…The female’s lips moved cautiously. As if she had soon found the words she was searching for, the female slightly parted her parched, pale lips.

— You’re the one.

From within that hollow shell, not a single sound escaped.

The woman expressed her intention solely through the clear shape of her mouth.

— Why do you keep me alive?

Her chest still rose and fell with ragged breaths. Because of that, the stark red scar on her pale nape—right where her vocal cords should be—stood out prominently.

— I hold no value.

“Do you truly believe that?”

— The negotiations have failed. The Great Lord has abandoned me. Is that not the end of the story? What more do you need?

If she had been able to speak, her murmuring would have sounded pitiful beyond measure.

The silent sorrow that remained unvoiced tugged at Anankeus’s conscience until he unknowingly clenched his fist.

There was little fault in what the woman had said.

After all, the Princess of Belphegor was a prisoner of war.

A prisoner of war could expect one of three possible fates.

The first was to be of noble birth and, by some miracle, be returned to her homeland after a costly ransom had been successfully negotiated.

The second was to become a slave in the enemy’s land and lead a barren existence.

The third was to be executed early as a warning to others.

However, the man who fathered her had ruled out the first option.

With her ankle in such a state, she could not even be used for labour.

As she was useless even as a slave, the Princess of Belphegor should have been sent straight to the execution grounds.

Yet now, ironically, the situation had flipped.

The Holy Sovereign asked the woman, who had decided to die in obedience to her father’s orders, for information about Belphegor.

She was clearly loyal, but it was unclear who to whom her loyalty was directed.

“Why do you insist on following your father’s command?”

There was a strange, smouldering displeasure in his voice as he asked her.

No matter how necessary it was, he disliked having to keep this demon alive, and he disliked being given this task.

“Both your neck and ankle were severed with unsettling precision. Wasn’t it the Great Lord of Belphegor himself who did that to you… with his own hands?”

Instead of answering, the woman trembled, her fists clenched in powerlessness.

There could be no clearer affirmation than that.

“To do something fit for a traitor… to his own daughter. And yet he dressed you in silk, adorned you with rare jewels, and allowed you to indulge in fragrant, oil-soaked luxuries.”

The more Anankeus spoke, the more the woman’s body trembled faintly with pale shudders.

It was a cruel contradiction.

He had rendered her mute and crippled, unable to speak or walk properly, yet he had granted her It was a luxury rarely afforded in times of war.

Anankeus’s cold, golden eyes swept over her. The jewels that had once adorned her had been stripped away by Talata; yet the woman still wore the same golden silk dress that she had worn on the day of her capture in Gulgalta.

“Even if the Great Lord of Belphegor ordered your death, given how you were treated, you must have been a daughter he truly cherished.”

The Holy Sovereign called it abuse, but there must have been something more to it. That was the reason why the Great Lord of Belphegor had had no choice but to reduce his only daughter to such a state.

“This means that just by being the Princess of Belphegor, you possess more than enough value.”

— …No.

Though her body hung limp, the fiery spirit in her red eyes was unyielding. Those vividly bloodshot eyes looked as if they could read his heart in its entirety.

— That’s not the reason.

“Then what is it?”

— You want something else from me.

“You think I want something else from you?”

Red eyes met golden ones. Anankeus let out a crooked, mocking smile.

“So tell me—what is it you think I want?”

— My…

Her slowly parting lips left behind a particularly vivid afterimage.

— My body.

“……”

The soundless voice hit his eardrums like a slap.

Near the woman, who was in a trance-like state of ecstasy, a mystical blue butterfly fluttered its wings. The intoxicating scent wafting from her slowly engulfed the surroundings in a dizzying haze.

Yes, he should abandon reason and follow instinct alone. Using that scent as an excuse, he should have taken her right then and there.

— Do you think I don’t know? The way you look at me?

Their gazes locked. In the female’s crimson eyes, Anankeus was reflected. She recited—one by one—the emotions hidden deep in the man’s core.

— Greed…

Her slowly moving lips dragged forth a vile desire hidden somewhere deep within.

— Lust.

One word—

— Carnal craving.

Another word—

— Yearning.

It was as if he had swallowed a potent hallucinogen. He could no longer distinguish the shiver crawling down his spine as either self or other.

He didn’t even know where it all stemmed from.

— Thirst.

Her voiceless speech lingered in his ears like a hallucination.

The butterfly, as if enchanted, spread its wings.

It was like watching a red spider lily bloom in the underworld.

— Desire.

As she finished speaking, the pitch-black room was replaced by a sea of crimson spider lilies in full bloom.

The dazzling illusion that had begun with her words unfolded grandly before their eyes.

—It’s so clear how badly you want to have me.

And then it ended. It felt like a sweet vine slowly winding its way around his feet. As it spread across his entire body, Anankeus let out a faint, mocking chuckle.

What a laughable provocation!

Suddenly, Anankeus reached out his hand. A massive black shadow loomed over the woman.

He seized both her slender wrists with one hand and yanked them above her head.

Subdued in an instant, she squirmed ever so slightly.

“Your body,”

His deep voice cut off.

Anankeus dropped to one knee against the floor and expertly lowered himself over the woman’s form.

“Is that what you want?”

His rough hand moved gently, stroking her pale cheek.

Unlike his own hand—callused and hardened from a lifetime on the battlefield—the cheek of this precious daughter of Belphegor was unbearably soft.

So soft, in fact, it felt like she would melt right through the gaps between his fingers and vanish.

That softness—so unfitting—carried a sharp contradiction.

Yes—how could the cheek of a woman whose vocal cords had been torn and whose Achilles tendon had been severed… feel this soft?

“Truly, a fascinating thought.”

His low, resonant voice sent a shiver down her spine. Chronosa unconsciously drew in a sharp breath.

Goosebumps rose like a tremor across her skin—her body crying out desperately for reason amid the fever.

—I want… to be possessed.

Having only just awakened to lust, her body screamed in agony.

As long as he could quench the burning heat tearing through her, she would accept him as a friend or foe, family or stranger, even this dangerous man.

“…Yes, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

A strange murk clouded the golden gaze that had sunk low.

No, this was simply the natural instinct of a male animal encountering a female in heat.

The shadow of Anankeus fell upon Chronosa.

She could feel the unfamiliar weight of the male pressing down on her.

The sound of a belt being fastened and clothing brushing against each other filled the air.

The soft rustle of silk grazed her ears.

Anankeus pushed up the hem of her skirt with his knee.

His legs parted her soft thighs.

The heat of the rutting season burned hot, sharp and unmistakable, even through her winter clothes.

“To take you like this…”

As the strange tension caught in Chronosa’s throat and began to suffocate her, a low voice coiled sweetly around her.

“After all, the fact that His Holiness bestowed you upon me — surely that was what he intended.”

Anankeus stared quietly down at the woman.

Her breath was weak and gasping.

Her eyes were glazed with a restless glint.

Her clothes were in disarray.

Her pale thighs were exposed beneath the rolled-up hem of her skirt.

“To take you as I please.”

His large hand grasped the heated thigh.

Soft flesh filled his palm completely.

Thick fingers slowly glided upward across tender skin, reaching her waist.

“To indulge in you day and night.”

Her body, writhing in the carnal heat of the rut, thrashed in delirium.

Her relentlessly pounding heart spoke of viscous desire.

“To toy with you to my heart’s content.”

‘I want you. I need you. I know I’ll regret it later, but right now, I just want this man.’

“For the purpose of warming my bed, a woman in heat is just the right fit, after all.”

In that voice, for the briefest moment, a raw, clear desire flickered. This man was undoubtedly imagining it—
The waves of lust and heat this frail body beneath him would offer.

The fever of this fragile woman form.

The corner of the man’s lips twisted slightly as he looked down at Chronosa.

“Then I should simply give in to your temptation… and indulge in this body you claim is yearning for me.”