Chapter 89. A Hot Night (2)
“Where is His Grace?”
Ignoring my question, Enolius looked at Whitley and asked,
“How much does Her Ladyship know?”
Whitley glanced at me, looking troubled. He didn’t seem sure how much I knew about the curse.
I quickly added,
“I know to some extent.”
Norton and Whitley both looked to Enolius, as if it was his place to explain.
Enolius pressed his lips together and rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning. He seemed unsure where to begin.
The delay made my mouth go dry.
“Is His Grace having a rampage?”
“…”
“Enol.”
Grumbling about why he had to be the one to say this, Enolius bit his lip and finally spoke.
“His Grace has periodic mana rampages.”
“I know.”
“Thanks to his training, the destructive power can usually be contained inside this building. But the pain to the person is severe—his organs twist, blood surges the wrong way through his body. It’s like being torn apart.”
I tried to stay calm, but my clenched fists trembled.
“I was hired to lessen His Grace’s pain. When he goes into a rampage, I cast recovery magic to minimize internal injuries and reduce the pain as much as possible.”
So Enolius had been hired because of Loic’s curse.
— “Only a mage can craft a sword that can withstand His Grace’s mana or set defense stones at the borders. Recovery magic also needs to be very high-level.”
Perel’s words came back to me.
So Enolius’s specialty was recovery magic.
“And now?”
My voice shook on its own.
Why were we all standing out here?
If Loic was rampaging, he should hurry in and cast recovery magic.
“…My recovery magic isn’t working.”
“What?”
“The interval was longer than expected. It’s been over five months since the last rampage.”
Enolius kept glancing at Whitley, unsure if he should say this much, then continued.
“That was probably thanks to Your Ladyship. Because you…”
He wouldn’t say it clearly, so I cut in.
“Because I can vent His Grace’s mana?”
Whitley’s eyes widened a little.
“Because I can ease His Grace’s pain—that’s why you called me, isn’t it?”
“Y-You knew that as well?”
Loic had never told me I could lessen his pain. He probably didn’t want to burden me.
“So we’ve shamelessly asked for Your Ladyship’s help,” Whitley said, sounding oddly relieved.
“It may be dangerous,” Enolius warned, glaring at Whitley as if he disliked this plan. “Even I have never tried direct contact with His Grace during a rampage.”
“But…” Whitley looked up, eyes reddening. “His Grace must be suffering terribly.”
The old butler’s mouth trembled.
It seemed Norton had brought me, while Whitley, grasping at straws, and Enolius, worried the backlash might hit me, argued over it.
Norton stood beside us, too anxious to speak.
From the looks of it, Loic had been in pain for quite a while.
“Open the door,” I said to Enolius, blocking the way. “I’ll go in.”
“This isn’t something to decide so easily.”
But I felt a firm certainty.
Hadn’t I felt it each time I touched the Grand Duke?
The heat that spread through me whenever I held his solid hand—my body clearly matched well with his.
It might be more effective for me to “open the way” so no wounds can prevent Enolius from healing the wounds after with recovery magic.
Above all, thinking of that gentle man in pain made my chest burn.
How much must it hurt to make Whitley wear that expression?
“I just decided the hard part—so move,” I said.
Enolius sighed in frustration and finally unlocked the door.
The room inside was pitch-dark.
A wind heavy with heat swirled faintly like a vortex.
“We turned off all the lights to avoid stimulation,” he said.
I stopped Enolius when he tried to follow.
“I’ll go alone.”
“What? But in case—”
“It’s fine.”
I didn’t want to show an undignified state to the mage. I pushed him back.
“Don’t come in until I call.”
“But—”
“Don’t come in.”
“…If anything happens, shout at once,” he said, worry etched on his face.
I pushed him out and shut the door.
Left alone, my heart thudded—the air in the room was harsher than I expected.
The bare room held only a bed.
No one’s on the bed…?
As my eyes adjusted, I finally saw a faint, wavering shadow under the bed.
“Loic?”
When I got closer, I saw a large man crouched there, both wrists locked in restraints.
Seeing his big body huddled and shaking in agony made my heart drop.
“Loic!”
I dropped to my knees beside him.
He let out a ragged groan and managed to lift his head.
Black bangs slid down, and then the sharp lines of his face emerged—twisted with pain.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”
He didn’t seem to understand me.
Those gentle black eyes from just hours earlier were now a clear, burning gold.
Reason was gone; only something wild and primal remained.
The bloodshot, unfamiliar gaze made my heart sting.
“Hold on. I’ll make it stop hurting soon.”
Harsh winds whipped around him.
I fought the fear of this unreal scene and reached out, trying to stay calm.
His body jerked in violent spasms.
I wrapped both hands around his big, trembling fist.
Heat seeped into me through his burning skin.
Is it working?
But he didn’t seem to be in any less pain.
His low groans scraped at his throat; my body shivered.
Hands aren’t enough?
Panic tightened my chest.
Maybe I needed more contact for it to work faster.
I hurriedly undid his shirt.
A broad, hard chest came into view.
There was no time to blush.
I pressed my cheek to his bare skin and hugged his waist; scorching heat washed over my face.
The flow into me was quicker than when I held his hand.
But his heaving chest still didn’t calm.
Tears trailed from his fierce eyes.
My hands shook with anxiety.
Loic—the Grand Duke—looked in unbearable pain.
Seeing him bound and writhing like a beast, my own eyes burned hot.
How did you live like this?
You endured this every month?
Before I came?
And you never let me see it?
Even though I’m the one who can ease this pain?
You never asked me once?
After a long while holding him, the convulsions eased a little.
Loic slowly lifted his face.
“Annette?”
Even with burst blood vessels and tears streaming, his eyes wavered in surprise.
“Why… are you here…”
He set a weak hand on my shoulder.
“Go… Please. It’s dangerous.”
His voice was rough, breaking apart at the edges.
I could see the bitten lip, beaded with blood.
If I can lessen that pain somehow…
“….”
Acting on impulse, I brought my lips to his.
Mm.
Loic flinched and gripped my shoulder hard.
His dry lips were hot and parched.
I didn’t know why I did it.
Maybe it was instinct.
And when the taste of blood at the split in his lips touched my tongue, he suddenly pressed his mouth to mine, urgent.
“W-Wait—mmph!”
A blazing flood rushed through me.
If holding hands felt like a spring trickling, then the moment our mouths met, it was like a dam breaking—the heat poured into me.
Every cell woke; sensation sharpened across my body.
Loic leaned more and more into me.
Breath after breath, he poured mana into me, clutching me hungrily. The clatter of restraints and our ragged breathing filled the room.
His thick body pressed me down, making my head swim.
His relentless kiss caged me completely; the world went white.
E-Enough!
Overwhelmed, I twisted away.
When I finally pushed him off and our lips parted, he licked his lips, eyes hazy. His throat bobbed as he stared at my mouth.
The wind that had been whipping around us had stopped.
Even the air that had felt sharp enough to cut skin had grown soft.
I had no idea what had just happened.
I gulped for air, breath rough.
“Just… a little more…” he murmured, voice low in my ear.
“L-Loic?”
Blushing, he parted his lips, then tilted his head and came close again.
“I held back… too long…”
His body no longer shook.
The restraints weren’t on me, but I felt frozen, unable to move.
I clenched my hands, unable to refuse the shadow falling over my face.
“My lady… my lady…”
Our lips met again; a sweet heat spread through me.
Without meaning to, I slowly closed my eyes.
Everything spun, dizzy and bright.
