Rather than before a judgment desk, the next time I awoke I found myself laying down. The ceiling stared down at me, but it wasn't the earthen gaze that I'd come to expect. Pebbles and dirt didn't stab my back like little vengeance-filled soldiers. Instead, my body sunk into whatever I was laying upon. To the best of my ability I looked down. At least two sheets covered me, the bottom one thinner than the top one. I made to turn my head, but I only managed to move an inch before a pole shoved its way through my neck and up into my skull. I pinched my eyes shut.
Regardless of whoever had taken me here, they hadn't taken my pain with them. Not all of it, anyway. Granted, I did feel invincible compared to before I'd fallen asleep—or had I fallen unconscious? Well, either way, aches still plagued me. My back in particular reminded me of a time when I'd broken it in a few places about five years ago. I'd been pursued by bounty hunters and had to throw myself off a cliff in order to escape. Luckily I'd managed to cling to a tree branch, the fall from which only injured me rather than killing me. I grimaced at the memory; that was when I'd met Isogai. And it marked the spike in my homicidal behaviors. Those three months I'd spent in his care had been awful. He did keep my injuries from worsening when I wouldn't have been able to do so on my own, but his ulterior-motive-ridden personality nearly drove me to jumping off the cliff again.
Through all the hell I'd experienced here, at least he wasn't part of it. In that sense, the little shithole they'd kept me in was a beautiful paradise full of unlimited wine, balmy weather, and naked women. I didn't have much interest in the latter, but it was always nice to have the option.
Something warm rested upon my cheek, but before I opened my eyes, something external entered my mouth. The object was long and slender, and it nearly gagged me with how far it was shoved down my throat. The thing on my face tilted my head up, sending another pole through my neck. A stream of liquid surged down my throat, and a taste that combined cheap ale and cough tonic flooded my senses. I swallowed once, but the stream didn't cease. Actually gagging now, I jerked forward and hacked. The object—I presumed it was the neck of a glass bottle—left my mouth, sending the liquefied shit onto my sheets, myself, and most likely whoever had provided the bottle.
One coughing fit and some heaving later, I managed to look up. My eyes widened when they met a pair of hazel-green ones.
"Oh, good, you're all right," he said, relieved. "I was worried that you'd vomit."
"What...what the hell're you doing here?" I asked. "And where am I?" Now that I was up I could look around a little better, though my back pains kept tugging me toward the bed. The room was bland, but it was an actual room with actual walls and actual floors. A table sat off to the side, vials and bottles filling the top. I was in an infirmary?
Morinaga nodded, as if he'd read my previous thought. "I'm glad you're awake. You've been unconscious for a few days."
"Days?" So it was unconsciousness.
He nodded again. "If you still weren't awake, this would make the fifth day."
"Oh." Unable to handle the discomfort of sitting halfway up, I fell onto the bed once more. I winced with a hiss when hundreds of needles pierced my back.
"What is it?" Morinaga asked. He moved closer, eight shades of concern streaked across his face. "Are you hurt?"
Was he stupid? Of course I was hurt! That's why I was here! "I hit the injuries," I said. "It's nothing."
"Are you sure? That sounded painful."
"I said that I'm fine," I assured.
"If you say so…" He settled back in his seat, but his face only lost one part of his concern. "I'm sorry about the medicine. I didn't know if you were awake or not."
Maybe he wasn't stupid. He could've just been blind. "What is it?"
"Stomach medicine. It'll help your appetite."
"Appetite?"
"Yeah. Based on what the guards told me, you've vomited anything that they fed you." He held up the bottle that had previously choked me. "This should help with that."
I glanced to the side. "Does it really matter?" I grumbled.
"Why wouldn't it?"
"The shit they give me will just make me vomit anyway."
His tone shifted to relieved once more. "Oh, that's what you're worried about. I promise the food will be bearable."
"They won't do it for me."
"They will if I order it."
My gaze shifted to him once more, but I averted it once more directly after. Why did he look so damn happy? "What'd you think I meant?"
"Huh?"
"A few seconds ago you sounded relieved. Why?"
"Well...I was afraid you meant it wouldn't matter because you'd be executed. Or...suicide."
I scoffed. "I've been through worse than this." It was only a slight exaggeration. Only one time had made me truly want to kill myself.
"I can imagine," he replied.
"You mind telling me why I'm here and not hanging from a rope?"
"O-Oh, right. Well, I managed to convince them to stop the execution. Or, at least, to delay it. I used a forgotten law that let me choose your punishment, since you held me captive before."
"People still use Captive's Choice?"
He blinked at that. "You know what it is?"
"Of course I do. A lot of criminals do. That's how we manage to keep our own from getting executed."
"Have you used it before?"
"Never had the privilege. But I know about it due to someone I used to work with telling me about it." The same someone who had changed my life forever—and who had nearly destroyed it.
"Anyway," Morinaga continued, "after some negotiating with my brother, I managed to secure your safety. At least, for now."
"Why just for now? Why not forever?"
Now it was he who looked away. "Well...ah...as you know, since you held me captive, I get to choose your punishment. But at the same time, my brother's trying to find a way to overrule me, even if the law says that he can't, even if he is king. So you're safe from execution, but I don't know for how long that'll be."
I smirked to myself as an idea popped into my head. "I know how you could deal with that."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"You're brothers, if I'm not mistaken. But since he was born first, he became king."
He nodded.
"Isn't there a law that says if he dies the next-born takes the throne?"
"Yes," he affirmed. "Where are you going with this?"
"Well, let's say that an inedible chemical is accidentally spilled in his wine—"
He sat bolt upright in his seat. "What?! You're...you're suggesting that I…" His voice lowered. "...kill my brother?"
"Think about it. If he dies, you'll rule. If you rule, you can do whatever you want. You can free me from punishment entirely."
His shoulders sagged but only a little. "That is true," he allowed. "But it wouldn't just be that simple."
"Yes, it would. You just need arsenic or—"
"No, no, no—not that. I meant that ruling would be that easy. While it's true that I could free you, and I do really, really want you free...I wouldn't be a good ruler. I despise being the second-most powerful person in the nation. I'd hate being the first."
"What's so bad about it? You can get whatever you want and do whatever you want if you're king."
"It's not that simple." In place of the concern from earlier sat sorrow, both on his face and in his voice. "True, I have more power than most, but the amount of responsibility that comes with it is awful. Appearances become more important than your personality, and public opinion drives you to inhumane things. You, for example. Kunihiro wanted to kill you the moment that he recognized you. He had no urge to find out what your reason behind the assassination was. Granted, I'd change that if I ruled, but...the stress would eat away at me."
Pangs of guilt dotted their way across my chest. I hadn't done anything to cause this—not that I knew of—so there wasn't much reason for it. But he...he looked so damn sad! It was as if he'd just witnessed his treasured pet being killed! If I could move enough to do it, I'd try to comfort—wait, why would I do that? I hadn't done anything that would merit that. What was this sense of obligation?
"So...if you hate your life so much, why don't you change it?" I suggested. "It's not like you don't have the power."
"That's true. But at the same time, there's hundreds of years of tradition and history behind the things that I dislike. I couldn't change them on my own, and no one would want to assist me, due to the way everything is."
That affirmed it. He wasn't stupid or blind; he was stupid and blind. "You can't look harder?"
He looked up at me. "What?"
"There's plenty of people unhappy with how things are. You're just looking in the wrong circles. You're focusing on royals and nobles when you should be seeking out commoners and criminals." I rolled my eyes. "Or are they so far beneath you that you don't want to dirty your hands?"
"N-No, it's nothing like that!" he claimed. "I just...well, they won't have too much influence." He flinched. "N-Not that they don't matter at all," he stammered. "But the nobles are the ones who set precedents for others to follow. I do respect commoners and criminals." A slight smile appeared on his face. "I am in love with one, after all."
I flinched, and heat crept onto my cheeks. "Where the hell did that come from?" I hissed.
"My heart," he replied, his smile wider now. "I know that you don't believe me, and I know that you think I'm an abomination, but I promise that I'm saying that genuinely." He leaned over and pressed his lips to my cheek. "I love you."
I fisted my hand in the sheets. Oh, this bastard was so lucky that I was indisposed… "Shut up," I spat. "And move. You're too close."
He sighed. "Sorry."
When I knew he'd backed away at least a few feet, I looked back at him. "Back to important matters," I said. Hopefully his mindset would shift alongside the topic. "How long do I have to stay here?"
"In the infirmary?" I nodded. He twisted his lips in thought. "Probably just until your wounds heal a little more. Based on how they looked earlier, you should be out of here in a few more days."
Good. Then I could plan my escape to a better extent. "And then where?"
"What do you mean?"
Again I rolled my eyes. "My punishment," I explained. "What did you decide?"
Guilt spread across his face like plague among derelicts. A knot of unease formed in my chest. "Ah...about that...I...uh...I chose...um…"
"Say it," I ordered. "What'd you choose?"
In a voice so tiny that I had to strain to hear, he said, "I chose...personal slavery…"
