His face burned.
A painful heat spread rapidly through his body, racing along his veins like wildfire. The image of that graceful white figure behind the translucent glass appeared before his eyes again—vivid, tormenting, impossible to banish. The space around him seemed to warp and distort.
A ragged sigh escaped his chest.
Calix clutched his head in both hands, driving his long fingers through his dark hair and raking it roughly back. He was fighting for control. Fighting and *losing*.
*What was that? What's wrong with me?*
His throat had gone completely dry. Parched. As though he hadn't drunk anything in days.
*This is... difficult.*
He glanced frantically around the room, his gaze wild, searching—and seized the bottle of wine from the table.
---
Asella carefully pushed open the door to her bedroom.
And froze.
It wasn't Margot.
The shadow in the dim room—lit only by moonlight streaming through the windows—clearly belonged to a man. A *large* man. His silhouette dominated the space, broad-shouldered and powerful.
Asella took an instinctive step backward. *A thief?*
No. Impossible. The castle was filled with guards. No outsider could possibly penetrate this deeply into the fortress. It was unthinkable.
At Benvito Castle, only *one* person could enter the Grand Duchess's chambers without being announced.
"Who's there?" Her voice emerged thin and trembling.
She already knew the answer. And yet—desperately, foolishly—she hoped she was wrong.
Silence.
Hearing her own frightened voice, she felt pathetic. Stupid. But she couldn't stop herself; the words kept spilling out:
"Why are you here? W-what—" She fought to maintain composure, but panic was clawing its way up her throat. She began to stammer.
The man remained silent.
But Asella could *feel* him looking at her.
*That gaze.*
It seemed to burn straight through her body, searing her skin even across the distance between them.
When she was utterly lost—not knowing what to do, what to say, how to breathe—the man began walking toward her. Slow. Deliberate. Predatory.
"Stop!" The scream tore from her before she could think. "Don't come any closer!"
Frightened by the volume of her own voice, she grabbed desperately at the fabric of her nightgown, bunching the hem in her fists.
The man stopped.
But his strides had been too long. He was already terrifyingly close.
Dim moonlight cast deep shadows across his features, rendering his face half-visible, half-hidden. His crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness with a strange, ruby luminescence. Dark hair framed his flawless forehead in waves that looked almost artfully arranged.
In this moment, Calix resembled nothing so much as a beautiful wild animal.
For a heartbeat, Asella stood transfixed by his overwhelmingly mesmerizing presence.
"Why?" he asked, tilting his perfect head slightly to one side.
"I... well..." She trailed off, her mind blank.
What could she possibly say? Whatever words she offered now would be meaningless. After their union had received the Emperor's approval and been blessed by the priest, only one final step remained.
*The wedding night.*
She knew what it was. She had always known. But the day had been so eventful—so overwhelming—that she had completely forgotten. She hadn't even noticed the maids' meticulous preparations: all those silk nightgowns, the rose petals scattered on the bed, the aromatic oils lined up in the bathroom.
*Stop being nervous,* she ordered herself. *You have to get through this.*
Their wedding had taken place days ago. They had already delayed far too long.
Asella drew a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
It didn't help.
A scent surrounded her—so sweet, so intoxicating, that she felt as though she might faint. *This is the scent of Calix Benvito.* No matter how hard she tried, she would never grow accustomed to it. Every time he came near, her head began to spin.
*Why?*
There were countless perfumes in the world, but she had never reacted to any of them like this. She didn't understand what it was about his scent that disoriented her so completely. And the effect only intensified with each passing moment.
Her head spun faster. Her legs weakened. Her body suddenly lost all strength.
She swayed, glancing around distractedly in a futile attempt to keep her balance—
The man's reaction was immediate.
"You should be more careful." Large hands closed around her waist, steadying her.
Asella barely managed to move her eyes. She felt like a puppet whose strings had been severed. Without his support, she would certainly have collapsed.
The realization frightened her so badly that she shuddered.
"Cold?" Hot breath fanned across her neck.
Every hair on her body stood on end. That voice... *Why do I feel drunk?*
"N-no... I was just... surprised."
"Is that the only reason?"
"...Yes."
Besides the sweet aroma filling the entire space, there was something else interfering with her consciousness. Something making her feel strange in ways she couldn't identify. But she was afraid to examine it too closely.
"Did you hope I wouldn't come?"
"That's not true!" She shuddered again, squeezing her eyes shut.
In the darkness, all her senses heightened unbearably. She felt the man's embrace with terrifying clarity—every point where his body pressed against hers.
His frame was hard and hot, drawing closer with each breath.
"Open your eyes."
The thin fabric of her nightgown offered no protection. His arms were too strong, and Asella felt completely trapped.
Silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring.
Then the low voice came again, more insistent: "Asella. Look at me."
She trembled even more intensely as she forced herself to obey.
His blood-red eyes radiated strange heat—something that went beyond mere desire. She could barely breathe, bound by that inexorable gaze.
*I know what this is,* she told herself. She wasn't a naive child. She understood what happened between a man and woman in the bedroom. It was something everyone experienced when they entered into marriage.
*Then why am I so terrified?*
A moment later, her body went rigid as hardwood. She couldn't utter a single word. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged.
"Relax."
She felt his hand slide beneath her knees. Before she could process what was happening, her body was floating through the air.
The stunned girl tried to escape his arms, struggling in panic.
But for Calix, her resistance was nothing.
"Shh... be still."
His long strides carried them swiftly across the bedroom, and then Asella's body was sinking into a cloud of featherbeds and silk. The soft touch of expensive fabric, the quiet rustle of pristine bedding—her heightened senses detected every detail she would normally overlook.
A man's shadow loomed above her.
His powerful silhouette blocked out the moon, whose silver light had been penetrating the depths of the room. His face was hidden in shadow, and she could see only his eyes—wild and burning with hunger.
*That gaze.*
It left her unable to move. Unable to think. All she could do was tremble in strange paralysis, like prey caught in a trap.
"There's no need to shake like that."
Calix straightened and began slowly rolling up his sleeves. Without removing his intense gaze from the girl, he revealed beautifully sculpted forearms—muscles defined beneath pale skin, evidence of years spent wielding a sword.
Then, as though unable to resist, he yanked open the collar of his shirt.
He leaned over her again.
A moment later, she was trapped in his powerful embrace once more.
Asella's mind went completely blank.
---
## — Calix —
It was strange.
Completely unusual.
He didn't like touching people. More than that—he *hated* it.
And yet.
When he had touched her fragile hand while escorting her from the carriage... when he had lightly embraced her waist, wanting to tease her... he had *liked* it. Genuinely liked it. Even though her frightened face each time was somewhat offensive.
His gaze fell to his wife's clenched fist. She was clutching the silk sheet so tightly that her slender fingers—seemingly utterly insubstantial—had gone white at the knuckles.
*She rarely spoke to men,* he reminded himself. *It would be strange if she weren't nervous.*
But her terrified appearance only fueled his darker instincts. He wanted to devour her. To torment her mercilessly until she was completely undone. A lustful ache wracked his groin and lower abdomen with almost painful intensity.
He had never imagined he could want someone this much.
His eyes devoured her moonlit figure.
Her clothes weren't remotely suitable for a wedding night. She wore an overly simple shift, hastily thrown on after her bath—no lace, no alluring lines. The sleeves covered her arms to the wrists. The long hem wrapped her securely to the ankles. The wide collar barely revealed her delicate neck.
And yet.
*This* appearance aroused him more than if she had been naked.
*Perhaps it's the wine,* he thought, as unbearable heat rushed through his veins like liquid fire.
*I don't want to stop.*
He drank in every detail. Long silver hair scattered across the silk sheets. A subtle, barely visible blush on her cheeks. Small, plump lips. The soft line of her tensely arched body beneath the fabric. Inviting curves hidden beneath that thick nightgown. The tips of her toes, trembling.
He felt an uncontrollable thirst rising in his throat.
"If you don't want this," he said, his voice rough, "tell me now."
But even as he spoke, his tone betrayed him—the almost animalistic obsession of a man barely capable of controlling the desire burning through him. He wanted her. Every inch of that enticing body.
He licked his dry lips, his gaze pursuing her quivering pupils.
Their eyes met.
The woman froze, holding her breath.
*Like a frightened doe,* he thought.
Well. Tonight, the predator would never let its prey escape.
"Asella?" His red eyes narrowed, burning now with something approaching madness.
Her silver lashes trembled and fluttered like butterfly wings.
No answer.
As the hidden meaning of her silence dawned on him, his lips curved into a captivating line. The hunger that had been tormenting him became simply unbearable. He wanted to devour those small, tempting lips.
There was no reason to hold back. She was his wife. He could have her as much as he wanted. There were no obstacles. None whatsoever.
And though Calix recognized that his desires had become completely base, for some reason... he liked it.
"Asella."
He carefully lifted her chin with one finger.
Her frightened eyes—unable to focus—widened even further.
*If I kiss those beautiful lips now... what expression will she make?*
"I promise," he murmured.
He was, after all, a man capable of winning any woman he desired. And it wasn't merely the power and wealth he commanded as head of House Benvito. His striking appearance aroused admiration in everyone who beheld him—no woman could remain indifferent. A fantastically handsome face. A powerful, well-built body. Gifts from nature herself.
He knew perfectly well that countless women dreamed of spending even one night with him.
"I will make this night unforgettable."
There was no reason to stop.
---
## — Asella —
Meanwhile, Asella had been completely disoriented from the moment she had encountered Calix in the darkness of her bedroom.
Her confused mind couldn't properly process anything. By the time she recognized who he was, her body was already reeling—intoxicated by the man's powerful, sweet scent.
"Asella, look at me."
The voice was so muffled that her fingertips went numb.
When she finally opened her eyes, her consciousness was immediately captured by a gaze so mesmerizing it was almost hypnotic. She couldn't tear herself away from those ruby eyes, drawing her in like a bottomless pool.
The touch of his hard, hot body evoked sensations she had never experienced before. It was as though every cell in her being was being pricked by thousands of tiny, sharp needles. The scent—like dark chocolate mixed with expensive, well-aged wine—was driving her wild.
All these sensations overwhelmed her simultaneously, knocking her consciousness completely off balance. Her body froze. Her senses became so heightened that she could hear every breath he took, every beat of his heart—yet she couldn't move a single finger.
*What's happening to me?*
The next thing she knew, her body had been lifted into the air and then deposited onto soft bedding. As if through fog, she watched the man slowly roll up his sleeves.
*The moonlight is especially bright tonight,* she thought absently.
She could see his silhouette, bathed in silver luminescence. His strong, toned body showed clearly through the thin fabric of his shirt, making his torso appear almost bare. The body of a man who had spent years on battlefields—so perfect it seemed sculpted by a master artist. The steel of tightly knit muscles didn't appear heavy. On the contrary, his form was supple and light, like that of a great cat.
Suddenly he moved, and in the bright circle of moonlight, his profile became visible.
*Beautiful...*
But it was a fleeting thought—there and gone in an instant.
For some reason, the word *devil* surfaced in her mind.
*He, too, came into this world in his most perfect form. To enchant... and then destroy.*
A legend arose unbidden in her memory: a tale about a man who crossed the river of death, drawn by perfect yet treacherous beauty. The unfortunate soul had found no way back.
*Devil.*
His flawless face shone with perfection in the mysterious moonlight. Thick, long lashes framed large, almond-shaped eyes—so deep they resembled a dark abyss.
"I promise. I will make this night unforgettable."
And at that moment, something *shifted* in Asella's mind.
She could no longer see anything but the red light of those bottomless, bloodshot eyes—
*...!*
A voice filled with almost animalistic terror pierced her ears and echoed somewhere in the depths of her consciousness:
> *Be kind to His Highness...*
This voice belonged to the man she had always feared most.
> *"You shouldn't insult your husband by mistaking his politeness for generosity... for the sake of a girl who might not be able to open her eyes tomorrow..."*
Asella began thrashing like a fish pulled from water.
> *"It seems I still haven't raised you properly enough..."*
"No!" The girl arched her entire body and released a scream of pure terror. She stretched out her arms desperately, pushing against something—*anything*—
> *"Bring the whip..."*
Asella screamed, trying with all her strength to escape the terrible sound, the ghostly pain flooding her clouded consciousness.
> *"...I need to beat all the remaining stubbornness out of you..."*
**CRACK!**
The sharp sound of leather cutting through air.
Asella writhed, not knowing where she was anymore, fighting phantoms that weren't there.
*You have to run. You shouldn't be in this dangerous place. That man—he'll kill you! He wants to hurt Mariel—*
"I hate it! *I hate it!*"
Unwanted physical contact had always triggered intense fear in her. Her body remembered only blows and the pain that followed. It had completely forgotten what a warm embrace felt like.
Even when Asella consciously tried to overcome her terror... right now, wild fear—the result of years of brutal torture—erupted from the depths of her subconscious at the worst possible moment, and she lost all touch with reality.
Her body knew only one imperative: *RUN.*
The situation—being suddenly seized by a man she mortally feared—had heightened every instinct and completely paralyzed her rational mind. Her heart pounded wildly. Her entire being was consumed by uncontrollable terror.
---
"What?" Calix's eyebrows shot upward at his wife's sudden transformation.
The woman who had been trembling in his arms just moments ago—seemingly ready to receive him—had stopped looking at him entirely. Her eyes had gone somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn't follow.
What was happening?
"Don't touch me!" she shrieked.
"Asella—"
"Don't come any closer!"
He managed to grab her arms as she tried to throw herself from the bed. But his grip only frightened her more.
"Let go! *Let go!*" She was completely distraught, her voice raw with hysteria.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Don't touch me! Stay away!"
It was unmistakable refusal. Violent, absolute rejection.
"*What?!*"
Something clicked in Calix's mind.
The fire that had been blazing through his body turned instantly to ice. Fury replaced burning passion—cold, sharp, dangerous.
"How *dare* you?!"
He gritted his teeth. The Archduke—who had never been denied anything in his life—could not accept his wife's refusal. His red eyes blazed with the rage of a predator whose prey had just been snatched away.
That terrifying gaze made Asella thrash even more violently. She fought desperately to break free.
It was useless.
"*Where do you think you're going?!*"
Calix seized the woman trying to escape and slammed her back onto the bed. Gripping both her wrists in one brutal hand, he wrenched her thin arms upward and pinned them above her head. Then he loomed over her, trapping her legs beneath his knees so tightly she couldn't even shift her weight.
The only thing Asella could do now was shake her head frantically from side to side.
Even that he took from her—seizing her chin with the merciless fingers of his free hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.
Only when their gazes locked did he cease his brutal movements.
"Asella Benvito."
The voice with which he spoke her name was frighteningly flat. Dead. The tone of a man exercising tremendous control over volcanic fury.
He stared down at the woman who had gone silent beneath him, his face impenetrably cold.
She groaned in pain—her wrists ached from his crushing grip.
He didn't loosen his hold.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Asella shuddered at his eerie voice, as though she had been doused with freezing water. More accurately—as though she had been abruptly hurled out of some nightmare and back into reality.
"Aaaaah!"
The first thing she saw clearly was the eyes of the man looming above her—ready to tear her apart.
A chill ran through her body. So excruciating it was as though she stood naked in bitter winter snow.