CHAPTER 32:
The Kiss
“I knew it.”
Dietrich’s words sounded as if he had anticipated her escape all along.
Celia glared at him, eyes wide.
From the beginning, Dietrich had only ever intended to use her.
That meant wherever she went, it was her choice—Dietrich had no right to interfere.
“Teaching me dagger skills must have been to lower my guard.”
Celia didn’t trust him. She scolded herself for even briefly expecting anything more.
Dietrich looked down at her calmly, unfazed by her wariness.
Perhaps frightened of incurring his wrath, the knights who had been nearby had disappeared completely.
Not even the sound of wind or footsteps could be heard—as if time itself had stopped.
“Celia.”
His low, deep voice echoed in the silence.
The way he said her false name was unnecessarily sensual.
When Dietrich stepped closer, the distance between them narrowed.
Resting one arm against a stone pillar, he stared down at her.
Celia’s reflection filled his crimson eyes.
The way he looked at her, like a cat observing a mouse, made her grip the dagger in her hand tightly enough to make her veins pop.
“Don’t take a single step. If you still consider me your master, even a little.”
Even as she said it, Celia knew how absurd it sounded.
Dietrich stopped moving.
“Master?”
He tilted his head slightly. The shadow deepened across his sharp nose.
“Yes… master.”
He echoed the word, almost savoring it, slowly blinking his eyes.
“Go back to the stables. I say this for your sake.”
Celia ignored him.
She glanced around.
Lavender trees dotted the area around a fountain adorned with angel statues. Between the neatly trimmed trees, spotless white sculptures gleamed under the sunlight.
Seeing no one in sight, Celia took a step forward.
“It’d be wise to go back while I’m being civil. Unless you want to get hurt.”
At his threat, Celia shot him a glare filled with fury.
“You must have controlled the Emperor this way, too. Pretending to care when you never saw him as your master in the first place.”
“…”
“Disgusting.”
Dietrich said nothing. Celia scoffed quietly at his silence.
Anywhere would be better than staying with a man whose motives were so opaque.
She tried to walk past him.
At that moment, harsh sunlight fell across her face.
She squinted, and just then, Dietrich’s shadow fell over her.
Where the blinding sunlight had been moments ago now stood Dietrich, clad in black armor.
“You know nothing.”
He looked at the dagger in her hand and continued.
“You have no idea how dangerous this place really is.”
His calm voice stirred something deep inside her.
“You’re right—I don’t know anything. Because no one ever told me.”
“…”
“I only have a year left to live. What happens to this body doesn’t matter. Just leave me alone.”
Dietrich’s eyes narrowed.
“Why shouldn’t it matter? You’re my master.”
Celia let out a bitter laugh and closed her eyes.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
He was wrong to assume she planned to run.
Celia never had anywhere to escape to in the first place.
She was simply sick of being used by him.
At the viscount’s estate, she had been nothing but a moneymaking tool for a mother and daughter. A target for the desires of countless men.
The palace was no different.
Everyone always had a reason to use her.
Dietrich, standing before her, was the same. Even if he didn’t desire her physically, his intent to use her made him no different from the Brillion mother and daughter.
In a tone as if soothing a child, Celia spoke.
“Is my power that valuable to you? If you need it, I’ll give it to you.”
With her free hand, she gently caressed Dietrich’s neck.
The wound she had given him remained visible over his black armor. The bleeding had long stopped, but a scar remained.
Her hand slowly traced along his firmly set jaw.
His calm, dignified gaze didn’t waver at her touch.
Eventually, her soft hand reached his pale pink lips.
As she pressed on his tightly sealed mouth, Celia thought:
“I barely have a year left to live anyway.”
“Even a miracle would be needed to survive another six months.”
She had killed the Emperor, only for his son to covet her and reduce her to a mere concubine.
Maybe she should use her power again to kill the Crown Prince too.
But if she did that, she might end the Avalon bloodline—but she’d also lose the chance to uncover her real enemy forever.
“Is the true enemy really the Three Dukes? How can I believe that when all you do is manipulate me?”
The so-called Angel of Brillion was nothing but an illusion. Beneath it was Celia, rotting inside, sharpening a blade of revenge.
Revealing her true feelings would be foolish.
“If I kiss you now… how will you react?”
She had called herself his master, but in truth, she had nothing.
With the Crown Prince publicly declaring her his concubine, Dietrich could turn on her at any moment.
Celia needed to know—once and for all—if Dietrich would stand with her or not.
“If you can accept what I’m about to do without hesitation…”
Sometimes, a single action reveals more than a hundred words.
This wouldn’t be just a kiss.
It was a test.
A test to determine if she could trust him.
A test from someone pushed to the edge.
If Dietrich passed, Celia was willing to listen to him—at least a little.
She withdrew her hand from his lips and tucked the dagger into her clothes.
Dietrich watched her silently.
Then, Celia tugged on his collar and kissed him.
Soft lips touched, followed by warm breaths.
Like asking him to part his lips, hers bit down gently.
Dietrich was startled at first—but quickly understood.
Celia had never done something so bold, even while saying all kinds of things.
He realized she was testing him.
As he opened his mouth, their breaths intertwined.
Celia thought he would push her away any second.
But instead, he did the opposite.
He let her explore him as she pleased.
Even lowered his head so she could kiss him more easily.
She realized—he knew she was testing him.
Celia wrapped her arms around his neck like rebuking him.
For a moment, his body tensed.
Surely now, he would push her away.
Even if he needed her power, he couldn’t endure this, right?
She pulled him closer and deepened the kiss.
But again—he didn’t push her away. He stayed right there.
Letting her take his breath. Letting her taste him.
Something was wrong.
It was strange.
That he didn’t resist. That his saliva tasted strangely sweet.
As they kissed, strength seemed to return to her tired body.
She thought she was imagining things.
Even after minutes passed, when he still didn’t pull away, she was the one who ended the kiss.
A thin string of saliva stretched between them as she did.
Opening her eyes, she found Dietrich’s expression blank.
Not even his earlobes were red. He stared at her calmly, unwavering.
He hadn’t pushed her away.
But that was all.
He endured it—knowing it was a test—but didn’t respond.
Celia bit her lip, thinking herself a fool for trying to test him this way.
She began to pull her hands from around his neck.
Then—Dietrich wrapped an arm around her waist.
Startled, she looked up at him.
His face, so calm until now, was filled with a raw, unfamiliar emotion.
It seemed like fury, confusion, hatred, and bloodlust all tangled together.
She wondered if he might kill her.
But instead, he kissed her—just like she had done to him.
Their breaths mingled. Her lips parted instinctively.
Taking it as permission, Dietrich plunged into her mouth.
Their breathing synced, tangled.
His free hand gently cradled the back of her neck.
What had begun from suspicion, born of mutual distrust, turned into something more.
Celia had no idea why Dietrich was responding this way. Maybe he was furious at being tested.
She tried to turn her head away.
But Dietrich didn’t let her go.
His once-controlled breath grew rougher by the second.
The man who had started so calmly now seemed almost angry, ravaging her mouth.
With his harsh breath, something soft kept pushing in.
Over and over again, endlessly, as if time had stopped.
