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TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL, SEXUAL HARASSMENT

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“Jeanne, you need to breathe.”

“…….”

“Hm? What did you say?”

“I’ll die… I really will…”

Jeanne muttered weakly, his pale skin breaking into goosebumps as though his words weren’t an exaggeration.

If Jerome told him he’d barely inserted the tip, Jeanne looked ready to faint.

With a small laugh, Jerome placed a gentle kiss on Jeanne’s cheek.

“Don’t worry. If you die, I’ll just use necromancy to bring you back. Didn’t I promise to chase you to the ends of hell?”

If this were the real Jeanne, it might be different, but Jerome wasn’t the type to wait for a fake Jeanne in a dream to grow accustomed to him.

Without a word, he pulled his hips back, wrapping an arm around Jeanne’s neck.

Realizing the pain that would follow, Jeanne whimpered and struggled.

“No, not this position, Jerome. Please.”

Jerome’s arm tightened, the veins on his forearm standing out.

As he pressed in with force, Jeanne’s head drooped, biting his lip.

“Ugh… ngh.”

The fullness pressing inside his abdomen forced an intense urge to relieve himself.

Jeanne’s trembling length soon leaked clear fluid, trickling steadily even though he hadn’t moved much.

Watching Jeanne’s body shudder and leak like this, Jerome whispered with a smile.

“And you say you’re not a girl?”

Even after he’d inserted halfway, Jerome couldn’t move. Jeanne, having climaxed prematurely, had fainted.

Jerome wrapped his hand around Jeanne’s limp length, guiding the leftover fluid between his cheeks, using it as lubricant to ease the movement slightly.

“Next time, let me finish in your mouth—wasting it like this is a shame.”

Jeanne didn’t respond. Jerome, noticing something odd, turned him over.

Jeanne’s sweat-soaked, tear-streaked face was vacant, hair matted to his flushed skin.

Despite the chill of the snow outside, both their bodies were drenched in sweat.

His breath ragged, Jerome touched Jeanne’s hardened pink nipples and moved his hips slowly.

“Wake up, darling. Stop overthinking.”

“Ugh… yeah!”

The ominous tone at his earlobe snapped Jeanne back to his senses.

A strange sensation, as if his insides were being squeezed tightly, sent a shiver to his toes.

As Jerome quickened his pace, Jeanne cried out, arching his head back.

Jerome took the chance to press his lips firmly against his, their kiss so intense it felt like he was pulling out Jeanne’s tongue.

Jeanne let out muffled sounds, the outline of Jerome’s movements appearing on his slender stomach each time he pulled out and pressed back in.

Feeling Jerome harden further inside him, Jeanne hastily pulled away.

“Not inside…!”

Jeanne’s mouth closed as Jerome pushed deeper.

Jerome stopped, savoring the inside, then released a hot burst.

Jeanne groaned at the foreign, uncomfortable feeling, the volume so much he doubted it was merely climax.

The slick liquid trickled down Jeanne’s thighs, and in a pained voice, he asked,
“Why… why inside? You can just do it outside…”

“But then you won’t get pregnant.”

Jeanne flinched, turning to meet Jerome’s intense gaze, filled with a strange conviction.

Looking at this man, who seemed determined to impregnate him despite seeing his bare body, Jeanne felt a fleeting urge to dissect his brain, though he already knew the answer—Jerome’s mind was clearly filled with nothing but his desires.

Jeanne sighed, exasperated.

“You’re joking, right? You know I can’t get pregnant.”

“That’s impossible. Our child is already in there.”

Jeanne’s eyes widened at Jerome’s resolute tone, as if he was the delusional one.

Jeanne, bewildered, muttered as he clung to Jerome.

“A… child?”

“Yes, a child.”

Jerome’s hypnotic words made Jeanne’s vision waver.

Jerome placed his hand on Jeanne’s flat belly, gently rubbing the bare skin.

“Remember? You begged me, holding my waist tight, insisting on a deeper release for pregnancy. Do you not remember that?”

“…….”

“So I spent the night giving you what you wanted. Both of us holding our breaths so Chloe wouldn’t hear.”

As Jerome’s words worked their magic, a vivid memory flared in Jeanne’s mind, so overwhelming that his nose began to bleed.

Without batting an eye, Jerome wiped it away with his thumb, and Jeanne, in a trance, murmured,

“Did I… really?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Then… we shouldn’t be doing this. We could hurt the baby…”

Horrified, Jeanne placed his hand on his stomach. Watching Jeanne’s frightened face, Jerome felt a dark satisfaction.

That look—so terrified of losing their “child”—was priceless.

He would trade his life for such a face if he had to.

But it frustrated him that he couldn’t truly impregnate him.

Jerome pinned Jeanne down, flipping him over.

Jeanne instinctively wrapped his arms around his stomach.

“I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you.”

Climbing over Jeanne, Jerome pressed inside again.

The slow stretch sent shivers down Jeanne’s spine.

It didn’t hurt as much as the first time, but with Jerome’s weight behind each thrust, the pressure was intense.

Jeanne’s legs kicked weakly against the bed.

“It’s tearing… it’s tearing…”

Clutching the bedsheets, Jeanne raised his hips, desperate to relieve the pressure.

Seeing the explicit sight, the veins on Jerome’s stomach twitched.

With a chuckle, he rubbed the area slick with fluid and whispered,
“When we made our wedding vows, you were too small to even take anything.”

“Ngh…”

“And now you’re even lifting your hips all on your own.”

Jerome, speaking as if in high spirits, released a shivering breath.

Then, he hooked his foot around Jeanne’s calf.

Jeanne’s thighs, held wide open, trembled in mid-air.

Even as Jerome’s curved member pushed deep as if it would pierce through, Jeanne couldn’t bring himself to close his legs or even move his body.

The subtle curve of Jerome’s body allowed it to stimulate just the right spots, leaving a teasing, tingling sensation inside Jeanne.

Eventually, Jeanne’s upper body slumped, his pupils rolling halfway up as his body shuddered.

He felt like he’d rather faint.

For a moment, he tried to steady his breath, hoping to adjust to the relentless pressure.

But as the feeling of his insides stretching intensified, a scream escaped from him.

“Haa…”

With the ensuing violent movements, Jeanne swallowed the curses rising up his throat.

A betrayal burned inside him—how could Jerome do something like this to the one carrying his child?

Jerome’s mind-controlling spell was especially effective on Jeanne, who had a particularly pure, untainted soul.

The moment Jerome planted the suggestion that there was already a child inside, Jeanne believed it with unwavering certainty.

In truth, Jeanne didn’t even like children.

Whenever he saw a well-loved child, he was reminded of his own neglected childhood, forever overshadowed by difficult circumstances.

Perhaps that’s why the saying, “Only those who have been loved can give love,” always stung.

Even if he married a woman he loved one day and had a child, he was certain he couldn’t give any love, having never truly received it himself.

For Jerome, it was a spell cast without much thought, but to Jeanne, it was the worst possible manipulation.

He was in no way prepared for this—much less with someone who seemed unbothered if the child was harmed.

Jeanne’s vision blurred, and tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

“Ugh…”

Noticing Jeanne’s tears, Jerome paused, freezing for a moment.

Seeing Jeanne sobbing and soaking the pillowcase, Jerome eventually withdrew, despite the intense arousal throbbing within him.

Pulling Jeanne into his arms, he pressed a kiss to Jeanne’s sweat-dampened collarbone and asked gently.

“Why are you crying?”

“I… I’m worried…”

“…”

“I… I’m not confident I can raise a child well. They say only those who’ve been loved can give love. I’m sure any child I raise would be unhappy, probably growing up to be some delinquent shoplifter. I’d end up spending all my retirement savings on settlement payments…”

Jerome simply watched as Jeanne rambled.

He already knew—this timid, self-doubting person was Jeanne’s true self.

Seeing Jeanne so deflated stirred a faint pang of guilt in Jerome, one he hadn’t even felt when taking a life.

But he didn’t want to lift the spell just yet.

He was far too aroused.

He even considered adding another spell, convincing Jeanne it was twins, conceived on purpose.

“What are you so worried about? Look at me—I grew up just fine, even without a father’s love.”

Jerome’s shameless response made Jeanne’s face pale. Jerome sighed at Jeanne’s reaction.

Children, after all, grew as naturally as pumpkins—why fret so much over something like that?

“Ugh, I’m throbbing.”

Unlike the sentimental Jeanne, Jerome felt an unbearable tension below.

Just as he thought about getting back to it, his hand paused before grasping Jeanne’s hips.

Seeing Jeanne nestled against him, fighting back tears, his arousal faded for reasons unknown.

“What’s this? That’s never happened before…”

Instead of grabbing Jeanne as he intended, Jerome patted his back.

Though he’d thought he could treat this fake version of Jeanne however he pleased, seeing Jeanne cry made him feel oddly unsettled.

Being afraid of raising a child poorly just because you don’t know how to give love—that was both overly sensitive and foolish.

Jerome ran his fingers through Jeanne’s soft hair and murmured in a low voice.

“Do you know what people used to say instead of confessing love in the Empire, decades ago?”

Continuing in a calm tone, Jerome pinched Jeanne’s nose, causing Jeanne to instinctively scrunch up and sniff.

When Jeanne looked up with a puzzled expression, Jerome whispered.

“There once was a poet whose relationship with his wife was awful. He was full of pride, didn’t earn a thing, and was useless in bed.”

“…”

“To fix their broken marriage, he came up with a brilliant line, something to win back his wife’s heart. He opened a letter to her with that very line.”

Curiosity gleamed in Jeanne’s eyes, replacing the worry that had been there moments ago.

Meeting Jeanne’s inquisitive gaze made Jerome’s throat tighten.

Every time Jeanne looked at him like that, Jerome felt an urge rise within him.

To blind him, to break his legs, so that Jeanne would be completely reliant on him.

Yet, Jerome chose to play the role of a kind husband.

He didn’t want to be hated.

In a way, he felt fortunate to still have that much restraint.

“But someday, if that last bit of restraint wears thin…”

Noticing Jerome’s sudden silence, Jeanne looked at him, puzzled.

Smiling with eyes devoid of light, Jerome gripped Jeanne’s hand tightly.

“Dear, the child you raise will not go astray.”

The gentleness in Jerome’s voice made Jeanne’s hand tremble.

Under the scratchy blanket, their knees touched.

Jerome wrapped his arm around Jeanne’s shoulders, pulling him close, and spoke calmly.

“A child raised by Jeanne will not go astray.”

In the quiet, their heated gazes met.

Jeanne didn’t resist as Jerome’s lips pressed against his once more.

The window reflected the two figures entwined together, framed by softly falling snow.

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