The Next Prince, Chapter 7 pg2
The Next Prince, Chapter 7 pg2
Though he didn't like that pillow-face, Khanin still had some humanity left. He didn't like the guilt that was growing in his mind. Although Charan didn't say anything, his sharp eyes staring back at him were clearly filled with sadness.
Even though the victory was his and the title of game master remained, this time, Khanin didn't feel as proud as he usually did. Part of it was because of his father's teachings about sportsmanship, which were deeply ingrained in his mind and haunting him at the right time and place.
‘Know defeat, know victory, forgive, and apologize when you hurt someone or make them feel bad in the game...'If you know these things, you'll become a good athlete.’
Khanin took a deep breath and tried hard to shake off his father's words.
The young man tried to convince himself that this was what he wanted.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Charan deserved a lesson for following him and being the one targeted. Khanin thought this was another way to help the other party stop interfering in his life.
The young man clenched his face, assuring himself with confidence, his thin lips lifted in a small smile before repeating the same words in his heart, trying to get rid of all the worries that lingered.
It's already correct. This is the best way.
Don't overthink it, don't worry too much, I don't see any need to care.
Doing it this way is so much more comfortable...
Comfortable... what does that even mean?
Khanin's footsteps thud along the sidewalk in the midst of London's evening atmosphere. The lights from the shops still shine brightly enough to prevent loneliness. The temperature, which seems to have dropped by two or three degrees, causes the young man's nose to feel a bit tense and soon turns red.
“Ah-choo!” Not a good situation at all. Khanin sneezes forcefully, thankfully raising his hand to cover his nose in time, but it's still an embarrassing moment.
Someone who hasn't spoken a word since stepping out of Samantha's house speeds up and comes closer. From the corner of his eye, Khanin sees Charan pulling something out of his inner coat pocket.
In the next instant, a clean, dark-colored handkerchief is handed to him. The slender figure hesitates for a moment before finally accepting it, seemingly without any other choice.
Khanin takes care of himself, sneezing louder than before, signaling that his problematic nasal passages are acting up annoyingly.
“I'll wash it for you tonight.”
“No need.” The owner of the handkerchief speaks softly, slowing down his pace and stepping back, causing Khanin to feel a throbbing pain in the right side of his head.
Charan acted annoyed, not saying a word to him. Even though they usually don't need to converse, this seems a bit too much.
Not looking at each other, keeping distance, maintaining walking space, like bodyguards or something. It makes Khanin feel irritated and wants to explode.
The young man tries to count to a hundred, telling himself to calm down more than this. But in reality, Khanin can't even count to ten with the same rhythm as his brain orders his body to stop walking and turn to face his counterpart.
“Here.”
“...”
“What's wrong with you?” The speaker tries hard to control his tone, not to sound too provocative. Khanin stares at Charan, who furrows his brow slightly as the other man refuses to look at him as always.
“No... nothing's wrong.”
Clearly, there is something wrong, but he still lies.
“God punishes liars, you know.” That statement would have been slightly more powerful and dignified if they were standing in front of a church, not in a desolate alleyway like today.
Khanin took a deep breath, and Charan looked like someone who was fighting with himself. Inside the other man's head, it seems there's an angel and a devil, or something similar, fighting. His handsome face is distorted, as if he can't swallow or spit it out.
But it all lasts only a moment. In the end, Charan wins and regains his composure, showing that this man is capable of controlling his own mind more than letting the devil or the power of an angel dominate him.
“It's nothing. It's late, let's hurry.” The taller man prepares to lead the way. Khanin takes another deep breath before deciding to shout out the words stuck in his head, letting the other person hear them.
“I'm sorry!”
“...”
“I apologize.” The giant mountain in the middle of Khanin's chest shrank rapidly as soon as he uttered those words. The owner of the pale body pursed his lips, feeling a little relieved when the older man stopped and met his gaze.
“Sorry? For what?”
“Well, you didn't seem okay... after we...” His soft voice trailed off. Khanin searched for words to describe what had happened without using offensive language that could exacerbate the tense atmosphere.
“...”
“Winning the poker game.” The young man felt guilty; he didn't mean to make Charan feel bad... Okay, he did, but he didn't think the consequences would be this severe.
“Hmm. What else?”
“Just 'hmm'?”
“Do you want me to be honest so you can understand what I am?”
“Uh-huh.” The younger man didn't avert his gaze, staring at Charan's face, waiting for an answer from the taller man without any intention of looking away.
“Don't go around kissing random people again.”
“What... “ The response wasn't entirely unexpected. Charan wasn't okay with their kiss... meaning their lips touched, but Khanin didn't understand why the other party forbade him from kissing instead of continuing.
“I won't repeat myself.”
“I didn't kiss anyone randomly, and... let it go, that wasn't a...”
“...”
“It was just a game, Charan.” Khanin didn't think it was cruel speech; his intention was to explain so the tall man would understand in the same direction. The slim figure took a deep breath, meeting the gaze of the much taller man before repeating the thought.
“...”
“Just a game.”
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