Akan suddenly felt like crying. If he hadn’t forgotten how, he thought he surely would have. Instead of the tears he could not shed, Akan kissed away the tears that streamed from Robellia’s eyes.

He even brushed away the dew that clung to the tips of her eyelashes. Her lips were no longer wet with tears. Then Akan realised he didn’t want her to cry anymore. Even though he knew that most of the tears she had shed were probably because of him.

His lips moved along her tear-stained cheeks, pressing gently against her skin. Robellia fought back the tears that threatened to rise again, as if her thawed heart was too full to hold them.

Fingertips traced the slender line of her neck before his lips followed, pressing gently against the same spot. Fortunately, there were no visible marks where he had once gripped her throat so tightly.

“Haa…”

As Akan’s lips brushed the hollow of her collarbone, Robellia’s chest rose and fell slightly. Her frail body had not yet regained much weight, even after a relatively comfortable life.

Akan’s palm slid up her leg, lifting the hem of her nightgown with a gentle, deliberate motion. Robellia instinctively turned inwards, her neck and shoulders trembling slightly as Akan continued to plant soft kisses on them.

Akan wasn’t trying to ignite passion in Robellia’s already battered body and heart. From the beginning, he had never known how to express emotions through intimate touches. He was still impulsive and everything he did now came purely from his sincerity – if only for that fleeting moment.

As the nightgown slid over her chest, Robellia naturally raised her upper body, allowing Akan to pull the garment over her head. Far from showing fear, Robellia offered a shy smile, her face tinged with a faint blush.

Of course, not everything Akan had done to her had disappeared without a trace. Robellia’s bare, pale skin bore faint scars – reminders of the past. Even in the dim light, the thin, long marks of old whippings stood out, lighter than the rest of her skin, a silent testament to the pain she had endured.

What would today’s Robellia think about how these scars came to be? Every time Akan gently pressed his lips to one of them, Robellia let out a soft, shallow breath.

“Akan… you know…”

Her voice drew Akan’s gaze to her face. Looking at him shyly, Robellia hesitated for a moment before tapping him lightly on the shoulder with her fingertips.

When Akan gave her a puzzled look, Robellia moved her hand tentatively. Her fingers brushed the knot at the collar of his shirt, and the moment she touched it, Akan jumped and sat up abruptly. Startled by his reaction, Robellia instinctively sat up as well.

The warmth they had shared only moments before vanished like a soap bubble. Robellia, her eyes wide with confusion, looked flustered, while Akan’s face betrayed his own nervousness. He fidgeted with the tight collar of his shirt, his movements almost compulsive.

After all, a dream was only an illusion. It could never become reality, not even for a single day. Robellia bowed her head deeply, her voice soft and apologetic.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Akan tried to speak as calmly as possible, but what came out was a strained voice, as if his throat had been squeezed by invisible hands. Robellia lowered her head even further, her disappointment obvious even though her face was hard to see. Akan fought to keep his heart from pounding.

“I’m not angry.”

The words were forced out, but they weren’t enough to serve as a proper explanation. Robellia’s expression grew increasingly uncertain, as if she didn’t know what to do.

Even after ascending the throne, Akan had never allowed anyone to look after his clothes. He had avoided mirrors altogether, never looked at his own body. Because he’d never tried, he hadn’t realised that he still carried so much unresolved fear and hesitation. The heavy exhalation from his lips seemed to weigh down the air around them.

“I… just want to be closer to you…”

“It’s not your fault.”

But Robellia’s dejected face didn’t lighten. The surreal escape they had shared was now interrupted by an abrupt and unavoidable dose of reality.

Akan let out a long sigh and steadied himself, his heavy fingers moving to undo the knot at his collar. Only then did Robellia cautiously raise her eyes. Akan avoided her gaze, concentrating solely on the task of undoing the buttons.

As the top button was undone, Robellia gasped involuntarily, the sound escaping before she could stop herself. Embarrassed, she quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Akan kept his eyes on the edge of the bed as he worked his way down, unbuttoning each button with deliberate care.

As more of his chest was exposed, Robellia’s wide eyes began to fill with shock. When his trembling hands reached the last button on his lower abdomen, she could no longer hold back and abruptly pulled open the front of his shirt.

“What… what is all this?”

Tears streamed from Robellia’s eyes, dripping steadily down her chin. The sight of Akan’s body was nothing short of devastating.

His skin was a tapestry of scars that went far beyond mere discolouration. Raised, jagged marks where his flesh had torn and healed unevenly stood out starkly against his pale skin. Thick, long scars ran like writhing worms across his body, varying in length and depth, evidence of wounds inflicted over many years. There was no part of him untouched by the torment he had endured.

Stabbed and slashed as if it were a joke, such things had been commonplace. The sunken and hollow scars filled the spaces between them. From his left shoulder to his chest, a patch of contracted burn scars stretched wide, and at the sight of it, a sob finally escaped Robellia’s lips.

“Ah… ah…”

Her trembling fingers traced the disfigured marks, as if she could not believe what she was seeing. Akan pulled her close, letting her lean against his shoulder. Her hot tears spilled over his chest, running down the layers of scars that had accumulated over time.

Akan found it almost absurd – ridiculous even – that there was still someone alive who would cry over the state of his body. And that someone was Robellia. A hollow breath escaped his lips.

“Don’t look. It’s disgusting.”

In the end, it was Akan who offered comfort. He ran his hand slowly down Robellia’s bare back, a touch meant to soothe.

He had sworn to repay her, but he wasn’t sure he had done even a fraction of that. Robellia wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could. The strange texture of his scarred skin pressed against her cheek, an undeniable reminder of what couldn’t be undone, no matter what they did.

Robellia buried her face in Akan’s chest, planting soft kisses on his scars. She thought she finally understood why he had done the same before. No matter how horrible the memories associated with those scars, she wanted to soften them just a little.

“Don’t hurt anymore…”

“I’m not in pain. Just… don’t look.”

If she were to kiss every scar hidden across his skin, it would take until sunrise. Akan tilted her chin up and captured her lips again.

As their damp lips met, Robellia’s parted slightly, inviting him in. The tentative kisses, careful not to do any harm, gradually deepened. There was an aching desire to go deeper, to hold on tighter. They had spent enough time consumed by resentment and regret for their past – this moment was free of it.

Their bare skin pressed against each other, stealing warmth from each other. The hearts that had pounded in surprise now beat for a very different reason, echoing with an intensity that neither could ignore.

Robellia slid the shirt from Akan’s shoulders, her fingers tracing the scars on his back. Akan, feeling the soft curve of her br*asts pressed against his firm chest, ran his palms slowly and repeatedly from her sides to her hips. Though their desire burned intensely, their actions were unhurried, as if they were carving each moment deep into their hearts.

“Hmph…….”

A hand slid up her chest and cupped one of her br*asts. Robellia’s sighs, almost like soft moans, were completely swallowed by Akan’s mouth.

Her thin body, with hardly any flesh left to soften her frame, felt delicate and the soft mound of her br*ast yielded easily to his touch. Akan had touched her there once before, but it had been purely out of physical desire and he had been disgusted by his own uncontrollable urges. But now it all felt natural, inevitable, as if it was meant to be.