a predator recognizing another predator. "Good. I prefer my prey with teeth."
He straightened, grabbing Min-jae's chin with one hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Now, wife… shall we give the household the proof they're waiting for?"
Min-jae's pulse spiked. Here it comes. The wedding night scene. He had a plan for this in the novel, something Kaizar had done to get out of it unscathed.
But standing here, feeling the weight of Meical's presence, his iron grip, Min-jae couldn't shake the creeping thought:
What if I can't pull it off?
The heavy doors to Meical's chambers shut with a deep thud, sealing them in.
Min-jae stood in the center of the room, still clad in the extravagant wedding gown, the train spilling across the marble like a pool of snow. He arched a brow at the Duke, feigning nonchalance.
"So.." he said lightly, "what now? You throw me on the bed? Or shall I—"
"Take it off."
The words cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
Min-jae blinked, tilting his head. "My, aren't we..."
"Take. It. Off."
The tone left no room for jest.
Min-jae's smile faltered just a fraction, but he turned his back, fingers searching for the laces. When they snagged, a low growl behind him made him freeze.
Meical's hands brushed his spine as he took over, tugging each knot loose with swift, impatient motions. The gown slackened, sliding off Min-jae's shoulders, then pooled silently at his feet.
Now in only a thin chemise, Min-jae felt suddenly… bare.
"Turn around," Meical commanded.
He obeyed, his usual smirk returning, though his heart pounded furiously beneath the delicate fabric.
Meical's gaze swept over him, lingering a beat too long, before he gestured to the bed.
Min-jae sauntered over, crawling onto the plush mattress. "This is the part where you ravish me, right? Make it quick, Your Grace, I'm busy tomorrow—"
Meical's weight sank the bed as he loomed over him, eyes cold, unreadable. "This is for proof.." he said flatly.
The foreplay began—rough, detached, almost clinical.
Min-jae clenched his jaw, fingers twisting in the sheets, refusing to make a sound.
I can handle this. I've handled worse. Don't give him the satisfaction.
But each touch was unyielding, each preparation rushed and careless.
It hurt. god, it hurt.
When Meical finally entered him, the pain exploded white-hot behind Min-jae's eyes. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, forcing himself to stay silent.
He endured. For a while. Until there was nothing left to endure. Until all there was was pain, unrelenting, tearing him apart from the inside.
A broken cry escaped him.
"Stop..." The word cracked from his throat. "Please....it hurts...."
Meical froze, startled.
Then Min-jae's arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tight despite the pain, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks.
"Please.." he begged, voice trembling, breath hitching. "Be a little gentle… please, I can't… I can't..."
The plea cut through Meical like a blade. He exhaled, slowed his movements, softened them. The harsh rhythm turned careful, measured, until he completely stopped.
But Min-jae's body had reached its limit. His hold slackened, and moments later, he passed out entirely.
Silence filled the room. Meical stilled, chest rising and falling. He glanced at the bed beneath them.
There, faint but undeniable, a small smear of blood stained the pristine white sheets.
Meical's expression was unreadable, he withdrew carefully, then rose and tucked Min-jae against his chest.
He strode to the door, opened it a crack, and summoned a maid.
"Change the sheets.." he ordered curtly.
As the servants entered to strip the bed, Meical carried Min-jae into the adjoining bath. Steam curled in the air from the warm water.
He undressed himself quickly, then stepped into the bath with Min-jae still limp in his arms.
Lowering into the water, he shifted Min-jae so the smaller man's back rested firmly against his chest. He looped his arms around Min-jae's torso, one hand over his heart, keeping him upright and secure in the deep tub.
Min-jae's head lolled against his shoulder, lips parted, a soft sigh escaping him as the warmth eased the tension in his unconscious body.
Meical sat there, holding him close as he bathed them both, his movements precise, careful, washing away the evidence of what had transpired, though not the echo of that trembling plea.
When he finished, he lifted Min-jae out, wrapped him in a thick towel, and dressed him in one of his own shirts.