~Chapter 16~

As soon as Nicolai left, Lovelace slid back to the corner of the sofa. Larvihan stared at the pink hair slipping away from his fingers, looking stunned.

“Stay right there.”

When Larvihan tried to step closer, Lovelace tensed up.

“Why so sensitive? You laughed well enough with that Pope.”

He spoke in a sulky tone.

Lovelace hugged a cushion to her chest like a shield. Larvihan dropped into a seat, far away from her now—completely different from his clingy behavior a moment earlier.

She narrowed her eyes at him and then opened her mouth.

“Could it be…?”

“Could it be what?” he asked, locking eyes with her.

“Could it be you’re jealous?”

“What? Jealous of what?”

But Larvihan’s eyes wavered.

Yes. He was jealous.

His brow furrowed. Lovelace pressed her lips together, then apart again, trying not to laugh.

“Looks like you had fun.”

He glanced at the messy chessboard.

“Yes, I did,” Lovelace replied, teasing him.

Larvihan’s eyebrow twitched.

“You could laugh with that Pope?”

He sounded baffled.

“Why not? He’s objectively handsome.”

“So smooth faces are your type?”

“I never said he was my type. I said objectively.”

“Ridiculous. Slanted eyes, a long nose, pale as flour—how is that attractive?”

Hearing Larvihan’s description, Lovelace almost laughed.

“Then what about me?”

He braced both arms on the sofa. Lovelace pulled back quickly.

“Ah!”

Her back hit the armrest. She started to fall, but Larvihan caught her, his arm behind her back. Trapped in his embrace, she clutched her cushion tightly.

“I asked—what about me?”

“Y-you’re excellent! If only you didn’t kill people, you’d be perfect.”

“Why do you hate that?”

“Who would like blood and death? I’m not insane.”

He gave a low hum.

“So you like my face, but not my killing.”

Lovelace nodded.

“Alright.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that.

“Then, if you’re done talking, maybe you should go back to your seat?”

But his steady hand stayed on her back.

“I’m not done. From now on, I won’t kill.”

“Wh-what? Why care so much about my preference? Not killing is good, of course, but—”

“Because I want to be loved by my lover.”

Larvihan smiled—a real smile for the first time that day.

“Believe me. I won’t kill anymore.”

‘Won’t kill,’ he said. Not exactly comforting.

Lovelace’s mind raced. Should she question his words, or just accept them and escape his arms? The second choice was easier on her heart.

“Fine, I get it. So let me go.”

She pushed him back with her cushion. He looked at it, then moved away.

“But what did you enjoy?” he asked again, remembering her laugh.

“Polite speech.”

Larvihan froze, then grinned.

“Alright. Got it.”

He stood and offered her his hand. She blinked, confused.

“What are you waiting for? Take it.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to match your preferences. So take it.”

His commanding tone made her grab his hand without thinking. He pulled her up, then led her straight into her room. He pushed her inside, locked the door, and smiled.

“L-Larvihan?”

Her nerves stood on end at his innocent-looking smile.

He stepped closer. She stepped back. Each step he took made her flinch.

She stumbled on the bed and fell back. The bed creaked loudly.

“I want to match my wife’s preferences. Are you ready?”

“M-my… my preferences?”

He leaned closer, his shadow falling over her.

“In bed, I only use polite speech. And one more thing…”

“What’s that?”

“From that chess game—I saw you like risky moves. I’m good at that, wife.”

She was completely trapped in his arms. His eyes glistened down at her.

“W-wife, I’m ready.”

His hand touched her cheek. His lips hovered close. She held her breath. Her heart pounded hard. His lips brushed against hers—

This was a declaration.

Her survival instinct screamed. She shoved him with all her strength.

“Stop it!”

Whooosh—!

Cold water poured down, drenching them both.

“…So this is your preference?”

Larvihan brushed his wet hair back. Water dripped down his body.

“D-did I do this?” Lovelace stammered, covering her mouth.

“Yes, wife. You could’ve just asked me to bathe. Or were you too eager?”

She stared at her wet hand. Larvihan smirked and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Haha…”

She laughed nervously. The heat in the room faded.

“Larvihan, I think I’m talented!”

She clapped her hands. The hot tension vanished completely.

‘Unbelievable,’ Larvihan thought. Having a half-undressed man before her, she laughed. It hurt his pride—but he didn’t hate it.

‘It’ll take time.’

He sighed and tossed aside his wet clothes. Then, without warning, he lifted Lovelace in his arms. She pushed against him at first, but froze when her hand slipped inside his shirt and touched his bare chest.

Her face burned red.

“What you absorbed is powerful. Do you sense it now? Do you feel it?”

His calm voice made her heart pound faster.

When Larvihan smiled softly, her emotions shook.

She didn’t know how to describe it. When he came close, she wanted to run. When he stepped away, she wanted him near.

Her feelings for him were changing.

Larvihan noticed the shift in her eyes. His smile faded.

“You don’t feel good? Even though you now have the strongest power?”

Lovelace pulled her hand away from his chest and clenched it to her own.

Her palm still burned with his warmth. Yet the spot on his chest felt cold after she let go.

“…What are you thinking?”

He asked quietly.

Lovelace lowered her gaze.

“…It looks nice.”

Larvihan chuckled.

“If you want, I can show you as much as you like.”