The Queen Covets the Foreigner

“I’m leaving this country tomorrow—and I won’t be coming back.”

The foreigner said goodbye to the dancer and pressed his lips to hers.
Between her lips, left defenseless, a breath that was not her own slipped in.
His gaze, fixed on her wide, startled eyes, burned with the dry heat of a midday desert.

“The thing I truly wanted, after coming to this country, was you.”

Leaving behind heat and a confession, the foreigner turned away.
The dancer could not stop him, because she was hiding a truth she could never confess.

But that night, whether by chance or fate, that night they spent together, the foreigner began to suspect the dancer’s identity.
That she was the beautiful queen of the Kingdom of Delba.

“What do you want?”
“You already know.”
“…I can’t give you that. Not that.”

Irien lowered her gaze. She was the queen of this country. She had to choose whom to seat beside her for the sake of the nation’s benefit.

“…Ah. I didn’t mean it for you to make that kind of expression.”

Suddenly, a warm presence touched her face.
When Irene opened her eyes in surprise,
she saw the man leaning toward her, having risen from his seat.
A large hand—big enough to cover her entire face—gently brushed her cheek.

“Of course you’re not a bargaining chip. What I want is time.”
“…Time?”
“Yes. Time to meet you.”

Meeting her widened eyes, Usser broke into a grin.

“Even better if it’s just the two of us.”