Her insides clenched tightly, as if trying to imprint his form inside her. Every hard thrust of his hips made the bed creak loudly, adding to the symphony of sounds in the room.

“Mm… ahh…!”

Cyrene’s fingertips raked down the crown prince’s back, her entire body tensing as a shiver radiated all the way to her toes. Her inner walls convulsed in a tight spasm, but Areos seemed unfazed, pressing himself even deeper inside her.

“Ah… ahhh.”

Her vision flickered with white flashes. Her body shook uncontrollably, trembling under the waves of pleasure that seemed to stretch endlessly. Her limbs went limp, trembling weakly in the lingering aftershocks. Her entire body was drenched in sweat, the sticky heat clinging to her skin.

Areos gently brushed back her sweat-soaked hair, his fingers tenderly wiping away the tears glistening in her eyes.

“Hah… mmph…!”

Another climax surged through her, its intensity blurring the edges of her consciousness. Cyrene’s vision dimmed, as if she might faint from the overwhelming sensation.

“Ha…”

A low, ragged breath echoed in her ears. The light touch against her cheek brought her back momentarily, only for the relentless thrusting to scatter her thoughts again. Cyrene clung to Areos’s shoulders, tears streaming as she tried to anchor herself.

It felt as if she could be swept away at any moment. She exhaled shakily, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Even the moans that escaped her lips carried the heat of her overwhelming sensations. Areos showed no signs of stopping, his movements unyielding.

“Mmng… ah…!”

Her blurred consciousness finally snapped, fading into darkness. Her fingers slipped weakly from his back, falling limp.

***

When she slowly opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a chest sculpted with firm muscle. The familiar sight made her blink as she hesitantly lifted her head.

Of course – it was Areos. His face came into view, framed by long, dark lashes that fluttered open to reveal piercing golden eyes. She couldn’t help the small shiver that ran through her body.

Even in the darkness, his vivid golden eyes seemed to glow, piercing through the shadows. Only then did Cyrene realise that his arm was still around her back.

“…Your Highness.”

At her words, Areos blinked slowly, then suddenly sat up. The abrupt absence of his warmth sent an involuntary shiver through her body. Cyrene’s eyes caught the faint nail marks on his back, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent.

“Get out.”

Why was he angry again? Cyrene hesitated, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. He was such a difficult man to understand. Others were content just to sleep with her, enjoying the moment without complaint. Even Ilion adored her without her needing to do anything in return.

But Areos was endlessly complicated. One moment, he was tender, the next, furious. As she bent down to pick up her clothes from the floor, a strong arm suddenly pulled her back into his embrace.

“Your Highness…?”

“Damn it.”

A low string of curses escaped his lips. Cyrene blinked, uncertain—should she pull away or stay still? Before she could decide, he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up, capturing her lips in a rough kiss.

“Mm… ugh…”

His hardened p*nis pressed insistently against her rear, and soon she found herself sinking back into the bed. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading them apart as his body moved with urgency.

“Ung… ahhh…”

He slid into her with one gentle thrust, the smooth warmth of her love juices guiding him. Cyrene wrapped her arms around his back, holding on to him as if to steady herself. She couldn’t fathom his sudden change of heart – to order her to leave one moment and now this.

“Haa… ahh…”

Their tongues entwined messily until he bit down hard enough to sting, drawing a short gasp from her. Areos pulled back slightly, his breath hot and uneven as he gazed down at her.

“Haah… hah…”

In the moonlight, his expression flickered into view—somewhere between a scowl and a smile. Cyrene’s body was rocked roughly up and down, her vision blurring with the movement.

“Ahh… ugh!”

Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, she clung to him with desperate intensity, holding on for dear life. She knew he was conflicted, though she didn’t understand why. But one thing she knew – it had something to do with her.

She didn’t want to be left alone.

That was all she wanted. She didn’t want to be sent somewhere else again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft moans mingling with the creaking of the bed beneath them.

“Ah… Your Highness… haa…”

If she stayed here, she might see Ilion again. She wouldn’t have to face more pain. Closing her eyes, she pressed her sweat-slicked body even closer to him, as though trying to melt into his warmth.

The crown prince’s ragged breaths echoed in her ears, and for Cyrene, that was enough. If he was satisfied, he wouldn’t send her away.

Her body began to move again, instinctively chasing the familiar waves of pleasure. She let out shallow breaths, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist.

“Mmngh…”

“Ah…!”

The clenching of her inner walls drew a short moan from Areos, his arms pulling her against him so tightly it almost hurt. Their mingled, laboured breaths filled the room with a lazy rhythm.

With each involuntary contraction deep inside her, she could feel his seed begin to pour out, slick and warm. She looked up at him cautiously, trying to gauge his mood. He said nothing, just pulled her into his embrace and laid them both down.

Snug against his chest, she blinked slowly.

‘Is he not going to tell me to go?’ she wondered.

She quietly rested her cheek against the crown prince’s chest. His heartbeat sounded slightly faster than normal. The warmth of his body enveloped her, and she found it comforting.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes.

***

The days after returning to the crown prince’s palace were exceptionally calm, as if everything had reverted to the way it used to be.

Cyrene walked slowly into the garden. She wondered if Ilion might come to visit but then realized it had been a long time since she’d last seen him. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

Can I go outside?

She glanced at the large gate made of iron bars. Areos had never explicitly told her not to leave, though he had never said she could either. As Cyrene approached the gate, the guards stiffened and watched her warily.

Cyrene simply stood quietly in front of the gate. She had no place to go. The only place she wanted to be was by Ilion’s side, but she didn’t even know where that was. All she knew about him was his appearance and his name.

Ah, right, he was a marquis.

Not that she really knew what a marquis actually did. And what difference did it make, knowing he was one?

Cyrene shrugged. She looked beyond the iron gate.

Going outside wouldn’t be good. She might end up in a place like the one the count had dragged her to. Or maybe… just…

She stopped her thoughts there. The truth was, she didn’t really know what the outside world was like. She had never been outside these walls. Her only memories of the “outside” were from her early childhood – the beautiful mansion she had lived in with her mother, the Count’s basement, and riding in a carriage with the Crown Prince. So the outside world didn’t seem particularly attractive or enticing to her.

“Haa.”

She sighed softly, running her fingertips along the iron bars as she strolled slowly. The breeze gently stirred her hair, and as she took a deep breath, a luxurious carriage came to a halt beyond the gate.

Her gaze was immediately drawn to it – a grand, extravagant carriage, impossible to ignore. She turned her head towards it, and from inside, someone familiar stepped out.

Where had she seen him before?

Cyrene blinked, trying to recognise him. She could faintly remember the men who had visited her in recent years, but this face came from much older memories – ones buried deep in her mind.

He looked far older than she remembered. His hair was streaked with gray, and fine lines creased the corners of his eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

Someone from the group standing beside him spoke the words softly, and it was then that Cyrene realised who he was. Your Majesty. A man she had seen many times during her mother’s lifetime.

“Your Majesty.”

Could it be? Wasn’t this the man her mother had once referred to as her Father?

Cyrene approached the iron gate slowly. She didn’t know if he was really someone she could call Father, but he was undeniably familiar to her.

“Your Majesty!”

She called out, her voice louder this time, carrying a mixture of hesitation and longing.

Was it joy she felt? Or was it something else entirely? Cyrene wasn’t sure. She approached him with a sense of familiarity, perhaps because he reminded her so much of her mother. As she approached the iron gate, the doors to the Crown Prince’s palace opened behind her.

Someone standing behind His Majesty leaned forward and whispered something softly. Unsure what to do, Cyrene hesitated, then offered a bright smile. It was the first time she’d seen the Emperor since she’d arrived at the Imperial Palace.