Dietrich’s mansion.

Inside the birdcage, the red parrot Popo was preening its feathers.

Popo, delighted to have reunited with its original owner Celia, sang chirpily even when alone.

Well-fed and well-rested, its feathers gleamed with a healthy luster.

At that moment, footsteps of an unfamiliar person approached.

Popo stopped mid-molt and turned its gaze toward the door.

Creeeak—

The door opened, and upon seeing the man who appeared, Popo flapped its wings wildly.

A pale, corpse-like hand stretched toward the birdcage.

A golden bracelet on the man’s left wrist jingled faintly.

“Dangerous! Dangerous!”

To Popo’s warning, the man replied:

“No. Not dangerous at all.”

The man grinned, revealing perfectly aligned white teeth.

His golden eyes glinted like a snake poised before its prey.

The man’s black shadow completely engulfed the birdcage.

Celia sat facing Ileon, with a single table between them.

Ileon pulled something from his coat and placed it on the table.

Thud.

On the table lay a small vial, no bigger than a fingertip, filled with a red liquid.

“…….”

“Drink it.”

At a glance, the substance looked like something that would bring nothing but trouble if consumed.

“What is this?”

“A potion to make you happy.”

Celia shook her head and replied,

“I don’t understand why you’d give me something so precious.”

“…….”

“Perhaps Your Majesty should drink it first.”

Celia offered the vial to Ileon, suggesting he go first.

But Ileon didn’t budge.

He leaned back with an arrogant expression, lips twisted into a sneer as he stared at Celia.

“Don’t you understand your current situation? I’m not making a request—I’m giving you an order.”

“Isn’t my staying here enough? You told me earlier not to leave the room, and now you’re forcing me to take a potion?”

Celia spun the vial on the table slowly.

“…Could this liquid possibly contain a love potion?”

Ileon leaned forward toward Celia.

“You know well.”

In one swift motion, Ileon snatched the vial spinning in Celia’s hand and twisted the cap open.

“Would you like to smell it?”

“…….”

“Or should I feed it to you myself?”

“Why are you trying to make me drink this?”

Ileon lifted one corner of his mouth in a smirk.

“Because it’d be quite a sight—seeing you, who claimed you’d never belong to me, throw yourself willingly into my arms.”

Celia stared back at Ileon with cold, unyielding eyes.

Seeing desire flicker across her face, Ileon roughly grabbed her chin.

Then, he tried to pour the potion’s contents straight into Celia’s mouth.

But Celia activated her ability far faster than the liquid could trickle in.

A hyacinth fragrance radiating from her fingertips enveloped Ileon’s entire body.

Overpowered by the overwhelming scent, Ileon froze completely.

The love potion in his hand slipped downward, failing to reach Celia’s lips.

Celia caught the open vial just before it hit the floor.

A few drops spilled, but most of the potion remained.

Whether by misfortune or fortune, Ileon had already sent away his subordinates from the room earlier, eager to have Celia to himself.

Celia pressed a hand to her forehead with her free hand.

“Hah…….”

Using her ability in succession made her head spin.

She hadn’t vomited blood, but nausea churned inside her.

“I won’t kill you yet.”

Celia glared at Ileon, whose senses were numb from her power, unable to comprehend her words.

Celia had no intention of killing Ileon—*yet*.

But she still used her ability.

“This kind of thing… you should drink it yourself.”

Celia pried open Ileon’s mouth, which seemed frozen in time.

Forcing his tightly clenched jaw apart, she poured every last drop of the potion she held into his mouth.

Unswallowed liquid trickled down Ileon’s chin.

Celia glanced at the door.

Ileon’s men were surely waiting right outside.

Tick. Tock.

The large wall clock’s second hand continued its steady rotation.

Today marked the fifth day since Dietrich had been imprisoned.

Celia knew Dietrich would escape that prison—she was certain of it.

If not today, then tomorrow, or even a week from now.

Celia could wait.

While Dietrich remained in prison by his own *will*, Celia did what she could.

She recruited Balt and ordered him to burn down the Grand Temple.

And Balt had cleanly reduced the magnificent temple to ashes.

—Well, is it done now?

Balt looked oddly pleased after burning the Grand Temple.

—Believing in gods is a sign of weakness. Only those who can’t trust themselves turn to gods. Just like that damned Ileon.

Celia found Balt surprisingly different.

Among the Three Grand Dukes, he was the only one who seemed remotely sane.

—Honestly, I don’t care what tricks you used. The fact remains that you hurt me—there’s no excuse for that.

Yet, when Balt looked at her, deep guilt—not desire—filled his eyes.

—I regret helping destroy your kingdom by signing that treaty recklessly in my foolish youth. But now, I’ve repaid my debt to you.

There won’t be a second time.

With those final words, Balt walked away, seemingly relieved.

“…Ah!”

Dizzy again, Celia placed a hand on the table.

Fearing she might cough up blood, Celia withdrew the hyacinth fragrance.

As the scent faded, Ileon’s focus slowly returned.

Blink. Blink.

Ileon’s fluttering eyelids met Celia’s gaze in midair.

His breath quickened.

“You…?”

Ileon’s cheeks and neck flushed bright red.

He roughly grabbed Celia by the collar.

“What… did you do to me…?!”

Ileon struggled to speak, gasping between broken words.

But only for a moment. Soon, his entire face turned crimson.

His gaze slid down, fixating on Celia’s nape.

Clutching at the last thread of reason, Ileon flung away the hand that had gripped her collar.

“Uuugh…!”

A pained groan slipped through Ileon’s clenched teeth.

Holding onto the table, he tried to steady his breathing.

“Haa… hah…!”

But his ragged breaths betrayed his effort. He roughly swept his hair back with a trembling hand, his eyes growing darker, more sinister.

“…You.”

Ileon glared at Celia across the table, his eyes a perfect mix of hatred and arousal.

His hand released the table.

Gasping heavily, Ileon stepped toward Celia.

Celia neither avoided nor feared his burning gaze.

Ileon placed his hand on Celia’s cheek.

“How dare you….”

His teeth ground together audibly.

The hand gripping her cheek slid slowly toward her lips.

Soft, luscious lips—like ripe fruit.

What would it feel like if those deep red lips glistened with his own saliva?

Overwhelmed by the urge to devour Celia from head to toe, Ileon spat out a curse.

“Damn it….”

Where composure once was, anxiety now flooded in.

He wanted her so badly it felt like madness.

“What… trick did you use… you?”

The hand caressing her lips moved down to her nape.

“Tell me.”

“…….”

Celia had no intention of revealing to Ileon that she possessed an ability.

“What trick? Don’t you remember, Your Majesty, drinking the potion in one gulp?”

Celia’s wide, innocent eyes made Ileon’s expression stiffen.

Though his face hardened, his gaze burned with desire so intense it overflowed.

“So… you’re hiding something from me.”

Muttering this, Ileon buried his face against Celia’s collarbone.

He breathed heavily into the hollow of her collarbone, as if savoring her scent, then roughly seized her waist.

“If you won’t… speak.”

Ileon lifted his head from her collarbone.

A growl, like that of a beast, rumbled from his throat.

“I’ll make you talk… by force.”

Ileon tightly gripped her waist with both hands, trapping her, then leaned in to bite her pale, delicate nape.

Fragile. Delicate.

It reminded him of the fawn he’d killed during a hunting trip.

“If I tear into it like this… will you die?”

Ileon murmured, staring down at Celia’s nape.

Then, his lips descended upon her skin.