Kiss the Stranger

My heart sounded as if it were beating from somewhere far away. My pulse throbbed at my temples, my mouth went bone dry. In my mind alarm bells rang wildly, yet my feet, which had moved on their own, stubbornly froze me in place.
The thick, sweet scent flowing to my nose made my head spin. My knees gave out, and my vision blurred—but still my gaze remained fixed on him, unable to look away. The long corridor of arching columns opened onto a spacious, well-kept garden outside. He stood in the inner courtyard. I slipped behind a pillar and watched.

Why would he be at such a place at this hour…?
My heart hammered with both unease and longing. I blinked repeatedly, trying to refocus. How long had it been since I last saw him? A week? Ten days? A month? I’d never imagined encountering him here, so suddenly, so unexpectedly. I held my breath, staring at the side of his face.
He stood utterly still. His cropped black hair stirred only when the breeze caught it; otherwise he made no movement, his gaze fixed on some distant point. On his face was an expression I had never seen before.

Had I ever seen Kamar look so desolate?
Absolutely not. With me, he had always shown a range of emotions and countless expressions, but never this hollow look. I could scarcely believe any human could wear such emptiness. The moonlight outlined his sculpted features like a cold statue—beautiful, yet accentuating the blankness. Had I not smelled that potent fragrance, I would have nodded, thinking him a statue come to life.
Dressed not in traditional robes but a black suit, he stood tall, hands thrust in his pockets, staring into the void. I realized suddenly it was him—the same figure I first saw in the palace, those cold violet eyes.

A chill gripped a corner of my heart. My recovering body ached anew. He still had not noticed me. Now was my chance to flee—before he turned, before he discovered me.
I must get away…
But instead of moving, I remained rooted, incapable even of tearing my eyes from his empty face.
What was he thinking?

I watched him silently. Though only a few meters separated us, it felt as vast as the distance between Earth and the moon. That unfamiliar gulf, one I’d never felt beside Kamar, seemed to hollow me out.
If, really, he were only someone who resembled him…
At that thought, my vision blurred again, for reasons other than tears. Relief and disappointment spread through me. Then—where was Kamar?

My knees gave way and I staggered. My foot slipped, and with a small gasp I bumped against the pillar. Despite its softness, he reacted instantly. He turned his head, and our eyes met—sending a shiver down my spine.
My heart, which had paused, now pounded wildly. I instinctively took a step back, but Kamar’s features—no, Asgail’s—knitted in confusion, and he spoke.
“Stay there.”

His voice was colder than the desert wind at midnight, freezing me in place. I could do nothing but press myself against the pillar as he advanced in slow steps. The sweet scent that once comforted me now felt like punishment. My mouth was parched; I tried to swallow, but no saliva came. I stood trembling, unable to speak. Then a terrifying realization struck.
I didn’t take my medicine.
I’d been in the steward’s lab all day and forgot. Darkness closed in before my eyes as the men’s earlier words echoed in my mind—including the Crown Prince’s.

If they discover I’m an omega here…
Asgail’s voice cut through my panic.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

His quiet tone bore no hatred, no anger—only an utterly businesslike inquiry. I blinked, bewildered.
Could he not smell my pheromones over his own?
I lifted my eyes, and instantly his violet gaze searched mine. He was much closer than I’d realized—so close my scent would surely betray me.

“They plan to mate frenzied omegas with monkeys.”
Terror seized me. Kamar would never do such a thing.

But Prince Asgail?

I looked up at him in fear, but he showed no reaction. Surprised by his indifference, I froze. He frowned slightly, then, as if coming to a decision, his expression softened. Before I could comprehend, he spoke.
“I heard Nadim invited an old friend—are you that friend?”
Nadim? A name I’d never heard. My heart chilled—was I his guest? Before I could think further, his tone turned unexpectedly gentle.
“You shouldn’t wander at this hour. Didn’t Nadim tell you? Women shouldn’t be out alone at night.”

I stared wide-eyed—astonished that at this distance he neither recognized me nor realized I was a man, and moved by his kindness. But he continued.
“Which room are you staying in? Nadim’s? I’ll escort you.”
Then he smiled. The instant I saw that smile, the world tilted—and just seconds later, standing before me was Kamar, impossibly back in the courtyard.

My heart threatened to burst. I wanted to fling my arms around him, to tell him how much I’d missed him—but I couldn’t move, only blink.
My vision blurred again. I closed and opened my eyes—and there he was, Kamar, looking down at me in surprise. Oh—I must be crying. Suddenly I understood. Of course he looked confused; here I was, weeping without warning. When I cried, Kamar always wore that gentle, concerned expression, unsure how to comfort me.
If it were Kamar, he would have wiped my tears.

As if on cue, he raised a hand. I couldn’t see his face through my tears—only his hand, hesitating, reaching toward me.
Would he hold me like before and say it would be all right?
“Yohan!”

At that sudden call, the spell broke. In an instant the world flipped again—and before me stood Prince Asgail. I turned to find the steward, pale, hurrying toward us. My heart rate slowed, reality returning.
“…Steward.”
Asgail murmured. The steward reached us, breathless, and hurried between us.

“Your Highness! At this hour—how—?”
His voice trembled. He must have awoken and panicked to find me gone, then searched until he reached me. I looked at his back and silently mouthed, Sorry. Then Asgail spoke.
“Is it strange that I’m in my own garden?”

His tone dripped with sarcasm; the earlier kindness was gone. The steward laughed awkwardly.
“N-no, not at all! Just surprised. You’re not asleep yet, ha ha.”
Asgail ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) did not respond. The steward’s laugh faded into silence. The cool breeze rustled the leaves. Gently, I gripped the steward’s arm—and Asgail spoke again.

“Do you know this person?”
His quiet question made the steward hesitate before nodding.
“Yes. You saw him before—my assistant, Yohan.”

“……”
Asgail did not react. I peered around the steward to see his expression, but his face remained inscrutable. After a pause, he spoke again.
“Your assistant?”

His voice was lower still. The steward answered, “Yes.”

“He must have been beaten by your guards back then—you couldn’t see his face. Of course—it was bloodied, and a rib was cracked.”
Asgail raised an eyebrow at the steward’s reminder of past events.

“…Is he not male?”
“Yohan is male, of course.”
The steward answered readily. Silence fell again. I could no longer hold back my curiosity and peered from behind the steward. Our eyes met—he caught me spying, and I shrank back. The steward then asked Asgail,

“Are you disappointed, Your Highness?”
“……”
Asgail said nothing. He frowned and murmured something under his breath, then, without another word, turned and walked away. I watched him go from behind the steward.

When we were alone again, he turned to me anxiously.
“Yohan, are you all right? Did nothing happen?”
“I’m sorry… for worrying you.”

I tried to tell him about Rikal, but before I could, he scolded me.
“Really—how could you wander off like that? At least wake me to go with you!”
I had no excuse and apologized.

“I’m sorry… Rikal ran out, and I went to find him…”
“What if something happened!”
He ran a hand through his hair, murmuring to himself,

“Good thing you took your suppressants. Thank goodness at least you remembered those.”
“Um…”
I looked at him, and he scowled.

“What’s with that look?”
“Actually, I forgot to take them.”
“……”

“I’m sorry, Steward. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I apologized again, but his expression didn’t soften. Growing more worried, he suddenly grabbed my shoulder and sniffed loudly near my throat.
“St-Steward?”

I gasped, but he continued, smelling my neck, ear, cheek, even my collarbone. At last he looked up, stunned.
“You really didn’t take them?”
“Yes. I was in the lab all day, and not taking them became a habit…”

He stared at me, speechless. Confused, I blinked—and he suddenly straightened and scanned our deserted surroundings. Satisfied we were alone, he met my eyes and whispered.
“Yohan.”
“Yes?”

His tone was grave; I stiffened. He said quietly,
“Let’s go back to my room. We’ll talk there.”