AHEIAID Chapter 21: Already in His Mouth
| Previous | Table of Contents | Next |
Capital of the Ottoman Empire.
Darciak Palace.
Standing in the garden where generations of royalty had lived and countless noble tea parties had been held, the Third Prince, Harry, bent down to gently inhale the fragrance of a fully bloomed red rose on the rose wall.
His thick, curled eyelashes cast a beautiful shadow over his fair cheeks, and the soft platinum blond hair, slightly curled at the ends, was tucked behind his pointed ears. As he lowered his head, a few strands slipped down the side of his face.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering fragments of light onto the loosely draped white robe he wore, adding to the artistic beauty of the scene.
Not far away, maids and stewards stood quietly, their rigid postures and solemn expressions embodying the strict traditions of the ancient royal family.
Meanwhile, their guest sipped tea alone, his gaze never lingering on the so-called "scenic beauty."
After admiring the flower, Harry straightened up, picked up a golden pair of scissors from the table, and lightly stepped back to the rose wall. One by one, he began cutting down the very flowers he had just touched.
Like beheaded beauties, the roses fell onto the grass.
Looking at them, Harry revealed a satisfied, delighted smile. Tilting his head slightly, he addressed the guest behind him, "There are indeed some minor scandals about me in District 13."
The guest showed no surprise at these words.
Snap—
Another rose fell to the ground.
"But I’ve already taken care of the evidence."
"By labeling them as rebels attempting assassination? Hah… such a childish tactic. Garius Heine will track it back to you sooner or later."
The short-haired, silver-streaked man—though already past fifty—remained sharp-eyed and strong. Setting down his teacup, he fixed his piercing hawk-like gaze on Harry's back.
"I’ve warned you of his danger, and I’ve told you that he poses no threat to us at the moment. Yet, you insist on provoking him with these foolish actions. I need an explanation for this, Your Highness. I will not support an idiot in ascending the throne. You should know that a foolish ally or superior is far more terrifying than a brilliant enemy."
"I know."
"You know nothing!"
Suddenly, the elderly man, who had just been sipping tea, could no longer contain his anger. He slammed the table with a low growl.
The tea set rattled violently. Harry, still facing away, let his smile fade. His expression turned blank as he stopped cutting the flowers, folded the scissors, and turned around to meet the old man's imposing gaze.
In the Ottoman Empire, power was evenly divided between the royal family and the council.
However, the Emperor held the most prestigious position.
From a young age, as a prince, Harry had been at the heart of the power struggle. With the support of the "Hawk Faction" led by Second District Chief Druck, he had engaged in a fierce, covert battle for imperial authority against the Crown Prince, who was backed by the "Dove Faction."
Harry still remembered the warning Druck had given him when they formed their alliance.
The old man had asked him, "Do you think the strong-handed Hawks are more powerful, or is it the rigid, foundational Doves? Or perhaps… the Neutrals?"
Trying to win favor and confident in himself, Harry answered, "The Hawks." But to his surprise, the man—whom even the Emperor had to concede to at times—told him:
"It’s the Neutrals."
Anyone caught in the whirlpool of power must not naïvely believe they can remain unscathed. Holding onto one's true nature was as precarious as walking a tightrope—one misstep, and they would become a casualty of the struggle between factions.
To truly remain neutral in the face of two major forces, one must possess the ability to restrain both sides.
At the time, Harry had been deeply curious about this "neutral faction," but he had a faint suspicion of who Druck was referring to. He had long heard of the Heine family's reputation and had, on multiple occasions, sensed his own father’s wariness and reliance on the name Garius Heine.
"He belongs to no faction. As long as you don’t cross his bottom line, he won’t interfere in your fight against the Crown Prince. The Heine family serves only the Empire—they don’t care who sits on the throne."
Druck had repeated these words countless times.
But Harry, ever the rebellious soul, felt an uncontrollable urge to test those boundaries the more he heard them.
So, he did.
And the consequences…
To this day, he could still vividly recall the moment that man stood before him, reciting word for word the exact private thoughts he had murmured to himself alone in his chamber the night before…
He knew everything.
He knew all my plans. He knew everything!
The cold indifference in those golden-green eyes, the sheer disdain—like he was nothing more than a lowly insect crawling in the dirt. The suffocating presence of someone who held absolute control over everything made Harry’s breathing feel unbearably heavy.
Ever since that moment, Harry seemed to be possessed, unable to suppress his obsession and madness, always wanting to find ways to trouble that man.
"His eyes are watching the empire. He won’t care about small tricks, but if you keep seeking death, I won’t help you."
Druck stood up, meeting Harry’s gaze with a cold expression before turning to leave.
The breathtakingly handsome young man stood still by the small tea table for a moment. Then, his dazed eyes flickered as he murmured, "Garius Heine…"
With that, he lifted his hand and stabbed the scissors into the table with a loud thud!
When the system broadcasted the increase in favorability, Joey scratched his ear and pondered the words for a long time before finally reacting.
"System? What did you say? How much did the favorability increase??"
The system was just as excited: [20! 20 points, Host!]
Joey’s eyes widened. "Holy shit… wait, yesterday the favorability was rising at a snail’s pace, and today it just suddenly skyrocketed?! I didn’t even do anything! Did you accidentally add an extra zero?"
Joey was ecstatic, like he had won the lottery! But at the same time, he was nervous, afraid that this was all a bug. He quickly urged the system to check again.
The system, just as anxious, triple-checked the numbers six times, then let out a high-pitched scream.
Joey clutched his chest. "I knew it was fake—"
[It’s real! It’s truly 20! No bug!!!]
Joey: …
AAAAAHHHHHH——
Holy shit, thank you, Poop Scooper! Thank you, System! Thank you, my seventh aunt’s second uncle’s grandpa! Thanks to everyone who supported me!
HAHAHAHAHA 20 POINTS, TWENTY!!!
What was this?
This was "The flower you carefully plant won’t bloom, but the willow you casually stick in the ground will thrive!"
Joey and the system almost burst into tears of joy, hugging each other in celebration.
Under the system’s kind gaze, the overjoyed Joey threw himself at his poop-scooping, outrageously handsome benefactor. Like an overexcited puppy, he lunged at those full lips and smooch! landed two kisses.
"Thank you, thank you, Garius!"
"Damn it… I freaking love you, wuwuwu…"
Joey cupped Garius’ face with both hands, his shiny black eyes filled with stars as he rambled nonsense. He clung to Garius’ chest, rubbing against him without a care. Whether Garius could understand him or not didn’t matter. Whether Joey even knew how to kiss didn’t matter either. He just went mua mua mua, kissing away in a frenzy.
The noble and powerful man froze on the spot, his lips slightly squashed from Joey’s attacks.
Saxis and Amon, along with the rest of the combat squad, stood in utter shock, their jaws practically drilling through the ground into another planet.
Tears welled up in Joey’s eyes. "Thank you, Poop Scooper, really, thank you! You’re so generous, even to a chubby little trash-gobbling machine like me. I—I… I don’t even have words! It’s all in my mouth—mua!"
Saxis: "…"
Amon and the combat squad: "…"
What did we just witness?
A mere human just… flirted with Lord Heine?! Oh no, is Lord Heine going to snap his neck?!
They turned their creaky, stiff necks toward their commander, who always disregarded gender, beauty, or status, who looked at even royalty with the same expression one would have for a pile of maggots…
And yet—
To their absolute horror—
He smiled.
Not only did he not punish the offender, but he didn’t even reprimand him.
Instead, he calmly placed one hand under the tiny human’s butt to keep him from wriggling too much and falling. With his other long, elegant hand, he buried his fingers into Joey’s fluffy curls and gently tugged him back. His voice was soft:
"You’ll bump your lips, Joey. Be good."
"Wuwuwu, Garius, Garius—mua mua mua—"
Saxis: "…"
Amon and the combat squad: "…"
If I have committed a crime, let the law judge me… Oh wait, our commander is the law itself. Ha. Ha.
Despair.jpg
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
Comments
Post a Comment