The Wandering Samurai and his Beloved General (BL)

The next day, the soldiers were jolted awake by the sound of the morning gong, scrambling out of their beds to start their routines.

Haruki's roommates, unaware of the storm he had stirred the night before, moved about their morning tasks with casual ease. They donned their black robes and strolled leisurely toward their respective duties. The pure-blooded elf among them headed dutifully to the north watchtower to begin his shift as its guard, while Verdan and another human companion made their way toward the training grounds.

"Come on, Haruki! Don't let the instructor punish you before you're even recruited! You won't be able to wash that black stain!" Verdan called, half-dragging a still-drowsy Haruki toward the door.

The word "recruited" snapped Haruki fully awake. With a smirk, he patted Verdan's shoulder and gave him a condescending nod. "I, Haruki, was personally told to report to the general first thing today by the general himself! I'll go ahead. Don't worry—I promise I won't forget you guys."

Verdan's jaw dropped, his mouth hanging wide open in disbelief at Haruki's audacity. "Don't joke! If the general really called for you, I'd have heard about it yesterday!"

"How could you? You were snoring so loudly that you didn't hear your amazing friend sparring with the general yesterday!" Haruki said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, as if Verdan had truly missed a once-in-a-lifetime event. Some soldiers might have argued he actually did.

Verdan scoffed, tutting in disbelief. Just as he opened his mouth to retort—or perhaps deliver a friendly slap to jolt his friend out of his supposed delusion—a passing soldier tapped Haruki lightly on the shoulder and, with a chuckle, repeated, "For good luck."

By the time the fifth soldier had done the same, Verdan had seized Haruki by the shoulders and shaken him furiously. "What happened?!"

Haruki, slightly dizzy from the shaking, calmly patted Verdan's arm. "I'll tell you later. Like I said, I have to report to the general right away. Don't bother saving me a seat in the mess hall—I'm going to shamelessly eat breakfast with the general." With those roguish parting words, Haruki skipped off toward the encampment's inner circle, leaving his friends behind in a state of bewildered disbelief.

To their astonishment, no one stopped him. His head remaining intact.

The two exchanged wide-eyed looks, silently questioning whether they were still dreaming. Their shared shock was evident.

As Haruki ventured into the encampment's heart, the atmosphere shifted noticeably. The air was heavier here, thick with a sense of seriousness that bordered on oppressive. He felt the weight of unseen eyes following his every move, their watchful presence unsettling and impossible to pinpoint.

Despite the tension, Haruki pressed on. Though he had never been to this part of the camp before, he had seen the general's tent from a distance often enough to know where to go.

When he finally stood before the large tent, all the unease he'd carried since entering the inner circle melted away, replaced by a giddy nervousness. His heart raced, his excitement mounting as he prepared to step forward.

"Hello, I was told to report to the general," Haruki said with a bright smile to the two guards stationed outside the tent.

One of them furrowed his brows, while the other raised an eyebrow in amusement. Before either could respond, a familiar, languid voice drifted from inside.

"Come in."

The guards stepped aside, though one did so reluctantly, his hostility barely concealed.

Haruki took note of it immediately. While he kept his outward demeanor light, he silently etched the guard's face into his memory. Such strong animosity couldn't be ignored—he had learned to be wary of betrayal the hard way.

Without missing a beat, Haruki lifted the flaps of the tent and stepped inside.

From the outside, the dark red tent looked ordinary save for its massive size. But inside, Haruki felt as if he'd entered the first floor of a noble's mansion. To his right was an open kitchen equipped with the latest magical tools, while the center featured a spacious living room that doubled as a study, complete with two enormous shelves filled with books. To the left lay a luxurious bedroom adorned with intricate decorations fit for nobility. The hardwood floor beneath his feet gleamed as if freshly polished. He tapped it lightly, half-disbelieving its solidity, before lifting his gaze—and immediately spotting the general.

All rational thought fled his mind, and a silly smile spread across his face. "Good morning, General!"

Lanling was dressed differently today, wearing a striking robe of red and black with golden accents. He sat lazily on a sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a book held casually in his hand. Placing the book on the table, he turned to Haruki.

"Come, sit," he gestured to the seat opposite him.

Haruki's face lit up as he instinctively moved toward Lanling's side but stopped himself, worried about seeming overzealous. Instead, he obediently took the seat across from the general, sitting with an air of restrained excitement.

"You should have learned from the soldiers the significance of what happened yesterday," Lanling began, his tone calm yet probing. "What are your plans?"

Haruki immediately understood the question. Yesterday's events had revealed his gift—a rare connection to the wind. The general wanted to know how he intended to use it.

Haruki's mind raced. He knew the expected answer: to pledge his power to the country and its people. Yet, in his heart, he knew that wasn't his true motivation.

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Closing it again, he wrestled silently with the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

Lanling noticed his hesitation but remained patient, quietly observing the emotions that flitted across Haruki's face. A flicker of surprise passed through his gaze, though Haruki, preoccupied with his internal struggle, missed it.

After a long pause, Haruki finally spoke. "…May I be so bold as to say what's really in my heart, General?"

Lanling didn't answer right away. Instead, he met Haruki's cautious gaze with calm composure.

With a wave of his hand, a teapot and two delicate cups materialized on the table. The fading glow from the silver ring on his right index finger revealed the origin of the items. He poured tea into both cups with effortless grace, the soft clink of porcelain punctuating the quiet.

With a gentle motion, he slid one cup toward Haruki, who accepted it with both hands. His heart pounded wildly, as though it might burst from his chest.

"You don't have to be so polite with me," Lanling said slowly, his voice smooth and measured. "Speak."

His fingers brushed the edge of his teacup in a lazy, almost teasing motion. Yet, to Haruki, it felt as though the gesture was directed at his heart, leaving it fluttering in his chest.