The soft glow of candlelight flickered around the study, casting delicate shadows over the stacks of scrolls and manuscripts surrounding Seokjin as he sat, engrossed in his work. His brush moved steadily across the paper, each stroke precise, filling the air with the light scratch of ink on paper. The room was quiet, wrapped in the tranquility of the late hour, and the subtle rustling of paper lent an air of solemnity to Seokjin's focus.

Min-ah entered quietly after obtaining Seokjin's approval. She closed the door behind her with gentle hands, her steps measured, respectful, almost as if hesitant to disturb his solitude. She stopped a few paces from him and offered a deep bow.

Seokjin looked up from his work, his brows lifting slightly as he took in Min-ah's damp attire. A faint glint of amusement softened his gaze. "Did he prove challenging to handle?" he asked, his tone gentle yet edged with a knowing smile.

"My Lord," Min-ah began, lowering her gaze respectfully, her tone calm yet tinged with a subtle frustration. "He is unlike any other I have tended to before. I can scarcely believe he—" She bit back further complaints, knowing Seokjin would not indulge her grievances. With a faint sigh, she continued, "Nonetheless, I have attended to the guest's needs in the bath and ensured he is properly groomed. His hair was rather unruly, so I took the liberty of trimming it," she added, her voice steady, though a slight hesitation betrayed her unease.

Seokjin allowed a subtle smile as he acknowledged her words. "I am grateful," he replied, his tone as soft as silk, though laced with a gentle reprimand. "However, do remember—he remains a guest under this roof and is to be treated with patience and respect."

He felt the need to remind her, recalling the commotion that had reached his ears earlier, when Min-ah had barred Taehyung from entering the study after his bath. The firmness in her tone then had seemed out of place, especially for a guest.

The subtle scolding stung. Min-ah's gaze lowered, and she dipped her head in obedient silence, though a faint flicker of resentment shadowed her eyes. "My Lord," she murmured, choosing her words with care, "I serve only you. This... Wolfian—surely his presence is not to be a lasting one? If word of a Wolfian dwelling here reaches others, it may reflect poorly upon us."

Seokjin set his brush aside, his gaze meeting hers, calm yet unwavering, his expression imbued with quiet authority. "The conduct of this household follows my wishes, Min-ah. Let that be your only concern."

Anxious tension flickered in her gaze as she cast her eyes downward, her fingers curling ever so slightly, grasping at the damp folds of her robe. The arrival of the Wolfian, five months prior, had shifted the delicate balance she once held in Seokjin's life. For more than a millennium, she had been his closest attendant, the one he depended on for every need and comfort. But since Taehyung's arrival, Min-ah had felt the change. In those months, Seokjin would often practice with the Wolfian, dismissing his attendants and leaving her to wait outside, confined to the edges of his attention.

Without realizing it, she drew closer, her heart betraying her with a subtle, silent plea. Lowering herself to his side, she knelt gracefully, her hand drifting to rest upon his thigh, hesitant yet deliberate. She lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting his, revealing a quiet but unmistakable yearning hidden within her expression.

"My Lord," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress yet laced with urgency, "it has been far too long since I last tended to your... personal needs. If it pleases you, I am here, ready to serve as you desire."

Seokjin's gaze softened slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile brushing his lips. His hand rose gently, and with a featherlight touch, his fingertips traced over her lips, causing her to shiver as she felt the warmth of his skin. He held her gaze, his silence speaking louder than words. Min-ah's heart quickened at his touch, taking it as a permission that rekindled a sense of closeness she longed for.

Drawing a slow, steady breath, she moved with a purposeful grace, lifting the fabric of his robes to reveal his form beneath. Her fingers slid upward along his inner thigh, each touch delicate, respectful, and reverent, as though attending to something sacred.

Her hand finally came to rest over the warmth of his growing arousal beneath the smooth fabric of his trousers, and she lowered her gaze, pressing a gentle kiss through the cloth. She felt him react as he hardened beneath her lips, a quiet affirmation of the effect she had on him.

Seokjin's breath hitched softly, his eyes flicking briefly toward the stack of scrolls that lay unfinished on his desk. "I am rather busy tonight," he murmured, his tone both gentle and restrained, a subtle reminder that he still held control.

Yet Min-ah was undeterred. Her hands slipped beneath the fabric of his trousers and gotch, her fingers wrapping around the heated length of him, feeling the way his body reacted instantly to her touch. A playful glint lit her eyes as she looked up, capturing the faint reaction in his gaze.

"My Lord," she whispered, her tone playful as her fingers began to stroke him, moving slowly and deliberately. "It appears you are quite eager beneath your robes."

Seokjin arched a brow, his gaze unwavering as he leaned in slightly closer, his voice calm yet edged with a hint of amusement. "It seems I have been overly lenient of late. Do you no longer heed my words?" he remarked, his tone gentle.

Min-ah offered a coy smile, her confidence unwavering as she slowly drew his length from within his gotch, feeling the warmth and pulse of him growing stronger in her grasp. Leaning forward, she pressed delicate kisses along the flushed tip, savoring the taste and texture of him, then trailing her lips down the firm shaft. She relished the sharp intake of breath that escaped Seokjin's lips, a clear sign of his rising desire. Fully aroused now, she felt a swell of satisfaction course through her at his reaction, knowing she had ensnared him in her allure.

Seokjin's composed façade wavered, his breaths growing unsteady as a quiet sigh escaped his lips, momentarily pulling him away from the focus on the scrolls scattered before him. Min-ah took him deeper into her mouth, employing techniques she had learned from a book, striving to bring Seokjin the pleasure he so richly deserved. Her mouth was filled to the brim, the sensation proving to be far more challenging than the text had suggested.

In the next moment, he gently pulled her upward, lifting her effortlessly and positioning her atop his table. His hands moved with deliberate gentleness as he parted her legs, gathering her robes higher, his gaze locked onto her flushed face as he lowered himself. Min-ah's eyes widened in shock, and heat surged to her cheeks as his face neared the warmth of her inner thighs.

"M-My Lord," she stammered, embarrassment washing over her, prompting a swift attempt to pull away. "How could I possibly let you—please, you need not dirty yourself with me. I am unworthy of receiving such attention from you."

A faint smile tugged at Seokjin's lips as he looked up at her, his warm brown eyes shimmering like polished amber in the soft glow of candlelight. His delicate features, framed by dark hair that cascaded neatly over his shoulders, lent him an air of noble elegance. His features were crafted, with high cheekbones and full lips that curved with an effortless charm.

Everything about him radiated allure—his graceful posture, the way his robes clung to his form, and the soft yet commanding presence he exuded. Min-ah found herself utterly captivated, unable to tear her gaze away from the exquisite man before her. "Nothing about you could ever be considered unworthy," he whispered, his tone warm and resolute, each word tinged with a sincerity that sent her heart racing.

With that, he gently pushed aside her sokgot¹, revealing her tender, glistening skin, already stained with her arousal. Leaning in, he let his lips brush against her warmth, drawing a shudder from her as his mouth found her most sensitive area, delivering a slow, consuming kiss that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Min-ah's body tensed at first, then melted under his touch, each stroke of his tongue igniting a fire within her. Her breath came in soft gasps, mingling with the quiet sounds of the room as he traced lingering patterns against her.

"M-My Lord... oh—ah..." she gasped, her words dissolving into stammered whimpers as he continued to please her with a devotion that was both slow and thorough. Two of his fingers slipped inside her, curling to find that sensitive spot, and she convulsed, her thighs instinctively clenching around his head, utterly helpless under the intensity of her pleasure.

Seokjin's voice dropped to a velvet murmur, its authority undeniable as he leaned in, his breath a warm whisper grazing her skin. "If only you could behold how exquisitely your form yields beneath my touch."

Min-ah's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the heat of her embarrassment mingling with desire. Yet, just as she neared her climax, Seokjin withdrew, straightening as he gazed down at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. Before she could express her disappointment, he gripped her hips firmly, drawing her closer to the edge of the table.

With a single, commanding thrust, he entered her, the cry that escaped her lips resonating softly in the stillness. He held her steady, establishing a slow, deliberate rhythm that left her gasping for breath.

One of Seokjin's hands braced against the table, the other supporting her waist as he moved within her, each thrust measured and unrelenting. The wood creaked beneath the force of their movements, the sound mingling with her soft cries as she clung to him tightly, her fingers tangling in the luxurious folds of his robes.

Min-ah's arms encircled his shoulders, drawing him closer as her legs clasped around his waist, inviting him deeper into her warmth. The soft rustle of silk filled the air, each movement deliberate and unhurried, allowing her to revel in the sensation of him filling her completely. Seokjin's breath mingled with hers, a warm whisper that caressed her skin as he lost himself in the intimate embrace.

Seokjin's movements grew more fervent, his lips trailing along her collarbone, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Min-ah's breaths quickened as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her. Her nails grazed his back, urging him on, the intensity of their connection igniting an urgency between them that left them both breathless.

At last, with a deep shudder, she reached her peak, her body arching against him as waves of pleasure washed over her. Seokjin was entranced by the sight of her bliss, the radiant ecstasy that lit up her face. With a few more languid movements of his hips, he withdrew, his breath quickening as he stroked himself.

With a low groan, he released himself onto her robes, ensuring no stains marred the precious scrolls lying beneath. He observed in silence as the warm evidence of his pleasure spread quickly across the fabric.

Min-ah, still heaving for breath, instinctively replaced Seokjin's hand, her fingers gliding along him with a delicate blend of hesitation and eagerness. A soft groan escaped his lips, his knees threatening to buckle from the intense sensations coursing through him. Yet, with a steady resolve, he placed his hand over hers, gentle yet firm, bringing her actions to a halt. "Enough," he murmured.

Min-ah obeyed, her hand dropping away as if released from a delicate spell. Seokjin smiled softly at the sight of her ruined robes, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Pardon the mess I have caused," he murmured, his tone light yet laced with a hint of mischief, as he tucked himself back into his trousers.

Min-ah shook her head gently, her expression one of dazed satisfaction. Carefully, she climbed down from the table, her legs still unsteady as she adjusted her sokgot and robes. A blush crept to her cheeks when she felt the lingering warmth between her legs, but a contented smile graced her lips as she looked up at him, reassured in her place by his side.

Taehyung could never provide such pleasure for Seokjin; it was beyond possibility and against every societal norm for two men to share such intimacy. The very notion was forbidden, tightly bound by the unyielding traditions of their time. This thought comforted her, allowing her to bask in the afterglow of their encounter.

Lowering herself into a respectful bow, her voice soft yet resonant with pride, she spoke, "It was my pleasure to serve you tonight, my Lord."

Seokjin's gaze remained calm and composed as he settled back in the chair. "Please return and change out of your robe. It would not be wise for you to catch a chill."

Her heart fluttered at his concern, and she nodded with a graceful bow. "I shall take my leave now."

Seokjin's gaze lingered, following her as she moved with fluid grace, slipping through the door and vanishing back into the quiet embrace of the night.

Once Min-ah had closed the door, Seokjin turned his attention back to the unfinished scrolls sprawled across the table. The faint scent of their intimacy lingered in the air, but it meant little to him. These encounters, though fleeting, offered a temporary solace—a brief respite from the weight of his responsibilities. He treated every woman who crossed his path with kindness and respect, yet the depth of his affection remained confined to the surface.

Seokjin understood that romantic attachment had no place in his life, and each woman who graced his presence recognized this unspoken truth. Their shared moments were filled with tenderness, sincere yet devoid of commitment. For him, intimacy was merely a gentle exchange, a soft touch upon the fabric of his existence that never wove itself into the deeper tapestry of his heart.

Taking a deep breath to steady his mind, Seokjin resumed his work. The scrolls, filled with ink and ideas, awaited his careful hand—each stroke a testament to his dedication, unclouded by the complexities of love. Hours slipped by as he concentrated, the steady rhythm of ink upon paper lulling the night into a deeper stillness.

Just as he reached the end of his work, Seokjin's gaze fell upon the corner of a faded, creased paper buried beneath a stack of scrolls. His brow furrowed as he drew it out, recognizing the document that had traveled across great distances from Jeonju, a city renowned for its wealth of rare information.

The Missing Heir of the Wolfian Throne: Crown Prince Kim Taehyung

He had examined this document countless times over the past few days, each reading stirring a tremor of disbelief that he had meticulously buried beneath layers of reason. Yet, he could no longer ignore the fragments of the past emerging from the paper before him.

The document detailed how the Wolfian crown prince—Kim Taehyung, who had been lost nearly 850 years prior, bore three distinct moles on his face. One mole rested just below his nose on the right side, another graced his left cheek near the nose, and the third lay beneath his right eye. While these marks alone could be dismissed as mere coincidence, the text revealed more—an undeniable trait that sealed his identity as the prince: his brown eyes would glint with golden light in moments of heightened emotion, a trait inherited directly from the Wolfian King himself.

Typically, a royal heir would inherit golden eyes, a hallmark of their esteemed lineage. However, Taehyung seemed to lack the strength for such a trait; his eyes remained a deep, rich brown. Yet, whenever strong emotions surged within him, a peculiar glow would emanate from their depths, illuminating the very essence of his royal heritage. This glow served as both a symbol of his lineage and a warning to the Wolfians around him.

In those moments, any Wolfian who witnessed this ethereal radiance found themselves frozen in place, their bodies immobilized as if their will had been entirely subdued. Time would stretch, and they would be rendered powerless to resist, compelled to obey every command spoken by Taehyung, binding them to his will with no room for defiance.

Seokjin recalled witnessing that golden glow multiple times in the forest. While it held no power over him, as he was not of Wolfian blood, he was certain it was the very phenomenon described in the document.

Moreover, based on a rough calculation, Taehyung's age aligned precisely within the timeframe noted; he was definitely not more than a thousand years old.

A heavy sigh escaped Seokjin as the pieces began to align in his mind. It seemed both implausible and absurd that the wild, unrefined Wolfian he had brought back from the forest was, in fact, the long-lost prince the Wolfian kingdom had sought for so long. Yet here lay the facts, bare and undeniable.

He closed his eyes, recalling the fragments of tales woven through hushed conversations and whispers in various cities. It was a story steeped in heartbreak: the young prince, a mere child of three, had vanished from the royal palace due to the negligence of a careless caretaker. Such an age was far too tender to fend for oneself, far too young to form coherent speech without stumbling over words. Yet this boy had been thrust into the wild, forced to endure the unforgiving world alone, stripped of his noble birthright and the love of a family that should have sheltered him.

Another deep sigh, laden with uncertainty, escaped Seokjin's lips as he felt the weight of his newfound knowledge settle heavily upon him. His duty was clear: he should return Taehyung to his rightful place in the Wolfian kingdom. Yet, could he truly sever the bond that had quietly grown between them over the past months? Could he send Taehyung back into a world that, despite its nobility, would offer him nothing but a lifetime of danger and conflict?

The truth was harsh. If Taehyung were to return to the Wolfian kingdom in his current state—innocent, open-hearted, and unfamiliar with the intricacies of royal life—he would be vulnerable. The world of royalty was no place for the unguarded; power struggles would encircle him like ravenous wolves, eager to tear down anyone who threatened their ambitions. The world of the court was a more brutal survival of the fittest than even the wilds.

Moreover, Seokjin knew that nearly three centuries after Taehyung's disappearance, the Wolfian King and Queen had welcomed another son. Kim Namjoon, Taehyung's younger brother, had matured into a formidable prince, well-versed in the ruthless intricacies of court politics. Even at just 500 years old, Namjoon was renowned for his unyielding ambition and feared for his decisive actions. Tales whispered of his mercilessness, recounting how he crushed dissent without hesitation, his judgment swift and unforgiving.

Raised under the strict guidance of the King, Namjoon had been trained in every discipline expected of a future ruler—swordsmanship, tactics of war, diplomatic strategy, and the meticulous study of court etiquette. This rigorous upbringing had honed him into a weapon of leadership, both revered and dreaded.

The thought of placing Taehyung beside someone so ruthless unsettled Seokjin. Taehyung, who knew nothing of the formalities of court, the cunning maneuvers hidden within words, and the delicate balance of power... how could he possibly contend with a rival steeped in royal privilege since birth?

Seokjin was well aware that ambition would always eclipse blood ties. Sending Taehyung back to the Wolfian kingdom would be akin to signing his death warrant. He could not survive against those aligned with Namjoon, who would not hesitate to bring harm to him.

If only Taehyung had not gone missing for so long, the throne would have rightfully belonged to him as the firstborn son. Typically, in the case of a missing crown prince, the throne would remain reserved for him, assuming he was alive and of age. However, a prolonged absence could create a power vacuum, prompting the royal family to consider alternatives, especially if the younger brother had already been acknowledged and trained for royal duties.

Seokjin sighed again, slipping the paper back into the stack with a heaviness in his heart. The truth could wait; he had no intention of rushing a decision that would alter Taehyung's life forever. For now, Taehyung would remain here, under his protection. Seokjin would teach him what he could, preparing him for the world that awaited beyond the safety of these walls.

Closing the study door behind him, Seokjin's footsteps fell softly as he approached the chamber where Taehyung rested. For a moment, he hesitated outside the door, calming his thoughts. Taking a steady breath, he slipped into the room with quiet steps.

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the papered windows, casting a pale light over Taehyung's form, cocooned in the bedding mat. His freshly cut hair now framed his face, no longer the wild, untamed mane he had worn since his time in the wilderness. The shorter length brought a refinement that highlighted the sharp contours of his jaw and the elegance of his features. Seokjin couldn't help but marvel at the transformation; beneath the grime and disheveled locks lay a beauty that had been concealed, now revealed.

Moving closer, Seokjin knelt beside him, gently pulling the bedding mat down to ensure he wasn't stifled within its warmth. Taehyung lay peacefully, his expression softened in sleep, unguarded and serene. The garments Seokjin had ordered draped over him with a regal simplicity that seemed almost natural, as if he were born to wear such attire.

Seokjin leaned closer, captivated by the peaceful expression on Taehyung's face. He instinctively reached out, his fingers brushing the tip of Taehyung's nose in a gentle gesture of unexpected admiration. This rough survivor of the wilderness now lay before him, exuding a quiet grace that stirred something within Seokjin.

"Crown Prince Taehyung..." he murmured, his voice low and reverent, tinged with disbelief. "Who could have imagined such a fate was yours?"

For a moment, he lingered in the silence, his gaze tracing the contours of Taehyung's face, the moles that marked him as royal, the sleeping innocence that belied his true heritage. There was a strange comfort in this quiet moment, a resolve forming within him that strengthened with each passing second.

Under his breath, Seokjin made a solemn vow, his words imbued with quiet determination. "We shall prepare you to become a worthy Crown Prince, one who may even suppress your brother. At the very least, you must master the ways of self-defense within the kingdom." He whispered this promise as if binding it to the moonlit night, a quiet pledge that lingered in the air as he left the chamber, slipping away as silently as he had come.

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¹ A traditional Korean undergarment worn beneath the outer garments of a hanbok. Typically made from light fabric, sokgot is designed to provide comfort and modesty.