TEN

    "You brute! I'm sure you did something wrong to the kid," Yver accused, giving his friend's collar a sharp tug. Had it been anyone else, that hand would now be severed.

    "Why do you think I did something wrong, hmm?" Keith countered, his voice a low growl. He was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, feigning indifference while a map of the kingdom lay ignored on his desk. Yver was sprawled lazily on the large divan that backed the map of Elarion.

    "Because you did. I know you, he's been sluggishly trailing behind us for some time now, with such a mopey look on his face. You should feel guilty," Yver accused, "he is not of any importance to me that I'd even want to feel guilty about doing 'anything' to him," Keith only spared him a single glance before looking back down at what was actually important to him.

    Yver sat up now, his expression one of serious investment in this new drama. "Can I have him, then?"

    Keith’s head snapped up, a single red brow arching. "What?"

    "Mars. He's so cute. The way he speaks is so funny but intriguing, and I want to have him. You haven't even slept with him yet, that means you're really not interested in him, right? I am. Trust me, within a day of having me with him, I'll disvir- eek!"

    Keith’s sword, Ember, was in his hand in a flash of steel. He didn't swing at Yver, but slashed the air between them. It sent air slashes of fire that cut through the divan smoldering the fabric it came in contact with.

    Yver avoided being bisected by a hair's breadth. Literally, as a few severed blond locks drifted slowly to the carpet.

    "There's your answer," Keith said, his voice dangerously calm as he sheathed his sword. He turned his back, a clear dismissal meanwhile the Marquis was hiding a mischievous grin, "I've done my part now. Good luck," he said and then wisely chose to leave his friend to his thoughts.

    ♡♡♡

    "There are reports of a ghoul infestation in Kariv, but it's… strange. More organized. People are disappearing, not just being attacked."

    Mars, once again office sitting, paid attention to the guard's report.

His mind, a living P*F of the book, instantly pulled up Chapter 6.

    This was it.

    The appearance of another pivotal supporting character like Yver.

    In the original story, this person and Keith were not on good terms and would only come to understand each other after a series of very avoidable events if they could just talk.

    "And talk they will... i have to stop the first avoidable event- Charlotte trying to kill this person," he mumbled to himself.

    After the report was done and it was just the two of them again, Mars got up and slammed his hands on the hard desk. It stung but he was trying to make an impression.

    "Give me money," Mars demanded, holding out his hand.

    Keith looked up, his brows pushing together in a formidable line. He had thought this boy couldn't get more strange, but he really found ways to do even more.

    "For what?"

    "For... things. I don't have any money, so give me some," Mars said with faux confidence.

    "Go away," Keith dismissed him, but Mars stood his ground, his legs hidden behind the large table trembling, but his resolve was steel. If he wanted to get home, he had to change the ending.

    And that started by helping Keith gain more allies instead of enemies. Only Yver wasn't enough to stop other people from trying to kill him.

    Charlotte was a good manipulator, but he knew all her tricks and would try to out-manipulate her. But he still needed financial aid, what better way to gather some than to ask for guardian fees from his client.

    Keith finally stood up, annoyed from the prolonged pestering. He stepped around the table with the fluid grace of a predator, trapping Mars between the hard wood and the solid wall of his own body. The space was so tight Mars was almost sitting on the desk.

    "Wh-what are you doing?" Mars cleared his throat, fighting to stay level-headed.

    "Stop talking," Keith commanded.

    "Wha-?"

    "Stop talking," Keith repeated, Mars nodded then turned around confusing the prince. He watched the boy grab a scrap paper and then scribble something on it before handing it to him.

    "Sure, so will you give me money now?" The note read, he held up his hands, palms together in a plea.

    Keith leaned in closer, his green eyes boring into Mars’s. "Alright, why do you need it?"

    Mars fumbled over his words, "uh... because you make me sit here doing nothing, that's gotta be some sort of job right?" His hands were outstretched again, glistening eyes begging too.

    And once again, against all his instincts, Keith found himself disarmed. He released Mars and moved to a drawer, pulling out a small, heavy pouch of gold coins and tossing it to him. Mars fumbled but caught it.

    "Oh wow! Is this a lot? It looks like a lot!" he awed, hefting the pouch.

    "Thanks! I'll spend it all and come back for more!" the spoilt young adult chirped, skipping out of the office without a backward glance.

    Keith sighed, the sound echoing in the sudden silence, and stared down at the undeniable evidence of his frustration straining against his trousers. He was merely interested, he told himself. He had never seen anyone so defiant. How old was he? Where did he truly come from? He didn't act like someone who was poor; he acted with the innate confidence of someone born to privilege.

    His eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed on the door Mars had vanished through. As much as he was… intrigued, he had to be cautious. He had to be suspicious. This strange boy was a puzzle, and Keith was determined to take him apart, piece by tantalizing piece.