I Became a Side character in a BL novel

58-Difficult as water (2)

TW: EXPLICIT S*X SCENES, 18+ CONTENT

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As night fell, the crowd finally settled and returned to their rooms. The Evermore Villa had grown still, the noises, the greed, the laughters and the intensity had long faded.

Outside, the silver-lit forest murmured with the sounds of nocturnal life-soft cries drifted through the window behind me as I sat there on the windowsill, arms folded tightly across my chest, my meshy shrug wrapped snugly over my nightdress. The cicadas behind chirped louder than necessary, as though mocking my discomfort.

Something about spending the night with a criminal, a perverted man who tried to murder me made my skin crawl!

But asking for a separate room would raise more eyebrows than I could handle...

I could already imagine the scandalous whispers...

How can a husband and wife sleep in different rooms!?

Are they fighting? Is it going to end up in a divorce?

Finally, the seemingly happy arranged marriage had broken?

Fuck.

The gossip would spread faster than a plague. Ugh... too exhausting. Better to just grit my teeth and shut up.

And then-he entered.

His damp blonde hair clung to his temples, evidence of a rushed wash. The dark robe hung loosely at his collar, still clinging faintly to his damp skin. There was a lazy confidence in his stride, an unbothered ease, like he belonged here.

Well technically he did, but I cannot stand the fact that he did.

I exhaled sharply and rolled my eyes.

Sensing my discomfort, Arron leaned against the wall, raising a brow.

"Would it offend the Duchess if I breathed too loud?"

This son of a-

"It would offend me if you slept within ten feet of me," I shot back to the point.

"The bed is mine. You take the floor," I added without hesitation.

He chuckled, low and dry. "That's harsh. The floor's cold and hard."

"Great. Enjoy that." I rolled my eyes again.

He reached into his coat pocket. "If I'm to be cast out cold like a stray dog, at least allow me some warmth."

Huh? What now?

From his pocket, he produced a small, lacquered wooden box, setting it carefully on the windowsill beside me. He opened it with a quiet reverence. Inside lay a cone-shaped pipe, made of rough clay and stained with age, alongside a pouch of dried green-brown herbs. Its scent was sharp, musky-earthy and ancient.

"What is that?" I asked, warily curious.

"Something... nice," he replied, a crooked half-smile tugging at his lips.

Then it hit me.

Drugs?

"Wait, don't tell me that's..."

"They call it chillum. Got it from the East. The locals say it lets you meet the gods."

"Illegal gods, I presume," I muttered.

He laughed softly, not bothering to deny it. "Illegal here. But I have my ways."

"And you brought it into a noble estate?" My eyebrows climbed. His audacity never ceased to amaze me.