Eiden smiled faintly. "Yes. And I make it my business not to let rare things be wasted."
They stopped by a small stone bench near a cluster of white roses.
Eiden turned to face him, his expression soft but firm.
"I won't chain you, Anore. I won't touch you unless you ask me to. You will never owe me your body. You don't even owe me your gratitude. But while you're here, in Castemire, I will protect you and give you what no one else has—choices."
Anore's throat felt like sandpaper. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms.
"I don't know what to do with choices…" he murmured.
Eiden smiled, just a touch melancholy. "That's alright. You'll learn. I have time. And so do you."
For a moment, Anore didn't know where the ache in his chest came from. It wasn't sharp or cruel. It was something… warmer. Something that scared him far more than pain.
"…You're infuriating.." Anore muttered.
Eiden laughed, the sound rich and unbothered. "I'm told that often."
Evan was waiting for them by the grand staircase when they returned from their walk, holding a neatly folded bundle of fabric in his arms.
"Ah, young one.." Evan greeted, his smile soft. "I believe these belong to you now." He offered the stack to Anore with a reverent air, as though handing over a ceremonial robe rather than simple garments.
Anore stared at it.
It wasn't just a pair of night clothes, it was an entire set. A silken nightshirt, soft as air, with matching trousers in muted silver. Beneath that, more day clothes: crisp linen shirts, tailored high-waist trousers, and even—Anore's fingers twitched—underwear.
Underwear?!!
He shot Eiden a look, deadpan. "Did you pick these too?"
Eiden's lips quirked. "I certainly did. Someone has to ensure you don't walk around the estate improperly dressed. Would you prefer if Evan had chosen them?"
"I would prefer if I had chosen them.." Anore muttered, though his arms still clutched the clothes close, almost possessively.
Eiden pretended to consider that. "Hmm. That day will come. For now, you'll have to endure my taste." His gaze swept over Anore, clearly amused. "It suits you anyway."
Anore bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't argue that the quality was exquisite. Every fabric that touched his skin tonight had been soft, warm, and… kind. He hated how easily his body was getting used to that.
As they climbed the stairs, Evan paused near the top landing and gestured down the hall. "The young one's chambers have been arranged, Master."
Anore followed, confused. "Where are you putting me now?"
Eiden only smiled as they stopped before an elegantly carved door, the wood gleaming under the lantern light. Eiden opened it with a smooth push.
The room was…
Anore's breath caught.
It wasn't the lavish, suffocating type of room nobles locked their playthings in. It was… warm. The bed was large but simple, draped in soft quilts. A wide window overlooked the gardens, its curtains sheer and airy. There was a shelf built into the wall, currently empty, but waiting.
A desk sat by the corner with a clean notebook placed on top. And the walls—painted in a subtle ivory with soft golden trims—were unadorned, giving the room a quiet, breathable space.
"I chose this one for you.." Eiden said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "It's just across from mine." He tapped a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the room opposite. "Close enough so you'll never feel trapped and far enough so you can breathe."
Anore turned to look at him, mouth open, but no words came out.
Evan, standing nearby with a knowing smile, added, "The room was vacant for years, young one. Master hasn't felt the need to anyone so close to him..until now."
Anore's fingers curled into the fabric of the nightclothes pressed against his chest. Why did these simple gestures feel so suffocating? This wasn't how things were supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be given a room, let alone a choice. He was supposed to sleep on cold floors, with chains if necessary.
"This is unbelievable.." Anore muttered under his breath.
Eiden's grin widened. "I've been told that too."
Evan took a step closer, his voice gentle. "You may settle in for the night, little Anore. Should you need anything, there's a bellpull beside the bed. And rest assured—no one will come in unless you ask them to."
Anore's throat tightened.
"Rest well, young one." Evan gave a slight bow before retreating down the hall, his footsteps light.
Eiden lingered a moment longer. He stepped forward, stopping in front of Anore, and with the same maddening calm as always, placed a hand atop his head.
"You've done well today.." he said quietly, ruffling Anore's hair with an infuriating tenderness.
Anore swatted his hand away, flustered. "Stop treating me like a child."
"You're the one with the pout.." Eiden shot back, stepping into the hall with a chuckle. "Sleep well, Anore. I'll see you in the morning."
The door clicked shut, and Anore was alone in his room.
For a long while, he stood there, clutching his new clothes, staring at the empty shelf. He didn't know what filled a shelf like that. He didn't even know how to sleep in a bed without chains.
But it was his. For tonight, at least.
He sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling, and whispered to the empty air. "I don't understand why they're being so nice to me? Is this the calm before the storm? They want to me to let my guard down before they eat me up.."
Anore clenched his fists, since they were giving him all these nice stuff, he wouldn't say no, he'd use them to his advantage and use it to escape when the time was right.
Back in his room, things had taken a more serious turn to Eiden.
Eiden's fingers moved with measured precision as he spun the dial of the safe box, his expression devoid of its usual charm.
The soft click of the lock disengaging echoed in the stillness of his study. He pulled the heavy iron door open, revealing a singular, unassuming leather-bound notebook resting inside.
This was no ordinary book.
This was Eiden Castemire's ledger of secrets.
Every noble, every merchant, every official who had ever tried to play a hand in the kingdom's politics was written within these pages.
With names came sins—embezzlement, affairs, secret debts, illegitimate heirs—every skeleton carefully documented and filed away.
It was his armor in a court where alliances shifted like sand, where power was borrowed and never given.