His hand moved slowly toward her, tilting her chin upward with a gentle but deliberate touch.

“…Beautiful.”

His words a brief yet profound observation.

“Your Majesty, she is the daughter of Marchioness Creusa Laska.”

“Ah, Creusa.”

The emperor said, nodding briefly.

“Now that I think of it, you do resemble her.”

His golden eyes scrutinizing her face.

“Your Majesty.”

Does he remember me?

Cyrene looked up at him, her heart pounding slightly with anticipation.

“Take her away.”

“Your Majesty, that’s not possible.”

“What are you saying?”

“…She is… Your Majesty’s illegitimate child.”

A chilling silence fell over the scene.

“I’ve never acknowledged an illegitimate child.”

“Even so, she was born during the time you spent with Marchioness Laska.”

Despite the servant’s desperate attempts to reason with him, the Emperor didn’t even raise an eyebrow. His composure remained unshaken. Cyrene, sensing the tension, slowly began to withdraw.

But before she could slip away, the emperor’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm tightly, holding her in place.

“Wasn’t she being raised by Areos anyway?”

“Y-yes, that’s correct.”

The servant replied, bowing his head.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Cyrene squirmed uncomfortably, but the grip on her arm tightened.

“If they were truly siblings, Areos wouldn’t have raised her.”

“She still belongs to His Highness, the Crown Prince.”

At that, the Emperor raised an eyebrow – a familiar expression that appeared whenever something displeased him.

“What is her name?”

“Cyrene.”

The servant answered in her stead.

“Wouldn’t she be better as the emperor’s possession rather than the crown prince’s?”

He let out a dry laugh as she was dragged through the iron gate. Cyrene clung desperately to the frame, her voice shaking.

“N-no, I don’t want to go!”

She had never called him “father”, but her mother had always insisted that His Majesty was her father. And hadn’t the servant just called her an “illegitimate child”? She hadn’t understood what that meant when she was younger, but now she knew only too well.

So even if the emperor refused to acknowledge her, Cyrene was still his daughter. Yet, he acted as if none of that mattered, pulling her away without hesitation.

She had endured enough whispers and rumours because of her connection to Areos. People whispered about how siblings weren’t supposed to do “those” things together. If it wasn’t acceptable between siblings, it was even less so between parents and children.

“Ah!”

Cyrene was forced to release her hold on the gate as a violent tug wrenched her grip free. She staggered, nearly losing her balance, as she was shoved toward the carriage.

Just as she was about to be forced inside, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

“Father.”

Areos strode toward them, each step deliberate and heavy, his expression dark with fury.

“She’s mine.”

He said firmly, holding Cyrene’s arm and twisting it slightly as he pulled her away from the emperor. The sharp sting of his hold made her wince, but she clung tightly to his clothes, finding solace in his presence.

From the moment she arrived at the palace, through her harrowing ordeal with the Count, and even now, Areos had always been the one to save her. He was her only saviour. Quietly, Cyrene slipped behind his broad back, seeking shelter from the Emperor’s gaze.

“You’ve trained her well, Areos.”

The emperor said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“She looks just like Creusa. No, perhaps even more beautiful.”

“She is… your daughter.”

Areos said through gritted teeth, his voice strained with barely contained rage.

“I don’t recall ever fathering such a daughter.”

The emperor replied, his dry laugh cutting through the tension like a blade.

Areos’s grip on her arm tightened, the pressure becoming almost unbearable. The emperor’s amusement only grew, a sharp chuckle escaping his lips.

“If she’s your sister, then you shouldn’t be doing such things with her,” the emperor taunted.

Areos pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening as his silence conveyed everything he refused to say. The emperor laughed again, clearly amused by the tension in the air.

“In the end, we all shared her mother. What difference does it make?”

Without waiting for a response, the Emperor stepped back into the carriage, dismissing the moment with an air of finality.

“Let her in today.”

With that, the emperor’s carriage departed smoothly, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

Areos turned sharply toward her, his jaw clenched tightly. His gaze lingered on Cyrene for a brief, tense moment before he strode back toward the palace, his steps quick and purposeful.

“Your Highness, I…”

She stammered and hurried after him, but his pace was too fast. Struggling to keep up, she stumbled and fell to the ground. Areos paused, his sharp eyes glancing back at her, before walking over and scooping her up effortlessly.

Startled, she clung to his shoulder, her heart racing as she cautiously studied his expression.

“Going outside without permission?”

“I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

Cyrene’s body trembled uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the intensity of Areos’s anger. She hadn’t chosen to step outside—she had been forcibly taken by the Emperor. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her face crumpling as she struggled to find the words to explain.

“Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“…Hah.”

Areos let out a short, sharp sigh, the sound cutting through the tense air. Cyrene watched him anxiously, her heart pounding as he continued forward without slowing his stride. Carrying her effortlessly, he ascended the stairs and, with little care, tossed her onto the bed.

“Kyah!”

“What? Did you miss another man’s c*ck that much?”

His tone laced with contempt as he began to loosen his shirt.

“No! I really didn’t—mmph!”

Her sentence was cut short as he grabbed her ankle roughly and pulled her down the bed. Her body slid towards him, her skirt riding up to her waist. His hands moved without hesitation, pulling off her underwear and making her whole body tremble.

“Or were you, like Creusa, trying to seduce the Emperor to get something out of him?”

“Ah, no… hic, mmngh!”

Long fingers brushed between her thighs before he unzipped his trousers. His already hardened p*nis sprang free, rigid and throbbing. Areos grasped her thighs, parted them and thrust into her, despite her still dry entrance.

“Ahh…!”

“Hah…”

His hot breath spilled across her forehead as he tore at her neckline, exposing her chest. He bit down hard on the soft mound, leaving her gasping for breath.

The wet sounds of her rapidly softening body filled the room, echoing with each thrust. His hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her harder against him, causing her thighs to shake uncontrollably.

“Ahh… Your Highness, ugh…!”

“You.”

Areos growled, his golden eyes glaring down at her with a chilling intensity, filled with a storm of mixed emotions.

“…Damn it.”

With a low murmur, the crown prince’s movements intensified. Cyrene’s body shook violently with each thrust and the bed groaned beneath them, the creaking sound indecently loud and lascivious in the quiet room.

“Useless thing.”

“Hhic… mmngh…”

Cyrene looked up at him with hazy eyes, only to feel his hand grip her cheek firmly. His jaw clenched tightly, his frustration evident.

“If you’re so useless…”

His cold, cutting words were at odds with his actions. Despite his harsh tone, his arms wrapped tightly around her body, as if to hold her together even as he threatened to tear her apart. The strength of his embrace made her feel as if she might shatter, and with each precise thrust that struck deep inside her, a helpless moan escaped her lips.

As Cyrene buried her face against his shoulder and clung to his back, a low sigh slipped from Areos.

Between their mingled breaths and soft whimpers, his voice carried a tone of reprimand. He asked why she had gone outside, his words sharp and accusatory. Cyrene shook her head weakly, trying to convey that it hadn’t been her choice, but Areos didn’t seem interested in hearing her explanation.

He muttered something under his breath—words she couldn’t quite make out, their meaning lost amidst the chaos of his emotions and actions.

He exhaled heavily, his breath brushing against her damp skin, and gently caressed her face. Cyrene’s sweat-soaked hair clung to his long fingers.

“Cyrene.”

Areos murmured her name, pressing his lips softly to her flushed cheek. The tenderness felt unfamiliar, almost unsettling, and the undercurrent of his irritation left her uneasy.

For a moment, Cyrene thought of the Emperor – the face she had not seen since she was five years old. His gaze that day had been eerily familiar, a gaze she knew only too well. It was the same look that other men had given her: the look of someone who wanted to pull off her dress, spread her legs and whisper about her beauty as they panted over her.

‘Ilion.’

His name came to mind. Ilion, the only man who hadn’t tried to undress her, though she knew he wasn’t completely free of such feelings. Unlike the others, he tried to hide them. Sometimes he even went so far as to straighten her collar when it was crooked.

When Cyrene let out a soft moan, she found herself clinging to Areos’ back. Why was she thinking of Ilion at this moment? Her mind wandered as her eyelids fluttered.

Areo’s lips parted against her shoulder and his tongue brushed over her sweat-soaked skin. It moved slowly up her neck before finding its way to her lips.

“Mmngh… mm…”

Areos consumed her completely, leaving her breathless and overwhelmed, her mind spinning as he filled every part of her.