The clan’s nightly rites were always the domain of the men. Laerte had no way of knowing what was done or how it resulted in children being born. In preparation for marriage and coming-of-age ceremonies, only those with penises were gathered in secret to be taught.

The only instruction given to the women was to simply remain still and let the men do as they wished.

If any of the elders had known that, after learning his part, Vito had swelled with pride and told Laerte, ‘I’ll pluck down a star for you’, he would have been soundly cuffed and endlessly scolded.

But now, held in Egon’s arms with his warm breath against her brow, Laerte did not know what to do.

Gooseflesh rose along her skin where it touched his, the fine hairs bristling upright.

“……”

Although she could feel his warmth, she suddenly realized that her revulsion had overwhelmed her to the extent that she had forgotten their bare flesh was pressed together.

It was a dilemma. She could not bring herself to embrace him again, yet if she pulled away, there was nothing in the cave to sit on except the man’s lap and the rough stone.

Thus, Laerte found herself perched atop Egon’s thigh, unable to move forward or back, and feeling trapped.

Ultimately, however, she found her own confusion pitiful.

“I know it has to be done.”

It was the life she had been born for.

Laerte had no intention of shirking the duty her ancestors had performed to ensure the survival of the clan. However, her mind was clouded by too many thoughts.

“But…”

“But?”

“The change of partners. It feels strange.”

Clutching the fabric of her gown tightly to her chest, Laerte stumbled over her words.

‘Yes. Something about this is wrong.’

Because of the hunt, everything had fallen into chaos. Perhaps, amidst the disorder, there was a chance to reconsider what had happened. Or perhaps she only wished to believe that.

“I want to return to the village and speak with the Elder.”

Then perhaps something could be resolved. Maybe she could be reunited with Vito, who had never appeared at the ceremony. Or, if not, she might at least have the time to ready herself to accept Egon before her.

“What would you speak of?”

“That is…”

“That you desire another man?”

Surely he could sense her hesitation. His voice dropped as he swiftly caught her true heart, the inclination to reject him. Laerte felt a chill down her spine.

“If not tonight, it will be difficult to conceive.”

“…That may be true, but…”

Fear overtook her. Every part of this moment felt insurmountable. Even in the briefest instant, she struggled to weigh and soothe her own feelings.

‘We are outside the barrier now.’

She had heard countless times the elders’ words—that life within Henant’s protection, without threat, was a blessing beyond measure. Yet she had never felt it until now.

“That may be true, but?”

His voice repeated her words in an even lower tone, as though displeased by her reluctance.

At that moment, she found the man beside her threatening, and his presence stirred her aversion. Yet the thought of being left alone after such an assault made her feel that she would be even more afraid.

‘The attack.’

The instant she recalled the blood-soaked scene, she could almost feel the metallic tang stinging her nose again. All her senses and thoughts turned towards fear.

Vito should have been her husband.

Yet at Egon’s words—“Do you desire another man?”—she instinctively shook her head, fearing he might leave her on the spot.

“N-no, never.”

“If not, then there is no reason to stop.”

However, Egon had no intention of humoring a nervous bride on her first night. No sooner had he spoken than he seized her with stern, unyielding force.

“Wait, please—”

The hand that had been caressing her neck pulled her in as though he were going to snatch her. The careful kiss he had placed on her forehead earlier seemed insignificant now, as his tongue pressed into her mouth without hesitation.

Their tongues slid and tangled, slick, until warm saliva pooled and spilled from the base of her tongue.

“Mmgh…”

Her mind went blank. As his tongue stirred her mouth, he drew forth the faint moisture rising from her own source. It was just lips meeting, yet her head spun.

Amidst the confusion, a memory surfaced with piercing clarity.

‘Ah…’

She had shared her first kiss with Vito.

It was on a day when radiant sunlight poured down. She had bent to draw water from the spring, and when her long hair slipped forward over her shoulder, Vito fussed and swept the damp ends back behind her.

“So careless. Your hair is wet.”
“It’ll dry soon enough. What about it?”

She had answered lightly, but then an awkward silence fell. Lifting the now-filled jar, she raised her head, only to find Vito’s hand hovering above the shoulder where he had just brushed her hair back.

“Vito?”

Meeting his gaze as he stared fixedly at her, Laerte suddenly felt awkward. The mischievous boy seemed a stranger, someone different altogether. His eyes—the brown that had always sparkled—looked strangely dim.

“May I kiss you?”

And before she could say a word, Vito had pressed a very careful kiss to her lips.

That brief touch, and then parting—it had been light and soft, like the down that brushed her lips when she bit into fresh cotton.

That was all, yet Laerte had always believed, ‘I’ve had my first kiss.’

“Mmph—ugh…”

Egon’s invasion destroyed that sunlit memory. He clamped his arms around her tightly and plundered her lips with his tongue.

If what she had shared with Vito had been a first kiss — sweet and lovely — then what was this? Was it even right to call it a kiss? Yes, their lips were pressed together, but his thick tongue forced its way in, prying open her clenched teeth as though they were the last fortress and ensnaring her own tongue like prey.

“Hhh…”

A frail moan escaped her as she gasped for breath.

This was no later kiss—there was nothing pure, nothing tender in the act of intrusion. Overwhelmed, Laerte did not know how to endure it.

Plink.

A tear slid from the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek with the trembling of her breathless sobs.

When Egon finally drew back, the place where he had clung so hotly turned cold.

The man who had kept his lips locked to hers now brushed her damp face with his palm. His eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“Are you crying?”

“N-no.”

The words burst out without thought. She was too shaken, too lost, and they slipped out on their own.

“If you hate it so much…”

His brows knit, twisting slightly.

“Then better to close your eyes.”

Egon covered her eyelids with his hand.

At her ear, his whisper came low.

“Think of him instead.”

“What nonsense—ugh.”

Laerte tried to protest, but he was already tugging her garments down.

Thud.

Her full br*asts spilled free, released into the air from their confines.

“N-no, don’t.”

When Laerte raised her arms to cover herself, Egon moved.

Sssk.

His hair brushed against her nape, and an unfamiliar breath spilled across her bare chest.

“Ugh…”

She shivered, hunching her shoulders.

“Ha… nn…”

Sluurp. Slurp.

The wet sound of soft flesh being sucked echoed in the cave. Trembling, Laerte yielded her br*asts to the man who took them without restraint.

“Think of him instead.”

The words Egon had spoken just before reverberated in her mind.

‘Think of Vito? Vito would never do something like this.’

Her first thought was rejection—it was absurd.

At the same time, as he kneaded and sucked at her soft flesh, his tongue slid across her n*pple.

“Mm…”

Laerte squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Even if she imagined Vito, she could not accept this. Yet neither could she bring herself to open her eyes and see the man feasting upon her br*ast.

‘Why would Egon say such a thing?’

Did he want to punish her, mocking her for guarding herself, for thinking of another rather than focusing on him?

He had not accused her, had not scolded her—he had only said she must not shirk her duty. And yet Laerte felt as if she had been chastised, shrunk small beneath his presence.

She could neither accept him nor respond with false compliance by pretending he was Vito.

“Wait, Egon. Please, wait…”

Laerte pleaded through her sobs, but Egon did not so much as flinch. He only went on kneading her br*asts with steady persistence.

A chill ran down her spine.

Was this how everyone spent the night, in the name of duty? For the sake of the clan’s survival?

It struck her anew that not all had been joined to those they loved.

At that moment, when her resolve weakened, her skirt was instantly pushed up and his hand slipped beneath it.

“Kyaaah!”

“Don’t cause any trouble.”

His stern voice lashed out at her.

“I will ensure you become pregnant, just as you wish.”