A sweet, fragrant scent wafted from Celia’s nape.

Instead of biting down with his teeth, Ileon pressed his lips against her nape.

As he carefully sucked, leaving a mark as if imprinting his presence, a red mark remained where his lips had passed.

Celia twisted her waist to escape Ileon’s grasp.

Unfortunately, with their chests pressed tightly together, the more Celia moved, the further Ileon’s reason drifted away.

Ileon bit down hard on the inside of his mouth until blood came.

“Tch…! Don’t… move.”

Unlike Ileon, Celia was hesitating whether to use her ability on him once more.

‘If I use my ability again and this man finds out I possess it.’

Celia narrowed her eyes, contemplating whether to knee him right there.

Men like Ileon tended to enjoy and press harder the more they were told not to.

Having seen countless types of men, Celia understood their nature well.

“What will you do if I don’t stop moving?”

Celia spat out sharply, then defiantly twisted her waist again.

Ileon let out a pained moan and threw his head back.

“Take your hands off my waist.”

At her words, Ileon didn’t release her—instead, he tightened his grip around her waist.

His hand, clutching her slender waist as if wringing it out, veins bulged across his skin.

“Like this…”

Ileon’s voice, thick and swampy like mud, brimmed with desire.

“If I take you now…”

Ileon’s lips touched the hollow of Celia’s collarbone.

At that moment, the closed door swung open.

Bang.

Through the wide-open doorway stepped someone tall, clad in pitch-black armor.

Behind him, Ileon’s subordinates lay piled on the floor, their bodies limp and lifeless.

Jet-black hair like ebony, beneath straight brows, sharp crimson eyes gleamed.

It was Dietrich.

Ileon, completely consumed, didn’t even notice the door had opened.

He kept inhaling deeply the sweet scent of Celia’s skin.

The moment Dietrich saw this, he drove a fist straight into Ileon’s face.

Thud!

A heavy, dull sound echoed as Ileon’s head snapped sideways.

The hand that had been gripping Celia’s waist fell away at once.

Dietrich struck Ileon’s face again with another punch.

Thud!

Hit by a fist that felt like a weapon, Ileon’s face swelled instantly.

Thud!

When Dietrich’s fist came down once more, Ileon collapsed completely onto the floor.

Dietrich beat Ileon as if he were nothing more than a dog.

He pounded Ileon’s face mercilessly with his fists, again and again.

Under the relentless rain of blows, Ileon’s body slumped like a corpse.

Celia reached out and grabbed Dietrich’s fist, stopping him from beating the unconscious Ileon to death.

“Dietrich.”

At the sound of her voice calling him, Dietrich pulled Celia into a fierce embrace.

“I missed you.”

At Dietrich’s words, Celia placed her hand gently on his back.

Comfort, warmth, security.

And affection.

Feeling a flood of emotions toward Dietrich, Celia slowly closed her eyes.

Whether from using her ability or simply from the relief of seeing Dietrich, the accumulated fatigue suddenly overwhelmed her.

Dietrich quickly caught Celia’s body as she began to slump to one side.

In doing so, Celia’s silver hair cascaded down over Dietrich’s armor, revealing her nape, previously hidden.

Bruised, mottled marks.

Seeing them, Dietrich’s eyes darkened deeply.

From within his armor, Dietrich pulled out a pristine white handkerchief and gently wiped every single mark on Celia’s nape.

Then, he completely overwrote and erased those marks with his own.

Pressing his lips to Celia’s nape, Dietrich gently licked over the area with his tongue.

The reddened marks on her neck faded away.

Once Dietrich confirmed the marks had vanished completely, he carried Celia in his arms and called out to Anderson standing in the hallway.

“Anderson.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Throw that man into the underground prison where I was held. Shackles on.”

With those words, Dietrich returned to his estate with Celia.

Dietrich laid Celia down on the bed.

Pulling the white blanket up to her chin, Dietrich looked down at Celia, fast asleep.

Celia was deeply unconscious, not even making a sound as she breathed.

Carefully, Dietrich brushed aside Celia’s tangled hair, tucking it gently behind her ear.

Dietrich perched himself on the edge of the bed.

“….”

Dietrich’s large hand touched Celia’s cheek.

As he gently stroked her cheek, the sleeping Celia’s expression softened noticeably.

Her long, lowered lashes, her full lips, faintly curved into a smile.

To Dietrich, Celia was someone whose mere presence made his heart ache unbearably.

The thought that she, possessing strong abilities, was desired and coveted against her will by unwanted men, filled him with unbearable sorrow and pity.

He couldn’t remember when exactly he had begun to love her.

He only knew he had been drawn to her, as if pulled by a magnet.

He had even spoken words like, “I’ll hand you the leash to my life,” ashamed of the depth of his feelings.

Though, even before that, the ownership of his leash had already belonged to Celia.

“Celia, don’t worry. Rest well. I’ll handle everything else.”

In a low murmur, Dietrich lowered his head toward the sleeping Celia.

His moist lips gently brushed against her forehead, soft as a whisper, then lifted away.

“I’ll lock Ileon away and let him watch Abelon’s downfall.”

Dietrich said, holding Celia’s hand.

“Everyone who ever tried to harm you will pay the price.”

Her hand was so small in his, it felt as if it might crumble if he squeezed too hard.

Yet Dietrich knew Celia was stronger than anyone.

Her inner strength was something no one could touch recklessly.

Her relentless steps forward, her intense gaze—more than anything, they dazzled him.

His gaze had been drawn first, then his heart, and eventually, he wanted to give her everything he was.

Celia, who continued moving forward despite knowing her time was limited, never blaming her circumstances but fighting on to protect herself from those who desired her.

The rotting blood pooling inside her body could only be purified by his own essence.

For the first time, Dietrich was grateful he had been born with a healing ability.

“I must have been born with this ability for you, and you alone.”

Dietrich brought Celia’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it.

“…I’ll be back.”

Dietrich tried to let go of Celia’s hand.

But Celia tightly gripped his hand and wouldn’t release it.

Celia’s eyelids, previously closed, slowly opened, revealing her fresh, vibrant green eyes.

Dietrich wasn’t surprised—he had known all along she had woken before he even spoke.

“Dietrich.”

“Yes.”

“I…”

Celia looked up at Dietrich with drowsy, dreamy eyes.

“Rest a little, and come back safely.”

Then, softly, Celia’s hand that had been holding his slipped away.

“Yes, I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

Dietrich forced his feet to move, though they felt as if glued to the floor.

Stepping into the hallway, Dietrich caught a faint, unusual scent mingling within the estate.

Following the trace of the scent, Dietrich abruptly flung open a door.

His gaze swept across the spacious room and stopped at one spot.

In the center of the room, atop a wooden table, sat a single birdcage.

Celia, worried about Popo getting stressed, had placed him here and often spoken to him.

But now, the cage where Popo should have been was completely empty.

Dietrich’s eyes turned dark.

One person immediately came to mind—someone despicable enough to pull such a petty act in his absence.

‘Arthur Servantes.’

Indeed, he thought, it would be best if Abelon collapsed as soon as possible.

With that, Dietrich strode swiftly out of the room.

Shortly after, Ileon, who had been unconscious in prison, opened his eyes.

The moment he opened them, Ileon let out a low chuckle from deep in his throat.