Bermuda

“Was there any discomfort while bathing?”

Hugo’s rough touch withdrew along with the wet towel once no more water dripped from the golden hair. At his voice, tinged with laughter, Leonardo—still huffing—brushed back his tangled bangs and turned around with a frown.

“If I say it was uncomfortable, what then? Will you attend to me?”

It was probably meant to be provocative, but Hugo nodded with a subtle smile.

“If you want.”

Countered with such composure, Leonardo lost his words and furrowed his brow as if displeased.

Meanwhile, Hugo turned the chair Leonardo was sitting on to the right so that his legs faced sideways. Then, picking up a dry towel hanging on the backrest, he knelt at Leonardo’s feet.

“What are you doing?”

Leonardo stared blankly, wondering what the other was up to. Taking advantage of his distraction, a large hand grasped his protruding Achilles tendon.

“Show me your soles. I want to check if there are any wounds.”

“Ah, there aren’t any! I’ll do it myself!”

Realizing the purpose, Leonardo visibly flustered and tensed his legs, resisting. However, Hugo forcibly lifted his heel and began to closely examine the wrinkled soles, soaked with water.

Leonardo’s toes curled in embarrassment. The robe wasn’t very long, so it had ridden up, and he had a bit of a complex about his feet, making this intense scrutiny extremely uncomfortable.

After all, his feet, which had been confined in military boots for years, were covered in small scars and traces of hardship. Hugo traced them with his eyes while gently rubbing with his thumb. Fortunately, no glass shards were visible.

Having quickly finished his inspection, he wrapped the wet feet and legs in the towel, gently wiping away the water droplets. Leonardo dazedly let him handle his legs, but concerned about His Excellency’s knees on the bare floor, he grabbed Hugo’s forearm and said:

“You’re a noble. Stand up. You don’t have to go this far.”

The awkwardness evident in his expression showed how uncomfortable he was with this situation. Although he usually didn’t seem to care about status or etiquette, it appeared he had his own strange standards.

“You shouldn’t kneel so carelessly. Especially as a duke...”

Hugo, staring into the bewildered golden eyes, recalled Leonardo’s reaction when he had kissed the back of his hand.

“Leonardo.”

Cutting himself off, he placed Leonardo’s foot on his thigh. Then he traced the smooth calf and bent knee with his towel-covered palm.

“If I’d intended to act like a noble in front of you, I wouldn’t have let you into this room in the first place.”

Feeling the leg stiffen, he carefully massaged it as if to relax it, but the increasing tension suggested it wasn’t working.

“I wouldn’t have allowed that ill-mannered way of speaking and those bad habits either.”

Hugo lowered his eyes and examined the other foot. Then he caressed the calf and knee in the same way, delicately wiping away the moisture. A gentle smile played on his lips as he did so. Although it sounded like a joke, Leonardo was momentarily struck dumb as he recalled his recent behavior.

Honestly, he’d done everything from kicking to slapping to punching Hugo... If His Excellency hadn’t overlooked it with great magnanimity, he could have been imprisoned for violating etiquette or for contempt.

Yet with this person, he’d used profanity whenever he was frustrated as a matter of course, and in daily life, he alone had ignored the honorifics everyone else used. And he had secretly enjoyed the special treatment that came from Hugo’s permissiveness. Leonardo asked, embarrassed:

“Would you... like me to use honorifics?”

Hugo glanced at him and answered with a chuckle:

“It’s fine. I’m already used to it. You’d probably feel uncomfortable if I told you to use them now.”

Then, as he moved up Leonardo’s legs with the towel, he added casually:

“You can be comfortable, but I’d like it if you spoke a bit more politely. It would be a shame to waste that pretty face you were born with.”

Leonardo’s lips curled in on themselves, knowing his speech wasn’t particularly refined. If someone else had said this, he would have ignored it or argued back, asking who they were to point it out, but when this person advised him, he felt like he should comply and reluctantly answered:

“...Okay.”

“And in front of a national hero, it doesn’t matter if you’re a noble or a duke. Rather, being able to serve directly is an honor. You only allow it for me.”

Hugo slightly lowered his head and rolled his eyes up to look at Leonardo. Meeting the blue eyes that looked particularly sharp at that angle, Leonardo took a small breath.

As he retraced the meaning of what he had allowed Hugo, the face with a quiet eye-smile asked as if the answer was already decided:

“Do I look without authority, kneeling before you?”

Leonardo focused on the contradictory question on Hugo’s lips while being conscious of the subtle touch playing between his thighs. He suddenly realized he could be pressured in this position. As the other had said, he would be the one “served” in this situation one way or another, yet he couldn’t understand why he felt intimidated.

Leonardo unconsciously swallowed.

“...No.”

The authority was overflowing to the point of seeming ready to devour him. Leonardo subtly pulled his legs back and twisted his waist.

At the honest answer, Hugo slightly raised the corner of his mouth, watching Leonardo’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. He lowered his head again and continued his kneading motions.

“That’s right, so don’t worry. Just keep it a secret between us.”

His touch gradually moved up, invading the underside of the slightly raised thigh. It was just an act of wiping away moisture, but the unhurried caress made the skin heat up.

Blood slowly rushed to his lower abdomen and center, close enough that the other could easily notice. Leonardo felt dizzy. He was curious about this person’s intentions.

Does he... usually do this much for others?

Was he really dedicating himself to Leonardo in the sense of service? It was unclear why even the word “service” felt so suggestive in this context. The soft flesh on the inside of his thighs had become particularly sensitive under a touch that seemed on the verge of crossing a line.

And this was fully transmitted to the one providing the service as well. The large hand firmly grasped the thigh as if to leave fingerprints and lifted it higher.

The soft towel pushed inward. By feel, the distance was now precarious.

Leonardo flinched and grabbed Hugo’s hand, with its protruding veins, with both of his own.

“Wait—how far are you going up?”

The forgotten sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Leonardo tried not to show it, but his face clearly displayed his flustered state. After a moment of silence, meeting each other’s eyes, Hugo looked down at his own hand caught under the robe.

It was a shameless, even stimulating sight. He let out a dry laugh and then withdrew his hand.

“I apologize. I was concentrating.”

As if he had finished his role, he shook it off and stood up, putting the two wet towels in a basket near the entrance. Leonardo stared blankly at his back, suddenly feeling the room temperature rise. He wasn’t sure if Agrizendro had raised the temperature or if his own subconscious had raised his body temperature.

Is he teasing me?

If he hadn’t stopped him in time, what would have happened? Strange imaginations sprouted wings and swelled. As his waist gradually grew stiff, Leonardo crossed his legs, uncomfortable. He had meant to ask when the trial would be held, but with the strange atmosphere, he couldn’t open his mouth at all.

While he was lost in thought, Hugo, who had levitated the pile of books on one side and was sliding them into the bookshelf in order, suddenly asked:

“Leo, do you feel stuffy in here?”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier you bathed because you felt stuffy. I was thinking we could go to the garden again when the rain stops. You didn’t get to eat the soufflé last time either.”

He seemed to be referring to when they had gone out together before. Leonardo tried to answer nonchalantly:

“Ah... yeah, that place was nice. No people, lots of flowers...”

As he said this, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. A red flush had risen to his neck and ears.

Damn, he looked like someone who’d just had perverted thoughts. Leonardo, who had awkwardly turned the chair to sit, hunched over and looked down at the ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) book on the side table again.

Hugo, who had finished organizing all but one book in front of Leonardo, pressed down on the chair’s backrest and looked down at the top of Leonardo’s head.

“Do you like flowers?”

“Well... I have no reason to dislike them.”

“Is that so?”

Hugo pinched and twisted the golden hair covering the reddened nape between his fingers. Leonardo tried hard to ignore the sensation brushing the back of his neck and, in the mirror, occasionally pretended not to notice his shoulders flinch.

Hugo, tormenting the hair that rippled like the sun, thought of the sunflowers that would fill his own garden.

“If you come to my mansion, there would be many more.”

“...”

“Much bigger and more splendid than here—nothing compared to it.”

Leonardo, who had been staring at the black letters on the thin pages, suddenly raised his head at the words that had drifted in. In the mirror, he saw that the blue-eyed man was already looking at him. The two, their eyes meeting, didn’t speak for a while. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Leonardo raised one eyebrow, simply thinking, What does he mean?

Feeling the silence stretch, Hugo took out a small artifact from his back pocket to change the mood. He placed it next to Leonardo’s hand.

“Come to think of it, Flynn asked me to check if this was yours. He said he hadn’t seen it before.”

Hugo’s hand slowly rested on Leonardo’s shoulder covered by the robe. Leonardo’s gaze moved from his shoulder to the artifact placed on the side table.

Soon, the pupils in his golden eyes dilated slightly.

“Where did this come from?”

“Well, I think he said it was mixed in with the luggage. Is it yours?”

A red devil pattern drawn on a black background. It was certainly Nero’s portable artifact.

“Yeah, it’s mine.”

Leonardo felt his heart drop for a moment, but keeping his composure as much as possible, he closed his fingers around the artifact as if hiding it. Hugo carefully observed his reaction. Then, as if not particularly concerned, he patted Leonardo’s shoulder.

“You should take better care of your belongings.”

“Did you... open it, by any chance?”

“No. It seems it can’t be opened except by the owner.”

It meant he had tried. Leonardo felt a chill run down his spine instantly. He wasn’t sure if this person knew about Nero’s existence, and if he did, how much he knew. It wasn’t certain, but he felt Hugo probably knew more than he’d expected.

The gaze pouring down on his head felt particularly stinging today. As Leonardo’s neck and shoulders grew noticeably tense, Hugo finally withdrew his hand and checked his wristwatch.

“I should be going now. I’ll come back at mealtime. Your clothes should be in the third drawer over there—change into those. Don’t open the window, and stay warm.”

Hugo headed toward the door with these simple instructions. Has it already been that long, Leonardo thought, answering him with a dazed expression:

“Oh, okay. Take care.”