After vowing to torment Edward, Sasha worked to create the optimal situation.
It was so he could squeeze out maximum efficiency from a single move.
When is it most humiliating to be tormented?
When your family catches you in the act—or when it happens in front of your subordinates, right?
If he had to compare the two, the worst was the former, but as always, Sasha walked the line perfectly.
Touching him in front of his family is… just too brutal.
He wanted to be the worst, but not too worst.
In Sasha’s experience as a seasoned villain, it was safer to do the second- or third-cruelest thing rather than the single cruelest thing.
Besides, there was a practical problem.
Edward’s biological father—the Emperor—had already been driven out of the Imperial Palace long ago and placed under confinement, and the same went for the adoptive parents and younger siblings: they couldn’t enter the Imperial Palace either.
Sasha had neither the power nor the people to drag them in like puppets, and it wasn’t as though he could leave the palace grounds himself.
So the only option left to Sasha was the Imperial Palace administrators right on the other side of a single door.
Using the administrators’ frequent mistakes in their reports as an excuse, Sasha threw the study doors wide open “to supervise them,” and, blatantly in front of them, began raking Edward over the coals.
It worked pretty well—because the administrators’ eyes on Sasha turned scorching and intense.
Readers would look at me like this too, wouldn’t they?
He hadn’t seen the readers’ reactions again after that day, but people were all the same.
Even today, the administrators’ stares felt like needles on his skin.
And lately, maybe because he’d adjusted to this life, working didn’t even feel that hard anymore.
Is it because the administrators are making fewer mistakes?
Smiling with quiet satisfaction, Sasha absentmindedly ate the chocolate served as dessert—then froze.
Ugh.
…There was liquor in it.
And not a little. The liquor was strong.
“What is it?”
Edward turned to him, catching Sasha’s discomfort like a ghost. After a few days of tormenting him, his sense for it had gotten faster. But Sasha shook his head and forced the chocolate down.
Why would you put liquor in perfectly good chocolate?
Sasha stole a look at Edward, who ate his chocolate like it was nothing.
If he was saying it now, the truth was: Sasha was hopeless with alcohol.
He could survive one glass of wine, but anything beyond that was impossible.
Whenever he mingled with nobles or plotted a rebellion, alcohol came with it so naturally—and every time, Sasha suffered, constantly having to dispose of it without anyone noticing.
The one saving grace—he wasn’t sure it was truly a saving grace—was that when Sasha got drunk, his face turned even paler.
So this time should be fine too.
It’s not even a full glass. It’s just whatever was inside the chocolate.
Even if the proof was high, it wasn’t even a mouthful. No matter how weak he was, this shouldn’t cause a problem.
And yet, his hands started to burn with heat.
I’m screwed.
A pale face with hot hands.
One of the warning signs before he got properly drunk.
Why am I getting drunk already?
Was it because it had been so long?
After the two factions were dealt with and only their side remained, Sasha had issued a ban on drinking to his subordinates, using “focus” as an excuse.
Is this the time to be eating and drinking?
He’d been anxious because the end already felt close. He’d been afraid that if he got drunk, he might spill everything inside him.
And after he lost to Edward and waited in the palace for his punishment, of course there was no chance to drink. Same when he went down to his territory.
If you’re this weak, my lord… drink only after you’ve regained your health.
He remembered the hand that had snatched away the glass the chef brought out, a hand that looked like it belonged to someone who took pride in those solid forearms.
He hadn’t even planned on drinking, but it felt amazing when someone banned it for him without being asked.
Anyway, what Sasha was trying to say was: this was practically his first alcohol in almost a year.
A year, for someone who was weak to begin with.
With zero preparation.
Sasha bit down on his tongue as he stared at Edward’s face, which looked perfectly fine despite eating the same chocolate.
Come to think of it, Edward wasn’t the type to enjoy drinking—yet he could drink like it was water.
Sasha hadn’t seen it in person, but it was all in the novel.
Edward was like that when he worked as a mercenary, and he’d never lost even when some childish noble demanded a drinking contest.
It annoyed him.
Why is it annoying?
Edward wasn’t drunk at all.
So why does that annoy you?
I don’t know. I’m just irritated.
Wow.
Being irritated at literally everything for no reason—this, too, was always part of the process of getting drunk.
But even if it’s been a while, isn’t this way too fast?
It wasn’t normal.
Like it wasn’t alcohol, but something else he’d eaten…?
Poison was found in yesterday’s dinner and today’s breakfast dessert.
Only then did Sasha stupidly remember why he was eating with Edward in the first place.
There is someone in the Imperial Palace who wants you dead, Viscount.
How had he forgotten that?
No. He hadn’t forgotten.
He just hadn’t taken it seriously.
Why? Because nothing had happened after that!
Pathetic!
Letting your guard down—giving you a little breathing room—that was the most common, easiest trap in the world.
How many nobles had he dealt with using that exact method, and he still forgot?
Had he gotten too absorbed in tormenting Edward? Or was it because this was a story, so he’d lazily assumed he would never actually die?
But is it really poison?
If it was poison, he should be reacting more immediately. Other than feeling drunk too fast and his head going foggy, nothing else had changed.
It should hurt.
Like you, collapsing while blood poured out of you.
A vivid red flashed like an afterimage.
Sasha blinked slowly, staring at Edward—who looked so healthy compared to then—when the question came again.
“What is it?”
“…There’s liquor in the chocolate.”
He tried to answer as normally as possible, but the last syllable slurred slightly.
Sure enough, Edward—whose awareness had gotten dangerously sharp lately—noticed immediately.
“Why are your hands so hot?”
Sasha grabbed Edward’s hand reflexively, then hesitated, trying to decide what to say as Edward studied his face.
Should he say he’d been poisoned? Or should he say he was just drunk?
He didn’t know what the right answer was. Was his brain not working?
Yeah—your brain not working was also something that happened often when you were drunk.
“Your face got even paler.”
Sasha leaned his cheek into the large hand cupping his face.
I want to sleep.
The final stage that always came with drunkenness—drowsiness—began to crash over him.
“Sasha.”
He fought the urge to close his eyes, but Edward’s face abruptly came close in the blink of an eye.
“Open your mouth.”
Did Sasha open his mouth? Did Edward force his hand into it?
The hand that had been pressing on his lips was suddenly rummaging inside Sasha’s mouth. When a few rough, long, thick-boned fingers shoved their way in, Sasha’s breath caught.
“I checked thoroughly, but…”
Sasha gagged as Edward swept the inside of his cheek, then jammed fingers down toward his throat. How far is he going? This feels wrong. It hurts.
“Throw up.”
Are you kidding me? It’s been how long since I ate it—like vomiting is going to fix it now?
Sasha snapped his eyes up sharply. Maybe the threat in his expression worked, because Edward sprang back as if giving up, standing abruptly.
Hmph. Good.
Do you even know how scary I am?
Resting his chin on the table, Sasha watched as Edward yanked open the bedside drawer so roughly it looked like he might break it, then pulled out a small box. Edward took out a tiny vial—only about a finger-joint long—and brought it to Sasha’s mouth.
“It’s a neutralizer. Drink it, just in case.”
Sasha swallowed a reflexive mouthful and immediately twisted his face. It tasted like he’d swallowed a hundred doses of herbal medicine at once.
In other words, it tasted like poison.
“…It tastes awful.”
The thought escaped his mouth on its own. Sasha pushed the vial away, and Edward gently stroked down Sasha’s back.
“I know. But you have to drink the remaining three bottles too.”
Sasha forced life back into his limp body and turned his head away.
“No.”
Are you kidding me?
Sasha knew exactly what that was.
The neutralizer he’d anonymously sent Edward—afraid Edward might die from the poison Sasha had fed him, afraid he wouldn’t realize what the poison was and fail to find an antidote, afraid that sending a poison-specific antidote would lead a trail back to him.
So Sasha knew how extraordinary it was.
And he knew the dosage.
A neutralizer used when you’d been hit with an unknown poison—when you still hadn’t found the precise antidote, or when there wasn’t one—was harder to obtain than most antidotes.
Do you have any idea how expensive that is?
And it wasn’t something money could simply buy.
Even Sasha, back when his influence had been at its peak, had barely managed to get his hands on a single bottle.
And now Edward was telling him to drink four?
Sasha worked his lips—lips that felt completely numb, maybe because the bitterness had erased everything.
“…You only need one bottle.”
It was a waste. Four bottles could buy an entire castle. More than that—this was…
“I’m worried. Drink them all.”
It tastes awful.
“Sorry.”
With both cheeks forcibly held in Edward’s big hand, Sasha drank the nauseating, revolting liquid one after another. He felt like the earlier moment—when Edward’s fingers had choked his breathing—had been better. Anything would taste better than this.
If it’s disgusting enough, you can cry too, huh.
An unwanted new discovery.
Sasha glared at Edward with betrayal in his eyes, then bit down—hard—on the hand that pretended to wipe his mouth while pushing the liquid that had dribbled out back in again.
He tried to shove the hand away with his tongue, desperate to spit it out, but Edward didn’t pull back even as Sasha bit him. Furious and wronged, Sasha chewed and chewed on Edward’s hand—then a thunderbolt of a line dropped.
“There’s one more bottle.”
Then you drink it.
Did his meaning get through? Because Edward really did toss the remaining bottle back into his own mouth. Even through the haze, Sasha thought a triumphant laugh escaped him.
But that laugh vanished fast.
A soft touch covered his lips, and a lukewarm liquid flowed into his mouth.
He’d been had.
He should’ve kept biting Edward’s fingers.
Sasha tried to push the liquid out with his tongue like he had before. But something damp and warm kept tangling up his tongue, getting in the way.
“Mm…”
A motion that lightly, slowly tickled his sensitive palate made his throat move.
Gulp.
Sasha swallowed it all. He was furious—yet he couldn’t express it, because his mouth was still blocked.
It was so bitter. What was so good about this that it was still filling his mouth like this?
If the goal was achieved, it should’ve pulled away. Instead, the joining deepened further.
“Hn—”
Something soft slid across his teeth and traced his tongue, making a wet, sticky sound, and Sasha’s mind went distant. No—was it that he couldn’t breathe?
With hands that barely held strength, Sasha pushed weakly. The other person hesitated, then slowly pulled back.
A hot, damp breath burst out.
Lips that hovered so close they looked ready to touch again brushed Sasha’s lips—barely—while Sasha panted.
Under trembling lids, Sasha’s gold eyes were unfocused and hazy.
Edward looked straight into them.
And that was the last thing Sasha saw before he lost consciousness.