The One Who Always Returns to Me #1
A few years ago, a rebellion broke out in Rosdea.
At its forefront stood Alon Ricgard, the lord of Iredain. He had put forward Gildeon Esterien, the former king’s nephew, as the new monarch.
Yet before he could even rally his vassals, he died inside his own castle.
Some claimed an assassin sent by the queen had killed him. Others insisted it was suicide.
Someone even swore he had burned to death.
The exact truth remained unknown to all.
Afterward, the kingdom never knew peace.
Even with Alon Ricgard—the cornerstone of his support—dead, Gildeon’s army refused to surrender. The banners changed hands with every passing season.
These days, few raised those flags and fewer still shouted the name, yet soldiers were conscripted anew each season and fortresses rose once more from the rubble.
Battlefields multiplied across the maps while the names of the fallen were forgotten even faster.
And then there was Tyssos.
An island far removed from the mainland.
In a dilapidated tavern facing the harbor, rainwater seeped through the roof and the firewood burned with sullen, hissing dampness.
Old flyers clung to the walls, their ink long since blurred beyond recognition.
The tavern door never quite closed. Wind slipped through the gaps, brushing across the floor, while men sat in wet boots that left dark prints on the boards.
At one table, several of them nursed their drinks.
“So the conclusion is that the queen has finally moved.”
“I’m not even sure that queen is still alive. No one’s heard her voice.”
“Either way, the rumor that one of the great lords suddenly met his end is solid enough. No one’s saying why or who did it, though.”
“Great lord? Who?”
“You idiot. Alon Ricgard of Iredain.”
The words were always slurred by the end.
The stories never knew how to finish; speculation clung to every sentence. Because no one had truly seen anything, everyone could speak.
Nothing was certain. Yet once the alcohol loosened their tongues, they always circled back to the war.
“……”
At the table beside them sat a white-haired man and woman.
The man leaned against the wall, his face half-hidden in shadow. His cup was already empty, and the hem of his cloak hung heavy and damp.
His eyes had been following the trio’s conversation, but at some point they had grown still.
“Alon Ricgard… is dead.”
The low, dry voice drifted into the air.
The three men had fallen silent at that exact moment, so the words rang clearly through the tavern.
“What, you interested in our talk?”
All three turned to stare at the white-haired man.
But he only muttered on, dazed.
“Yes. That day, in front of the castle gate. There was the smell of blood… and flames. I was there—”
“What? What the hell are you saying…”
The voice was low and unfocused, as though the man himself had no idea what he was trying to recall.
At that moment the woman beside him reached out.
Silently, carefully, she caught his sleeve.
Yet the feeling that passed through her fingertips was sharp and unmistakable.
Don’t pay them any attention, Emil.
The words flowed from her touch.
The white-haired man looked at her.
Hesitation flickered in his eyes.
He could not tell whether what he was trying to remember was a dream or a memory he had once tried to bury.
A face rose in his mind, then vanished.
A shadow flickered across burnt ashes.
The man he had killed.
And the one he had tried to save…
“……Ah.”
For a fleeting instant he thought he understood who he was, only to forget again.
She continued to watch him.
She gently swirled the liquor in her glass, her expression nearly blank.
But the hand gripping his wrist held real strength.
She did not want him to interrupt the men’s conversation.
The three across the table failed to notice the shift in atmosphere.
They quickly lost interest in the now-silent white-haired man and resumed their chatter.
“When I was in Myrdin I heard it from a soldier who’d come from Iredain. He was near the place when Alon died. Said a monster appeared and burned Alon Ricgard alive. Nothing left but ashes, apparently.”
“Hah, might as well say a dragon did it. You actually believe that crap?”
“Just repeating what I heard. That’s all.”
The man’s eyes slowly closed.
For some reason his heart was pounding.
The last scene he had witnessed hovered just behind his lips, almost ready to surface—but the woman pressed his hand harder.
“Emil, stop thinking about it. All right?”
The pressure was small, yet it was enough to redirect the course of his thoughts.
The man closed his mouth.
He drew a slow breath, then let it out.
“……Okay. Pidea. I love you.”
The memory sank once more.
Pidea smiled and kissed him.
At first the kiss was gentle.
Then it deepened, their tongues tangling hotly, fiercely.
“Whoa, getting steamy right in the middle of the day!”
The three men at the next table whistled and jeered.
Emil flinched, but Pidea stepped in front of him like a shield and snarled.
“Mind your own business and get lost.”
There was real force behind her voice.
The three burly men recoiled, quickly turning away to mutter among themselves.
“Emil, let’s go home. We’ve had enough air. I’ll make you a delicious stew.”
“Yeah… Pidea……”
Just then the tavern door swung open again.
Wind rushed in with the newcomer.
The man shrugged off his damp coat and scanned the room. He was no local.
His clothes spoke of travel across the sea. In a loud voice he announced,
“Hey… I’m looking for someone. Any of you know him?”
A few patrons glanced at him with little interest.
He cleared his throat and spoke louder, loud enough for the whole tavern to hear.
“White hair tied back, goes by the name Emil. If anyone knows where he is, I’ll make it worth your while—”
“Emil, we’re leaving. Now.”
Urgency sharpened Pidea’s tone. She seized his wrist and pulled him toward the door.
In that instant the newcomer’s eyes met Emil’s.
“Wait… you there. Could you be—”
The man started forward, but Pidea shoved him aside roughly and dragged Emil out of the tavern at a run.
“Emil, run!”
“Wait, hold on—!”
Pidea sprinted like the wind.
The fallen man scrambled up and gave chase, but the pair had already vanished into the distance.
“Damn it, how are they that fast…!”
He looked around for his horse, but the animal was nowhere in sight.
What the hell just happened?
It felt as if he had been bewitched.
“My god… Emil. Was that really him? Is he truly alive?”
He muttered the words in a daze.
His name was Neil Bloodfire.
“Pidea, let’s stop and rest. He doesn’t seem to be following anymore.”
“……Looks that way.”
When Pidea finally released his wrist, Emil glanced down at the marks she had left. Her grip had been so fierce that vivid red imprints remained.
“Pidea, that man from earlier… I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before……”
“—Oh my, look at that. We’ve reached home already.”
Pidea smiled brightly.
Emil’s head continued to throb.
The memory that had begun to surface while listening to the three men had grown clearer, sharper, after encountering that stranger.
“—No.”
Suddenly Pidea cupped his face in both hands.
“……Ow, Pidea?”
“No more thinking about anything else. Emil. You said you love me, didn’t you? Then why do you keep drifting off to other thoughts? Do you actually not love me?”
“That’s not it… of course I love you. But Pidea, my head hurts so much.”
“That’s because you think too much. Come here. Hurry—let’s go to bed.”
She kissed him again, deeper this time, then took his wrist and led him into the bedroom.
Before the door had even clicked shut, Pidea began shedding her clothes layer by layer. By the time she reached the bed she wore nothing at all.
Her breasts were so full and ripe one would want to fill their mouth with them; her lush nipples drew the eye like forbidden fruit.
Below the elegant curve of her waist, between those supple thighs, her most secret place waited, shyly concealed.
Emil stared at the exquisite body, entranced as always.
Yet somewhere in the back of his mind a faint doubt stirred.
Had Pidea’s figure always been this voluptuous?
“Why are you only looking? Come here.”
She took his hands—one she pressed to her breast so he could knead it, the other she guided between her legs.
The moment his finger drew near, the tight slit seemed to draw it inside, swallowing him in wet heat.
A small, sweet cry escaped her.
“Mmm……! Ah, Emil—my breasts too.”
She pushed her chest toward him like a spoiled child.
Emil kneaded the soft flesh as though spellbound, then took a hardened nipple into his mouth and sucked.
“Ngh… haa… Emil, that feels so good. So good. I’m so happy. Does it feel good for you too, Emil?”
“Pidea… haa, of course it does.”
She stroked his hair with dreamy affection while he suckled at her breast.
“Yes… more precious to me than eons of time… more precious than the deepest throne in Sheol. Emil. Let’s stay like this forever, just the two of us. Even if these bodies wear out, we’ll make new ones… forever… ngh, ah, just the two of us……”
Her words were difficult to follow.
Yet Emil was far more captivated by the lush breasts before him.
He rolled the stiff, heated nipple with his tongue while his other hand explored her slick folds.
“Ah, yes. There—right there. A little deeper… with your fingers. Push them deeper……”
His mind felt as if it were unraveling.
The countless names that had flashed through his thoughts—Daisy, Cately, Alon, Neil, Roen—melted away into the softness of her breasts and the wet heat between her thighs.
“Pidea… I love you.”
“Ah, Emil! What am I going to do with you… I love you too! I love you. I love you. I truly love you! Mmm……”
Pidea kissed him with joyous hunger.
Her tongue coiled around his, deep and insistent.
Her saliva was so sweet that everything else—every useless, painful thing—seemed to fade a little more with each passing second.
“Haa… Emil. Sit down now. I can’t be the only one feeling good. Yes, right there……”
She pushed him onto the bed, knelt between his legs, and tugged his pants down.
His cock had already been straining against the fabric; the moment it sprang free it slapped heavily against her cheek.
“Oh my, Emil. Were you this eager already?”
She laughed, voice husky.
Pidea extended her small tongue as far as it would go and licked slowly upward along his length.
“Pidea… ugh.”
“Stay still. I’ll take care of you……”
She licked him a few more times, then took him into her mouth in one smooth, greedy motion.
The wet, filthy sound of saliva and precum filled the room.
“Ugh…!”