Liana froze under the blazing intensity of his gaze. She could see the muscles in Shed’s jaw tighten, hard as stone.

He grabbed her wrist tightly.

“Your Grace. Your Grace…!”

Shed ignored her protests and strode down the colonnade, dragging her in his wake.

His steps carried them into one of the guest chambers that had been prepared for the nobles. Once inside, he locked the door and threw Liana into the middle of the room.

“Ugh—Your Grace…!”

She fell to the floor, her maid’s dress disheveled, the hem of her skirt riding up to reveal her pale calves. Yes. Those were the same legs he had seen on the day he found her after she had been bitten by a dog. Now they were completely healed, with no trace of a scar remained.

Shed remembered that day. Even then, when he had seen her bloodied legs, had he not felt a flicker of desire?

His teeth clenched with a harsh grind.

“You—tell me the truth. Do you want my attention, or do you want to be rid of it?”

Why did she appear at those moments and in those places when he wanted to escape the most? And why did she disappear when he longed to hold her, only to reappear when he wanted to run away?

And why tonight, of all nights, did she appear soaked through, driving him to madness?

His blood boiled. Whether it was rage or arousal, he could no longer tell.

She staggered towards Liana, struggling to stand up straight.

The sight of her wet white nape and loose hair seemed to tempt him. Her intoxicating fragrance clouded his senses, filling his lungs and spreading to every nerve and fingertip.

“Did you put on perfume to tempt someone?”

The heat rising in his chest pressed on him until he could scarcely breathe. He pulled at the cravat strangling his throat, tearing it loose and casting it aside.

Swallowing that heady, overwhelming scent, Shed demanded an answer.

Liana never wore perfume.

Then was this fragrance for him? Or… for another?

His fevered thoughts scattered wildly.

And then, suddenly, he remembered—Dietrich.

Dietrich, who had asked after her in the banquet hall.

“Don’t tell me… you were planning to meet that bastard?”

It had irked him all along. From the moment they arrived in Faradel, that dull-witted fool had taken an interest in Liana, constantly following her around.

Liana had always been very kind to the priest. Even when he stammered awkwardly, she would listen patiently and smile as though he meant something to her.

Despite him being the priest who had condemned her family, she still dared to smile at him without fear.

She had never shown such a face to Shed Lester before. The thought alone set his insides ablaze.

“I don’t understand what you mean. I…”

Liana shook her head, but when she saw Shed’s ragged breaths, she faltered. It did not take long to realize that the heat in the air, the scent that clung to him, had nothing to do with perfume.

“No… it can’t be…”

She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with confusion. His figure overlapped with the memory of that night.

“The sedatives…!”

Her voice trembled with urgency, but Shed seemed not to hear.

“Viscount Vitel told me himself he gave you the new sedatives—”

“Did you speak so much with Vitel? Is that it…?”

Shed pressed closer to her.

Ah, yes! Dietrich. Eclace. The mere presence of any man around her made his blood boil. He wanted her locked away, untouchable — his alone.

Those sharp, gleaming eyes bore down on her.

Liana held her breath, feeling her chest tighten as his thick, heady scent engulfed her.

It was the same dark, sweet musk she had breathed in that night. It was so intense that it scorched her throat, robbed her of her strength, and set her chest on fire.

“No… don’t give in, Liana.”

She swallowed hard, shaking her head.

“Your Grace, you must think rationally. Take the medicine first—”

“D*mn it—the medicine’s long gone…!”

Shed tore off his jacket with a violent motion and threw it aside. A small vial rolled out of the inner pocket and landed at Liana’s feet.

The brown bottle was empty. Not a single pill remained.

He had done everything he could to suppress his desire. With no time to find water, he had washed them down with wine, hiding from prying eyes. He prayed that the consuming heat would be quenched and that fainting from the drug would be better than this fire.

For a while, it seemed to work. Out in the colonnade, the cold air cooled him and the fever burning his body ebbed.

But then Liana appeared. And in that moment, everything collapsed.

She stared at the empty vial.

“No… that can’t be. The medicine should have…”

“Seems it doesn’t work on a beast.”

His words came out in a bitter rasp as he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.

The small body in his arms trembled violently.

“Your Grace…!”

He was immediately consumed by searing self-loathing and indescribable ecstasy. Simply holding Liana was enough to steady his breathing and make him feel alive again. With Liana in his arms, he felt he could finally survive.

As he held her tightly, he finally understood why people called the Lupus beasts and why they were despised and reviled.

‘If I desire you this viciously, this foully—who could deny that it is filth?’

So Shed thought, as he pressed his base cravings against her pale skin.

At his touch, a dying ember within Liana’s chest flared weakly to life.

“No… Shed, please.”

She shut her eyes tightly and clung to the arms holding her firmly in place. His kiss was overwhelming and all-consuming, but never pure.

He unearthed feelings she had buried deep and discarded, dragging them into the open like refuse. Like a beast rummaging through rubbish and tearing apart old, filthy scraps long since discarded, he forced them into the light.

Then, with his kiss, he pieced those shredded fragments back together, revealing them one by one.

‘You love me too, don’t you?’

Could anything be more wretched?

Liana shoved him away, trembling, as unwanted feelings surged up under his touch.

“Your Grace.”

His burning lips left her neck. His eyes, pupils blown wide like those of a frenzied predator, locked onto hers, pulling her in and daring her to deny what existed between them.

He presented that reality to her, as if demanding that she accept it.

Liana bit her lip, her body shaking. Yes. She could not deny his proof.

She loved him.

Even torn and shredded, it was still love.

But it wasn’t just love. Those feelings, dragged from the refuse, bore every mark of having been torn and trampled on. No matter how carefully he mended them, they could never be pure or beautiful again. They could never go back to how they once were.

So her love remained cast to the ground, worthless, sullied and insignificant.

“What you need right now is not me, but your betrothed.”

Swallowing down the boiling storm inside her, Liana clung to reason. He had Giselle—his fiancée, the woman who would soon be his wife.

“I will fetch the High Priestess.”

With trembling composure, she pushed herself to her feet.

But then, a great force pulled her back. She was flung down onto the bed.

“Ugh…!”

Her back pressed against his bulging veins as his solid, oppressive body bore down on her, threatening to crush her beneath it.

“Your Grace…!”

“Does none of this trouble you?”

Shed muttered through clenched teeth, his hot breath grazing her cheek.

“Does it mean nothing to you… that I lie with another woman?”

He pressed his body harder and heavier against hers. He was clearly shaken by instinct and consumed by anger, but there was also something else on his face: Something unbearably sorrowful.

His chest rose and fell shallowly with each painful breath.

“…Then what do you want me to be?”

Liana’s voice cut through, steady despite her trembling.

He already had a fiancée. A beautiful, flawless woman. What role was left for her?

“Do you want me to be hurt?”

Her words were sharp as a blade.

Was she expected to grieve and cause herself pain over the thought of him and his fiancée sharing a bed? Was she supposed to be in pain every time she saw them together, or was reminded of her position?

Yes. Truthfully, she envied Giselle Marlhein.

She wanted to be like her—so pretty, so pure, so radiant, and bold besides. She coveted her place, her standing.

She was a proud and fearless lady, yet never grim. Clever and admired. She was a saint who was welcomed by all; she was never a demon who was feared by everyone.

But so what? Did envy and jealousy change anything?

Veins stood out starkly against her neck. He thought it was cowardly of her to keep invoking his fiancée.

In response to her excuses, he asked a question.

“…If I break off the engagement.”

The words pounded through the air, heavy as a heartbeat. Liana’s eyes trembled.

“If I end it—what then?”