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warnings; violence; blood, gore; mention of abuse, torture

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"Call for us...you say? Must be about the approval of the Vestalis Project." Loren let go of Y/n, making him tumble on the floor.

The Emperor called them—the Emperor had summoned them to the palace. This usually meant a few things: number one, it was to discuss an upcoming plan or project. Number two: the person was of an extremely high social standing and was visiting as a guest. And number three...

They were summoned because the Emperor wanted to see them.

Loren thought it was about the Vestalis Family Project—to bring both stakeholders there and to discuss the legitimacy of the arrangement and the marriage. He merely seemed annoyed he had been interrupted; and not a single bit worried.

But Y/n knew.

Dion was—

Is Dion calling me? Is Dion the Emperor? Or is it like Loren said—summoning us just for the approval of the project..?

"You're in luck this time," Loren hissed, "you won't be so lucky next time."

Y/n was petrified—was Dion mad at him? Did Dion hate him? Was this his chance to escape? Had the chance come closer than he expected? He had anticipated the ball, but—

"See if there's any make-up to cover your wounds," Loren said disdainfully, "actually, forget it. The Emperor won't be giving you a glance. Why would he want to look at someone like you? I'm lucky to get an audience with him."

Loren was right. Why would the Emperor want to look for him? The Emperor—assuming he was Dion—was powerful. Astonishingly handsome; the wealthiest man in the Empire. And for him to take interest in a mere person like Y/n—

Y/n could feel the doubt eating away at his mind. He could feel his confidence spiraling down. Loren was right. He looked pathetic. There was dried blood on his cracked lips. His hair was messy—there were bruises blossoming on his body. No matter how someone saw it, he did not look worthy to stand in front of nobility—much less the Emperor.

His reflection seemed to incessantly taunt him: on one hand, he wanted to look cheerful and presentable in front of Dion—on the other hand, he wanted to rip himself into shreds to get rid of Loren's dirty desire. His features seemed to get increasingly warped as he stared at it.

No. Y/n wanted Dion. Y/n wanted Dion who had told him he was beautiful, handsome, mesmerizing. He wanted to see his body from another perspective. Y/n wanted to see the original Soleil take his body back from him and wear it like how it should have been worn: perhaps then he could see through Dion's eyes, his beauty that Y/n could not see even when he tried.

"Get in." Y/n was pushed into the carriage, as he fumbled with his fingers. He let out a shuddering sigh, watching as the manor became a tiny blip in the distance.

He was still...fortunate.

He hadn't died yet.

Aria had not met him yet.

Loren had yet to inform his family members that the deal was now going to be underway—

If Dion's affections were unwavering, he still had a chance.

But if Dion detested him for lying..

Somehow the thought of Dion hating him made his heart shatter into a million pieces. It was unbearable to think of it: even worse than death. If Dion hated him—

Y/n trembled slightly and wrapped his arms around himself.

...Then it was better to just not live at all.

The journey passed in silence. Y/n watched the streets roll by—giggling children, running carefree with sugary bread in their hands. Nobles shopping near the boutiques, gossiping away lightly. Shop-owners looked in satisfaction at the money they had earned. It all seemed so trivial: while Y/n was making the journey that would determine his fate.

It's all the novel's fault. And I haven't heard of any news of the Grand Duke or Aria meeting. Has it been delayed, because of me? Loren did mention that.

All too soon, the journey reached a halt. Y/n was escorted briefly to the ballroom: all while trying to examine his surroundings. The palace was like a golden cage: so vast and expansive those who entered were bound to get lost. There was gold and silver surrounding every inch: plenty of mana stones embedded in the walls. Artwork decorating the walls, even priceless antiques. Even Loren seemed to greedily eye it. Even Dion's manor paled in comparison.

Y/n noticed the person that brought him here seems to be mindful of him. When Y/n glanced at him, he seemed to avoid eye contact—and even his touch was fleeting, like he was intentionally trying not to hurt Y/n. Loren, on the other hand...

"Let go of me! You bastards! Pulling me like that! Just wait until the Emperor hears of this!"

"Right. Until the Emperor hears of this.." One of the knights muttered, "you'll be a goner—Lord Vestalis was specifically told to be brought unharmed, but here he is looking like a broken mess."

Ah.

Y/n's heart fluttered as red flushed on his ears.

It was Dion.

There was no doubt about that.

And if Dion still went out of his way to make an effort to give such instructions..

No.

Y/n must not get his hopes high yet, until it was confirmed.

Loren seemed puzzled at the guard's words—he chose to ignore it, as he angrily threw the door open.

The presence of the Emperor was immensely strong. Perhaps it was the murderous intentions emanating off him—his clear desire to kill.

It was all so powerful: the mana drifting off him in waves, his presence. The Emperor of the Nation was the one closest to divinity; the one chosen by God to rule. And now it was so clear.

Y/n and Loren were forced to kneel from the pressure.

Y/n knelt shakily, feeling pain course through his knees as his bruised legs were forced upon the ground. He bowed his head in the presence of the Emperor, unable to see his face.

"...Soleil Vestalis."

That voice.

"Lift your face. Allow me to see it." The tone was soft. Gentle. Filled with relief and happiness—like an urge had finally been curbed.

Y/n did: slowly and deliberately. He knew that voice anywhere. His theory proved to be right, as he stared at those golden eyes he loved.

...Dion was the Emperor.

The same person whose voice had commanded deaths of thousands was the same person whose voice comforted him.

That fact that Dion was Emperor should have terrified him—

Yet Y/n moved on instinct: without thinking.

His feet moved towards Dion—and slung his arms around him. His chest sagged with relief—as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was aware of how his heart seemed to swell—bursting with indecipherable emotions.

Dion.

Finally—finally.

He was the one who reached out to Dion—yet when Dion raised his hand—

Y/n flinched.

He hadn't meant to.

But at that moment; he thought of Loren's hits; his skin touched by Loren, impure, dirtiest disgusting.

Dion froze.

"Hands off the Emperor!" A knight immediately yelled, but Dion simply raised a hand to stop him, standing up. His eyes were still on Y/n, as if watching his every move. He seemed alert; somehow. Suddenly observing Y/n. There was a mana shield around them, Y/n noticed. No one could see what was happening. No one would know of the things they spoke of in complete privacy.

"Soleil—Y/n is my beloved. You are not to touch him." He warned softly, a note of finality in his voice. He fixed his attention back on Y/n, eyes holding that same adoration and devotion.

It had only been a few days. Yet...

Y/n recovered from his fear as he buried his face in the crook of Dion's neck, inhaling that familiar scent, sinking in that familiar embrace. He felt lips on his neck—arms wrapping around his waist in a brief motion.

This was Dion. Dion would never hurt him .

Dion broke away, studying Y/n with the familiar intensity he had grown accustomed to. He stroked his face like Y/n was a butterfly; as if he was scared Y/n would crack, or Y/n would simply melt.

"You are hurt—bruises on your body. Cuts. Haggardness. You flinched when I reached out for you.." He observed, — a hint of bloodlust in his tone — "He...he did this to you?" Y/n looked to see a murderous gaze focused on Loren—who was confused and angry. Loren had thought they were here to discuss the project, but—

Y/n shook his head, not knowing what to say. But Dion would get him—Dion would understand him. It was like they were two souls intermingled with each other—of the same mold. Both with apathetic elegance; fervent desire for each other.

"You did not know how much I missed you—how much I craved your voice...your touch..and the mere sight of you. I searched, Y/n. I spent every waking moment searching..." Dion whispered, "to think you were Soleil...taken away from me by these vermin." The grip tightened.

"Dion—you are..." Y/n could find no words to express how terrified—yet happy to see Dion again. Dion was safe. Dion managed to survive that mana explosion.

"...Your Majesty." Y/n corrected softly, "I...I can't express how truly grateful I am that you are safe. I apologize for my broken promise—and the lie about my name. I didn't mean it."

Dion brushed aside Y/n's hair to inspect his face. Dion stayed silent throughout—he didn't appear to be mad.

"I was searching, Y/n." Dion said softly, "but it seemed you lied to me. Your name...did you fake it on purpose?"

Y/n's throat felt dry, as he struggled to find words to speak.

"I...Y/n is the name I tell to strangers. And.." Y/n twiddled with fingers, "I did not want your opinion of me to change. Because I'm an illegitimate child. People always—they hate people of dirty bloodlines. I did not...want you to hate me."

Dion stared intently at him, a smile on his lips. His hands brushed Y/n's cheeks tenderly, and Y/n was half petrified, half anticipating.

"You always say the things that I love to hear. Would they dare hate you, once you are my Adviser? You said you needed a job. You said you wanted a job. All I want you is to be by my side. If it requires you being my Advisor, so be it. You are intelligent enough. You have the qualifications."

"I did not know you were Emperor."

Y/n swallowed. This was all too much to take in.

A job, yes. To escape. But the Advisor? How...was that possible? Was Y/n even qualified to take on such a job?

"I suppose I didn't tell you, yes." Dion whispered softly, cradling Y/n, "and I apologize for that. But my feelings for you are as strong as ever: I adore you, Y/n. It broke my heart when you were taken away..and I want you to be my Advisor. There's no one else as suited for this position as you. For anything you are not clear about, there will be people to assist you. But will you—will you be willing to be my advisor?"

The answer fell from his lips before Y/n it.

"Yes."

Dion's eyes were filled with delight. He gave Y/n one last kiss on his forehead before the shield started to dissipate, and Y/n glanced at a very confused and angry Loren.

Loren fidgeted. He was still kneeling—rather, he was forced to. The knight had placed a knee on him. Profanities spilled from his lips—as he opened his mouth.

"You're just like your mother aren't you, Soleil," He spat, "seducing men...even the Emperor! You just wanted to escape the project, didn't you? To escape fate? Your feelings for that cruel tyrant aren't even real!"

There was deafening silence. The knights seemed to stiffen—as if waiting for the impending wrath of Dion to descend on Loren. Even from the start, though Dion had been infinitely sweet and gentle with Loren, there was always an emotion he was desperately holding back: his rage. For the sake of Y/n, he had not wanted to show his ugly emotions, but Loren was testing his patience. It seemed like a dam was about to break—the air grew suffocating and Y/n felt goosebumps when Dion paused his movements.

"And—now...about Loren," Dion's voice was toneless, as if he was speaking about a mere object. "he is saying too much. Does he even deserve to have a tongue at all? Even dogs serve better than him." Dion glanced at Loren. His voice was still cold. Devoid of emotion. The very opposite from the tenderness he had shown Y/n. The darkness had grown tenfold.

"I wouldn't want your eyes to be tainted with such a gruesome sight," Dion sighed heavily, the bloodlust returning to his tone, "I can see how much he has done to you. And how dare he? Playing around with something that belongs to me—cruelly hurting you like that. Even death is too much of a lighter punishment." Dion indicated to a servant, the hold on Y/n becoming tighter.

"Hand me my sword."

Dion wrapped his coat around Y/n's trembling shoulders.

"Close your eyes," He told Y/n softly, "I wouldn't want to..."

Y/n dutifully shut his eyes. The coat seemed to surround him with warmth: draining the fear of him. By right, he should've been scared. Terrified. Dion was the Emperor. Depicted in the books to be ruthless. Cold. A tyrant who was immensely powerful that no one could have a chance of beating..

"I suppose I'll start with your tongue." Dion murmured under his breath, "so you wouldn't ever need to spill any nonsense. Perhaps your limbs next: for daring to touch—to hurt Y/n..for daring to go with this arrangement."

There was scream after scream.

After a while, Y/n had grown numb to Loren's bloodcurdling shrieks. He swallowed. So this was what Dion was capable of—

It was wilder—more gruesome than he had thought.

The shrieks stopped after a while—and when Y/n peeked, it was merciless.

Loren was still alive. Whenever he had reached the limit, and was about to die, Dion used his mana to bring him back to the brink of death: before mercilessly inflicting the same pain on him once more. Dion had even silenced him with a simple mana spell afterwards: so Loren suffered in excruciating silence.

It was horrific. Loren was reduced to a mere toy of torture. He writhed around in pain: and when Y/n caught his eye—

Loren glared at him so intensely that Y/n immediately froze.

Those eyes staring at him.

Ready to kill.

"Do you want me to do your eyes next?"

The cold threat made Loren shake his head profusely. He was sweating profusely: blood splattered all around the red carpets: limbs bloodied and his tongue even cut off, laying loosely at the side.

"...Dion." Y/n called in a cracked voice. It wasn't that he was a saint and wanted Loren to be pardoned. No—Y/n's hatred was second only to Dion's. He just didn't want Dion to lose himself in the crazed mess and be caught in another mana explosion.

"Dion," He reasoned softly , "you don't have to do it now. Just—come back to my side. Don't wear yourself out. The mana spells will take a huge toll on your body."

Only after Y/n spoke, Dion stopped. He called for the servants to drag Loren's body down to the prison basement. He returned to Y/n's side, and Y/n merely leant against him, tired and exhausted after what had transpired. It was hard to believe he had somehow evaded fate. Somehow had stopped the progression of the novel. Somehow had made it back to Dion.

And apparently he was the Royal advisor now.

Y/n could feel himself dozing off—a habit he only did when he was around Dion. When he felt safe enough to let his guard down.

Yet a small worry nagged at the corner of his mind.

If Loren was dead and Y/n now was at a position unreachable by all, what did that mean for the novel? How would it progress—how would Aria obtain the funds to meet the Duke—?

A soft hand carded through his hair: a reassuring gesture. It felt similar to the first night Y/n shared with Dion.

"Sleep, my dear Y/n—my dear advisor.." Dion murmured, "as my advisor, Y/n, you have to be with me til death do us part."

Longest chapter ever written so far! (2.6k words) with that, in two days I've successfully reunited them !! and Y/n is finally made the advisor. One more chapter before the beginner arc is over and on to the next arc!

How was it? Hope it was fine, the original version was so cringe ugh

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