The Sword Saint's Pity for the Villainess
A voice drifted from the corner of the banquet hall, soft enough that only someone with honed senses would have heard it.
Kylian, whose senses had been forged like steel, rolled his scarlet eyes toward the direction the sound had come from.
There was no problem with it. It was the sort of comment one always heard after opening the path of the Eastern Plains—once the Empire’s battleground against demons.
“It’s too bad, isn’t it? Handing the daughter of a prostitute, no better than a harlot, to the war hero who defended the Empire….”
“Pitiful, perhaps, but what can one do? Your house carries barbarian blood, after all. If you become a member of the imperial family through this marriage, you could hardly ask for more glory.”
Haze.
The cursed Haze.
Kylian ground his teeth against the fury that threatened to twist his insides as he walked. He had held the Eastern Plains— the narrow pass leading to the Empire—together with his own body until his shoulders nearly dislocated. The reward awaiting him on his return was a marriage to Haze, the daughter of a prostitute, a woman no different from a villainess.
‘I have no choice but to endure it.’
Kylian clenched his jaw. His family was not pure-blooded nobility. Barbarian blood flowed through their veins—blood that had been traded as slaves—allowing them to amass wealth with ease. Yet their reputation remained a stubborn exception.
The Juderif family of Kylian’s line sought to elevate the name that had fallen to the ground.
Kylian, called the Sword Saint and revered in awe, had once expected a marriage to the eldest princess, his rightful bride. The result, however, had been the opposite.
‘It’s fine. I can divorce her later.’
Kylian knew that once he was dispatched to the front, he would command an army for at least five years. A wife waiting that long—especially one without a single trace of hope—would be impossible, particularly since demons devoured humans and left no bodies to confirm survival.
News from the front had been frequent: comrades and soldiers describing the hollow wives who had welcomed their men home with open legs and wandering eyes.
Haze had made no demand for divorce, yet she had still secured a name in the imperial family. The Juderif legacy had been secured.
Thus, when he arrived at today’s wedding, Kylian walked with the veil lifted from Haze’s head as if attending a farce.
‘…?’
A question rose in his mind.
The Empire’s greatest villainess, the daughter of a prostitute, the abandoned princess. The second princess Haze, whose every attribute had been painted in the most vivid colors, wore an expression unlike any other.
“…Ah… ugh….”
Her breathing was ragged. Even without grasping her wrist, Kylian could see the symptoms of a pulse that had gone weak. Her cheeks, forehead, neck, and earlobes were flushed crimson, as if she had a fever.
‘What is this state?’
A possibility flickered.
Once, the Empire had prepared sleeping draughts or aphrodisiacs for the bride on her wedding night, forcing them down her throat to compel the first night with her husband.
These were outdated customs, seen only in remote villages, but the Empire still prized the purity of a virgin.
A villainess who spread her legs everywhere and demanded satisfaction would only ruin everything if she suddenly refused intimacy and raised her nails in protest.
Haze herself had no chance of remaining a virgin, the imperial family knew that much.
‘Useless stunt.’
Kylian had no sympathy for the woman blocking his path. He looked down at the tiny figure of Haze with an expressionless face.
“Princess Haze.”
Nossa, who appeared troubled, whispered while glancing at Haze.
“Your hands…”
Nossa extended his palm to signal the time had come to exchange rings. Haze, barely steadying her wandering mind, quickly placed her left hand in Kylian’s.
‘The lowly woman.’
Even in appearance, this wedding bound the imperial family to the Juderif house and the Sword Saint. They had selected fine clothes and rings for her.
Who could know how much sweat and devotion had gone into this wedding? Kylian did not bother to wonder.
He muttered inwardly and took her fingertips with the lightest touch.
It was then that a voice came from Haze’s throat—a voice sweet and impossible to believe was hers.
“Hiiit—!”
Kylian’s body jerked.
Haze quickly realized her mistake and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Kylian tensed at the reactions of the nobles behind him. Fortunately, the guests, seeing Haze force back her cry, offered no comment.
Only the youths of her own age group seemed to notice. They had long harbored feelings for the Haze whose appearance alone was enough to deserve pity.
Haze shook off the ringed hand and clutched her trembling shoulders with her own.
“My body… doesn’t feel well. Let’s finish the feast quickly…”
“Eh? Ah… yes…”
The customary words of blessing continued, but they barely reached Kylian’s ears. Even Nosa glanced at Haze with concern.
‘A sleeping draught? No. If she had been given something like that, the Haze who had received imperial magic would have noticed and gone wild.’
One touch had already caused her to leak. The slick sounds between her legs were audible as a small puddle formed on the floor. Servants would notice at once if it wasn’t cleaned.
Throughout the ceremony, Haze remained rigid, cheeks twitching, her entire body shaking as though the cold air itself stimulated her skin.
“Now, the bridal kiss.”
“K-kiss… I don’t want one.”
The entire hall froze at Haze’s words. She answered with cold, mocking laughter.
“It’s disgusting.”
Kylian’s face twisted at the comment. Did anyone think she was helping because she enjoyed the farce? He tore off the tie of his neckcloth and headed for the door.
“Lord Kylian! Where are you going?!”
“If the princess refuses the wedding, do you really need to attend? Proceed as you wish.”
Who had wanted a kiss and to hold hands? If the eldest princess had been his bride, none of this would have happened.
‘Pathetic…’
An utterly pathetic villainess.
He would not help her under any circumstances.
***
No one had believed Haze was a virgin. To prevent her from rampaging and demanding to mix with barbarians, she had simply lain quietly in the bridal chamber after the wedding night.
Kylian, wiping moisture from his head, stared at the decorative sword hanging on the wall with dry eyes.
Haze, having already lost her virginity, would have left no evidence of blood on the bed anyway.
Kylian had been trying to find a way to create some trace of consummation when he suddenly noticed her.
Ssshhh….
Below the navel, more precisely the lower abdomen where the uterus lay, an eerie pink glow pulsed.
‘…?’
Haze’s sedative had no effect of illuminating the body. She could never have taken a sleeping draught.
One possibility came to mind.
Without hesitation, Kylian grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up to her knees. Haze struggled, but strength was useless.
As the fabric rose past the rounded curve of her breasts, Haze covered her eyes with both hands and sobbed.
“H-hiit! D-don’t… look…”
As expected, the lower abdomen bore the brand at the location of the uterus. Heart-shaped, yet extending along the fallopian tubes and colored pink in the shape of the uterus and vagina.
“You. What is this? Where did you get it?”
Kylian knew.
The Stigma of Lust. A curse branded by cultists that turned the pleasure of absorption into an unending sexual life. The victim suffered constant orgasm until their eyes rolled back and they died of exhaustion.
It also granted the partner extreme pleasure and forced the climax to break.
The reason Haze had rejected Kylian so fiercely at the wedding and shown strange reactions had all been because of this stigma.
“Ah… no… this can’t be real…”
“Shut up and explain the situation. Do you have any room to deny reality right now?”
“…I… I…”
The night before the wedding. Haze had been kidnapped by a cultist and branded with the Stigma of Lust.
The reason the cultists could enter the imperial castle—protected by divine blessing—was something Kylian would have to investigate later.
The cultists had looked at Haze before leaving and smiled with satisfaction. They pointed a dark, dry hand at her.
‘Endure one hundred days of daily climax without fail. But if you cannot hold back and have relations, both you and your partner will die.’
“…”
“Death would have been better! Why would I… say something like this…!!”
Haze bit her lower lip hard with shame.
She had realized something important. The Stigma of Lust existed to corrupt a pure virgin and drive her into lust. Branding a whore with it would be useless. That was the logic.
Haze had been a virgin.
She had probably never even held a man’s hand.