Chapter 58:
“I told you not to like me.”
“I don’t. And my feelings are my own. You have no authority to order me around about them.”
Layla thought that although he was smiling like a sly fox, it didn’t feel like a real smile.
“If I order you, will you listen?”
“No. I don’t even listen to my own orders—why would I listen to yours?”
With that, he stepped closer to her.
She was acutely aware that she was only wearing a thin negligee. Her body instinctively shrank back—though it was more from a strange sense of reassurance than embarrassment.
If it had been anyone else, maybe she would’ve felt fear. But Ranier had seen her in such a state often, and she knew that if she sincerely told him to stop, he wouldn’t do anything. She trusted him that much. His past actions had proven as much.
“I didn’t call you today. How did you come?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“To tell me not to get engaged?”
“Yes.”
Layla sighed, glancing at the business documents he had brought.
“I like Sonnet.”
She said it while avoiding his gaze. In truth, she had no real feelings for Sonnet. If Sonnet had been sincere, he wouldn’t have confused her so much in the first place.
On top of that, even though she was busy with business, Sonnet had never once come to Mont.
“Sonnet Bruce came to this estate every day while you and I were doing business.”
“…I know.”
“Who do you think he was meeting?”
“Probably talking to Sister Siever about my engagement.”
“Alone in a room?”
When Ranier spoke with a crooked smile, Layla looked at him.
“We’re alone right now, too.”
At that, Ranier gazed at her with an expression she couldn’t read—somewhere between happy and upset.
“Don’t I owe you something?”
She recalled that he still hadn’t given her his blood.
“Yes, you do.”
He bit his own thumb, and when blood welled up, he smiled at her. Layla wondered if he meant for her to lick it off his hand, but instead—
“My, my.”
He smeared the blood on his lips.
“I’ll give it to you.”
“Didn’t we agree you’d only do that until the engagement?”
“The engagement ceremony hasn’t happened yet.”
Somehow, his reasoning made sense to her. But right now, that wasn’t the important part.
If she drank only the blood he willingly gave her, then the Mermaid’s Tear—the real culprit that weakened her body every time she consumed it—would lose its effect. Then she would truly become someone who couldn’t die even if stabbed or poisoned.
Thinking this, she walked toward him as if under a spell. He reached up to caress her cheek.
Layla blinked at him—it was strange that she had come this close and he still hadn’t kissed her. Maybe it was because his lips, now stained red, made him look more dangerous than usual. His red eyes already had a way of catching her gaze; now, with his lips also blood-red…
“You can bite. Even if it’s my lips, it’s fine.”
He looked down at her patiently, as if waiting.
She had to stand on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his shoulders.
“Kya!”
“Shh. They’ll hear outside.”
She was startled when he suddenly lifted her into his arms, but when she ended up looking down at him, she oddly felt reassured again. Looking up at him sometimes made her uneasy, but looking down made him seem like the same Ranier she always knew.
“Why aren’t you doing it?”
When she just stared blankly, he frowned.
“I’m deciding whether I should or not—mmph—”
Before she could respond, he pressed on her neck, making their lips meet. A metallic tang and a soft texture entered her mouth, making her let out a faint hum before she realized it.
When the taste of blood faded, she pulled away.
“I drank it all.”
He bit his lip again, drawing fresh blood.
“Even now?”
Then he kissed her again. She felt the blood on his lips smear onto hers, along with the dizzying sensation of his tongue exploring her mouth. Unconsciously, she gripped his clothes with one hand and touched his hair with the other.
He kissed her so fiercely that she almost couldn’t breathe and felt lightheaded.
For quite a while, she let herself be devoured by his kiss.
“Haa… enough now.”
Her jaw ached, and she frowned as she pulled back. Her eyes were damp, and everything looked overly clear each time she blinked.
“I guess I’ll be healthy now.”
Catching her breath, Layla said this excitedly, and Ranier smiled up at her.
“For the record, royal blood only works if you keep drinking it.”
“…What?”
She recalled the original story and doubted his words. In the novel, when Siever almost died from drinking the Mermaid’s Tear, Ranier had given her his blood once and saved her.
“With your condition, you’ll need to drink it every day for at least a year.”
“You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“You lie a lot.”
“I never lie to you. I might leave things unsaid, but I don’t lie.”
Something about that made her feel like she’d been tricked.
“Every day for a year?”
“Yes.”
He looked up at her with that sly fox’s smile.
“You said you’re only here for half a year.”
“That’s right.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll just have to see me every day.”
Layla closed her mouth. He made it sound so casual, as if promising her a future together.
“You said you don’t like me.”
“I don’t.”
“Yet you want to see me every day?”
“Yes.”
His immediate reply made her flustered.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Whether it was from the kiss or the lack of air while kissing, her heart pounded wildly, her face flushed, and her ears burned so hot she could almost hear her own heartbeat.
“Put me down now.”
“How about one more? Then you’ll only have 364 left out of 365.”
She hesitated, and before she could decide, he bit his lip again, drew blood, and kissed her once more.
The next morning, Catherine entered the room.
“Oh, my lady?”
“Huh?”
“What happened to your lips?”
“What? Why?”
Looking alarmed, Catherine peered closer.
“Did a mosquito bite you? Why are only your lips swollen?”
“Ah… uh, maybe.”
Layla’s face heated up, and she lowered her head. It was partly Ranier’s fault—but also hers. Now, she had about 350 to go.
“Can you just do my makeup quickly?”
“You should wash first, my lady.”
“Oh, right.”
She started to sit at the vanity, but when Catherine looked flustered, she quickly headed to the bathroom.
After being attended to in the bath, Layla sat at the vanity. A maid dried her hair with a towel while Catherine laid out an array of makeup palettes.
Knock knock.
‘Layla, did you sleep well?’
“Sister Siever? Come in.”
Siever walked in, still in a negligee.
“I came to give you this.”
“This is…”
Layla’s eyes widened when she saw what was placed in her hand.
“Shouldn’t this be yours?”
Siever smiled faintly.
“See you later, Layla.”
“Ah… thanks.”
When Siever left, Layla looked down at the item in her hand—it was her mother’s wedding ring. Her father had worn the other half, but he had taken it off immediately after remarrying. Layla had rarely seen the man’s ring, but she knew her mother’s well.
Her stepmother had taken it from her long ago.
“Let’s hurry with the makeup.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She was certain Siever hadn’t given it to her with good intentions. Her thoughts scattered as she looked into the mirror again.
“Your lips stand out so much… perhaps we should go with a look that emphasizes them?”
“…Fine.”
She sighed, staring at her still-swollen lips, and slipped her mother’s ring onto her right hand. She would wear it on her left when the engagement took place.
“As expected, you came, Your Highness.”
“Did I say you could speak first?”
Siever smiled innocently at Crown Prince Anasis before the ceremony began.
“Layla asked me to deliver this to you.”
Though he looked annoyed, Anasis held out his hand—curious what Layla would send him.
Siever placed the wedding ring—once worn by Layla’s parents—into his palm.
“You understand what this means, don’t you?”
With a twisted smile, Anasis slipped the ring onto his left ring finger.
“What a cute little gesture.”
He smiled in a strange way.
