The low timbre of his voice blended too well with the wet sounds. A strange fire blazed in her chest.

Something simmered beneath her navel, bubbling upward. The sensation of her body burning alive made Sveta curl her feet tight.

The searing pain that had consumed her below slowly blurred, replaced by something else—hotter, more passionate.

The Duke could not have failed to notice. He let out a low laugh.

“Cling to my neck.”

Then he commanded.

“No…”

“Then it will be harder for you.”

He was right. Before long, Sveta clung desperately to his thick neck.

The Duke gave a broad smile.

“D-don’t… laugh.”

“Not if you don’t cry.”

Her legs wound around him like serpents. Their gazes tangled as tightly as ropes. Their lips met again and again.

At last, he mastered her.

For some reason, her tears would not stop. And so his smile would not fade.

It was too beautiful. Too cruel.

At some point her tension eased, her arms encircling him grew softer.

When the end came, Sveta went limp.

At last she let out a breath of relief.

The flush on her cheeks deepened. She was that bewitching a mistress.

Her sky-blue eyes drifted over his taut neck and disheveled blond hair before falling weakly against his reddened lips.

Aiden’s mouth curved upward.

As though sensing it, she suddenly widened her eyes in shock. Ah, his mistress was quick to catch on.

He spoke.

“It’s not… over yet.”

The moment they joined again, a surge of indescribable emotion roiled within his chest.

What was he supposed to do at such a time? What words was he meant to say?

Unable to find an answer, Aiden pressed his lips firmly against her damp forehead and rubbed them there.

“Duke… please… s-slowly.”

Her brows bent under pleasure as she begged.

Was it because it felt good, or because it hurt? He could not tell. Once again, Aiden chose to believe what he wanted to believe — that damnably sweet cry was proof enough for him.

He grasped her wrists firmly and pinned them down, pressing in with his weight until he reached the end.

Her small, slender frame shook as though it might break.

Her swollen, trembling lips parted.

Her voice, filled with supplication, poured forth from between them.

In that moment, that was all that mattered to him.

And it was all his.

◯◯◯

Aiden drew her close and lay down beside her. He cradled her limp head in his arm.

“…Mm… I’m sleepy…”

“You may sleep now.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“…It’s cold.”

With shallow, birdlike breaths breaking from her lips, Sveta whimpered faintly.

Aiden carefully withdrew his waist. A trace of blood appeared. He knew what it meant.

The moment he confirmed she was wholly his, the thirst within him finally eased.

Outside the slightly open window, the year’s first summer rain began to fall in steady streams.

Aiden pulled the blanket up to her chin. Before long, Sveta slipped into deep, childlike slumber.

He stared at her swollen lips as they puffed out a soft puh of breath. A strange feeling stirred inside him.

It was as though his tongue had turned too sweet, as if he had consumed far too much sugar. His insides burned.

With emotions he could not name, he closed his eyes.

That night, for the first time, he drifted into sleep without the scent of sedatives.

◯◯◯

Dawn had not yet broken and the darkness lingered. Aiden stirred, sensing an eerie warmth. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Her forehead, pressed against his chest, felt like fire. The sheets were soaked with her sweat.

“Sveta.”

“…Mm.”

Her breathing burst out in strange, uneven gasps.

“Are you all right?”

“No… h-hot… it’s… no…”

He tapped her on the cheek lightly, but she only groaned.

Her swollen lips moved ceaselessly, muttering words that were too incoherent to make out.

Aiden hurried to dress her in a robe and swaddle her tightly in a blanket.

At the sound of the bell, the butler and head maid arrived at once.

“Summon a physician immediately.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Her whole body was burning with fever. Looking back, she realized that it had been like this since last night.

At the time, he had merely assumed it was the heat of passion.

He hadn’t realized that her feverish breathing and delirious murmurs were a sign of something else.

He had only assumed it was nothing more than sulking, petty defiance born of spite. Foolishly so.

“Sveta.”

“…Mm.”

The sound of the rain drowned out her faint m*an. It felt like an ominous sign.

How long would it take Ivan to arrive fully prepared? The wait was wearing him down.

He had once wished for her death. But not like this. Not by slipping beyond his reach.

His chest clenched painfully. Aiden raked his fingers through his hair roughly.

Then he lowered his lips to Sveta’s ear. Her sweat dampened them like raindrops.

“Endure it a little longer.”

Before the butler could even leave the chamber, Aiden swept her into his arms and ran.

◯◯◯

At the far end of the east wing, Ivan’s laboratory shone as bright as day. Aiden hastily laid Sveta upon the bed.

“…Hm.”

The physician studied her skin, grave-faced, unable to speak for a long while.

All the while, she panted faintly.

Her condition seemed to worsen by the moment. Growing anxious, Aiden dropped to one knee beside the bed.

Her scattered breaths rasped in his ear. His voice came sharp with impatience as he pressed the physician.

“Examine her quickly.”

“All right, don’t worry so much.”

Ivan furrowed his brows deeply as he took her pulse. Shaking his head faintly, he released her wrist to take her temperature.

Her slender arm jerked and fell limply over the side of the bed with a dull thud.

In that instant, another memory overlapped her frail arm.

That night. The dreadful Saturday when it had rained without end. The memory suddenly pierced Aiden’s mind.

He could hear the sound of a fierce and unrelenting summer storm as his sister’s small arm fell lifeless at her side.

And through the thunder came the echo of Jace Gould’s hideous laughter.

Jace had tossed aside his dead sister as if she were nothing but a nuisance, then watched Aiden crawling across the floor.

Aiden dragged himself forward and embraced his deceased sister. As dawn broke, he could feel the warmth draining from her tiny frame.

Jace Gould appeared, holding a baby in his arms and yawning widely. He tugged at the child’s jet-black hair until it cried out as though its throat had been ripped open. Jace sneered.

“Guess. Should I kill this baby? Or let it live? Hmm?”

“Uhh… huuh…”

“If you answer right, I’ll let you live.”

“Hhk… hhk…”

“Or try saving it yourself. If you can take this child from my hands, I’ll let you both live. Well? Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Like a voiceless beast, Aiden cried and Jace Gould laughed like one.

The helplessness. The terror.

That mass of emotions clawed up his throat, threatening to choke him.

“Ah…”

Sveta groaned again. That fragile sound shattered his thoughts and rescued him from the nightmare.

It was indeed strange.

This woman was Jace Gould’s daughter. He should want to kill her. Yet why did he feel as though he had to save her?

Why did he feel such an overwhelming urge to take responsibility for her, to keep her alive?

Aiden knew the reason.

It was because of the warmth they had shared only hours ago.

Because he could not bear the thought of the woman who had burned so hotly against him going cold in an instant.

Because he could not bear her becoming like his sister.

That was why.

Aiden clenched his teeth. The grinding sound cracked between them as he spat out his words.

“Why… is this happening?”

Ivan observed his unease with mild surprise and explained,

“Yesterday, I thought it was just dehydration and fatigue. But now I realize it’s a severe fever and heavy cold. It’s undoubtedly from being exposed to the cold of the underground prison for so long…”

“So?”

“She’ll need medicine and several days of rest.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s right.”

Just a fever.

Aiden muttered, his strength draining away.

“Does it make sense for someone to suffer this much from a cold?”

“You wouldn’t understand, being so strong. Ordinary people fall sick often—some even die from it.” 

Ivan’s plump fingers moved busily across the shelves stacked with medicinal herbs.

He placed a handful of dried plants into a mortar, ground them finely, then mixed them with white powder and sealed the blend in a glass vial.

“Three times a day. One spoonful dissolved in water. And…”

Ivan leaned closer, his eyes shifting slyly.

“No sleeping together until she recovers.”

“……”

“She was diligent in applying the ointment I gave her last time. It looks like her scars have mostly faded…”

Looking back, her body under the moonlight appeared as soft as its pale light. The fact that he had only realized this now meant that he must have been half out of his mind at the time.

His throat bobbed as he remembered their bodies pressed together.

“But the congestion…”

Even while omitting the more indecent word, Ivan pressed on persistently.

“…You do know you have to be gentle, don’t you?”

“……”

Had he? Should he have been?

He had no idea how to touch someone without hurting them. After all, it was his first time touching someone so intimately — or holding anyone, for that matter.

Even if he had known how, he was certain that he would have done the same again.

That flawless sense of fitting together without the slightest gap. The ticklish brush of skin, her trembling breaths…

Such things were simply beyond restraint.

By the time Aiden had composed himself and stood up, Ivan let out a long, weary sigh.

“I thought you knew better.”

“……”

“There’s such a thing as manners. As I’ve said before, your actions should be based on mutual understanding.”

“I don’t need your lessons.”

“Haa…”

Sighing loudly for him to hear, Ivan scooped ointment into a small jar.

“For the marks, apply this. It’s what the trainee knights use for bruises—it works quite well.”

He set the jar in Aiden’s palm, pressing the lid down hard.

“Morning and night. Understood?”

“……”

His friend pushed down with all his might, forcing the lid shut.

It was a futile effort. Aiden’s hand, which was holding the lid down, didn’t move at all.

Before long, Ivan’s fair skin turned red, as though it had been burned by a hot arrowhead.

At last, unable to bear it any longer, he snapped.