Aurein's POV
"G-General Voltaire, w-wait..." I said, eyes squeezed shut. I could feel it—our lips were so close that the slightest movement, the tiniest breath, would make them touch.
Curiosity burned through my panic. I cracked one eye open, just barely, to see what he was doing.
He was smiling at me.
Teasing.
Mocking.
Enjoying every second of my suffering.
My eyes flew wide open and I shoved him away from me with all the strength my very embarrassed soul could gather.
"Did you seriously think I was going to kiss you?" he asked, his voice dripping with playful malice.
"N-No! Never! Not once did I think you'd do that! And even if you tried I—I wouldn't allow it!" I said, flustering so hard my voice cracked. I refused to look at him, especially since he was still half-naked in front of me. "Just... j-just put some clothes on!"
I darted out of his hut.
The moment the air hit me outside, I finally breathed—this long, desperate breath of relief—and touched my lips without thinking.
"I really thought he was going to kiss me..." I whispered to myself.
Good. Good that he didn't.
But then why... why did a tiny part of me feel disappointed?
"Arrgh! Pull yourself together, Aurein! Same-gender romance is forbidden in our kingdom!" I muttered, lightly thumping my forehead with my palm as if I could knock these treacherous feelings out of my skull.
But then... I remembered again.
His body.
His face.
His lips... just a breath away from mine.
"No! Absolutely not!" I said through gritted teeth.
"I can hear you, Prince Aurein. Why are you talking to yourself?" he teased from inside the hut. "Wait for me. I'm almost dressed. We'll go back to the warriors together."
"I'm leaving first!" I snapped.
I wanted to walk away. Truly.
But as I stood facing the flap of cloth that served as the hut's door...
...a shameful part of me wanted to walk back inside just to look at his body again.
Aurein, what is wrong with you?!
Why do I feel... excited!?
No, I just got pressured by his aura, that's why I didn't run away that time!
I exhaled sharply, heat crawling up my neck. And then—he stepped out.
General Voltaire emerged wearing only the lower half of his training gear. No shirt. No armor. Just skin, muscle, and arrogance on full display as if the gods sculpted him specifically to torment me.
"Didn't you say you'd go ahead? Why are you still here?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I—I thought you might not follow. And then no one would eat because you are not there to command them. I was just... making sure," I explained stiffly.
Well... partly true.
The other part?
Maybe I just wanted another look. Even though I was resisting it. Hard.
"Let's go. I'm starving," he said and began walking.
I followed him with a huff.
"You made us suffer. You nearly starved us to death!" I said irritably.
"I didn't intend that, Prince Aurein. Discipline is part of training. I'm teaching my warriors proper conduct," he said sternly.
"Well, about that... I just want to say—I admire you," I said, smiling at him.
But instead of being flattered, he looked horrified—disgusted, even—and slapped his hand over my face.
"What is wrong with you?! I'm complimenting you!" I protested, peeling his hand off.
"Your smile bothers me," he said flatly.
"You're unbelievable!" I grumbled. "I don't mean romantically! I'm only saying it because the warriors told me why they're loyal to you—Ton-Ton, Asper, Dante, and the others. They owe you so much. When other armies rejected them, it was you who welcomed them."
"They told you that?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "I only took them in because I was bored."
"Sometimes you say the stupidest things," I said, exasperated.
He laughed softly and rested his hand on my head.
"I was joking. I saw their determination. I couldn't reject that. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. It's up to us how we turn them into advantages," he said.
"That's why you amaze me, General Voltaire," I said quietly.
"My father used to tell me—back when he was still alive—not to judge a person by the surface. He told me to feel their heart, their determination, their character," he said.
"I wish you inherited all of your father's sanity. But apparently you didn't," I teased. "I've seen him and talked to him before. He's more courteous than you are!"
"You really don't know when to stop, do you?" he said, and flicked my forehead.
"Ow!"
And then—he didn't remove his hand. Instead, he ruffled my hair, keeping himself close to me as we walked.
We were so close... too close.
Anyone looking at us would think we were lovers.
By the time we reached the warriors' area, everyone had fallen silent. All eyes were on us, wide and stunned, as if they had seen a ghost.
It was then I realized how close General Voltaire and I still were.
I instantly distanced myself, stepping away before any of them got the wrong ideas.
"Be grateful Prince Aurein begged me to spare you. Had he not knelt before me and pleaded—"
"I did NOT do that! Stop saying things like that!" I hissed sharply under my breath.
General Voltaire ignored me and continued addressing the warriors. "If any of you cause another commotion over food again, I will not show mercy. The punishment next time will be severe. Now, line up. Prince Aurein will be the one serving your meal."
"Don't order me around. I know what I'm supposed to do," I said irritably as I marched toward the large iron cauldron. "Come, all of you. I'll fill your bowls."
I forced a smile at the warriors as they approached.
One by one, I scooped food into their wooden bowls while General Voltaire stood off to the side—silent, arms crossed, watching me.
Naturally.
When I caught his gaze, I scowled at him and stuck my tongue out like a child.
He only grinned... that slow, infuriating, confident grin that hit me square in the chest like an arrow—warm, teasing, dangerous. My cheeks heated in response.
I immediately snapped my attention back to the warriors.
"You're really annoying, General Voltaire. Why does your stupid grin make my heart flutter?" I whispered to myself.
"Did you say something, Prince Aurein?" Dante asked—he was next in line.
"Ah! Nothing. Ignore me," I said, quickly ladling food into his bowl.
After I served the last warrior, I expected General Voltaire to approach me for his portion.
But instead, he walked straight to his men, asking if they liked the food, urging them to eat more, making sure they were fine—despite punishing them earlier.
No matter how strict he acted, he still cared. Deeply.
I sighed, grabbed an extra bowl, filled it with food—adding more meat—and approached him.
"General Voltaire, here. Eat," I said.
He turned, startled, hand flying to his chest.
"Prince Aurein, what an honor to be served by you!" he said dramatically.
"Oh, stop acting. It doesn't suit you," I said, rolling my eyes. "Just think of it as repayment for saving me. I even added extra meat."
I held the bowl with both hands.
He smiled—softly this time—and rested his right hand gently on my head.
"You're welcome," he said.
That simple touch...
That warm palm on my hair...
My heart skipped—no, leaped—inside my chest. For a second, even the wind around us seemed to shift.
He took the bowl from my hands.
I immediately turned away, almost too fast, and hurried back to the cauldron.
Even now... I couldn't understand it.
It wasn't just because I had seen his body earlier.
It wasn't just because he teased me about kissing me.
Was I...
Was I actually developing feelings for the General?
Impossible.
We are both men—and in Ardentia, that alone was forbidden. And he wasn't even interested in men. He liked women. Always women.
And me? I was a prince. I couldn't just fall for anyone. My future was tied to my kingdom.
I sighed, pushing my thoughts aside. They were useless. Dangerous, even.
So I took my own bowl of food, sat down quietly, and tried to calm the storm inside me.
A storm named General Voltaire.
* * *
After we finished eating and everyone had rested, we all lined up once more—forming a clean, precise formation in the training grounds.
And there I was, standing in the very front, dead center, as if I truly belonged to this army.
General Voltaire stood before us, posture straight, presence sharp as a blade, giving out commands like a man carved from discipline itself.
"For today's training, we will focus on sword combat," he said. "Find a partner. You'll train in pairs—one attacks, one defends."
At once, everyone moved. Warriors paired up so fast it felt like watching birds instinctively flock into place.
By the time I turned around to choose someone, every single one of them had already found a partner.
They weren't even pretending to look around.
They had all chosen.
And I... was the only one left standing.
"Looking for your partner?" General Voltaire asked as he stepped beside me, tone maddeningly casual. "You won't find one, Prince Aurein. I only have fifty warriors. Now that you've joined us, the numbers are uneven. So..." He tapped his chest. "I will be your partner."
"No! Isn't there anyone else?" I said awkwardly.
"And why not?" he asked, raising a brow. "Didn't you say you wanted me to personally teach you how to handle a weapon? Well—here I am."
I winced internally.
Fair point.
I did say that.
Well... If it's to improve my skills, then truly, no one surpasses General Voltaire.
"Fine! But I'm only doing this because I have no choice," I said.
"Of course," he said with that infuriating grin. "Since you've never held a sword before, we'll start from scratch."
He drew the sword hanging by his waist, the steel gleaming under the daylight.
Then he handed it to me.
The moment my hands wrapped around the hilt, I realized—far too late—that his sword was ridiculously heavy. I nearly dropped it right then and there.
But before it slipped from my grip, General Voltaire swiftly caught my hands, steadying the blade.
"Careful. Don't drop my sword, Prince Aurein," he said while keeping his hands firmly over mine, eyes locked with mine. "My sword is quite heavy. I'm certain your arms will ache tomorrow."
"This is your fault if my arms hurt!" I said irritably, unable to meet his gaze for long. "A-And... are you not letting go?"
"If I let go, can you promise you won't drop my sword?" he asked.
"I-I'll try!"
He slowly, almost too gently, withdrew his hands.
The moment he released me, the sword's full weight dragged downward.
I used all my strength to keep it from falling. I needed both hands. Even then, the tip still touched the ground.
"Try lifting it, Prince Aurein," he said.
I tried.
Nothing happened.
"Why is this thing so heavy?! Don't you have a lighter one?!" I complained.
He shook his head and smirked.
"It seems we need to start from the very beginning. And perhaps... have a sword forged just for you—something you can actually lift. You won't be able to wield mine. It's far too big for you."
While he spoke...
I realized I wasn't listening.
Because my eyes were not on the sword.
They were on him.
On his—
"Prince Aurein, are you listening?" he asked, leaning in slightly. "Your attention seems... elsewhere. On my other sword, perhaps. Do you want to hold that one instead?"
"What—? You're insane!" I yelped, heat exploding across my face.
"Focus, Prince Aurein," he said seriously. "Look at your comrades."
I turned and saw the other warriors practicing with full intensity and determination.
"Sorry..." I muttered, then looked back at him. "Can I use something lighter? Maybe a wooden sword for now. I won't learn anything if I start immediately with this. I should understand the stance and movements first."
"If that is what you want, Prince Aurein," he said gently, retrieving his massive sword with effortless grace. "Wait here."
He turned and walked back to an armory hut—just a short distance from where we stood—his broad shoulders moving with that effortless, disciplined grace that only seasoned warriors possessed. When he emerged again, he carried a wooden training sword in one hand, the polished surface catching the late-afternoon light.
He offered it to me, and my chest tightened with a sudden flicker of excitement.
"This," I said as I took the dummy sword, feeling its weight settle into my palm, "this feels much better for me."
"Are you ready for our training?" he asked.
"Sure!" I said with a grin.
"Good." He moved to stand beside me, close enough that I could feel the faint warmth radiating from his body. "Then follow every movement I make—and everything I say," he said.
I straightened up beside him, eyes fixed on my lowered wooden sword. That was when his fingers—strong, warm, calloused—lifted gently beneath my chin.
"First," he said quietly, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw before guiding my face forward, "eyes ahead. Do not bow. A warrior never bends from the weight of his blade."
My breath caught for a moment. Why did his hands have to feel like that?
Before I could recover my composure, he stepped behind me and nudged my left foot forward—firmly. Too firmly.
"Your left foot—one step ahead," he commanded.
I obeyed immediately... and nearly toppled over because I misjudged the angle.
He caught me.
His arm wrapped around my waist in one swift motion, his grip solid, grounding me before I could fall. His breath brushed my ear.
"Prince Aurein..." he whispered, making my whole spine stiffen. "How will you fight if you can't even control your own balance?"
"You—you kicked me, that's why I couldn't adjust right away!" I said, embarrassed and flustered, refusing to look directly at him even though he was still holding me by the waist... still looking straight into my eyes.
He said nothing. He simply stared at me—too intensely. Too close.
I swallowed. "W-What? Do I have dirt on my face?" I asked in irritation, looking away even as my cheeks burned.
"No." His voice dipped lower—dangerously gentle. "I just realized up close... your eyes are beautiful. There's a hint of green and blue. Like the ocean."
"Stop that!" I snapped, pulling myself upright and brushing imaginary dust from my clothes to hide my embarrassment. My entire face felt scorching hot.
He chuckled under his breath. "Why? Are you blushing because of what I said?" he teased.
"No! Why would I blush over someone like you—tricky, annoying, and infuriating!" I said, crossing my arms in defiance.
He didn't answer this time.
And when I glanced at him as he was standing behind me... he was flexing on purpose.
His arms—ridiculously toned. His abs—visible. He knew exactly what he was doing.
He was teasing me.
Or... was I the one getting teased simply because I was already attracted?
Ugh. Annoying.
"Can we just start over!" I said sharply and focused on the wooden sword I'm holding.
"As you wish, my lovely princess," he whispered.
"General! Not that again! I thought you were done calling me ridiculous things!" I grumbled. "Let's get serious!"
"I am serious now," he said, although I know he isn't. He stepped closer again, adjusting my posture. "Now—fix your grip. Hold the handle firmly. And mind the angle. Not too low, not too high."
"Like this?" I asked, raising the sword to show him.
"The tip is too low," he said.
So I raised it a little higher.
"Now it's too high. Lower it... just a bit."
I followed... aware that with each adjustment, he leaned in just a little closer... and closer... until his breath mingled with mine and my hands trembled around the sword—not from fear, but from something far more frustrating.
"Your shoulders—relax them. They're too stiff. You'll tire quickly," he said.
I tried. I really did. But somehow, I still couldn't get the posture right.
So he stepped closer behind me.
And placed both of his hands on my shoulders.
His palms were warm—too warm. Large enough that it felt like he was holding more than just my shoulders. Like he was anchoring me... steadying me... claiming every inch of tension I had.
"Relax your shoulders," he said gently, his voice calm and low as he adjusted my stance. "You're too tense."
"I—I'll fix it! I'm fixing it now!" I said, flustered, exhaling a deep breath as I forced my body to relax.
"There. Just like that," he said—in a voice so low and smooth it practically melted into my ears, sending a strange weakness down my spine.
What was happening to me?
Why was my brain malfunctioning?
Why did his voice suddenly sound like an enchantment?
"Next, fix your grip on the sword," he said.
And then he made everything ten times worse.
His hands slid down from my shoulders to my arms... then to my hands... guiding them.
And for the record, he was still behind me.
It felt like he was wrapping his entire body around mine.
His arms, much larger than mine, framed me completely. His chest brushed the back of my shoulder when he leaned in. I felt caged—trapped—in a very warm, very muscular prison.
Not that I... disliked it.
Argh! What was I thinking?!
"Hold your sword firmly," he said, his hands enclosing mine on the hilt. "Whatever happens, never let go. Keep your grip tight. Never let go of it."
I swallowed hard, unable to form words. My brain had completely shut down. My knees felt weak—too weak—and it didn't help that it felt like he was embracing me from behind.
"Raise the tip of your sword a little more. Make sure the edge is at eye level," he said.
I lifted it slightly. "Like this?" I asked.
"Let me check."
That was when he leaned in closer.
Far too close.
He positioned his head beside mine, our faces suddenly at the same level—so close that if I look at him, my lips will hover dangerously near his cheek.I froze completely.
"Yup. Just like that, Prince Aurein," he said, and when I turned my head to look at him, accidentally because of reflex and not in purpose...he also turned.
Our eyes met.
Hazel brown. Warm. Intense enough to stop my world.
"See? You understand it now, right?" he asked softly.
I couldn't answer.
I couldn't breathe.
My heart felt like it was trying to escape through my ribs.
My eyes, then started focusing on his lips, as if I felt that I was leaning too close to it.
Then—
"Aurein!"
A voice thundered from behind us.
I jerked away and spun around.
"F-Father! W-What are you doing here?" I said, wide-eyed.
The King stood there, brows furrowed deeply—as if he had walked in on something that absolutely did not look like sword training. At all.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
His stare flicked between us—between me, and General Voltaire, practically hovering behind me like he had been teaching me... or embracing me.
He definitely will interpret this the wrong way!
End of Chapter 8