Scandalous Wedding Chapter 2.2

To Asha, everything was transient. Sadness at separation was quickly replaced by the excitement of new surroundings, adapting easily and forgetting anything deemed unnecessary. He was simple, pragmatic, focused solely on the present.

In other words, he was utterly clueless.

It’s only now that I can admit it, but Asha’s four-year “demotion” was an act of spite.

The day before Asha’s reassignment, while Asha dozed in the reception room, Kiel had made him a once-in-a-lifetime offer:

Marry me.

He hadn’t bothered with flowery language, declarations of wanting to wake up next to him, or sharing breakfast together. He’d simply said, Marry me.

But Asha hadn’t heard him. He’d been asleep.

It was true that Kiel had been gathering information, eliminating Asha’s potential marriage prospects, and orchestrating Asha’s separation from Aira, which necessitated the reassignment. But the primary motivation was indignation.

Kiel had spent sleepless nights agonizing over how to propose, choosing the clearest, most unambiguous words possible, only for Asha to fall asleep.

The shock had been profound.

For the past four years, the memory had haunted Kiel’s dreams, causing him to wake up in a fury. Even now, the thought made him seethe. He pressed his fingers into Asha’s soft cheek, a sinister whisper escaping his smiling lips.

“You’re so cute, I want to bite you.”

He’d sent Asha away to teach him a lesson, and Asha, oblivious to the punishment, had happily spent his time hunting, fishing, making nets, and cooking.

After the “sleeping incident,” Kiel had arranged Asha’s transfer to the Capital Defense Force, partly to engineer a breakup with Aira, partly to give Asha a taste of hardship. Asha, however, had simply adapted to his new environment, never once visiting the palace.

Infuriated, Kiel had then assigned him to the border, where Asha, claiming to be too busy, stopped sending letters altogether. Kiel, though already aware of Asha’s obliviousness, was so offended by this perceived slight that he’d stopped writing as well, leading to a complete communication breakdown.

He’d stubbornly refused to initiate contact, until, less than ten days later, nightmares of another man stealing his “bun” plagued his sleep. He’d abandoned his pride and rushed to the border, only to find Asha hosting a wild boar barbecue.

Asha, delighted with his barehanded kill, announced his intention to hunt a mountain goat next. Enraged, Kiel had stormed the barbecue, issuing three-month pay cuts to all attendees.

Fuming, Kiel returned to the capital, confined to bed for three days with anger-induced illness. Let’s see how long you last, he’d thought, only for Asha to endure for over a year. Hoping to rekindle some longing, Kiel sent a letter on Asha’s birthday, asking after his well-being and whether he missed him or wanted to return. Asha’s infuriating reply stated that he was content where he was.

So, Kiel had sent him to a remote rural region. There, Asha took up farming. Kiel understood that the small, peaceful town offered little in the way of crime or excitement, leaving the defense force with ample free time. But cultivating corn in a small plot beside his quarters?

When Asha sent him dried corn as a gift, proudly proclaiming it homegrown, Kiel almost lost it. Desperate after so long apart, he’d sent Asha a ring bearing the Imperial seal for his birthday, along with a letter hinting at his desire for Asha’s return. Asha, however, replied that he was enjoying his time and wished to stay longer. He thanked Kiel for the ring, but said it didn’t fit.

Kiel was devastated.

Even between close friends, a ring implied a proposal.

Of course, there were other reasons for a man to receive a ring. Noblemen received rings bearing their family crest from their fathers upon reaching adulthood. Knights exchanged rings with comrades who’d fought alongside them in life-or-death situations.

But Asha was already an adult, and Kiel was neither his father nor a fellow knight. Furthermore, it wasn’t a ring bearing the Chester family crest or a knightly order’s insignia, but one with the Imperial seal.

Asha should have understood. But he genuinely hadn’t. Not out of malice, but pure, unadulterated cluelessness.

So, Kiel sent him to the southernmost tip of the continent. And Asha returned having learned how to fish.

Kiel finally understood the exasperation his father had felt.

He was going insane.

“Are you really that oblivious, or are you pretending?”

“To what?”

“You’re intelligent enough to decipher complex ancient texts and legal documents. Why can’t you understand simple conversation?” Frustrated, Kiel flicked Asha’s forehead. Asha rubbed the spot, frowning.

“I’ve been reading ancient texts since I was a child. My uncle started teaching me dead languages, ancient languages, and even divine scripts as soon as he decided I should become a priest.”

Having received an elite education from his High Priest uncle, Asha was exceptionally skilled at deciphering ancient texts. Kiel, having witnessed Asha’s upbringing, knew he’d been reading these texts since the age of five.

While Asha’s aspirations to become a knight meant his skills were underutilized, he was still considered one of the foremost experts in deciphering pre-Imperial dead languages, early Imperial ancient languages, and divine scripts used by priests, surpassed only by a few high-ranking priests.

Kiel wondered if Asha’s constant exposure to strange scripts from a young age had somehow impaired his ability to understand normal speech.

Looking at the perpetually spaced-out Asha, Kiel said mischievously, “Do you want to go back to the countryside? I can send you to a deserted island this time.”

Asha considered this for a moment, then frowned slightly. “That wouldn’t be…”

“…Wouldn’t be what?”

“…So bad.”

While Asha seemed to find the prospect of living on a deserted island appealing, Kiel found it horrifying.

He’d finally brought Asha back to the capital, and despite his frustration, he couldn’t bear to send him away again.

So, he decided to surrender. He’d found what he needed, and his “Eliminate Marriage Candidates” operation had been successful. His sister, Aira, had conveniently produced a son immediately after her marriage, and he’d dealt with the most significant obstacles: Marquis Chester and his son.

The path was clear.

It was finally time to execute the plan he’d been dreaming of for the past four years, or rather, the past seventeen years.

It had been a long and arduous journey. Ten years spent searching for information, as his father had only hinted at possibilities without providing concrete details. Another three years spent tracking down specific documents and ancient texts, leading him to four irrelevant tablets.

Just as he was about to lose hope, he’d found a clue about the crucial tablet four years ago. He’d relentlessly pursued it and finally obtained it.

The time, money, and effort he’d invested in finding the tablet deserved recognition. No one else could have done it. It was a testament to his unique abilities. His deceased father must have known he would succeed when he tasked him with retrieving the lost Imperial treasure.

“Asha.”

“Yes.”

“It’s time you got married, don’t you think?” Kiel said gently, sensing the time was right. Asha was of age, and everything was in place. All that remained was to reach out and grasp it.

“I suppose so. Everyone else has. But aren’t you more concerned about yourself, Kiel? I’m only twenty-four, but you’re thirty.”

Kiel beamed at the expected response. Asha was adorable and surprisingly insightful when he gave the answers Kiel wanted.

Suddenly imagining steam rising from Asha’s fair cheeks, Kiel reached out, cupped Asha’s face, and kissed him. Then, he casually uttered the words he’d kept buried for so long.

“Let’s get married.”

“Okay.”

Kiel, aiming for a casual proposal to avoid awkwardness, was startled by Asha’s immediate agreement. It was so unexpected, he was more bewildered than happy. He stared at Asha, unsure if he’d understood. Asha, as if just remembering something, snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right. I was talking about marriage with Esael on the way here. He suggested we hold a banquet.”

Taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation, Kiel sat up and asked, “A banquet already?”

“Isn’t it the season for banquets?”

There was no specific season for banquets. They were avoided during periods of mourning, famine, war, or natural disasters, but the Frisdale Empire had enjoyed peace and prosperity for several years. There was no reason not to hold a banquet.

Still, a banquet was a bit…sudden. Kiel was taken aback, but not displeased.

“I can hold a banquet whenever I want. Yes, a banquet is perfect for a marriage announcement. Very natural.”

A grand banquet, inviting all the nobles in the capital, would be the ideal setting to unveil the newly discovered tablet and announce his marriage to Asha, preempting any opposition. There would be rumors, of course, but once the announcement was made, everyone would fall in line. No one would dare oppose a union between the Imperial family and House Chester.

Things were progressing much faster and smoother than expected. Thrilled, Kiel tried to calm his racing heart and looked at Asha.

Asha seemed bewildered by the intensity in Kiel’s eyes, which clearly asked, When and how should we make the announcement?

“…A marriage announcement?”

“A banquet is for a marriage announcement. A grand, spectacular one that will silence everyone.”

Kiel savored the thought of the shock and awe that would ripple through the banquet hall. His seventeen-year obsession was about to bear fruit. The little bun from House Chester would finally become a permanent resident of the Imperial Palace. He was practically giddy with excitement, until Asha threw a bucket of cold water on him.

“Uh…do we have to get married right away?”

“…What?”

“I told Esael I wanted to try dating before marriage, and he suggested a banquet to meet people. But announcing our marriage right away…that’s a bit much.”

Kiel finally realized the disconnect. Asha’s banquet wasn’t for a marriage announcement, but for finding a marriage partner. It was essentially a mating ritual.

“You want to hold a banquet…to find someone to marry?”

“Yes.” Asha looked at him as if he’d asked the most obvious question.

Kiel slumped. Of course. He should have known. Asha was too quick to agree. He’d been thinking about something completely different.

He wasn’t even angry anymore. There was no point.

“A banquet won’t help you find anyone. All the eligible ladies are already married or engaged.”

“Engagements can be broken. Like mine was.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?”

Because Kiel, unable to amend Imperial law, had used a city ordinance to declare engagements unbreakable.

He’d subtly pressured every eligible lady over sixteen in the capital to marry, created a social atmosphere encouraging engagements for girls between fourteen and fifteen, and then declared engagements sacred and legally unbreakable.

While it was only an ordinance, and thus not legally binding, everyone knew Kiel’s wrath was far more terrifying than any legal consequences.

Therefore, no one in the capital would dare break off an engagement during Kiel’s reign. While those in the countryside were technically exempt, Kiel had already made arrangements with influential families in those regions.

So, even if Asha held a banquet every day of the year, he wouldn’t find a spouse.

Because there weren’t any.

Momentarily deflated, Kiel quickly recovered. This wasn’t a setback, but an opportunity.

“Alright, fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll hold a banquet for you.”

“…What?”

“We’ll invite every lady in the capital. I need to find a bride too.”

“Oh, perfect! We can have a double wedding!” Asha said cheerfully. “We can do it all at once at the temple, save some money.”

Kiel felt a surge of genuine murderous intent. Asha’s obliviousness was almost malicious at this point.

“…You wanted a double wedding?”

“Not particularly, but it would be nice with you, Kiel. Two couples at once, saves money and effort.”

Even better would be just the two of us getting married, Kiel thought, but kept the thought to himself. Asha wouldn’t understand anyway.

“Fine. Let’s start preparing right away. Three days should be enough, right?”

“…Three days?”

“The sooner the better. Three days is enough time to tailor clothes and send invitations. You should stay at the palace until then. No need to travel back and forth.” Kiel intended to keep Asha at the palace.

Asha readily agreed. “If you insist, Kiel. I’ll let them know at the mansion that I’ll be back in three days.”

“Good boy.”

Satisfied with this small victory, Kiel lay back down and pulled Asha closer by the nape of his neck. Asha, now lying beside him, asked, “Are you sleeping here?”

“Yes.”

“But you said we were too old to share a bed.” Asha seemed to remember Kiel’s previous excuses for not sharing a bed during his visits.

“Too old? You’re still a baby.”

“A baby? I’m twenty-four. I’m getting married soon.”

The word “marriage” made Kiel frown again.

“Now, go to sleep, little bun.”

Asha giggled at the nickname, which he hadn’t heard in a while. “That’s such an old nickname.”

“Then, little chick?”

Asha laughed, remembering the nickname’s origin. Kiel, much taller even as a child, would dangle treats in front of him, and Asha would follow him around, mouth open, like a baby bird. Kiel, his mood improving, smiled.

“Little bun, little chick, baby bird, chickie, cub, roly-poly…which one do you prefer?”

“Hmm, baby bird is the least embarrassing.”

“Then baby bird it is. I like that too. Baby bird, chick, little chick. Perfect.”

“I like baby bird. Or maybe cub.”

“You’re too skinny to be a cub. We’re going with little chick.”

“Baby bird.”

“Chickie.”

“Baby bird.”

“Chickie.”

Asha, seeing Kiel’s insistence on “chickie,” reluctantly gave in.

“But you can’t call me that in public.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’m an adult. It’s embarrassing.”

Kiel almost pointed out that holding hands in the Imperial Palace was far more embarrassing, but stopped himself.

He’d started bringing Asha to the palace when Asha was seven, teaching him to hold hands to avoid getting lost, and claiming it was proper palace etiquette. The habit had stuck. Kiel’s childhood warnings about the palace being a scary place, filled with unknown dangers, had clearly left a lasting impression. Even after realizing that the scariest thing in the palace was Kiel himself, Asha still instinctively clung to his hand.

It was a good habit. He’d be holding Kiel’s hand for the rest of his life.

“Now, let’s sleep.”

Kiel kissed Asha’s still-chubby cheek goodnight. Asha asked, “Aren’t you changing your clothes?”

“Too much effort.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Then, whatever…” Asha, seemingly unconcerned, snuggled against Kiel without changing into his nightclothes. He fidgeted for a moment, then sat up and straightened Kiel’s arm.

Kiel, obliging, looked at him questioningly. Asha rested his head on Kiel’s outstretched arm and pulled the blanket up.

“I want to use your arm as a pillow.”

Kiel beamed, a pure, unguarded smile that belied his cunning nature.

“You wanted to use my arm as a pillow?”

“Yes. I always do,” Asha replied, then rolled over and draped his leg over Kiel’s thigh.

It would have been an incredibly disrespectful gesture from anyone else, but from Asha, it was endearing. It was so cute, Kiel almost wanted to bite him.

When Asha was younger, his cuteness had been an object of fascination, a possessive urge to claim him as his own. As Asha grew older, however, that possessiveness had morphed into something more…carnal.

Kiel hadn’t understood it at first, but witnessing Asha’s coming-of-age ceremony had sparked a desire to…consume him. He realized then that it was love.

What began as fascination with a cute creature had transformed into a deep, passionate love.

That love had fueled his relentless search for the tablet. And he’d finally found it.

Frisdale’s strict monogamy laws and prohibition of same-sex marriage made a union between him and Asha impossible. But he didn’t want to marry anyone else, nor could he bear the thought of Asha marrying someone else.

His life’s mission had become securing Asha the rightful position of Empress, a position everyone would acknowledge. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he’d become emperor for this very purpose.

He’d considered amending the law, but such a drastic change required a compelling justification.

And he could manufacture that justification.

With the tablet.

The day he’d dreamed of was finally within reach.

Congratulating himself on his seventeen years of dedication, Kiel drifted off to sleep, holding his precious bun close.

He dreamt of a blissful future.