Episode 117. Why Not Warm My Bed Too2024.01.25.Fearing something might happen, the escorts, greatly increased in number, surrounded the black mansion.

Clade and Marquis Rev entrusted their horses to the squires and headed straight to Clade’s study.

The butler Gustav, surprised by his master’s early return, took the coats of the three men one by one.Eddie hurriedly instructed the servants near the study to clear out.

Eddie Rev waited until the sound of the servants’ footsteps had completely faded before firmly closing the study door and pulling a letter from his coat.

As Clade took it and read, a slightly excited voice echoed in the study.

“I didn’t expect the south to contact us first. We’ll need to dig into what their intentions are behind sending this congratulatory message.”

“Isn’t it better to head there quickly when there’s a lead? Honestly, with the bad rumors about Clade, it’s surprising they reached out so soon.”

“Idiot. Lancelot, who trusts and just rushes in? The south is where Empress Marilyn’s family is from. It’s the domain of Marquis Companni.”

“Who was it that just said we should go to the south?”

“That was just a quick read. Looking closely, the sender isn’t even clear. It’s not a proper invitation. Just talk of gratitude for past favors and congratulations on the title. How do you go to the south without a destination?”

Clade remained silent, still reading the letter.

Unlike the heated momentum of the Rev brothers’ debate, Clade’s response was quite simple.

“I was planning to go to the south from the start.”

The brothers, who had been pointing fingers and arguing, simultaneously turned to look at Clade.Clade, with a tired face, loosened his cravat.

“Give the knights rooms and let them rest. It’s a long journey, and the horses need rest too.”

“Who is it? Who’s sending sweet words without revealing themselves? Talking about owing favors and finally sending regards.”

Eddie, glaring at the letter that instructed to reply via the same messenger bird, frowned slightly.

The letter’s content mainly congratulated Clade on breaking his curse and becoming Count Roxenhardt, expressing gratitude for past favors.

“A guy holed up in his mansion—what kind of favor could he have done to repay?”

“You’ll find out when we go. And it’s not necessarily to meet the sender of this letter. The south holds a swordsmanship tournament every summer.”

“You’re not seriously—?”

“There’ll be a lot of armed men gathered. It’s a chance to sit back, enjoy the festival, and observe them. Going to the south suddenly during that time would raise suspicions.”

“So, you’re saying we go to the south early and spend the summer social season there.”

Eddie Rev slapped his knee, his expression brightening.

“Harol Companni sticks close to Bollonico, so the south’s surveillance is probably weaker. Alright, good. It’s a chance to see all the martial families we could pull to our side at once. After the tournament, they’ll surely throw parties, so we can gauge their political leanings then!”

Eddie seemed thrilled at the thought of doing something substantial.

“You kept your mouth shut the whole way here like it was glued, and you were thinking this cleverly! Clade, you deserve a rest. Rest well! I’ll arrange a townhouse for our stay in the south and pay extra to the informants to gather the latest intel!”

Eddie rattled off praise for Clade as if reciting a rehearsed script.

Eddie had secretly cheered every time Clade, in Glory Hall, trampled over the northern or western figures who were usually a thorn in his side, even if just brushing past their collars.

It was as if Clade had a third eye on his forehead, picking out exactly those Eddie didn’t want to side with.

Moreover, despite bringing a tense entourage of escorts, there was no interference from the Emperor or Bollonico.

Bollonico’s disapproving glares or the Emperor’s smiling face, which made you want to throw a punch, were infuriating, but safely completing the title ceremony and returning to Roxenhardt was what mattered.

Of course, they wouldn’t let their guard down, but it felt like they’d crossed a major hurdle.

Eddie, suppressing his hopeful heart for a moment, stared at Clade.

Clade was carelessly tossing off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

Eddie briefly erased the smile from his face and quietly voiced what he’d been thinking the whole way.

“Clade. All that silent thinking—was it about expanding your influence, or rebellion?”

At the word “rebellion,” Lancelot’s body stiffened slightly.

Compared to the suddenly serious faces of the Rev brothers, Clade remained as calm as he had the past few days.

Clade, roughly loosening his clothes, sat in the study chair, leaning back as if sinking into it.

Deep fatigue flowed through the golden hair shadowed in the dim light and his long silhouette.The bored eyes they knew well briefly turned toward the window.

“Eddie.”

“Answer me.”

“Watch your mouth.”

Eddie Rev stiffened, focusing on Clade’s lips.

Staring at those tightly closed lips, Eddie took off his thin glasses and tucked them into his front pocket.

Rubbing the faint marks left by the glasses on his brow, he exhaled heavily with mixed emotions and looked back at Clade.

A barely audible voice reached him.

“Anywhere.”

It’s rebellion.

The brothers stared at Clade’s face, his eyes closed like heavy lead, for a long time before looking at each other.

Unlike Lancelot’s eyes, which wavered but then hardened, Eddie Rev’s eyes crumbled and shook.

Clade Euphris’s words were racing forward without any intention of stopping.

From the day he first confessed his past to them, no, from that day ten years ago with the brutal massacre, they might have slowed at times but never stopped.

Embracing both unease and excitement, Eddie clenched his jaw tightly and left the study.

Only Lancelot’s shadow, who had sensed from the start that Clade’s thoughts never strayed from rebellion, stood firm in place.

Clade refused the women Eddie offered to bring.

He ordered the butler to prepare bathwater, and as soon as the warm water was brought, he immersed himself in it.

Over the tall three-panel partition set at a grown man’s eye level, Lancelot’s caramel-colored eyes peeked out.

Clade, reclining in the tub that perfectly fit his angled body, rested his arms on the edge, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes.

Lancelot’s eyes pierced through Clade’s wet face, which looked utterly exhausted and lonely.

The heavy fatigue weighing on Clade’s soul was vividly clear to Lancelot.

“Peeping creep.”

Clade, eyes still closed, accused Lancelot.Lancelot, without blinking, replied.

“Not eating dinner?”

“You standing there like an idiot just to say that?”

“If you don’t eat, I’ll sleep here. I’ll lay a mat on your study desk, cutely rest my head on my arm, and gaze at you tenderly.”

Clade snorted under his closed eyes.

After staying like that for a while, he frowned slightly and rose from the tub.

As the massive man lifted his water-soaked body, the still-steaming water splashed loudly in all directions.

He roughly threw on the white robe hanging over the partition and stepped out of the tub with wet feet.

Lancelot scurried over the partition and placed soft slippers on the floor.

“Sleep or don’t.”

As if that was all he’d allow, Clade slipped on the slippers, towel-drying his hair as he left the study.

The study had been Clade’s bedroom for the past few months, so this was probably a provocation.But it wasn’t going to work.

Whatever Lancelot was gearing up to say, Clade had no intention of engaging.He was utterly exhausted.

But Lancelot, as if it was his plan all along for Clade to leave the study for his bedroom, casually followed him.

Roughly drying his wet hair, Clade descended the stairs to the second-floor bedroom where he’d lived for the past ten years.

Lancelot’s footsteps followed Clade’s.

Finally arriving at the bedroom door, Clade stood there for a long time.

Only when Lancelot came close did he open the door.

The bedroom, as if always waiting for its master, had lights softly lit here and there.

“What are you doing, not going in?”

“What are you doing, not turning back?”

“I said I’d sleep here if you don’t eat dinner.”

“Sleep in the study.”

“I’m sleeping with you.”

Lancelot tapped the shoulder of Clade, who wasn’t entering the bedroom, and stepped into the darkness first.

Clade, who had stubbornly lingered at the door, finally entered the bedroom.

It was probably the first time he’d entered it since Yuan Pelliese left.

Lancelot glanced at Clade, then, as if amused, whistled and sprawled out on the chaise lounge.

Clade, with a coldly hardened face, brushed his hair back.

“Why not warm my bed too?”

“If you command it.”

“Crazy bastard.”

Clade, too exhausted to continue, passed Lancelot and headed to his rocking chair by the window.

The secret passage under the rocking chair had been temporarily sealed, so not a single beast was there now.

-Creak.

The rocking chair, which had once regained its smoothness, screeched loudly as it greeted its master.

Lancelot, watching Clade, who closed his eyes and surrendered to the chair as before, quietly spoke.

“Clade, if it’s too much, we can go to the south alone. If there’s something to do, just tell us. You haven’t been well for long. Don’t overdo it. Dealing with people takes energy too.”

“You talking to me, a swordmaster, like I’m some puppy you’re raising? Why would I be struggling? Being tired and struggling are completely different. Don’t make a fuss.”

“You weren’t focused.”

The rocking chair’s screeching stopped for a moment.

“At the title ceremony, you.”