“Uh, I—I need to use the restroom….”
One clerk started to rise, then, as everyone’s attention focused, they made an unhappy face and mumbled an excuse. The unbelievably beautiful man in the inner room averted his gaze as if he couldn’t care less.
Normally, the clerk would’ve been sad to lose a beauty’s attention, but right now, that indifference was a blessing. As the clerk vanished under a barrage of envy from the people around them, those seated at nearby desks stole a cautious glance toward the inner room.
Back when they’d first heard that Sasha Ambrose had returned to the capital, the Imperial Palace clerks had found it interesting—but they’d thought it was someone else’s problem.
They assumed that even if they were in the same palace, there was no way they’d ever get tangled up with Sasha Ambrose.
Even if he’d been demoted to Viscount, he was still someone who’d only ever mixed with high-ranking nobles.
A person who would never, ever have anything to do with low-ranking nobles like them, or with commoners.
They figured his return to the capital must be tied to some higher-ups’ interests.
But then, incredibly, Sasha Ambrose started working in the emperor’s study—and that brought a huge change to their lives.
The most obvious one was the emperor’s study door, which had been flung wide open for some time now.
They might be working with His Majesty, but there’d been psychological—and physical—comfort in having a thick door between them. And that was gone.
On top of that, in the past, His Majesty had worked here with them only two or three times a week, and usually handled affairs in his private study—but after Sasha Ambrose arrived, His Majesty was now coming here every single day.
If they so much as lifted their heads, they could see His Majesty working without rest, and the clerks could no longer relax for even a moment.
…To be precise, it wasn’t because of His Majesty.
It was because of the beautiful man seated right beside His Majesty.
“I want to go out too.”
The small mutter echoed through the quiet space, and an icy response returned immediately.
“Then go.”
A reply that flew in without even looking up made the clerk’s face drain white. It wasn’t easy for a voice that pleasant to the ear to sound so terrifying.
They felt like there had been a time when, seeing Sasha Ambrose up close for the first time, they’d been thrilled.
Now, the Imperial Palace clerks were all afraid of him.
The moment those clear blue eyes—framed by fluttering long lashes—landed on them, the clerks tensed their bodies tight.
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t spewing abuse. And yet when they met those flat, emotionless eyes, their backs straightened on their own.
Was it because of his overwhelming beauty? Maybe they were frightened in advance by that appearance, dazzling and lavish from head to toe, with not a single gap to approach.
If they lifted their heads without thinking and met that delicately sculpted, inhuman face, their minds snapped awake.
The half-revealed forehead, the high bridge of his nose, the unbelievable line from lips to jaw, his posture—perfect and unbroken—the pen that never stopped moving, and the pale, pretty hand holding it. If they stared blankly at all that, it felt like a different air flowed around Sasha Ambrose, an air that had nothing to do with them.
That beauty that made even the dust floating in sunlight look special.
Wow. He’s seriously beautiful.
Ever since the study door had been opened, the clerks had grown used to conversing soundlessly with only their mouths.
At one clerk’s words, another hurriedly nodded.
He doesn’t look human.
Whether in a good way or a bad way.
They’d tense for no reason at the slightly furrowed eyes, as if the brightness bothered him—and then, at the faintest shift in that expressionless face, their gaze would keep getting pulled back.
And if their eyes met, they’d get scared again—yet they couldn’t bring themselves to look away.
Then, the light touching Sasha Ambrose’s face vanished.
Huh? The clerks, puzzled, noticed something—then flushed bright red and slammed their heads down at their desks.
No way.
Their pupils trembling wildly as if they couldn’t believe what they’d seen, they looked around and found coworkers wearing the same expression, then mouthed wordlessly.
Right?
Right!
His Majesty—His Majesty—
Noticing that the Viscount was squinting in the glare, His Majesty had personally blocked the sunlight for him.
The clerks clapped hands over their mouths and screamed silently.
With documents? He blocked it with documents, right?
At a coworker’s question, pointing toward a high stack of documents on one side, another answered.
That, and he adjusted how he was sitting.
What?
Only then did the other clerk realize His Majesty was sitting in a deeply uncomfortable posture.
His Majesty—who always maintained a straight posture, just like Sasha Ambrose—had pulled his chair at an angle, twisted his body, and was blocking the sun.
What is this, what is this!
It shocks me every time I see it.
Yes—if it wasn’t obvious already, this wasn’t the first time the Imperial Palace clerks had witnessed something like this.
Whenever Sasha Ambrose seemed uncomfortable—or even before he had the chance to feel uncomfortable—His Majesty would step in first and take care of it.
Without letting Sasha Ambrose notice at all.
At that point, isn’t he just pretending not to notice?
And it wasn’t like it had happened once or twice.
The red ink that never ran out no matter how much he used it, the drinks that kept changing by type, the sweet snacks within easy reach if he just stretched out his hand.
And that wasn’t all.
If it looked hot, he’d open a window. If it looked like something was on Sasha’s hand, he’d slide a handkerchief over. Not long ago, he’d even gone as far as brushing aside the hair that kept poking Sasha’s eyes.
No—handkerchiefs, sure, fine. But if someone brushes your hair aside, shouldn’t you at least look at them?
Whether he was that focused on work, or ignoring it on purpose, Sasha Ambrose simply let his head be handled and continued his work like it was natural.
Even tilting his head as if to say not there—here.
And then His Majesty bent forward and, with utmost care, rubbed at the corner of Sasha’s eye.
My god.
They’re dating, aren’t they?
No way.
No matter how good the picture was, they couldn’t forget what kind of relationship those two had had in the past. But still—wasn’t that ridiculously intimate? Wasn’t that area all pink?
Is it because he’s a noble?
What does being a noble have to do with it?
Wouldn’t everything have always been done for him, from start to finish? So he’s just used to receiving it like that.
Look now. When Sasha Ambrose shook his pen as if there was an issue, His Majesty handed over the pen he’d been using. And Sasha Ambrose accepted it as if it were only natural, then passed over the pen he’d been using.
…So that’s it?
I heard it too. They say high-ranking nobles even have servants feeding them at meals.
Don’t be ridiculous.
It was a joke, but honestly, looking at him, you’d believe it if someone said they could feed him and he wouldn’t even blink.
The clerks silently turned their heads, staring at Sasha Ambrose as he worked with single-minded focus—when Edward’s gaze landed on them.
Naturally, the clerks lowered their heads. If they stared at Sasha Ambrose too long, they’d end up getting His Majesty’s attention—and it happened so often now that they were used to it.
Feigning work, the clerks exchanged glances again.
…Is that really okay?
His Majesty and the Viscount look totally fine with it.
But he’s still His Majesty.
Was it really okay?
…He’s brushing at his lips.
Watching His Majesty brush off whatever sugar or crumbs remained near the Viscount’s mouth after eating a biscuit—and the Viscount offering his mouth without a care—the clerks gave up on trying to understand.
But even if they told themselves to just let it go, this was a bit much.
“Let’s go.”
The moment lunch time arrived, His Majesty rose from his seat and approached Sasha Ambrose. A beat late, Sasha replied.
“How long are we going to keep eating together? Can’t you simply have separate meals prepared? It’s uncomfortable.”
After taking everything, what was he calling uncomfortable? Did he not know what “uncomfortable” meant?
“Tell them to prepare something that digests well.”
His Majesty was His Majesty for answering like that, but the Viscount was impressive too for insisting on spelling it out.
“Well. Food isn’t the problem.”
“How unfortunate.”
At His Majesty’s reply—completely unaffected—the Viscount shrugged.
“By the way, the Young Duke Grenville isn’t here again today?”
Did he not know the Young Duke had been reassigned because of him?
“The Young Duke is busy.”
“Well, of course. He is a Young Duke.”
At the strange tone, the clerks silently mouthed words.
That’s sarcasm, right?
Probably.
What’s he even saying?
The Young Duke is busy, and you’re not? Why do you keep lurking around in front of him?
At someone’s interpretation, the clerks bristled. Wasn’t that too much? What a snake—taking everything he’s offered, then acting like this!
As their eyes sharpened, Sasha Ambrose spoke like it was nothing.
“But.”
What now—what was he going to nitpick? The clerks watched with faces even more furious, when the Viscount’s hand naturally reached toward His Majesty.
“Just like you used to, you get a lot on yourself.”
Tap—his finger poked His Majesty’s chin. Sure enough, there was a faint smear of ink there.
“Ah.”
The clerks believed every one of His Majesty’s mistakes happened because he was too focused on Viscount Ambrose.
“Don’t you have a handkerchief?”
But the Viscount didn’t seem to think so at all. Did he really have no idea how much His Majesty took care of him?
Watching the two, the clerks waited for His Majesty to pull out a handkerchief and wipe his chin.
His Majesty always carried more than two handkerchiefs for the Viscount, and today he hadn’t used a single one—there had to be a spare.
But His Majesty closed his mouth.
…?
Question marks floated over the clerks’ heads, and Viscount Ambrose—staring at His Majesty coolly—pulled a handkerchief from his own breast and rubbed His Majesty’s chin.
“You’re a lot of work.”
What is this, seriously?
One of the clerks, watching the two walk away, whispered.
“I’m telling you, just don’t think about it.”
People like us can stare all day and still won’t understand. Their coworkers nodded in unison.
“…Yeah. I think they’re the same.”
It was like neither of them had any idea what they were doing.