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Chapter 8
You Are Not My Child
Crackle!
With the pleasant sound of paper tearing, the scroll split into two and suddenly burst into flames.
In an instant, the paper vanished, scattering pink smoke into the air.
‘No… what did I just do…?’
Kalia stared blankly at the scroll that had disappeared from her hand, suddenly realizing she had once again fallen victim to Shaimon.
‘What a fool I am.’
She squeezed her eyes shut, blaming herself. Her stomach churned at the memory of what seemed like Shaimon grinning mischievously just before she closed her eyes.
‘Damn it, damn it! That wretched bastard! Always toying with people!’
Biting her lips to suppress her anger, Kalia shook her head as if letting go of everything.
‘Well, it’s not like it’s the first time.’
It wasn’t a huge deal, just a prank she’d fallen for. There was really no reason to be mad.
And most importantly…
Look, nothing really happened, right?
That’s enough.
“Shaimon, teasing me is your favorite game, huh?”
Kalia sighed in exasperation, pressing her fingers around her eyes where the smoke had stung.
Then, as she looked at Shaimon…
“…Huh.”
Why is he sparkling like that?
Shaimon seemed to glimmer unnaturally. Not in a way that hurt the eyes, but in a way that was as enticing as a perfectly ripe apple.
Flustered, she rubbed her eyes more roughly.
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”
Seeing Kalia rubbing her eyes fiercely, Shaimon stepped closer and grabbed her hand.
“…!”
His voice, gentle when asking if she was hurt, sounded sweet and close to her ears—completely different from before.
But that wasn’t what surprised Kalia.
The moment Shaimon held her wrist, a blazing heat shot through her.
It surged like electricity through her entire body, shocking her so intensely that she gasped for air.
Kalia yanked her hand away forcefully.
Shaimon stared at her oddly, his elegant golden eyes watching Kalia’s emerald gaze tremble in confusion.
‘Wanting to kiss him… wanting to leave red handprints on his pale skin…’
Thump, thump.
‘Or to cover his lips and…’
Kalia’s heart began racing uncontrollably.
‘Pushed roughly, like that…’
Something was definitely wrong. Sensing danger, Kalia immediately turned and fled Shaimon’s workshop.
Her instincts whispered that staying there would only lead to greater trouble.
Cold sweat dripped down her face.
“Kalia!”
Ignoring Shaimon’s call, she hurriedly descended the tower.
Just as she reached to grab the horse tied under the tree—
“Kalia!”
Before she could react, Shaimon had caught her wrist, seemingly using magic to close the distance in an instant.
“…Hngh!”
The electrifying heat from her captured wrist spread across her body, and for the first time, Kalia let out a shiveringly intimate moan.
“…!”
Biting her lips, Kalia glared at Shaimon.
‘If you hadn’t toyed with me, I never would’ve torn that suspicious scroll!’
Shaimon stopped, looking at her strangely, as if puzzled.
Kalia shook off the tingling feeling from their contact and quickly mounted her horse.
“I should return to the mansion.”
“The scroll…”
“Shut up, Shaimon.”
Leaving him staring blankly, unreadable, Kalia kicked her horse.
“Go!”
The horse surged forward.
But just as Kalia was leaving the magic tower’s garden, her horse suddenly twisted around for some reason.
Shaimon, staring blankly at her retreating figure, saw Kalia approaching rapidly, breathing heavily.
A massive moon hung behind her.
The brilliant moonlight poured over her tousled lemon-blonde hair, scattering dazzlingly.
Kalia pushed back strands of hair slipping down with a deep exhale and, in one swift motion, bent forward and grabbed Shaimon by the collar, pressing their faces together.
“The scroll… decode it. Now.”
Her growling voice was harsh.
Kalia’s hot breath hit Shaimon’s lips.
“…What?”
“Decode it immediately.”
“That’s impossibl—”
Shaimon didn’t even finish his sentence before Kalia pressed her lips onto his, as if to silence him.
As someone might have warned, she felt she would go mad if she didn’t bite those lips.
She couldn’t hold back. The scorching heat felt like her head was going to explode.
“Haa…”
After devouring his smooth, tempting lips, Kalia murmured, still pressing against him. Her voice was rough, metallic with desire.
“…Damn you, Shaimon.”
‘This is all your fault.’
Again, Kalia’s red tongue delved deep into Shaimon’s mouth, leaving a sweet scent in its wake.
What happened after that?
‘…Kalia, Kalia. My Kalia.’
‘Hngh… one more time, don’t stop, Shaimon.’
‘Damn…! Blast it.’
‘…Shaimon, Shaimon.’
Well…
“…Hm.”
Isn’t it obvious from the life growing inside her?
Kalia clenched her eyes at the vivid memory flooding her mind.
Wiping her heated face with a dry hand, she blamed herself.
‘Haa… I’m really trash.’
She fiddled with her reddening earlobes and sighed, shaking her head.
Yes. That was Kalia that day.
That fiery night, she had… made a baby.
With someone she’d grown up with like a brother.
A baby.
With a friend.
‘…Aaaah!’
That mad wizard Derik’s scroll had been powerful, reckless, and truly extraordinary.
For over twenty years, Kalia had devoted herself solely to the sword, and was ignorant about anything else—including babies. That day, she had experienced a whole new world.
It was overwhelmingly intense, sweet, and thrilling—she couldn’t control herself.
And since Derik’s incredible scroll had dominated her, she was unstoppable, like a runaway locomotive.
Kalia explored this unknown realm with incredible, aggressive enthusiasm.
Moreover, her stamina was unmatched in the empire. Her body never tired through the night.
By dawn, it was Shaimon who collapsed from exhaustion.
Kalia, unaware it was paradise lost, had indulged fully in the new sweetness, chasing Shaimon through the night.
She didn’t notice the passing night, the sunrise, or the fatigue…
Through it all, it was Shaimon… all night long…
And still.
“…No matter how I think about it, I’m trash. I can’t deny it.”
Kalia muttered grimly.
Just as she was about to turn her head away from spying on Shaimon through the window, he turned and his noble, moonlit golden eyes fixed on her.
“Two weeks, Kalia.”
They stood facing each other in the moonlit garden.
“Two weeks already?” Kalia murmured, nodding lightly.
“You really know how to avoid me.”
Kalia frowned instinctively, irritated. She had never really avoided Shaimon.
Five weeks ago, after that brazen night, she had heard he hadn’t left the bed and stayed in the room all day the next day. She had spent the day full of guilt, thinking she had knocked him out.
The next day, when he sent a message saying he would come visit, she politely declined, wishing him to recover fully.
‘You don’t have to come; rest. I’ll visit soon. And I’m sorry,’ she had written.
The next day, when she went to see him, Shaimon looked at her with cold, piercing eyes and said nothing. Her written apology didn’t seem to calm his anger; if anything, it provoked it.
Kalia repeatedly apologized, but Shaimon eventually chased her away in a furious rage.
In over twenty years, she had never seen him that angry.
She felt more sorry than ever, but also a little irritated.
‘Wait, was I the only one excited? I kissed him and touched him as if I were going crazy! And it was Shaimon who made me tear that scroll!’
She was internally frustrated, yet also burdened with guilt because she had been the one to overwhelm him.
Kalia waited for Shaimon’s anger to subside.
Three weeks later, when she met him again, he seemed fine.
He even said the elders pressured him to marry and wondered if there might be a lady to engage with, glaring at her.
Kalia read his fierce gaze as: ‘Don’t get in the way of my marriage.’
So once again, she tried to remain polite…
“Finally, it’s your turn. I sincerely support and congratulate you, Shaimon.”
She extended a hand for a reconciliatory handshake, promising to keep that night a secret.
But he erupted in anger again and she had to flee.
‘That temperamental wizard.’
After all, what was he thinking, throwing fireballs in the royal garden!
Anyway, after that day, she went on a two-week business trip to the Holia military training camp, returning just yesterday.
Because her cycle had been irregular, she took a test, half-hoping, half-fearing…
Yet Shaimon, seemingly unaware or uninterested, glared at her obliquely, clearly annoyed.
“After the war, it’s always this hard to see your face. Sometimes I think I should just… start a war myself.”
