The Rogue System [BL]
Chapter 308 - Haunted cold palace

Chapter 308: Chapter 308 - Haunted cold palace

Eric had barely gotten over the fact that he’d survived that carriage ride he was dragged—yes, physically dragged—by two silent, stone-faced soldiers through the winding streets of a deserted palace sector. Their boots clomped against cracked stone paths overgrown with brittle weeds.

The area felt... off. Haunted, even.

Like someone had died here and never truly left.

"Where are we going?" he asked for the tenth time.

His captors, predictably, didn’t answer.

They stopped in front of a gloomy, sprawling complex with flaking red columns, curling wooden eaves, and faded murals that might’ve once shown graceful dancers but now just looked like weird ghosts mid-sneeze.

The once-elegant structure had clearly seen better days.

Dead vines choked the wooden railings, flower pots were either shattered or filled with dry dirt and what might have been a single stubborn mushroom, and the windows—those weren’t windows anymore, just holes covered with paper that had long given up staying intact.

Eric stared at the structure, stomach twisting. "What is this? A Chinese haunted mansion?" he muttered. "No... wait... wait a minute... Oh my god... this isn’t one of those ancient... cold palaces, isn’t it?"

The word came to him like a curse from a long-dead eunuch: Guiyuan Yuan—the Courtyard of Grace and Harmony. Otherwise known, in less flowery language, as the official concubine quarters.

A fancy way of saying: You’re not important enough to live in the actual palace, but here, enjoy being decorative furniture in a haunted dollhouse.

The soldiers shoved him forward, and Eric stumbled over the threshold. As he stepped inside, his eyes darted upward.

A white cloth hung from one of the high wooden beams.

It wasn’t flapping gently in the breeze like in some romantic drama. No. This one was limp, stained, and very clearly tied like a noose that someone had... probably used.

Eric stared at it. He swallowed. "Someone died in here..." he muttered, brain spinning. "They’re making me stay in a haunted place!! AHHH this is so scary!"

But outwardly, he puffed up his chest and cleared his throat, trying to look unfazed as he glanced back at the soldiers.

"Nice place," he said with the fakest grin known to mankind.

The soldiers didn’t respond. They pushed him inside and shut the old wooden doors with a loud THUD. The lock clicked.

Eric blinked in the darkness. Dust swirled in the stale air like it was trying to whisper secrets. "H-hey! Be gentle next time, will you? I’m a prince too, you brutes!" he yelled at the door, brushing himself off and looking down at his dirt-smudged hands.

"This is no way to treat foreign royalty! There’s dust all over me! There could be tetanus in here!" he grumbled, stomping over to the door and jiggling the handle.

Locked.

Of course it was locked.

Then he heard voices on the other side.

Two male voices, low and muffled but not that muffled. He leaned in, pressing his ear to the door.

"Did you hear?" one of them said. "They’re going to make this one marry our general as the main wife."

Eric froze. Wait, what?

"What absurdity! Main wife?"

"Yes, main wife. Can you believe it? How could they be so unfair to our general? He’s the reason this kingdom’s even flourishing! He’s conquered land after land, brought order to chaos, and this is how they reward him? With that?"

The first soldier sounded close to losing his mind.

The second one tried to calm him down. "Shhh. Don’t be loud. The general’s too powerful. The royals don’t have much control anymore. This is their way of... cutting him down. Tie him to someone weak. Make sure he’s distracted."

"They’re ruining his life," the first soldier said darkly.

Eric’s jaw dropped. "I’m getting married?" he whispered to himself.

"To... him?" His voice cracked. "To that Ryan guy?!"

For a split second, panic gripped him.

But then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

"Ohhh... so that’s what’s going on, huh?"

He plopped down dramatically on the dusty floor, ignoring the cobweb that brushed his shoulder. His eyes sparkled with sudden inspiration.

"I’ll make him regret ever messing with me. Make his life absolutely miserable. Serves him right for treating me like dirt these past few days!"

He smirked at the ceiling, imagining all sorts of ridiculous revenge scenarios—mysterious kitchen explosions, sabotaged armor straps, ’accidental’ public outbursts at palace events.

And all under the delightful guise of a loyal little spouse.

"Oh Ryan... darling," he whispered sweetly to no one, "You’re in for the worst honeymoon of your life."

The wind chose that moment to whistle through the cracked window, making the white hanging cloth sway eerily.

Eric flinched.

"...I’m still scared though. Seriously, someone definitely died in here."

Eric had just finished sweeping away the tenth cobweb with a dead branch he found on the floor he refused to touch the haunted silk curtain again—it moved on its own when the heavy door creaked open.

Dust flared up in the air like a summoned spirit.

Standing in the doorway, dressed in black armor lined with gold, was the terrifying general himself—Ryan.

Eric froze mid-swat. His eyes narrowed.

Ryan stepped inside without a word, eyes scanning the dim, dusty room like he was already regretting walking in. His expression, as always, was unreadable—stoic to the point of looking bored, like he’d rather be at war stabbing something than in a haunted ex-concubine’s palace.

In his hand was a small canvas bag.

He held it out.

"...Mantou," he said blandly.

Eric stared at the bag. "What...?"

"They’re still warm," Ryan added as if this clarified anything.

Eric reluctantly took the bag, inspecting the plain steamed buns inside.

Ryan didn’t react. Not even a twitch of the brow. "You’ll be staying here until the wedding."

"The what now?"

Ryan’s eyes flicked to him. "The marriage. It will take place in two days at the temple near the imperial palace."

Eric blinked. "You’re serious."

"As always."

Eric scoffed, crossing his arms. "Do you even know what it means to have me as your wife?" His voice dropped, and his lips curled into a dangerously sweet smile. "I could kill you in your sleep."

The air seemed to still.

Of course he wouldn’t actually hurt this man.

Not with that face.

Ryan had the face of his lover—the one from his old world. A face that still haunted Eric’s dreams and made his chest ache in quiet moments when no one was looking. But this version of him? Cold, unreadable, infuriatingly dutiful?

Eric wanted to poke him with a stick until he got a reaction.

Ryan simply looked at him, completely unshaken.

"You can try," he said coolly, "if you can."

And just like that, he turned around, walking back toward the door.

The audacity.

The nerve.

Eric glared at the sealed door, cheeks pink from either anger or dust-induced near-suffocation. Probably both.

He flopped down on the old wooden bed. It creaked. Probably cursed. Everything in here was probably cursed.

He bit into a mantou like it owed him money.

"...Two days," he muttered.

And just like that, the reality began to set in.

He was getting married.

To him.

Eric buried his face in the bag of mantou with a groan.

"I am so going to make your life hell, General Ice Cube."