Chapter 66: Pretending to be ill

It was a high-quality guest room with fine furniture and decorations. Even the paintings on the walls were by famous artists. The servants had changed the bedding to brand new white mattresses and covers and cleaned the room until every corner was spotless. Judging by the room alone, he was clearly a very honoured guest.

But Oisín didn’t care about these details and simply asked, "Where is His Highness?"

The butler kept his eyes forward. "I cannot say where His Highness is."

Oisín asked again, "When will His Highness call for me?"

He missed the scent of citrus.

The butler kept his professional manner. "I don’t know. It depends on His Highness’s wishes."

Oisín had no choice but to say, "Then I will wait here respectfully."

That respectful waiting lasted several days.

The honoured Third Prince seemed to have forgotten the guest in his home, but everything Oisín needed was provided without fail. At every mealtime, food was brought to his room. Oisín judged that it was all prepared to the prince’s own standard.

He wasn’t restricted either. Oisín tried walking out of the room, out of the palace, and finally stopped in the garden. Not one servant stopped him. They only bowed slightly as they passed and respectfully called him "General."

Oisín was sure he was the most honoured guest in the prince’s home, but this guest couldn’t meet his host, not even once.

During these days Oisín had stopped the butler several times to ask where Lorcan was, but the only answer he got was, "I’m sorry, but His Highness has not called for you. His schedule is private."

In the study, Lorcan let out a long sigh.

The System, perched on the windowsill watching a film, said, "Host, that’s your eight hundredth sigh today. Are you really not going to see the general?"

Lorcan answered, "Let’s wait a bit longer."

Lorcan felt that what he had done wasn’t right. A night together, then suddenly the cold shoulder, then comfort, then quickly taking away his power, behaving almost as if he were having a breakdown.

And at this stage of the novel there were a few lines that were outrageous but had to be said, which made it look even more like madness. He hadn’t worked out how to break the stalemate, so he buried his head in the sand and avoided everything.

These days, Lorcan stayed in the study, flipping through the original text again and again, getting more and more frustrated and jotting down scattered notes, but still with no clue.

However the plot went from here, it would be hard to stand.

First, in a few days, the first prince would visit and specifically ask to see Oisín, with many unspeakable scenes in between.

Then the Third Prince would take Oisín as a servant but hold no wedding or ceremony of any kind. He would roughly take over the proud eldest son of the Collins Family and treat him like a piece of goods.

Finally, although he had been pardoned through marriage, at the first prince’s request and with the Third Prince’s silent approval, Oisín would still have to attend the trial. He would have to wear handcuffs like a criminal, stand in the middle of the court, and listen to the judge read out charges he hadn’t committed, and admit his guilt in public under the eyes of the crowd.

"..."

Lorcan gripped the draft in his hand.

Taking his power, locking him up, humiliating him. After going through that whole chain of events, how could Oisín not hate him?

The original character was a villain, and Lorcan had always played him that way, but now that it had come to this, he still felt uneasy.

106 lay idly to one side and yawned. "Host, the Major General has sent you another message. Are you really not going to read it?"

Every morning and evening, Oisín still sent greetings on time, in warm, polite words, just as before, as if Lorcan hadn’t taken his power and locked him up, and as if he had no resentment at all.

The more Oisín was like this, the more uneasy Lorcan felt, and finally he just put the chat app aside, out of sight, out of mind.

They lived in the same mansion, but their paths had completely split apart, as if the closeness of those earlier days had been a passing illusion.

As the date of the first prince’s visit in the plot got closer, Lorcan still hadn’t said a single one of the stored-up lines, which made Lorcan restless and the System anxious too.

This standoff went on until one afternoon when the butler knocked at Lorcan’s door.

The silver-haired old gentleman bowed respectfully. "Your Highness, I must tell you that the Major General says he is not feeling well and may need a doctor."

Lorcan froze. "What’s wrong with him?"

The butler hesitated. "The Major General is unwilling to say more, but he seems to be in a lot of discomfort."

Lorcan frowned.

Oisín was very good at enduring things. If he showed even a hint of discomfort, it meant he was in severe pain.

He approved the doctor and told the butler to call a trusted army doctor of the Admiral’s. While waiting for the doctor, he found himself walking to the second floor, and at the end of the second-floor corridor was Oisín’s guest room.

The heavy wooden door was tightly closed, and a faint scent of iris drifted out. It was the scent of Oisín’s pheromones.

Unlike the bold, strong, overpowering pheromones of males, the pheromones of females were always subtle and faint. If Lorcan didn’t deliberately hold back his own, he couldn’t smell Oisín’s.

Lorcan crept up to the guest room door.

He hesitated. "106, go and take a look for me."

The System obediently floated into the room and sent back what it saw.

The room wasn’t lit and was completely dark. A human shape lay on the bed under a thick quilt, his face buried in the pillow, his body curled up unnaturally and trembling slightly.

Lorcan pinched his sleeve.

He had to follow the plot, but beyond that, he didn’t want Oisín to suffer.

106 hovered by the bed and quietly watched Oisín. "He looks very uncomfortable."

Lorcan stood at the door. "Can you tell what’s causing it?"

106: "I’ll try. Analysing now, trying to match... result..."

"Hmm?" It flew around in confusion. "The symptoms aren’t typical, and there’s no exact match for the illness. The system’s first guess is that it’s a problem caused by abnormal pheromones."

Lorcan stopped short.

A pheromone imbalance couldn’t be treated by a doctor. Only Lorcan, who had marked Oisín, could fix it.

This part wasn’t in the original text, but back then the problem with the addictive drug was much worse. Presumably Oisín wouldn’t complain even if he was uncomfortable.

On the screen, the general was in a drowsy sleep, apparently worn out by the pheromone problem. Lorcan took a deep breath and took hold of the handle.

The brass handle turned with a click as the lock released. A faint clack sounded, and light from the corridor seeped through the crack and lit the dim bedroom a little.

The Third Prince entered the bedroom.

Oisín quietly hid his arm, which was marked with needle pricks, and showed a slight smile.

He had given himself a small dose of the pheromone serum Cathal had given him, just enough for his body to burn off without causing side effects.

This serum would soothe males who needed comfort, but not Oisín. Poor-quality pheromones clashing with his body’s natural levels could cause regular high fevers, though nothing serious. The fever would go down after about two days as the drug wore off.

He needed to share information with the Third Prince and show his loyalty, and if he could also win a little closeness, that would be even better. But the Third Prince avoided him, so Oisín had been forced to do this.

His gamble had paid off. Lorcan not only cared for him but was very kind.

If it weren’t for his kindness, how else would he have dropped everything and appeared at his door as soon as he heard?

Lorcan had already reached the bedside.

He sat down gently on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel Oisín’s forehead. After touching the hot cheek, he paused, then slowly released his pheromones.

The scent of citrus filled the bedroom, not too strong, just enough to make the female comfortable without being too stimulating.

Lorcan was careful not to wake Oisín, so he was as gentle as possible and only lightly touched the general’s skin with his fingertips to pass on the pheromones. But halfway through, Oisín instinctively nuzzled closer and pressed his cheek into Lorcan’s palm.

Lorcan was startled, but saw that Oisín still had his eyes closed and his face flushed, and he didn’t seem to wake. Oisín pressed against his hand and nuzzled it like a pampered pet, again and again.

Although he knew it was a female’s instinct to take in pheromones, Lorcan couldn’t help chuckling softly. He gently pinched Oisín’s cheek and raised the strength of the pheromones. He stayed there for seven or eight minutes, until he felt the heat in his palm slowly fade, and then wanted to pull his hand back and leave.

He was held back.

Silently, a pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled his arm into an embrace. Oisín held on tight, like a dragon guarding its treasure. Looking down, Lorcan saw that the general had opened his eyes at some point. His blue eyes were still hazy, not fully awake. His gaze, unfocused, settled on Lorcan, as if he doubted who had come.

Lorcan breathed out in relief.

It seemed the general was still unwell and confused. In this state, Oisín wouldn’t question him or demand an explanation. So Lorcan leaned down and said softly, "General, you have a fever. It’s quite high."

"I’ve given you pheromones. You should feel better soon. The doctor is coming. Go back to sleep."

He tried to pull his arm away.

Oisín silently resisted and held on tighter.

So Lorcan let Oisín cling to him and said softly, "All right. Relax a little. I’m not leaving."

He sat down on the edge of the bed again and stared blankly into the darkness.

"..."

Oisín closed his eyes to hide the mixed feelings in them.

The Third Prince not only cares for me and has a soft heart, but he’s also so indulgent.

106 nudged its host. "Why not use this chance to say the lines you’ve been holding back? The first prince visits in two days."

"The general is out cold anyway, so you can say whatever you like. When he wakes up tomorrow, you won’t be able to say them."

The System had no further hopes for its host’s skills.

Lorcan: "Makes sense."

As soon as he nodded, 106 switched the screen and put the lines on it.

It was a humiliating script. In the original text, the Third Prince wasn’t satisfied with just taking Oisín as his consort and went out of his way to mock him with cruel words. Typical lines were: "Do you know what you’ll face when my brother comes tomorrow?" "Do you think offering the Collins Family will get you a wedding?" "Judgment day will go ahead as usual, you know."

A classic petty villain, thoroughly vile.

With one arm pinned and unable to move, Lorcan idly twisted a lock of silver hair and wound it around his fingers without thinking.

He glanced at the screen and spoke softly, as if afraid of waking the sleeper. "Oisín, my brother is coming tomorrow. Do you know what you’ll face?"

His voice was steady, full of sorrow and a touch of resignation.

"You offered the Collins Family, but there won’t be a wedding."

"Even judgment day... I can’t help you wipe it away. It will go ahead as usual."

His last words were barely a whisper, almost carried off by the wind.

"..."

Oisín sighed inwardly. So this is why you’ve been avoiding me?

The first prince feared him, and the gossip wasn’t enough to ease his mind, so he would inevitably come to the prince’s home again, and humiliation would be waiting. Oisín had already expected it.

The Third Prince was being watched. He couldn’t show kindness to Oisín, and a wedding was out of the question.

As for judgment day, Colm and his family were pushing hard and were already unhappy that Oisín had escaped punishment. If a light trial could calm them, it was a small price to pay and still within what he had expected.

Was Lorcan really troubled by such small matters?

Oisín found it hard to describe how he felt. His lips parted. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t, and his heart was heavy with ache and bitterness. He desperately wanted to hold and kiss this male, to lose himself in the scent of citrus, to touch, to cling, to wrap around him until death. He badly wanted to fill the collapsed, empty hollow inside himself.

But he couldn’t.

He was still pretending to be ill, and it would scare Lorcan.

Yet the citrus scent beside him was so sweet. Oisín’s fingers twitched, and he leaned closer without being able to stop himself. He nestled against Lorcan and felt the warmth of his skin, and finally he gently raised his hand and put it around the male’s waist, making a faint copy of an embrace.