Chapter 331 - Caught red handed

Chapter 331: Chapter 331 - Caught red handed

Dican remained standing beside his bed long after Jian stormed out.

His jaw throbbed where his younger brother had punched him, and when he touched the swelling with his fingertips, he winced. Jian certainly hadn’t held back. For someone who looked so harmless when he smiled, his little brother possessed a rather impressive temper.

Still, Dican couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

He had seen the moment Jian noticed the shadow outside the door. His younger brother had understood his warning almost immediately and continued the argument without exposing him. Dican was grateful for that, although he wished Jian hadn’t chosen such painful methods to express his displeasure.

He was considering whether to visit the healing wing for his jaw when a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Dican?"

His hand stopped.

Bian.

Dican looked toward the entrance. The doors were still slightly open, and through the gap he could see the familiar figure waiting outside.

"Come in."

Bian entered carrying a small tray with a crystal cup and a folded cloth. He was dressed in pale gold, his long hair falling neatly over his shoulders. His expression was full of concern, but Dican couldn’t help remembering the shadow he’d seen beneath the door only minutes earlier.

"Dican, I heard shouting. What happened?"

His gaze immediately settled on Dican’s face.

"Oh, goodness! Your jaw!"

Bian hurried forward and placed the tray on a nearby table. He reached up to touch Dican’s cheek, but Dican instinctively moved his head away.

Bian’s hand froze.

For a brief moment, hurt flashed across his face.

Dican forced himself to relax.

"It’s nothing. Jian and I had a disagreement."

"A disagreement?" Bian stared at the swelling. "He hit you?"

Dican gave a tired sigh. "He was upset about Nansich."

Bian’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.

"I see."

He lowered his hand and looked toward the door before continuing in a softer voice.

"Jian has always been very protective of his friends. But he shouldn’t have attacked you. You’re his elder brother."

Dican watched him carefully.

Bian hadn’t asked what the disagreement was about. He hadn’t even seemed surprised to hear Nansich’s name.

He already knew.

Dican sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his aching jaw.

"He thinks I’ve made a mistake."

Bian picked up the folded cloth and dampened it with cool water from the tray.

"Because of Nansich?"

"Yes. He says Nansich would never poison anyone."

Bian’s fingers tightened around the cloth.

"Jian doesn’t know everything that happened."

"Neither do I."

Bian looked up.

Dican continued, keeping his voice calm. "The substance was found in Nansich’s room, but I still don’t understand why he would want to poison me. We’ve barely spoken properly since he arrived."

For a moment, Bian said nothing.

Then he smiled sadly.

"Dican, you have such a kind heart. Even after someone tries to hurt you, you still want to believe the best of them."

Dican nearly laughed.

Kindhearted?

He had apparently spent five years threatening healers, neglecting his family and allowing innocent people to suffer because someone had filled his body with poison.

If that was kindness, he didn’t want to imagine what cruelty looked like.

Bian sat beside him and gently pressed the cool cloth against his swollen jaw.

"Jian has always trusted Nansich," he continued. "I understand why he’s upset. But that doesn’t mean Nansich is innocent. We can’t simply ignore what the guards discovered."

Dican allowed him to tend the injury.

"What do you think I should do?"

Bian glanced at him.

"About Nansich?"

Dican nodded.

Bian hesitated, appearing reluctant to offer an opinion.

"I don’t want to interfere with your decisions. You’re a prince, and you understand these matters better than I do."

Dican waited.

"But..." Bian lowered his eyes. "If he truly possessed Grayling poison, then keeping him in the palace might be dangerous. Perhaps he should be transferred somewhere more secure until the investigation is complete."

Dican’s expression remained unchanged, although his stomach tightened.

"Transferred?"

"Only temporarily. Somewhere he can’t hurt anyone."

"Such as?"

"The military detention facility outside the capital. I heard it’s very secure."

Dican looked at him.

The facility Bian mentioned was used for prisoners considered too dangerous to remain within the palace. Once transferred there, Nansich would be far beyond Dican’s immediate protection.

And Bian was suggesting it so gently, as though he were merely concerned about everyone’s safety.

Dican lowered his gaze.

"I’ll consider it."

Bian visibly relaxed.

"Thank you. I only want you to be safe."

Dican wondered how many times he’d heard those words over the past five years.

Perhaps hundreds.

Perhaps thousands.

He couldn’t remember.

Bian continued holding the cloth against his jaw, occasionally brushing his fingers over Dican’s cheek. Under normal circumstances, Dican would have found the attention comforting. Now every touch made his skin crawl.

He endured it.

He needed Bian to believe nothing had changed.

After a while, Bian set the cloth aside and studied him.

"You’ve been so tired lately."

"The healing treatment took more out of me than I expected."

"Are your headaches still bothering you?"

"Sometimes."

Bian’s eyes brightened with concern.

"Then you should rest. You’ve been worrying too much about everything."

Dican gave a faint smile.

"Perhaps."

Bian reached for the crystal cup on the tray.

"I brought you something warm. It’s a herbal drink. It should help you relax."

Dican’s gaze settled on the cup.

The liquid inside was pale amber, almost golden beneath the room’s light.

He remembered the little container Bian had taken from his clothes earlier, just before the guards interrupted them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"Thank you."

Bian smiled and handed him the cup.

Dican accepted it but didn’t drink.

Instead, he held it between his palms, pretending to enjoy its warmth.

Bian watched him for a moment.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. It’s just a little hot."

"Oh." Bian laughed softly. "Then let it cool."

Dican placed the cup beside him.

Bian’s smile remained, but his gaze lingered on the untouched drink.

Dican noticed.

He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

"I’m exhausted."

Bian immediately moved closer.

"Then lie down. I’ll stay with you."

Dican opened his eyes again.

"Actually, could you get me some water? My throat feels dry."

Bian glanced at the cup.

"You haven’t finished your drink."

"I’ll have it afterward."

There was a brief hesitation before Bian nodded.

"Of course."

He stood and crossed the room toward the water dispenser.

Dican watched him from beneath lowered lashes.

As Bian turned his back, Dican quietly activated the small recording crystal embedded in the bedside table. It was part of the room’s private security system, normally used only when the prince requested it.

He had activated its concealed visual recording function earlier, after noticing someone listening outside his door.

Now he was grateful he hadn’t turned it off.

Bian returned with a glass of water.

Dican drank a little, then handed it back.

"Thank you."

Bian placed the glass down and sat beside him again.

For several minutes, they remained together in silence.

Then Dican suddenly pressed his fingers against his forehead.

"Ah..."

Bian immediately leaned forward.

"Dican? What’s wrong?"

"My head."

"Is it hurting again?"

Dican nodded, deliberately allowing his expression to tighten.

"Worse than before."

Bian looked genuinely alarmed.

"Should I call the healers?"

"No." Dican caught his wrist. "Please. I don’t want to go back there."

Bian stopped.

Something shifted in his eyes.

Dican noticed it immediately.

He lowered his voice.

"I’ve spent enough time being examined. I just want to rest with you."

Bian’s expression softened.

"Of course, darling."

He gently stroked Dican’s hair.

Dican leaned against him, forcing himself to relax despite the disgust rising in his throat.

Bian held him for a while, murmuring reassurances. Then, when Dican’s breathing grew slower and his eyes appeared heavy, Bian carefully eased him back against the pillows.

"Rest for a moment. I’ll prepare something that will help."

Dican gave a faint nod.

He watched through half-closed eyes as Bian moved toward the dressing table.

At first, Bian simply rearranged a few objects.

Then he glanced over his shoulder.

Dican remained motionless.

Bian slipped a hand into the inner folds of his clothing.

A tiny crystal container appeared between his fingers.

Dican’s entire body went cold.

There it was.

The same container he’d seen before.

Bian opened it carefully.

Inside was a small quantity of thick, faintly purple liquid.

Dican recognized the color immediately.

Grayling sap.

His fingers curled beneath the blanket.

For one terrible moment, he could barely breathe.

The person he’d called his husband for five years was standing only a few steps away, preparing to put poison into his drink.

Bian approached the bedside table and lifted the untouched herbal cup.

He looked toward Dican again.

Dican kept his eyes closed.

A faint clicking sound followed as Bian tilted the container.

One drop fell into the drink.

Then another.

The liquid dissolved almost instantly.

Bian gently stirred the cup with a small crystal spoon, watching until the purple traces disappeared.

He returned the container to his clothing and approached the bed.

"Dican, darling?"

Dican didn’t move.

Bian smiled.

"Wake up for a moment. Drink this first, then you can sleep."

He sat beside him and lifted the cup toward his lips.

Dican opened his eyes.

For a second, he simply stared at the drink.

Five years.

Five years of missing memories, inexplicable devotion and decisions he couldn’t recognize as his own.

And this was how it had happened.

A sweet voice.

A gentle smile.

A cup offered by someone he trusted.

Dican slowly raised his hand.

Bian’s smile widened.

"That’s it. Just a little."

Instead of taking the cup, Dican caught Bian’s wrist.

Firmly.

Bian blinked.

"Dican?"

Dican sat upright.

His grip tightened.

"What’s in the cup?"

Bian’s smile faltered.

"What?"

"I asked you what’s in the cup."

"It’s just the herbal drink I brought you."

Dican stared at him.

"Then why did you add something to it?"

The color drained from Bian’s face.

For several seconds, neither moved.

Bian’s eyes flickered toward the cup, then back to Dican.

"I... I don’t understand."

Dican felt something inside him finally give way.

He had spent days questioning his own memories, wondering whether his instincts could be trusted and desperately searching for an explanation that didn’t involve the person who’d slept beside him for five years.

But now he’d watched Bian do it.

With his own eyes.

"Don’t lie to me."

His voice was frighteningly quiet.

Bian tried to pull his hand away.

Dican didn’t release him.

"Dican, you’re hurting me."

"What’s in the cup, Bian?"

"I told you! It’s medicine!"

"What medicine?"

Bian’s lips trembled.

"A calming medicine. You’ve been having headaches, and I only wanted to help—"

"Then why did you hide it?"

Bian fell silent.

Dican reached into the folds of Bian’s clothing with his free hand.

Bian immediately struggled.

"No! Dican, wait!"

Dican pulled out the tiny crystal container.

The remaining purple liquid shimmered faintly inside.

He stared at it.

His hand began trembling.

Bian stopped struggling.

"Dican..."

Dican slowly looked at him.

"Five years."

Bian’s expression changed.

"What?"

"Five years of missing memories. Five years of refusing medical examinations. Five years of my own healers being turned away because you told them I didn’t want to be tested."

Bian’s eyes widened.

Dican held up the container.

"And now this."

Bian shook his head desperately.

"You don’t understand. I did everything because I love you."

Dican felt nauseated.

"Love?"

His voice cracked.

"You call this love?"

Bian began crying.

"Please, listen to me. I was afraid of losing you. You were changing, and I didn’t know what else to do!"

Dican stared at him.

There it was.

Not a denial.

An excuse.

"You poisoned me."

Bian’s tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I never wanted to hurt you!"

"You poisoned me," Dican repeated, louder this time.

Bian flinched.

Dican’s jaw tightened painfully around the swelling Jian had left.

He remembered the healers’ reports, the purple discoloration in his eyes and the royal authorization he’d apparently signed to prevent anyone from examining him.

He remembered Grandpa Rue trembling when he approached.

And Nansich being dragged away because someone had planted poison in his room.

All of it.

Because of the person sitting in front of him.

Bian suddenly reached for his face.

"Dican, please. I love you. You know I love you."

Dican recoiled.

"Don’t touch me."

Bian froze.

Dican stood, pulling Bian upright by the wrist.

"Guards!"

The doors opened almost immediately.

Two royal soldiers entered and stopped in surprise at the sight before them.

Dican stood beside the bed, bare feet planted firmly against the floor, his robe hanging loosely from his shoulders. His face was pale with anger, and in one hand he held a small crystal container filled with purple liquid.

Bian was crying beside him.

"Your Highness?"

Dican pointed toward Bian.

"Arrest him."

The soldiers stared.

Bian went completely still.

"Dican...?"

Dican’s grip tightened around the container.

"Prince Consort Bian is to be detained under my direct authority. No one is permitted to speak with him or remove him without my permission."

One soldier hesitated.

"Your Highness, he is your mate—"

"I KNOW WHO HE IS!"

The shout made everyone flinch.

Dican drew a shaky breath.

Then he forced himself to speak more calmly.

"He has been administering an unidentified substance to me without my consent. I witnessed him adding it to my drink. The cup and this container are to be taken directly to the royal healing wing for examination."

Bian’s expression crumpled.

"No! Dican, please!"

He lunged toward him, but the soldiers immediately caught his arms.

"Dican! You can’t do this to me! I’m your husband!"

Dican looked at him.

For five years, those words had apparently been enough to make him surrender everything.

His judgment.

His authority.

His own body.

Now they meant nothing.

"Take him away."

Bian struggled desperately as the soldiers pulled him toward the door.

"Dican! Please, listen to me! I did it because I love you! I was afraid you’d leave me!"

Dican turned his face away.

He couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

The doors finally closed behind the struggling prince consort, leaving the room painfully quiet.

Dican stood motionless for several moments.

Then his strength seemed to disappear.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, still holding the tiny container.

His hands were shaking so badly that he had to grip it with both of them.

He’d found the truth.

He’d finally caught Bian.

But instead of relief, all he could feel was a terrible emptiness.

Five years of his life had been stolen from him, and the person responsible had smiled at him every morning, slept beside him every night and told him that he was loved.

Dican lowered his head.

For the first time since the investigation began, he no longer had to wonder whether Bian had poisoned him.

He knew.

And somehow, knowing hurt even more.