I'M BACK

Tang Feiliu raised his hand to signal he was coming out. Facing Alan's wary scrutiny, he felt awkward. He gestured for Alan to look at the spot where he'd crawled out, then sheepishly whispered an explanation: "I arrived before you did. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your argument."

"...Rogers just... just speaks his mind." Alan murmured. Tang Feiliu looked at him, his thoughts drifting to the departed Pearl, and suddenly smiled. "...No need to explain. Honestly, I think Mr. Pearl is utterly adorable. That's why I couldn't help but... you know... get caught by you."

Tang Feiliu chuckled, only to notice Mr. Allen across from him flash a guarded, possessive expression. Only then did Tang realize how suggestive his words had been—and clearly, it wasn't just him sensing that intense kinship with Allen. Allen had obviously picked up on his own unease too.

Under these circumstances, any pretense between them was pointless. Tang Feiliu could only say softly, "Alright, alright. While I... you know, share your feelings... I just find him adorable. It doesn't mean I have any appetite for his type."

Alan appraised Tang Feiliu's sixteen-year-old frame. Evidently, Tang Feiliu's appearance—even more delicate and feminine than Pearl's—instantly eased Alan's concerns. Perhaps having endured too long alone, he now relaxed, revealing a hint of weariness.

He murmured, "...Please keep this confidential for me, okay?"

"Of course. I mean, absolutely." Tang Feiliu looked at the handsome, upright man before him and finally understood the source of that familiar, restrained aura—one so similar to Edward's. It was a unique sense of suppression born from hardship. If Edward's stemmed from his family background, Alan's clearly came from his love.

Tang Feiliu's overly compassionate nature surged, and he couldn't help but want to comfort this man. He whispered, "Actually, you don't have to feel this way... about leaving home and all that. You know, it's not really a problem. You're just... different from others."

"...But I only see him as a younger brother! You can't imagine—one day I saw him in my dream, and I felt possessed by a demon." Alan ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, murmuring, "It's terrifying. I can't hurt the people I love, but damn it, I can't escape this place..."

As he spoke, Alan yanked at his own hair—punishing himself!

Tang Feiliu instantly grasped the situation. He seized Alan's hand, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "Mr. Alan, you can't do this. This isn't shameful or terrifying. You can't treat yourself like this. You haven't done anything wrong!"

"No, it is my fault. If only my mind hadn't been so weak, the devil wouldn't have corrupted me..." Alan said tensely. Tang Feiliu suddenly roared, "Mr. Alan!"

He leaned in close, face to face with Alan, his expression stern. "Look at me, Alan! Do you think I'm a demon?!"

"...What?" Alan stared at him in shock, blurting out, "Of course not!"

"Then am I disgusting?!" Tang Feiliu pressed.

"No!" Alan answered again.

"Do I stand here making you feel I should be ashamed?!"

"Should I do something to punish myself right now?!"

……

Alan's expression gradually relaxed. He murmured softly, "No... no, no. You are an exceptional person. I heard from Jess that you even want to work for the poor. You deserve the sincere respect of any gentleman."

"Then," Tang Feiliu looked at Alan and said softly, "so are you. I respect you for your great character. Whoever you choose to love is your private matter."

It was a difficult conversation.

Only then did Tang Feiliu realize why the charming and elegant Mr. Allen lived like a puritan. He had been punishing himself all along. Tang Feiliu empathized deeply, feeling both pain and sorrow.

He thought of himself. On this continent steeped in prejudice, he faced two choices: endure a lifetime of silence like Mr. Allen, or live in constant fear, never finding peace.

Tang Feiliu felt fear, but he wasn't one to fight against the prevailing winds. Still, he thought, at least now he had a friend—someone he could speak his mind to, someone he didn't have to hide his true nature from. And he was fortunate, at least, not to be consumed by such intense longing for someone close, forcing him to endure daily trials that felt like heavenly fire scorching his heart.

"...So, I heard you're helping the people on your land?" These topics couldn't be delved into too deeply, for the more they spoke, the more despair it brought. After a while, they tacitly shifted to a lighter subject.

"Yeah, nothing much. Just making their winters a little easier." Alan adjusted his expression and hair as he answered.

"What exactly did you do?" Tang Feiliu, however, had perked up at the mention. He admitted with a touch of embarrassment, "...You know, down below the castle, there are some people... I wanted to do something, just like you."

"...I just let them use my baking oven and workshop for free," Alan said, clearly enjoying discussing this topic with Tang Feiliu. "... That place was meant for them anyway. Normally I charge them wheat as payment, but in winter I let them use it freely. Otherwise, to save food, many of them wouldn't get warm baked bread all winter long. The only price I ask is that they keep the place tidy and well-maintained for me. Plus, I extend grain credit to some villagers interest-free—they repay me the following year... These arrangements apply to ordinary folk. For the elderly and children... You know I have an old winery. After investing in shipping, it became idle space. During York's coldest month, I provide coal there so those unable to survive the winter can seek shelter."

The earliest prototype of a relief center—it didn't cost much, and unlike the excessive welfare systems of later Europe that discouraged work, it avoided such pitfalls. The balance was well-judged. Tang Feiliu was deeply moved, yet he sighed dejectedly: "But the people below the castle don't have an abandoned winery."

"...My lands are fairly populated," Alan murmured. "You should see it for yourself. Truthfully, most places don't have that many people."

Tang Feiliu pondered this, then nodded thoughtfully.

He recalled a gathering where a minor local squire spoke, and even those owning several hills dared not interrupt. They were merely slightly wealthier than ordinary wealthy farmers. In this era, land was precious, yet settlements were sparse—villages might be scattered dozens of kilometers apart. Naturally, the area around Black Swan Castle was more prosperous, with settlements appearing more frequently. It was said that in the barren lands, it was common for a small estate owner to possess hundreds or even thousands of hectares of land—so vast that circling it by carriage would take days or nights.

It was precisely Alan's reminder that solidified Tang Feiliu's resolve to see the place for himself.

On the day of departure, Tang Feiliu set out with Jace and Jace's friend. As their carriage moved slowly along the road, they met up with Alan—who had volunteered to assist Tang Feiliu, having grown weary of the endless banquets himself.

"I need to do something truly meaningful," Alan told Tang Feiliu.

Tang Feiliu was more than happy to oblige. He greeted Alan warmly, and their carriages raced onward. The snow-covered terrain made travel difficult. Though the village seemed close at first glance, once they dismounted and walked into the settlement, Tang Feiliu felt an oppressive atmosphere.

The dwellings were low and squat, mostly mud-brick structures. Every house stood tightly shut, offering no clue whether anyone lived inside.

"...This place is a mixed settlement," Jace said, yawning. "See those sturdier houses with windows? Those belong to the duke's people—they farm his land. The rest are freemen, who also farm the duke's land and pay taxes."

Jace clearly found Tang Feiliu's persistence puzzling, yet he patiently explained everything to him.

Tang Feiliu and Allen slowly made their way inside, entering the normal, lowest-tier living quarters of this time and space. Thus, that winter, Tang Feiliu fulfilled his wish to aid others—he provided communal shelters and fires, hired idle freemen to clear snow and maintain nearby thoroughfares, and took over the village's communal bakery kitchen, employing two women as caretakers to offer bread freely to the villagers.

Word of this kindness soon spread. As Tang Feiliu and Allen trudged through the snow helping others, they not only earned people's gratitude but also forged a deep friendship between themselves.

To many, Tang Feiliu's actions might seem meaningless—he couldn't possibly help everyone, offering only limited aid where he could see it needed. Yet for Tang Feiliu, it was enough. He was an ordinary man—perhaps tender-hearted but incapable of saving the world. Yet now, whenever he walked through the area, those who had received his kindness would instinctively tip their hats in respect. Before, children would hide whenever he entered the village.

Now, when he passed by, he could hear the children's greetings from afar.

That was enough to offer an ordinary man some measure of comfort.

As Tang Feiliu and Alan forged a deep friendship, visiting each other nearly every few days to exchange insights from overseas with Tang Feiliu's knowledge, Edward, far away in the palace, could endure it no longer. One night, he dreamt of his golden-haired little angel blinking blue eyes at him. His entire body seemed to glow with a golden radiance, tears glistening in his eyes. His skin had a delicate pink flush, and his cherry-like lips gasped, murmuring a tearful complaint: "...You hurt me, Edward."

Edward's eyes snapped open, realizing he had come again.

Edward pressed the service bell. Ivans entered swiftly, murmuring, "Your Excellency, what are your orders?"

"...How has Black Swan Castle been lately?" Edward cut her off, murmuring, "I want to know any new developments."

Winter was always the season for social balls. When even ships couldn't dock, what could be new? Aside from which lady had an affair or which young mistress was sneaking around with a servant... what else could there be?

Ivans pondered earnestly before murmuring, "...If we must speak of novelty, it concerns young Lance. Word has it he's been using his own wages to aid the people of the domain through winter... Apparently inspired by Mr. Alan Nates, Lance and he have become close friends. Everyone says this is the first time Lance has ever held such admiration for another... Your Excellency?"

Before Evans could finish, Edward's expression startled him into silence.

"Alan? That young gentleman who returned from his voyage?" Edward pondered for a long moment before recalling the minor squire who had come to pay his respects when Edward took over Swan Castle. He remembered this minor figure precisely because the lad possessed not only sharp wit and good manners but also a face impossible to forget.

A respectable, upright, and handsome gentleman who, in his absence from York, had now captured the complete admiration of young Lance.

Edward drew a deep breath.

"Out," Edward paused, then said in a low voice to Ivans, "Pack my belongings. We depart for York tomorrow."

As he spoke, Edward rose. Evans caught sight of the damp trousers and couldn't help but gasp. Though the Duke had never married, he had never behaved like this before... Evans couldn't even recall how many pairs of trousers this was.

"But it's snowing heavily outside..." Though startled, Evans remained professional. His quiet protest drew Edward's anger: "If it's snowing hard, take more men! Do I need to teach you that?!"

"Yes, Your Grace," Ivanis replied, startled and no longer daring to hesitate. He bowed and hurried out.

Then one day, as Tang Feiliu was contemplating peeking at the fabric he'd covered himself with in the warmth of his room, he suddenly heard his door open. and Ivan gave him a look he couldn't decipher. Before Tang Feiliu could process it, the Duke—whom he hadn't seen in over two months—appeared before him. Snowflakes still clung to his coat, and he radiated the fierce aura of a warrior, standing before him with imposing, formidable presence.

"D-D-D-D-Duke..." The presence of the head of the Political and Religious Affairs Office sent Tang Feiliu into a panic once more, caught in that familiar cycle of "I haven't done anything wrong, but I feel so guilty." Instinctively, he snapped to attention.