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SERIES: What Remains in the Damaged Place
CHAPTER: What Remains in the Damaged Place 45
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45
A warmth and moisture, like the lingering heat and humidity of a bathroom, parted Lirette’s lips without hesitation.
Her eyes widened as if they would pop out of her head.
“Ngh!”
Her stumbling legs bumped into something.
Her body fell backward, but she avoided injury. The space behind her, which she had reached without realizing, was a soft bed.
With a soft thud.
Their two bodies, one on top of the other, descended onto the bed together.
Valderion, who had deftly claimed the position above her, thrust his tongue inside her mouth as willfully as he had the day before. As if remembering it distinctly, it rubbed in circles against the ridged roof of Lirette’s mouth.
Lirette’s shoulders curled inward sharply, and her back arched toward the empty air.
Valderion did not miss it.
A large hand slid beneath her back and covered the area where the Name was engraved. Scraping his tongue here and there inside her mouth while rubbing the Name was nothing but a precarious stimulation for her.
The back of her head rubbed haphazardly against the sheet, mischievously loosening the hair she had pinned up with a cap.
Her once-neat silver hair fluttered about, spreading across the sheet.
An inexplicable heat seemed to scorch the crown of her head. A sensation that made her want to stop this at all costs, to run to the very ends of the earth. Lirette gripped his forearm tightly, but startled by a body temperature just as hot as her own, she struggled with all her might to push his chest away.
Only then did their lips part.
“What are you, doin—”
Valderion, looming over her like a shadow, propped himself up on one hand by her head, raising his upper body at an angle.
He tilted his head languidly, a measure of his arrogance, and watched Lirette. A drop of water clinging to his hair fell, plop, onto Lirette’s shoulder.
“Climb into my bed.”
Lirette froze, her mind completely blank.
It sounded abstract, but in the atmosphere created, it was a difficult phrase to misunderstand.
“I hear that if we mix our bodies, the Name’s effect lasts quite a long time.”
“……”
“It seems my trace remaining inside you is helpful.”
How could he say something that could only be interpreted in such a shameful way without batting an eye?
Lirette was silently horrified. But even if she stifled her voice, she couldn't hide her expression, for he looked at her face and twisted one corner of his mouth into a mocking smile.
“Which will it be?”
His fingers grasped a thin strand of Lirette’s silver hair.
Perhaps because their recent conversation was so clearly etched in her mind, the way he toyed with the strand between his thumb and forefinger seemed lewd.
Lirette pressed her lips together and showed no reaction.
She knew this was something she shouldn't even have to consider, but since this man had presented the options, she would have to choose one.
She slowly lowered her gaze and turned her head to the side. Her eyes, which had been on him, also turned away.
Valderion’s brow furrowed.
He grabbed one of her legs from beneath him and pulled it sharply toward him.
At the feeling of their lower abdomens rubbing together so deliberately, Lirette’s body tensed. Her stubborn resistance, refusing to meet his gaze despite the clear command, was both pitiable and displeasing.
“...Hh!”
Startled by the hand that lifted her skirt and slipped under to caress her inner thigh, Lirette snapped her head back to its original position.
In that instant, Valderion plunged between her lips without hesitation.
The sensation of their lips pressing together, top and bottom, with no room to spare, boldly dredged up the memories of yesterday. The insolence of his tongue plunging inside, stirring her warm mucous membranes as it pleased; the sensitivity that made the hairs on her spine stand on end as he scraped the roof of her mouth; the strange intimacy of his hand firmly supporting her back and rubbing the Name, even amidst all this.
All of it tangled together, making a mess of her mind.
As Lirette barely managed to gather her hazy thoughts, she trembled slightly at the sensation of him scratching the back of her knee.
Even while rummaging through her mouth, Valderion astoundingly noticed it.
What on earth was her skin made of? Even this concave spot was unbelievably soft.
Every time he gently curled his fingers to scratch the inside of her knee, her pulsing skin clung to his hand. He had felt it a few times already, but each time, it was a sensation that sent a tingling numbness through some part of his body.
She was, in so many ways, a woman who stimulated a man.
In that state, Valderion slowly moved his arm and wrapped her leg around his waist. The hem of her skirt, precariously perched, slipped down further, stealthily exposing a white thigh.
At that, Lirette bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, which had been moving so freely in her mouth.
Swallowing the sharp, lingering pain along with his saliva, he gave a cynical smile.
Her audacity to keep her mouth firmly shut even in a situation like this was impudent. Valderion pulled his lips away, but he did not retreat meekly.
He lowered his head and moved down to the nape of her neck.
He buried his lips against her skin and sucked deeply. The suction was strong enough to make a wet sound. Meanwhile, his arm unhesitatingly brushed past the back of her knee and delved toward her inner thigh.
When she felt his presence unreservedly dominating her from top to bottom, Lirette impatiently parted her lips and cried out.
“I’ll go!”
“……”
“I’ll go, I said I’ll go….”
Only then did Valderion slowly raise his head.
Lirette was looking to the side with a vaguely resentful expression. The clear flush on her face made it easy to guess her agitated state.
If one were to ask what had agitated her, there was only one answer.
His persistent rubbing of the Name had been thoroughly effective.
He had heard from his aide that the stimulation from having it touched was not something one could easily endure.
Reason would blur first, then instinct would gradually rear its head, incapacitating one's mental fortitude with the intent to swallow everything whole. He'd said that when it became severe, it was comparable to being under the influence of an aphrodisiac.
And yet, even in that state, she had managed to grasp a handful of willpower and bite his tongue.
Thinking that her nerve was truly something else, Valderion shook his head and meekly retreated.
As if drained of strength, Lirette caught her breath for a long moment before sitting up. Her unbound silver hair swayed like willow leaves with her movements.
Lirette gathered the cap and tie lying strewn on the bed and tied her hair back up. Valderion watched her without looking away. His gaze was so blatant that she had the useless worry her face might be pierced by it.
She noticed his blatant stare midway through but steadfastly refused to meet his eyes. Only after straightening her disheveled skirt and getting off the bed did she look at him.
“May I go now?”
Valderion nodded readily, like someone who had gotten what they wanted.
*That's why I keep feeling like I've lost.*
Repeating the thought that ignoring him was winning, Lirette went to the table and gathered the bouquet of delphiniums, a fitting mix of sky blue and purple, into her arms.
And she was just about to leave the bedchamber.
“Wait.”
Lirette’s steps halted right in front of the door.
“You should leave those flowers.”
“Pardon?”
“They’re mine, aren’t they?”
“These… are mine.”
“Why are they yours?”
He, who had been standing near the bed, approached with neat steps.
“Because I received them as a gift.”
“From whom?”
His tone as he asked back, striding elegantly, was relaxed and gentle.
“...From the gardener’s assistant.”
“And where does this assistant work?”
“Here.”
“Yes, here.”
Taking long strides with his long legs, he was soon right in front of her.
“This land, this manor.”
“……”
“Whose property do you think it is?”
So, he was now claiming ownership on the grounds that an assistant working in this manor had given her flowers that grew on this land.
Lirette looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression.
The man raised an eyebrow as if to say, *If you have something to say, say it.*
It was infuriating, but if she considered it point by point, he wasn't wrong.
As she remained silent instead of retorting, he casually snatched the delphiniums from her arms.
“It seems our business is finished. Are you going to keep standing there?”
And then he very kindly opened the closed door for her.
At his attitude, no different from that of a common ruffian, Lirette couldn't suppress a dumbfounded scoff. Then Valderion suddenly thrust his head forward, causing her to reflexively take a step back.
It was an unconscious wariness, born from the way he always kissed her like a surprise attack.
After she took one step back, her other foot landed beside it as if finding its proper place.
And just like that, Lirette was already outside the bedchamber.
“Farewell, Lirette.”
The man, who didn't suit the fragile, delicate flowers in the slightest, offered his farewell nonchalantly.
The door slamming shut, *thud*, right in her face felt no different from being thrown out.
Lirette stared down in vain at her now-empty hands.
* * *
Let it rain.
Let it pour.
A downpour so heavy that the thought of going outside wouldn't even cross my mind.
Several days passed with her praying for just that.
Unfortunately, the day they were to head to the hunting competition grounds presented itself with glaringly bright weather.
Wearing an outdoor bonnet, Lirette resentfully looked up at the clear sky, so vivid she could count the particles of light, before lowering her head.
In front of two large carriages, several servants bustled about. Among them was Segen, the one who had shown her the garden the other day. It seemed he was a gardener's assistant in name only, as he rolled up his sleeves and wholeheartedly helped with the menial tasks of the manor's indoor servants.
“Oh? Brillin.”
The way he wiped his sweaty forehead with his forearm was the very picture of youth.
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