When they returned home at noon, her mother would shake the dirt off the herbs and hang them out to dry, opening all the wooden windows. She always said that sunlight had to fill the house during the day so that evil spirits couldn’t enter at night. Meanwhile, Malyn would shake off her apron and go down to the cave beneath the hut to fetch the pork her mother had salted and stored. If Malyn begged for pork soup that day, her mother would smile, cut off a small piece of pork and tell her to put the rest of the meat back.

Her mother would then put an old pot on the stove and add the pork. Freshly dug potatoes and the plump, lively roots of the muscari flowers that hadn’t yet bloomed, together with a little butter, would soon begin to give off a delicious aroma. As the ingredients began to brown and Malyn’s stomach growled, her mother poured water into the pot. Sometimes she added some cheap wine from the village. In the end, the two of them sat down to a warm pork soup for dinner.

“She wasn’t a witch.”

Malyn swallowed those words. It had been such a normal, uneventful life. Now it was so distant that the memories had sunk deep and hardly came to mind.

“But I suppose someone might think that.”

As she walked down the rocky hill, Malyn thought about the apron he had tried to take off. The apron he had stepped on, crumpled and tried to tear apart.

The one who had wanted to rip that apron was the man now holding her hands.

Thinking about it made Malyn feel a little better. Even if her mother’s words about the apron protecting her hadn’t come true, at least it had led her to meet someone.

* * *

Alexis cried again, ruining the king’s mood. Malyn was called to the king and tried her best to please him, but for some trivial reason he struck her again. It had long since gone beyond a simple slap on the backside or a firm grip on her chest.

The problem was that the king had made a mistake. His palm was thick and hard, and just a slap from him made Malyn’s mouth bleed. And that morning, the king had forgotten to take the ring off his finger. Malyn’s cheek was badly torn, and in the shock she stumbled and bit her tongue. When the king saw Malyn covered in blood, he seemed a little surprised. He sent her away, and Layla, seeing her in such a state, gritted her teeth.

But Malyn smiled showing her bloodied mouth. Layla frowned. Malyn’s posture was that of a mischievous child showing off the food she had chewed, but her mouth was far from a child’s playful mess.

“After you escape, you can disguise yourself as a doctor and enter the castle. Then we can live here happily for a long time, right?”

In Malyn’s room, the smell of ointment had long since been replaced by a stronger, more unpleasant scent. Every time Layla visited, the old doctor at Veldam Castle would click his tongue and hand over the ointment with a disapproving look.

“I don’t have the skills to handle medicine.”

“That’s all right, I know. That doctor doesn’t seem very good either.”

Layla wiped her cheek with a wet towel and applied the ointment. Malyn frowned as it was applied to her cheek. Just because she was being playful didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“It stings…”

“Just a little more, hold on.”

Layla’s face grew heavy. He tried his best not to show it in front of Malyn, but every time something like this happened, it was inevitable that his heart would feel tight.

“As soon as you’ve finished applying the ointment, kiss me, huh?”

“Kiss me on my still blistered lips.”

“If you don’t want to, I won’t take that ointment.”

Malyn said playfully. Layla, as if she had no choice, smiled weakly and kissed her. The gentle kiss made Malyn’s eyes widen.

“You haven’t finished applying the medicine and you’ve already kissed me?”

“The ointment will now taste sweet when it gets in your mouth.”

“Ah, you sly one.”

A small, playful laugh spread between them. Then their lips met and their breathing quickened. Layla shook his head, but Malyn pulled him closer. In the end, Malyn lay face down on the bed while Layla held her hips, successfully making her pant like an eager dog.

As the morning sunlight filled the room after dawn, Malyn let out a satisfied sigh and collapsed onto his side. Unlike her, whose face still bore traces of desire, Layla quickly regained a serene expression. He kissed the top of Malyn’s br*ast, then wiped the s*men that had dripped onto the blanket with a damp towel.

“It seems I’ll have to bear your child.”

“What do you mean?”

Malyn smiled mischievously.

“If I pretend to be pregnant with the king’s child and give birth to your baby, the king will surely take off his mask the moment he hears the baby cry, right? And then he’ll die immediately…”

She seemed to have completely forgotten the curse that anyone who saw the King’s face would cough up blood and die.

Layla slipped his hand under her cheek to keep it from rubbing against the blanket, then lay down beside her, facing her.

“For that, the king would have to be completely drunk, but that’s not exactly easy…”

The king continued to moan from the oral s*x Malyn was giving him. Did he really not want a child? Malyn had tried everything to get the king to come inside her, but it wasn’t easy. He drank like a horse and wouldn’t eat with her. It wasn’t just with Malyn – at feasts or dinners he rarely tried to eat, as if moving his mouth with his mask was too much trouble.

“If I could only bear his child once, just once…”

As she said this, Malyn’s eyes widened in sudden realisation. Startled by her reaction, Layla instinctively wrapped his arms around her. Malyn muttered under her breath.

“But what if, by some terrible luck, I end up carrying his child?”

“You.”

“Then I’d be bound to him forever, trapped as his slave…”

Malyn shuddered, repulsed by the thought. Although a pang of frustration tightened in Layla’s chest, he quietly wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Only after a long silence did Malyn murmur again.

“It’s warm.”

“Shall I make the fire bigger?”

“No, it’s alright. Spring is coming soon. Hmm, come to think of it…”

Malyn looked up at Layla with a mischievous smile. It was unusual. Her smiles were never simply beautiful, enchanting, or bright. They were more fittingly described as sly, mischievous, or with a hint of something wicked in mind, yet whenever she smiled like that, Layla felt his breath catch. It wasn’t out of discomfort or fear. His heart would race, and he’d feel an overwhelming urge to hold her tightly, as if he might crush her.

Layla was firmly convinced that this twisted feeling was love. In his short life, born as a boy and living under the name Layla, he had never known tenderness, yearning, or nobility, so he was certain that the love he had found was like this.

And yet, the woman in his arms felt precious and dear to him.

“What were you thinking about while sleeping next to me?”

“…Next to you?”

“That night, you know.”

She was referring to the day Layla stayed up all night, borrowed a cloak from a knight and returned to her room. She lay down on a blanket on the stone floor, but Malyn moved her and let her sleep in her bed.

“I should be the one to ask. What were you thinking?”

“Well… just…”

Malyn stretched out lazily, laughing softly.