033

033
Before the break of dawn, earlier than usual, the Blackwell household servants rose and commenced their duties. Curtains were changed, decorations set, and silverwares were replaced in preparation for the day’s events—the birthday of the Grand Duke, Lucian Blackwell.

Sebastian oversaw every activity, ensuring that every detail was perfect without fail. Gifts began to arrive as early as seven, accompanied by a few cards and letters for the master. Except one.

“Deliver this note to the young master.” Sebastian instructed, handing the letter to a young maid.

An hour later, Sarang left his room and encountered Nathan on his way down the stairs. Nathan was dressed in formal attire, already prepared to leave.

“You are dressed very handsome for an evening event.” Sarang complimented.

Nathan chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Sarang’s waist and kissed his lips.

“I have urgent business with my superior.”

“It should be postponed. It is the Grand duke’s birthday, something considered a national holiday.”

“This is very important. I will return on time, I promise.”

Sarang sighed and nodded. He accompanied Nathan to the front door, where a servant waited with a bouquet of a hundred blue roses.

“Just in time.” Nathaniel said and received the flowers.

“From whom?” Sarang asked, folding his arms.

“Me.”

“For me?”

“No, Father. It is his birthday. He mentioned blue roses once a few months prior, so I wanted to surprise him.” He picked out a single rose and tucked it into Sarang’s hair, then smiled. “But blue has always your colour, my love.”

“Thank you.” Sarang giggled and gently caressed the flower in his hair. “It’s beautiful, rare, and some say unnatural, but I don’t think it suits me. They suit master better. Beautiful, yet cold and deep.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m rambling.” Sarang chuckled. “If he wanted blue roses, he could have asked, and I would have planted them. He rarely leaves his office these days.”

To Sarang, it was an unusual request. Lucian had never displayed any interest in flowers, even when he occasionally came to the garden, which was rare. A compliment at most, but nothing more.

His master enjoyed the sound of old paper and smell of wood, since he was always in his study, even during his spare time.

“Until I return, keep him entertained.” Nathaniel said and handed the bouquet to Sarang.

Nathaniel hugged Sarang and parted with a chaste kiss on his cheek before leaving for wherever his destination was. Sarang returned inside.

The servants coordinated themselves, standing on opposite sides of the hall as another servant descended the stairs, announcing Lucian’s entrance.

Sarang stood at the front beside Sebastian, hugging the bouquet against his chest while exchanging nervous glances with him.

What should I say? How should I act around him? When will Nathan return?

Sarang’s brows furrowed with each question. He did not want to experience a dull moment or upset Lucian, especially on his birthday.

“Happy birthday, Master Lucian.” The servants chorused, drawing Sarang back from his thoughts. He watched Lucian descend the stairs with a pleasant aura about him. He wasn’t smiling, but it was clear he was cheery.

Sarang could see the signs of recovery on Lucian’s face. He worried about him, but Sebastian’s words steeled his resolve. Lucian was his master with a household to worry about him. He was, at most, Sebastian and Nathan’s responsibility, not his.

“Sarang.” Lucian called his name, and Sarang looked at him, his expression solemn.

Sarang crossed the distance between them with the bouquet.

“For you. Nathan could not gift it himself, but he will join us tonight. Happy birthday, Master.”

Lucian graciously accepted the flowers and brought them to his nose, breathing in their delicate scent.

“Nathaniel’s gift is very thoughtful. The flowers are beautiful. What of yours?” Lucian asked softly.

“I am sorry. I don’t have any gift this year.” Sarang lied, pressing his left thumb against the knuckles of his right index finger.

The gift was in a box underneath his bed, along with a handwritten card. It hurt him doing this to his master, especially when he saw the disappointment flicker across Lucian’s expression.

It had to be done, if not… how else could he distance himself from him?

He wanted to cry.

“The first time I saw a blue rose was at an engagement party in Edelstein. I was eight when a woman gifted them to the bride and left… no words exchanged. For a long time, the bride remained silent as she clutched those roses. It left a deep impression on me. With time, I learned their meaning, but never understood it until today.”

“Master, I–”

“It’s okay. There’s always next year.”

Sarang’s breath hitched.

There was a subtle fondness in Lucian’s memories that Sarang desperately desired to know, to understand. Deep within his heart, the older alpha had the power to sway his emotions and resolve with effortless ease. It felt as though his heart had sunk into his stomach.

What a cruel act of devotion. Why does he keep hurting his master?

Lucian carried the bouquet with great care, taking it with him as he dismissed everyone. Sarang bit his lower lip and dropped his gaze.

He removed the rose in his hair and stared at it before tenderly brushing his fingers over its soft petal, absented-mindedly.

Flowers had their own language, and colours were a part of it. Red for passion, black for grief or revenge, yellow for happiness, but blue…

Blue was a soothing yet sad colour.

He lifted his gaze, which lingered on Lucian’s back as he spoke to Sebastian until he finally left his sight.

Heaps of book covered Sarang’s desk. Subjects on gardening, identification of plants, herbs and poison, flower encyclopaedias, a few outdated books, but little on blue roses or their floriography.

He groaned and snapped another book shut.

Frankly, he found roses very boring, but it wasn’t difficult to find texts about them. Blue roses, however, weren’t a common nor naturally growing flower, so there was little written about them.

Sarang sighed and opened the small right compartment of his desk. He picked up the box, wrapped neatly in a sage-coloured paper and sat on his bed.

Underneath the box was a card with beautiful cursive handwriting he had written by himself, addressed to Lucian.

“But I have this year.” Sarang whispered, hugging the gift against his chest.

“You should give it to the master.” A heavily accented female voice spoke from the left, startling Sarang. “It would make him very happy.”

Sarang clutched his chest in relief and hid the gift under his pillow.

“Petra, what happened to knocking?”

“I did. You were so slow.” She rambled as she entered with a tray of food. “You didn’t come for breakfast, so the master said I should bring you food.”

Hearing that made Sarang feel even worse. He bit his lips and covered half his face with his hands.

“I feel so awful.”

Perta dropped the tray beside him and removed his hands from his face.

“Don’t be. Give him the gift and tell him it was a surprise."

“I can’t. If I do–” Sarang paused, pondering if he should say anything. “The situation is complicated.”

“Then simplify it. Why did you lie when you have a gift? Is it something embarrassing?”

“No. It’s just…” Sarang sighed. “Mr. Sebastian might have suggested that it’s best to put some distance between myself and Master because I am making him ill.”

“That old prude!” Petra exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively. She noticed the shame on his face and smiled gently. “You shouldn’t listen to him. Sebastian is older and wiser, but he’s not always right. He always complains that my skirt is too short, my methods aren’t Eldorian, or my cooking is too flavourful for his taste. Do I listen? No. Because the master has never complained about my skirt, my identity, or my cooking.”

“My point is…” She touched his chin and gently lifted it. “People are the same yet different on a simple layer. You can know someone your whole life and know nothing about them at the same time, especially when it comes to feelings, the heart. You can know about their favourite food, colour, their family, their preferences, their lovers, but not understand why they like those things, or know everything you’ve never experienced when you aren’t with them.

She paused, her expression softening.

“I have loved many times, and all of them were same yet different. Some days I knew them, other days, I was still learning them. But every day I loved them. I still do.”

She picked out the gift from under the pillow and handed it to Sarang, then patted his shoulder. She smiled warmly, closing her eyes as she reminisced about her youth.

“The master has always praised me because he knows you love my cooking, and that is love. I know I would be disheartened if the people I care about didn’t show me that they cared too, especially on the one day I am allowed to be selfish in a world that only remembers my sacrifice. Everyone wants to feel loved and wanted, even when we fight.”

Sarang clutched the gift and smiled at her, tears glistering in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll take this as payment.” She swiped a piece of croissant from his tray and propped it into her mouth. “It’s not a free world we live in. Enjoy.”

She waved him off and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Lucian sat in silence, watching the sun paint the sky in beautiful shades of orange as it slowly set. It was breathtaking.

He wanted to enjoy this moment of peace before the guests arrived and occupied his night. This would be the first birthday he had celebrate in Linfield since Grace died. Back in Wynthorpe, it had always been a quiet affair with a few visiting friends and the children.

Now, they were grown, slowly drifting apart because of their differences and stubbornness.

Lucian sighed.

“Happy birthday.”

Sarang’s soft whisper drew his attention. He offered Lucian a box wrapped in sage-coloured paper.

“For me?” Lucian asked and Sarang nodded.

Lucian reached out, his fingers hovering hesitantly beneath the gift before he finally accepted it. Sarang clasped his hands together in anticipation.

Lucian pulled out the white card with gold trimming and smiled at Sarang’s beautiful handwritten calligraphy. He knew how proud Sarang was of his handwriting. He always attached a note whenever he gifted him something.

“This is unlike any other gift I have given. I hope it finds you well, and may your days be as pleasant as the morning dew. Sarang.”

Lucian read the message aloud and smiled as Sarang’s cheeks flushed.

“You didn’t need to read it out.” Sarang muttered with a pout.

“You said there was nothing this year.” Lucian said, carefully unwrapping the gift.

“I lied.” Sarang heaved a nervous sigh. “I wasn’t sure about my gift.”

“Any gift from you is acceptable.”

“Even a pebble?”

“Especially a pebble.”

They laughed, and the wrapping finally came undone.

Lucian opened the box and his lips twitched.

It was a perfume bottle.

He lifted the cool glass bottle from its packaging and inhaled from the nozzle of the bottle. The scent was earthy and gentle on his nose, yet intoxicatingly pleasant.

“Do you like it?” Sarang asked nervously.

The perfume had been made for him.

Lucian smiled. He spritzed the perfume onto his collar before placing the bottle back in the box.

“I adore it.” Lucian’s voice deepened. “How do I smell? I hear perfumes have different scents on different people.”

Sarang inched closer, closing the gap between them as he lowered his nose toward Lucian’s collar. He closed his eyes and inhaled the petrichor fragrance of the perfume, blending seamlessly with Lucian’s pheromones and the faint scent of bourbon.

It was intoxicating. Seductive,

Sarang lost his balance and fell into Lucian’s chest.

His flushed cheeks turned bright red as Lucian caught him, laughing heartily at his intoxicated stupor.

“Stop laughing at me.” Sarang muttered, shrinking into Lucian’s arms. He hadn’t felt this small in his master’s embrace since his coming of age, even though he was naturally on the lithe, shorter side.

“You always give me a reason to smile.” Lucian joked and Sarang folded his arms with a pout.

“Not while I’m making a fool of myself.”

“I don’t think of you as a fool.” Lucian smiled softly. “I think you’re exhilarating and handsome.”

Sarang’s gaze caught Lucian’s.

Their noses were so close that he could feel Lucian’s warm breath brushing against his lips. He swallowed slowly, his heartbeat seeming to slow as his gaze lingered in Lucian’s deep eyes, filled with an unmistakable tenderness... At him?

He felt Lucian’s thumb pressed against his cool palm, hot and firm, as the older alpha inched closer. He moved slowly enough that Sarang could push him away, enough to stop this before it went any further.

But he didn’t.

A part of him yearned for it in a way he couldn’t explain.

With Nathan, it was exciting, fun, and anxious all at once. But this moment with his master…

With him, this felt right.

Complete.

Intimate.

Sarang’s eyes fluttered closed when their lips came so close they were almost touching.

Lucian ached to kiss him. He yearned for him, but—

He retracted slightly, his gaze dropping to Sarang’s plump, pink lips before his fingers brushed against the engagement ring on Sarang’s hand.

Lucian shut his eyes, pulled Sarang into an embrace, and buried his face against his right shoulder.

Sarang gasped in surprise.

“Sarang…” Lucian’s voice broke, carrying a deep vulnerability and almost desperate sincerity. “Do not marry Nathaniel.”

Sarang’s breath hitched, and he jolted upright, his face utterly flustered. He covered his mouth with his fingertips and shook his head in disbelief as he tried to regain his senses.

“I can’t.”

“You’ll only hurt each other because you won’t be truly happy.”

“I will because I—I love…” Sarang wasn’t sure why he was stuttering. He had already decided he was going to be with Nathan and fight for Lucian’s approval, but the alpha had a way of making him irresolute.

“I love him.”

“Surely you do. I don’t doubt that.”

Lucian heaved a quiet sigh and stood, regaining his composure. The softness in his voice sharpened as he replaced it with his usual stoic expression.

“Thank you for your gift. I will use it well.”

He gave Sarang a gentle smile, patted his shoulder, and walked away steadily.

Sarang bit his lip, then crouched onto the floor and slipped his fingers through his hair, gripping it firmly.

What was wrong with him?

Mr. Sebastian was right.

Things would never be the same again between him and master. That fleeting, half-hearted, sinful desire, that lingering attachment he had refused to let go of, was causing nothing but misery and pain.

I’m only hurting master.