Chapter 68: Will you marry me?

The place hadn’t seen sunlight in years and was dark and damp. Iron bars divided the pitch-black space into small cells, stretching on endlessly like a scene from a horror game, as if inhuman things could leap out at any moment and force you to run.

Lorcan’s regular fans all knew he was a bit afraid of ghosts.

Lorcan had been walking at the front, and none of the servants dared to overtake him. But when he paused slightly, Oisín sensed his hesitation, took the lantern from the butler, held his hand, and led him forward. "Please follow me."

Oisín was still in his uniform. His hand was dry and warm, and his military boots tapped a steady beat on the ground, as elegant as a knight guarding a treasure. They finally stopped in front of one cell, and Oisín looked around. "Here will do."

The butler carried a box full of the things nobles usually kept in cellars, including collars and whips. Lorcan’s set was spotless and untouched, and the whip had never been stained with a drop of blood or a scratch.

The butler took out a key to open the cell and nodded respectfully to Oisín. "General, please."

Normally this job would fall to the butler, but Oisín turned to Lorcan and suddenly asked, "Your Highness, may I make a request?"

Oisín was going to be locked in this dark, eerie place for the whole afternoon, and Lorcan felt guilty and answered at once. "Go ahead."

The general gave a slight smile, took the box from the butler, and held it out to Lorcan.

He said, "I’d prefer that you do it yourself."

Before Lorcan could fully understand, he was led into the cell in a daze and handed the chains and the collar. Then Oisín knelt in front of him, pushed his silver hair aside to show his slim neck, and said with a smile, "Go on."

"..."

Lorcan lowered his eyes, picked up the collar, adjusted it to be quite loose, and gently fastened it around Oisín’s neck. It had a small silver bell on it that rested lightly against his throat.

He adjusted the chain’s length to give Oisín room to move and reached for other things in the box.

But Oisín gently stopped him.

The general shook his head. "This won’t do. The first prince is an expert. He’ll see through it."

Of the three princes, Tadhg was without doubt the most indulgent in such things. He knew far more about how these items were used than Lorcan did.

Lorcan thought, That pervert is an expert? But he had to do as Oisín said, and he tightened the chain. When his fingers touched the collar’s buckle, he hesitated slightly.

If it was too tight, it would be uncomfortable.

Oisín held his hand.

He set the tightness with Lorcan’s fingers, pulling the buckle inward. At a certain point, Lorcan’s fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. As the collar tightened, his trembling got worse, until he could hardly hold the buckle, silently resisting.

Oisín sighed. "It’s nothing, Your Highness. I once hunted pirates in the 23rd District, a barren place where some planets had very thin air. I’ve also been on the highest plateau of the Insect Planet on a mission and came back unharmed. I won’t suffocate from this."

Lorcan’s voice shook too. "...That’s not the same."

He was shaking so badly that Oisín had to let go and fasten the collar himself.

Oisín stood up and turned around, trying to reassure his prince. "It’s really fine."

Lorcan refused to speak.

He silently took out the chain, the lightest kind, lined with soft fur to protect the skin, and impossible to tell apart from outside the cell.

When everything was ready, he took the dark red paint from the butler and began to apply it to the pure white uniform.

To make it more convincing, Oisín tore the hem of his clothes, ruffled his hair, and smeared blood-like paint at his temples. Lorcan dabbed water on his forehead to look like cold sweat. After a series of adjustments, the major general looked completely wrecked.

Lorcan’s breath caught.

A neatly uniformed, polite major general was already captivating, but what about one with a ruffled uniform, fast breathing, a black collar at his neck, and eyes shining with moisture?

Strange pictures flashed through Lorcan’s mind. He quickly pulled himself together, stepped back to the cell door, and looked over the scene carefully. He found no flaws.

The butler reminded him promptly. "The first prince’s message has arrived. He has already set out."

Lorcan nodded and pointed upward. "Then I’ll go up first."

The collar was a little uncomfortable for Oisín, but he didn’t show it much. He just said, "See you later, my prince."

Tadhg arrived at the Third Prince’s home twenty minutes later.

He exchanged pleasantries with Lorcan and pretended to care about his younger brother. Lorcan chatted about this and that and acted obedient. After sharing a cup of tea, Tadhg casually asked, "By the way, how did the wine I gave you the other day work?"

"It worked great," Lorcan clicked his tongue. "But Oisín is really a hard case. Hard to handle."

Tadhg chuckled. "How hard? May I see? ...Oh, I’m not trying to take your male. I’m just curious, since I haven’t tried that wine myself yet."

Lorcan answered, "Of course."

He led the first prince to the cellar. The butler dimmed the cell lights so it was dark and full of shadows. From far away, the flicker of an old oil lamp and the sound of wind made an eerie, ghostly mood.

They turned a few corners and saw Oisín’s cell from a distance. The major general had dried blood on his body and his hands tied behind his back. His head hung weakly, and now and then he held back a cough, with bloody foam rolling from the corner of his mouth. He looked utterly miserable.

The place was harsh, and the air smelled stale and rotten. Tadhg looked around in disgust and turned to say, "Let’s go."

As he climbed the steps, he remarked, "A rebellious female like that should be locked up in a place like this."

"..."

Tadhg turned his head. "Fionn, don’t you think so?"

Lorcan answered, "Of course. For the guilty, being locked in the cellar every day is the best outcome."

The first prince nodded, satisfied.

Where Tadhg couldn’t see, Lorcan clenched his sleeve with no expression.

If I hadn’t come, would Oisín have ended up like this?

A beautiful, elegant, dignified major general, kneeling in the dust, completely disgraced?

Tadhg’s visit had only been to make sure Oisín couldn’t cause trouble. He had no real affection for his younger brother, so after a few more words he hurried off.

Lorcan could hardly wait for him to leave. As soon as the ship vanished into the sky, he brought Oisín out at once. The major general showed no sign of discomfort. He calmly took off the collar and chains, and the first thing he said when he came out of the cellar and saw Lorcan was, "The weather is nice. Would you like some afternoon tea?"

The butler’s face twitched slightly.

Preparing afternoon tea for the Third Prince had always been the butler’s job.

Lorcan had no appetite for tea. He took Oisín back to his room, undid his collar to check, and found that the major general really did have a red mark on his neck, with the skin swollen and flushed.

Lorcan took the ointment he had prepared earlier and handed it to Oisín. When Oisín raised his arm, he let out a faint hiss.

Lorcan turned his head. "What’s wrong?"

Oisín: "It’s nothing... ouch, my arm hurts a little."

After hanging all afternoon, of course it hurt.

Lorcan paused, then took the ointment from his hand. "Let me do it."

Oisín obediently lifted his hair.

He lowered his eyes. The Third Prince was right in front of him, carefully putting ointment on his neck. His face was noble and handsome.

For the major general of the Third Army, a wound like this was hardly worth mentioning. His body had taken sword cuts, and his skin had been burned. Oisín couldn’t even be bothered to put ointment on his neck. Compared with the pain, he found the ointment getting onto his clothes more annoying.

But Lorcan looked deadly serious, as if he were doing the most important thing in the world.

He applied it carefully, as if afraid of hurting Oisín. His fingertips lightly touched the swollen skin, which felt both hot and itchy.

"Your Highness," Oisín suddenly said. The mood was just right, and he couldn’t help asking the Third Prince for something more. "Will you marry me?"

His voice was very soft, as if he were afraid of breaking the moment.

Oisín had asked this question twice before, and this was the third time. The first two times, he had offered his body and his family and laid out all his chips to avoid punishment on judgment day.

But this time was different. Oisín wasn’t thinking of anything else. He simply wanted to ask, Will you marry me?

Lorcan’s fingers paused slightly and his breath caught for a moment. He scooped up a big dab of ointment to cover it, then lowered his eyes and put it on the wound. Without answering directly, he said, "We won’t have a wedding."

According to the plot, they had to marry, but they couldn’t have a wedding.

In the eyes of the Zerg, that was probably the ultimate betrayal.

But Oisín didn’t care. He held Lorcan’s fingers, his blue eyes full of seriousness. "I know. I don’t want a wedding, but will you marry me?"

Lorcan turned his face away and murmured, "Yes."

He had crossed two worlds. In the original script, he was destined to hold Oisín’s hand and become his partner for life.