Side Story 1.3

The pitch-black night sky began to brighten with the faint light of dawn.  

It was nearly morning, but…  

“Hah… ah, ha…”  

The night in the Crown Prince’s Palace showed no sign of ending.  

Dark blue hair lay scattered messily across the bed, and pale shoulders, now marked with red bite marks, trembled slightly.  

‘What time… is it now…?’  

Her dazed eyes, muddled from repeatedly fainting and waking, rolled weakly.  

But before she could even check the time, her prone body, which had been swaying powerlessly, was turned onto its side.  

When her knees were lifted, her complexion turned pale.  

“W-wait… ah!”  

“Shh…”  

Before she could protest, the rigid length buried inside her pressed even deeper.  

Carnier buried her forehead into the bed, gasping as she struggled with the pressure she still wasn’t accustomed to, despite enduring it all night.  

Behind her, Servante sank his teeth into her slender neck, already covered in red marks.  

Their sweat-soaked hair clung to their temples, brushing against each other.  

From late evening until now, he hadn’t let her go.  

At first, Carnier had eagerly responded, but as her stamina waned, she grew exhausted.  

‘When… will this end…?’  

She had fainted twice already during the ordeal.  

Yet every time she woke, he was still exploring her body.  

Even when she cried, saying she was too tired, he had kindly told her, ‘If you’re struggling, take a break.’

“Servante… please… stop…”  

Carnier mumbled into the bed, her voice barely audible.  

But when his hand slipped between her parted legs, her spine tingled.  

Startled, she quickly turned her head to look back.  

“W-wait, ah! Not there…!”  

“Shh.”  

He made a soothing sound, but his hand didn’t stop.  

His shameless fingers gently caressed her already swollen nub while the length inside her moved in slow, deliberate circles.  

“Hah… ah…!”  

Carnier let out a half-sob, half-moan.  

Her overstimulated body, both aching and tingling with sensation, couldn’t handle the mix of pleasure and exhaustion.  

“Please… I can’t… anymore…”  

“You can.”  

Having spent the night making up for their previously brief encounters, he had come to know her body intimately.  

His natural talent for learning and understanding extended even to this.  

Throughout the night, Carnier had been helplessly swept away by the weaknesses he discovered in her—and those he revealed to her.  

As his fingers, which had been gently stroking, suddenly applied pressure, her sensitive nub throbbed sharply.  

The resulting contractions gripped him tightly, as if her body didn’t want to let go.  

“Hah… ahhh…!”  

In the end, Carnier threw her head back, shaking it as she cl*maxed.  

A warm, trickling stream escaped her, wetting his hand and the sheets beneath them.  

At that moment, as if he had been waiting for it, he thrust deeply into her.  

“Ah…!”  

With a wet sound, her head tilted back further.  

A spurt of liquid shot out, scattering beyond the bed, as sharp waves of pleasure coursed through her inside and out.  

“Ah…”  

And as she reached her peak, so did he, unable to hold back any longer.  

Biting his lip, he steadied his breathing before carefully lowering her leg.  

“See? You can do it.”  

“……”  

“Oh dear.”  

When no response came, he realized her eyes had fluttered shut once again.  

Servante pressed a kiss to her rounded shoulder before slowly withdrawing.  

“…Mm.”  

Though she flinched slightly as he pulled out, she didn’t wake, utterly drained.  

He gently laid her down in a more comfortable position.  

Seeing his seed trickling from between her legs, he paused briefly.  

His eyes flickered with heat, but he quickly closed them, reigning in his thoughts.  

‘…This is enough.’  

Any more, and she might wake up crying.  

Servante pulled a crumpled sheet over her body and rose from the bed, draping a gown over himself.  

Unlike Carnier, who had passed out from exhaustion, his mind was unusually clear.  

Pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table, he gazed silently at her sleeping form.  

Through the window, the faint light of dawn began to seep in, casting a soft glow over the sheets. His gaze lingered on her peacefully sleeping face beneath them.  

“……”  

It was a sight both unfamiliar and yet one he would now greet every morning.  

For some reason, even as he saw and felt it, it didn’t feel real.  

Servante sat at the edge of the bed, brushing aside her tousled hair.  

At the sudden touch, her brow furrowed slightly, but soon relaxed, as if she instinctively recognized his hand even in her sleep.  

“…Ha.”  

For a long time, he simply watched her sleeping face.  

Until the sky grew brighter, and the morning sunlight began to softly fill the room.  

He continued to watch.  

* * *

A bright morning.  

The Emperor of the great Asherit Empire looked utterly baffled as he asked, 

“What exactly did you do?”  

Standing before him, Servante, ever the epitome of elegance and perfection, replied once again, 

“She seemed exhausted, so I allowed her to board the train first, Your Majesty.”  

“……”  

The Imperial Family, gathered in the hall to bid farewell to the Crown Prince and Princess on their journey, as well as the attending nobles, all broke into a cold sweat.  

‘How can he say something like that so confidently…!’  

It was the first morning since Carnier had become the Crown Princess.  

As was customary, she should have greeted the Emperor, offered her thanks, and exchanged farewells with those who had come to see her off.  

But the main figure of the occasion was nowhere to be seen, and the Crown Prince—normally praised as the perfect heir—was now openly defending her absence, something he had never done before.  

Even the Duke of Raymore, Carnier’s elder brother, silently rubbed his forehead in exasperation as the Emperor slowly spoke again.  

“Well, I suppose we’ll have a grandchild in about nine months.”  

“Cough!”  

“Haha… ha…”  

While some reacted with awkward embarrassment, most sighed in relief.  

This was the Emperor’s way of saying he would overlook the Crown Prince and Princess’s breach of decorum.  

But the Emperor’s words were far from mere jest.  

“I was concerned when the Crown Prince’s marriage was delayed beyond schedule, but it seems my worries were unnecessary.”  

“I am deeply grateful, Your Majesty.”  

“It is a good thing. Just as I find great comfort in having the Crown Prince, I hope the Crown Prince will also find stability soon.”  

“I will keep your words in mind, Your Majesty.”  

Servante bowed his head respectfully, though his gaze turned cold.  

To the untrained ear, the Emperor’s words might have sounded like a blessing, but the true meaning was clear.  

‘He’s telling me not to rest easy until I’ve secured an heir.’  

The presence of the consort and even his infant half-brother at such a gathering added weight to the Emperor’s implication.  

Yet Servante maintained a flawless smile, showing no sign of displeasure.  

The Emperor’s gaze, as he looked at his inscrutable son, was equally meaningful.  

“It seems the palace will be quieter without the Crown Prince around to nag me.”  

“As I’ve always said, excessive drinking is harmful to your health, Your Majesty.”  

“Ah, you never miss a chance to lecture me.”  

Even the friendly banter and humor between them were entirely superficial.  

This was how it had always been between Servante and the Emperor.  

Though they shared the same blood, their relationship was colder than that of strangers.  

“Duke Raymore, I entrust His Majesty’s safety to you during my absence. …Especially the wine bottles entering his chambers.”  

“Ah, pay no heed to the Crown Prince’s words. Duke, you are my sword, are you not?”  

Caught between the Emperor and the Crown Prince’s playful remarks, the Duke of Raymore could only offer an awkward smile.  

Beside him, his wife, Aisha, spoke up on his behalf.  

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, please don’t trouble him too much.”  

“Oh dear, I misspoke. The Duke is not my sword, but the Duchess’s sword, it seems. So, I suppose I only need her permission, then?”  

The Emperor burst into laughter, gesturing dismissively.  

“Well then, Crown Prince, have a safe journey. A train trip, how marvelous the times have become…”  

As the Emperor turned to leave, the consort followed closely behind, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.  

It was clear to anyone that she intended to whisper all manner of grievances in the Crown Prince’s absence.  

Trailing behind her, carrying their son, were the Duke and Duchess of Raymore.  

While the Duchess offered a polite bow, the Duke and Servante exchanged a lingering glance.  

Before long, however, the crowd of nobles following the Emperor blocked their view of each other.  

Watching the retreating figures of the Emperor’s party, Servante finally turned away.  

“Is Her Highness safely aboard?”  

“Yes, we just received word.”  

“Good. Let’s go.”  

With that brief exchange with Luca, Servante briskly made his way to the train station, where his beloved wife awaited him.  

Thus began their sweet honeymoon.