Chapter 2

A heavily jewel-adorned chandelier sat right in the center of the spacious hall’s high ceiling. People dressed even more extravagantly than the chandelier spraying clusters of light filled the hall one by one.

A ball without the servant’s shouting that ought to be heard whenever someone entered felt somewhat unfamiliar, but the first ball held after a long war was more than enough to make everyone forget such unfamiliarity.

While gracefully taking steps with their voluminous skirts lifted slightly, the women busy rolled their eyes beneath their ornate masks to inspect their surroundings.

Even their lustrous red lips were veiled behind fluttering fans, so all that remained visible were eyes glittering with anticipation. The men gazing at these women were hardly any different. Though less flashy than the women’s, the masks overlaid with fine silk and embellished with jewels were delicate and elegant.

Everyone was taken aback by the sudden announcement that the Victory Celebration Ball would be held as a masquerade, but as royals and nobles who were always enthusiastic about anything new, such a concept was quickly embraced.

Although they had to rush frantically to prepare their masks, the masquerade carried a distinct charm, leaving everyone looking thoroughly satisfied.

“Ellie, do I look awkward?”

“Not at all. I picked it out myself, but it really suits you.”

Elena smiled softly as she adjusted Isabelle’s awkward mask.

Framed in black velvet and decorated with rubies and a large black feather, the mask complemented her red dress—which gradually deepened into a black hue toward the bottom—exceptionally well.

Under normal circumstances, Isabelle would have avoided a dress of such a deep color, but this was no ordinary occasion. She had no choice but to concede to Elena’s persistent argument that at a masquerade ball, one ought to wear something different from their usual attire. Still, it felt unbearably uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that didn’t fit her body.

Beneath the mask, Isabelle’s amber eyes blinked pitifully. Elena, however, feigned ignorance of her anxiety and lightly fluttered her fan.

“It goes wonderfully with your red hair, so don’t worry.”

“But it feels so strange. Everyone will know it’s me just because of my hair color anyway. What if they think I look strange because it’s so different from usual?”

When she first arrived in the capital, Isabelle had heard many unpleasant remarks due to her striking red hair; thus, her honest feeling was that she wanted to avoid an outfit that made her hair color stand out so much.

“Pfft. Belle, take a look around you. Look how many redheads there are.”

“Huh? Around us?”

Tilting her head at Elena’s words, Isabelle glanced around, her eyes widening in surprise. Red hair could be seen everywhere across the ballroom. Beside her, Elena let out a quiet giggle.

“It seems a lot of people want to look like you at today’s masquerade. You’re not the only redhead here.”

“But as far as I know, there aren’t any other noble maidens in the capital with red hair besides me.”

Unable to make sense of the situation, Isabelle surveyed her surroundings with wide eyes. Elena linked arms with her and began walking slowly as she spoke.

“They didn’t just use masks; they used dyeing potions. Though even with potions, they can’t replicate a vivid red like yours. Also, Belle, you might not realize it, but you’re quite pretty.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Especially how lovely that red hair and those amber eyes are. If they could have copied your eye color too, they probably would have!”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Unable to believe what Elena was saying, Isabelle shook her head.

“No, you’re the only one who doesn’t know. It’s just that you’re the only Marquis’s daughter in the empire, and everyone was too intimidated by how scary the Marquis is to approach you.”

“My father? He can be a bit scary, but surely…”

“Pfft. Belle. Right, it might be better if you don’t know. Here, have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Isabelle accepted the glass with a bewildered expression. Before her lips even touched the rim, a sharp, potent aroma wafted up, making her brow furrow slightly. But taking a courageous sip, she was met with a sweet aftertaste. Enticed by that lingering sweetness, she found herself sipping from it again and again.

“Don’t get drunk today. Be careful.”

“Why?”

“Ah. Since there haven’t been proper balls for a while, you probably don’t know. During balls, even if people who take a liking to each other disappear together, everyone turns a blind eye. It’s just enjoying a single night. How many people nowadays actually preserve their purity until marriage? Even after getting married, people openly take lovers.”

“What?”

Her mood, which had been light and elevated by the spirit of the alcohol, plunged in an instant. Looking at Isabelle, who was too shocked to speak, Elena shrugged as if she had expected that reaction, slowly emptying her own glass.

“As expected, the Marquis raised you wrapped in cotton wool. You innocent thing. Most people besides you have probably experienced a passionate night already.”

“Th-Then, Ellie, you too…?”

“Hmm, who knows?”

Elena merely offered a meaningful smile upon seeing Isabelle looking at her with wide, horrified eyes.

“At any rate, I’m just telling you so you don’t get drunk and caught by the wrong man. Well, if there’s someone you like, feel free to grab him.”

“N-No, I…”

Isabelle stammered her response with a confused look in her eyes. A passionate night. She had certainly entertained various embarrassing fantasies while thinking of the man in her dream. However, she had never actually considered spending the night with someone in reality.

Isabelle had never thought about spending the night with anyone other than the person she truly loved. That was why the words she heard today left her thoroughly flustered.

‘If there were someone like that man in my dream… Oh my, what on earth am I thinking right now?’

As her thoughts involuntarily reached the man in her dream, Isabelle gasped in surprise and raised the glass in her hand, chugging it down in large gulps.

“Whoa, Belle! You shouldn’t drink it so fast!”

“Ahem! Cough, cough!“

Elena’s startled voice pierced her ears.

In an attempt to soothe her burning chest, she had forgotten that what she held was a glass of alcohol and drank it down too quickly. She hadn’t noticed when taking small sips, but now her throat burned and her stomach stung. Elena hurriedly thrust a glass of water into her hands, but her head was already spinning from the rapidly consumed liquor.

She wanted to step away for a moment, but the head servant’s sudden shout forced her steps to a halt.

“His Imperial Majesty enters. All bow and show your respect!”

From the doors far away from where Isabelle was standing, the servant’s shout announced the arrival of the Emperor.

The brilliant golden hair unique to the imperial family caught her eye vividly, even from afar. As Isabelle stared at the Emperor in a daze, she felt someone grabbing and shaking her elbow, prompting her to hurriedly bow her head.

“Belle, are you alright?”

“U-Uh, yeah. I’m okay.”

Isabelle, who had answered Elena’s anxious whisper with a reassurance that she was fine, chewed over the lingering flash of gold in her mind. Blonde hair was fairly common in the Empire. However, none could compare to the gold of the Imperial family.

The color, shining as if melted pure gold, was a distinct trait of the royal bloodline said to descend from the Gold Dragon. No matter how famously beautiful someone’s blonde hair was rumored to be, standing beside a royal made it look like nothing more than faded straw.

Today was undoubtedly Isabelle’s first time seeing the Emperor. Strangely, though, that golden hue felt intimately familiar. It was bizarre, considering she had never met the Emperor—nor any member of the royal family, for that matter. While she stood there lost in thought, the sickly Emperor departed after delivering a brief message of congratulations. It was a fleeting appearance, almost anticlimactic.

“Since all the key figures of the victory refused to attend the ball…”

“Well, Marquis Worel is one thing, but who would have thought the Crown Prince wouldn’t show up either?”

“Tell me about it. I thought we would finally get a look at the veiled Crown Prince.”

After the Emperor left, the nobles began to buzz with hushed chatter upon confirming that neither Marquis Worel nor the Crown Prince—who should have been the main stars of the Victory Celebration Ball—were present.

Marquis Worel was famous for rarely leaving his territory, and knowing he was currently fully devoted to its restoration, his absence was somewhat expected. But no one anticipated that the Crown Prince would fail to appear.

Currently, the person drawing the most attention in the Empire was, without a doubt, the Second Prince, ‘Feiran Mathias de Grand,’ who had suddenly returned and become the Crown Prince. He had unexpectedly appeared on the battlefield one day when their forces were pushed into a corner.

‘The Golden Lion of the Battlefield.’

Someone had begun calling him that as he swept across the battlegrounds, leading the Imperial army to victory. Before long, people realized he was actually the Second Prince, whom everyone had assumed went missing years ago. The Imperial family’s unique golden hair was something that could never be mimicked.

Along with Marquis Worel, he brought the long war to a close and made a grand return.

Though Feiran was the Second Prince born to the Imperial Consort, he had been tipped to become the Crown Prince early on over the First Prince, ‘Ludwig.’ However, he suddenly vanished from the palace.

It happened shortly after the Imperial Consort, who was deeply favored by the Emperor, died unexpectedly of an illness. Although her death was officially announced as an infectious disease caught from a maid who had visited her private home, hardly anyone believed it. It was an open secret that the Empress was involved in her death. Yet, the Emperor, who should have investigated the matter thoroughly, collapsed from the shock of the Consort’s passing.

Taking advantage of the gap, the Empress wielded power as she pleased. The very first thing she did was lock up Feiran—a thorn in her side—in the palace. Her excuse was the possibility that he might have contracted the illness from the late Consort.

The Empress did not stop at confining Feiran; she sent poisoned food and tea to him, just as she had done to his mother, and dispatched assassins to his room every night.

She worried that once the collapsed Emperor regained consciousness, he might immediately raise Feiran to the throne. But contrary to her belief that a mere child could easily be eliminated, Feiran did not die; instead, he vanished like smoke one day.

Mocking the common belief that he must be dead, Feiran returned, firmly carving his presence into the minds of the people. Not only that, but upon returning to the Imperial Palace, he bypassed the First Prince Ludwig to claim the long-vacant seat of the Crown Prince.

Although the Empress’s faction supporting Ludwig initially resisted the Emperor’s arbitrary decision, they could no longer oppose Feiran, who had accomplished immense feats in the war. This was especially true given that Ludwig had been plagued by scandals due to his dishonorable behavior throughout the long war.

Among the murmuring crowd, a rumor began to float around that perhaps holding a masquerade ball had been the Crown Prince’s idea all along.

Though no one knew who started the rumor, the nobles—thinking it was plausible—hurriedly searched their surroundings, wondering if the Crown Prince had attended in secret.

Just as he had on the battlefield, Feiran had continuously worn a mask since returning to the Imperial Palace. Rumors circulated that he had suffered a severe facial wound, but no one knew the truth.

At any rate, while the Crown Prince always wore a mask, he did not stick to a specific design. Some days he wore an ornate one, and other days a plain one.

To find the Crown Prince, who might be attending incognito, one had to look for that signature golden hair of the Imperial family. Searching for golden locks, the eyes of the crowd suddenly caught a different spark.

“Look over there, that red hair! Isn’t that Marquis Worel’s daughter?”

“Ah, you’re right. I heard the Marquis’s daughter was staying in the capital; it seems she attended in place of His Excellency.”

The gazes searching for the Crown Prince began shifting toward Isabelle, who was standing in a corner of the ballroom. Since no one fitting the Crown Prince’s description was in sight, it was natural for attention to turn toward the Worel family, who held the next greatest military merit.

The fact that she was not yet engaged also played a role. Because of this, she found herself in a terribly awkward situation, as young noblemen relentlessly tried to strike up a conversation.

“My Lady, would you grant me the honor of a dance?”

“Please give me a chance as well.”

“A-Ah, no. I’m sorry. I was just about to go take a rest…”

It had been manageable when she was with Elena. On behalf of the shy Isabelle, Elena had stepped forward to turn away the approaching young men. But the moment Elena briefly left her side to dance, a larger crowd of men swarmed in, seizing the opportunity.

Seeing a group of men approaching while staring in her direction, Isabelle decided she couldn’t stay where she was and moved away.

Stepping toward the terrace, Isabelle’s heart sank when she noticed the curtains were drawn. Even through the firmly closed doors, inflamed, breathless moans spilled out, impossible to hide. Isabelle’s face flushed bright red, as she could tell what was happening inside without even looking.

“Oh, My Lady. Here you are. How about joining me for a rest on the terrace?”

“No. I-I’m fine.”

A nobleman who had followed her approached Isabelle as she lingered near the terrace. Through his mask, his eyes surged with undisguised greed. Realizing the meaning behind that look, Isabelle quickly fled after offering a brief apology.

‘The terraces aren’t empty, and I don’t want to stay in the hall any longer.’

As Isabelle debated whether she should just go home, a quiet-looking garden caught her eye.

‘If I take a short stroll in the garden and head back, Elena should be back by then.’

Leaving the brilliantly shining ballroom behind, Isabelle made her way into the garden. Eager to escape the crowded room, she never imagined that a shadow was following close behind.

Moreover, thinking the garden was deserted was entirely Isabelle’s mistake.

Secret, intimate acts were taking place hidden among the bushes and trees of the garden. Though there were plenty of terraces and rooms, the garden was burning hotter than during the day, packed with people who didn’t have time to go inside or who simply sought a thrill.

Realizing this too late, Isabelle felt a rush of dismay. She tried to turn back to the ballroom, but in her flustered haste, she couldn’t remember the path she had taken. Thinking she might run into a guard or a servant if she kept walking a bit further, Isabelle continued onward.

“Ouch…”

Although the shoes she had chosen to match her dress were pretty, they were far from practical.

Perhaps because she had walked more than expected, a throb of pain shot up from her heel. Once she became aware of it, the worsening ache made Isabelle knit her brows. Judging it impossible to keep walking, she glanced around for a place to sit, but found nowhere suitable. Then, she caught the faint sound of trickling water.

Only then did color return to her face, which had darkened with embarrassment. Luckily, a fountain seemed to be nearby.

‘I should head to the fountain and check on my foot.’

Enduring the pain with the thought that she only had a little further to go, she hobbled forward. As expected, a marble fountain stood just a short distance away.

Carved from ivory marble that appeared without a single flaw, the lion statue looked so lifelike it seemed ready to pounce on her at any moment. Had it not been for the stream of water pouring from its mouth, it was so exquisite and detailed that one might have mistaken it for a real lion.

As she gazed at the statue as if spellbound, the ivory carving briefly appeared golden in the moonlight. Blinking her eyes, the illusion vanished, and the lion statue gleamed stark white once more.

Only after blinking several times to double-check did Isabelle sit on the edge of the fountain and cautiously slip off her shoe. Blood was bleeding through her heel, soaking her stockings.

Just as she tried to examine the wound more closely, she heard the crunch of snapping twigs.

Startled, she snapped her head up to find an unfamiliar man standing a few paces away. Isabelle hurriedly smoothed down her lifted skirt.

“My apologies if I startled you. You appeared to be in need of assistance.”

“Ah, yes.”

Fortunately, the man remained where he was without stepping closer, seemingly considerate of the startled Isabelle.

“If My Lady does not mind, may I take a look at your injury?”

“That is quite alright. If you wish to help, would you mind terribly calling a servant for me?”

Though his spoken tone was polite and gentle, Isabelle found the man strangely off-putting. Moreover, she had no desire to show her bare foot to a man she was meeting for the first time.

The man’s expression seemed to stiffen briefly, but he soon offered a pleasant smile, saying he would bring a servant, and vanished into the darkness.

‘Is there a building over that way?’

Watching the direction where the man had disappeared, Isabelle realized she could hear the faint murmur of people’s voices. Feeling relieved that she wasn’t too far from the ballroom, she waited.

After a short while, the man who had promised to fetch a servant returned alone, holding a glass in his hand.

“The servant will arrive shortly alongside a maid. More importantly, you looked thirsty, so I brought some water first.”

She hadn’t noticed while wandering the garden, but the sight of the water sloshing in the glass ignited a sudden, scorching thirst. Thinking it rude to repeatedly refuse the man’s goodwill, Isabelle accepted the glass this time without turning it down.

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. Is it not a gentleman’s duty to assist a lady?”

Finding the man’s slick smile burdensome, Isabelle forced an awkward smile and brought the glass to her lips. She recalled the warning not to drink recklessly if offered alcohol, but reasoned that this was water, not liquor, so what harm could it do? Even so, just in case, she intended to drink only enough to wet her throat, but being thirstier than she realized, she unwittingly emptied the entire glass.

The water tasted slightly different from usual, but she brushed it off, thinking the water in the Imperial Palace simply had a different flavor.

Having verified that Isabelle emptied her glass, the man spoke again.

“It is the Lion Fountain. Has My Lady by chance heard about the Crown Prince?”

“Pardon? Ah, no. I am not particularly well-versed in rumors.”

“I see.”

The man flicked his gaze between the Lion Fountain and Isabelle, his lips curling upward.

“Then, do you know why the Crown Prince is called the Golden Lion of the battlefield?”

“Ah… Is that because of his golden hair…”

“You know it well. All members of the Imperial family possess golden hair.”

The man stared at Isabelle, emphasizing the phrase ‘golden hair’ as if on purpose.

“You, too, have golden hair…”

As Isabelle began to reply to the man’s words, she felt something strange happening to her body.

A searing fever began to flush across her entire form.

As Isabelle bit her lip in flustered confusion, the man took a step closer.

“You seem unwell. Allow me to assist you.”

“…No. I am fine.”

Isabelle bit back a groan that threatened to slip out, clutching her skirt tightly and shaking her head.

She wanted to escape the man and leave, but her body refused to obey. Lacking strength in her legs, she tried to stand, only to collapse right back down.

“There is no need to decline. I shall escort you to a place where you can rest comfortably. As you can see, there is nowhere I cannot go.”

The man brushed back his hair with a boastful smirk. The respectful distance he had kept earlier seemed merely a tactic to lower her guard; despite Isabelle’s refusal, he gradually narrowed the space between them.

“I am truly fine…”

Just before the man’s hand—now dangerously close—could touch Isabelle, a low voice cut through the air alongside a rustle of movement.

“That is enough.”

Expecting the long-awaited servant and maid, Isabelle looked toward the sound, only to find a man cloaked entirely in black standing there.

His midnight-black hair looked as if it had been dyed from slicing off a piece of the deepest darkness. Because of the black attire, the man’s fair skin, glaring blue eyes, and crookedly upturned red lips stood out with striking clarity.

“Another madman here impersonating royalty just because he has blonde hair.”

“Wh-Wh-Impersonating royalty! I did no such thing!”

“Did you not say there is nowhere you cannot go?”

At the sudden appearance of the black-haired man, the blonde man who had been gloating moments ago shouted with a flustered face.

“I-I meant… I meant anywhere in the garden! That I could go anywhere in the garden!”

Impersonating royalty was by no means a light offense. Desperate to escape the situation, the man babbled a flimsy excuse.

Sneering at his words, the black-haired man stepped closer to the two of them and snatched the glass held in Isabelle’s hand.

“Let us pretend that was what you meant. Yet you recklessly used an aphrodisiac inside the Imperial Palace.”

“…An aphrodisiac?”

Isabelle’s eyes widened.

‘An aphrodisiac? When?’

Looking with disbelief at the glass now held in the black-haired man’s hand, she spotted undissolved powder remaining at the bottom. She bit her lip in self-loathing over her own foolishness for drinking without checking properly, no matter how thirsty she had been.

“Give that back!”

Late to the mark, the blonde man attempted to snatch the glass away, but it was futile. In the blink of an eye, he was kicked by a long leg and sent tumbling across the ground.

“You bastard…”

Clutching his kicked stomach, the blonde man staggered up to counterattack, but his fist merely flailed in midair.

After the black-haired man effortlessly subdued him, guards appeared, seemingly drawn by the commotion.

“Guards. Drag this man away. He used an aphrodisiac in the Imperial Palace.”

Without asking further questions, the guards apprehended the blonde man slumped on the ground.

“Ah, and this is evidence.”

When he handed the glass in his hand to the guards, the blonde man seemed to snap back to his senses and began shouting again.

“This is a frame-up! Do you have any idea who I am?!”

“A frame-up, is it? An investigation will settle that.”

The man let out a amused chuckle and gestured with his chin for them to take him away at once.

Shouting in protest as his arms were restrained, the blonde man fell silent upon noticing a servant also caught by the guards. It appeared the two were accomplices.

After the guards departed, Isabelle sat dazed in disbelief at the surreal situation. Even in the midst of it, heat surged through her body, turning her knuckles white as she gripped her skirt.

“My Lady, are you alright?”

A low, smooth voice pierced through ears clouded by fever. Blinking slowly, she found the man’s blue eyes right before her. Meeting his gaze strangely made the heat in her body burn even fiercer. Isabelle swallowed hard and barely managed to part her lips.

“Yes…”

Her answer slipped out slow and soft. Her lips were so dry she had to stick out her tongue to moisten them, yet her thirst persisted.

Thinking she needed water, Isabelle pushed herself up. Or rather, tried to.

“This will not do.”

Seeing Isabelle sway as she attempted to stand, the man let out a sigh and scooped her up into his arms in one swift motion.

“Ah…”

At the sudden touch, her feverish body reacted instantaneously. She needed to tell him to put her down, but her lips wouldn’t open. She lacked the clarity of mind to form proper words.

Merely being held in his arms caused her breath to come in ragged gasps, and her burning body began to writhe.

“My goodness… We must hurry.”

Looking down at Isabelle in his arms, the man quickened his pace.

Though he was heading in the opposite direction of the ballroom, Isabelle was too consumed with calming her surging heat to notice.

Unconsciously, her hands were blindly caressing the man’s chest. The man merely glanced down briefly without stopping her. Even if Isabelle hadn’t pulled her hands back in surprise a moment later, it felt as though he would have silently let her be.

When the man came to a halt and opened an unfamiliar door, she was vaguely aware of him issuing various commands to someone, but everything felt hazy and blurred to Isabelle, like a dream.

Her body was laid upon a bed, and missing the warmth that had just touched her, her hand reached out instinctively.

“Shh. It is alright. I shall return shortly.”

The man soothed Isabelle in a gentle voice before vanishing somewhere.

The clothes wrapping her body felt cumbersome and suffocating. Her body—burning beyond hot, as if ablaze—screamed at her to shed these layers of fabric at once. However, unbuttoning a dress that required the help of maids to put on was no easy task alone.

Struggling to remove the dress, Isabelle succeeded only in disheveling it. Realizing the dress wasn’t coming off, she snatched off the mask covering her face and tossed it aside instead.

Though made of breathable material, it had been a stifling, uncomfortable item. Tossing away the mask she had worn for hours, a sense of relief washed over her, wringing out a sigh that sounded almost like a moan.

“Haah…”

Thanks to the cool air brushing against her face, her clouded mind regained a faint sliver of clarity. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the texture of luxurious bedding. Stroking the smooth linens once, Isabelle sat up slightly and surveyed her surroundings.

The room was decorated in an extraordinary manner. The castle in her northern territory was considered luxurious, but it couldn’t hold a candle to this room. Just looking at the room alone made her realize that its owner was by no means an ordinary person.

‘Who on earth is he?’

Isabelle wondered, but her thoughts couldn’t linger. The heat that had briefly subsided surged back up. Perhaps because of the brief respite, it seemed to boil even hotter than before.

The tips of her firm breasts tingled and throbbed.

In her stifling distress, Isabelle cupped her aching chest with one hand and let out a soft moan.

A thirst entirely different from a dry throat flared within her.

“My Lady, my apologies for leaving you alone.”

Though she had only heard it a few times, that low voice—already familiar to her ears—awakened her fading consciousness. Isabelle raised her tear-filled eyes toward the direction of the voice.

The man walking toward her came to a sudden halt.

“Belle?”

“…Pardon?”

Seeing Isabelle with brimming tears, the man called out her nickname in a voice laced with shock.

The thought of how he knew her name was erased the moment she rubbed her eyes to wipe her tears and realized she had taken off her mask.

She simply brushed it off, assuming he must have seen her somewhere before.

The man quickly wiped the look of surprise from his face and approached with long strides, a languid smile gracing his features. She caught a brief glimpse of him tossing something he held in his hand as he walked, followed by the crisp sound of shattering glass.

Isabelle looked at the man with puzzled eyes, but with heat seeping into her very mind, it was hard to maintain a coherent thought.

Blinking slowly, she watched the man draw near.

Unaware of it herself, Isabelle’s red lips were parted sensually as if tempting him.

Her soft cheeks were flushed a ripe peach, and her feverish body trembled with tension under his gaze.

As his unswerving gaze fixed upon her, her chest tightened even further. Isabelle cupped her chest with a clumsy hand, but as if it were not her own hand she craved, it refused to soften.

She didn’t know how to quench the strange heat that had gradually risen to fill her entire body.

Isabelle looked up at the man, her amber eyes brimming with tears as if pleading.

“Shall I help you?”

When she had first encountered the stranger in the garden, she hadn’t wanted even the slightest bit of help. Yet, strangely, the moment her gaze met his blue eyes, her wariness melted away like snow.

Isabelle managed a strained nod.

“Help… please help me.”

“Belle, if that is what you wish.”

The man whispered low, his thumb lightly stroking the beauty mark beneath her left eye, which was now damp with tears.

“…I tried to resist…”

“What?”

Unable to fully catch the man’s whisper, Isabelle looked at him with questioning eyes. He merely smiled faintly in response to her gaze, offering no further explanation.

“I’ll make you comfortable soon. Will you entrust everything to me?”

His tone remained gentle, yet his blue eyes burned like an inferno.

Even through her haze, Isabelle dimly grasped the implications of his words. She had known from the moment she realized she’d been drugged that this would happen.

Unlike the blond man she had encountered earlier, she found this dark-haired man strangely irresistible. No, far from resisting, a sudden urge to touch him surged within her, forcing her to grip the bedsheets to keep herself from reaching out.

“Do you dislike this?”

The man showed no haste. His fingertips traced the line of Isabelle’s face with agonizing slowness.

His touch, a deliberate seduction, parted her lips and drew a hot breath from her.

“N-no…”

Even the lightest brush, like a feather, sent a surge of heat through her, leaving her gasping. The warmth of his skin against hers incinerated the last remnants of her reason, filling the void with a burning instinct.

‘I want him,’ she thought. ‘No, I want him to take me.’

Whispering words she would never dare conceive in her right mind, Isabelle reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He let out a low laugh at her touch—the sound of a sated beast, languid and utterly satisfied.

“Belle, remember that you were the one to reach out first.”

The man cast aside his plain, unadorned mask. In stark contrast to its simple form, the face it had concealed was exquisitely beautiful.

Her reflection filled his ocean-blue eyes. Before she could even gasp at the sight of his revealed face, his crimson lips descended upon Isabelle’s, which had parted as she drew a ragged breath.

As a searing heat enveloped her entire body, Isabelle flinched at the unfamiliar sensation. The man soothed her, stroking her back as he gently sucked her lower lip.

A soft moan escaped her—Hngh—and with his breath, his wet tongue pushed past her parted lips and into her mouth.

The man ran the tip of his tongue over her straight teeth before stroking the flesh. Her small tongue, retreating in a faltering escape, only served to provoke him further.

He ensnared it to prevent her from fleeing, sucking so hard it felt as if her tongue would be torn from its root, only to soothe her with a gentle caress. Swept away by his movements—alternating between tenderness and fierce intensity—Isabelle clung to the fabric of his clothes like a sailboat tossed by a storm, whimpering.

The wet, squelching sounds of their mingling saliva echoed through the room. The hand that had been softly stroking her back had already found the knot securing her dress and was undoing it, but Isabelle was too oblivious to notice.

As their breaths entwined, she found herself unable to think of anything else.

Isabelle clung to him and sobbed, desperate not to waste a single drop of his saliva, which tasted like sweet nectar cooling her burning insides.

“Hngh… ah…”

“My, my. It’s a problem if you’re already like this from just a kiss. We’ve only just begun.”

He pulled his lips away slightly, whispering as if she were the cutest thing in the world, clinging to him in a frenzy, not knowing what to do with her body flushed from the kiss. After sucking on her lower lip once more, he lowered his head to her slender neck, which seemed small enough to be grasped in one hand. He gently bit the spot where her hot pulse throbbed.

The slight pain inflicted on her heated body felt like pleasure, and Isabelle’s moans flowed out in a continuous stream.

“Hah… ahh!”

“Truly, I could just devour you whole.”

Even a gentle nip had already left her nape flushing red. He licked the spot before pressing his lips firmly against it, drawing a strong kiss. The delicate skin quickly bloomed with a crimson mark. As if one were not enough, he left another mark near her prominent collarbone—like camellia blossoms scattered across a field of white snow.

Satisfied with the red stains he had etched into her pale skin, the man smiled, tracing the lovely flowers he had created with his fingertips.

“Now, take off your clothes yourself.”

Isabelle’s brow furrowed slightly, unable to comprehend his words.

‘More. I want him to touch me more.’

When he showed no sign of doing so, tears began to well in her eyes from the frustration.

“If you want something, you should know how to take the initiative.”

The man pressed a light kiss to her tear-brimmed eyes, then finished untying the knot at the back of her dress to make it easier for her to remove. He then rose from the bed.

Leaving Isabelle alone on the mattress, he walked a few steps away and sank deep into the sofa, leaning back against its frame. His resolute posture made it clear: if she didn’t undress herself and come to him, he wouldn’t help her any further. He watched her with a cool, detached gaze, a stark contrast to the man who, moments ago, had been devouring her lips and painting them a vivid crimson.

Though her instincts had begun to override her reason, she still lacked the courage to cross the line on her own.

As time passed, her body, filled with anticipation, craved his touch. Her breathing grew ragged, and her mind grew hazy with a boiling heat.

Isabelle, lost in thought, bit her lip anxiously. In contrast, the man seemed completely at ease.

“I can wait for you as long as you need… but Belle, your body seems to disagree.”

Just as he said, ever since their tongues had met, a ticklish sensation had been building between her legs, making her squirm uncontrollably. The underwear that had been slowly dampening was now completely soaked.

The thought that he would somehow get past her wet underwear and take care of her dominated her mind. She was desperate. It felt as if her body were burning up from thirst, like being abandoned in the middle of a desert.

“I’m not particularly fond of forcing things. But if it’s too much for you to bear, I could help you out a little. What do you say?”

“What… hnh… should I… do?”

“Just a few words. A few words is enough.”

The man smiled smoothly as he gazed at Isabelle, who looked back at him with desperate eyes, as if asking what that word was.

“Take it off for me.”

As he whispered, his blue eyes gleamed with a mixture of playfulness and danger.

“For now, that those words should be enough.”

“Take it off for me.”

It was a request that could be difficult, yet simple, depending on how she thought about it.

Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut and parted her trembling lips.

“T-Take… it… off… for me.”

As she barely managed to stammer the words out, the man rose to his feet. He then gently stroked her hair as if praising her.

“Well done. I shall grant your request. Next time, it would be even better if you took it off yourself.”

The man whispered softly as he moved his hand. At his touch, the dress she had spent so much time putting on slipped to her feet.