CHAPTER 94………………………
: I Want to Bathe Together.
The firewood inside the old fireplace crackled as the flames roared hotly.
“It’s only a matter of time. Celya, who’s been branded a witch, will come back to us.”
Vincent, half slouched in the chair before the fireplace, glared with a glint of madness in his eyes.
Gabriel, perched on the bed, curled his lips into a sly smirk.
It had already been several days since Gabriel arrived at this shabby inn.
The creaky bed, the worn fireplace, the faded green curtains—
Having lived lavishly off the money he made by selling Celya to men, staying in such a place was unbearably uncomfortable.
“There’s no way Celya will come back. At least, not to the viscount’s manor on her own.”
At Gabriel’s words, Vincent furrowed his brow.
“But you said yourself—when Celya has nowhere else to go, she’ll return to us.”
Gabriel clicked his tongue.
“You believed that? Even after she learned that you tried to pull tricks on her at night? With her temper, she’d sooner kill herself than return to you.”
“…You!”
Vincent leapt up and grabbed Gabriel by the collar, his face contorted with rage.
“You deceived me, you vile thing!”
Gabriel burst into laughter. Then, stopping suddenly, he looked Vincent in the eye.
“Brother, did you know? Every man who calls Celya a witch secretly longs to have her for himself.”
“…”
“And you’re just one among countless men—like grains of sand in the desert. You’ll never truly possess her.”
Smack!
Vincent slapped Gabriel hard across the face. His head snapped to the side.
“I’ve watched Celya longer than anyone! On what grounds do you spout such filth?”
Vincent struck him again.
“If you hadn’t sold her off to the Imperial Palace while I was gone, we wouldn’t be running from that damned Captain of the Imperial Knights!”
Vincent raised his hand again, but before he could strike, Gabriel drove his knee into Vincent’s groin.
Agonizing pain surged through him.
“Aaagh!”
Vincent collapsed to the floor, writhing in torment.
Rising from the bed, Gabriel looked down at him with disdain.
“Instead of feeling ashamed for lusting after a sister who doesn’t even share your blood, you take it out on me?”
“…!”
“If you went as far as sneaking into that wretched girl’s room, you should’ve done it properly. Instead, you wave around something that barely works and slap my face.”
Gabriel rubbed his stinging cheek, curling his lips into a mocking smile.
“You know nothing beyond bedding prostitutes. In the end, we’ll all be ruined. Because of Celya.”
Gabriel recalled the last time he saw Dietrich.
It had been pouring rain, as though the sky itself had torn open.
Soaked, shivering, and pretending to look pitiful, he had stood before Dietrich. Yet not a flicker of emotion showed in the man’s eyes.
Like weeds on the roadside, stones kicked underfoot, or dust floating in the air—Dietrich looked at Gabriel with even less regard than for those.
He had even tried to throw Gabriel into prison.
If things had gone differently, Gabriel might now be rotting in a rat-infested cell instead of staying in this dingy inn.
Biting his lower lip until it bled, Gabriel seethed.
Celya had taken the one thing he could not have: Dietrich.
Even escaping prison did nothing to quell the burning jealousy.
So Gabriel began publicly branding Celya a witch, stirring rumors in places far from the Imperial Palace. Whispering among family members only made the effect spread faster.
Celya’s supposed powers didn’t matter to Gabriel at all.
What he could not endure was that Celya, whom he had always considered beneath him, now stood above him, looking down with superiority.
If Dietrich abandoned her under the weight of such accusations, that would be enough. Better yet, if she were tied to the stake and burned alive before the crowd.
But events unfolded in the exact opposite way.
Rather than discarding Celya, Dietrich was throwing anyone who dared call her a witch straight into prison.
The cells had grown so overcrowded there was no room left to hold more prisoners.
Gabriel knew then: Dietrich would never abandon Celya.
And now, things had reached this point.
“We’re doomed, brother,” Gabriel murmured, staring down at the writhing Vincent.
“And not just us. All of Abelon will collapse. The lecherous emperor is dead, the crown prince too, and now even the brilliant new emperor from House Grederick—no one knows if he lives or dies…”
Vincent, struck squarely in the groin, could do nothing but writhe in agony.
“My foolish brother, you’ll never understand what I mean.”
“…G…Gabriel!” Vincent bellowed hoarsely.
Just then, footsteps echoed from beyond the door.
Several people had stopped right outside their room.
“Capital city, Bentamin Street No. 430. A shabby inn with a faded green roof, no signboard. We checked Rooms 302 and 303—no one inside,” Anderson reported.
Dietrich narrowed his brows.
“Any sign of occupation?”
“The fireplace was still warm, and the rooms were in disarray.”
Dietrich glanced coldly at Viscount Brillion, who still lay unconscious.
“Either they left in a hurry, or someone else got to them first. Lock this one up somewhere he can’t escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
Closing his eyes briefly, Dietrich spoke again.
“No word from Illeon yet?”
“None. We’ve searched everywhere in the capital, yet no trace of him. Duke Portman’s side is quiet too. Could they be acting together?”
“Most likely. Both hail from the Triumvir Dukes—they’ll find common ground.”
All day they had searched, but no clue to Illeon’s whereabouts had surfaced.
That evening, Dietrich and Celya returned to the palace residence to discuss their next moves.
Celya, after removing her armor, went into the bath to wash.
Splash.
Immersing herself in the hot water of the marble tub, she felt some of her suffocating tension lift.
Knock, knock.
A knock startled her. She turned toward the door.
“It’s me.”
At Dietrich’s voice, Celya’s guard softened.
“…What is it?”
“Wondered if the water was too hot.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Nothing uncomfortable?”
Celya thought Dietrich was overprotective. Though, given all they’d endured to reach this point, perhaps it was understandable.
She looked down at herself.
Her pale skin was flushed, still marked by traces Dietrich had left upon her.
To think—this was the same man who once stared at her bare body without even a twitch of expression, yet now pushed her so fiercely she nearly lost consciousness.
“Would you rather I had something to complain about?” she asked wryly.
“No. I just want you to always be at ease.”
“…”
“No one should ever threaten you. Every misfortune should pass you by.”
Celya felt warmth bloom in her chest.
“If you’re fine with it… I’d like to bathe together,” Dietrich said.
She looked at the tub—it was large enough for two with space to spare.
“Come in.”
At her permission, Dietrich entered.
He wore only a robe, his well-defined chest and abs visible.
Celya realized she’d been thoroughly outmaneuvered.
When their eyes met, Dietrich smiled brightly, narrowing his own.
“So you planned this from the start, didn’t you?” she muttered, sinking deeper into the water.
“Yes.”
Dietrich lathered a bar of rosemary soap in his hands until foam formed.
“I’ll wash you. Give me your arm.”
Celya let him take over.
The foam spread from her arm across her body, guided by his careful touch.
She watched quietly as Dietrich tended to her with patient hands, soap and water caressing her skin.
If only she could enjoy this moment without worry.
But unease lingered—unease born of Illeon, who had destroyed her kingdom. Only with the fall of this damned Abelon Empire itself would her rage and fear finally vanish.
Even now, she felt as if Illeon was plotting some vile scheme in the shadows.
Seeing her troubled face, Dietrich lowered himself to meet her eyes, smiling gently.
“Celya. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen. So don’t worry too much.”
Strengthened by his reassuring words, she smiled softly.
“You’re right. Instead of wasting time fretting over things that haven’t yet come, I should give my all to this moment with you.”
