Chapter 51
Sharie let out a soft cry before she could stop herself, and Kaisa’s touch grew all the more teasing.
“Really?”
He could be mischievous like this sometimes. Sharie adored him and wanted to give him anything—but when he acted like this, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed.
Instead of words, she let out a low, animal-like whine of protest. At last, he drew back.
“All right. I was being childish. Forgive me.”
He shifted away, and finally the heavy presence filling her slowly slipped free.
“Ah… hhhn…”
Exhaustion washed over her, and Sharie buried her face in the pillow, her small body trembling in the aftershocks of release.
“Hhh….”
Kaisa pressed warm kisses over her flushed shoulder, her cheek, the line of her throat.
“You were wonderful. Today, too.”
Held against his solid chest, she felt her hazy mind slowly clearing.
“Really?” She peered up at him, lips still pouty. “You truly enjoyed it?”
Unlike her, still melting in the heat of passion, Kaisa showed only a faint flush in his cheeks. His calm face betrayed little trace of desire. It was the same as last time.
“That’s a strange question. Do you think I’m lying?”
“Then… why don’t you ever go all the way in?”
At her timid question, he immediately grasped what she meant.
“You already know the reason.”
The difference between a snake-kin and a rabbit-kin was far too great. Her small body struggled even to accept his tip; if he forced his full length, it would only cause her pain.
“I know… but still….”
Even though they had shared body and soul, a vague unease gnawed at her. She couldn’t explain it—but she felt that if he ever buried himself in her completely, this restlessness would vanish. If that was the price, she thought, perhaps she could endure the pain.
“I’m uneasy too,” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear with tender fingers. “It won’t be long. Once your body has grown used to me, and it won’t hurt you… then I won’t stop, even if you beg me to.”
A strange chill ran down her spine at his words. Before she could ponder their meaning, he kissed her brow, her nose, her lips—one after another.
In his arms, the walls between them seemed to melt away. It felt as if only the two of them existed in this world. Softer than any cloud could be, his embrace was her refuge.
Just as she was about to let her eyelids fall, his voice cut in:
“I want to ask you something. Sharie, what is your cycle like?”
Her drowsiness vanished instantly.
“Don’t misunderstand,” he added with a faint smile when she only blinked in confusion. “You’ve been in Barhad for quite some time, and yet I’ve heard nothing. At first I thought the stress of a new place might have delayed it, but… is there something I should know?”
“N-no!” She shook her head quickly.
Rabbit-kin were known for their fertility—that was why they had endured against the physically stronger snake-kin for so long. But Sharie’s cycles had always been irregular.
An old physician once suggested that her body’s imbalance, born without a tail, might have extended even to her womb.
It had never mattered much before. Her grandfather had only looked at her with faint annoyance, never true anger—after all, no one expected much from her to begin with.
But now, explaining it to Kaisa, her cheeks burned.
“It’s fine. I’ve… always been irregular, that’s all.”
She faltered, and he arched a brow, clearly puzzled.
“Is this really something to be embarrassed about between us?”
She bit her lip. Among rabbit-kin, such matters were never openly discussed, even between women.
“…Do I have to tell you? It doesn’t concern you, Kaisa.”
His brow furrowed. “How can your health not concern me? It’s my duty to care.”
He laid a broad palm against her bare stomach. The warmth of the hearth made his cool touch stand out all the more, and she shivered under it.
“Are you cold?” he asked softly.
Before she could answer, he reached for the blanket that had slipped to the side. Shaking it out, he disturbed the clothes tangled inside. Something thin fluttered to the bed.
“Here—this fell.”
Sharie bent to pick it up. It was his outer coat. As she lifted it, a folded scrap of paper slipped free.
A familiar handwriting caught her eye.
Her breath caught. She unfolded it in a rush, forgetting to ask his permission.
It was her own letter—the one she had written months ago, when he had vanished into the Cedric Mountains to hunt monsters. She had sent it by falcon, but never received a reply. She had nearly forgotten.
“To my dearest… Are you well? How is the weather there?”
The letter was full of trite words, deliberately plain in case it was intercepted.
“I am healthy. I ate and slept well yesterday. And you?”
She remembered how many times she had rewritten it, cursing her poor vocabulary.
“The cook told me of your deeds yesterday. I always knew you were amazing… but still, I was astonished.”
She had hidden her fear, not wanting to burden him.
“Even the squires and the scullery boys admire you.”
At last, she had given up pretense and written her heart.
“And yet, why do I worry for you so much?
I am not a devout believer, but I pray every night to merciful Gaia that you return safe.
May I see you again soon.
With love.”
Such a short, clumsy letter—and yet, he had kept it all this time, tucked against his heart.
“You… you carried this around with you?”
She stared in disbelief. It was nothing special, nothing worthy of being treasured.
“Why…?”
He took the letter from her trembling fingers, folded it with care, and slipped it back into his coat.
“Because it was from you.”
His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as though handling a jewel.
Her chest ached. She had let fear of the future cloud her heart, even lashing out at him. Yet he had been holding her clumsy words as though they were priceless.
‘No more,’ she thought. ‘I won’t be afraid.’
Whatever came, they were husband and wife. That was unshakable.
She wrapped her arms around him. His large hands closed firmly around her waist, holding her as though he would never let her go.
