Chapter 21

It closed with the sound of the wooden door brushing against the frame, and, in that moment, Wolfram slowly released the breath he was holding. He rubbed his misty eyes into The Maou's neck. He wanted to cry. He really did. Everything he'd planned—this discrete life with The Maou—was ruined forever along with what precious little was left of his reputation. He didn't mind people implying he was "the king's slut" when he knew, deep down in his heart, that it wasn't true. But, being caught in the act like this and allowing someone, besides a lover, to see that secret, passionate, part of himself was mortifying.

Wolfram sobbed a little and felt some part of him breaking. I really am all those things people say…and more...

"Beloved…"

Wolfram shook his head "no" into The Maou's neck. He didn't want to talk about it.

"Inamorato?" The Maou said very softly, gripped his forearms, and pulled Wolfram away to see his face. What he saw was heartbreaking. Wolfram couldn't look him in the eye. His cheeks were crimson for all the wrong reasons, and he had pearl-like tears sliding down each time he blinked. The worst part was that the blond was trying so hard not to cry and, as a result, his teeth were gritted.

He leaned in. "I'm sorry," The Maou whispered with his face pressed against Wolfram's warm, wet one. "We embarrassed you." Both Yuuri and The Maou's voices spoke at once.

Green eyes flew open at that. "No, you didn't!" Wolfram's arms found their way around his waist. He pressed in with a strong hug to prove his loyalty and determination. "I'm sorry…if I made you think that." I was being selfish and stupid just now.

"Then…it's being seen with Yuuri that's the problem…?" Dark slitted eyes cut in his direction.

"No…it's being seen at all." The blond's heartbeat began to settle down now that he was holding onto The Demon King. He tilted his chin up. "And Yuuri…" Wolfram's dark green eyes met with onyx ones. "You understand our customs…unlike Yuuri. The person who will look bad in this situation is…is me." The blond felt weak just admitting it and leaned against The Maou's chest. He felt a wide palm ruffling his hair. "Instead of running after Yuuri, people will believe that I'm running after The Maou. If I can't have one, I'll have the other. That's what they'll believe. Politically and socially speaking, it would be a reasonable assumption."

"Do reputations really matter?"

Wolfram sighed at that. "You're not the one who will get the strange looks and the whispers. And, once Yuuri comes back, he'll hear of it. And he'll just be embarrassed all over again for something he has no memory of." He rubbed his pale hands against The Maou's back. They were beginning to feel cold.

"My sincerest apologies, Wolfram," The Maou said and embraced the blond gently this time. "As cruel and as self-serving as it sounds, we simply can't let you go."

Wolfram bit his lower lip at that with memories of how he found out about Kumiko and the note falling from Yuuri's pocket. "What I believe is that you can't let me go. Yuuri is another matter entirely." The blond's arms dangled at his sides now and his head bowed.

The Maou made a kind of hum in his throat that was deep and soothing to Wolfram. But, at the same time, it struck him as an almost impatient purr.

"I understand that it feels as though I'm pressuring you into accepting Yuuri back into your life. But…try again…and give him a chance…? You agreed to do that, remember?" The voice had a hint of mischief in it now.

Wolfram wrapped his arms around The Maou's neck. The face was sincere. "I'm confused. It's the only honest answer I can give you. And, for that, I'm sorry…" He returned the hug and wondered, briefly, if The Maou would leave him for being honest. And, if that happened, he wasn't sure what he would do. But, holding back at this point, lying by omission, was not the kind of relationship he could be satisfied with.

The hand ruffled Wolfram's hair again. It found a wheat-colored strand and let it slide through his fingers—root to tip. "Then, don't rush things. Just accept…until you are no longer confused…"

Wolfram snuggled against The Maou. "Until…Yuuri decides that he wants someone else…again… And, then, where does that leave us? Would there even be an 'us' anymore? You're inside of him, right?"

There was a knowing chuckle against his ear. "There will always be an 'us,' Inamorato. Your heart just needs to accept that, too."

There was knocking at the door. It jarred him out of his thoughts.

Damn… I really didn't want to get into this…

The knocking came again. Reluctantly, sky blue eyes drifted to the door and his heart sank a little. He had wanted to avoid this conversation and had stayed in his room to do just that. But, apparently, his feeble plan wasn't going to work. He knew it wouldn't from the start. But it was worth a try—delaying the inevitable.

Yozak, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, picked up the well worn deck of cards and began to shuffle them. "Please come" he said, knowing who was waiting on the other side. His knock was distinctive.

"Yozak? Here you are," Conrad said with a pleasant smile as he entered.

Yozak's room was neat and tidy. He had few possessions because he told himself that he liked to travel light and cleaning had to be quick because he was routinely sent out on assignments. (The maids were never allowed in.) Though, he did make an exception when it came to his work. Yes, he had few worldly goods, but clothing was a different matter entirely because, much like a stage actor, he was constantly getting into "character" as he called it. The closet door was open ajar and a pink ruffled skirt was peeking out. Beneath it, a pair of new boots and a pair of high heeled shoes were side by side. And the bed, where the large man was sitting, was made up with the linens tucked in so tightly that everything seemed painted on.

The orange haired spy worked the cards in his hands. The motions gave him something to do—to buy him enough time to distance himself from his emotions and to be able to return Conrad's smile with a set, yet pleasant, mask.

"Hi," he said and met up with brown eyes.

As expected, Conrad saw right into his soul.

Damn…

He had a way of doing that. And his face changed—concern coming to him. Without asking, Conrad sat down on the edge of the bed. "Are you dealing or not?" he asked with a hint of curiosity.

It wasn't about the cards. It never was.

"Yeah…sure," Yozak mumbled, scooted back towards the pillows to give the two of them some room, and half of cards landed softly before the other player. "A game of Dragon Dealers, then…?"

Conrad nodded. This was a simple game that Yozak played whenever something was eating at him. Conrad picked up his cards and patted them into a stack. "Just curious… Did you speak with Wolfram today? You mentioned that you would when you got back from your mission in town."

Yozak, lips parted slightly, took a slow, deep breath and let it out as quietly as possible.

Brown eyes glanced up. Not good… Once again, Conrad straightened up his stack of face down cards—not that it really mattered, but he'd play along as usual.

"Speak to him? No." He pursed his lips together, seemingly to concentrate on starting the game. "Saw him…yes."

Conrad tilted his head to one side, giving Yozak a curious stare. "If you saw him, why didn't you ask him…about…?"

Yozak took the top card from his stack, turned it over, and placed it down on the mattress. Conrad did the same. Conrad's card was a jack and Yozak's card was a 4.

"Pay me," Conrad said, pointing to his jack.

Yozak nodded absently and gave his 4 over along with an additional card from his stack.

Conrad flipped the face down card over to see what he'd gotten. "You've given me an ace."

"Yeah," the spy said as a sigh, but he wasn't really paying attention.

They started again.

"I saw your brother," Yozak said,"…in the maou's office…" He lowered his head slightly. "…with The Maou."

"You mean Yuuri?" He sounded confused.

"I didn't say 'the kiddo.'" Yozak muttered grimly. "I said 'The Maou'." There was stress in Yozak's voice to communicate more. But, Conrad seemed to be either numb or dumb—he wasn't sure which.

"What were they doing?" Conrad asked, the cards forgotten.

Yozak rolled his eyes. "You're sitting with me… on my bed…and you have to ask that question?"

"No!" Conrad breathed. His eyes wide.

"Yeah, I know…" Uncomfortable, he turned his face away and wished he could be somewhere else with someone else. Not growing up with a family of his own made family ties an uncomfortable thing to be exposed to. This was why confessing his feelings to Conrad wasn't possible even if Tra'va had encouraged him to do so.

"I hate asking but…"

Yozak raised an eyebrow to that question. "How far did they go…?" The spy scooted back on the bed a bit more. Casually, he rested his body against the headboard with his beefy arms folded against his chest. "Would you want someone to ask that question about…me?"

Slowly, Conrad put down the stack of cards and it slid away into a horizontal fan. "This isn't about us, you know."

It never is… That's why Wolfram and I have more in common than people realize. With a noncommittal shrug, he answered, "I think…it would feel the same…" Then, he folded his arms behind his head, trying to look relaxed, even though he didn't feel it. "But, I will say this… The Maou saw me and kicked me out of the office. And he can be really scary when he's…interrupted."

Brown eyes widened. "I'm-going-to-have-a-talk-with-Yuuri." He ran the words together into a blur.

Yozak turned his sky blue eyes away. "I know."

"I'm sorry," Conrad added as an after thought, realizing that there were other things between them left unsaid.

"No problem," Yozak returned with a thin smile as he straightened up. "Come back when you feel like it." He leaned forward with an outstretched hand and scooped up the scattered cards.

He was straightening the unruly pile into a neat stack when he glanced up to see that Conrad was still standing there with a strange expression on his face.

"You'd better go," Yozak said, dismissing him.

"Yozak…I…"

Without looking up, his hands worked the cards. "Bye…"

"Umm…right…"

The door opened and closed again.

That's my job, he thought as he shuffled the cards and then got ready for a game of solitaire. I look around and I tell what I see. It's what I'm good for. And that's why you came here tonight. It's probably the only reason why… But, I'm fine with that, too.

Yozak began to lay the cards out in the shape of a pyramid.

The next time you want something, Conrad… I'll be here…as always…when you want me.

He turned the first card over. It was the ten of spades.

Wolfram's dark green eyes darted left and right. He'd been doing that since the moment he'd scuttled off to his bedroom to change his ripped, white shirt. Giving up on having it repaired, he'd dumped it in the trash along with a lot of other things he decided to get rid of—namely the charred remains of more "letters of interest" from potential lovers and others wanting a political alliance. Luckily, Gwendal was of the opinion that it was too soon for his little brother to find a new mate. Nonetheless, the perfumed messages were sent directly to Wolfram who was only too eager to burn each one individually, bottom up, in his bedroom while crushing the paper angrily in his shaking grasp.

No guards along this hallway… Good…

He walked along. Then, the sound of boots caught Wolfram's ears. The ex-prince growled at the noise and ducked into the nearest doorway to hide. He was alone and wanted to remain that way for now. Stepping backwards, he found himself in a storage closet with buckets, mops, and brooms. He left the door open just a crack and peeked to see who it was.

Brown hair passed by.

Conrad, huh? I'll bet he went looking for Yuuri first, though. Wolfram's face hardened at that. If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have wound up having an unwanted, not to mention uncomfortable, conversation with his older brother. The blond was waiting for the footsteps to fade when he heard the sound of a crisp series of knocks on his bedroom door. He thinks I'm there. Well, you're wrong, Conrad. I guess, "Mr. Perfect" can't be right all the time, he thought wryly.

"Wolfram?" The voice, at this distance and from inside a closet, sounded muffled.

No answer.

Another knock.

Wolfram almost wanted to laugh at that but stopped himself. And he was quite pleased until his ears caught the unmistakable groan of his door opening.

"Wolfram?"

Oh, I forgot to lock my door. That's even better! Once he's in there, I can make it down the hall and back into Gwendal's office. He crossed his fingers that Gwendal hadn't been informed yet. No, it would have to be Conrad first. Yozak and Conrad are close. Still, it's only a matter of time before Gwendal knows and the rest of the castle will follow thanks to Yozak's big mouth. I was a fool for ever confiding in him in the past.

Wolfram chewed his lower lip a little and wondered what Gwendal would do to him for making out in Yuuri's office. And, he recalled with a hand to his lips, a little more than that. Two sets of dark eyes haunted him. Probably nothing, he reasoned. What could he do? But, still… Just when it felt that I got his respect back…

There were footsteps going into Wolfram's room. And the blond took that moment to walk briskly out of the closet.

I don't know what to do right now…other than finish my work for the day and go to dinner. Then again, I might take it in my room and avoid everyone. We'll see.

Around the corner skipped a shadow before Wolfram could do anything about it.

"Hello, Papa Wolfram! The person I was coming to see," Greta said cheerfully. She walked up to him and smiled prettily. "Can I sit between you and Yuuri Daddy at dinner again tonight?"

Wolfram, taken aback, nodded like a wide-eyed and floppy puppet. "Oh…hello, Greta," he said with a bit of a forced grin. "I wasn't expecting to see you…here… Ummm…. Dinner? Dinner… Oh, dinner! Well, of course you can sit between us." He raked his fingers through his hair nervously, glancing over his shoulder briefly at his bedroom. "In fact, from now on…we'll have you do just that."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her around the corner with a smile that was just a tad too big.

"Thank you!" she said happily. "Oh, and can we work on getting my hair dyed like yours?"

They stopped. Rooted.

Wolfram cocked his head to one side and eyed her suspiciously. "So, that's the reason why you're glad to see me."

"No, no," she said with palms out in a "stop" motion, but her voice betrayed her ulterior motive only too easily. "I'm always glad to see you."

"Ah…right…"

As he rested his hands on his hips, Wolfram thought, Oh, the joys of parenting…

"Wolfram…? Are you in here?" Conrad called as he walked around and checked out the small private bath.

Nothing.

Nobody.

He stepped back into the bedroom and frowned as he took in what was before him. There were two boxes with only the necessities inside. And the four poster bed was made in the usual blue hues. It suddenly struck him how little Wolfram was putting into his new space, his surroundings. And the realization made Conrad's concern for his little brother grow. Unlike Yozak's utilitarian room, Wolfram's bedrooms always had some hint of being neat but lived in. Some part of his personality—his likes, hopes, and dreams—could be found there.

But this space was cold, impersonal—forlorn, in a way.

"I suppose, I'll keep looking…" he said to himself as he passed the trashcan and his eyes caught something fluffy inside.

What is…? He reached in and retrieved the remains of what appeared to be a white dress shirt. Conrad recognized it immediately as a part of his brother's uniform. He held it up and noticed that the collar had been, inexplicably, torn to shreds and one of the buttons had gone missing. Something fluttered down to the floor. Brown eyes blinked, looking for it. Then, he noticed that inside the trash there were the charred remains of handwritten letters. Not all of them have been burned completely, he thought as he peered in owlishly. The ones on top, the last few letters in the stack, he guessed, were not burned to ash. It was then that he realized what had drifted to the floor. It was one of the letters. He picked it up and it unfolded, the charred parts curled and twisted. It wasn't his intention to invade his brother's privacy, but he could easily read phrases such as "…beauty beyond compare…" and "…advantageous political alliance…" It reeked of perfume.

Conrad tossed the shirt and the burnt letter into the trash (but tore the paper into pieces first so that the maids wouldn't have more gossip fodder). What caused Wolfram's shirt to be in such a state, Conrad couldn't even begin to guess. But it certainly wasn't from being happy or secure. He assumed that much at least. And the letters were no different than the batch Wolfram had been given in Gwendal's office. So, there was pressure on Wolfram, even now, to move on with his life. But was Wolfram even ready for that? Under all of the sadness and anger, Conrad knew that his brother still loved and wanted Yuuri. But what he wasn't certain of was The Maou. Was his brother being forced into a relationship with The Demon King or was he settling for something—even something temporary—because it was better than being alone and this person so closely resembled Yuuri?

With renewed determination, he went in search of the double black. Conrad decided it was time to have another discussion about Wolfram.

There was a sound behind Yuuri and he turned, startled. "Oh, Conrad! It's good to see you." He smiled warmly at his godfather for a second before turning back to the scenery. Lately, when he needed to think, he somehow found his way onto the balcony. The best view of Shin Makoku really was from his room.

"It's good to see you, too."

Conrad walked through the king's bedroom, but couldn't help himself. His eyes looked for any trace of Wolfram being there: a brush, spare uniform, socks. There wasn't any. He wasn't sure if he should have felt relieved about that or not.

Yuuri's finger traced the edge of the railing, back and forth. "I've been trying to hide from Günter. Today's lesson on ancient forms of surgery was making me…" He turned all sorts of shades at the thought. "…kind of sick."

The corner of Conrad's mouth twitched into smile at that. His godson didn't have a very strong stomach.

"Really?" He had to fight down a chuckle. "Well, I dropped by…to discuss something…"

Yuuri nodded at that. "I thought you would." His mind flashed back to his moment with Wolfram. The blond wanted him to let go and was planning on leaving the office. The struggle wasn't hard—using full strength. But Wolfram meant every word he said. The Maou had taken over at his insistence and then there was nothing—like falling into a deep, black well, while his other "self" stepped in. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. But, when he returned, he was standing in front of a window with Wolfram wrapped securely in his arms. They were both staring out at the scenery.

"Wolf…ram?" Yuuri turned and noticed that Wolfram's face was wet. "Did something happen…?" The double black fretted that The Maou may have gone too far with Wolfram, to claim him as his own. They had to go slow with the ex-prince. Too much had happened between them. So, taking their time together, getting to know each other again, was vital.

"It's nothing," Wolfram said, his expression hardened now that he could see he was with Yuuri and not The Maou.

Onyx eyes showed concern anyway and he placed a hand against Wolfram's cheek—wiping away what was left of the tears. "I don't understand." Fingers threaded through sandy locks. A hand was at Wolfram's back, gently nudging him forward. He rested his forehead against Wolfram's and he felt the other stiffen a little, holding his emotions in.

His voice was soft. "Please, tell me."

"We were caught…together." His voice almost a whisper.

Yuuri tried to let it sink in. Caught…? Then, his eyes caught something—the shredded shirt. He tilted his head down slightly and examined the cloth. "What did…?"

"The shirt is nothing." It's nothing compared to the way I feel right now.

"Who saw, then?"

The blond's body wanted to crumble at the question. It was a natural thing to ask, but painful. "Yozak. He came in here looking for me." Then, a bitter laugh intended only for himself, the only person who could truly feel the irony. "But I'm sure he saw a lot more than he bargained for." He shook his head "no" and eyes filled with tears again, replaying the memory.

Tears… He gave an even look to that. "Wolfram…?"

Green eyes glanced up—dark green, not emerald.

"I really have made your life a living Hell…huh?"

Blinking his misty eyes, Wolfram's face set itself into a deeply etched frown. He glanced at the floor. I don't need your pity… Yours or anyone else's. He wanted to storm off to prove that it was all untrue and that he could handle anything his ex-fiancé could dish out, but the double black was holding him tightly in place. His lone attempt to step away only resulted in them both getting jostled.

"Let go," Wolfram said weakly.

Yuuri put two fingers under Wolfram's chin and tilted it up. Seeing eye to eye. "No."

It was the same answer that The Maou gave him. Wolfram wanted to scream in frustration and beat something. Yes, scream or cry his heart out—one of them.

"I want to end this. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

The ex-prince straightened to his full height. "You can't hurt me. So, don't worry."

Even now, he's bluffing. Then, let's see what he does…

"'Nothing,' you say?"

He got a cold nod.

Yuuri placed his palm on the back of Wolfram's head and stroked downwards, taking in the feeling of every silky strand. It earned him a curious look.

"Say 'goodbye' to the way things are now."

What is Yuuri…?

"No more," he said as a sigh as he leaned in and pressed his lips against Wolfram's. It took bravery to do it. The blond was either going to fight him or accept. But, if it was a fight that he'd have to go through, he was willing to do it.

Even though the kiss was gentle, there was a slight gasp at that. Yuuri didn't bother to look. He was focused on something else, and he was repositioning the blond in his arms. Wolfram, like a sleepwalker, was being directed backwards. And his body ended up in a chair by the window. But the kiss was never broken and he widened his eyes at the shocking sight. Yuuri, his king, was kneeling beside the chair, hands clasped over the blond's in a tight grip.

"Wha…" What are you…? He began to say, opening his mouth, but Yuuri took that opportunity to deepen the kiss. There was a pleasured hum in Yuuri's throat which melted the last of Wolfram's reserve.

The next thing the double black knew, he was on his back, legs splayed, lying on the office rug, with Wolfram atop him—kissing back. It was great having his ex-fiancé like that. He smiled into the kiss, reached up, and wrapped his arms around a lithe waist.

Wolfram stopped suddenly with a shake of the head 'no." He said to himself, "This isn't good. I could get caught again."

A slight chuckle from below.

"I won't hold it against you," Yuuri said from underneath and tugged at the white, dangling strip of cloth. Tan fingers took the longest strip and batted Wolfram's cheek with it playfully.

Oh, you think this is funny, huh?

Wolfram folded his arms on Yuuri's chest and rested his chin down—eyes meeting. What he was going to say was obvious and tiresome. "The sad truth is…our engagement is over and you're a single king. You're fine." He blinked slowly like a sleepy cat. "Me? I never married the king…which questions my honor. By being with you…like this now…" He looked down at himself. "I'm lowering myself to the ranks of a concubine at best and a whore at worst. The king's pleasure toy."

Black eyebrows pushed together. "No! And this castle is just as much your home as it is mine. No one will think that of you." His hands bunched into the blue military coat. He needed to hold onto him, to prove he was right.

"You're so naïve," Wolfram laughed bitterly. There was a shake of his shaggy head. "They think that now."

It was time for dinner. Yuuri and Conrad entered together. Conrad tried to hide his frustrations behind a bland smile. While chatting on the balcony, he had made several attempts to get more specifics out of his godson, but didn't manage any better than learning more details about "the hickey incident" as he labeled it in his mind. Yuuri just kept staring off into space and mumbling words under his breath.

"Yuuri Daddy!" Greta called with a friendly wave.

Yuuri blinked hard at the table and then reminded himself that Greta was now the one who had to sit beside him. Günter emphasized that point today before the lessons started as a "protocol" review. Feeling a dark scribbled feeling over his heart, he tried his best not to show it. Though a part of him really wanted to shout in frustration, "Okay, I got it! I got it!" He sighed instead.

Wolfram was sitting there with a sharp look in his eyes that bordered on jealousy. Yuuri assumed it was because he'd entered the room with Conrad. Ordinarily, that would be the reason. And that made some part of him truly happy. He now knew it was more than possible to get Wolfram to care for him again. But something Conrad said, when they were talking earlier, got him thinking. And he would just have to do it because it was the only honorable way. What he'd learned from this situation with Wolfram was the necessity to do things properly. Worst of all, sometimes, you had to be cruel to be kind.

The servants came in with the soup and placed the china bowls before everyone. Yuuri could smell the delicious aroma. This, he thought, I can handle much better than the purple mashed something-or-other we had at breakfast.

"Itadakimasu," Yuuri said and tried the soup. The others joined in quickly enough and the small talk around the table became a low murmur.

"Oh, Heika," Günter said, "my sincerest apologies regarding the lesson for today. I had forgotten how delicate your system is in regards to biological processes."

"Lesson…? 'Biological processes'…?" Wolfram asked himself curiously. Then, he blew on his spoonful of hot soup.

"It involved blood and guts, I bet!" Greta said with a wolfish grin and watched her father's face make a sort of quirky sickness-induced grimace.

Wolfram sighed "wimp" and then opened his mouth to take in the spoonful.

Hands clasped and eyes sparkling, Günter said, "Tomorrow's lesson will be much better. We'll discuss fewer surgical processes and will focus on healing herbs and techniques for the battlefield."

"That's not a bad topic," Gwendal said with some approval, "in case of emergencies."

"I agree. First aid knowledge can never go to waste… even though The Maou is very powerful," Gisela commented with a wink at Murata Ken. He grinned back openly at her.

Yuuri placed his hand behind his head sheepishly. "Sorry…I can't."

Wolfram dropped the spoon into his bowl. It made a clattering sound that silenced the room. Everyone stared curiously.

For the briefest second, Wolfram relived all of those moments when Yuuri went off to Earth…to cheat. It was always the same scenario. They would be talking about plans for the next day and then Yuuri would act—just like that—and would say those exact same words.

"I choked a little," he lied, eyes tearing up. He cleared his throat by coughing into his fist, nails biting into his palm. "My apologies…"

Murata Ken saw it. His eyes flicked back and forth between Yuuri and Wolfram. With a serious stare, he stirred his soup with the spoon, but his thoughts roamed elsewhere.

"But, going back to Heika…" Günter said, "Why can't you?" His mouth was turned down and his eyes sad. If he was going to miss out on his "Heika Time," Günter wanted to know the reason why. Unbeknownst to Yuuri, he loved tutoring him so much that he would often sit up late into the night making lesson plans.

"I'm going back to Earth for awhile."

Yuuri said it, and Wolfram mouthed the words in his head.

"Really?" Greta grinned. "Can you bring me back some Pocky? I like the strawberry kind!"

"Sure," he said and rubbed her shoulder kindly.

Yuuri looked to Wolfram to see his reaction. Wolfram tasted his soup, seemingly, without a care in the world. On the inside, though, he was berating himself. He was growing too attached to Yuuri again. And, truly, no happiness would ever come of it. Fool…

"And, when I come back," Yuuri said to Gwendal, "I want to discuss Wolfram's duties. I have something in mind."

That was it! The blond turned with a sudden ferocity, sparks flying from his fingers, and leaned forward to look past Greta. "Wait! Just the two of you? Shouldn't I be in on this meeting? It is about me, you know!" Each word rising—ending in a thunderous roar.

Unperturbed, Yuuri tilted his head to one side, put his finger to his lips and thought about it. "Oh…well… I see our point…" Then, he gave a nod of determination. "But the answer's still 'no'."

"Wha-?" Green eyes bugged out.

"He is our king," Günter hissed with an unusually stern look which said "respect him or else."

Wolfram gave an equally challenging glare, determined to get his way, until he heard his brother say, "Fine, I'll speak with Yuuri Heika when he gets back."

What? No!

Upset, Wolfram turned to Gwendal. How can he do this to me…? In front of everyone…? "But…brother…!"

Gwendal returned with a hawkishly dangerous look.

And that was the end of it.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Shibuya?" Murata Ken asked with a curious lilt in his voice. It was a steamy day in Japan and he had his glasses off—polishing them with his handkerchief.

"Yeah," Yuuri replied as the two of them walked toward the library. "I've got to see Kumiko again." He took his phone out and flipped it open. "I think I'll call her to meet me." He went down the menu on the phone, searching for her name.

The sage nodded at that and then pointed in the direction of the building. The community library was designed in a 1950's bland style that closely resembled a rather large, dull brick that was decorated with smaller bricks—giving an overall "brick-ish" feeling to it. Boring in every aspect. But, it was the place where they met outside of school, and their homes, when they pretended to "study" together. The small woodland park behind it was good for their trysts as well. There were a few benches out of sight where they could be alone and unseen.

"There's no need to call," Murata said. "She's right over there."

By the entrance, Kumiko stood with her pink mobile phone in hand and the little bear key chain swinging gleefully from it. Her black eyes widened with joy when she saw Yuuri.

"Yes! Yuuri!" She shouted—running for him with her curtain of hair trailing behind like a blue-black, glossy veil. "It's the last day of our summer vacation. I haven't seen you in awhile and you haven't returned any of my calls. It's been forever!"

Kumiko hugged him warmly around the waist with her head on his shoulder. It no longer bothered her that Murata was watching. He'd caught them doing it before. Kissing, too.

Murata stood by with his hands in his pockets and a sheepish grin painted on his face for Kumiko's benefit. But, then his eyes drifted in Yuuri's direction. The look he gave was different. It struck Yuuri as that of an old man—weathered, sincere, understanding. But there was something pained in it, too, like reminiscing over the cause of an old injury that never quite healed properly.

"I'm going inside. See you tomorrow, Shibuya." And, with that, the sage disappeared into the library.