Tears began to stream down Carlo’s face, as though all the emotions he had been holding back had finally broken free.

Laila clung to him, her breathing ragged.

“I love you, Laila.”

“…Then promise me—when I return victorious from the war, you’ll love only me with that heart.”

If that was what it took to make their love real, Laila was willing to do anything. Even if it meant killing someone.

“I’m not asking you to give up your revenge. If I go to war, the duke will come to trust you. Then you won’t have to use Lady Roselina anymore.”

All Carlo really needed was the duke’s trust. Only then could he uncover the truth behind the poisoning.

“This is the end of it, isn’t it? Once you find the man who delivered the poison through the duke, you’ll finally have your revenge.”

“Yes. This is the last time.”

Carlo spoke softly and took Laila’s hand. Her fingers were cold, and he gently covered them with his own, as if to warm them. His tears had already dried.

“So promise me. When I return from war, you’ll be mine.”

“I promise.”

At last, she had gained everything—though only after giving everything up.

‘That’s enough. As long as you’re here beside me, that’s all I need.’

It didn’t matter anymore if she never found her memories, forgot her past or abandoned her beliefs and took lives with her own hands.

Laila reached out and wrapped her arms around Carlo’s neck. Clinging to him felt like clinging to the last part of herself, but what did it matter? She had finally won the heart she had longed for.

And so, Laila smiled.

“I love you.”

The low voice brushing against her ear, the soft whisper — it felt like balm, soothing the raw wounds in her heart.

She had imagined this moment countless times: exchanging sweet words and resting in his arms. Now, nestled against his chest, she allowed herself to breathe in his warmth. Another hell—the war—awaited her soon enough. But for now, she wanted to think of nothing else.

“Were you in the training grounds this whole time?”

Carlo asked, his hands gently brushing over her chilled skin. The night air had made her body icy to the touch.

“Yeah.”

“You’re freezing.”

Carlo pulled her closer, as if to share his warmth with her. For a long moment, he said nothing.

“…Laila, did you really go outside dressed like this?”

“Yeah.”

Her casual answer made his usually composed brow crease sharply.

“It was dawn anyway—no one was around. And the robe’s long enough, so it’s fine.”

“The robe’s long enough, so it’s fine?”

Something in him snapped. Carlo tugged lightly at the hem of her robe, and the fabric began to fall open.

“Carlo, what are you doing?”

“You don’t care? Someone might’ve seen you like this.”

His gaze had turned rough, his tone darker than before. He didn’t release the robe.

Laila hastily tried to pull it closed, but it was already too late—the front had fallen open, baring her skin to the cold air.

“What’s fine about this? With just a little pull, I could take it off.”

“Stop…”

“Do you really want me to stop?”

It was a provocation. Carlo tightened his grip, his eyes tracing her form as though testing her resolve and his own.

He knew that Laila could never refuse him when he looked at her with those longing eyes, yet he made no effort to hide the restless desire burning within him.

“No matter how brilliant a knight you may be, this is infuriating.”

“Ugh…”

Carlo pulled Laila’s waist firmly against him and sank his teeth into her nape. Pressed so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and his lips, teasing as if to scold her, forced a breathy, trembling m*an from her throat.

“C–Carlo…”

“Don’t ever go out dressed like this again.”

His hand slid brazenly over the thin gown, every touch searing her skin as though it were on fire. Trapped in his gaze, Laila could neither push him away nor draw him closer.

“Answer me.”

Even as he devoured her lips without pause, Carlo demanded her reply. He was a cruel, relentless man. Barely able to endure him, Laila gave a faint nod, and at that, he only grew more ferocious.

“Mmph—”

Kissing her with such force her neck bent back, Carlo moved as though he had lost all reason. Her lower lip was caught and sucked before she had time to protest, and through the parted gap his tongue invaded deeply.

“C–Carlo…!”

Like a helpless prey trembling before a predator, Laila shivered as Carlo stroked her back, giving in wholly to his instincts. The kiss grew deeper, his breathing quickened, and even as his hand swept down her body, he refused to release her reddened lips.

“Mm… ah—”

The m*an that slipped out when their mouths parted only sharpened Carlo’s primal urge—an overwhelming instinct to claim every part of her at once.

When he pushed her down, Laila toppled onto the bed, trapped beneath him.

“W–wait…”

Carlo was little different from a beast. Pressing his body against hers, he moved slowly, as though intent on taking everything from her. Startled by the hand that seized her br*ast, Laila twisted away, but Carlo would not allow it. His touch lingered, relentless, as his eyes locked on her.

“Carlo…!”

At her desperate cry, he finally forced out words, his voice rough.

“If you don’t want this, say it. Tell me to stop.”

It was the last shred of sanity he had left. His ragged breathing was intoxicating and the fierce, almost feral desire blazing in his eyes was overwhelming.

Although his expression suggested that he had already stripped her bare and taken her in his arms, Carlo fought to control himself.

How could she possibly refuse him?

‘This is the first time I have truly touched you.’

Laila could never deny him. Curling a hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him down and captured his swollen lips in a decisive kiss.

After that, everything unfolded swiftly. Their breaths mingled as the kiss deepened, their tongues entwining in a feverish exchange.

Her loosely fastened gown slipped from her body, and the moment Carlo saw her n*ked, a low growl escaped him. Her slender figure was strong and every curve was breathtakingly beautiful. Seeing the fine down still visible against her pale skin, he forgot everything else and surrendered himself entirely to the moment.

Carlo lowered her onto the bed and drank in the sight of her.

“I love you, Laila.”

“I… I love you too. Ah—!”

His kisses trailed from her throat downward. Alarmed at how far he was going, she tried to hold him back, but Carlo brushed her hands aside and lowered his head further.

“Ah!”

A flash of light exploded behind her eyes, causing her back to arch. Carlo moved with raw instinct, as if something inside him had been set alight.

The overwhelming sensations enveloping her body, the shameless sounds of friction and Carlo’s increasingly ragged breathing were unbearably intoxicating — so much so that tears welled in her eyes.

“Laila… are you crying?”

Carlo froze when he heard Laila’s soft sobs. At first, he thought she was in pain; a look of guilt crossed his face. However, when he saw her tear-streaked cheeks and dazed eyes, a faint, helpless smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m sorry. I just… can’t stop. You’re too beautiful—it breaks me.”

“…Don’t stop.”

The words left her trembling lips before she had even realized. In that instant, something in Carlo unraveled completely. The night stretched on in silence, their emotions colliding desperately, recklessly and unrestrainedly.

When dawn came, the outside world moved on as if nothing had changed.

***

News of Laila, Carlo Siren’s knight, volunteering for the northern Cerclezian warfront spread swiftly. While the Emperor and Duke Crussian celebrated the decision, society was abuzz with rumors about Carlo’s devotion to Lady Roselina.

Rumor had it that the notorious Cerclezian flirt had finally found true love.

By that time, Carlo and Laila had already arrived at the Crussian estate in response to the Duke’s invitation.

“Welcome to the duke’s residence, Lord Siren and Dame Laila Grant.”

After receiving this greeting from the butler at the grand entrance, the pair were led to the reception room, where the Duke awaited them.

“This way, please. The master and young lady are waiting for you inside.”

At the mention of the young lady, Laila’s brows twitched ever so slightly. Of all people to face today, it had to be Roselina.

“Oh-ho! You’re finally here! Hahaha, what a pleasure to see you again.”

Until recently, the Duke of Crussian had made no secret of his dislike of Carlo. Now, however, he greeted him with open arms, as if none of that had ever happened.

Laila couldn’t help but think that, as always, the nobles were quickest to change their colors when it suited them.

‘He used to sneer at the man cast out from the Siren family… and now look at him.’

“Thank you so much for the invitation, Your Grace. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Carlo said with his usual polished smile and courteous tone, concealing every trace of what he truly thought.

“Hahaha! If I’d known, I would’ve invited you sooner! Ah—this must be the knight they call the reincarnation of the ancient sword.”

“Yes, this is my knight and escort, Laila Grant.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”

Laila said, bowing formally—not as a noble lady, but as a knight.

“The honor’s mine. Do you know how delighted I was when I heard you’d be joining the war? Come now, have a seat.”

A smile never left Duke Crussian’s face.

The knight who wouldn’t move even at the emperor’s request had now stepped forward to aid him. No wonder he looked so pleased—he must have felt as if he’d surpassed the emperor himself.

‘Didn’t they say he’d lose his position as commander-in-chief if this war goes badly?’

The greedy gleam in his eyes made Laila feel as though she were nothing more than a prized object—a tool to secure his victory.