Side Story 1

Seeing the Emperor anxiously pacing in front of the tightly closed door, Halo secretly clicked his tongue. Ordinarily, the Emperor would have quickly caught Halo’s impudent behavior and sent a chilling glare his way, but right now, far from noticing, he seemed to have forgotten Halo’s very existence.

Sparse groans could be heard from inside the room. Every time a sound leaked through the door, the Emperor’s shoulders flinched, and his folded arms twitched as if he wanted to burst through the locked door at any second. Yet, as if reminding himself of his resolve never to uncross his arms, his shoulders stiffened and his arms tensed visibly from the side.

“Your Majesty, why not sit and wait for a moment? You have been standing all night.”

Halo could not bring himself to say that his pacing was making him dizzy, so he suggested a seat under the guise of concern. Though he thought he had spoken softly so as not to grate on his nerves, the gaze that met Halo as the Emperor whipped his head around was fierce enough to summon a storm.

“Belle is suffering so much in there, and you are telling me to sit comfortably?”

“A-Ah, no, that’s not… My apologies. I was thoughtless.”

Surprised by the Emperor’s low, sunken voice, Halo stammered. In truth, he felt immensely wronged, wondering what he had done so terribly wrong by simply asking him to take a seat to deserve such treatment. Though confused as to why he was so enraged, Halo apologized since he had clearly crossed him.

Garing fiercely at Halo, the Emperor scowled as if even that brief moment were a waste of time before fixing his gaze back on the door. Watching him, bachelor Halo thought that it was only natural for a mother to suffer during childbirth, and that the Emperor was being overly dramatic.

Just as Halo was inwardly wishing someone would tell the anxious Emperor to maintain his dignity, Marquis Worel, drenched in sweat, stepped into the reception room.

Thinking that Marquis Worel would surely agree with his sentiment, Halo’s expression brightened.

Having set off for the Gate the moment he heard the news of Isabelle’s impending delivery, it was clear the Marquis had ridden his horse without rest even after passing through the Gate. Breathing heavily, his attire was thoroughly disheveled, ruined by sweat and dust. Though the surroundings grew noisy with the Marquis’s arrival, Feiran remained with his gaze fixed entirely on the room where Isabelle was.

“Marquis, you look terribly exhausted. Why not rest for a moment?”

“Prime Minister! Our Belle is suffering so much right now, what do you mean, rest?!”

Halo stared with a bewildered expression at the Marquis, who showed the exact same reaction as the Emperor just a moment ago. It felt as though a world he knew nothing about was unfolding right before his eyes.

With a face that conveyed he had no idea how to respond, Halo looked back and forth between the angry Marquis and the Emperor, whose eyes never left the door. Halo simply could not understand it.

A short while later, at the Emperor’s single remark asking if he intended to see the baby in such a filthy state, the Marquis stared anxiously at the closed door for a long moment before taking reluctant steps away. Then, he washed up and returned with a speed that thoroughly startled Halo.

The expressions of the two men standing like stone statues before the door shifted only when the groans of pain ceased, replaced by the cry of a newborn.

Though the two were usually busy growling at each other over Isabelle, today, eyes brimming with joy passed between them. Yet that peace was short-lived; as Isabelle’s painful moans echoed once more, both of their faces drained of color. Something was definitely wrong.

“Hey, there! What on earth is happening?! Open this door right now! Belle! Are you alright? Belle!”

Feiran called out to Belle in a frantic voice, ordering the locked door to be opened. Yet despite his shouting, the tightly shut door showed no signs of opening.

Unable to endure it any longer, Feiran coated his hand in magic power, intending to shatter the door and burst inside. The moment he reached toward the door handle, another baby’s cry echoed from within. Hearing it alongside the cry of the baby who had been wailing just moments ago, it was clear that not one, but two babies had been born.

His hand reaching for the handle dropped, and the coated magic vanished into thin air. Feiran’s blue eyes wavered like rippling waves. With a click, the door opened, and a midwife with an forehead drenched in sweat stepped out, wiping herself with a handkerchief. She shouted joyfully toward the dazed Emperor, the Marquis, and the confused Prime Minister.

“Your Majesty, congratulations! A Prince and a Princess have been born healthy!”

Feiran blinked two or three times with a face clearly stiffened with tension, before asking in a trembling voice. Even after waiting so desperately for that door to open, he couldn’t readily step inside the opened door, merely peeking inside from the edge of his vision.

“Is Belle… Is the Empress safe?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. You may go inside now.”

No sooner had permission been granted than Feiran rushed into the room. The room was filled with the metallic scent of blood, momentarily leaving his head spinning.

It made no sense for a man who had survived countless assassination threats and endured the battlefield like a demon to lose his mind over a mere scent of blood. Yet the moment he realized that this blood filling the room—the red blood soaking the bedsheets even from afar—had come from Belle’s body, the words that she was safe felt like a lie.

His steps toward the bed grew progressively slower. He wondered if approaching Isabelle had ever been this difficult.

“Ran?”

A soft voice sounded from the bed. It was Belle’s voice, the one he had been so desperate to hear. As if his slow steps had been a lie, Feiran sprinted to Isabelle’s side.

Though her face was drenched in sweat and looked exhausted, Isabelle was smiling as she looked at him.

Kissing her dry, chapped lips lightly, Feiran let out a long sigh of relief.

“I was so worried.”

“Were you? Becoming a mother is hardly an easy task, after all.”

After learning she was pregnant, Isabelle had insisted that a married couple should use formal speech with each other, demanding that he use honorifics with her as well.

Seeing his tone revert to the past—just like when they had first met again—rather than the formal speech he had been using, Isabelle realized how anxious and worried he must have been today. Smothering a smile to herself, she chose not to point out his speech.

Seeing a man who always appeared dignified and fearless look so anxious and insecure today struck her as rather cute.

“Have you seen our children? They take after you and are so very lovely. Anna, please bring the babies over here.”

In truth, Feiran felt sorry to the newborns, but he was far more worried and curious about whether Isabelle was in any pain. Not wanting to upset Isabelle, however, he hid his feelings and silently watched the approaching wet nurse.

Anna, who had been chosen in advance as the wet nurse for the child to be born, placed a baby wrapped in a snow-white swaddling cloth into his arms. Meanwhile, the child held by the maid standing beside Anna was placed into Belle’s arms.

The newborn child was so tiny that Feiran was at a complete loss, terrified that the baby might break if he applied even the slightest pressure to his arms.

Though he had hoped for a child with red hair like Isabelle, the babies, heavily inheriting the blood of the imperial line, possessed golden hair that was the spitting image of Feiran’s. He wondered whose eyes they would have when they opened their tightly shut lids. Though the hair color was beyond his control now, Feiran vaguely hoped they would inherit Isabelle’s beautiful amber eyes rather than his own.

“Belle, my child, are you in any pain?”

“No, I am fine. Father, come closer and hold your granddaughter.”

The burly Marquis, who had entered the room unnoticed, gently scooped up the baby. Only then did Feiran realize that the baby in his arms was a boy and the one in the Marquis’s arms was a girl, his eyes flashing with a sudden spike of jealousy.

Both children were lovely, but the baby girl held a bit more resemblance to Belle. The shape of her eyebrows, her tiny button nose, her dainty ears—every part Feiran saw felt identical to Belle.

Had Halo, who remained outside the door peering in, heard his thoughts, he would have strongly disagreed on who the newborn resembled. Regardless, in Feiran’s eyes, the fact that the Marquis got to hold the baby—who, save for her hair, was the spitting image of his beloved Isabelle—before he did was thoroughly displeasing. Reading his gaze, Isabelle burst into a soft laugh, murmuring with feigned hurt.

“My, my. Is our daughter already your priority over me?”

“No, that could never be. No matter if they are our children, Belle, they could never take priority over you.”

Handing the child back to the wet nurse, Feiran took Isabelle’s hand and whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Carefully brushing away the hair clinging to her sweat-drenched forehead, Feiran gazed into Isabelle’s beautiful amber eyes and smiled softly.While he spent time reassuring her that she was far more precious to him than the children, Feiran didn’t even notice that the wet nurse and the Marquis had left the room with the babies.

Only after a long while did Feiran notice the maids waiting standby to change Isabelle’s clothes. Dismissing them, he personally wiped down Isabelle’s sweat-drenched body, changed her attire, and scooped her up into his arms.

Leaving the room used as the delivery chamber to head to their bedroom, Isabelle fell asleep. Though Isabelle had said she was fine out of concern that he would worry, there was no way she could be fine after enduring labor all night. Fearing her body might jostle, Feiran moved his steps with extreme care.

During her pregnancy, when her belly looked ready to burst at any moment, he had been so anxious every time she moved that he carried her everywhere daily. Seeing Isabelle, who had turned as light as a feather in just a single day, made him deeply worried.

While thinking that he should instruct the head chef to prepare high-protein food to nourish her body, it suddenly dawned on him that Isabelle seemed to have known all along that she was carrying twins. Looking down at Isabelle sleeping peacefully in his arms, Feiran let out a chuckle.

“Belle, my cute lady. If your goal was to surprise me, you succeeded. I truly thought something terrible had happened.”

Thinking that once her body recovered, he would make her pay a harsh price for playing such a sly trick, Feiran tilted the corners of his lips into a crooked smile. That harsh price, of course, was something that would take place in their bed.

He intended to make it so she couldn’t leave the room for a long while once her body recovered. Though it would be a strain, he resolved to rush through urgent matters to clear out a break without fail, laying Isabelle onto the bed.

His plan to head off to work after ensuring Isabelle was resting comfortably fell through when she clutched at his hem in her sleep. While the right thing to do was gently detach her grip and head to the office, the anxiety he had felt all day had yet to be completely washed away.

Ultimately, Feiran laid himself down beside Isabelle. Seeking familiar warmth, Isabelle snuggled into his arms. Her soft body fit seamlessly against his own. Through the warmth transmitted where their bodies met, he felt his anxiety gradually fade away.

Breathing in Isabelle’s sweet, refreshing scent to his heart’s content, Feiran closed his weary eyes. Unlike his exhausted body, his vigorous lower half expanded without considering Isabelle’s condition, wringing a groan of agony from his lips.

It would still take a very long time for Isabelle’s body to recover. Thanks to that, his endless nights were far from over. Recalling the faces of the ministers who incited his rage, he waited for the heat to cool down.

“Belle, you had better prepare yourself.”

Feiran whispered into the sleeping Isabelle’s ear, pressing a kiss to it in a voice trembling with desire. Though asleep, Isabelle flinched at the mysterious chill that washed over her. Stimulated even by that small flinch, Feiran let out a groan and swore under his breath.

***

Julian and Mariella watched the golden back of his head disappear with their mother in his arms, their eyes indifferent as if completely accustomed to the sight. The steps he took as he crossed the garden toward the entrance of the Imperial Palace were remarkably fast.

“When do you think they’ll come out of the room this time?”

Julian muttered, floating a green toy ball gently in the air.

Looking at Julian, who possessed blue eyes that closely resembled the father who had just vanished, Mariella knit her brows. Though she adored her twin brother dearly, seeing a face so identical to the father who monopolized her beloved mother every single time put her in a foul mood.

“Not today, surely. Maybe around tomorrow? I want to spend time with Mother, too. Hmph.”

“I hope they come out of the room tomorrow, at least.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Julian muttered as he softly rubbed Mariella’s deeply furrowed brow with his fingertip to smooth it out.

“Don’t scowl. It makes your face look ugly.”

“Fine. Make me a flower crown instead of Mother, then. Okay?”

Mariella smiled like a flower, her amber eyes—resembling those of her mother, Isabelle—shining brightly. Letting out a secret sigh at his twin sister who only called him ‘brother’ when it suited her, Julian nodded his head.

Just like his father, Julian was helpless when it came to his mother, Isabelle and Mariella. Forgotten by Julian, the green ball that had been floating in the sky quickly dropped to the ground and rolled away.

Catching sight of his mischievous sister who had run ahead in a brief moment of distraction to manipulate the water stream of the fountain with her magic, Julian ran toward her, praying that tomorrow he could spend time with his mother without his father’s interference.

***

“Ran, wait a moment. Raaan!!”

Isabelle cried out as she wriggled in his arms, but Feiran walked with long, heavy strides as if he couldn’t hear her.

She had intended to have a long-awaited tea time with the children in the garden, but with her husband’s sudden appearance, tea time couldn’t even begin. Her face flushed hot at the memory of the children’s eyes watching them with indifferent, accustomed expressions.

While a good relationship between parents was certainly beneficial for the children’s emotional well-being, being excessively affectionate bound to cause issues.

Confirming that they had entered the bedchamber, Isabelle thought she must say something this time and called out to her husband with a feigned angry expression.

“Ran… Mmm… hng.”

Feiran swallowed the lips that had parted to call his name. Receiving a deep, passionate kiss, Isabelle was laid down upon the bed. A hot breath joined his tongue as it swam inside her mouth. Their saliva mingled and their tongues danced, their bodies overlapping.

As Ran deftly rubbed and stimulated the deep recesses of Isabelle’s mouth, groans burst forth on their own. Her entire body tensed in anticipation of the act that would follow the kiss.

“Ah… Ran. Doing this is far too unfair…”

She had been determined to say a word about his excessive public displays of affection in front of the children today, but at Feiran’s touch, Isabelle crumbled helplessly once again.

“What is? I believe I sent word in advance for you to wait obediently in the room because I would be returning today.”

Even while fully aware of what Isabelle’s grumbling meant, he pretended not to know, extending his tongue to lick her earlobe as he replied naturally, as if he had done nothing wrong.

When he lightly bit down on her plump earlobe with his teeth, Isabelle shuddered, letting out a hot breath.

Extending his tongue, Feiran licked his way down, starting from behind her ear and moving gradually lower. Meanwhile, his busy hands unfastened the knots of her dress and began to knead her breasts.

He gently massaged her breasts, which had grown larger after giving birth, and rubbed her nipples with his thumbs to stimulate them.

“I think your breasts have grown even bigger. Did you know that?”

Feiran whispered, kissing her exposed collarbone.

“Ah… The wet nurse said… that’s how it normally is after giving birth… haang.”

“Is that so? Or did they grow bigger because I touch and suck them every single day?”

“Ran!”

“Haha, alright. But you like it, don’t you? This kind of thing.”

Kissing Isabelle’s lips lightly as she shot him a feigned angry glare, Feiran lowered his head and bit into her exposed chest. He elaborately caressed her bumpy areolas with his tongue and began to bite and suck on her erect nipples without causing pain, leaving Isabelle with no choice but to admit—just as he said—that she loved having her breasts caressed. At the tip of his tongue, her nipples hardened, bouncing and dancing against it.

Her lightly worn dress was quickly stripped off, falling onto the bed below. Her stockings and undergarments were also tossed carelessly onto the floor. Pushing himself up, Feiran tore off his own clothes without breaking his gaze from Isabelle, who lay waiting for his touch.

Having been away on a two-week inspection of the provinces, his wife aroused him simply by being looked at. His fully erect shaft throbbed painfully as if it would explode at any second.

As Feiran approached, Isabelle sat up. As if waiting for him to lie on the bed was too much time wasted, she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as she sought his lips. Tilting her head slightly to the side, their lips met without a single gap. Their tongues intertwined, and their mixed saliva trickled down their throats.

Her voluptuous breasts, which he had noted were larger than before, pressed against his hard chest, their shape contorting this way and that. The large hand that had been caressing her slender waist kneaded her alluring buttocks before reaching between her parted legs into the narrow gap. As he smoothly rubbed the moist crevice and lightly stroked her split flesh, a groan escaped her despite their joining lips.

“Haah…”

“Belle, it’s your turn this time.”

When Feiran whispered with eyes darkened with lust, Isabelle opened the eyes she had closed in feverish delight. Her eyes were filled completely with Feiran’s face.

Isabelle smiled radiantly, her eyes curling beautifully. The mere thought of taking in the sight of him thoroughly disheveled made her body tremble with excitement.

Lowering her hand to wrap around his penis, she felt Feiran’s body stiffen firmly.

Perched on the edge of the bed, Isabelle lightly licked the tip of his penis, where clear fluid was oozing, with her tongue. Carefully taking the penis—which grew larger in her hand—into her mouth, she caressed it by rolling her tongue as if kissing him.

“Oh, Belle… haa…”

As a low, deep sound scraped from his throat, Isabelle moved her mouth even faster. His penis, filling her small mouth to the brim, grew even larger as time passed.

Vein-bulging and thick, his shaft repeatedly entered deep enough to graze her uvula before withdrawing. At a certain moment, Feiran pressed down on her head, halting her movements. His familiar taste spread throughout her mouth, flowing down her throat. The portion she failed to swallow trickled down the corner of her mouth, passing her neckline to flow over her chest.

He then separated his length from Isabelle’s mouth. Pulling Isabelle flat onto the bed, he kissed her lips—thoroughly messy with his semen—roughly.

“Haah. Belle, you really… drive me crazy.”

Feiran growled, moving his tongue along the white line of semen that trailed from her lips down to her chest. Panting against his breath, Isabelle whispered slyly.

“Mmm… So… you hate it?”

“How could I?”

The girl who was ignorant of carnal love had vanished, and before him was a seductress who drove him insane. Yet in whichever form, her ability to make him lose his mind remained identical. Even after getting married and having children, he wanted her consistently—no, more and more.

Feiran lifted her legs, which had been resting off the bed, placing them wide apart on the mattress before positioning himself between them. Licking her soft thighs with his tongue and lightly biting them with his teeth to caress her, he slowly approached the place he desired.

Without hesitation, he buried his lips into the deep spring from which the rich scent of a mature woman lingered heavily. Feverish groans began to burst from Isabelle’s mouth. His textured tongue rubbed against her inner walls.

The straight bridge of his nose poked and stimulated her rounded clitoris. As he forcefully sucked at her lower entrance with his lips, love juice trickled forth like a bursting flood. Isabelle slid her hands through Feiran’s soft, golden hair.

“Ah… Ran. Hurry. Put it in, hurry.”

No further foreplay was needed. She wanted to harbor his length right this instant. Though he had already ejaculated once, his shaft—re-erecting in an instant—drove straight into Isabelle, parting her flesh. Her inner walls wrapped around his length, squeezing it tightly. Resting one knee on the bed with one of Isabelle’s legs draped over his shoulder, Feiran moved his hips forcefully. The sound of tangled hair and wet flesh rubbing together filled the room.

Ever since giving birth to the children, Isabelle had always been careful lest her voice leak outside, but today she lacked the strength to hold back her cries.

Her pale breasts heaving in rhythm with Ran’s movements, her cheeks flushed pink, her red lips that had harbored his length, the intoxicating groans echoing in his ears—everything about Isabelle stimulated him.

Withdrawing until the tip of his glans barely caught, he drove it deep to her root with tremendous force, causing Isabelle to tremble violently at the intense stimulation that felt as though it would split her whole body.

“Ah! Ran! It feels so good… hng. It feels too good.”

Her head spun rapidly. As she called his name amidst her groans, Feiran leaned his body down, embracing Isabelle as he moved his hips at a rapid pace.

Beads of sweat trickled down his firm muscles. Burying his nose into Isabelle’s nape, he found absolute satisfaction in the mixture of his fragrance and hers.

Kissing her gently starting from her nape, he bit and sucked on the plump lips he had been longing to devour since earlier. Thrusting his tongue between her lips, he moved wildly. As if punishing his rough movements, Isabelle’s inner walls contracted powerfully, biting down on his length. It squeezed so tightly as if it would chew and swallow it whole right then and there.

Letting out a rough groan, Feiran pushed his shaft to the deepest recesses within her, pouring out the lust he had held back. Remaining inside Isabelle as she continued to squeeze him hotly, he rested his head against her nape.

“I love you. My eternal lady, Isabelle.”

“I love you too. My Emperor, my husband, my man, Feiran.”

Her lips, chirping so adorably, were devoured by Feiran once again in an instant.

It was almost evening the following day when the two finally emerged.

And even then, they would not have come out had it not been for Mariella making a fuss outside as if she would burst through the door at any moment.

Because the room had been locked using magic power so others could not enter, Mariella and Julian—who had only just awakened their magic—could not open it, so leaving it as it was would not have posed any real problem.

However, because he hadn’t blocked the noise from outside just in case of an emergency, Isabelle heard Mariella’s voice, leaving him with no choice.

Looking at her father who emerged from the room emanating a menacing aura, Mariella vowed to herself that she would never live so besotted with a spouse. However, that vow becoming utterly useless was a matter of the not-so-distant future.

[Story End]

Here was a short story for everyone! I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but it was definitely not the route that the author took haha. But I still liked it. I hope you guys did too.