Chapter 79
Nightmare
“Never.”
The long, long kiss ended.
Her head was still spinning. Whether it was the aftereffect of the kiss or not, Rasillia tried hard to focus on Rescal’s face, which seemed twice as dazzling as usual.
“What’s… not true?”
“It was never three times.”
“Huh…?”
Rasillia counted in her head, which felt like it had stalled for a moment.
‘It was three times, wasn’t it?’
She remembered that she was the one who pressed her lips to his first. As for why she was sitting on Rescal’s thigh, or how two of the buttons at the back of her dress had come undone, or how her hairpiece had fallen and her hair had come loose—those were a little hazy. But she was sure about one thing: she had kissed him three times.
‘Maybe it was more than three…’
In any case, she’d kept her promise.
Leaning her exhausted forehead against Rescal’s shoulder, Rasillia spoke softly. Her limbs felt weak, as if they wouldn’t obey her.
“It was three times. And… would you let me down now?”
“No.”
Instead of setting her down, Rescal wrapped his arms around her waist.
With her hips perched on his thigh and his arm locking her in, it felt suspicious—uncomfortably close, and making her too conscious of the distance between them.
“It was one time.”
The way he looked at her, as though seriously debating whether it had been one or three, was far too earnest.
And besides, by now, counting didn’t make much sense.
Rasillia glanced at the clock on the wall to show that quite a lot of time had passed. It was already the hour that could be called dawn.
“It’s long past bedtime.”
“I know.”
Rescal lowered his lips close to her ear and whispered.
“Two more can wait until we wake. I won’t be greedy about that.”
He already was being greedy.
“It was three times.”
“No. Don’t you remember?”
Rescal pressed his palm against her back and suddenly leaned her down.
Her back touched the sofa with his hand still resting there. Filling her view instead of the ceiling was his face.
“When we were in this position,”
And then his lips abruptly captured hers.
Just like before, Rescal parted her lower lip, and a wet sound bloomed between their mouths.
“You turned your head aside to breathe, and so I—”
He shifted their positions again. Now it was his back against the sofa and Rasillia straddling him on top.
“—I turned my head like this.”
Still with their lips connected, Rescal tilted his head to the side. That gave her a bit of space to breathe. More than the posture, it was the little pocket of air that gave her relief.
“So the kiss never ended. Our lips never once parted.”
“What are you even—”
…talking about.
“I can prove the next part too. Our lips never separated even then.”
“…”
She fell silent, simply dumbfounded.
She had meant to insist again it was three, but her tone shifted.
“Your Majesty… you mean you were counting all that while kissing me?”
“Hm?”
Caught off guard, Rescal missed his reply for a beat.
“That’s a little disappointing.”
“No, it’s not like—”
“Whether once or three times, the fact that you were busy keeping count.”
“…”
“I wasn’t.”
Rasillia tugged at her skirts and slid off his lap.
“Since you insist, we’ll call it once. Next time, I’ll make sure to keep count too.”
“…That sounds unfair, somehow.”
Rescal yanked her back down firmly against him.
Her body pressed flatter against his this time. It didn’t hurt, but his expression was far too serious for her to think he was only joking.
“If I were to lose myself completely in a kiss, do you realize what might happen then?”
“…”
Rasillia had no answer.
She’d never experienced such a thing, nor had she ever heard of it.
And yet, she felt she wasn’t entirely ignorant either.
Because Rescal’s fingers were currently tracing the two undone buttons on her back.
“My hands moved before I knew it. I opened two. It was only when you twisted your shoulders that I came back to my senses.”
A soft, impossibly tender sound of lips brushed the point where her neck met her shoulder.
“So I did my very best.”
She didn’t need to ask what he meant by best.
Rasillia raised her hand to her ear, prompting Rescal to lift his head from her nape.
Her fingers slid through his radiant golden hair.
A kiss would eventually lead to more.
To become wholly one, they would need to go further. Before her thirtieth birthday, they would share a true union.
It was still unfamiliar, but she wasn’t afraid.
Rescal’s eyes were rimmed red. After kissing, his gaze always looked like that—shining, unblinking, unwaveringly fixed on her.
Looking at him, she finally understood what desire meant.
“Setting a date… might not be such a bad idea.”
Rescal’s voice came slowly.
“What kind of date?”
“A day when I don’t need to keep my composure.”
“… …?”
He blinked, not quite understanding.
Rasillia teased, brushing the corner of her eye.
“Until then, I’ll do my best too.”
“I’m not sure I understand correctly… you mean…?”
He wanted confirmation.
But saying it aloud was difficult.
After a brief hesitation, Rasillia lowered her hand and tugged at the tie around his neck.
His straight jawline appeared, followed by the outline of his Adam’s apple—something her own body lacked, something she’d never seen before.
“Like this.”
“…”
Rescal’s breath caught in his throat.
Rasillia undid his shirt buttons.
One. Click.
Two. Click.
Three.
“Just three for today.”
“…”
The emperor’s attire was always flawless. Rasillia regretted not knowing what effort Steward Persson put in to maintain that.
But now, seeing Rescal with three undone buttons, looking just a little disheveled, she thought it wasn’t bad at all.
‘No… not just not bad…’
Something more suggestive seemed like the right word.
‘I want to undo more.’
Her eyes were drawn to the hard, sharply angled line of his collarbone.
“I wouldn’t mind more, you know.”
Rescal grabbed her hand tightly.
His eyes burned brighter than after their kiss, golden irises shimmering dizzyingly.
Even though he said he wouldn’t mind, she knew he didn’t truly mean it—because he held her hand so tightly, pulling it down to his chin and kissing it.
“No. I don’t think I should either. Not now… I’m too unprepared.”
What lay beyond a kiss wasn’t just unbuttoning clothes. Even if she undid them all, she wouldn’t know what to do next.
“So let’s set a date. Until then, I’ll prepare little by little.”
“My head’s gone numb, so let me ask… what exactly do you mean by ‘prepare’?”
His voice, usually warm, now carried a different edge—still deep and low, but tinged with something sensual that vibrated in her ears.
“Even a prophet must have known how to undo buttons.”
Click. Rescal kissed her fingertip.
The sound trembled through her ears like his altered voice.
‘He keeps… making me tremble.’
Her fingertips, her ears. The waist he held, the inside of her thighs where they touched.
“Things that were awkward at first became natural. Like kissing, or touching.”
“Ahh… so that kind of preparation.”
“Yes.”
His fingers slowly stroked between hers.
“You can’t do that alone. You can’t kiss yourself.”
“No.”
“So you mean to prepare with me?”
“…Yes.”
“Then I like that.”
His voice was hoarse, as if roughened by a cold.
“Set the date.”
“Hmm… one month from now.”
Rescal groaned lowly.
“That feels too far.”
“That depends on you, Your Majesty.”
Where had that boldness come from?
Even she was startled by her own words.
“How? Convince me.”
“Because… we’ll be preparing together, so…”
Suddenly, Rescal silenced her with a kiss.
Her unfinished words melted into his mouth, swallowed by that familiar sweetness.
“I’ll give it my all.”
“…”
He paused just long enough to murmur that before kissing her again.
The night had long since passed the hour for sleep, yet it seemed it would continue much longer.
And at that very hour, while the two of them remained awake, someone else who had gone to bed earlier was visited by a dream.
“…Impossible!”
Eselion threw off his blanket and bolted upright.
His face was drenched in cold sweat, pale as the moonlight spilling across it. Even Tion, who was standing guard, gasped at the sight.
“Your Highness! What’s wrong?”
“Hah… I dreamed…”
“Ah, a nightmare?”
“Nightmare…”
Eselion echoed the word blankly, running a hand through his damp hair.
“Shall I fetch water?”
“That would be good.”
Tion poured water from the bedside jug and handed it to him.
Though the duke’s annex had six bedrooms, Eselion stayed in the same room as his retainers.
Even if Lady Rasillia vouched for him, the Empire hadn’t yet given official backing. If relations soured, they had to be ready to flee together at any time.
“Here, Your Highness.”
Eselion drained the cup in gulps, but his mind remained in turmoil.
“Perhaps you should try sleeping again? I doubt those monsters will show up again. And with the Empire’s reinforcements here…”
“I dreamed. But I can’t tell if it was only a dream.”
He rubbed at his eyes with his cooled palm.
It had felt far too vivid. Too real.
“What did you see? Was it a traitor?”
“No.”
He lowered his hand, revealing his twisted expression.
“I saw Lady Rasillia.”
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