The wedding finally takes place.
As the guests watch in suspense, Atem walks down the aisle with a smile no one can quite understand. After ten relentless days of preparations orchestrated by Kaiba, the ceremony ends without incident.
That night, both of them lie awake in the same bed, expecting something neither of them is quite ready for. Instead, they find themselves sharing silence, a few quiet words, and a distance that becomes just a little smaller.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 追い込み婚
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
01 Operational Optimization
"Atem, you're getting married!"Seto had broken through every restriction the Underworld had to offer and was now standing right in Atem's face.
He had refused. On the spot. When they dragged him out of the Underworld. When the servants at the Kaiba mansion were dressing him. He had refused three times.
And yet.
"We now present the engagement announcement of Kaiba Corporation president, Kaiba Seto."
Somehow, Atem was standing there.
Blinding flashes fired all at once.
Beside him, Seto didn't move a muscle. He opened his mouth.
"As of today, I am engaged. My partner is present. Questions are welcome."
The announcement was so brief that the room took a full beat to register it, then broke into murmurs.
Atem glanced sideways at Seto. It didn't look like a joke. Then again, this man had never been equipped with the capacity for jokes.
Hands shot up across the room. Seto pointed to the reporter in the front row.
"May we have your partner's name?"
"Atem."
"And your profession?"
"Not disclosed."
"Forgive me — your age?"
"Unknown."
While reporters scrambled to piece together their questions, Seto kept pointing.
"This announcement is quite sudden — might you share how you met?"
"I'm under no obligation to answer that."
Every question got an instant reply. None of them connected.
Weren't questions supposed to be welcome? The room went briefly silent.
The next reporter chose her words carefully.
"Could you say something about what led you to this decision to marry?"
Seto narrowed his eyes, ever so slightly.
"Operational optimization."
The answer bore no relation to the question. The room froze.
"Next."
In the far corner of the press gallery, Yugi nearly dropped his clear file folder.
Yugi had been at Kaiba Corporation that day for a meeting and happened to be inside the building. Coming out of the conference room, he had been swept along by the flow of people and found himself, without quite knowing how, standing at the edge of the president's engagement press conference. He hadn't been invited. And now he couldn't leave.
On the stage, he recognized a profile he knew very well. Knew — that was putting it mildly.
Yugi pressed the folder to his chest and let out a sound.
"No way — Kaiba's engagement… the other person is…"
No one heard him.
Up on the stage, Atem happened to glance his way. Their eyes met. Atem's brow dropped, just slightly.
Seto looked at his watch and stood.
"That's all."
Hands were still raised in every corner of the room, but Seto didn't glance at any of them. With the PR staff rushing to the microphone to say further questions will be addressed at a later date, Seto took hold of Atem's arm.
The hand resting on the chair was lifted. Atem rose to his feet without resistance.
Walking through the staff corridor, Atem was thinking.
This is considerably worse than I calculated.
The decision to show his face had been his own. He'd figured that if he showed up, it would be over. What he hadn't calculated was the scenario where showing up resulted in fiancé being broadcast to the entire country.
This wasn't the kind of constraint the Underworld imposed. No contract, no sacred law — just reported fact, now walking on its own.
Miscalculation. The moment that word surfaced in his mind, he had no choice but to admit how slow he'd been.
Yugi had his phone back in his grip before the two of them even left the stage.
Tristan was watching a breaking news clip on the big screen outside the Turtle Game Shop less than two minutes later.
"What?!"
In the clip from the engagement press conference, the person standing next to Kaiba was — unmistakably — Atem.
Tristan's call came in almost simultaneously.
"Hey. Did you see it."
"Yeah. Watching it right now."
"Where's Yugi."
"No idea, I'll try reaching him."
Before he'd even ended the call, a message from Yugi appeared on his screen.
I'm at Kaiba Corp. Going to the president's office.
Tristan was already running before he'd finished reading it.
When the door to the president's office opened, the first thing anyone felt was the weight of the air.
Seto was at his desk, going through something on a monitor. Atem was sitting on the reception sofa with his arms crossed. No conversation passed between them. No glances, either.
It didn't look like the room of two people who had just gotten engaged.
It looked like a wake.
"Um… Kaiba?"
The first one to speak was Yugi. Joey and Tristan were still standing just inside the door.
Seto didn't look up from his documents.
"I don't recall inviting anyone."
"We weren't invited, but…"
Yugi's voice was unusually flat.
Atem didn't move from the sofa. He only turned his eyes toward the three who had just walked in.
"It's been a while. I didn't expect to see you like this."
His voice was low. Somewhere between tired and angry — impossible to tell.
Joey finally found his voice.
"…Hey, Atem…"
"Yeah?"
"What are you — why are you here?"
Atem thought for a moment, then answered.
"I'm not entirely sure myself."
"Not sure? What do you mean?"
Joey blurted it out. Tristan frowned.
"It's about you, isn't it?"
"It is. And yet, I'm not sure."
Atem's expression was entirely straight. As far as he was concerned, it was an honest answer.
Yugi stood and looked at Atem's face — a face he hadn't seen in so long. He had a hundred things he wanted to ask. What's the Underworld like. How long have you been in the living world. But none of that was what the room was for.
So he started with the facts.
"…You're engaged, right?"
"It would appear so."
"'Would appear' — "
"As a matter of recorded fact, it seems to have taken place. Just now."
Joey put his head in his hands.
"You can't say 'it seems' about your own engagement."
"I refused three times."
"Three times?"
"I refused three times, and I'm still here."
Tristan crossed his arms against the wall and let out a low sound.
"So he forced you."
"Not exactly. I couldn't exactly make a scene in front of innocent staff."
"Kaiba…"
Joey turned to glare at Seto. But Seto didn't look up. He didn't appear to be ignoring them — but he had no apparent intention of responding.
Yugi asked carefully.
"So… how did you two meet?"
"Ask Kaiba."
Atem seemed genuinely unable to explain — as though there was nothing to explain.
All four sets of eyes moved toward the window.
Seto scrolled to the next page of his document.
"I said: operational optimization."
"That doesn't tell us anything!"
At Joey's voice, Seto finally looked up — but didn't move a muscle of his face.
"Marriage proposals come in at an average of thirty-six per week."
The four of them in the room all froze, exactly where they were.
"The secretarial division has a dedicated team assigned solely to processing proposal documents. Those personnel represent resources that should be allocated elsewhere."
Seto continued, his voice flat.
"Templates for rejection correspondence currently operate in seventeen variations, with ongoing discussions to add more. This is not a situation that can be overlooked from a management perspective."
No one spoke.
"The rational solution is to establish married status. Going forward, the relevant documents will be returned unprocessed. The management resources revert to their proper use. That is the full account."
Silence.
"…And for that, you chose the other me, Kaiba?"
"There is no one better suited."
Yugi went speechless.
Joey forced the words out.
"…That's your reason."
"It's rational."
Seto said it as though the explanation was finished, and returned his gaze to the documents.
Atem let out one long breath. Not anger. Not resignation.
Best suited.
That meant Seto had considered other options and chosen him. For some reason, that lodged itself somewhere small and quiet in his chest.
"Moving on to scheduling."
Seto closed the folder and opened a different one.
"The ceremony is next weekend. The venue, guest list, and full proceedings including the ritual elements — everything is arranged. Invitations go out tomorrow."
Atem looked at the calendar.
Next weekend.
Ten days from today.
"…Kaiba."
"What."
"The date is too soon."
"Would you prefer a formal betrothal ceremony? There's no reason to delay."
Seto moved his gaze to the three — Joey, Tristan, Yugi.
"Don't worry. It's Atem's moment. You'll receive your invitations."
At those words, Joey nearly straightened his back on reflex, then caught himself. Tristan pushed off the wall. Yugi processed the statement a beat late.
"Don't use my friends as leverage with a formal invitation."
"Sending a wedding invitation is standard practice."
Seto's expression didn't change.
Standard practice. There was a thin edge in that.
Atem closed his mouth.
He could have said no right here. Could have walked out of this office — physically, nothing was stopping him. He'd already refused three times; refusing a fourth time wasn't out of place.
But.
The staff he had passed in the hallway on the way here.
In the first corridor, two young women had been walking together. When they saw Seto, they stopped almost in unison and bowed deeply. Then one lifted her head, saw Atem standing beside him, and her eyes opened just slightly. One blink, and she bowed again — not with the stiffness of formality. There was none of that.
At the elevator, a middle-aged man had been waiting alone, documents in his arms. The doors opened — but the moment he recognized the two of them, he stepped back and bowed low.
Seto stepped in. Atem followed. Before the doors closed, the man said congratulations. His voice was quiet. It dropped into the hallway and disappeared between the doors.
On one of the floors they passed, several employees had been standing in the corridor — a group returning from a meeting. One noticed them, tugged a colleague's sleeve, and the group parted all at once, heads bowed. A young man among them, head still down, said something. It sounded like congratulations. It came out like a murmur, but it had a shape. It was real.
There was no trace of hollow courtesy in any of it. Those voices were genuine. One honest voice carries more weight than ten ceremonial ones.
If he walked out now and said no — what would those staff members be left watching?
He turned it over, and the answer came back: walking out right now is not an option.
He would have to find a way through.
When he looked up, his eyes met Seto's.
Seto's expression hadn't changed. But somewhere deep in those eyes, there was something — the color of a man trying to see through something.
Seto straightened his documents, eyes still down, and continued in the same even tone.
"Invitations go out tomorrow. Details will be communicated to each of you through my secretary. That's all."
It was too procedural. It didn't feel like the end of an engagement announcement.
Atem stood up from the sofa.
"Kaiba… are you serious."
His voice was low.
"I made an announcement at a press conference."
"I'm asking if you're sane. I'm the king of the Underworld."
Seto looked up.
"I know."
"You know, and this is what you do."
"Your status doesn't affect the rationale of this matter."
Atem breathed in once, and out.
Yugi, Joey, and Tristan had all lost their moment to leave and were still standing just inside the door.
Atem put both hands on the desk and looked down at Seto.
"Then make me fall for you."
Seto's gaze lifted.
"Do that, and I'll go through with it. Whatever you want — marriage, anything."
There was provocation in Atem's voice.
Move something with all that efficiency. It was a mean-spirited demand.
Seto didn't move for a moment.
Then he exhaled, slowly, and stood up.
Three steps to Atem.
Without looking at the three by the door, Seto spoke.
"Get out."
The sound of Yugi catching his breath.
Joey took a step forward.
"H-hey, Kaiba! What are you planning to do to Atem?"
For the first time, Seto's mouth curved slightly at the corner.
"Exactly what he asked for. Make him fall."
And with that, he took Atem's chin in one hand and pressed his lips to Atem's forehead.
Light. But without a single moment's hesitation.
All four people in the room went still.
Atem received the warmth of the touch from somewhere distant, as it lifted and moved away.
Tristan was the first to come back to himself.
"—Then we'll just, uh, stay out of the way!"
Before the words were even out, he had grabbed Joey's collar and Yugi's arm and was pulling them toward the door.
"H-hey, Tristan, wait, what are you—"
"Come on, move!"
Yugi didn't have time to look back.
The door closed.
02 Make Me Fall
The sound of the door closing deepened the stillness in the room.
Seto and Atem were alone.
The warmth on his forehead was already gone, but the sensation of it remained. Atem raised a hand toward that spot — then stopped himself.
"Make you fall for me, you said?"
"You have no objection to those terms."
Atem took his hands off the desk and straightened. The edge that had been in his voice a moment ago was gone.
"You think you can?"
"You think I can't?"
The short exchange had the rhythm of a duel. An unspoken declaration of war had been reached.
That night, in the guest room of the Kaiba mansion, Atem decided to return to the Underworld.
He couldn't stay in the living world much longer. He'd come thinking a quick appearance would be enough. But after nearly a full day's absence, the palace would have long since registered something was wrong.
He was partway through opening the corridor to the Underworld when a voice came from behind him.
"Running away?"
He turned. Seto was standing in the doorway.
Atem looked at him, the entrance to the corridor still open behind him.
"You're the one who started this. …If you have business with me, come yourself."
The provocation was reflex. Running — that was out of the question.
Seto didn't so much as raise an eyebrow. He went to get his coat.
When he came back, he had an attaché case in hand.
When the two of them stepped down in front of the palace of the Underworld, the bell announcing the king's absence was still ringing.
The moment Atem appeared, a visible wave of relief passed through the guards, and heads bowed all at once. Then a priest came running.
"My king, you're safe! Where on earth have you—"
"Forgive me. There were circumstances."
"Circumstances?"
The priest's eyes found Seto, standing beside Atem. In that instant, every trace of expression left the priest's face.
A man from the living world, arrived at the front of the palace through the king's private corridor. This was an incident.
Atem read the priest's paralysis and made his decision.
"I'm returning to my duties. This man is my… guest. Prepare a room for him."
"Y-yes, but—"
"Explanations can wait. Bring me the outstanding matters first, in order of priority."
The priest glanced once at Seto, bowed deeply, and ran off — faster than he had arrived.
When Atem reached the royal study, the papers awaiting his seal were stacked to an unreasonable height on the desk.
This was the result of a single day's absence.
Atem exhaled and sat down. Seto, ignoring the prepared guest room entirely, had settled himself on the couch in the corner of the study and was already pulling a tablet from his attaché case.
"I had a room prepared for you."
"Not interested."
Nothing connected.
Atem gave up and turned to the first document.
Approval for a change in the ritual calendar. A petition from the outer regions. A joint report on procedures for receiving new souls. Water allocation. A review of the supply route for ceremonial oil. Each one small in itself, but the decisions requiring the king's seal were many.
After roughly two hours of concentrated work, Atem looked up.
The couch in the corner was empty.
At that same moment, Seto was knocking on the door of the department responsible for the Underworld's finances.
The young official who answered took one look at the tall figure in living-world clothing and stood in speechless silence for a moment.
"I'm Kaiba Seto."
Everyone knew who the king's guest was. No introduction was necessary. Seto continued as if it were obvious.
"I'm here as the king's fiancé to assess the current state of the Underworld's finances. Bring me whoever is in charge."
The word fiancé landed in the air of an Underworld government office for the very first time.
The young official ran.
After that, Seto made his way through the departments one by one.
In the office overseeing ritual affairs, he asked about the annual event calendar and the logistics of the materials required. In the judicial office, he confirmed the distinction between matters requiring the king's decision and those that did not. In the military office, he asked about the current personnel deployment and security structure.
In every office, Seto introduced himself.
In every office, confusion came first, then explanation followed.
Not a single official managed to maintain their sense of the absurdity of explaining Underworld administration to a man from the living world for longer than the first thirty seconds. Seto's questions were too specific, too precisely aimed.
He asked only what needed to be asked. He made no small talk.
When Seto returned to the royal study, his hands held a bundle of documents gathered from the various departments of the Underworld.
Atem looked up from his work, took in the bundle, then looked at Seto's face.
"…What were you doing."
"Assessing the situation."
Seto sat back down on the couch as if it were the most natural thing in the world and began sorting through the documents.
The afternoon passed in much the same way.
Atem worked through the backlog of official business. Seto continued his rounds of the departments.
They saw each other twice: once in the evening, when Seto returned to the couch in the study, and once at night, when they parted at the entrance to Atem's private chambers.
At that parting, Seto removed Atem's crown and pressed his lips to Atem's forehead.
The same motion as before. The same temperature. The same brevity. Nothing more.
Atem watched Seto's back as he walked away, and stood in the corridor for a while.
That night, Atem couldn't sleep.
He held himself in a state of readiness — half his senses awake, eyes closed, prepared to respond to whatever came.
Seto didn't come.
Near dawn, he finally managed a short sleep.
The second night was the same. The kiss to the forehead, and nothing more. Atem spent that night half-awake again.
On the morning of the third day, sitting at his desk in the study, Atem realized he was running on too little sleep.
He had skipped two lines in the document before him. He had read the same paragraph three times.
This man doesn't normally care about other people's circumstances when he has a goal.
Atem turned the thought over.
Seto had walked away from his work in the living world to come to the Underworld. If this were the usual Seto, he would have already pushed his way into Atem's study and pulled everything onto his own terms. Establishing facts on the ground first — that was also well within his range. That was who Seto was.
The wild, straight-ahead charge when he had pushed for the marriage — that was Seto's default.
Not now.
He didn't interfere with official duties. He didn't come to the private chambers. He left only the kiss on the forehead, placed with complete matter-of-factness.
It would be a lie to say Atem wasn't curious about what he was planning.
Atem rubbed his tired eyes and set down his pen.
Being curious was already losing ground, a little. That much he felt.
That evening, Atem was watching Seto on the couch going through documents.
The faint scent of lamp oil drifted through the room.
"Kaiba."
Seto looked up from the papers.
"What."
"What are you thinking about."
Seto stopped turning the page.
He looked up. Looked at Atem.
The lamp's light settled in his eyes.
"You."
No irony. No teasing. No trace of strategy.
Atem forgot to blink.
At parting, Seto pressed his lips to Atem's forehead as always.
Atem opened his mouth.
"That's a gentle touch, for you."
The words were half taunt, half something else.
Seto paused. He turned only his gaze back over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly.
"Did you want something rougher?"
He didn't wait for an answer. The door closed.
Atem leaned both elbows on the desk and covered his eyes with one hand.
Under that hand, he noticed that his cheek was holding a little warmth.
He decided not to notice.
The next day, the stack of papers on the desk in the study was visibly lower.
Reports had been condensed to key points only. Audiences had been reorganized. Joint reports from the priesthood now led with the conclusion on the first page.
Approvals took half the usual time.
By late afternoon, while the light was still high, Atem pressed his seal to the last document. He looked up to find Seto had finished with his documents on the couch and was watching him.
He had tea brought. Fine leaves from the king's private supply were set between them, steaming.
Atem took one sip and let out a breath.
"It's been a long time since I had a moment like this. …Though I could do without you in the room."
Seto tilted his cup without changing expression.
"Be glad. This state will be maintained, at minimum."
Atem brought the cup to his lips and stopped. He looked at Seto with a slight frown.
Something snagged.
He finished the tea and stood.
They left the study and walked the corridor side by side.
Atem spoke as they walked.
"The reports came in condensed today."
"I made the change."
"The audience schedule was reorganized, too."
"Inefficient as it was."
Atem glanced sideways.
"The joint reports from the priesthood — that was you as well?"
"The conclusion was buried on the third page. It needed to be first."
Atem looked forward again.
The thing that had snagged earlier was becoming clearer.
Be glad. This state will be maintained.
That wasn't a prediction. It was a commitment.
The changes Seto had made weren't temporary adjustments for the duration of his stay. They were structural. Built to hold.
Rounding a corner, two priests came toward them carrying books. They bowed deeply to Atem, then turned and bowed to Seto as well.
"Kaiba-dono."
The elder of the two addressed Seto directly.
"We implemented the new format for the joint reports today. The scribes have been expressing gratitude — approvals have become faster, and their workload has decreased."
"Putting the conclusion first was all it required."
"It had been the custom for so long that no one ever thought to question it."
The priests bowed once more and went on their way.
Atem didn't stop walking.
But his pace slowed, just slightly.
After a few steps, he spoke.
"You…"
"What."
"When you were going through the departments — you went ahead and restructured things on your own."
"Be glad."
Seto nodded, making no attempt to conceal it.
"You said you were assessing the situation."
"I assessed it, and improved what could be improved. I got the departments' agreement."
"Agreement…"
Atem kept his eyes forward and narrowed them.
He could imagine what the Underworld officials had made of it — being asked to explain their operations to a man from the living world, finding inefficiencies pointed out in the middle of explaining them, and the accuracy of those observations making them nod before they'd thought it through. The moment they nodded, the improvements were already in motion.
*This state will be maintained, at minimum.*
Now Atem understood.
Seto had structurally reduced the time Atem spent on official duties. By reforming the Underworld's organization, he had cut into the hours of the king's work itself.
"Kaiba."
"What."
"Are you planning to keep coming here?"
Seto didn't answer immediately. He kept walking.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"
The question came back instead of an answer. Atem accepted it as one.
They reached the entrance to the private chambers.
Before Atem put his hand to the door, he turned back.
"Kaiba."
"What."
"You think you can win me over with something like this?"
He tried to keep the provocation in his voice.
Seto closed the distance by one step.
Close. Close enough that Atem would have had to look up to meet his eyes.
"I secured the time for it."
His voice was quiet.
Atem felt the grip of his hand on the door handle go slack.
Something stirred again, deep in his chest. This time it was too large to ignore.
Seto leaned down slowly.
The crown was removed, as always. Lips to the forehead.
They lifted.
The moment he thought they had lifted, Seto's arm came around his back and drew him in.
He was pulled close. Seto's warmth passed through to him.
Still held there, Seto's lips fell again.
This time, to his cheek.
Atem held his breath.
While he held it, Seto's arm loosened. He straightened. He walked away down the corridor.
Atem stood alone in front of the door.
The warmth on his cheek lasted far longer than the one on his forehead.
The feeling of the arm at his back lasted longer still.
In the morning, Atem walked toward the study.
He was thinking as he walked.
Tonight, would the parting kiss stop at his cheek — or would it go one step further? If it went from forehead to cheek and then beyond, what expression was he supposed to have? Should he return a provocation, or would it be better to say nothing?
He was aware, in the middle of turning all this over, that he was already halfway into Seto's hands.
Even so, his thoughts wouldn't stop.
He had barely slept again. Each time he closed his eyes, the warmth of the forehead and the cheek came back. The harder he tried to push it out, the sharper it became.
The morning light after a sleepless night was brighter than usual.
He opened the door to the study.
The couch was empty. Not here yet, he thought.
But the papers awaiting his seal were already stacked in a neat pile on the desk. The day's work had already been prepared.
Atem sat down and reached for the first document.
Several hours passed. The couch remained empty.
Just before midday, a priest arrived with the regular reports.
Without looking up from his documents, Atem asked.
"Is Kaiba off visiting another department?"
The priest tilted his head slightly.
"Kaiba-dono departed early this morning. He said he was returning for a time."
Atem's pen went still.
"…Returning?"
"He mentioned there were matters requiring his attention in the living world. We understand he intends to come back later."
The priest conveyed that much, bowed deeply, and left.
Atem stared at the documents for a while.
He took his pen back up, started to write the next line — and stopped.
He could have said something before he left.
That was the first thing that came to mind.
The second was a correction: that's not something I should be saying.
The third was a question: why am I going so far as to correct myself?
He brought his eyes back to the documents.
Wrote one line.
His concentration returned.
But throughout the afternoon, his gaze drifted to the couch more than once. Each time, he pulled it back himself. The moment he registered having pulled it back, it drifted again.
He repeated this until evening.
In the late afternoon, he pressed his seal to the last document.
The streamlined workload had, in fact, ended quickly.
He didn't call for tea.
There was no reason today to prepare two cups.
Atem looked out the study window. The Underworld's evening light was painting the palace walls red.
On any other evening, this was when Seto would rise from the couch and the walk down the corridor would begin.
Atem walked the corridor alone.
He stopped in front of the door to his private chambers.
For just a moment, before he put his hand to the door, he checked whether he would turn around.
He didn't.
He opened the door, went in, and closed it.
A day in which nothing had touched his forehead or his cheek came to an end.
03 Compensation
Kaiba Corporation headquarters, living world. The president's office.
Seto arrived at his usual hour.
Whether it was the morning after the engagement press conference or the morning after a trip to the Underworld, Seto's arrival time never changed.
The schedule his secretary had prepared showed a return to ordinary business. The flood of inquiries following the press conference had been absorbed by the PR department, the incoming marriage proposals had been put on hold, and as anticipated, the workload had grown measurably quieter.
The door opened without a knock.
"Nii-sama."
Mokuba walked in, tablet in hand. On the screen, a still frame from the engagement press conference footage was frozen in place.
Seto didn't look up from his documents.
"What."
"Don't 'what' me."
Mokuba stepped up to the desk and held up the tablet.
"What is this? When did this happen?"
"Exactly as shown at the press conference."
"I know, I watched it."
"Then there's nothing further to explain."
Mokuba looked at his brother for a moment.
Under normal circumstances, he would have pushed harder. But he closed his mouth and opened it again.
"It's Atem, isn't it."
"Yes."
"And you actually thought it through."
For the first time, Seto looked up.
"Do you think I make decisions without thinking?"
Mokuba exhaled. It was a short breath — less like acceptance, more like a decision to stand down.
Mokuba knew. Between his brother and Atem, there was a space that he and anyone else couldn't enter. He couldn't have said what it was made of. But he knew it was there.
Pressing further now would only produce a restatement of *exactly as shown at the press conference.* He knew that too.
"…Okay."
Mokuba lowered the tablet.
"Make sure I get an invitation."
"The invitation has already been sent."
Mokuba nodded and left the president's office.
When the sound of the door closing reached him, Seto pressed the intercom to his secretary's desk.
"Get me Mutou Yugi."
"Mutou-sama, yes. He's currently with the software development division. I'll confirm his availability and—"
"Send him to the president's office."
He cut the line.
Yugi knocked on the president's office door shortly after.
When the door opened, his expression was still uncertain — carrying the image of the press conference he had witnessed from the corner of the room, and the wake-like atmosphere of the two of them sitting in this same office.
"Kaiba…?"
"Come with me."
Seto was already on his feet with his coat in hand.
"Wh — wait, where are we—"
"I'm getting involved in your game development."
Seto moved past Yugi toward the door and continued.
"Your current project — there's inefficiency in the spec alignment process. If I look at it directly, we can cut that time. Come."
Yugi hurried after Seto's back as he left the office.
"W-well, that's — that's appreciated, but why now, all of a sudden—"
"The car is ready."
In the parking garage, Seto opened the rear door of a black car and waved Yugi in first. He climbed in after him and closed the door.
As the car pulled out, Yugi looked out the window.
The route looked familiar. But the destination was unclear.
"…Kaiba, where exactly are we going?"
"A fitting."
"…What?"
"A fitting for the ceremony. Your build is the closest to Atem's. You're coming as a stand-in."
Yugi stared at Seto's profile, mouth half open.
Seto faced forward and didn't change his expression.
The atelier was staffed by an experienced tailor and several assistants.
Over the course of that afternoon, Yugi was dressed in one formal outfit after another — turned this way and that, his sleeve length measured, his collar angle adjusted. In the mirror, the outline of someone familiar but not quite him — someone close to his height — gradually took shape.
Seto sat in a chair, exchanging brief words with the tailor. The height of the collar, whether the cuffs should be embroidered, the width of the sash, the shoes. His decisions came quickly and without hesitation.
After several hours, Seto stood.
"That's enough. You're done."
The tailors bowed deeply and filed out.
An assistant removed the last garment from Yugi. He was back in his own clothes.
Every part of him was exhausted.
In the waiting room, drinking water, Yugi finally asked what he'd wanted to ask.
"Kaiba."
"What."
"This is really all for Atem, right?"
Seto's hands, which had been reviewing the fitting records, went still.
"What else would it be for."
The answer was brief.
Yugi turned it over for a while.
The words themselves were an affirmation. He was admitting it was for Atem. But the affirmation carried no warmth at all. There was no other word for it but matter-of-fact.
At the press conference: *operational optimization.* In the president's office: *rational solution.* Here: *what else would it be for.*
All the same temperature.
There was something between the two of them that no one else could enter.
Yugi knew that too.
And this man was surrounding himself, right now, with nothing but words like these.
Maybe, genuinely, he had chosen Atem as nothing more than a business matter. Maybe *operational optimization* was exactly what it sounded like.
Yugi couldn't entirely rule it out.
"…I see. Okay."
He finished his water.
Seto said nothing more.
The following day, Seto returned to the Underworld as planned.
At the sound of the study door opening, Atem looked up from his documents.
The couch had been empty all this time. He remembered that only in the moment it was no longer empty.
Atem pushed the awareness of the empty couch down, immediately.
"You're back."
His voice came out at its usual pitch.
"Yes."
Seto was carrying a tablet. He set it on the table in front of the couch and brought up the screen.
"Look at this."
On the screen were ceremonial garments, lined up one after another.
Traditional Underworld royal dress combined with the structure of living-world formal wear — variations in color, decoration, collar shape. Photographs taken at the fitting stage, arranged in a grid.
There were many of them. In every single one, it was Yugi wearing the clothes.
Atem stopped scrolling.
"…Kaiba."
"What."
"What is this."
"Ceremonial dress."
"I'm asking about my other self."
"Closest build to yours. He was a stand-in."
Atem looked up from the screen.
"You made him do this?"
His voice was low.
Seto's expression didn't change.
"I offered compensation."
"Compensation?"
"Direct involvement in his game development with Kaiba Corporation. His current project had inefficiencies in the spec alignment. I can cut that time. That, in exchange for the fitting stand-in. An even trade."
"And he agreed?"
"He's wearing the clothes, isn't he."
Atem let out a long breath.
He knew Yugi's character.
Seto's offer was a genuine benefit to Yugi, but whether Yugi had nodded along without hesitation was another matter.
He knew that. His other self had served as a stand-in in his place. And separate from that — something else remained, unresolved.
"My other self…"
"Think of him as a mannequin."
As expected. Even if he tried to explain this feeling to Seto, Seto would counter it as rational processing.
"…You didn't treat him badly. That much is clear."
"I didn't."
"All right."
Atem returned his gaze to the tablet.
In every photograph, Yugi was standing in each formal garment with the same earnest expression.
Then Atem noticed something else.
"You said you had these made."
"Yes."
"The size — Atem and my other self are different people, even if we look alike."
Atem looked up from the screen at Seto.
"I confirmed it beforehand."
Seto answered briefly.
Atem blinked.
*Beforehand. Confirmed.*
He worked backward through what that implied in a matter of seconds.
The moments Seto had touched him since arriving in the Underworld were limited. The kiss to the forehead. The kiss to the cheek. And between them, the arm that had come around his back.
That embrace.
In that moment — where Seto's arm had reached, how far around his back, what length of it.
Atem found himself remembering it.
The sensation of being drawn close. The warmth that passed through. The faint remaining pressure as the arm loosened. The lips that fell to his forehead, lifted, then fell again to his cheek.
That had been processed as *confirming measurements.* The evidence was lined up on the tablet, leaving no other conclusion.
"…Kaiba…"
Atem got the pitch wrong. He had aimed low and didn't quite get there.
Seto didn't miss the sound.
He looked up from the tablet and met Atem's eyes.
He said nothing.
But the corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly.
Not a victor's smile. Something finer than that — a quiet, certain *so you've noticed.*
Atem returned his gaze to the tablet.
He pointed to the one at the top of the screen.
"This one."
He hadn't really looked at it.
Seto nodded. That's fine.
The following evening, Seto was back on the couch.
This time, instead of a tablet, a long rectangular wooden box sat beside him. Lacquered, undecorated.
Atem was pressing his seal to documents, the box visible at the edge of his vision.
When the last document was done, he finally spoke.
"What is that."
"Rings."
Seto stood, box in hand, and walked to the desk.
He set it down.
"You need a ring. It needs to be decided before the ceremony."
Atem set down his pen.
"You're asking my opinion."
"Yes."
"That's unexpected."
The faint edge of a taunt was still in his voice.
"The dress, the guest list, the ceremony itself — you decided all of it on your own. I'd have thought you'd decide the ring the same way."
Seto put his hand on the clasp of the box, then stopped. He looked at Atem.
"Your jewelry is not merely decoration, is it."
It wasn't a question. Atem forgot to blink.
The decorations of the Underworld's king were form before they were ornament — they were contract. Earrings, necklaces, rings. Each carried meaning the moment it was worn.
Not chosen for personal taste, but selected for what it meant for a king to wear them as a king.
There was no reason a man from the living world should have understood that.
And yet the man in front of him had landed on it in a single sentence.
Seto opened the clasp.
Inside the box, on black velvet lining, rings were arranged in rows.
There were many.
The front row held pieces stripped of all decoration — plain and elemental. A single platinum band. A thin gold strip. A matte black metal. The most refined living-world simplicity.
Behind them, lighter and more casual options. A small set stone. Fine surface engraving. Two materials woven together.
In the back row, a distinct tier above the rest.
Pieces that would hold their own against the Underworld king's regalia — immediately, obviously. Heavy settings, deep-colored stones, shapes designed to carry meaning on a king's hand. Stones of many colors. Each with the force of a declaration.
The selection of stones, the design of each form — there was no hesitation anywhere in it.
Atem looked at the box for a while without moving.
Without moving was more accurate than *didn't move.*
Both worlds' ring traditions, both cultures of adornment — understood, held in balance, and translated into a set of choices that leaned toward neither.
All of it, assembled here.
"…Kaiba."
"Yes."
"When did you prepare this."
"The day before yesterday. When I returned to the living world."
Atem looked up.
That day had been full — business, the fitting, travel. There should have been no space in it.
And yet this had been put together in the gaps.
"…Which one are you expecting me to choose."
Atem's voice was low. Low, but not quite reaching the lowness he aimed for. The same as the voice he'd heard from himself that day in the study.
Seto didn't answer.
He didn't point to the back row, the center piece — the highest tier.
He only left the lid open.
Every option laid out in front of Atem, equally.
"You choose."
His voice was quiet.
Atem looked through the rings slowly.
The longer he looked, the more clearly he could see that each stone, each form, had been selected for him specifically.
Something sounded again, deep in his chest.
This time it was the loudest it had been.
Atem kept his eyes down and opened his mouth.
"…Kaiba."
"Yes."
"You…"
He swallowed the words.
"I need to think. Give me a little time."
"Take it. I'll have adjustments made immediately."
Seto left the box on the desk and returned to the couch.
He didn't press.
04 The Ring and What It Covers
That night, Atem returned to his private chambers, closed the door, and exhaled slowly.
He changed into his sleeping clothes and sat on the edge of the bed.
It was still too early to sleep.
When he closed his eyes, he could see the box on the desk, still open. He thought briefly that it might have been better to have it closed before he left. But he was the one who had asked for it to be left open. He was the one who had said he would think about it.
He was thinking about the rings. But while he thought about them, he was thinking about something else.
Tomorrow, Seto would come again. When he came, where would Atem be standing?
Think about the rings, he told himself. He said it clearly, internally. And his thoughts returned to the same place.
The next day, Atem worked through documents at his desk in the study, with part of his attention on the sound of the door.
The work was moving steadily. His hand didn't stop. But each time the door opened, his eyes went to it for just a moment.
A priest's visit. A letter received. An attendant with tea.
Not Seto.
Each time, Atem brought his gaze back to the documents. And while he did, he waited for the next sound of the door. There was no moment in which he acknowledged he was waiting. But the pen moving across the page slowed by one beat each time he did.
In the late afternoon, the door opened, and Seto came in.
The usual hour. The usual pace.
Atem kept his eyes on the document, pressed his seal to the line he had just finished, and then — for the first time — looked up.
The way he looked up was not entirely natural, and he knew it. Not too fast, not too slow — the result of having calculated it more than once.
Seto sat on the couch and opened his documents as always.
The usual evening hours passed between them.
Tea was brought. They drank it together.
Atem let the warmth of the cup stay in his hands a little longer than usual.
They left the study and walked the corridor side by side.
Atem didn't speak as they walked.
On any other evening he would have put in a word — something with an edge of teasing or provocation. Tonight he didn't.
He walked in silence, matching Seto's pace.
Seto said nothing either.
They arrived at the entrance to the king's private chambers.
Before Atem put his hand to the door, he turned around.
His body moved as if turning were simply the natural next thing to do. Their eyes met.
Seto was standing at his usual distance.
Tonight, Atem took half a step toward him.
He noticed he had done it after he'd already done it. He didn't step back.
Seto's eyes narrowed slightly.
The same look again — the one that said: I see you've noticed.
Seto leaned down.
The crown was removed, as always. Lips to the forehead.
Then they lifted.
Seto's arm came around to Atem's back.
Tonight, Atem's body moved with it. He didn't resist.
Seto's lips came to his cheek.
They stayed a moment longer than usual — only slightly, but it was there.
When they lifted, Atem didn't hold his breath.
He only lowered his eyes.
Seto's arm loosened. He straightened.
On any other night, he would have turned and left at this point. Tonight, he paused first, and looked at Atem as if to confirm something.
Atem, eyes still lowered, opened his mouth.
"…Come tomorrow. I'll have decided."
His voice was low.
Low, but the quality of its lowness was different from before.
Not a provocation. Not a refusal.
Seto was quiet for a moment, listening to that quality.
"Understood."
Only that, and he walked away down the corridor.
Atem went inside and closed the door. He leaned his back against it.
He stayed that way for a while.
The ring is for contingency, he told himself, as an excuse.
The outline of Seto's warmth — on his cheek, his back, his forehead — was still present.
Tonight, he didn't try to make it go away.
The following evening, Seto arrived at the study at his usual hour.
On the table in front of the couch, the box from the day before sat exactly where it had been left. The lid was closed.
Atem pressed his seal to the last document and set down his pen.
He drew the box toward him and opened it himself.
He looked at the rings again.
During the time he had spent thinking alone the night before, the choice had already been made. He had turned the reason for it over in his mind more than once. He had a version of the answer he could live with.
From the back row — the most formal tier — he selected one and pointed to it.
A heavy setting with a deep-colored stone.
"This one."
Seto leaned over and confirmed where Atem's finger was pointing.
He nodded.
"Understood. I'll have it adjusted."
That should have been the end of the exchange.
The usual Seto would have ended it there.
Atem put his hand on the lid of the box.
He stopped.
If he closed it now and said nothing, the night would end quietly. And tomorrow and after the ceremony and all the evenings that followed would repeat the same pattern. And he would never have to put into words whatever it was he was holding in his hands.
But.
Atem lowered his hand from the lid without closing it.
He didn't look up.
Eyes on the rings in the box, he opened his mouth.
"Kaiba."
"Yes."
"If you were here…"
One beat.
"…the Underworld would be better for it."
Seto didn't move from the couch, but the angle of his gaze shifted slightly — Atem caught it at the edge of his lowered vision.
"The structural improvements, the efficiency in operations, the coordination between departments. Every place you went has measurably improved. I heard it from the staff. Not one or two of them."
Atem continued, eyes still on the rings.
"This country's administration has long depended too heavily on the king's capacity to make decisions alone. You took that apart."
The words came out smoothly.
He had prepared them the day before.
Here, for the first time, Atem looked up and met Seto's eyes.
"Entering into a marriage with you would be, in no small measure, to the Underworld's benefit."
His voice was steady.
Seto was still for a moment, watching Atem's face. His gaze moved across it, searching — and yet it was clear he already had the answer. He had it before Atem had finished.
Even so, Atem had decided to say it to the end.
To say everything he could say, so as not to say the part he couldn't.
"So I'll go through with it. On the day of the ceremony, I won't run. I'll wear the ring. A marriage with you will be, to the Underworld's benefit — and I am, genuinely, glad of it."
The word glad came out of his mouth.
The moment it did, Atem measured how transparent the word he had chosen was.
He measured it, and found there was no cloth left to cover it with.
Seto still hadn't moved.
Then, slowly, he rose from the couch.
Two steps to the desk.
The same distance as the day before.
Seto leaned down slightly, bringing himself level with Atem's eyes.
Close. At that distance, he opened his mouth.
"Understood."
Brief — but what it was not saying was plainly there inside that brevity.
Atem looked at Seto's eyes.
Seto was looking back at Atem's.
The gaze held longer than usual.
And in that length of time, Atem understood: Seto could see through all of it.
Which meant Seto, too, had received everything Atem was covering over — while keeping his own cover intact.
Which meant that in choosing to cover something over, Seto was also carrying something that needed covering.
He was carrying it. That much was now clear.
Atem allowed himself, quietly, to use that word at last.
He had been carrying it from the beginning.
From the moment Seto had said operational optimization at the press conference, to the moment he had opened the full box of rings and said you choose — all of it had been covered over. Now Atem could see it.
The moment he saw it, he couldn't stop the faintest softening at the corner of his mouth.
The corner of Seto's mouth softened by the same amount.
Neither of them let it go further.
An understanding passed between them in the exchange of that look: we are not putting this into words.
They knew it, and said nothing.
Seto straightened.
"I'll have it adjusted."
Back to his usual even voice.
"Right."
Atem's voice returned to its usual register too.
The box was closed carefully. The sound of it settled quietly into the room.
Once the box was put away, Seto would return to the living world. The day of the ceremony was almost here.
The ceremony venue. Living world.
From the second-floor balcony, Joey, Tristan, and Yugi looked down at the passage below.
Guests were taking their seats one after another — senior Kaiba Corporation executives, international business partners, figures from the world of politics and finance. The atmosphere was one of people arriving to witness the conclusion of the engagement that had shaken the news cycle, each carrying a small private tension.
Joey let out what must have been his fourth or fifth sigh.
"…Are they actually going through with this."
Tristan crossed his arms.
"With Atem, you never know until the end."
Yugi didn't answer. He was running his thumb over the program in his hands without noticing.
The face he had seen in the president's office. The mirror he had been stood in front of at the fitting. They still hadn't fully connected. He would feel better once they did.
"I'm needed somewhere — I'll be right back."
Yugi left the two of them and headed toward the waiting room. Whether Atem was there, he didn't know.
The hour came.
The hall went still.
The doors opened.
Escorted by Yugi, Atem entered.
The ceremonial dress — a reconciliation of the living world and the Underworld — had become, on its wearer, something more complete than it had been in any of the fittings. The height of the collar, the fall of the sleeves, the width of the sash, the angle at the hip — everything fit without a single misalignment, against Atem's frame and the way a king stands.
Walking beside him, Yugi stole a glance at Atem's profile.
At the corner of Atem's mouth, there was the faintest softening.
Not anger, not resignation, not bracing for something.
If anything, it was closer to being amused.
Up on the balcony, Joey jabbed Tristan in the side with his elbow.
"…Hey, Tristan. Look at his face."
"I'm looking."
"Is he — did he fall for him?"
It came out as a whisper. They looked at each other.
When Yugi finished the escort and returned to his seat, Joey leaned in immediately.
"Yugi, you were right next to him. Well?"
Yugi sat down and thought for a moment.
"I'm not entirely sure, but…"
He looked at Atem on the stage once more.
Took in the way he stood beside Seto.
"He looks like he's enjoying himself."
Yugi's voice was quiet.
Joey's mouth hung half open as he looked at Tristan.
Tristan laughed.
"…Well. If that's how he feels, that's all that matters."
"Yeah."
Nothing more was said.
The ceremony proceeded without incident.
The vows. The exchange of rings. All of it. No delay, no interruption. The ceremony ended.
When Atem walked back out, the softening at the corner of his mouth had increased, by the smallest amount, from when he had walked in.
That night. The Kaiba mansion.
The ceiling of the bedroom was high. The bed was wide.
Atem had changed into his sleeping clothes and was lying on his side of the bed. Beside him, Seto was lying down as well.
Today was the day of the ceremony. Which made this the wedding night.
Atem lay with his eyes open, looking at the ceiling.
He concluded that he should probably, this time, prepare himself properly. But what exactly to prepare, he had no specific idea. All he could do was try to settle certain senses in advance, so that whatever came wouldn't throw him too far off.
Time passed.
Seto, beside him, didn't move.
Didn't move — and appeared to be on the verge of turning out the light.
Atem looked sideways.
Seto was entirely ordinary. Arranging the bedding, adjusting the position of his pillow.
No sign of anything approaching.
Atem shifted his grip on the edge of the covers and opened his mouth.
"Kaiba."
"What."
"I was fairly certain tonight would be the night you finally made a move."
Seto stopped reaching for the light.
He turned his face toward Atem.
"Do you want me to?"
Atem couldn't answer immediately.
That, he found faintly irritating, in a way that was entirely his own problem.
After several beats, he assembled his voice carefully.
"No."
"…Is that so."
"I'm tired. And being — handled, here, right now — would be a considerable problem."
"Considerable."
The word choice had not been accidental.
The moment Seto heard it, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly — visible even in the dark.
Seto let it go, and turned out the light.
"Then go to sleep."
Said it like a murmur, and closed his eyes.
Atem didn't close his.
He looked at the dark ceiling for a while.
He was thinking.
He went back over what Seto had set in motion during these ten days, in order.
The restructuring of the Underworld's organization. The hours of official work reclaimed. The ceremonial dress. The rings. The ceremony itself. All of it, Seto had carried through on a schedule that was, by any measure, unreasonable.
You're something else, you know that.
Atem said it inwardly, and looked at the space beside him.
Seto's breathing had already deepened.
Atem watched it for a while.
Then, in the bed, he moved — just slightly — toward Seto.
Closer was the more accurate word.
Half a body's worth of space remained between them.
He closed his eyes.
"You're something else."
This time, he said it aloud.
Quietly enough not to wake someone who was sleeping.
Seto's breathing changed by one beat.
He had been awake.
But neither of them said anything.
In the dark, the only thing that moved was the slow settling of two people's breathing into the same rhythm.
