Chapter 70 …
“The Younger Brother Who Became a Stranger Is Trying to Become My Husband
Millian grabbed Freya by the nape of her neck with one hand and firmly supported her waist with the other as he kissed her again.
Freya clung to him as if hanging onto him, returning the kiss.
They had been kissing for so long that her lips tingled. Even that felt good.
She wanted to bite into his soft lips as much as she liked.
Freya knew herself well.
Ever since she was young, whenever she became fixated on something, she would become persistent. It was like that with cherries, and like that with Toto.
And now, it felt like she had completely become fixated on Millian.
Had this wicked younger brother slowly tamed her? The voice in her head that kept shouting “no” began to fade, and her heart pounded loudly.
Now, she didn’t care anymore. She liked Millian so much that nothing else caught her eye.
She even regretted pretending not to know the answer and hesitating when it had already been decided.
She wondered if kisses were always this sweet. It was so sweet that she didn’t want to let go.
Freya looked at his lips as they parted, her expression full of reluctance.
Millian’s face was deeply flushed.
It was the first time she had seen such an expression. Freya gently cupped his face with both hands and quietly admired him.
The video had long since stopped, and only the faint moonlight allowed them to recognize each other’s faces.
Millian placed his hand over hers, which was holding his face, and said,
“Freya.”
“Mm.”
“Freya.”
“Yes, Millian.”
He called her name repeatedly, and she answered each time.
With an emotional expression, Millian moved his hand to gently stroke her cheek.
When she came back to her senses, they were on the sofa. At some point, they had moved, and she had been kissing him while leaning him back slightly.
Millian looked up at Freya with an unguarded expression. His unfocused gaze was incredibly alluring.
Her lips stung. She didn’t know how long they had been biting and sucking them.
Freya stared blankly at him.
Millian fumbled for the stand lamp beside them and turned it on.
In the soft light, his lips looked even more swollen than before. Even that looked cute, making her think she must be completely crazy.
Freya pressed his lips with her finger and said,
“You look like a fish.”
“And your lips look like cherries.”
Since she was still sitting on top of him, Freya rolled her eyes. Now that the light was on, she felt embarrassed and was looking for a moment to get off.
Watching her, Millian said,
“I’ve been thinking this for a while, but you seem to like being on top. You did the same thing at the wedding.”
“Th-that’s because! I was trying to hold you and didn’t have the strength…!”
“Really? But you’re still on top of me right now.”
He gestured toward his waist.
Because the sofa was narrow, Millian was lying awkwardly, and Freya had climbed on top of him to kiss him.
Freya’s face heated up, and she quickly got off and sat neatly beside him.
Millian chuckled softly and, without getting up, rested his chin on his hand as he looked at her.
Avoiding his intense gaze, she looked at the clock—and it was dawn.
Dawn?
Freya’s eyes widened, and she jumped to her feet.
“What’s wrong?”
Millian also sat up at her sudden movement.
Freya’s pupils shook violently.
It was her first time staying out all night. Well, she could still go back, so maybe not technically—but it was the first time she had crossed into the next day.
“My mom is going to kill me.”
Freya hurried toward the door and was about to grab the handle when Millian stepped in front of her.
“I’ll take you back.”
His clear voice softly brushed her ears. Freya looked at him and shook her head.
“Look at your lips before you say that.”
“Yours aren’t any better, Freya.”
Millian smirked.
“Ah…”
Only then did Freya realize her lips must be just as swollen as his, and she let out a low groan.
As she hesitated, unsure what to do, Millian said,
“It’s fine. I’ll take you back secretly. Everyone should be asleep anyway.”
He tightly held her hand.
Right—since it was nearby, she could sneak back into the castle.
Freya began thinking hard about how to climb a tree and sneak into her room through the window.
At that moment, Millian lightly kissed the back of her hand and asked,
“How does it feel, admitting it after just two tries?”
“Hmm… I still feel dazed. Maybe I should’ve played hard to get one more time?”
Freya grinned mischievously. Millian snorted and laughed, then gently bit her finger and said in a warning tone,
“How much more were you planning to make me suffer?”
“Huh?”
“You should be grateful I’m even letting you go home tonight.”
“Huh?”
When their eyes met, Millian smiled slyly. His expression was so suggestive that Freya slowly averted her gaze.
If she said, “What if you don’t send me home?!” it felt like he really wouldn’t—so she kept her mouth shut.
At that moment, Millian suddenly lifted Freya into his arms, carefully like a princess, and climbed onto the window ledge.
“W-what are you doing?!”
“You said we’d go secretly.”
“B-but we’re at the top floor!”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
Wrapping his body in aura, Millian jumped out the window.
Only then did Freya realize her worry had been unnecessary.
With light movements, he leapt across buildings and quickly made his way into Edmore Castle.
Feeling even more comfortable than when she rode on Toto, she looked at him quietly.
“The castle security seems pretty lax.”
“No way. It’s just that it’s me.”
“That sounds like bragging, but… you’re not wrong.”
Freya smiled brightly and gave him double thumbs up, shaking them playfully.
Millian looked at her fondly.
When they reached Freya’s room, Millian set her down. As soon as she was apart from him, she felt oddly empty.
Leaning against the window frame, he lowered his head toward her. Freya lifted her head as well.
Their lips briefly touched and parted, and he said in a sweet voice,
“Have good dreams.”
“You too, Millian.”
With that, Millian leapt away across the buildings, disappearing toward Taylors Castle.
* * *
Marquis Lazly suddenly let out a ragged breath. He stared blankly at the red blood soaking his hands.
After a moment, he gave a bitter smile and looked toward the door. His son, Deo—who he didn’t even know had arrived—approached.
Deo looked down at him coldly, saying nothing.
Seeing his unwavering eyes, the Marquis was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t the kind of expression one would expect in front of a father coughing up blood.
The Marquis shook his head lightly and muttered,
“So I raised a tiger cub.”
“…You always said, didn’t you? That who you choose to follow determines your life.”
Deo spoke in a flat voice.
At the word “sir,” the Marquis curled one corner of his mouth. By not calling him father, Deo had made his choice clear.
The Marquis coughed repeatedly, never taking his eyes off Deo. His body trembled as if it might crumble, and he barely managed to speak.
“Yes… I did. So, have you chosen who to follow?”
“Yes.”
“I see… cough!”
The Marquis coughed again, staring at his son in a daze.
In truth, he had emphasized those words so often because he himself had failed to do so. At least he had hoped his children would meet someone they could follow without regret for the rest of their lives.
But he hadn’t—and now he was meeting his end at his son’s hands.
It was a little bitter that his heartfelt advice had come back to him like this.
By his own admission, the Marquis had always been indecisive. Because of that, he often made the wrong choices or missed the right timing.
Perhaps that was why his life was full of contradictions.
He had recommended Empress Anemone to the former emperor according to her wishes—and immediately regretted it. He thought he shouldn’t have sent her away like that.
To undo everything, he helped the current emperor ascend the throne—and succeeded.
Not long after, he regretted it again, seeing her suffering.
He didn’t know why he kept making choices he would regret, but regret followed him always.
Then, a long time later, the Empress came to him again.
Even knowing why she approached him, he allowed himself to be deceived once more.
At first, he thought he had simply fallen for her sweet temptation and regretted it… but perhaps that wasn’t it. The feeling he had when he saw her cold, lifeless body—
He coughed again.
Yes… looking back, that might have been the first choice he didn’t regret. Even knowing it was like jumping into fire, he couldn’t help but return to her side.
And now, he stood on the brink of losing both his wings and his life to the fire called his son.
Unable to choose anyone, he had wavered—and in the end, was left with the fate of being killed by his own son.
The Marquis suppressed a bitter laugh threatening to escape.
After a moment, he looked at Deo with dim eyes. His lips moved as if to say something, but time did not wait for him.
His coughing stopped.
The hand at his mouth fell limply.
Seeing the lifeless eyes, Deo quietly closed them and said firmly,
“I won’t live like you.”
“….”
The Marquis gave no answer.
Deo spoke again, as if making a vow,
“I won’t live like you—”
But he couldn’t finish.
He covered his face with one hand, his shoulders trembling slightly.
The death of the Marquis—who had boasted a brilliant career and immense power—was pitifully insignificant.
