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The room's air conditioner carried a soft hum, but Alexis Ness's own heartbeat drowned out the background noise. He stood in the center of the hotel room, his feet sinking into plush carpet. His gaze fixed on the room's center where two single beds stood side by side.
“So,” Noa's voice sounded at the doorway, tinged with businesslike urgency, “Kaiser, Ness, you two take this room. Training starts at seven tomorrow morning. Don't be late.”
Michael Kaiser merely responded with a lazy grunt, casually tossing his backpack onto the bed by the window. His movements were cool and effortless, as if this were just a brief, insignificant moment in his life of stardom. For Ness, however, this was a first—the first time sharing such an intimate space with Kaiser.
The door closed behind their coach, leaving only the two of them in the room. Ness's heart instantly raced.
“Bad luck, huh?” Kaiser broke the silence first, walking to the window. He pulled back the heavy curtains and gazed down at the city lights below. The sunshine outlined his tall silhouette and contoured his blue rose tattoo in the hazy light. “Having to share a room with you, of all people.”
Ness's heart clenched, but soon a familiar, almost instinctive obedience surfaced. “I'm sorry, Kaiser,” he apologized reflexively, though he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. “Maybe the hotel was short on rooms... I'll try not to bother you.”
Kaiser turned, that familiar irritated look on his face. “Is that so? Then you'd better keep your word.” His gaze lingered on Ness for a few seconds, as if appraising an intriguing object, before he picked up his clothes and stepped into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the air, and only then did Ness exhale, settling cautiously onto his side of the bed. The mattress was soft, yet he felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles. He harbored a secret, one he had never shared with anyone—he occasionally sleepwalked.
Usually it wasn't serious. From his hazy memories and his family's occasional mentions, he'd at most walk around his room a couple times or sit on the edge of his bed staring blankly before returning to sleep on his own. In the youth academy's dormitory, no one seemed to have ever noticed. But this time was different. This time, he shared a room with Kaiser. What if... what if he did something strange, or said something bizarre in his sleep?
The mere thought of that possibility sent a wave of nausea through Ness's stomach. He absolutely couldn't embarrass himself in front of his emperor!
When Kaiser emerged from the bathroom dripping wet and carrying the fresh scent of shower gel, Ness practically sprinted into the bathroom himself. He deliberately prolonged his washing routine until he felt certain Kaiser must have fallen asleep, then tiptoed out.
Only a dim bedside lamp illuminated the room. Kaiser lay with his back to him, seemingly asleep. Holding his breath like a cat sneaking into forbidden territory, Ness slipped onto the bed as silently as possible and pulled the covers over himself. He forced himself to stay perfectly still, not daring to shift, praying for a peaceful night.
After an unknown span of time, sleep finally overcame his tension, and he drifted into dreams.
Then, the dilemma began.
Kaiser was roused by a faint rustling sound. A light sleeper, he was acutely sensitive to changes in his surroundings. He listened intently for several seconds, determining the noise originated from within the room, not outside the door. Silently opening his eyes, he peered toward the bed opposite him in the faint light filtering through the window.
The bed was empty.
Kaiser raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping the room. Soon, he spotted Ness. Ness stood motionless in the center of the room, facing away from him, frozen as if paused. Dressed in loose pajamas, his figure appeared somewhat frail in the darkness.
Sleepwalking? The word flashed through Kaiser's mind. Amused, he remained silent, simply observing. He wanted to see what this “loyal dog” who obeyed his every command would do in an unconscious state.
Ness stood motionless for about a minute before beginning to move slowly. His gait was strangely normal, though his path was alarming—he made his way toward Kaiser's bedside.
Kaiser narrowed his eyes with interest, maintaining the rhythm of his seemingly slumbering breaths. Ness halted beside the bed, head bowed, as if studying Kaiser's face. In the darkness, Kaiser could sense that gaze—hollow, yet carrying a peculiar intensity.
Then Ness made a move that caught Kaiser off guard. He extended his hand extremely slowly and cautiously, his fingertips hovering just centimeters above Kaiser's cheek, as if tempted to touch yet hesitant to actually make contact. His fingers trembled slightly, as if suppressing a powerful urge.
Kaiser could almost hear the amused chuckle echoing within himself. So that was it. Ness, who usually followed like a shadow and served with the utmost reverence, harbored such thoughts deep within his subconscious.
Just as Ness's trembling fingers were about to brush Kaiser's skin, he jerked his hand back as if burned. He turned and stumbled back to his own bed, collapsing onto it. Soon his breathing evened out, deep and steady, as if nothing had happened.
Silence returned to the room, but Kaiser felt no sleepiness. He rolled over, facing Ness's direction, tracing the outline of the curled-up figure in the darkness. A new, possessive curiosity stirred within him. Alexis Ness was more interesting than he'd imagined.
The next morning, Ness awoke with an uneasy foreboding. He first confirmed he was safely in his own bed before stealing a glance across the room. Kaiser was already awake, propped up against the headboard playing with his phone, his expression as usual—a touch of careless arrogance.
Ness breathed a slight sigh of relief. Everything seemed normal last night.
“Good... good morning, Kaiser.” He sat up, greeting him with a touch of stiffness.
Kaiser glanced up at him, his gaze lingering half a second longer than usual before he gave a faint “Mm.” “Hurry up and get ready. Don't keep me waiting on you.”
Training proceeded as usual. Ness focused all his attention on the ball, on feeding passes to Kaiser. His passes remained precise, his runs relentless, and his praise and defense of Kaiser flowed effortlessly. But only he knew a subtle unease lingered within him, especially when Kaiser’s gaze occasionally landed on him. That look seemed to carry a piercing scrutiny that sent chills down his spine.
During lunch in the cafeteria, this unease reached its peak.
They sat with several youth team teammates. Somehow, the conversation drifted to sleeping habits.
“I thought I heard some noise coming from your room last night,” a teammate remarked casually. “Kaiser, Ness, you two didn't have a fight, did you?”
Ness’s heart instantly leapt to his throat, his fork frozen mid-air.
Kaiser sliced the sausage on his plate, not lifting his head. “Noises?” He chuckled softly. “Nothing. Probably just Ness’s restless sleep. Must be dreaming about how to pass me the ball.”
The teammates laughed, thinking it a harmless joke. Only Ness's face drained instantly. Bad sleep habits? How could Kaiser know? Did he really... last night?
He snapped his gaze toward Kaiser, who had just lifted his eyes. Their eyes met. In that instant, Kaiser's lips remained as neutrally poised as they usually were, but Ness was able to catch a quick flicker of a mischievous glint in his eyes. Ness understood immediately—Kaiser knew. He had seen.
A rush of blood surged to Ness's head, making him feel dizzy. Shame, fear, and a flicker of panic at having his secret exposed nearly overwhelmed him. He instinctively lowered his head, staring fixedly at the food on his plate, unable to taste anything anymore.
One of the other youths, seated diagonally across from him, seemed to sense Ness's unusual emotional turmoil and shot him a slightly concerned glance. “Ness, are you okay? You don't look well.”
To Ness in that moment, this ordinary concern sounded like another form of mockery. He reflexively bristled, “I'm fine! Don't worry about me!” The harshness of his tone surprised even himself.
His teammate frowned but said nothing more. Kaiser, however, let out an ambiguous chuckle, as if witnessing an amusing drama unfold before him.
For the rest of the afternoon, Ness moved like a zombie. During practice, he made several uncharacteristic mistakes—misjudging pass strength, even nearly feeding the ball to an opponent once. With every error, he felt Kaiser's icy stare pierce him, making him even more flustered.
When practice ended at dusk, Ness practically fled, desperate to be the first back in his room. He needed to calm down, to be alone, to figure out what to do.
“Ness.” Kaiser's voice came from behind him, not loud, yet unnerving all the same.
Ness's feet instantly froze in place.
Kaiser walked slowly up beside him, speaking at a volume only the two could hear: “Tonight, don't ‘sleepwalk’ over to my bed again.” His tone was light, but to Ness it struck like thunder.
He snapped his head up, meeting Kaiser’s piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through everything. Fear and an indescribable shame washed over him, sending a chill through his body.
“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kaiser.” He tried to deny it, but his voice was weak and utterly unconvincing.
Kaiser merely smiled, reaching out to pat his cheek. The gesture was intimate, yet dripping with humiliation. “It's fine. I'm looking forward to it.” With that, he stepped past Ness and walked ahead toward the hotel.
Ness stood rooted to the spot, feeling the blood freeze in his veins. Looking forward? What was Kaiser looking forward to? His next humiliation? A profound sense of powerlessness washed over him, as if every aspect of his existence lay within Kaiser's grasp.
That night, Ness lay down with a near-suicidal resolve. He fought desperately to stay awake, telling himself he absolutely must not sleep. Eyes wide, he stared at the ceiling, counting his heartbeats, listening to Kaiser's steady breathing from the bed beside him.
Yet physical exhaustion ultimately overpowered his will. Under the dual strain of intense training and mental pressure, he finally succumbed to sleep.
And so, the second act unfolded.
Kaiser was again roused by the slightest sound. This time, he opened his eyes almost with a sense of theatrical anticipation. Sure enough, Ness was up again. He stood in the center of the room again, but this time he didn't approach Kaiser's bed. Instead, he turned toward the small refrigerator. He opened it and took out a bottle of mineral water—the brand Kaiser usually drank.
Then, holding the bottle, Ness walked stiffly to Kaiser's bedside and placed it gently on the nightstand. After doing this, he didn't leave immediately. Instead, he lowered his head once more and gazed at Kaiser.
In the darkness, Kaiser could hear Ness's voice, faint and dreamlike: “...water... Kaiser...”
In that moment, an indescribable emotion struck Kaiser. It wasn't mockery, nor was it mere amusement—it was something more complex, more piercing. This man named Alexis Ness, even in the unconscious state of sleepwalking, subconsciously thought about how to serve him, how to satisfy his needs. This almost instinctive loyalty (or perhaps something deeper) felt like a tiny needle piercing through the layers of armor he had long used to protect himself.
Just as Ness prepared to turn away, Kaiser suddenly moved. He was no longer merely observing. He reached out and seized Ness's wrist with instant accuracy.
The warm touch on his wrist made the sleepwalking Ness stiffen, his movements halting. His eyes remained vacant, yet his body instinctively tried to pull away.
Kaiser sat up, tightening his grip slightly to draw Ness closer. He tilted his head to look up at Ness standing by the bed. Moonlight seeped through the curtain's slits, outlining Ness's blurred silhouette and those unfocused eyes.
“Alexis,” Kaiser's voice was low, hoarse from sleep yet carrying an undeniable magic, “Tell me. Why are you here?”
Ness's lips moved several times, uttering indistinct syllables as if struggling.
“Speak.” Kaiser's command was concise and forceful.
“...Kaiser...” Ness's voice drifted, as if coming from far away, “...need...water...”
“And?” Kaiser pressed, his thumb unconsciously tracing the inner curve of Ness's wrist. The skin there was thin, the rapid pulse beneath.
Ness fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a voice that was almost a sob, with dependence and confusion, his words coming in broken fragments: "...Can't... Without Kaiser... the magic... will vanish..."
Magic. The word acted like a key, instantly unlocking a gate in Kaiser's memory. He recalled what he'd said to that boy fallen on the field, his eyes losing their light, when they first met— “Hey, loser, do you believe in the impossible?” It was he who had reintroduced the word “magic” to Ness.
And now, within the depths of this dream, Ness equated himself entirely with magic.
A fierce, unprecedented possessiveness seized Kaiser. He realized that this person's entire faith, his entire world, hinged solely upon him. The power this realization brought was intoxicating. Yet simultaneously, a subtle stirring—one he himself refused to acknowledge—began to grow within him. He was accustomed to malice, accustomed to manipulation, accustomed to pushing everyone away. Yet Ness's utter abandon, this devotion so clear even in unconsciousness, stirred an unfamiliar flutter within him.
He released his grip on Ness's wrist, yet did not let him go. Instead, he raised his hand and gently brushed against Ness's cheek. The warmth transmitted through his fingertips was real, the skin soft to the touch. Ness trembled slightly under his touch but offered no resistance, merely “gazing” at him blankly with those hollow eyes.
“Listen, Alexis,” Kaiser's voice was low and clear, as if he intended to etch these words directly into the other's subconscious, “your magic hasn't vanished. It's right here.”
He paused, his fingertips tracing Ness's jawline, feeling the other's tremor grow more pronounced.
“And I,” he murmured almost in a whisper, his tone carrying a sense of declaration, “permit you to remain where you can wield magic.”
With that, he guided the still-somnambulistic Ness to bend forward. Then, Kaiser tilted his head back and pressed a kiss as light as a feather to Ness's forehead.
The touch was cool, yet it felt like an electric current.
Ness's body jerked violently, a crack appearing in the emptiness of his eyes before vanishing again. Kaiser released him, watching as Ness stumbled back to his bed like a robot completing a task, lay down, and regained his composure.
Once again, only the sound of their breathing occupied the room. But this time, the air carried something utterly different. Kaiser lay back on his pillow, his fingertips still seeming to hold the warmth of Ness's skin and the memory of that momentary tremor. He licked his lips, feeling his heartbeat in his chest with an unfamiliar rhythm. Suddenly, he thought perhaps “magic” wasn't entirely nonsense after all.
The next morning, Ness awoke to an unusual sense of calm. He'd slept deeply last night, free of nightmares and without the usual exhaustion that followed sleepwalking. He even vaguely recalled a warm, reassuring touch.
He sat up and looked across the room. Kaiser was already fully dressed, standing before the mirror adjusting his collar. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden halo around him, making the blue rose tattoo stand out with striking clarity.
Ness instinctively opened his mouth to say good morning, but found himself at a loss for words. Kaiser’s words from last night—“I’m looking forward to it”—and his earlier warning still weighed on his heart like stones.
Yet Kaiser turned first. His gaze fell on Ness, no longer scrutinizing or teasing, but holding a... profound calm Ness couldn't quite name. Even within those icy blue depths, a faint, elusive warmth seemed to lurk.
“Awake?” Kaiser's tone was ordinary, just like every morning before.
“Mm... awake.” Ness answered cautiously.
Kaiser turned and walked to Ness's bedside, pausing. He looked down at the slightly flustered figure sitting on the bed, then suddenly bent over. His hand swept a strand of hair from Ness's forehead. The motion was natural, even carrying a hint of casual intimacy, his fingertips lightly grazing Ness's skin.
Ness froze completely, his breath catching. Where Kaiser had touched him, it felt as though sparks were igniting.
“Today,” Kaiser straightened up, his tone returning to its usual arrogance, though something seemed different, “pass me some decent balls. Not like yesterday, when you were so distracted.”
With that, he turned toward the door. “You have five minutes. Meet me in the dining hall.”
The door closed softly behind him, leaving Ness alone in the room. He sat blankly on the bed, his fingers involuntarily tracing the spot on his forehead where Kaiser had touched him. There was no mark, yet he felt as if an invisible imprint had been etched there.
What exactly happened last night? Why did Kaiser's attitude shift so subtly? That vague, warm touch... Was it a dream?
Countless questions swirled in Ness's mind, yet strangely, he felt no panic. Instead, a secret, sweet hope crept like a vine, quietly wrapping itself around his heart. He recalled Kaiser's gaze from earlier—it seemed devoid of yesterday's icy coldness and mockery.
He leapt out of bed and rushed into the bathroom to wash up. His reflection in the mirror bore an unnatural flush on his cheeks, yet his eyes shone with an astonishing brilliance. He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face in an attempt to calm himself.
By the time he hurried to the dining hall, Kaiser was already seated at his usual spot, a simple breakfast laid out before him. Several teammates sat at the table, chatting and laughing. Ness carried his tray, hesitated, then headed for the seat opposite Kaiser. He couldn't face his emperor, and turned his attention to his teammates, even inadvertently making awkward eye contact with one.
“What are you looking at?” Kaiser's voice sounded indifferently. He was poking at a fried egg with his fork, but his gaze was fixed on Ness's face.
Ness's heart tightened, and he quickly denied it: “Nothing.”
Kaiser hummed in acknowledgment, not pressing further, but Ness could feel his gaze still fixed on him. This sensation of being watched made him both tense and oddly, inexpressibly excited.
When training began, Ness forced himself to concentrate. His passing regained its former precision, even becoming defter than before, each ball delivered perfectly to Kaiser's most comfortable running lanes. He pushed last night's mystery from his mind, no longer fixating on his teammates. His entire world seemed to shrink to the pitch, to the figure in the Bastard München jersey—Michael Kaiser, radiant like an emperor.
After a brilliant one-two combination ended with Kaiser calmly slotting the ball into the net, he unusually didn't turn to celebrate immediately. Instead, he glanced back at Ness. He said nothing, merely tilting his chin slightly in Ness's direction, a barely perceptible curve touching his lips.
It was an almost imperceptibly small gesture, nearly negligible. Yet Ness saw it clearly. In that instant, he felt his heart suddenly fill with something warm and expansive. The sunlight bathed not only Kaiser but also his own heart. He suddenly realized that perhaps some secrets never needed to be fully unraveled. Like magic, it was precisely their indescribable nature that made them so precious.
After training, the setting sun dyed the sky a warm orange. The team members walked back to the hotel in small groups. Ness habitually lagged half a step behind Kaiser, following in his wake.
As they approached the fountain by the hotel entrance, Kaiser suddenly stopped. He turned and looked at Ness. The golden afterglow outlined his perfect silhouette, his blue eyes appearing deep and unfathomable in the light.
“Hey, Ness.” He spoke.
“Yes, Kaiser?” Ness answered immediately, his heartbeat accelerating involuntarily.
Kaiser stared at him, his gaze lingering on his face for so long that Ness almost thought something was smeared on his own. Then, Kaiser spoke in a tone that was almost casual, yet carried a certain indisputable claim:
“Tonight, if you ‘sleepwalk’ again—” He paused, watching Ness's body tense instantly. That familiar, slightly wicked smile returned to the corner of his mouth, but this time, it seemed tinged with something else. “Remember, come straight here.”
With that, he turned away without looking at Ness's flushed face or his speechless expression of shock, walking straight into the hotel lobby.
Ness stood frozen in place. The splashing of the fountain echoed around him, yet it couldn't drown out the thunderous pounding of his heart. The evening breeze ruffled his hair, but it couldn't cool the burning heat on his face.
Come... straight over?
He watched Kaiser's figure disappear behind the hotel's revolving doors. The silhouette remained as straight and arrogant as ever, radiating an aura that kept others at bay. Yet in Ness's eyes, it seemed to open a door he'd never imagined existed.
He drew a deep breath, inhaling the evening's cool air mingled with a faint, elusive trace of Kaiser's unique scent. Raising his hand, he gently touched his forehead once more, feeling a magical mark that bloomed only for Michael Kaiser.