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CHAPTER 27:
I Must Hold You Right Now
Celia locked eyes with Dietrich.
He kept her by his side because she possessed a supernatural ability—and because she was terminally ill.
A terminal patient with just about a year left to live.
A tool to be used and thrown away.
Right. What would her ability matter to him, really?
With only a short time left to live, she had assassinated the Emperor in her determination to take down the ruler who had led the kingdom to ruin.
But Abelon still stood strong.
That monstrous empire wouldn’t fall just because its emperor had died.
Celia hadn’t been able to bear witnessing it.
That day, a female knight had carried her on her back and run. After the Dylan incident, her father had only assigned female knights to guard her, thinking that if only women were around, no one would dare touch Celia.
When Celia, half-asleep, asked what was going on, the knight avoided explanation and only repeated that they had to escape immediately.
As soon as they stepped into the hallway, Celia saw her father’s severed head roll to her feet. Even in his final moments, his eyes were on her—as if worried for her until the very end.
The clanking of armor, the bloodstained sword, and… Abelon.
“His Majesty has commanded that all living beings be killed on sight! Spare no one—not even newborns!”
The knight shouting bore the emblem of Abelon on his chest—two pairs of white snakes coiled around a sword.
Celia slowly closed her eyes and opened them again, trying to calm the storm inside her.
She didn’t know if the Grand Duke truly was her enemy, as Dietrich claimed. For all she knew, Dietrich might be the enemy himself.
Only at this moment did Celia truly realize what she wanted.
She wanted to utterly destroy Abelon.
Before her time ran out, she wanted to see this vile kingdom reduced to ashes with her own eyes.
She had thought it impossible to bring down the empire alone—but if she could assassinate the emperor and still live, perhaps it wasn’t entirely out of reach.
“Still, I need to be more strategic and careful.”
“You’re not going to enter the Crown Prince’s bedchamber, are you?”
Dietrich’s words had a subtle implication. Celia was nothing in this palace. Though she had been cleared of the charge of regicide, she had unwillingly become the Crown Prince’s mistress.
Even if she had denied the claim at the banquet, nothing would’ve changed. People always listen to those with power.
In Abelon, she was nothing.
That was her current position.
“Where would I even go in this palace?”
Celia said as she let go of Dietrich’s hand.
Dietrich’s brows furrowed slightly.
Ileon still held her hand. The reason she let go of Dietrich’s but not Ileon’s was simple:
He was the Grand Duke—the man said to resemble the emperor more than the emperor himself.
Ileon was likely the most knowledgeable and powerful person in all of Abelon. That’s probably why even the Crown Prince dared not speak against him.
Smiling slightly, Ileon made a suggestion to Celia:
“I plan to stay in the palace until the coronation. There’s a reception room reserved exclusively for the three Grand Dukes. If you’d like, Lady Celia, you could stay there as well.”
He was essentially saying he would protect her.
It was unexpected for him to offer so readily. But if she accepted too easily, his interest might fade.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll decline.”
Celia let go of Ileon’s hand.
He looked at his now-empty hand with a touch of disappointment.
“After all, I am the Crown Prince’s mistress now.”
With that, Celia turned her back on the two men. She felt their lingering gazes behind her, but instead of looking back, she began walking toward the Crown Prince’s quarters.
The Crown Prince’s maid looked terrified. The moment she saw Celia, she ran up and led her to his room.
“Where have you been? His Highness is furious, searching everywhere for you!”
“…”
Celia reaffirmed her belief: never trust a man’s words. Dietrich had said the prince was already asleep.
As she stepped into the room, the sharp smell of wine hit her.
Though large and spacious, the room was littered with empty wine bottles.
Celia glanced around the opulent room until her eyes landed on Jeremy.
He lay sprawled on a massive bed by the window, shirtless, his face buried in a pillow. A cold voice came from him.
“Did I not say to bring Celia immediately?”
“She’s here now, Your Highness.”
Jeremy lifted his head at the maid’s words. His violet eyes gleamed ominously.
The door shut behind Celia with a loud thud.
The maid had closed it from the outside.
As the light seeping in through the door vanished, the room darkened even more.
Celia used the moonlight filtering through the open window to orient herself.
Jeremy rose from the bed, rubbing his forehead—still clearly drunk.
“You’re late. Is it because I called you my mistress? Did that upset you so much?”
He staggered toward her, swaying, and then grabbed her, pulling her close with a chilling grin.
“Your waist is so slender. No other man’s touched you, right?”
“…”
“No matter how much you hate it, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine.”
He giggled drunkenly. Though his eyes and hair resembled his mother’s, that smirk was eerily similar to the Emperor’s.
Burying his face in her collarbone, Jeremy muttered:
“Once I’m sober, the first thing I’ll do is chain your ankle—so no one else can have you.”
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain at her collarbone. Jeremy had bitten her, leaving his mark.
Celia’s gaze darkened. She debated whether to use her ability. Being terminally ill meant she had to use it sparingly.
“You don’t need to shackle me. I’m not going anywhere.”
She meant it. Shackles or not, she wasn’t planning to leave the palace. Not until she saw Abelon in ruins.
“What did you talk about with Ileon? You left me once—what’s to stop you from doing it again?”
Jeremy stared at the mark he’d left on her neck with a possessive gaze.
To Celia, he looked pathetic. Wasn’t he just leaving a mark because he lacked confidence?
“It was nothing.”
“Then why didn’t you come back for two hours?!”
Jeremy shouted and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her onto the bed.
“I need to take you now. Maybe then I’ll feel less disgusting.”
He climbed on top of her, stroking her thigh.
Why were men so obsessed with her body? Celia was sick of them.
“I guess I really should use my ability.”
Even drunk, his strength was overwhelming.
Better to strain her body than be violated by this scum. Celia reached up and grabbed Jeremy’s head roughly as he leaned in toward her neck.
“Haa…”
Instead of getting angry, Jeremy let out a moan.
Clearly too drunk to think clearly—this confirmed it. She needed to use her power.
Just as Celia was about to unleash it, the window curtains fluttered, and a dark figure appeared.
Shiny black boots.
And above them, through the dark hood—those familiar blood-red eyes.
It was Dietrich.
Jeremy, still focused on Celia, didn’t even notice the intruder.
Dietrich frowned, then brought his hand down sharply on the back of Jeremy’s neck.
Thud—
With a single blow, Jeremy’s eyes shut and he collapsed like a dead weight.
Dietrich moved Jeremy’s limp body off Celia and laid him on the bed. He tossed a blanket over him and spoke:
“He won’t wake up for at least half a day.”
Celia looked up at him suspiciously.
“Why go this far? If someone finds out, you’ll be the one in trouble.”
“…”
Dietrich’s gaze drifted from her face to her collarbone.
The red bite mark.
He stared at it in silence, then spoke in a low voice:
“Because I felt sorry.”
“…”
“That’s all. Nothing more.”
Then, Dietrich turned his back to her.
“Get on. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Somewhere safe? Was there such a place in Abelon?
As if he had read her thoughts, Dietrich continued:
“There’s a stable on the edge of the palace. Only old, sick warhorses live there. I’m the only one who takes care of them.”
“…A stable?”
“Yes, a stable. Stay in the small quarters next to it until things calm down. No one else can get in. The horses are violent with everyone but me. But with me, you’ll be fine.”
Celia was amazed—she had never seen Dietrich talk this much.
He turned and gently helped her into his black robe.
It was tailored for his size, so it dragged on the floor when she wore it—but still, it was far better than being in a white mermaid dress.
“Come on. Get on.”
