A moan escaped her lips. Cyrene clung to the hem of Areo’s clothes, silently praying that the man before her was Ilion. But there was not the slightest resemblance. Deep black hair, terrifying golden eyes, hands that clasped her br*ast with painful force. Instead of a gentle embrace, every movement screamed of nothing more than a raw need to satisfy his lust.

“Ha, uh… ….”

She gasped, trying to push his shoulders away, but their tightly pressed bodies made it impossible. With every move Areo made, the sofa creaked and scraped against the floor. Alongside the lewd, crunching sounds, the soaked fabric clung coldly to her hips.

“Huff…”

“Haah. Ugh.”

His p*nis, which had been pounding and scraping against her inner walls, suddenly plunged deep inside her. The familiar rhythm brought her to a predictable climax.

“Ah, hngh…!”

As she shook violently, clutching at his dishevelled clothes, his p*nis, buried deep inside her, released its seed.

“Haa…”

Areos let out a lazy sigh as he slowly withdrew. The large, heavy p*nis slid out, leaving a trail of c*m dripping down. Her legs, still spread without a thought of closing them, looked up at him blankly.

Her hair and clothes were a mess. Areos looked down at her quietly before letting out a low chuckle.

“Having s*x in a wedding dress… that sounds quite thrilling.”

“…”

“Besides, being someone else’s wife makes it even more tempting. Doing it in front of your husband sounds like fun. What do you think?”

He chuckled, as if he had just told an amusing joke, and stroked her lips gently with his fingers. Cyrene’s lips trembled slightly.

“I don’t want to.”

Areo’s eyebrows rose slightly at her words of refusal. She had known what it meant to live as a mistress from an early age. Of course, she hadn’t known her mother was one.

Even if you were loved, there was always the fear of being discarded, of having to wait endlessly for the other to come. Wasn’t that the nature of such an existence?

‘I don’t want this…’

It wasn’t because she loved Areos or wanted to stay by his side. It was simply because she didn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps and ruin him.

She was already aware of the countless rumours circulating about her existence. Half-siblings. A sordid relationship. Areos had never mentioned such things to her directly, but she was well aware of the burdens he had to bear because of her.

Living in the Imperial City, she had picked up on these things. Cyrene reached out and slowly began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the taut muscles underneath.

Her fingertips brushed over the well-defined, lean abdomen as she moved her hand down to touch the tip of his half-hardened p*nis. As if spreading a smooth liquid over her palm, she rubbed it in and kneaded it lightly, and that alone was enough to *rouse him further.

“Your Highness.”

The hardened p*nis was returned between her thighs. The opening, slick with s*men and her own fluids, gently enveloped it.

“I don’t want to be a mistress.”

Areo’s expression changed slightly, as if taken by surprise. Was it because she was making a request? Or because her words seemed to indicate a desire to stay at his side?

His hands cupped her thighs. Slowly, savouring the sensation of her inner walls, he thrust in and out, each movement drawing out white fluid.

“So you want to be the Crown Princess?”

Cyrene stared into his face. If she stayed by his side, would the day come when she would have to kill him again? Like that time – when it felt like a pin had been driven straight through her heart.

She laid her palm flat against his chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat, slightly irregular, as if he really loved her.

It was ridiculous, pathetic and heartbreaking all at once.

‘Who could possibly kill Areos?’

Who could possibly bring his heart to a halt? As Cyrene idly mused, only one name surfaced in her thoughts. With Ariel gone, there remained only one person capable of willingly plunging a blade into Areos’s heart.
“I want to be Empress.”

Areos let out a slightly delayed laugh. The slow grinding motion within her walls stirred up white foam, the mixing of their fluids making sticky, suggestive sounds.

“I didn’t know you were so ambitious, Cyrene.”

As the large p*nis moved deep inside her, her belly bulged slightly, the shape faintly visible. She placed her hand over the bulge and, as if he could feel it, Areos let out a low moan, his throat vibrating.

“Empress sounds nice.”

“You’ll have to wait a few more years.”

He replied, chuckling as if he’d heard an amusing joke. His tongue slid along her cheek before his teeth nipped at her throat. The mixture of pain and pleasure spread through her in waves.

“Hngh…”

‘Your Majesty’.

The man surfaced in her thoughts—not as a father, but merely as a man. Someone who had always known exactly what Cyrene was and never minded. Whether he would hear her out now, she couldn’t say. It was just a fleeting notion.

‘In this world, the only person who could raise a blade against Areos is the Emperor.’

What should she do then? Should she go to him and beg? Spread her legs, take him in her mouth and beg him to kill Areos? The thoughts raced through her mind. Whether it was really possible or not, she couldn’t think of any other way to cling to a solution.

As her insides tightened, Areos let out a lazy moan. She could feel every bulging vein along his rigid p*nis, and the pounding rhythm of his heartbeat echoed through her inner walls.

“Your Majesty… wants me, doesn’t he?”

He lifted his head at the words. She had never seen such a terrifying expression on his face. The fingers that had been at her throat coiled around her like a snake.

“What did you say?”

He repeated the question slowly, as if he hadn’t heard it right. The pressure around her throat made her face flush as blood rushed up, cutting off her breath.

“Hngh, ha…”

Cyrene gasped for breath, managing a shallow mouthful of air as she struggled weakly. With Areos’ p*nis buried deep inside her, even the thought of escape was impossible.

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty… wants me…”

Her whole body shook uncontrollably. She clawed desperately at the fingers wrapped around her throat, but Areos remained unmoved, his grip unyielding.

“Do you want to be Empress?”

“Hngh! Ha, hah… ha…”

Finally, the hand around her throat loosened, allowing her to breathe. Her head spun, and before she could recover, Areos thrust deep into her with a force that sent waves of pain and twisted pleasure to the tips of her toes.

“Is that it? You want to be Empress?”

His tone was almost amused, as if he’d overheard something entertaining. Cyrene nodded. She didn’t understand the intricacies of politics. If she was going to spread her legs anyway, wouldn’t it be better to serve a man of even greater stature?

‘Then he might kill Areos for me.’

The thought vaguely crossed her mind. Contrary to her expectation that he would grow angrier, Areos burst out laughing.

“What do you want to do as Empress?”

I want to kill you. She swallowed the words. When she blinked, he chuckled quietly.

“It will be difficult to become Empress while Mother is still alive. Or do you have a way to push her aside?”

“…”

“You think you can do what even Creusa couldn’t?”

It was blatant mockery. Areos laughed loudly, the sound dripping with mockery.

“Perhaps I could.”

“You mean you’d sell your body to Father for it?”

“If that’s what he desires… Ugh!”

Her head snapped roughly to the side, her cheek stinging from the slap.

“Why? The Emperor is such a lofty figure, isn’t he? Even Your Highness is beneath him, is she not? If His Majesty desires me, it’s only natural that I…”

“Ah!”

Her head turned sharply again at another slap, but Cyrene stared back at him defiantly. Was she wrong? No matter how great the Crown Prince was, he was still inferior to the Emperor. Even she understood that much.

“I… for you…”

Areos gritted his teeth, his words pouring out as if he were forcing each one through clenched jaws. His fists clenched and Cyrene flinched, bracing herself for a blow. But instead of striking, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.

With a strange expression and clenched teeth, Areos growled.

“Ha. Why? Do you regret not running to the Emperor and throwing yourself into his arms?”

“Yes.”

If she had climbed into that carriage willingly, would Ilion still be alive? Even if she hadn’t shared happy days with him, could she at least have consoled herself with the thought that he was alive somewhere, wishing for his happiness?

Cyrene stared directly at Areos, unyielding. He let go of her hair with a dismissive flick, as if throwing it away.

“Don’t even dream of it, Cyrene.”

He retreated, his passion seemingly extinguished. The opening that had held him for so long twitched, spilling white foam. The door closed behind him with a loud bang. Still lying there with her legs spread, she slowly closed her eyes.

‘What should I do, Ilion?’

There was no answer, no solution in sight.