Chapter Text
‘What the fuck’ could not even begin to cover the complexity of emotions Till was currently experiencing. He wanted nothing more than to go home. How the hell was he supposed to describe the absurdities happening to him?
From the impaled pig head on the silver platter to the grinning duke presenting it to him like some gag gift. Who in their right mind would enjoy that? This fiasco of a dinner was giving Till a raging headache.
Oh, right, and this was how he would describe his current situation and how it had built up to this.
-
All it had taken was for him to fall asleep in his bed while reading this popular web novel he had seen plastered everywhere. Sweet Dreams was its name. From what he had gathered, the story was a tragedy like no other, seasoned with death and misery like a gourmet meal.
The introduction was light and easy to digest. It followed the 5 years old heroine Mizi and her journey from a little orphanage in the west to the marquess’ manor in the north of the Anakt kingdom. There she would bloom like a flower. Bright, cheerful and outgoing. She brought colours into the dukedom as if the icy territory was her canvas and she was the masterful painter of the century.
The entire first volume was dedicated to her life in the dukedom. How she befriended the duke’s son, Ivan, and how they were eventually betrothed to one another. Although political in nature, the two were close friends. And while the winter lasted all year around, the dukedom was filled with warm people. Rough around the edges, sure, but there was no one who disliked her, and this fact would cause numerous issues in the future.
In the second volume, misfortune and sin quickly began to tear apart the carefully nurtured happiness. The unsolved murders of her biological parents, corruption within the royal family, famine among the citizens, gathering of a rebellion, the assassination of her best friend Sua, and obsessive love interests, just to name a few.
Even gods had forsaken the lands of Anakt, taking magic and blessings along with them. The poor girl could hardly catch a break, and yet she remained a beacon of hope to the best of her ability.
Sure, it was cliche, but who cared? Most fans loved Mizi, Till included. Her honest emotions were pure and full of life despite the miserable plot. It gave plenty of potential for character development and growth, and her kind personality was by no means a weakness, in his humble opinion. She was strong and like an angel, and Till admired that.
In the third chapter - Black Sorrow - the audience got a glimpse of Ivan’s background. Truth be told, Till mostly briefed through it. The words hardly registered so late into the night. Besides, the volume barely mentioned Mizi. He was interested in Mizi’s story, not some duke’s, even if said duke was her close friend.
The most notable moments within Black Sorrow was Mizi’s first encounter with Ivan and how their friendship had blossomed from there. The second was the mention of her later kidnapping incident which Ivan saved her from. It was a minor villain - twisted and sadistic - who had attempted to kidnap her, and was promptly beheaded in the cruellest way Till could possibly imagine. Anyone the scumbag had brought along with him were brutally punished in a similar fashion. Every single one. Till was sure the authors were some kind of sadists themselves.
Though the gruesome description, the bastard had it coming. Who the hell disguised a kidnapping attempt as a business trip or whatever, travelling all the way from the south of Anakt to the north? Even if he was only a tool to elevate Ivan’s character, he was one obsessed freak.
If given the opportunity, Till would have loved to throttle the fucker. The trash villain, not Ivan. Well, perhaps Ivan too for some of his later actions which had caused Mizi distress.
Till had just reached the introduction of the rising rebellion when his vision blurred and eyes shut against his will. Right, at this point it was closer to dawn than midnight. He had forgotten about that tiny detail.
From what he had heard, the latest volume had everyone dropping like flies. Mizi was spiralling into despair and grief as the great kingdom of Anakt tore itself apart along with its people.
The civil war had claimed countless lives. Mizi had gone from being beloved by all to clinging to the few left breathing. Sua, Ivan, Hyuna, her parents, her siblings, her friends, her people, even Luka the crown prince himself. They had all crumbled or vanished in some way, shape or form from her life, allegedly.
But what did Till know? That was just what some random threads had spoiled. Admittedly, the silver hair found it easier to consume media he was half interested in through dumbed down summaries, and only later deep dived into fan theories and analyses if intrigued enough. Not to mention the fan artists. As a fellow artist himself, Till was impressed by what the community created out of love for the series.
Sadly, Till hardly had time to sit down and invest in every single franchise which caught his eye. Nevertheless, he had heard good things about Sweet Dreams. Besides, there was no way he could possibly read faster than the volumes were published with the amount of workload he had. He had done this to himself though.
It was difficult enough to immerse himself into the media he was supposed to voice act in alongside his guitar activities as a solo artist and university work. But hey, despite the business of it all, Till enjoyed this bustling life of his. It was awesome getting paid for all the silly voices he made while composing, and people listened when he plucked the strings of his electric guitar. Neither were his studies half bad either when the subjects were all topics he enjoyed.
Till could not do that here though. There were no study materials in this western styled horse carriage as it trotted down some dirt path. No pen or paper to scribble or compose on either, and his servants had put his only instrument in his luggage somewhere. It was all thanks to his personal butler’s instructions. Till shuttered at the thought of him. That man was scarily competent.
While this lazy life would have been Heaven for any other university student it was not for Till. It only made him feel restless, unproductive, and stressed out of his mind, but he had to begrudgingly accept it.
The only options he could think of to entertain himself with were to tap his gloved finger and hum a song, peek through the closed curtains as if the scenery would be any different than from ten minutes ago, or simply sleep.
Till lifted the silky curtains for the nth time out of pure boredom, letting teal eyes roam the never changing white. There was snow outside. Snow, frost and rime as far as the eye could see which backed up the chilly temperature. Yet oddly enough, he was not shivering. Not even remotely. It had been like this ever since they had crossed the northern border.
Despite the freezing climate, the carriage was more than comfortable. In fact, it was absurdly luxurious and sturdy for its era. The young duke sure knew how to spoil his guests, huh.
It only made the silver hair uncomfortable. This was abnormal. It should not happen under any circumstance in his life.
If he had awoken in Sweet Dreams for the first time in this carriage he was sure he would have been frantic and confused. He would have rattled his brain out, twisted, turned, topsy turvy, hula-hooped, head-banged, whatever other nonsense he could think of to figure out what was going on.
Then panic would begin to settle in as the realisation would dawn on him. A lonesome carriage with no one inside to ask, and no escape. At the very least, Till was pretty sure he was not desperate enough to fling himself out of a moving vehicle and run away into the freezing cold. If he knew where to go, then possibly, but he did not.
The man let the red silk covers fall back down with a sigh, hiding himself from the world once more.
Leaning back in his seat, Till tried his best to get comfortable. He could not blame his hypothetical self who had newly awoken in this crazy novel. After all, he had reacted not too differently a couple weeks ago.
Initially, when Till had first opened his eyes in Sweet Dreams, he was close to hysterical. Till had wildly tugged his hair and pinched his cheek in the mirror. It stung. Then his attention had turned to the jingles in his ears, or rather, from his ears. His eyes widened, bewildered.
There was glittering gold in his reflection. Reaching up with trembling hands, Till could feel the very real and extravagant accessories which decorated his earshells and lobes. Plural. He had piercings in both ears.
Now, Till had done many things in his life, including impulsively piercing his left ear as a teen to impress a senior at his highschool, but it was so painful he did not dare pierce the other. While it was embarrassing, he knew for certain there was no way he would willingly decorate his right lobe with real jewellery.
Yet - somehow - here he was. This was bizarre. He had awoken with no memory of where he was, in a room who-knows-where, and with strangers serving him. But most alarmingly, it seemed like he had been transported into some fantasy mediaeval time. Did Korea even exist here? Okay, scratch ‘bizarre’. This was terrifying!
“Okay, what the actual fuck is going on? Hello?!” Till had bursted out, panicked. Immediately, a young-looking gentleman dressed in a neat suit opened his door.
“Did you need something, young Lord?”
For some odd reason, the stranger neither questioned Till or whatever he was doing in front of the mirror as he had returned to gripping his own silver locks and pulling his reddened cheek. Instead he kept his head lowered in an obedient bow.
“...Wha-...? No, wait-. Who the hell are you?!”
“I am Freddie Guitart. I have been serving as your personal butler ever since you were 5 years old. Young Lord, was there anything you needed?”
A butler? His own personal butler? What the fuck? Till gawked at this ‘Freddie’ guy as if he was some alien with one eye and six strings. Upon further inspection, the butler had white hair with teal highlights swept into a low ponytail over his shoulders and matching teal eyes.
Wait, but what had he just said again? ‘Young Lord’? Him? And did he need anything? Uh, yeah. A myriad of things, actually. One included a way back home from wherever this flamboyant place was.
“No”, shit. Till wanted to die inside as he mentally smacked himself. That was not what he had wanted to say. This was not the time to short circuit!
Before he had the chance to backpedal, Freddie had swiftly excused himself with another bow and vanished, leaving Till in a deafening silence.
Okay, what the actual fuck was going on? Maybe he was on some weird prank show with hidden cameras? No, that was not likely. Till did not have that kind of network. Nevertheless, he quickly examined the regal bedroom - just in case - but to no avail.
A dream. A very weird lucid dream or whatever it was called, Till had thought. There was no other way, right? Maybe if he went back to sleep, he would wake up to the familiar ceiling of his apartment or something. Between wallowing in his own paranoia or sleeping, the winner was obvious.
For what it was worth, no one questioned Till or any of his actions regardless of how absurd they were. And apart from Freddie, none of the other servants seemed keen on interacting with him. In that regard, Till was fortunate.
Till did his best to get comfortable in the way too spacious king bed, and he closed his eyes with anticipation.
Unfortunately, his sleep tactic brought him nowhere. Not this time or the next.
It took Till a whole week to overcome his denial of being trapped, another week to adjust to the mansion and county, and a third to reluctantly accept he was truly stuck for the time being.
Having inhabited Sweet Dreams for almost a month, it was clear he had absolutely no clue what the hell he was supposed to do other than live the life he was thrust into. Quietly, of course.
To make matters worse, it had not taken long before Till realised who he had possessed. People were terrified of him and his environment was cruel beyond belief. Even if no one referred to him by name the hints were everywhere.
For example, who in their right mind would enjoy being served skewered through lamb?! It was not a normal skewer either. No, it was an entire spear. One normally equipped in battle. It was pierced straight through the whole animal, horizontally. The sharpened head pointed directly at Till, leaving him in a cold sweat. None of his supposed family members batted it an eye.
For what it was worth, the meat was Michelin star worthy. Back on Earth, the chef would definitely have received some kind of award of recognition. The visuals - on the other hand - was something straight out of a horror story. Oh, right. Till was trapped in one, and as one of the worst people to possess too.
Till had become a footnote of a character. He did not even have a proper name. With barely any lines worth of content, he simply existed to demonstrate the male lead’s brutality and closeness to Mizi. He was from Ivan’s flashback, and as the very person Till wished to throttle to death.
He was none other than the villainous lord who attempted to kidnap his favourite character Mizi. To say the least, Till was less than thrilled. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to shred apart his own skin from pure disgust, so that was a new experience.
Surely these emotions could turn into a powerful song so he had requested a pen and some paper after eventually calming down. Receiving high quality parchment, a quill and a small bottle of ink, he got to work. It helped relieve his feelings, but only a little.
Later, he had also discovered that there was no such thing as a guitar in this world. Sure, similar instruments existed, but not an actual guitar. Till could not stand such injustice. He needed to draw the line somewhere!
The only reason he managed to get his hands on an acoustic guitar was due to his prior music knowledge and the craftsman’s creativity and fear of what would happen if he dissatisfied the young lord. The entire process was as uncomfortable for Till as it was for the craftsman, but hey, at least he gained a guitar and the other received a generous amount of gold coins.
On the bright side, Till had managed to confirm where he was in the plot after a week. The kidnapping had yet to happen, but the journey upwards was already set in motion. Till had used every excuse in the book to prevent the visit, but Freddie did not budge as the young duke himself had scheduled his carriage to personally pick up Till. Something about having more robust horses and carriages for the challenging weather, or whatever.
Damn Freddie and his proficiency to handle this troublesome nobleman. Not just him. The entire staff were competent beyond human capacity. The whole mansion deserved better treatment. Especially considering the horrifying things this scumbag villain had put them through throughout all of his 21 years. Till was certain he had tormented them since his birth.
But this would change now. Till would make sure of it, even if the most he could do was to treat them right and give them a raise. At the same time, if he increased everyone's payment by a tenfold, his own pockets would hardly feel a dent so it did not quite feel like a good enough compensation. Till had no idea how currency worked in Anakt, but he certainly did not have a shortage of it. Damn rich kids in this universe. Where was this when he enrolled into university?
During his stay Till had slowly turned his new home from its grotesque aesthetic to something more befitting himself. Something more up his alley. Something simpler, artistic even. Though, of course, there was still a long way to go, and Freddie refused him anything besides the crème de la crème of anything he requested.
Still, this meant Till could live comfortably as long as he could avoid raising death flags. He just needed to stay out of trouble. To live quietly without causing a scene. To never enter politics. To never get entangled with the crown. And to run away when the war broke out. Easy, right? Yeah, totally. He got this in the bag. Piece of cake in this collapsing kingdom. A shiver ran down his spine. Surely, Till would be fine, right?
-
Two rapid knocks snapped him out of his reminiscing. Till blinked once, then twice as he emerged from his drowsy daze. Since when had he fallen half asleep? Wait, more importantly, since when had the carriage stopped moving? Had they already arrived at their destination?
“Young lord, are you alright?” Freddie inquired from the other side.
“‘M fine”, he muttered through the door, a little too fast for his liking.
Till dreaded this day, but there was no escape. He was neck deep in this already. He just needed to visit the dukedom for a week, stay out of the duke’s sight as much as possible, and voilà, he would be on his merry way back home in no time. Great plan, Till. He mentally patted himself on the back.
Taking his sweet time to exit, Till let out a groan as he slowly stood up from the soft cushions. He stretched, cleared his throat, dusted off nonexistent dust, draped the red winter cloak around himself, adjusted his forest green vest, and what else could he do to prolong his exit? Oh, how he wished the door was more than two measly steps away, but alas. The world was unfair and cruel. Especially this one, and especially to him in particular.
Till nervously gripped the handle before swinging it open with great force.
It was showtime.
“Welcome, Lord.” A tall man dressed in black winter wear politely smiled. Till wanted to frown at how indifferent he sounded.
Having half expected some old fart to greet him, it turned out that Ivan himself had personally come to see him much to Till’s despair. Were they not on bad terms? Till did his best to not nibble on his bottom lip, apprehensive of the conflicting behaviour. Whatever. He just needed to suck it up and get it over with.
Till sized him up and down without a word. The man looked young. Far too young to be in any position of power. If they were back at university Ivan would have been Till's junior. Most likely in another course though since Ivan did not strike him as an artsy kid. Business, perhaps? Or maybe some kind of literature course? He mentally shook his head. Focus, Till. This was north Anakt.
Objectively speaking, Ivan was handsome. Jet-black hair, fair skin, robust build, thick brows, and eyes darker than the abyss, but with pupils red and piercing. Till felt like they could dismantle anything Ivan laid his eyes upon. A small fang peeked out from the corner of his mouth, and a sheathed sword rested by his side.
The duke truly lived up to his role as the male lead and the youngest duke to ever exist in Anakt’s history, having barely turned 22 this winter. He was definitely a man who had grappled with hardships his entire life, Till noted. It was like Ivan was made for this which - to be fair - he was in the most literal sense.
However, Till’s brow furrowed at his welcome. It was uncomfortable enough to be addressed as ‘young Lord’ or the like on a daily basis, much more so by the very man who was supposed to kill him within the week. It only rubbed the situation in his face.
Due to the lack of a reply, Ivan politely continued in the same, flat tone.
“You must be tired from the long journey, Lord-.”
“Till”, Till abruptly cut him off. He could no longer tolerate it as he stepped down from the carriage. It has been two seconds, but it was two too many.
Seemingly taken aback by the impoliteness, the duke raised a thick brow in a lukewarm fashion.
“Pardon?”
“Call me Till”, he repeated, curtly, brushing past the younger man. He was annoyed. Annoyed at the titles and annoyed at his situation.
Oh, wait. Till briefly halted in his steps. His situation. His current situation. Shit.
Was that too harsh? Was his head going to roll? Till wanted to shake himself in horror at his own actions. What the hell was he saying? What the hell was he doing?!
Sure, he wanted to seem confident to mask how close he was to foam at the mouth, but surely this was way too much! Knowing Ivan’s character, there was no way he would tolerate this. Especially not from an infamous bastard like him.
Sweating bullets, Till peeked over his shoulder as he waited for the ruler of the dukedom to condemn him or something.
Instead of immediately replying, a mysterious flicker seemed to flash through Ivan’s mind, and Till wanted to scream. The duke seemed caught off guard, but only for a second. There was an odd shift in his demeanour. Fuck. Till was screwed. He was so screwed a million times over. He needed to fix this and fast.
“Uh-, Your Grace, what I meant to say was-.”
“Alright, Lord Till.” Ivan replied. “Then please call me Ivan.” His tone had become surprisingly chipper this time.
Till swallowed, nervously. “...Excuse me?”
“From now on, I’ll refer to you as ‘Lord Till’ as you requested. In return, please comfortably refer to me as Ivan. Or have I mistaken something, Lord Till?” Ivan smiled, putting stress on his last two words.
Till stared at the other, sceptically. This would have to make do, even if he wanted to drop the titles entirely. He brought his hand up to his collar to slightly adjust it. Okay, his head was still attached to his neck. Good. Great, even.
“Have it your way, Duke Ivan.”
Damnit, Ivan looked so pleased with himself. As if he had just found something he had lost for a decade. Was Till being made fun of? Till wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face. Respect your elders! Ignoring how his current body was 21, he was still an experienced 25 years old in mind and spirit, damnit!
Still, Ivan was quick to adjust. Far too quickly for someone who was supposed to hate Till’s guts. Till needed to be careful around this observant twerp. But at least he could understand why adaptability was needed for people in the north, especially when the rest of Anakt was hostile towards them.
“Oh, by the way, Lord Till”, Ivan chimed in, far too friendly for Till’s taste. The duke sure changed his tune fast. Did he hit his head while Till was not looking? The competent duke now resembled a manchild, somehow.
“Yea-… Erm. Yes, Duke Ivan?” Right, formal speech and all that high society crap Till reminded himself of as he began to idly wander wherever his feet decided to take him.
Apparently, it was towards an open area arguably larger than his university campus. It resembled a winter wonderland with neatly trimmed hedges, marvellous ice sculptors and snow covered trees and plants.
“Our main entry is over there.”
Till stopped dead in his tracks. His head swirled faster than intended, and he immediately cringed from the recoil. Fortunately, he had barely managed to take a few steps away before being notified. His cheeks heated up from the biting cold. It was absolutely not for any other reason.
Ivan was pointing towards two extremely noticeable wooden doors so massive Till needed to bend backwards just to view the entire thing. They were resilient and thick with engraved flowers on them. The perfect defence against unyielding blizzards.
Ivan - however - did not see a reason to shut his trap. Till could tell the other was clearly humoured.
“If you’re that eager to view the garden, then why don’t you take a stroll while the servants unload your luggage? I thought you would be fatigued from your long journey, but it seems you’re in high spirits, Lord Till. Though not many flowers bloom in the north due to our rather unforgiving climate there are plenty of other beauties worth seeing. Why not revisit again during Summer?”
Oh, Till was this close to curse out the duke to his face, but he held his tongue out of pure fear of consequence. Props to whoever said ‘this, too, will pass’ because Till would so much rather keep his life than take out his temporary frustration on this overgrown brat. He was definitely having fun judging from that frolicsome glint in those black holes for eyes. It almost resembled twinkling stars.
“I knew that”, Till grumbled under his breath, ignoring the other’s proposition. His cheeks still felt incredibly hot and he pulled his warm cloak closer to himself, turning to face the duke with a scowl. He was supposed to behave - to keep out of trouble -, but this guy sure was making it difficult.
“Of course, Lord Till.” To Till’s relief, the duke seemed to leave it at that. Instead he said, “Lord Till, since it’s been a while since your last visit, let me personally escort you to your room. If you could kindly follow me.”
What? Was it normal for Ivan to personally show guests around the castle? Till silently grimaced at the thought as the duke gestured with his hand. Immediately, servants appeared from nowhere and began unloading the carriage. Judging by their puzzled gazes maybe it was not the case after all. Maybe the young duke wanted to keep a close eye on him or something. Not that Till could blame him for being cautious.
The servants’ teamwork was impressive - the way they cooperated like cogs and gears in a larger machine -, but Till did not have time to leisurely observe them. Sure, he had performed similar gestures in the mansion, but the atmosphere here was completely different.
Till knew exactly why, and it made him grit his teeth. There was no way he could simply overwrite 21 years worth of reputation within a single month. The servants here respected Ivan. They were loyal. Not out of terror, but out of devotion.
“Shall we head inside, Lord Till?” The duke proposed only to receive an unintentional click of a tongue. Till tore his eyes away from the servants and turned his attention back to Ivan.
“Yeah. Please lead the way, Duke Ivan. Freddie, help the other servants bring everything to my room.”
The butler bowed with a ‘yes, young Lord’ before setting his own people into motion. He resembled a maestro, Till thought, as he gave them one last look before he trailed after Ivan.
The walk through the castle was completely silent. Their steps echoed as they made their way deeper into the building. Although it was unnerving, it gave Till time to observe his surroundings.
While Till was no architect, it took no genius to understand the sheer amount of craftsmanship it required to create such a monumental place. Not to mention the time, the materials, and the money. Who the hell needed this big of a living space? People were starving out there!
There were extraordinary carvings on the sturdy marble pillars, gorgeous decorations around every corner, and paintings that should be displayed in national museums on the walls. It took Till a great deal of effort to not catch flies with his mouth, half in awe and half spent from seeing all the splendours.
However, between the north and the south, Ivan’s home was far emptier than Till’s. In terms of riches, Ivan won by a landslide, but not in terms of population. While people were still actively living here, it was nowhere near as buzzy.
Of course, Till knew the reason for the emptiness as well. Besides staff members, Ivan was the only member of his family who lived in the castle. Or rather, Ivan was the only family member alive to live here.
According to Black Sorrow, Ivan’s extended family lived elsewhere in the dukedom or outside of it. His mother died when he was 8 and his father passed away 3 years ago. Or maybe it was the other way around. Till was fuzzy on the details. Either-or.
Still, to lose someone so early in life must be difficult for anyone. Truth be told, Till felt sorry for Ivan, and he would comfort him if he could. Mizi too. Not just to satisfy his own selfish desires, but also because it would be beneficial for him to befriend them.
Trustworthy allies and comrades were essential in these trying times considering the upcoming civil war. If Till’s memory was right then the rebellion must have grown notably in size by now.
Having investigated the situation as quietly as possible, the resistance seemed to still be led by the former knight of the royal guards and noblewoman Hyuna and her two accomplices Dewey and Isaac. Negotiation with Ivan and the north was still in a couple months, but the numbers they had rallied together was nothing to sneeze at.
Though Till had no plans to get involved with either side, he could not blame the nation for their uproars. It was to be expected, honestly. People cried out in anguish every day, yet the king pushed them aside in favour of his own comfort.
However, what was meant to bring around a revolution only spiralled into a senseless massacre from both sides. The authors were truly menaces to this world. Sweet Dreams was a tragedy through and through, Till reaffirmed.
But even so - despite all the monstrosities - Till’s own survival came first. Sure, gaining allies among the main cast would be splendid, but not to the point of putting himself at risk. Maybe he could try some other time when he was sure his head would not soar like a shuttlecock. He needed to look out for himself first if he wanted to go home in one piece.
Besides, the only important character to Till - other than himself - was Mizi, and she had plot armour. Well, for the most part. Her mental state was trampled and torn apart, but physically she was still alive. At least from what he saw in the most recent update. Till was sure she could prevail, somehow. She was the protagonist after all. It would not be much of a story without her.
“Are you alright, Lord Till?” A voice cut through his swarming thoughts as Till barely managed to stop himself from getting a mouth full of the duke’s fluffy cape. Spitting hairballs until dinner did not sound delightful in the least.
“Uh, yeah”, Till said dumbly. Realising his wording, he immediately cleared his throat. “I am fine, Duke Ivan.”
Ivan examined the silver hair from head to toe before simply smiling without a word. Then he continued to guide him to wherever Till was supposed to be staying at. Wow, if Till had a rating app for tourism then he would give the raven hair zero stars. Terrible client service.
Throughout the rest of the walk, Till did his best to distract himself from the duke. Each and every time he got a little too comfortable in his own thoughts, he could feel eyes on him and he would veer his head around. Nothing and no one besides the two of them. Weird. Was it just his imagination or was someone peeking at him every so often? Was he going insane?
“We have arrived, Lord Till.”
“Thank you, Duke Ivan”, Till bowed.
The silver haired could not be happier. His cheeks hurt from the wide and giddy grin forming upon his lips. At long last, his temporary shelter was here. This castle was a battlefield, and this would be his safety zone.
“It’s not much, but I hope it suits your taste.” Ivan hummed before opening the door.
Till’s smile immediately wilted. An inexplicable mix of shock and defeat hit Till like a tsunami, draining all colour from his face. This had to be some sort of twisted joke. The room was overbearingly luxurious beyond comprehension! Till had thought he had gotten adjusted to the pampered lifestyle by now, but clearly not. This was potentially even more magnificent than his own room at the mansion. How in the world was this a guest room?! There was no way he could comfortably stay here for a week.
The walls were elegantly decorated with bookshelves and shining paintings. There was a large desk with a variety of papers, parchments, scrolls, quills, and ink houses neatly arranged along with a chair with emerald coloured cushions. In the ceiling dangled a sparkling chandelier worth more than a F1 race car. But it did not stop there.
There were glass doors connected to a balcony with a view over the icy garden. The entire bed was large enough to fill Till’s old apartment room from wall to wall, yet it was nowhere near intruding within the even grander bedroom. Over the head of the bed hung the iconic insignia of a Siberian tiger with red eyes and swords as fangs. The very same symbol plastered on the side of the carriage Till had arrived in. Without a doubt, that was the duke’s family crest.
“...Duke Ivan. With all due respect, did you perhaps guide me to the wrong room?” Till asked with caution.
“No?” Ivan seemed intrigued by his question, tilting his head to the side.
“Are all rooms like this?” TIll dreaded the potential answer.
“Of course not, Lord Till. This room is for you.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. Although it was prepared in a hurry, there should not be anything lacking so please make yourself comfortable.”
Till wanted to scoff. What nonsense was Ivan spouting now? First of all, the issue was not whether or not something was lacking. The issue was that it was overwhelmingly too much. Secondly, what kind of mental gymnastics would make sense for this room to be rushed for preparation while the carriage took 6 days to travel to the south and back? The journey would probably have taken longer had it not been for magic gates which cut the travelling distance shorter.
Stupefied, Till remained speechless which only made the other muffle a chuckle. However, because there was no one else besides them, it was effortlessly audible. Color returned to him in the shade of bright red. Attempting to utter a single word, he only opened and closed his mouth like a fish on land.
“Now then, Lord Till. Please make yourself at home”, Ivan patted the shorter’s shoulder with an all knowing grin. It brought Till no comfort whatsoever.
The duke continued. “Dinner will be served at 6. I would be honoured if we could share a meal together and catch up so please make sure to rest up by then. If you need anything, call a servant. I shall be in my study.” And with that, Ivan turned on his heel and left.
All Till could do was watch him disappear around a corner. Huh, so his office was elsewhere. Wait, why was Ivan going to his study and not his room to rest? Dang, even with guests present dukes sure were busybees. Good thing this bastard villain Till possessed was not the heir or else he would be swarmed with unwanted work. Till shook his head. This was not the time for that.
Pondering upon the topic no further, Till closed the door behind him with a sigh and made a beeline for the bed. Throwing himself onto it, he grabbed the closest pillow and shoved his face into the soft fabric. Then he promptly screamed.
-
Miraculously, by the time dinnertime came around, Till had managed to somewhat calm himself. While he had not recharged through napping, drawing was practically the same, right?
As he had lost track of time, Freddie had kindly reminded him of his schedule. Then the butler proceeded to help him get dressed in a white shirt, black dress pants, and crimson vest with golden details in record time.There was a crimson tie loosely around his neck accompanied by a bronch resembling a flower made of emeralds and gold, and in his ears were matching earrings to the bronch. The style was simple enough for Till’s taste and refined enough for Freddie’s.
Perhaps leaning more towards the fancy side, but that should be expected since he was now being guided to the dining hall by one of the duke’s servants. Till was grateful for the assistance. He was sure he would have gotten lost by himself.
Now that he thought about it, what had Ivan meant by ‘catch up’ anyways? Catch up on what? There was nothing for them to catch up on. Most of his knowledge on Ivan came from the novel and was deeply personal. There was no way he could imply he knew such intimate details. Has this scumbag villain been here before or something?
Till glanced at the back of the servant’s brown bob cut as if that would nudge his memory. Of course it did nothing. He let out a quiet sigh. It was worth a shot.
Eventually they reached the dining hall and it took everything in Till to not turn tail then and there. What in the world was with this seating arrangement? Ivan was already seated at the head of the table, but for whatever reason, the only other seat present was directly to the duke’s left.
This was like sitting next to some overly familiar CEO he has just met. A very handsome and extremely influential CEO at that. Was Till not supposed to be seated across from him? Even if the distance would make conversation awkward, sitting right next to him was far worse.
“Good evening, Lord Till”, Ivan casually greeted him.
The brown haired servant guided Till to his seat and he hesitantly sat down. The red leather should have felt comforting, but all he felt was tense.
“Uh, good evening”, Till nodded in return, stiffly. What in the world was with this sudden pressure he was experiencing? How was he supposed to eat like this?
“How was your rest?” The duke continued as servants began to pour their glasses with fine wine.
“It was fine. Though, I plan to return to my room soon due to exhaustion.”
Ivan seemed to muse on his words, making Till fiddle with his hands beneath the table. Surely he had not said something weird, right? Did the duke not want him to rest or something? Or had he - somehow - managed to pick up that Till was purposely avoiding him?
“I see. Then we should quickly finish our meal.” Ivan stated. Signalling with his hand, the brown haired servant bowed. Not sooner did more servants pool through the doors with trays in hand. Each and every dish looked more aromatic and mouth watering than the other. The buffet seemed never ending, and it would not cost Till a single won to taste everything!
From the sight alone, Till had never felt hungrier. The sound of cutlery filled the otherwise silent room as they began to dig in. The meat was tender, soft and juicy, melting in his mouth. The vegetables were rich, but not overwhelming, and the sauces complimented each and every flavour the course had to offer. Wow, this was incredibly delish and so incredibly uncomfortable.
“So delicious”, Till commented to himself. He was eating with such vigour one would think this was his last meal. This was completely different from eating cheap takeout and instant ramen. There was no abysmally arranged animal visually terrorising him either. Though, Ivan was arguably a close replacement.
“I’m glad to hear”, Ivan chuckled. “Speaking of, I have a gift for you to celebrate our reunion.”
Till briefly paused at the word ‘reunion’. He lowered his fork with a cautious look. So this scumbag villain had been to the north after all? And they were not on bad terms? But he had never read or heard them interact before. So which one was it? Was he safe or not?! He could not let the young duke know he had no clue what was going on.
“No need, Duke Ivan.” He politely refused. Whatever it was, Till had no use for it. Neither did he want to be in Ivan's debt.
“Nonsense”, the duke dismissed him. “I insist.”
The silver hair peered at him. For a scheming man like Ivan, nothing good would come out of this. If it was valuable then it could potentially rope Till into the plot, but the same could be said if he refused. Shit. Ivan was definitely up to something. Till narrowed his eyes, warily. He should not have lowered his guard so easily just because of the five star meal.
Carefully weighing his options, both could raise death flags if he was not careful. He had tested the raven hair’s patience enough for a lifetime, even if it was not intentional..
“... Thank you, Duke Ivan,” Till replied, reluctantly.
“Don’t worry, Lord Till. I am sure you will enjoy this.”
“...I am grateful for your kindness.” Till was not convinced whatsoever.
Ivan gave another sign, and Till was immediately proven right when his so-called present arrived. His stomach dropped and all appetite left him. ‘What the fuck’ could even begin to summarize what he was feeling.
Till’s fork had paused mid-journey as he eyeballed the roasted pig in a cold sweat. It was laid upon a bed of greens and had a bright red apple between its teeth. A dagger was presented to Ivan on another silver platter.
“...What is the meaning of this?” Till tried not to shake like a leaf.
“I heard you had a fascinating interest, Lord Till. I was highly curious about this activity of yours so I wanted to partake.” Picking up the silver dagger, Ivan gave his guest a toothy grin before viciously stabbing it through the animal’s skull. The cranium made a horrendous cracking sound as the weapon was lodged in place, vertically. Till wanted to hurl or at least look away, but he was petrified. Even the castle staff seemed startled by their ruler’s sudden action.
On the other hand, Ivan seemed thrilled. Giving a bright smile, he looked to Till as if expecting praise.
“I think I am starting to understand your fascination.”
Insanity. This was pure, unadulterated madness. There was no way Ivan was sound in mind. Till was certain of that now. Was this a warning? Till cussed at himself in his head. How could he think they were on good terms when the duke did things like this? What if he was next?!
Scrambling together the remainder of his sanity, Till did his best to appear calm and collected. He needed to discourage this, and fast. The silver hair turned his attention back to his forgotten fork, but the meat had become far less enticing. Regardless, he continued to eat, trying to stay as composed and uninterested as possible.
Silence. Till could feel a pair of eager eyes on him for what felt like centuries. In reality, it was probably closer to a minute at best, but that was irrelevant. It was suffocating nonetheless.
Finally placing down his cutlery, Till turned to Ivan with a disapproving scowl. He needed to look convincing while saying this. He needed to pretend he was not on the verge of passing out in his seat.
“Do you really? Duke Ivan, personally, I don’t think you do understand. Besides, I’ve found these things quite boring as of late.”
“Is that so?” Ivan tilted his head, puzzled. Somehow, the young duke did not seem offended. Rather, he seemed confused and intrigued. He reminded Till of a dog. A very large and dangerous dog who did not seem to understand right from wrong, but a dog all the same.
“Yes. So please refrain from making these jokes in the future. I’ll lose my appetite”, Till concluded firmly. Truth be told, he had already lost it.
Although the silver hair was not sure if this was enough, Ivan seemed to let himself be fooled.
“I see. Then I apologise for my poor jest. I will find something else as compensation. What intrigues Lord Till these days?”
Till thought for a moment. He should be honest. Lying now would only be a disservice. What if Ivan presented him with another heinous offering? If he had no choice but accept then it should at least be something he could partly enjoy.
“I’ve found composing rather fulfilling as of late”, he admitted, calmly.
“If roasted pig is no good then how about I give you an opera house?”
Till crossed his arms as he leaned back in his seat and briefly closed his eyes. Oh, how he wished he could simply sink through the floor. The duke wanted to bestow him with an entire opera house? Till thought absolutely fucking not. Shit, this dinner was giving him a migraine. Screw this entire fiasco of a visit. Till wanted to go home.