* * *
When I woke up, the memory of yesterday added to everything, and a heavy sense of despair settled over me.
I tried to clear my head with a hot bath, then stood by the window.
The breeze outside had that cool crispness of the season just starting to shift into autumn.
The dream was so vivid I could recall every scene, but especially the words I said at the end—they wouldn’t leave me.
‘I guess it depends on how much you love.’
What a cold line.
Lying in bed just made me think more about yesterday and that dream, so I left the tower.
I only had two real destinations.
The imperial palace, or the Fourth Prince’s residence.
And there was no way I wanted to go to the emperor’s place right now, so naturally, I headed toward Siwoo.
Siwoo welcomed my surprise visit, as always.
You’d think he’d be sick of it by now.
Or maybe… he was just pretending to be happy.
Either way, I wanted to raise my favorability level with him—just enough to get one more peek into his thoughts.
“Um, Tower Master. I… actually really like writing.”
“Writing?”
We were chatting casually when Siwoo brought it up out of nowhere. Writing?
“Yes. Would you mind reading it, Tower Master?”
“Well… sure.”
It wasn’t anything difficult.
At my words, Siwoo quickly grabbed the notebook he had placed nearby. It was a gift from me.
Looks like he’s been using it well.
As I opened it to the first page, I saw handwriting that was crooked, almost childlike.
“Th-the writing’s messy, right…?”
It wasn’t just the handwriting that was clumsy.
I could more or less read it, but from the very first sentence, there was too much exposition and the phrasing was awkward—making it hard to stay focused.
Still, considering how he was still learning to speak properly, this was actually impressive.
I cleared my foggy mind and tried reading it more carefully.
The story was a kind of romance fantasy.
It opened with the real daughter of a duke’s household having her place stolen by an impostor, then returning after a time loop to get her revenge.
Stories like this really are popular across worlds and dimensions, it seems.
But the fact that Siwoo wrote it left me feeling strangely uneasy.
“…Why did you choose this kind of story?”
“Because it’s fun!”
“Is it…?”
Siwoo, excited, started explaining the rest of the plot.
It ended with the real daughter successfully getting her revenge and reclaiming her rightful place.
The intent behind his story made me sweat at the nape of my neck.
Was he telling me this on purpose?
“I really enjoy writing. In a book, no matter how powerful a character is, I can control them however I want.”
“……”
For some reason, those words stirred a strong sense of discomfort in me.
[Affection Level: Siwoo
85%
Siwoo is thinking, “How should I ■act?”]
“How should I act?” It was a vague phrase.
Was he referring to his writing? Or this situation?
The moment his affection level rose, I didn’t even have time to enjoy it—my head spun.
A sudden dizziness.
My vision blurred like I was dreaming.
Where was this?
A labyrinth? It felt like I was wandering through a maze.
The surroundings were completely dark.
I stumbled and reached out to touch a wall—when my hand touched it, it suddenly lit up like a TV screen.
But as soon as I pulled my hand away, it turned black again.
It didn’t light up when I touched it a second time.
All around me were the same pitch-black walls.
If only the wall would light up, maybe I’d see a path.
But I couldn’t see anything.
A crushing sense of loss, despair, and helplessness washed over me.
In that solitude, I lost consciousness like a wanderer losing their way.
“Tower Master?”
I came to at the sound of Cloden’s voice.
Cloden?
Why was he here?
He had gone to the 4th Prince’s palace with Serta.
I blinked blankly, only to realize I was lying in bed.
“Why am I here…?”
“You suddenly collapsed. It startled me. Are you alright?”
“……”
Instinctively, I checked my stamina—it was full.
I remembered the dreamlike vision I had while with Siwoo.
Did I really just collapse?
I shook my head, and the worried look on Cloden’s face snapped me back to reality.
“No, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”
“I’ll prepare some medicine. Shall I bring you something light to eat?”
“No, just bring a drink or something.”
Cloden nodded, then added—
“His Majesty the Emperor is at the entrance of the Tower.”
“What…? Since when?”
“He arrived shortly after you collapsed and were brought back.”
So he’s been waiting quite a while?
I quickly motioned to Cloden.
Not long after he left, Ateol entered, looking completely composed—as if he hadn’t waited at all.
He dismissed Cloden, strode toward me, and placed a hand on my forehead.
Then he touched my cheek, tilted my chin, and even pried my lips open.
“What are you doing?”
“I was worried—you collapsed, remember?”
“……”
“Yuri.”
“What.”
Ateol tilted his head slightly, gazing at me with an overly sweet expression.
“Would you grant me permission to enter the Tower freely?”
“What?”
“We’re going to be married, aren’t we? I think that entitles me to at least that.”
“Who said we’re getting married?!”
“…Aren’t we? That’s what I thought.”
A serious disappointment crossed his handsome face, like I had tricked him with a false promise of marriage.
It was so ridiculous I opened my mouth to argue—only for his lips to press against mine.
Again. Again, with the body contact.
I tried to push him away, but, as always, he didn’t budge.
He kissed me fiercely, until I couldn’t breathe, then laid me down.
His hands slipped under my clothes with a practiced ease.
Within that all-too-familiar rhythm, Ateol brought my body to a fever pitch.
When I finally regained awareness, I was clinging to his shoulders, completely undressed.
“Ah—ah, ah… ah…!”
Uncontrollable moans spilled from my lips.
Our bodies were pressed tightly together, fused in heat.
Ateol sucked at my neck until it made wet, lewd sounds, then whispered in a fevered voice:
“Say it like you did yesterday.”
“…N-no…”
“Come on. Like this…”
“Ah—!”
Ateol’s length slammed deep inside me.
My walls fluttered, convulsing before clinging to his thick shaft as if desperate to keep him there.
A sharp, electric sensation burst through my mind, sending waves of heat through my body alongside a faint headache.
My skin grew hypersensitive, tingling all over.
Ateol teased me relentlessly, pulling out only to push back in slowly, deliberately avoiding the spot that drove me wild.
It was frustrating—just another one of his tactics to coax the words he wanted out of me.
“Say you’ll allow it. And then, what you said after that. Hmm?”
“Ahh… ngh, nn…!”
The maddening stimulation made my body betray me.
At this rate, I’d end up saying exactly what he wanted.
But… did I even need to resist?
One word, and I could have the pleasure I craved.
When Ateol’s cock rubbed against that spot again, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Ah—fine, d-do whatever you want…!”
“Good. That’s a promise.”
“Yes, yes, and… please…”
Ateol kissed my damp, tear-streaked eyes.
“How?”
“Please… Ah, harder—inside. And… ngh… rub me like last time…”
The last shred of my rationality warned me I’d regret this later, but it didn’t matter.
The pleasure I wanted now outweighed any future regrets.
* * *
