Moonlight spilled like liquid silver over the marble halls, catching in rose petals scattered across the balcony. Yurei's voice floated through the silence—soft, bitter-sweet, drunken yet eerily steady.
"Sweet as chocolate, bitter as truth,"
巧克力般甜,真相比苦
(Qiǎokèlì bān tián, zhēnxiàng bǐ kǔ)
"Love melts quicker than king's old youth."
爱比王老去更快融化
(Ài bǐ wáng lǎo qù gèng kuài rónghuà)
His hair spilled around him like drifting fog, sleeves of golden silk fluttering in drunken circles. The moon caught on the fine edges of his fox ears, making them glow. A flush of wine still clung to his pale face, lips dark as crushed rose petals.
Sozai stepped after him, black robes rippling, black cat ears twitching with amused relief. His eyes softened, half-glad Yurei had finally begun to sing. But the teasing still danced at the corner of his mouth.
Yurei spun clumsily across the balcony, laughter catching in his throat, song spilling out half as words, half as sighs. His steps were crooked, light as drifting petals.
He caught the marble railing, breath hitching, yet never fully broke the melody.
"Kuradome-sama, colder than stone,"
藏心如石的藏王大人
(Cáng xīn rú shí de Cáng wáng dàren)
"Always finds me near Kyoren…~ in wrong time alone.~"
总在错时看见我和镜殿下
(Zǒng zài cuò shí kànjiàn wǒ hé jìng diànxià)
He laughed, voice cracking faintly at the end, then grabbed one of the curved golden stair rails. In a reckless moment, Yurei threw his head back, slid down from the upper hall to the ground floor, sleeve billowing behind like a falling banner.
Sozai's laughter followed—low, mischievous, half drunk.
Without a pause, he leapt to slide down beside him, black robe fluttering, hand braced lightly on the rail.
Landing behind Yurei, Sozai's voice teased back, mocking yet soft:
"But foxie, do you really mind?~"
狐狸殿下,真在意吗?
(Húlí diànxià, zhēn zàiyì ma?)
"Or you wish he'd come sooner, hold you tight, blind?"
还是想他早点来,抱紧你?
(Háishì xiǎng tā zǎodiǎn lái, bào jǐn nǐ?)
Yurei flushed deeply, ears twitching, stumbling as his voice caught:
"I didn't wait for him to see me like that!" he snapped between breathless laughter.
"Haha~ alright, alright… you didn't," Sozai teased, grin sly under his fringe.
But Yurei refused to stop. He spun under the red crystal chandelier, voice soft yet sharp as petals cut by wind:
"Cups keep empty, hearts stay full,"
杯空心满
(Bēi kōng xīn mǎn)
The light reflected in his gray eyes, turning them almost glassy.
Then, in perfect drunken unison, their voices tangled—breath meeting breath, heat mixing, hearts pounding:
Both:
"Kingdom's ribbon? Just pretty wool!!~"
锦带如丝,不过玩物
(Jǐn dài rú sī, bùguò wánwù)
Upstairs, under layers of silk and drunken haze, Kuradome stirred awake.
He'd fallen asleep hugging the golden wine bottle—pressing unconsciously close to Kyoren's side. The Ribbon King's slow, sleeping breaths brushed his hair.
Kuradome's eyes opened, unfocused, silver lashes wet from the sweat of drunken sleep.
Realization struck.
He blinked, embarrassed, and quietly moved away—fixing Kyoren's sleeping posture carefully, a gentleness he'd never show in daylight.
"Almost… got too close…"
His voice barely reached the hush of night.
He fixed the crown ribbon around his silver hair; the front part had twisted behind his head in sleep. His robe slipped, revealing the sharp lines of shoulder and collarbone, pale as moonlit marble.
He heard the song clearer now.
Kuradome walked silently to the balcony, eyes still heavy with sleep, annoyance mixing with something softer.
"Is that… Yurei and Sozai? Singing? Together? At this hour?"
His voice, though sharp, was still low and hoarse from wine.
Below, Yurei swayed, steps uneven. Yet he kept singing, grabbing a golden ribbon left hanging, wrapping it around his forehead like a mock crown:
"Laugh at the Crown ~ laugh at the thorns ~ "
笑王冠,也笑荆棘
(Xiào wángguān, yě xiào jīngjí)
He strutted forward like a drunken king, mocking the stiff grace Kuradome carried by birth.
Kuradome froze on the upper floor. His gaze darkened, brows furrowing—not from true anger, but old pride touched by something more tender, more tired.
For a moment, a ghost of memory passed through his eyes—of someone long gone… someone else who used to sing at night.
A faint, reluctant smile tugged at his mouth.
A softness he'd show no one.
Below, Sozai matched Yurei's game. He swept into a half bow, knee touched the marble, then lifted Yurei's hand with a flourish—his forehead barely brushing the back of Yurei's pale hand.
Yurei froze—gray ears flicking wildly, face blooming scarlet.
In reflex, he spun away, sleeve hiding his face.
The song softened, steps slowed, voices lowering into hushes of breath:
Yurei:
"Sweet rebellion ~ teasing tune…"
甜美反叛,戏谑旋律
(Tiánměi fǎnpàn, xìxuè xuànlǜ)
"Even kings can't rule what in darkness blooms."
王也治不了暗里开的花
(Wáng yě zhì bùliǎo àn lǐ kāi de huā)
Sozai's voice gentled, warmth leaking through the teasing:
"Yes… can't rule the heart that blooms for you…~"
治不了,为你开的心
(Zhì bùliǎo, wèi nǐ kāi de xīn)
Yurei froze. Breath caught in his throat; ears lowered. The words brushed something raw and unspoken.
Sozai's eyes widened faintly at what had slipped out—but he quickly hid it behind a sly tilt of his lips.
"I didn't mean it… drunk words," his gaze seemed to say, though heart betrayed him.
Yet the song continued, voice shaking but steady:
Yurei:
"Moon maple wine ~ pour till dry,"
月枫酒,喝到干
(Yuè fēng jiǔ, hē dào gān)
"Drunk on a rose-soft sigh…"
醉在玫瑰软叹里
(Zuì zài méiguī ruǎn tàn lǐ)
Sozai:
"Ribbons break~ crowns fall low,"
锦断冠落
(Jǐn duàn guān luò)
"Chocolate lips still burn and glow."
巧克力唇仍燃着光
(Qiǎokèlì chún réng ránzhe guāng)
Their laughter mixed, half breathless, half defiant.
Kuradome watched, arms folded, silver hair a little messy, ribbon tilting to the side.
Sleep still clouded his sharp gaze, but heat rose in his chest—an old ache he wouldn't name.
He opened his mouth, voice slipping out at last—rough, commanding:
"WHO IS SINGING AT THIS HOUR?!"
Below, Yurei and Sozai froze like startled fox and cat—ears pressed flat, eyes wide in identical panic.
[ End of Chapter 33 ]