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Chapter 17
Isbrandt covered his chest, which had risen beneath the gown, with one hand, moving his fingers slightly to gauge the shape beneath the thin fabric. When he glanced down, Seren smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushed.
“It’s okay.”
“…….”
“It’s natural to be nervous, so you have to forgive it. Ah.”
Strength went into Isbrandt’s hand. Seren, stimulated by the firm palm that seemed to knead her entire chest, couldn’t help but exhale sharply.
From there, Isbrandt moved without hesitation. The ties of the gown loosened, exposing her bare skin to the heated air. Her flushed skin became sticky almost instantly. Isbrandt traced her shoulder with his lips and whispered,
“Your body has a scent.”
“Petals in the bathwater… ah!”
Seren bit her neck and instinctively arched her body. Isbrandt gently bit her flesh, as if he might consume it, then licked in a circular motion.
“Don’t.”
“Wh-what?”
“Whether it’s flowers or perfume, don’t use it. It hides the scent of your skin.”
“I-Is… huh!”
He buried his face between her breasts. His hands moved boldly over her body, spreading her thighs. As if checking the moisture gathered there, Isbrandt moved his fingers.
“Ugh, hhnng…”
Seren covered her mouth with one hand. Embarrassed by the strange sounds escaping her, she was dizzy from the direct stimulation. She understood it intellectually, but she was still inexperienced in recognizing that this was pleasure.
Her hips twitched repeatedly, her legs trembling. Though tension tried to close her knees, she could no longer resist Isbrandt, who was already between her legs.
“It might hurt a little, but endure it.”
“Ugh… okay…”
Seren let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a reply, covering her mouth with her hand. Isbrandt lifted his body slightly.
Then, when Seren inadvertently glanced downward, she gasped sharply.
“W-wait… Is…”
He had likely given her enough time to prepare mentally and physically. Without hesitation, Isbrandt thrust into her. He silenced her screams with his lips and held her fleeing body close.
Seren clung to his shoulders. He caressed her stiff tongue with his lips and stroked her back. The scream-like sounds gradually softened into whimpers.
Her wet flesh clung to him. Isbrandt felt a dizzying intoxication, as if traveling at high speed. A heady delight soaked his body.
He moved as his desire dictated. Seren, tearful, clutched his arms and pleaded,
“S-slowly… Is… slowly… hhnng!”
It felt as if her body were being split and some foreign object thrust inside. Each friction seared her delicate flesh like it was being rubbed against stone. It felt as if her insides were being branded.
“Is… Is!”
Clinging to Isbrandt like seeking salvation, she sobbed. But he ignored her completely.
He licked her tears from her eyes, devouring her wildly. Seren saw him smile, satisfied like a well-fed beast.
At the moment she reached her limit, he released himself within her. Seren thought her insides were on fire and lost consciousness.
The national wedding festival was scheduled to last five days. During this period, gifts and generosity were distributed throughout the empire.
Anyone could eat and drink freely at the festival grounds, and free performances were held. Every child under five received a small silver spoon as a gift, and churches conducted weddings for impoverished couples free of charge.
And beyond the royal offerings, even more joyful festivities occurred. People ate and drank to excess, blessing the emperor and the new empress.
In the capital, there was one more special delight: when the royal bloodline married, it was customary for them to appear on the balcony overlooking the White Flower Garden to show their noble presence. This was a rare opportunity for commoners to see the royal bloodline.
This event was scheduled for the current national wedding as well. Crowds began gathering the day before to see the immortal dragon and the jewel of noble life. To control the crowds, not only guards but also the protectorate were deployed.
The Duchess of Sons opened the chamber doors an hour before the scheduled noon balcony event. She should have prepared earlier, but she had given no thought to the matter inside.
Prepared to face the emperor’s reprimand, she opened the door. She heard whimpering and pained moans.
“Is… please, hhn… no more…”
Seren pleaded in a hoarse voice. The Duchess of Sons was not one easily startled, but this time her face flushed, and she lowered her head.
Although Seren might not have noticed, Isbrandt could hardly have failed to hear the door open. Yet neither the crying nor his rough, heated breathing stopped. The Duchess stepped back outside and knocked repeatedly on the half-open door.
“No… Is… someone…!”
A short scream echoed, then silence.
The Duchess bowed politely, remaining where she stood.
“It’s eleven o’clock, Your Majesty. There is an event in one hour.”
After a little while, sounds of movement came from the bed. Silk rustled, then Isbrandt, wearing only a gown over his bare body, emerged toward the door.
The Duchess lowered her gaze further. The emperor’s voice, cold as steel, fell above her.
“Impertinent.”
“Your Majesty, but the empress must start preparing now, no matter how late.”
“…….”
Though he did not show it, he seemed annoyed. The Duchess felt fear but remained in place. If the banquet was skipped and even the balcony event missed, Seren would become the empress who never appeared throughout the national wedding.
Isbrandt sighed, then returned to the bed. He lightly kissed Seren’s temple, still trembling, the storm of sensation not yet fully spent.
“Did you hear me?”
“Ugh… yes…”
Seren nodded, making sounds between a moan and a reply. Isbrandt pressed his lips once more to her forehead and left the bed. Though her body still craved another climax, the national wedding schedule was part of state affairs and could not be canceled at will.
“I’ll leave the rest to the Duchess. See you shortly.”
Seren again nodded, pulling the sheet over her head. She was mortified, but the exhaustion was overwhelming. She had no time to dwell on his leaving.
Hearing Isbrandt depart, she struggled to calm her still-shaky breathing beneath the sheet. Her body trembled uncontrollably, tears flowed from the inexplicable storm of sensation. Her lower body was sore and stinging, yet overwhelmed by pleasure.
The Duchess approached only after Seren managed to regain some composure. She understood Seren’s embarrassment and deliberately stood a little away from the bed.
“Your Majesty, can you rise?”
“I… I can… I must get up, right?”
Seren’s voice was hoarse from crying, mixed with metallic strain. The Duchess pitied her.
“I’ve prepared a bath. May I assist you in rising?”
Seren paused briefly. The Duchess hesitated, wondering if it might be better to cancel the event to avoid strain. Yet fearing the emperor’s displeasure, she stayed.
Seren took several deep breaths, then lifted her face from beneath the sheet. She resolved to fulfill her responsibilities and had no intention of canceling the official schedule. She also needed to get used to attendants.
Seeing her face, the Duchess couldn’t help but emit a soft exclamation. The scene on the bed was catastrophic: silk sheets were wrinkled, bloodstains visible in places, and Seren’s body bore marks and bites.
Had she kept her eyes closed, one could almost mistake the scene for a violent attack.
