Struggle Chapter 77

Nanyoung pushed away Taerok’s head, which kept trying to tickle his breastbone, and answered. Taerok persisted stubbornly like a child. Instead of falling back, he grabbed Nanyoung’s buttocks and spread them. Nanyoung, who had lowered his head to tell him to stop, was suddenly shocked by Taerok’s member that came into view. It was even erect to the point that he could hardly bear to look at it with both eyes.

The servant answered, “Yes, sir,” and withdrew. Nanyoung covered his face.

“Why on earth do you act like this….”

At his tearful voice, Taerok asked back as if he didn’t know.

“You dreamed of me.”

Nanyoung’s heart dropped. Taerok pressed his ear entirely against Nanyoung’s chest, which had suddenly begun to beat rapidly, and closed his eyes. The sound of his panting was soft and light. It would surely be different from his own.

“How many times did I appear.”

“…”

“How many times did I come out… tell me.”

Taerok murmured. His forehead rubbed against the flat part between Nanyoung’s chest.

Nanyoung was utterly flustered by the hair and the skin rubbing against his body.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to say something—anything. There was no room to choose his words carefully.

“If that’s the case, Uncle… it seems you came because you missed me.”

At that, Taerok laughed lowly. His laughter spilled onto Nanyoung’s chest.

“How did you know.”

This was an answer Nanyoung had not expected.

“You were all I could think of. I wasn’t even like this when I first learned the ways of the flesh.”

“…A lie.”

“Why would I lie. Is there anyone here who would benefit from me lying?”

“…”

“There’s no one who would benefit. Not even myself.”

Murmuring, Taerok moved his head to the side and lightly sucked Nanyoung’s nipple.

“Sodomy is a grave offense, and on top of that, we’re related by blood—so what would change if I said I missed you as a lie? Would our bond become one of love? Would we become inseparable lovers?”

As Nanyoung listened blankly, a tear dropped from his eye. It happened to fall onto Taerok’s shoulder. Taerok raised his head.

“According to you, nephew… well, it seems you don’t actually want to make love with me. Since the water’s already spilled, even if it’s just the body, why not enjoy it?”

“…If, if we stopped even now….”

With a gentle voice, he struck harshly. Nanyoung could not finish his sentence and gasped.

“If we stopped even now, would a grave offense become a light one?”

“…Hn, hnn.”

Even Nanyoung himself knew how absurd and unreasonable that sounded.

“What to do…. Even so, we won’t end up in a good place.”

It hurt. His chest ached so much. As if it had been crushed when Taerok’s chin pressed against it. How could it hurt this much? It felt as though his breath had been cut off entirely.

The tears falling from his eyes increased. Enough that they made a sound as they dropped onto the water.

Taerok lifted Nanyoung up and carried him out of the tub. He would collapse soon from crying—damp, suffocated, and his body burning hot.

Nanyoung silently wept the entire time Taerok dressed him. And even when Taerok took his hand and led him out, he remained still. As if only an empty shell remained.

Fortunately or not, they encountered no one along the way. Taerok seated Nanyoung in the center of the main room, sat facing him, dried his hair, and kissed him repeatedly—on his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his cheeks.

“Nephew.”

Taerok’s lips tickled Nanyoung’s eyelids. Nanyoung closed his eyes and, without a sound, let tears fall drop by drop as he nodded. Taerok wiped the corner of Nanyoung’s eye with firm fingertips.

“Stop crying now.”

“I’m not crying.”

Not crying, indeed—swollen and puffed up as they were.

Taerok smiled quietly.

“I told you I had a gift, didn’t I.”

He reached his hand beneath the cushion. A rustling sound came. It was light, like the sound of crushed fallen leaves. But what it held was by no means light.

Even when Taerok took out what he had caught and showed it before his eyes, Nanyoung’s expression showed he could not tell what it was.

“Look.”

Taerok rubbed it flat with his fingertips and fluttered his fingers. Nanyoung blinked slowly. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read. It just took time for his mind to process it.

“The end.”

Taerok tried to whip his arm back behind him. Nanyoung reached out to grab it, but his hand couldn’t reach and only swept through the air. As he leaned forward to catch it, he naturally ended up in Taerok’s embrace.

“W-wait a moment. Just a moment…!”

“It’s a list of people’s lives—showing it again would be quite taxing.”

“You said it was a gift! How can you act like this!”

Nanyoung was right. Taerok had simply changed his mind. There was no excuse for taking away a gift without giving it. Shrugging lightly, Taerok tucked the paper into his bosom and pulled Nanyoung into his arms in one swift motion. It was as fast and threatening as a beast pouncing.

Yet what followed was different from the threatening gesture—a light kiss. Startled and bewildered in every way, Nanyoung only widened his eyes and pressed his lips firmly shut. Taerok lightly brushed that face and naturally changed the subject.

“I heard you had an audience with His Majesty today.”

“…”

“What did you go and say? Did you go to inform on me? Did you sell out your uncle?”

Nanyoung bit his lip. His lips had been severely overused lately, reduced to tatters. Taerok found that a pity—he was busy enough sucking and licking them himself. Once the line was crossed, Taerok had no reservations. A sin, once committed, is etched into the body like a scar that cannot be erased. If so, whether it’s one or two, shallow or deep—what does it matter?

“…That doesn’t mean I’ll forget about the gift.”

“True. What a pity.”

“Hurry and give it back. That’s the list of the rebels, isn’t it?”

“If you want an answer to that, answer your uncle’s question first. Did you enter the palace and have a private audience?”

“…”

Silence was the answer.

“I brought it as a gift, but hearing that you had an audience changed my mind.”

“If a man’s heart is as fickle as reeds, what are you to do?”

“This is a matter of life and death—is there any reed heavier than this? So yes, did you have a private audience to sell out your uncle and save yourself?”

“…No. And besides, I’m not the one plotting treason.”

“You’ve done worse than that. I think you’ve done worse. Ever since you, nephew, savored your uncle deliciously.”

Nanyoung glared at Taerok. Taerok didn’t even blink.

Rather, Nanyoung lay back, and Taerok covered him from above.

“If you wanted this, you shouldn’t have spread your legs to anyone other than your uncle.”

Taerok pulled the paper from his bosom, held it between his index and middle fingers, and waved it mockingly. Then he tossed it behind him. As Nanyoung’s gaze desperately followed it, Taerok grabbed his face and turned it back to himself.

“If you go around spreading your legs to just anyone like this, how can I trust you, nephew?”

Unlike the content, which crudely slandered him like a whore, his voice was impossibly sweet. How affectionate and gentle. Taerok lightly breathed—huff—onto Nanyoung’s eyes, which had turned into a lake in an instant. He drank in the water pooled in Nanyoung’s eyes and embraced him firmly.

He deeply inhaled the scent of Nanyoung’s body in his arms. It was soon that he realized Nanyoung, held in his arms, was strangely quiet. When Taerok pulled back, there before him was Nanyoung, dry-eyed, quietly gazing at him with reproach.

“Then how many times will it take.”

Nanyoung asked, his eye rims so red they were on the verge of chafing. Taerok frowned faintly at that hollow voice. Rubbing his face with his fist, Nanyoung asked again.

“If I don’t spread my legs to anyone else, only to you, Uncle—how many times do I have to spread them for you to give it to me?”

“…”

“If you tell me not to, I won’t even go through with my wedding—so please, give it to me.”

“It sounds like you’re asking for that as payment right now.”

“What difference is there from payment.”

Even at Taerok’s deliberately sneering words, Nanyoung replied in a calm voice.

“You were the first to treat me like a male prostitute, Uncle.”

Even as he said this, Nanyoung’s voice was soft and his tone gentle. But his eyes were like a dried-up well.

He got it back immediately. There was not a single wrong thing in Nanyoung’s words.

“The notion that you, Uncle, treated me differently from others—that, too, was my delusion.”