For a moment, she couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Then, in a sudden flash of realization, she tried to pull away instinctively. But the hand on her chin tightened, immobilizing her.

Sensing her attempt to escape, his lips became more aggressive, consuming her entirely.

The wound on her lip split open, sending a sharp sting through her. But beyond the pain, her senses were overwhelmed by his tongue, exploring her mouth with relentless determination, as if searching for something hidden, sweeping across every corner—even scraping the roof of her mouth.

Vienny shuddered, trying once again to pull back, but at some point, his arm had wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly in place.

Her hands pressed against his breastplate, solid and unyielding as stone, while his hold on her was so intense it drew a soft, breathy moan from her lips.

All she did was stand there, yet soon her breath was caught in her throat. Each time she tried to inhale, his hot tongue filled her mouth, throwing her breathing into disarray.

A faint moan slipped out between her desperate breaths. The pressure on her only intensified, and in a moment of panic, Vienny shifted her hands from pushing against his chest to clutching McClart’s arm. She felt as though she might lose her balance and fall backward completely if she didn’t hold onto something.

The instant her hand grasped the cold metal of his armor, the relentless force pressing on her seemed to falter, as if he realized she was holding onto him.

“Haa…”

The slight gap that opened between their lips allowed Vienny to gasp for air, finally managing to fill her lungs that had felt as though they were collapsing.

A tear that had been welling up—whether from pain or some other, undefined reason—finally spilled over, dampening her lashes until they fell heavily. Their lips still touched, but that was all; the overwhelming force from moments before had vanished as though it had been nothing but a dream.

Vienny blinked slowly, catching her breath, and cautiously looked up. In the blue eyes she met, a tumultuous, indescribable storm of emotions swirled.

“Ugh!”

Suddenly, she was shoved backward, stumbling as she fell. The arm that had supported her was gone in an instant. She landed hard, sitting awkwardly on the ground, confusion written on her face as she glanced up.

The dark armor loomed above, still imposing, but if she wasn’t mistaken, the man’s face was pale and strained, as if it were on the verge of breaking.

‘On the verge of collapse.’ She thought

A phrase that didn’t suit McClart at all came to Vienny’s mind, unbidden. She stared at him blankly, opening her mouth as if to speak, though no words formed—just a reflex to make some sound.

But at that moment, he pressed his lips together coldly and looked away. Without a word, he turned and left the tent, not even glancing back, leaving Vienny alone, sitting in the middle of the tent.

Her mind felt like a wasteland after a storm had swept through it. What on earth had just happened?

She touched her swollen lips, gently tracing them. This time, it wasn’t blood that stained her fingers, as usual, but saliva—someone else’s saliva. Saliva?

“…What is this?”

He had asked if she had made Pepin drink her blood, and she had said no. She told him her blood was poison, and he’d said they should test it. Then he drank her blood… so he did all of that to…

“What is this?”

Her fingers trembled. Her heart was still pounding, her eyes unfocused and lost in confusion.

“…What.”

Vienny, repeating the same word like a broken doll, stared at the tent’s tightly closed entrance.

Even when a soldier came to drag her back to the transport carriage, she still couldn’t think clearly. It wasn’t until she was shoved inside, the lock clicking into place, that she finally had a clear thought.

What had happened to McClart after drinking her blood?

* * *

It seemed he hadn’t turned into a demon.

Judging by the calm demeanor of the soldiers and the usual atmosphere outside, McClart appeared to have retained his sanity. Vienny lingered restlessly by the bars of the carriage, unable to sleep until late.

After tossing and turning several times on the uncomfortable seat, she eventually sat up. Now that she thought about it, while traveling by day in the carriage, she’d always spent her nights sleeping in McClart’s tent.

Even if it meant lying on the bare ground with only a blanket, the tent’s warmth had always allowed her to rest comfortably.

Sitting alone in the pitch-dark carriage, Vienny lifted her gaze toward the metal bars. The dark surroundings were quiet, yet the cries of various animals and insects made it feel restless. The nights in the carriage were bleak, cold, and unsettling.

He had tasted her blood, but only the trace left on her lips. Was that why it hadn’t affected him much?

Hugging her knees, Vienny rested her head against them. The transport carriage was parked far from McClart’s tent, so there was no chance she’d catch even a glimpse of him, accidentally or otherwise.

Despite spending the entire night sleepless, Vienny remained confined to the carriage. From snippets of conversation she overheard from passing soldiers, it seemed they planned to stay in place for a few more days to clear out any witches who might be hiding nearby before moving on.

She had stayed tense, expecting to be summoned again, yet spent the entire day cooped up in the carriage. Eventually, she began to wonder if she’d been forgotten. How else could they leave her alone for so long?

But then again, she wasn’t sure if being called out again would be a good thing. Even though she’d never been in a relationship with a man, she wasn’t so naive as to not understand what McClart had done to her.

The inquisitor had kissed her.

Even acknowledging it plainly, it still didn’t feel real. If his only purpose had been to taste her blood, the extent of their contact seemed excessive, almost as though drinking her blood was secondary. With Pepin, she might have expected such behavior, but she had never sensed any desire from McClart, which only made it more confusing. Honestly, given the circumstances, it was hard to interpret it as mere lust.

McClart had just returned from the hunt, clearly irritated.

Could it have been the excitement of the hunt that got to him? It wasn’t after he drank their blood, it was before, so losing his mind wasn’t the cause. It seemed the most plausible explanation.

Vienny spent the entire day trying to piece it all together on her own. And once again, she tossed and turned, enduring another sleepless night in the cramped transport carriage.