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CHAPTER 11:
“Sweet”
“Hey.”
Dietrich called out to Celia.
But there was no response.
Her body was wrecked. She had used her ability for nearly half a day in such a state, and it was a miracle she had lasted even that long.
It wouldn’t have been strange for her to collapse much sooner. She had endured on sheer willpower, but now she had reached her limit. Her unconscious head slumped to the side.
“……”
Dietrich caught her head before it hit the ground. The moment he did, his hand came away stained with blood.
His gaze dropped to the dried blood stuck to the floor—it was already crusted over. She had vomited that blood a while ago.
A storm of fury boiled in Dietrich’s chest. He had even given her one of his own uniforms to wear just in case, but to think someone still dared touch her…
And that someone was his own knight.
Now, he could understand why Celia despised the men who claimed to love her.
Swallowing the twisted emotions rising within him, Dietrich gently laid her down. He brought a hand to her nose—fortunately, she was still breathing, just unconscious.
Then, behind him, came the sound of rustling.
It was clear the knight had tried to escape while Dietrich had been tending to Celia.
“You’d best stay still.”
Dietrich didn’t even bother looking behind as he spoke. The low, commanding tone froze the knight in place.
Dietrich stood and approached the knight, who was now bracing himself against the wall. His gaze fell from the knight’s pale face… down to his lower half.
“So. You managed to put your pants back on.”
The knight flinched. Eyes squeezed shut, he began to stammer out a defense.
“Y-Your Grace, this is a misunderstanding…”
Dietrich said nothing. He didn’t feel this deserved a response.
But the lack of reaction only made the knight more hopeful. He thought maybe—just maybe—he could still get out of this. He believed that surely, after four years together, Dietrich would believe him over that beautiful prisoner.
He swallowed hard and looked up.
“Your Grace, I admit I disobeyed orders, but I was only here to check on her condition. She’s important—what if she bit her tongue in the cell?”
“……”
“But then, as soon as I entered, she… seduced me. I turned her down, but…”
“But?”
The knight jerked his chin toward the unconscious Celia.
“She suddenly pulled down my pants—”
There was no need to hear more.
Dietrich muttered coldly, “You should’ve hidden those lust-filled eyes if you were going to lie.” And with that, he struck the knight in the back of the head with his sheathed sword.
The knight crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.
Celia felt like her head was spinning. Her insides were twisting painfully, and she gasped for breath.
“I-It… hurts…”
It was unbearable. She felt like she might die.
She had overused her ability. If she was going to suffer this much, couldn’t the gods have at least spared her lifespan?
She couldn’t even tell anymore whether this was a dream or reality.
Someone was looking down at her. She sensed it.
Celia tried to open her eyes but couldn’t find the strength.
She reached out—but her hand fell limply.
A rotting numbness crawled up her limbs.
“H-Help…”
The only word she could force out.
Was she afraid of dying, now that it felt real?
Celia twisted her lips, amused by her own cowardice.
Anyone, someone—please, just make it stop. Or if not, at least leave. Don’t just stand there watching her suffer.
Sorrow welled up inside her.
She was lying there like a wax figure, helpless. It was pathetic.
The words “go away” rose to her lips—but all she could do was barely move them.
Then something touched her lips.
A breath. Someone else’s.
Instinctively, Celia turned her head to avoid it.
“It’s medicine.”
Even in her haze, she heard the voice clearly.
A man’s voice, completely devoid of warmth. Annoyed, even. As if she were a burden.
“I won’t give it for free next time.”
He sounded like he was bestowing some grand favor on a dying woman. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
It didn’t matter what it was—if it could stop the pain, she’d take it.
She nodded weakly.
Immediately, liquid slid into her mouth. Despite the annoyance in his voice, his lips were surprisingly gentle.
He poured his saliva into her, unhesitatingly.
And the moment she swallowed it, the searing pain began to fade.
The sweetness was overwhelming. No oasis could compare.
Yet, he truly seemed to care only about giving her “medicine.” As soon as he finished, he tried to pull away.
Celia reached out.
Her hand caught his face.
She pulled him closer.
“More…”
And with that, she devoured his lips.
He was startled—but let her.
She traced the inside of his mouth with her tongue, desperate to drink every last drop of his saliva.
There was no shame. No hesitation.
She was addicted—to the relief, to the taste.
He didn’t stop her.
He stayed still as she took everything from him, only pulling away once she ran out of breath and slumped down.
But again—her lips sought his.
When he opened his mouth this time, she eagerly dove in.
The pain was gone. But the sweetness—she couldn’t resist tasting it again.
Like honey, his saliva flowed into her mouth.
Finally, Celia pulled away.
“Sweet…”
She gasped the word through ragged breaths.
Her lips glistened, slick with his essence.
The pain was gone. In its place was something close to satisfaction.
But she wasn’t naïve. She had a terminal condition. Pain didn’t just disappear like melting snow.
This couldn’t be real.
Still… it was the sweetest dream she’d ever had.
Terrified that waking would bring back the horror of reality, Celia allowed herself to drift off.
A soft smile lingered on her lips.
In truth, Dietrich’s healing ability wasn’t limited to bodily fluids.
But it only worked on women. He had discovered this when he had once clung to his dead mother’s body in anguish.
Visible wounds and scars could be healed just by holding someone—but it couldn’t bring back the dead.
Dietrich narrowed his eyes as he looked at the sleeping Celia.
Giving her his healing saliva had been purely out of responsibility.
If he hadn’t been away for the Emperor’s funeral, she wouldn’t have suffered.
And the knight who had harmed her was one he had personally instructed to keep everyone out. The man had a family and had served loyally for four years. Dietrich thought there’d be no issue.
That was his misjudgment.
Even though he controlled the military, he couldn’t control every individual perfectly.
The Imperial Knights were many, and most came from noble families with strong pride. Even if he subdued them with skill, their jealousy and resentment couldn’t be extinguished.
Some who once swore loyalty had even been bought by the Crown Prince and tried to kill him.
Ultimately, it was his responsibility. He hadn’t prevented what could have been prevented.
The image of Celia clinging to his collar, covered in blood, haunted him.
So he took her out of the prison and brought her to his own quarters.
Still inside the palace, yes—but far safer than that underground hell.
He removed the uniform she had been wearing and wiped the blood from her lips, the dust tangled in her hair, using a wet cloth.
There was blood on her chest and thighs too—but he didn’t clean those. Instead, he covered her with a blanket.
Then, she let out a faint breath—moaning in pain.
It hurts…
For a moment, he thought she’d awakened. But he realized instantly that she was still unconscious.
Her shallow breaths, twisted brow—it was obvious she was still in agony.
One frail hand reached toward him.
It dropped before it could touch him.
H-Help…
Her voice was fragile, desperate.
Dietrich couldn’t tear his gaze away.
It was hard to believe this was the same woman who used to smile and tease him from her prison cell.
Seeing her twist her lips as if mocking herself, he bent down toward her.
Just like she said—her life belonged to him. He had no intention of letting her die.
He’d at least lessen the pain.
But when he tried to give her the medicine, she turned away.
That annoyed him. She had suffered so much, yet now she was rejecting his help?
After a few words, she quieted.
He leaned down again, gently parting her lips.
He meant to give her only enough to survive.
More…
That single plea made him pause.
Drawn in, he opened his mouth.
She flooded into him—her breath, her lips, her hunger.
And he let her. Until she had her fill.
