“Cyrene.”

The voice she didn’t want to hear came through. Why? Why could she hear Areo’s voice? It was a sound she had never heard before, not even as a hallucination. It was more familiar than any name anyone could call her, but just as terrifying.

“Wake up.”

“……No.”

Cyrene mumbled and turned her body, not wanting to get up. She thought that if she stayed still, Illion might come and kiss her and gently brush her hair. With that thought she closed her eyes tightly.

She felt a slow touch brushing her hair. Expecting a light kiss to follow, she smiled faintly, but in the next moment a sharp slap rang out and stung her cheek.

Her mind snapped back to reality. Illion had never slapped her before, not even in jest. The moment she opened her eyes, she screamed without realising it.

“Ahh! H-hick, mmph.”

She screamed, but quickly covered her mouth in panic.

There, in front of her, was someone who should have been dead. And covered in blood.

Gasping for breath, she fled to the corner. Could this be the nightmare Areos had given her? Cyrene trembled as she clutched her knees to her chest.

“Illion…”

“Ah, Illion.”

A slow, mocking laugh echoed. It was so real and terrifying that it sent shivers down her entire body.

“It’s a dream.”

“A dream? What are you talking about?”

Blood soaked boots stopped in front of her. Cyrene squeezed her eyes shut.

‘It’s a dream. It’s a nightmare. I have to wake up.’

She clenched her fists and fought, trying to escape this place, this dream, this reality.

But then she heard the sound of cloth brushing against her. Blood-soaked fingers touched her under her chin.

“Ugh…”

Cyrene squeezed her eyes shut. She hoped the smell of blood filling her nostrils was just an illusion. She tried to ignore the sticky sensation left by the thumb as it traced her cheek.

‘I can’t open my eyes.’

For if she did, Areos might reappear. As she stubbornly kept her eyes closed, the laughter came again.

“Did you get bored waiting?”

“……”

“Open your eyes.”

Even though it was only two words, Cyrene couldn’t refuse. The word ‘obedience’, etched deep into her bones, forced her to move. Hoping that what she saw before her was Illion, she slowly, very slowly, opened her eyes. As she did so, tears filled her eyes.

Areos was still standing in front of her. Covered in blood from head to toe, splattered in droplets. She didn’t even want to ask whose blood it was.

“Your Highness.”

Her voice trembled. He should be dead. Why? How? Her vision blurred.

“It seems you have slept soundly. You’re still not fully awake.”

“Your Highness.”

Cyrene felt for the hand holding her chin. How could she not know his hand? Areos’ voice. His gaze. Even the feel of his skin, she knew it all too well.

The dream was painfully real and there was no escape.

“Your Highness…”

She murmured, almost like a groan, her hand fumbling over his chest. She was sure she had stabbed him deeply with the pin. She could remember the sensation vividly. Yet there was no trace of it on Areo’s chest.

“You must have been bored while I was away,” he said with a low laugh, grabbing her chin and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Mmph… ugh…!”

It was a reckless kiss. A terrifying, almost devouring kiss that left her gasping for breath. His thick tongue invaded her mouth, swirling inside, while his hand slid impatiently under her skirt.

“Hngh… ha, ugh…”

As Cyrene struggled, Areos gripped both her wrists tightly, as if angry. With one hand he undid the front of his trousers, then grabbed her flailing ankle and pulled her towards him.

“No… … Ugh!”

His p*nis entered her v*gina without hesitation. Her partially wet inner walls quivered, protesting in pain. As she shook her head and struggled, something fell with a clatter.

It was the pin – a pin with butterfly wings fluttering faintly. The same pin that had been stuck in Areos’ chest.

Cyrene stared at it blankly.

“Ugh! Ah… ugh!”

Her body, accustomed to pleasure, responded quickly to Areos’ touch. She had thought she was used to Illion’s gentle caresses. She truly believed that.

‘Was it all… just a dream?’

Where did the dream begin and end? From the moment he promised to make her his wife? Or from the moment she had driven the pin into Areo’s chest?

“What are you thinking about?”

Her cheek was gripped tightly. Cyrene stared blankly at the face of the man before her. Was everything – her happy life, her escape, her love for Ilion, even her child – just a fleeting dream?

Apparently displeased with her lack of response, Areos movements became rougher. Cyrene’s hips were raised even higher. Her skirt, completely turned up, left the point of their union completely exposed.

“Hhic, ah…”

She stared blankly at the dark red p*nis roughly burrowing into her p*ssy. Its shape and colour were completely different to Ilion’s. It penetrated and stirred her in a completely different way. Cyrene truly realised that this was reality.

Areos was not dead, and she was still by her side.

‘Then what about Ilion?’

Wasn’t he alive in the dream? Cyrene clung to a glimmer of hope. Areos had always claimed he was dead, but he had never shown her his body.

“Focus.”

A light slap stung her cheek again. The violence she had managed to forget in her dreams began to creep back through her body. Areos pushed her legs further apart, driving himself deeper into her.

She felt her insides tighten and twitch with a faint creaking sensation. Despite her best efforts to suppress any reaction, her body instinctively clung to Areos. It tightened around him as if craving more, releasing a shameless flow of fluid.

“Ugh, uh… … .”

An involuntary groan escaped her lips. Cyrene clenched her fists. She was sure that in reality she had been with Areos the day before. Yet, perhaps because of the vivid dream she had experienced, their intimacy now felt strangely unfamiliar.

It felt like she was betraying Ilion.

‘I don’t want this…’

The harder she tried to suppress her feelings, the more aware she became of Areos. She could feel exactly where he entered her, how he moved and how he had shaped her. Everything she thought she had forgotten began to flood her mind and take control.

“Ah… no…”

Tears streamed down her face. She wanted to look away, but Areos wouldn’t let her. She was forced to face his blood-spattered face as she reluctantly reached her climax. Instead of the soft, gentle sensation of being tickled by feathers, an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure coursed through her entire body.

“Ugh, ahh…!”

Her body shook uncontrollably. Areos let out a laugh, as if thoroughly entertained.

“You’re quite amusing today, Cyrene.”

He played with her as if he’d found a new toy, his fingers exploring her intimately. The lingering waves of intense sensation that had swept through her body were quickly replaced by another wave of pleasure that invaded her once more.

His fingers teased her swollen, flushed nub roughly as his p*nis repeatedly ground against her trembling inner walls. Cyrene shook her head desperately.

“S-stop, please… ah… hhic…”

It felt as if every fragment of the dream she had clung to was slipping away. With each flash of overwhelming sensation in her mind, Ilion’s smiling face grew fainter. As she moaned and struggled, almost screamed, Areos laughed with obvious pleasure.

“Please, ah. Please… Your Highness, please…”

She was no longer sure what she was begging for. Her eyes burned and stung with tears.

“Ahh… ah, no…!”

Her vision flickered in and out. Amidst the distant, fading fragments of everything she knew, only Areo’s rough, relentless movements inside her remained vivid.

She blinked repeatedly, her vision blurred and unfocused. She wished more than anything that this was all just a dream.

***

She inhaled sharply. Instead of the soothing scent of sunlight, a heavy, suffocating stench pressed down on her entire body. It was a smell she could never forget, nor escape, no matter how hard she tried.

Begging inwardly, please, please, Cyrene slowly opened her eyes. In front of her was an unfamiliar yet hauntingly familiar chest. Its unscarred, smooth surface seemed to confirm that it had all been a dream.

“You’re awake,” a voice said.

Areos’ satisfied voice reached her ears. Cyrene rolled her eyes to look at him. He smiled as he playfully twisted strands of her pale golden hair around his fingers.

“We’ll be back in the capital tomorrow.”

She had so many questions to ask. What had happened to Princess Ariel? Was Ilion really alive? She clung to the hope that what she had seen in her dream contained some shred of truth.

‘Even if we can’t meet, I just hope he’s alive…’

Areos sat up, his movements catching her attention. As he reached for his shirt and began to put it on, Cyrene absentmindedly grabbed her chemise from the floor.

“Cyrene.”

He called her name, his satisfied grin still on his face. He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up. There was something sinister about his smile.

“Now that Ariel’s business is done, I’ve decided what to do with you.”

Ah. Was this a dream? Or was this reality? She remembered a moment when he had said something similar before. Cyrene clutched the hem of her clothes tightly.

If her memory served her correctly, the next words out of his mouth would be about arranging a marriage for her.

‘And the sword…’