Page 22 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

Lying on his belly, one arm stretched across the smooth sheet, the other draped over Yugo’s thigh, Kuon watched the long fingers twizzle the unlit cigarette. The sweet aroma of raw vanilla tobacco drifted through the air, lulling him into a doped state where it was easier to stare than to think.

In the distant, yellow light that struggled to cross the room and reach the bed, Yugo’s elongated, well-trimmed fingers appeared a bit blurred, but even Kuon’s imperfect vision couldn’t diminish their beauty.

He wouldn’t admit it for the world, but he’d enjoyed licking Yugo’s hands just as much as admiring them now.

Strong yet slender, with a bluish network of veins tracing the backs, they looked like they had been stolen from an ancient marble statue.

His knuckles bore strong calluses earned from martial training.

Tough yet unbroken, unblemished by injury, they were still balanced by a hint of Yugo’s innate, dark elegance.

Such fingers seemed better suited for a sculptor or musician and should have no business belonging to a mobster, but then again, neither should the former detective.

Yet, here he was, lying on black sheets, watching the oval stone on Yugo’s little finger glint.

It trapped both the light and Kuon’s gaze.

With his other hand, Yugo stroked Kuon’s hair, twirling the short strands between his fingers. He looked content, calm, and refreshed, unlike the victim of his passion.

Not a single ounce of energy remained in Kuon’s body. Water, sex, and the long struggle with dinner left him utterly drained. He was glad that food had been served after they left the bathroom; otherwise, shame would have added to his already mixed feelings.

In his inert state, only his gaze retained its ability to move. It kept stubbornly drifting toward the false wall that concealed the Black Duke’s secrets. Whenever he caught himself staring at the wall lamp, he forced his eyes away, fearing Yugo might see through his intentions.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep refused to claim Kuon.

He blinked with heavy eyelids as his palm crumpled the fresh sheets, searching for coolness.

The familiar sensation, closely associated with Yugo’s bedroom, sparked a chain reaction in his mind.

All the questions he wanted to ask, but hadn’t—because of Yugo’s stupid game—flooded his thoughts.

Tobias, Mio, the box, the surveillance room, their future together, and his place in Yugo’s life.

Many questions gnawed at him, though he didn’t want to hear every answer.

But one thing remained essential. “Where is Mio now?”

“Hm?” Yugo turned his head to size him up.

His eyes, just a moment ago clouded with distant thoughts, cleared.

“He’s been living with Tobias since that day.

” Yugo drew a few lazy circles in the air with the cigarette tip, as if rewinding time.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he struggled to find a more precise way to say it.

To spare him the trouble, Kuon nodded in understanding.

“I don’t see him much, if that’s what’s bothering you. ”

Kuon had to force his lazy tongue to move, careful that his words didn’t sound muffled as they sluggishly left his mouth. “Why with Tobias if you don’t trust him?”

“It’s a long story. There were reasons for it.”

“Hmm…” The vague answer didn’t satisfy Kuon. His fingers kept rubbing the cool silk as he tried to sound unconcerned while venturing a question. “Could he be acting in Mio’s interest?”

The pupils shrank, making his eyes look colder and harder, but Yugo replied in the same calm tone. “I don’t think so. Tobias dislikes Mio. Actually, it’s mutual. Why do you ask? Did he do or say anything to you?”

An undercurrent of suspicion seeped into Yugo’s tone, putting Kuon on alert.

“No.” He managed a nonchalant smile. “Just curious.”

He dislikes Mio… Kuon pondered the answer, trying to collate the new information with the world picture he knew, but it refused to fit. If they hate each other, why on earth do they live together? What could possibly bind them for over two years? Why is Yugo so evasive with his answers?

Kuon scowled, not sure how to keep asking without arousing even more suspicion, when Yugo added, “But Tobias might be acting in his own interests; in a way, they coincide with Mio’s.

He wants the brat off his hands before they kill each other just as much as Mio wants to get back on my good side.

The best outcome for them is for Mio to move in here. ”

And I’m in the way, huh? Kuon rolled onto his back and peered at the ceiling, but there were no answers on it. Move in here with whom, his uncle or his lover?

His stomach churned. His plan to avoid dwelling on the past and focus on recovery crumbled as reality caught him faster than expected.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know more about Mio and their unhealthy relationship.

Even if Yugo confirmed it, nothing would change.

However, for some unfathomable reason, he opened his mouth and surprised himself with a question.

“If I ask about Mio, would you tell me the truth?”

A rustling beside him made Kuon turn his head.

With a casual movement, Yugo put the tormented cigarette into his mouth and turned to the nightstand to look for a lighter, but froze mid-action, as if changing his mind.

The still unlit cigarette fell onto the polished surface, and Yugo brought his attention back to Kuon. “Ask.”

In the depths of Yugo’s gray eyes, Kuon read intense attention, as if Yugo were mentally preparing himself for a fight, not a conversation. His shoulders tensed; the blue vein on his neck popped out.

“Ask,” not “yes” or “I will.” Why? Is he avoiding telling the truth, or am I being paranoid? Kuon had to look away to collect his thoughts, frustrated by his own speculations.

“You and him… um, are you… were you…” Feverishly searching the ceiling with his gaze, Kuon realized he had no idea how to phrase his question or what exactly to ask.

How did you two become lovers? Kuon winced. What if I misunderstood? No one has ever confirmed or denied it except Mio, who could have lied. Anyway, who would have sex with their nephew?

The answer lounged on the pillow next to him, watching him with a cryptic expression.

Kuon had never had illusions about Yugo’s morality.

Blood ties would hardly stop him from being involved with whoever he desired, and Mio was beautiful and so in love.

The way the boy had defended their relationship suggested there was something to protect, and he felt entitled to do so.

Kuon chewed on the inside of his cheek, admitting that he had no reason to doubt Mio’s claims either.

He also suspected that things were easier for them because they were both men.

Their relationship wasn’t tainted by the thought of an unwanted child born of incest. Kuon cringed, realizing he didn’t want to think about it, and he certainly didn’t want to hear their story.

Why did you fall out with him? There was no point in asking this either. Kuon had a pretty clear idea that Yugo couldn’t forgive Mio for going against him and betraying his trust.

Then what do I want him to say? That he no longer has feelings for Mio?

Would that even be true? What if Yugo only wanted me because I was a favorite toy that had been taken from him by force and it hurt his ego?

The thought stung. Yugo never looked at me the way he looked at Mio.

He never said that he had feelings for me either.

I bet he’s just being gentle now because I’m hurt.

After all, he’s only ever gentle when I’m hurt.

Once I’m healed, we’ll be like animals in heat.

God, we already are. We don’t even talk.

He knew nothing about Yugo’s past or family, not even simple things like Yugo’s favorite food or books.

Does he even like to read? Fuck, is there anything that connects us besides sex and…

the past? There must be something, right?

His mind drew a blank. Kuon’s meager knowledge about the Black Duke was derived from police files and their twisted relationship. But despite their forced proximity, the only thing he’d learned much about was Yugo’s bed.

Kuon’s cheek twitched, heart pulsing with doubt.

The nagging, pressing pain settled between his temples just as it always did when he thought about the past. Sour saliva flooded his mouth, making him realize that he didn’t want to know anything at all.

His mood darkened; he regretted not going to sleep sooner.

“Never mind. I don’t even know what I want to ask. I guess I’m exhausted.”

Even if it’s just sex, does it really matter? Not that I expected anything else… He rolled over, closing his eyes as his headache became unbearable. I don’t want to think about it. Anyway, none of it would matter if Yugo discovers the footage. If he does, we would be less than strangers, or worse…

A soft click of the lights going out was preceded by a rustle. A broad chest pressed to his back as strong arms wrapped around his torso. Yugo didn’t ask anything, and somehow that frustrated Kuon.

A drawn-out, weak moan full of pain rang in Kuon’s ears, accelerating his already pounding heart.

He jerked awake, grasping his chest with a clammy hand.

Phantom pain roiled beneath the scarred, wet skin, shredding his insides.

For a spectral wound that followed him from a simple nightmare, the pain felt unforgivably real.