Chapter 3

"Papa." Liesen ran forward towards the king. Wolfram smiled and scooped the child up into his arms gracefully. Greta, who has reached her teenage years walked slowly to his side. Her soft curly hair that reached her shoulder bounced gracefully behind her shoulder.

"Good morning, Wolfram." Greta greeted.

"Morning, Greta. You too, Liesen." Patting the child on his back, he carried him into the dining room. His daughter followed suit behind him with silence.

"Papa?" Liesen sensed Wolfram slowed down, or even perhaps stopped in front of it. His small head twisted towards the portrait and Greta followed his gaze. She nearly cringed at it. It was Yuuri's portrait. The boy smiled at the photo innocently before turning back to look at his father. Wolfram gently smiled, as if shrugging it off and continued to walk away.

It was a full five years since Yuuri left Shin Makoku.

Even Liesen could feel the sadness cloud roaming around on his Papa's head sometimes. Greta knew too, this masked smile was not his true self. She knew, the excruciating pain his father hid behind that mask, the fact that Wolfram didn't forget about Yuuri.

Couldn't.

None of them could bring themselves to ask about this. To Wolfram, Yuuri Shibuya has become a hideous scar… a taboo.

Xxxx

"You must have misunderstood something here." Murata said. "Von Bielefeld might have…"

"Don't give me that. He knew, Murata. Wolfram knew what he was doing." He flicked up a finger, his eyes flashing with dangerous flame, his words shooting out like bullets, "Mistake number one, he should have told me about it. He made that decision without telling me, without considering my feelings. How'd you feel if it were you?" He shove off the chance for Murata to answer, he flicked up the second one, parallel with it and continued, "Mistake number two…" Words stuck in his mouth, couldn't get them out.

Murata raised his eyebrows as the answer didn't come out after a full thirty seconds. It was as if the flame that was ignited distinguished suddenly.

"If you can't think of any, then close that mouth."

Yuuri did as he was told, reproachfully, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I don't know how to explain this… but I felt betrayed."

"The problem here is why did von Bielefeld seem to remember nothing about it?" Looking out to see three children playing hide-and-seek, the laughter diminished around their ears, trapped deep in his thoughts. Yuuri's words became indistinct too.

Xxxx

"What's on the schedule today?" The blonde King asked, sitting in his rightful seat, his chin rested on his palm, leaning on the armchair. Gunter raised his head from the white parchment before looking back down. This was the usual routine they were having ever since Wolfram became the king. Unlike the previous Maou, Wolfram is relatively more responsible in his work. He did not attempt to once skip any of the lecture or meeting arranged by the counselor.

"The representatives from Magoui will be paying their visit at 1 this afternoon. We are expecting your presence there. The contract will be signed and..."

"Don't leave me!"

A spark in his brain sent the impulse down his nerves.

Nausea, the king had to swallow his own saliva for awhile, trying to keep his breathe steady while holding onto his chest. He was half-aware of that Gunter had stopped talking. The room around him was swaying, turning into the color of bright white. He tried to hold on, not wanting himself to pass out at this moment. Not after he had tried so hard to forget… but it never listened, just like how Yuuri never listened to his pleads back then.

"I'm…" his voice trailed off.

The brightness dimmed before his eyes.

"Wolfram!"

Xxxx

"How's he?"

"I wouldn't say he's completely well." Gisela reported, covering up the quilts back on the king. Wolfram murmured something incoherent in his sleep. Everyone held their stance, watching in silence, fearing for the worst before Wolfram turned mobile again, at which they heaved out a sign of relief.

"What's the diagnosis?" Gwendal cut it short.

"This is not exactly an illness, Your highness. It's the same old thing. I had given him the morphine to calm him down. I can relief the pain physically but I'm afraid I can't cure his insides."

"Not even with Maryoku?"

"A wound in the heart can never be cured by Maryoku."

"Why? I thought he was supposed to have forgotten about him." Conrad noted the anger rising in his brother's tone.

"Have you?" Conrad said. The words staked Gwendal straight into his heart.

The answer was clearly a 'no'. Gwendal twisted his fist. Behind this peaceful sleeping face lied years of self-inflicted pain.

"How long do you plan to torture yourself with this, Wolfram? Haven't you realized yet, that your doings won't bring him back? He wouldn't even know."

"Gwendal."

"I won't forgive him." The elder brother snapped, his voice shook in a mixture of grief and fury. "Never."

Xxxx

"Wolf?"

"Yeah?" Rested in his husband's arm, Wolfram hushed back softly. The day was tiring, the inspection had drained out all his energy. Yuuri should understand that he didn't want any 'activity' going on late at this moment. He felt the hand soothingly stroke his hair. The action relaxed him and he closed his eyes, listening.

Yes, he did understand. Sex isn't everything.

"I love you, my love."

"Me too…" Yuuri tightened his embrace.

"I always will, Wolf. No one can replace you."

The words trailed off from his ears.

"Wolf?" He brushed a gentle gesture over his lover's smooth porcelain cheek, a glint of satisfaction on the blonde's face. It drove all uneasy thoughts out from Yuuri's mind. He ran his eyes over his profile. One could never get tired by looking at Wolfram. He leaned in, planting a soft kiss on the sleeping blonde.

"Yuuri!!" He jerked from his sleep, finding himself staring at the white tile of the ceiling, his sensation, however was still drifting at the border of reality and dream. But the longer he stared, he clearer he was drawn back to present. There were no black onyx orbs. None, it was just a dream.

But why…?

He pushed down the quilt and slowly sat himself up from the bed. Wolfram reached up his face, and felt a single droplet of tear on his face. Dumbstruck, he shifted his eyes from his own hand towards the opened balcony, he jumped and rushed towards it, his heartbeat increased tenfold. Despite the fact that his head was still swaying at the moment, he needed confirmation.

"What are you doing?" The deep solemn voice shook him. He turned, just as his feet were few inches from the balcony.

"Brother."

"What are you doing?" Gwendal repeated his question, walking nearer to his side. His face hardened. No sign of amusement or joke were shown.

"I thought I heard someone." Wolfram replied, his tone weak. The night wind gushed through the door from outside. The soft velvet curtain brushed against his shoulder, he shuddered from the cold.

"There's no one here except me, Wolfram. Go back to sleep."

"But…" he pointed towards the door. "I was sure that…"

"No argument." Startled, Gwendal's tone had made him forgotten that he himself was the king and reserved every right to disobey him, or even more, to punish him for ordering the king. Wolfram obliged, returning to his bed with great reluctance.

He rested in silence as Gwendal crossed the room towards the place where he intended to go. He was half-expecting a scold or even a surprised gasp at that. But it proved to be nothing when Gwendal tucked his head back, shaking his head.

"There's nothing out there, Heika."

The king squeezed his night gown tighter under the quilt.

But he was so sure…

"I'll place guards outside your chamber. Please rest well." With that, he nodded and allowed his brother to leave the room. Pushing down the quilt, he gazed at his own hand again. The warmth on his right hand contrasted with the coldness on his left. And this… He put a finger up to his lips.

The feeling of a phantom lips brushing against his.

Supposed if there was no one here in his room, how'd he explain this?

Yuuri.

Another stab of nausea knifed through him. He scrambled up from bed, rushing towards the washroom, all the while trying to suppress it before he reached the basin. He retched again, feeling his empty stomach twisting in pain. His heartbeat raced faster.

He hated this.

He hated himself for thinking of the impossible.

He hated himself for even dreaming that Yuuri was here, in Shin Makoku, in their room after all these years.

He slammed his fist into the mirror glass, sending bits and pieces flying in the air. He felt one of them cutting through his skin. A seeping pain resulted, which made him winced. Through the half-hanging mirror, he saw the red dots on his pale face, instantly joined together, filing up the line on the cut flesh. He jerked, noticing his hand that was soaked in red. The hot blood travelled down to the tip of his fingers, dripping in droplets onto the glossy ground. It was beginning to throb, pulsing blood to the wounds. He could feel them trembled.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could be compared when it comes down to the pain insides. It was dark, as if his world could never be bright again. The light had long disappeared together with Yuuri the moment he was gone. No matter how hard he tried to cover it up…

The transparent liquid cascaded his face.

When…?

"Heika!"

He coughed again, irritated to hear the guards outside knocking on his door anxiously. Couldn't they just leave him alone?

"I'm fine!!"

Heart was torn into thousands of pieces, thrown away in countless unknown sides, unable to be re-joined. He cried, the tears dropping unceasingly.

When will he stop craving for him?

Xxxx