(171) Where is hell? (1)
Ariana thought that her whole body felt like it was crumbling. In the ecstasy that had not yet faded, she gazed at the man lying in her arms.
The moment she first met him came back vividly to her.
Back then, she never dreamed that she would end up in a relationship like this with this man.
To the woman who had lived a life of abuse and neglect at the Duke of Bronte's mansion in the West, the monarch of the North was an extremely distant figure.
Even after sharing thoughts with Cyrus, she could not shake the feeling that he was trying to use her. Otherwise, there was no way the Lord of the North, known as the God of the Moon, would be nice to a worthless outcast with nothing in his hands.
But now she understands.
That this gaze, this tenderness, and this smile are directed solely at her.
Suddenly finding him adorable, she reached out her hand toward his cheek. As she stroked his excessively handsome face, he laughed softly and kissed Ariana's wrist.
"Is it still not enough?"
“You are truly a man who is never satisfied.”
"You need to be at least this good to keep the throne."
Pushing away his chest as he tried to pounce on her again, Ariana narrowed her brows in discomfort.
"I'm not as strong as you, so I feel like I'm going to die right now."
"I guess I should tell Isaac to make a medicine that restores stamina and is good for health."
Lust-filled eyes scanned Ariana's entire body. Ariana pulled the blankets over herself and glared at him.
He smiled again and stroked Ariana's slender belly.
"So, are you feeling a bit better today? This party was practically your world."
"It’s not the kind of emotion that can be resolved with just this."
“Tell me, Rian. What on earth did they do to you?”
Only then did she recall that he knew Ariana's time. And only then did she realize that he had known, yet hadn't asked anything until now.
As she recalled that moment, her heart, which had been filled with heat, grew cold rapidly. With a heart frozen like Cyrus's body temperature, Ariana spoke calmly.
“Do you remember the day you first saw me?”
“Of course. I can vividly recall every moment I met you.”
"In my past life, I couldn't escape that room."
Cyrus listened quietly to Ariana's story. He took in the desperate and painful time her lips created.
She shared the things she had to do because she wanted to receive even a single piece of affection, and the moments when she was not repaid despite that.
His heart ached at the voice that flowed out calmly, as if all of that were nothing.
"The time I spent trapped in that prison, unable to drink even a single drop of water properly, is still vivid. The rough sensation of the rope strangling me, the feeling of the moment I breathed my last—they are still here."
Ariana pointed to her slender neck.
"Remain here."
Ariana thought that her whole body felt like it was crumbling. In the ecstasy that had not yet faded, she gazed at the man lying in her arms.
The moment she first met him came back vividly to her.
Back then, she never dreamed that she would end up in a relationship like this with this man.
To the woman who had lived a life of abuse and neglect at the Duke of Bronte's mansion in the West, the monarch of the North was an extremely distant figure.
Even after sharing thoughts with Cyrus, she could not shake the feeling that he was trying to use her. Otherwise, there was no way the Lord of the North, known as the God of the Moon, would be nice to a worthless outcast with nothing in his hands.
But now she understands.
That this gaze, this tenderness, and this smile are directed solely at her.
Suddenly finding him adorable, she reached out her hand toward his cheek. As she stroked his excessively handsome face, he laughed softly and kissed Ariana's wrist.
"Is it still not enough?"
“You are truly a man who is never satisfied.”
"You need to be at least this good to keep the throne."
Pushing away his chest as he tried to pounce on her again, Ariana narrowed her brows in discomfort.
"I'm not as strong as you, so I feel like I'm going to die right now."
"I guess I should tell Isaac to make a medicine that restores stamina and is good for health."
Lust-filled eyes scanned Ariana's entire body. Ariana pulled the blankets over herself and glared at him.
He smiled again and stroked Ariana's slender belly.
"So, are you feeling a bit better today? This party was practically your world."
"It’s not the kind of emotion that can be resolved with just this."
“Tell me, Rian. What on earth did they do to you?”
Only then did she recall that he knew Ariana's time. And only then did she realize that he had known, yet hadn't asked anything until now.
As she recalled that moment, her heart, which had been filled with heat, grew cold rapidly. With a heart frozen like Cyrus's body temperature, Ariana spoke calmly.
“Do you remember the day you first saw me?”
“Of course. I can vividly recall every moment I met you.”
"In my past life, I couldn't escape that room."
Cyrus listened quietly to Ariana's story. He took in the desperate and painful time her lips created.
She shared the things she had to do because she wanted to receive even a single piece of affection, and the moments when she was not repaid despite that.
His heart ached at the voice that flowed out calmly, as if all of that were nothing.
"The time I spent trapped in that prison, unable to drink even a single drop of water properly, is still vivid. The rough sensation of the rope strangling me, the feeling of the moment I breathed my last—they are still here."
Ariana pointed to her slender neck.
"Remain here."
Her voice was monotonous, but her fingers were trembling. Feeling sorry and pained by it, Cyrus carefully took her hand.
He asked while carefully kissing each of her fingertips.
“What must I do for you to escape that pain?”
"Nothing."
Ariana's answer came back immediately.
"You don't have to do anything."
“Because you're happy just being by my side?”
"I didn't exactly ask you to stay by my side."
"My woman is mischievous."
“I was never yours, Cyrus. You are mine.”
Cyrus laughed because he liked the remark.
“Right, that’s right. I forgot you’re the one holding my leash.”
Ariana embraced Cyrus as he snuggled into her chest. As she stroked his soft hair, her turmoil subsided, and she gradually felt better.
"I guess this is why people raise animals."
Recently, it was fashionable for imperial nobles to raise small puppies or cats.
"Maybe I should get a puppy, too."
"Just raise me."
"Because you are too big and hideous."
"Oh, dear. Didn't you say your heart races when you see me?"
"That’s because if my heart doesn’t beat, I’ll die."
The breath he let out with a laugh trickled down her cleavage. She quickly pushed his face away before she was consumed by a strange sensation.
"Let's go now."
"How heartless."
Cyrus grumbled as he got out of bed. While he picked up the clothes on the floor and put them on, Ariana glanced at his body.
Just like before, they were pressed together, so she had no chance to properly admire his physique. Her face flushed at the sight of his broad, flat back and finely sculpted muscles twitching with his movements.
“What are you staring at? You could just look openly.”
Startled by the slow voice, Ariana pulled the blanket up over her face. Cyrus, who was already fully dressed, approached, pulled the blanket down, and met her eyes.
He spoke with sparkling eyes, looking delighted.
"You're quite shy."
“As I said, I have seen it all, Lord of the North. There is no reason to be shy now.”
"Oh, for that."
Cyrus gently bit Ariana's ear.
"It's red here."
As Ariana glared at him, Cyrus giggled and sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked Ariana's head.
Cyrus said, gazing with great fascination at the sight of the sky-blue hair catching strand by strand on his white fingers and then flowing down.
"Victoria Bronte has been consistently consuming hearts. Side effects must be appearing."
"Do you mean being unable to control her emotions?"
“Right. To begin with, those of the Paganus bloodline would rarely experience such side effects, but those who became Paganus after undergoing a blood ritual inevitably suffer from them. They easily lose their reason.”
Ariana recalled the moments when Victoria had failed to keep her composure. Victoria, whom Ariana knew, was not someone who would easily show her emotional turmoil.
She was someone who hid her emotions better than anyone else, shrewdly assessed the situation, and made the atmosphere of the moment her own.
However, Victoria could not do anything at this party.
"The more I provoke her, the more Victoria will lose her reason."
“If, as you say, the Third Prince is aiming for the throne, and the Lord of the West made Victoria Bronte perform a blood ritual to help him.”
“The talks between the Third Prince, the Western Lord, and the current King Paganus must be over. It seems things will proceed even faster than in my past.”
"Is it because you provoked them?"
"Probably. The blow from the perfume business was severe, and having incurred the Emperor's wrath because of it, he must have become anxious. And that anxiety."
"It attracts failure."
Ariana and Cyrus looked at each other and smiled.
“From now on, Victoria will endlessly attend parties. While trying to restore her honor, she will likely try to trample on me.”
“But since that is impossible, it will run wild.”
"Judging by the way she acted today, it seemed like she had already lost control."
Ariana recalled Victoria's ridiculous appearance.
She has blind faith in herself.
It started with the conviction that even if she wore a dress like the Empress's, she would attract everyone's attention and receive favorable reviews.
“In a situation like that, having received the Empress’s protection when I was practically a maid of the Bronte family, she must be burning up inside. Nothing will register in her eyes. She probably won’t even be able to think right now about marrying the Third Prince and becoming the most precious woman. Probably not.”
A cold smile appeared on Ariana's lips.
“She will try to break my wings.”
“If it were your wings, me?”
Ariana looked at Cyrus with a dumbfounded expression.
“The Northern Lord is the one who has absolute faith in yourself. Why do you think you are my wings?”
"Of course, since I’m clinging to you with no intention of letting go."
"Isn't that just a leech?"
“...”
Cyrus made a sulky face, but Ariana ignored him.
“My wings are the Eastern people. Especially Geor and Averaster. Victoria probably didn’t like the sight of those handsome men glaring at her to protect me.”
“Rian, listen up. You seem to have forgotten, but I’m pretty great, too.”
"You don't know your place."
Thinking she was talking to him, Cyrus flinched. Ariana smiled at him with a smile as beautiful as dew and spoke.
"It looks like they will try to eliminate Geor and Averaster."
"It's greedy," Cyrus thought.
The woman he has fallen in love with is truly alluring, making his heart tremble and stop at the same time. And she does so very naturally and subtly.
That was so lovely and pretty that Cyrus unconsciously cupped Ariana's cheeks with both hands and squeezed them.
“You’re so pretty I want to squeeze you and burst you, Princess.”
Ariana laughed loudly.
The sound of that laughter was so pleasant to hear that Cyrus found himself laughing along without realizing it. Ariana lightly bit his wrist and then spoke.
“Can you keep an eye on Geor and Averaster?”
“The Eastern Little Lord and the Young Duke will be saddened to hear this. Do you think they would be defeated by someone like Victoria Bronte sent?”
"It's not that, though..."
Of course, it wasn't that she didn't trust their skills. But a surprise attack was a different matter.
“They know nothing. In a situation where they suspect nothing, even an attack by a child on the roadside can inflict a fatal wound.”
“Then just let them know. They would give their lives if you just said a word asking for help.”
Her heart sank at those words.
Her heart ached as she recalled the desperate sight of Russell, who had taken up a sword to avenge Ariana despite having lost everything.
“That... can’t be.”
A cracked voice came out.
“That won’t do. I can’t drag them into this hell.”
Thanks to Cyrus, the guilt she had briefly forgotten returned.
The foolish and cruel past days when she took everything away from them under the pretext of being neglected. She felt suffocated by the guilt that swelled in proportion to the growing affection for her family.
They are just like they are now.
Happily, knowing nothing. Clear as that blue sky. Clean as an unstained towel.
I hope you live.
“Which one is hell, Rian?”
Cyrus curled the ends of Ariana's hair.
“Is it hell to not know that your daughter has fallen into hell until you find out the truth later, or is it hell to get the chance to hold her hand when she begs to be saved from hell?”
Hearing the low voice, Ariana recalled thr dream. She remembered the endless darkness and despair that overwhelmed her when she became Russell, who had lost his child.
The trembling blue eyes met the clear, unwavering red eyes.
"Which side is truly the hell of a father?"
Cold lips wiped away the tears streaming down the cheek.
“From what exactly does the hell of the warm and gentle White family originate?”
A cold breath brushed against Ariana's cheek as if to comfort her.
"These small, pretty hands your family reached out asking for help."
A large hand rested on top of the small hand. Clasping their hands tightly as if never to let go, Cyrus spoke.
“Will it really be considered hell?”
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