Time stalled.
Not like a poetic pause... but a full, jarring halt. Like someone had slammed the brakes on reality and told it to wait a damn second.
Their eyes were locked, and an awkward silence permeated the room.
One gaze unreadable, dark as an ocean trench.
The other?
Panic in its purest, most frantic form.
Though "the fish" hurriedly forced the panic away. His eyes turned sharp, and another round of tounge sticking out occurred.
Secret technique...
Super serious technique, TWICE THE CHARM!
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Liam stood still in the water, waist-deep, steam rolling off the bath's surface and curling against the sharp lines of his bare upper body.
His arms remained loose by his sides, muscles resting with an ease that only made them more defined under the dim glow of the lamps above.
Water droplets trailed down his chest, weaving paths across ridges of lean strength.
He said nothing.
Just stared.
And Mize?
Mize was dying inside.
He didn't need confirmation, he knew Liam had figured it out the second that fish tail made contact with his cheek.
Honestly, his disguise was awful to begin with.
The coloration, the aura, the comedic appearance, he was practically leaking through his scales…
He might as well have slapped Liam with a business card that read:
Hi, I'm Mize. Definitely Not a Fish.
Of course Liam knew.
Of course he'd noticed.
He always noticed.
He always saw through him.
Because, despite how Mize tried to deny it, Liam was closer to him than anyone else ever had been.
Maybe… still was and forever will.
Which made tonight's disaster feel even worse.
He was late.
He tried sneaking in.
He got caught.
He slapped the Yama Lord.
With a fish tail.
And now?
Now he stood still, floating helplessly as the silence thickened.
Mize swallowed hard. A tiny gulp echoed inside his own skull like a death sentence.
Then Liam finally spoke.
"Mimi."
The name dropped like a blade onto a table.
Golden eyes narrowed, calm and piercing, like a hunter eyeing a creature that had just done something profoundly stupid.
His tone was cool. Far too cool. The kind of quiet that screamed.
Unmistakably upset.
'I am dead'
"Y-yes?" Mize's voice wavered out of the fish's mouth, the comically moving lips only worsening the ridiculousness of it all.
Liam stared at him for a moment longer before exhaling. Pinching the bridge of his nose while at it.
Not a sigh of frustration, but something ridiculously unfathomable tonight.
Then, without a word, he released the floating fish back into the water and turned, spinning on his foot.
"Turn back to your human form," he said calmly as he strode away. "And follow me."
He paused at the edge of the pool, glancing over his shoulder with an unreadable look, cold.
"It's an order. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes... I understand." Mize nodded quickly, still bobbing slightly on the surface like a buoy in a storm.
His body shimmered.
Light rippled from his skin as the fish form dissolved, melting away like ink in water.
A moment later, he hovered above the surface, robes clinging weightlessly to his figure.
White fabric brushed his skin, clean and flowing, hair trailing behind him in soft silver waves.
But his eyes…
Mist.
A glimmer of embarrassment, yes, but also something quieter.
Something almost tender.
You know, this would be his first time getting caught doing something bad.
Especially getting caught by the man that owned him. Like a cat getting scolded by the owner.
Escaping this issue out of pity?
Perhaps crying his way out wouldn't work today.
His lips pressed together in a small, conflicted line as he watched Liam walk away.
Still, his body followed, disobedience wasn't an answer at the moment.
Liam stepped out of the bath, rising out from the water in perfect motion.
A flash of black curled upward in thin tendrils, forming a sleek, dark bathrobe around his frame, perfectly fitted and impossibly dry.
The man hadn't even touched a towel.
Mize's gaze lingered just a second too long.
Then he descended softly, feet touching the cool tiles with the silent grace of a falling feather.
A sad feather...
He lifted a hand with a slight flick of his fingers, and the formal white robe changed in a blink.
Replaced by something finer.
A nightgown.
Thin...
Silk-like...
The fabric was almost translucent in certain angles, glistening softly beneath the warm ceiling lights as it draped against his figure.
It clung in the right places, danced in the others.
His long hair curled down over his shoulders like starlight spun into strands.
His bare feet padded lightly against the stone floor, one step behind Liam's steady pace.
'I agreed to his words after all' Mize gritted his teeth and walked forward.
Perhaps… a subtle apology in motion.
Or perhaps just instinct.
He didn't speak.
But his body said enough.
The hallway they entered was quiet, framed by dark wood and floral carvings that twisted around each archway.
Ivy traced along the beams, the scent of night flowers clinging faintly to the air. But none of it registered for Mize.
He was too focused on the sound of their footsteps.
On the way Liam didn't look back.
The heaviness in his chest that felt heavier, heavier than when he was swimming through that abyssal canal.
His fingers fidgeted at his sides, subconsciously.
His hips swayed, not deliberately, but naturally with his steps.
The fabric followed, dancing with him, framing each motion in ghostlike curves.
But Mize wasn't putting on a show.
He was nervous.
Curling his toes with every step, heart beating just a touch too loud in his ears.
And despite how composed he looked, he was very much just a beautiful, exhausted mess walking barefoot into the aftermath of a mistake he really hadn't planned on making.
All he could do now…
Was follow.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Their footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floor, the soft click of Liam's foots and the feather-light taps of Mize's bare feet weaving through the hush like fading drumbeats.
It was grand, absurdly so.
Lavish decorations traced the walls, chandeliers flickered with muted golden light, and floral patterns crawled along the edges of carved beams.
Yet neither of them spared the decor even a glance.
Mize blinked slowly as they stepped deeper into the space.
He almost asked if they'd wandered into the wrong room.
It looked more like a ceremonial dining hall than a bedroom, too wide, too tall, too ornate.
But there in the center… was a bed. A massive one.
Draped in heavy purple curtains suspended by thick wooden beams, each corner carved into the shape of swirling Supertone motifs.
Liam moved ahead.
With a flick of his fingers, the curtain lifted, parting.
He stepped in and spun, letting the fabric fall gently behind him.
Then he sat, right at the edge of the bed, legs crossed, hands folding together beneath his chin.
His gaze was cold.
"So…"
That single word made Mize's shoulders stiffen.
He didn't need the rest of the sentence.
The tone alone said enough.
Mize dropped to his knees without thinking, posture folding itself into something tight, almost ceremonial.
His hands pressed into small fists, resting gently atop his thighs, fingers slightly trembling.
His back was straight, legs tucked neatly beneath him.
But his eyes, those deep crimson eyes, turned away, refusing to meet Liam's.
Not out of defiance, but out of guilt.
Heavy guilt.
And Liam noticed, his eyes narrowing.
'sigh... Troublesome little cherub'
'If I wasn't there, you would've died already'
Still, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, chin on knuckles.
His voice lowered, deeper.
"How should I punish you for tonight?"
The words floated across the room.
Not angry.
Mize didn't respond.
He couldn't.
His throat tightened. There was no excuse, no justification that could make this less of a mess.
And deep down, he knew. He screwed up.
He missed their date.
He snuck into the castle like a thief.
And now… he sat here, in silence, before the one person who expected more from him than anyone else.
Liam's voice followed again.
Cutting through the room.
"Not going to speak?" His gaze narrowed, the sharp golden in his eyes flickering. "Hmm…"
A shadow of something darker curled at the edge of his lips, just enough to make Mize's stomach twist in unknown expectations.
"Or…" Liam continued, voice slow, dangerous in its calmness, "should I lock you in this castle permanently from now on?"
Mize flinched.
"No leaving. No flying around. No sneaking out. You move only when I say. You breathe only when I permit."
"I will lock you in a cage"
"To be fair, I had been thinking of doing this for a long time now"
His heart dropped.
"N-no… that's too much!" Mize blurted, hands flying to his chest, fingers curling into a loose knot just above his heart.
The words came out fast. Not a plea, more like an instinctive rebuttal.
And that?
That caught Liam off guard.
His brows lifted slightly, a bit surprised.
That Mize, timid, delicate Mize, had dared to talk back?
Liam's hand unfolded, fingers sliding slowly across his chin, the slight tilt of his head betraying just how unexpected that response was.
His eyes locked on Mize again, this time a little colder.
"You're talking back… when you know you're the one in the wrong?"
"So daring?!"
The shift in his voice was clear now, deeper, more restrained.
His tone wasn't one of pure anger.
No, this was the kind of tone that came from disappointment.
And yet, despite the tension... Mize didn't back down.
"I-I just… think that punishment is too extreme…" he murmured, "I wasn't doing anything bad, I just snuck in late"
Quiet.
Small.
But still an answer.
He didn't look up. His hands were trembling. His shoulders curled ever so slightly inward.
But even in that fragile display, the defiance clung to his voice, shaky as it was.
And Liam… watched.
Really watched.
His golden eyes scanned every inch of Mize, every fidget, every shift in weight, every twitch in those fingers.
He could see the hesitation, the anxiety, the regret… and yet he could also feel the subtle thread of resistance, buried under the guilt.
It wasn't rebellion.
It was fear of being caged.
Liam breathed out slowly through his nose, his eyes closed momentarily.
He could have snapped. He could have ordered the locks.
Could've pressed him down with a hundred rules and a thousand walls.
'She is unbearably naive, she could've died down there if I didn't stop those creatures'
Whatever...
Not yet.
He just leaned back slightly, hands steepling once more in front of his lips, and stared.
Letting the silence drag out.
what a troublesome little princess...