Episode 53
“……”
Until now, he had only felt her with his hands in the dark—he had yet to see every part of her.
“Want me… a little more desperately.”
Antonio whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe.
Seeing her body tremble delicately beneath his fingertips, Antonio took a deep breath.
Josephine.
Not long ago, she had been a hostage princess.
A bird with broken wings, trapped in the Ruby Palace. She had struggled to appear cheerful, all the while fighting a lonely battle against fate.
Every time he recalled the humiliation and pain she had nearly endured in the Imperial Palace, Antonio couldn’t suppress the anger and disgust he felt toward his own brothers.
But now, he knew the truth: Josephine was no fragile bird. She was braver and stronger than anyone, even daring at times.
Now, she was in his arms.
Wherever Antonio’s hands touched her, something inside her seemed to slowly unravel.
Like tightly bound knots loosening one by one, his fingertips gently opened her up.
As his warm breath grazed her neck, a repressed shiver escaped her lips as a soft moan.
His gestures were bolder than ever, and each place his lips touched left crimson marks like brands upon her pale skin.
A searing, dizzying sensation spread with every stroke of his fingers. The swirling sensations conjured by his magic began to spread through her body.
When his lips brushed against her shoulder, a moan involuntarily escaped her.
“Hnn…”
When his rough palm encircled her waist, she could no longer maintain control. The waves of magic pouring into her coiled and amplified within her belly.
“Don’t just think about becoming stronger.”
Antonio moved like a musician exploring his instrument, as though searching for the deepest part of her. His hands and lips followed the shape of her body, slowly but deliberately channeling magic into her.
“Try getting to know me better instead.”
Right now, Antonio was pouring every bit of his heat into her.
When his large hand slowly slid down the curve of her waist and drew her in even closer—
“Ahh…”
She moaned.
Antonio was overcome by the instinct to melt completely into her.
Josephine’s breath ensnared him, captivating all of his senses.
Her scent, faint and sweet like wildflowers, soaked into his breath, and her smooth, porcelain skin tempted the tip of his tongue. Her nearness, her warmth and trembling, pulled him deeper.
Josephine was beautiful—she had always been.
She had always disarmed him while shaking the very last shred of reason he held. Every time her skin brushed his fingertips, every time her moans tickled his ear, Antonio feared he might lose his grip on reason completely.
Yet deep in his heart, a cold unease seeped in. A voice kept echoing in his mind: You must not cross this line.
He couldn’t forget the scene in the Imperial sanctuary. Her desperate struggle to escape the priest’s grasp. The fear and despair that had filled her eyes. Even in that moment, she had fought—not to lose herself.
Josephine had barely been saved. She had survived. But what he had seen in her was not victory, but the scars of an endless battle for survival.
Five years.
She had endured them in the Ruby Palace to stay alive, and they left behind marks that would never fade. Outwardly, she seemed strong and composed, but Antonio knew the pain hidden beneath her shell.
And he had no right to break through that shell.
He slowly lifted his hand and cupped her face.
She flinched.
Her body trembled subtly at his touch, and she instinctively recoiled.
Antonio looked into her eyes. Clear and transparent, yet still filled with anxiety and confusion. She wanted to trust him—but she also feared him.
‘Your wounds haven’t healed. Not yet.’
Antonio swallowed deeply.
No matter how gently he held her, no matter how warmly he embraced her, he couldn’t erase her past. The scars left behind by betrayal and the desperate fight to survive were buried too deep for his touch to reach.
Carefully, he withdrew his hand, silently vowing to himself:
He would not give her another wound.
Josephine was not a hostage.
She did not belong to anyone.
Her body, her heart—they were not his.
He steadied his breath, then slowly leaned forward. His forehead rested gently against hers. Her sweet breath was close. He said nothing, but his gaze said it all.
Antonio wanted her. But he would not ask for more than she was ready to give.
“I feel like I can finally breathe again.”
He murmured with a faint chuckle, as if nothing had happened. His strong arms wrapped around her.
Peck.
Antonio kissed her gently on her round forehead—a cautious kiss, like a bird pecking at its food.
It was a quiet declaration: this was as far as he would go.
The soft sunlight crept past her barely closed eyelids.
Morning had arrived, as always.
As always, I woke not in his bed but in the one assigned to me.
Even if I fell asleep in Antonio’s bed, by the time morning came, I always found myself back in mine.
It had been that way even when we lived in tents. No matter how exhausted I was when I fell asleep in his tent, I always woke up in mine.
It was his way.
His way of saying he wouldn’t cross the line—or rather, wouldn’t let it be crossed.
I washed my face with the water the count’s servant brought and quickly dressed before heading to the training yard behind the count’s manor.
Antonio was training with the knights.
I could still vividly recall how he had held me last night, tormented by the magic he couldn’t contain. And yet now, he looked perfectly normal. As if nothing had happened.
“You’re here.”
Antonio gave the knights a short break and came over to me.
“Are you alright?”
“Thanks to you.”
He replied a bit curtly. But beneath the half-rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, the reddish veins on his thick forearm stood out starkly.
“Yesterday… you were on the verge of losing control, weren’t you?”
I asked hesitantly. The aftereffects of last night still seemed to linger.
He had raised his body temperature—so much that no normal person could have withstood it.
He was pretending to be fine, but I was still worried something might be wrong.
“Yeah. Kind of embarrassing, really. I got worked up over taking down just three minor monsters.”
He smirked wryly, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“Has it happened before?”
“Of course. When creatures like wyverns attack villages in swarms, you have to fire off sword energy thousands of times with full power.”
It made me realize—having too much magic could be just as much of a curse.
“It must have been rough in Saragot.”
“Not particularly. It’s a common struggle for those with excess magic. Back then, I had just graduated from the Mage Tower and couldn’t control my power well.”
“So, back then too… did you use a Vessel to calm the heat by releasing magic into them?”
“Of course not. Haven’t I told you before? Vessels are incredibly rare on the Magic Continent.”
“Rarer than a basilisk. There might actually be more of them here in the Tristram Empire. Not that we can identify them all.”
Knight Hans chimed in beside us.
“…Why are they so rare?”
It might’ve been a dumb question from a knight’s perspective, but I was genuinely curious.
“Because there’s a Mage Tower there. If a child comes down with a fever, they take them there right away. If it’s a sign of magic awakening, they’re trained. If not, a healer takes care of them.”
Hans shrugged as he explained.
“Exactly. But here in the Arkad Continent, it’s a mess. There’s no Mage Tower to diagnose magical signs, and few mages to speak of. I only survived because I was a prince.”
“…I see.”
“If you don’t learn how to circulate magic properly, it builds up as ‘magic.’ Weak children can’t survive that. Some rare ones like you survive years of suffering and eventually awaken as a Vessel.”
“What I’m more curious about is… how did you survive the flare-ups before? Without a Vessel?”
I asked, shamelessly digging into his past.
Was there someone as close to him as I was? Had he left someone like that behind?
If there had been someone else, maybe I could finally stop my heart from fluttering.
“There’s a potion. You take it about once a month as a preventive measure.”
“It suppresses magic. But it has some side effects.”
Hans chimed in again. I worried—what kind of side effects?
“Huh? Like what?”
“Muscle pain, I think. And… he gets really cranky. Though that one might just be a him-specific side effect.”
“Josephine, would you come with me for a bit?”
Antonio suddenly changed the subject.
“Huh? Where?”
“To return the chicken. We couldn’t give it back last night since it got so late.”
