It was a vivid and horrifying dream.

Beneath the cracked statue of the goddess, there was a tilted throne with one broken leg. On it sat her headless brother.

His crown, stained and dripping with blood, rolled across the floor, while all of Anita’s loved ones lay fallen before him.

Her mother’s hair had turned white overnight, and she had a sword through her stomach. At her dead brother’s feet, his wife knelt with her back pierced by countless spears.

A young prince, no older than her deceased brother had once been, clung to the hem of the woman’s blood-soaked skirt. Beside him, the little princess’s hand, which had been resting in his, was also lifeless.

Only one child remained alive. A thick, coarse noose hung around her neck.

“Aunt… Aunt Anita.”

The girl, her eyes wide with terror, looked up at her. She clawed at the rope around her throat, gasping.

“Please… help me, Aunt Anita. It hurts. It hurts so much.”

She had always followed Anita around, chirping that she wanted to be as beautiful as her aunt one day.

Her pale pink skirts would flutter as she ran and her laughter would spill from her lips, bright and pure. Now, that innocent laughter echoed painfully in Anita’s mind, vivid and cruel.

“S-save… please… hhh—”

The child’s breathing became faint and weak. But Anita couldn’t reach her. No matter how frantically she ran, her legs were fixed to the spot as if bound to the ground itself.

She screamed, her hands clawing at the air as she dragged herself through the darkness, trying to tear it open. Tears blurred her vision, and still she cried out, trying desperately to move forward.

How long had this nightmare been tormenting her?

When Anita finally jolted awake, she had lost all sense of reason.

There was no room left for fear, pain or shame. None of it mattered anymore. Whatever horror awaited her could not compare to her nightmare becoming reality.

“Your Highness! Your Highness, the Crown Princess!”

Anita burst out of her bedroom, unaware that it was still the middle of the night and that most of the palace was asleep. Several maids rushed after her, trying to stop her, but she shook them off with all her might.

Even through the thick layers of her nightgown, the cold bit into her skin. The long hem of her nightdress tangled around her ankles, and she shuddered violently at its touch as if it were a noose tightening around her niece’s throat.

So she kept running.

The flowing white cloth clung to her figure as she moved, her pale outline flickering in the moonlight. Even the stoic guards stationed outside the Crown Prince’s chambers looked momentarily stricken at the sight of her.

“I must see His Highness. Let me see him. Please let me see him!”

They dared not touch her, yet she seemed deaf to their words and heedless of all decorum. They exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to stop her, until the commotion drew Dian out.

Seeing her, Dian immediately bowed his head, but Anita moved towards him instead, her unfocused eyes darting wildly.

“Count.”

“…Your Highness.”

The Crown Prince’s loyal servant spoke in a strained voice. When he lowered his gaze, he saw her bare feet, which were red and frozen from the cold.

His breath caught. Unable to find the words, he glanced at the maids who had followed them and signalled for them to take their mistress away.

But before anyone could move, Anita grabbed his arm. The sudden contact made the narrow space between them vanish.

The damp scent of grass and a faint trace of something sweet and sharp filled the air. Dian froze, looking down at the woman who was pressed so close to him that he could feel the tremor of her breath.

Her long, pale hair brushed against his chin, fluttering in the wind and grazing his jaw with silken strands. Though she hadn’t touched him beyond that, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest — her breath was warm and quick.

Color flooded his ears. The man, as unyielding as stone, found himself paralyzed under her light grasp, her trembling hand holding him in place.

“Your Highness, come with me. Please?”

Renee caught up with them, her voice breaking as she sank to her knees beside her mistress. Her shoulders shook and tears spilled freely from her eyes.

“Please, Your Highness… stop. Let’s go back.”

“Let go, Renee.”

“…”

“Let go of me! I said, let go!”

Without hesitating, Anita pushed Renee away. Renee was someone she cherished more than anyone else. The maid froze, staring blankly at her mistress, who didn’t look back after pushing her aside.

Unconcerned, Anita tightened her trembling grip on Dian’s arm.

“Count.”

“…”

“Will you let me see His Highness the Crown Prince?”

“…”

“I know it’s late. Ah… I should apologize first. I’m sorry. I’ve caused you trouble.”

“…”

“But His Highness will understand. He—he said something to me once before. So it’s all right. It will be all right.”

“…”

“Even if he gets angry, I’ll take responsibility. I’ll make sure no one else gets dragged into it. So please…”

As she begged to be let in, terror and despair flickered across her face, which began to twist. She looked as though she feared what she was asking for. Dian watched her and made a silent decision.

He would not let her through those doors. Not tonight.

“Y-Your Highness…”

He began, but it was too late.

The servant who had gone inside returned pale-faced and trembling, and bowed to them both. When he spoke, Anita’s eyes shifted instantly from Dian to him.

“His Highness… the Crown Prince is expecting you.”

At those words, Anita froze. Her fingers slipped away from Dian’s arm. He stopped himself from reaching out instinctively, then curled his hand into a tight fist.

Without hesitating, Anita brushed past him. The servant guided her through the doors, which shut with a thud behind her moments later.

Dian only turned after the sound had echoed through the corridor, staring at the closed door.

Given all the commotion she had caused, one might have expected the Crown Prince to at least come out and ask what was happening.

Even without the servant’s report, anyone else would have come to investigate such a noise.

But Cedric did not move.

As always, his authority hung heavily and coldly over her; his treatment of his wife was no different to how one might command a subordinate — or a possession.

Even now, he made sure the hierarchy between them remained absolute.

‘This isn’t right.’

Dian’s fingers trembled slightly as he thought of the woman who was now passing through that door — the fragile, gentle woman who would soon be confronting her husband’s anger alone.

Then, he was struck by a wave of self-awareness.

‘What am I thinking?’

He bit his lip hard, pushing the forbidden thought back into the shadows where it belonged.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

He repeated the thought inwardly: ‘This is wrong.’

Everything about this night was wrong: Every breath, every shadow, every sound. And yet, among all those wrongs, the greatest of them all was himself.

··· ✦ ···

His skin prickled as though every hair on his body were standing on end. A rush of emotion surged through him, too fierce and intoxicating to bear. His hands tingled and his pulse throbbed with something close to ecstasy — it was as if he had taken a drug.

Cedric felt an overwhelming sense of triumph, which he barely managed to hide behind a calm expression. It was ridiculous — he mocked himself. All this, over a single woman.

She seemed half his size as she stood before him, her hands trembling. Yet his mouth curved upwards, unable to suppress that faint, cruel smile.

Displaying that vulgar sense of superiority he so often displayed, he drank in the sight of her, lowering his gaze to where her small hand quivered, almost touching him.

‘Foolish thing.’

His throat was dry. Cedric swallowed hard; the hunger rising within him was almost painful. Those helpless fingers, unable to span even a hand’s breadth, made him want to devour them one by one.

Finally, he reached out and lifted her chin with a single finger.

“What is it?”

His curiosity didn’t make him ask. He already knew what had driven her there in the middle of the night, fleeing like a frightened animal.

She had come to obey his orders. Just as he’d said she would. Barefoot. Dishevelled. Trembling.

And that was enough. Whatever her reason, her presence alone was a victory. After ten sleepless nights and days of tension and frustration, he could finally find peace.

If she hadn’t come tonight, he would have gone to her himself by tomorrow. But she had come — just when his thirst had reached its peak.

As crude as it was to think so, the feeling was exquisite.

“Your Highness… p-please, help me. I’ll… I’ll do as you said before… I’ll do it, I swear—”

Unusually patient, Cedric didn’t reprimand her for stammering. Instead, he watched her intently, relishing the sight of what would soon be his again.

His gaze slid over her deliberately and slowly, thick, heavy and almost tactile. Anita’s lips trembled beneath his gaze.

“Anita.”

Her lips were pale and dry, and the color had drained from her face due to her tears. Yet they looked unbearably tempting — soft and fragile, begging to be bitten.

Still holding her chin in one hand, Cedric brushed his thumb across her lips and murmured.

“That’s hardly the posture of someone asking for a favor. Did I not tell you before? I prefer women who know how to plead sweetly.”

The strange contrast of textures beneath his fingertips — rough yet soft — made Cedric’s pulse quicken. Still, he restrained himself. Satisfaction always tasted sweeter after restraint.

So, rather than giving in to the hunger rising within him, he chose to be cruel. He lashed out at her with sharp, deliberate words.

“Coming here looking like that…”

The first thing he noticed was what she was wearing. Although not sheer, the nightdress draped over Anita’s body hinted at the curves beneath its fine, flowing fabric. It clung softly to her body, whispering against her skin — suggestive and dangerous.

The low neckline exposed her slender, beautiful neck. Her unbound br*asts curved perfectly beneath the thin cloth.

Lower still, the subtle dip of her stomach and the lines that followed were too obscene to reveal to any man.

Cedric’s mood plummeted. His desire remained, burning hot, but now fury seethed just beneath it, cold and sharp as a blade of ice.

‘How many men have seen her like this?’

He counted every knight and servant stationed outside his chambers in a heartbeat, and rage twisted in his gut.

He clenched his teeth. His dark eyes gleamed as he glared at the woman before him. The faint tremor in Anita’s shoulders made her look like a criminal awaiting sentencing.

“If you’re going to offer yourself, you might as well lift your skirts properly. That high—yes, that might be worth seeing.”

‘An ignorant fool who doesn’t even know her place.’

‘Then she should be treated as one.’

Cedric roughly released her chin and pressed a finger into her br*ast. She gasped in pain and tried to step back, but he seized her by the waist and prevented her from retreating.

Then, with a sharp jerk of his chin, he gave a command.

“Lift it.”

She hesitated and trembled, but obeyed. She clutched the hem of her nightdress with her hands and raised it just enough to bare her ankles.

Cedric didn’t rush her. He only sighed, exhaling short and impatiently.

Even that small sound made Anita flinch. She fumbled, hastily pulling the thin fabric higher and higher.

The gown rose to her waist, revealing her long, pale legs. The fallen folds of cloth barely covered what lay between them.

‘D*mn it.’

Cedric muttered a quiet curse under his breath and snatched the hem from her hands in one swift motion.