Chapter 275
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: I'll Hold You
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Usually, the opposite misunderstanding would be a million times more dangerous.
Watching Maiya state something utterly absurd with such perfect calm, Rimon fell silent for a moment.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then, pressing his temples with his fingers to ease the throbbing headache, he finally spoke as if confirming what he'd heard.
"In short, you're saying you want to sleep with me? Right here and now, with no one else but me?"
"That's right."
That was all she said.
What allowed Rimon to hold out was...
In stark contrast to her composed voice and expression, the shocking command made the words he'd been holding back burst from his throat.
"Are you in your right mind right now?"
"It's simply the rational choice."
"How in the world could something that insane be rational?"
Was she going all out?
Rimon stared at her now with eyes that saw a complete madwoman.
She didn't reproach his rudeness.
He was right.
She was the absurd one.
From the start, saying something like this to him—the mortal enemy of the Green Dragon Clan—was something that could never happen in normal circumstances.
But in this moment.
In this situation, it was the best choice she could make.
"Under normal circumstances, I should have selected a consort long before using myself as a test subject."
As a researcher.
Or as the princess leading the clan.
It was the obvious thing to do.
For a princess of the Seven Dragon Society, the most important duty above all was to pass on the dragon's pure blood.
Especially since turning herself into a test subject meant no one knew what might happen, she needed to prepare heirs in advance.
"But I didn't. No, I even used my authority to delay selecting a consort as much as possible."
"...You didn't want to create any unnecessary sacrifices?"
Yes, that's right.
Having already grown sick of watching someone die because of her—just Karra was enough—she didn't want to see it happen again.
Especially not the death of someone she'd have to share her body with.
But it was also an inescapable fate for a princess of the Seven Dragon Society.
From the beginning, mingling with a princess who possessed psionic power far beyond human limits was an act that squeezed out one's lifespan.
That was why few consorts of the Seven Dragon Society lived long enough to count on one hand.
And it was especially true for her.
Contact alone could mean death, making intercourse impossible by ordinary means.
Thus, past Green Dragon Princesses always selected masters with exceptional poison resistance as consorts, feeding them secret elixirs made from rare ingredients over months.
—All to endure her toxicity for even just one night.
Like male mantises devoured by the female after mating.
Their weddings were funerals.
That was what her consorts were.
Born by devouring their parents, she had been destined to solitude from the moment of her birth.
"So while researching my dragon psionics, I also sought a safer way to produce heirs. But..."
"No success, I take it."
"As you say, it was all a waste of time."
She sneered coldly.
Uniting yin and yang was impossible without it, and artificial insemination to pass on dragon blood was out of the question from the start.
Knowing that, she'd clung to the impossible, leaving her without even a suitable consort candidate, let alone heirs.
"But I have no more time to waste."
"You're talking about your lifespan."
"Yes."
Having abused her body through human experimentation from the outset, her remaining years barely exceeded a decade at best.
And after being poisoned this time, overexerting with the Reverse Blood Great Law, and suffering internal injuries from fighting Gula, it had shortened even further.
"I can barely hold out a year now, maybe not even two. I might even breathe my last before we escape this place."
"A year..."
His brows furrowed slightly.
Perhaps he hadn't expected her life to be so short?
A scoff escaped her at his uncharacteristic hesitation, so unlike his usual brazen self.
Death was not an end for her, merely a new beginning—yet mocking his foolishness in taking it so seriously, and then mocking herself for being unable to do anything but that.
If she could just die like this.
If everything could end there.
She would have accepted that death with a sneer.
It would end the weary cycle of sacrifices that had dragged on for centuries.
But that was impossible.
Deep within her slowly pulsing heart, mighty psionics raged fiercely, boiling her cold blood and refusing to allow it.
"As you know, we can't die at will until we've prepared heirs."
The instinct they seven princesses inherited with the dragon's pure blood.
The power to protect their lives and pass on the bloodline at any cost grew stronger the closer death loomed, whispering endlessly.
Survive.
Prepare heirs.
Pass on the dragon's pure blood.
An whisper buried so deep she wouldn't normally even feel it.
But her critically shortened lifespan, worsened condition from illness and injury, amplified that primal instinct to extremes.
Her consciousness grew hazy from the intense urge, her body feverish with the desire to propagate the species.
It was both blessing and curse.
Granting the seven princesses immense power, but binding them with the absolute constraint that they couldn't die recklessly.
"And the man by my side right now—the only one capable of mating immediately, without months of preparation—is you."
"Is that why it's a 'rational choice'?"
"Add impossibility to inevitability, and anything becomes rational."
It didn't matter who the partner was.
What mattered was passing on the pure blood.
She, who had always selected consorts out of duty alone—more dispassionate even than the White Dragon Princess—was even more so.
"Don't think you'll enjoy this."
What was so distasteful about it?
Seeing his complicated expression, she sneered mockingly and continued.
"This isn't me throwing myself at you. It's me making you attend me."
"...So should I writhe in shame and resist now?"
"That would be perfect. I'd get to enjoy preparing heirs while humiliating you."
"..."
"Of course, that's only if you can resist."
She slowly raised her hand.
Seeing the white scale tattoo on her wrist—still tilted 9:1 in her favor—Rimon looked utterly flabbergasted.
"You're going to use the scales' power? With the weight I used to save you?"
"If you resist."
"For a Green Dragon Clan so thorough about grudges and debts, isn't this too much?"
"Blame me all you want. Say what you like—I'm still embracing you."
Anyone else, maybe.
But Rimon was the clan's mortal enemy anyway.
No reason now to waver at his blame or resentment.
So she met his challenging gaze without a flicker and asked softly.
"Decide, then. Will you embrace me willingly? Or be forced into my arms?"
"..."
In her centuries of life, she'd never pondered such a binary choice.
Watching him stare at her, furrow his brow, glance at the ceiling then the floor in thought, she sneered coldly.
No matter what he chose.
The outcome was obvious.
"No choice here."
"Decided?"
"Yes. I refuse both."
So she wasn't surprised or flustered.
Just twisted her lips mockingly at his expected answer, her eyes dark and sunken.
"Wrapping it up like that when you want to be forced—trying to deplete my scale weights a bit, are you?"
Her scales had nine weights now.
He might not know their coercive strength exactly, but from the results of past commands, even Rimon couldn't resist easily.
If she used all nine, it might truly threaten his life.
So his refusal was natural.
Wasting scale weights on this reduced his risk accordingly.
Never expecting voluntary cooperation anyway, she just smirked at his refusal.
The result was predetermined from the start.
Refuse or not.
She would embrace him.
Bear his child with his essence.
—And kill him.
Even if not right now, no matter how many times he died and revived, eventually, without fail.
In a way, this was exquisite revenge.
Forcing the enemy into her bed, bearing his child to kill him—nothing could be more thorough or perfect.
Thus, true to the Green Dragon Clan, she decided and opened her mouth to invoke the scales' power.
No—she tried to.
If she hadn't heard his reply.
"No, the scale weights don't matter."
"What do you mean?"
"You seem to have forgotten, but I'm already engaged."
Looking genuinely troubled.
Scratching his cheek, Rimon prompted a frown from Maiya.
"Refusing my command to keep your fidelity?"
"Fidelity's too grand a word, but yeah—a guy with a fiancée sleeping around is just scum."
"What a ridiculous thing to say."
Maiya scoffed.
Everyone knew his engagement was political anyway.
And for 'that' Li Chingwei of all people, a centuries-old monster claiming fidelity like this was laughable from the start.
But the most absurd part was one thing.
"You don't even have fidelity to uphold."
"...Well, that's the folly of youth, isn't it?"
Rimon averted his eyes slyly.
Seeing behavior so unlike his usual brazenness, Maiya let out an especially cold snort.
"Think refusing changes anything?"
"Probably not, but gotta try, right?"
"..."
Political engagement or not.
Whatever his past with her.
He was Li Chingwei's fiancé.
So as a groom-to-be, shouldn't he do his duty and try his best?
His outdated, musty words—said so matter-of-factly—were anachronistic enough to mock.
Why, then?
Those eyes were too serene.
The lips that should smile were set firm.
And somehow, it made her heart ache.
Not the familiar pain of her episodes, but an inexplicable throb that made her pause unwittingly. To her, Rimon said,
"So don't give up either, Mistress."
"...Give up on what?"
"Don't act like you're already dead just because you don't have much time left."
Rimon stood slowly.
He picked up the shirt she'd discarded and held it out with one hand, speaking calmly.
"I get it, it's tough. When your body's failing and life's been hard, it's natural to want to let go and find peace."
Words anyone could say.
Yet they didn't feel glib thanks to that steady voice.
Or was it because he was Rimon Asfelder?
"But Mistress, don't forget—I'm right here by your side."
"What nonsense."
Reacting against her own unwitting shake at those words, she snorted sharply.
"What changes with you here? It won't heal my body or extend my life."
"Of course I can't cure you."
He admitted his limits readily.
Too straightforward, disappointingly so.
But that's why what followed pierced even clearer.
"But I can protect you instead."
"Protect me? You?"
"Yes. No matter what, I'll get you home safely."
"..."
"So if you trust me, don't give up."
Reason told her it was absurd.
In a world that broke promises easily, no reason to trust an enemy's words.
Instinct whispered not to be fooled.
Don't risk the dragon bloodline ending over a few words.
Despite reason and instinct agreeing, those words burned hot and sharp into her heart.
She found herself asking,
"...Can you swear it on your sword?"
Rimon answered.
"I swear on my sword—I'll protect you."
A Sword Master's oath on his blade.
Just words, really.
Yet heavier, surer, more trustworthy than any guarantee, it brought reassurance.
Swish.
In the end, she took the shirt from him.
Draping it over her milky bare skin, she sat by the fire and exhaled white breath.
"...Cold."
"No wonder—why'd you take it off when you're not well?"
"Is that something a slave says to his shivering mistress?"
As always.
Sharp and cynical.
So very her. Hearing it, Rimon chuckled and replied,
"If you're that cold, like I said earlier, I'll fetch more firewood—just wait a sec."
"I need warmth now."
"Hm... Even so, I don't have the skill to warm you without firewood."
"But you have a body."
"...?"
"What, can't even do this to uphold your fidelity?"
Too unexpected? Or unable to tell if the sarcasm was joke or earnest?
Blinking for a moment.
Cheek-scratching Rimon finally shrugged.
"Well, human heater duty? Sure."
And so, moments later.
Rimon's body heat, from where he sat embracing her from behind, seeped into her chilled form.
Crackle, pop.
Her body so deathly cold.
The warmth through the thin shirt felt hotter than the fire, like it might burn her any second.
Yet there was no discomfort.
Instead, profound comfort and an inexplicable fulfillment.
Such a broad, sturdy embrace.
The quiet heartbeat against her back.
Above all, that strangely nostalgic scent.
It soothed her unstable psionics and eased her pain.
...So it must all be in her head.
No, it had to be.
This pounding.
This unfamiliar emotion.
This thirst craving even more heat.
This longing for the moment to last forever.
'Have to admit it, huh.'
But no matter how she denied it.
The sensation was vivid.
The embrace warm.
In the end, she had to accept the one fact she least wanted to in the world.
'I like him.'
It felt like committing the ultimate taboo.
Yet so reassuring.
Satisfying, even.
And so, for the first time in her life, embraced in someone's arms, Maiya drifted into sweet, forbidden warmth.