Devoured by the Losing Heroine
Chloe slid the thin nightgown over her body, the fabric cool and clinging to her skin like a second layer of anticipation. She pushed open the window and let the night air flood the room, sharp and alive. Barefoot on the balcony, the marble railing pressed coolly into her palms—cool yet invigorating, sending a shiver racing up her arms.
She drank in the night itself, letting the crisp chill settle deep in her lungs. The thin cloth stuck to her skin, then fluttered in the breeze, brushing her thighs with every gentle shift. Each caress left behind a memory of that day’s heat, vivid and unbearable.
A slender woman’s voice, ragged and breathless. The wet sound still echoing in her throat. The way it had lingered in her ears long after.
“…You were drenched.”
The whisper scattered on the breeze.
Stars glittered across the sky above her.
Chloe narrowed her eyes, silent, remembering everything.
Only hours ago.
She had warmed her own skin against the other woman’s. In the underground cold, the pale body had been hardening, ice forming on the surface. The exact moment it shattered beneath her touch—white neck arched back, tear-filled eyes trembling violently, unable to focus on anything yet burning with an inner fire she had never seen.
“Her expression… I can’t forget it.”
From the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, the image felt like overripe fruit on the edge of spilling over.
One bite and the sweetness would drip down to her wrist. Chloe had tasted it. Once she had, there was no way to stop.
She swept her tongue across her lower lip, still catching the faint trace of that sweetness.
The dirtiest villainess in the empire.
Who would have thought she would feel this?
The woman who had corrupted this country. The criminal who had been pushed to her death by her own bare blade. A witch whose spit would have been too good for her. The fact that she had lusted after such a creature set her own nape aflame with fresh contempt.
She had despised her. Still did. That much was clear. But why?
“…Why can’t I let go of my hand?”
Chloe stared down at the hand that had stroked that skin, fingers that had lifted that chin, lips that had swallowed those moans. For her, it was new—strange.
The hand that had been gripping tightly all along.
Was this even a dream?
The thought made her doubt everything.
“I never thought I’d fall this deep.”
No answer came. No man or woman had ever suffered this fever. It had nothing to do with gender.
Then the villainess was the problem?
Or had she been the one ensnared?
The answer refused to form. Yet her body answered first. Her lower belly tightened as she relived the memory, fingers throbbing with rising heat.
It wasn’t enough. One time wasn’t enough.
Nor two. Nor three.
The more she tried to lock that feeling away, the deeper the thirst grew. Every time she pictured the trembling face, new hunger rose from beneath it.
“…I want to eat again. I’m going crazy.”
The nameless impulse scratched at her ribs. Chloe swallowed the sensation and steadied her breathing. This was more than mere lust. Deeper still—something carved into her bones—demanded it.
She stretched, arching her back.
Then her movements halted.
…It didn’t hurt.
She twisted her waist.
Rolled her shoulders.
Extended her arms overhead.
No pain.
The agony that had crushed her chest every night for years. The numbness in her hand when she held a sword. The morning sweat soaking her sheets at dawn…
Vanished in an instant.
Chloe placed her hand over her heart.
It beat strong and steady. The mana that had once hardened in her veins flowed smoothly now. She clenched her fingers. No tingling. Warmth reached her toes.
“…It feels like a lie.”
The words slipped out as she exhaled.
Mana arteriosclerosis.
A disease that any imperial doctor would have thrown up their hands at. The one that forced mages and swordsmen to abandon their skills, to collapse quietly backstage.
Those who had offered empty words of pity—her talent wasted—had delivered the verdict.
But now.
“I’m better. Really.”
More precisely, she was healing.
With every swallow of what had flowed from that body.
With every lick of her skin, every swallow of her fluids.
The hardened mana loosened, layer by layer.
The result of relentless digging.
She had stayed up all night probing that body, searching for the source of the power, what exactly had cured the illness.
And she had found it.
Cecilia’s body was like an elixir.
The legendary panacea spoken of only in legends.
Precisely, the power that had seeped from her flesh. The ability she had paid for with a devil’s price.
The curse paid for in the world’s own light.
Who would have thought that curse would bloom into this kind of blessing?
Chloe’s shoulders trembled.
“Hahaha. It’s true!”
She laughed, tilting her head toward the night sky, and let the sound echo for several long breaths. Joy flooded her throat.
She felt reborn.
Only now did she feel truly alive.
“I don’t have to set aside my sword anymore.”
Whatever nameless fate awaited her, she could erase it with this body.
“…That’s mine.”
The laughter died.
Chloe’s eyes cooled in the darkness. The face that had been flushed with joy moments ago changed in an instant.
Possession. Far worse—obsession.
“I won’t give even a drop to anyone. Not a fragment.”
The way she had looked at others was unbearable. It wasn’t just because she was the elixir that cured her illness. That was only an excuse.
Even after the illness was gone, she had no intention of letting her go. She would never release her grip, not while the villainess could run anywhere.
Beneath her feet, the underground prison rose.
The woman crouched on the cold stone floor, eyes unfocused, a faint smile as she looked somewhere beyond.
“What are you doing right now… that belongs to me.”
She pushed down the urge to descend immediately. Chloe gripped the balcony railing tighter. The more urgent the need, the more she had to return.
She had to take her fully into her hands.
Not a broken toy, but whole.
Ownership. She had to secure that first.
Cecilia was a witch awaiting formal execution in name only. The Valois Marquisate had only borrowed her for a while. The imperial family’s hand could reach out at any moment and take her neck away. She couldn’t allow that.
She had weighed the options.
The cleanest path was her father.
“…My birthday is coming soon.”
The only heir. And the daughter who had almost set aside her sword because of illness was walking perfectly fine now. He had grown softer lately.
This birthday gift…
She could just take her.
She could invent any excuse.
A hostage needed for research on the witch’s abilities. The execution is a waste, so I’ll keep her under surveillance. Either way, it wouldn’t be short of convincing her father.
“I don’t need jewels or a ring, Father. Just one thing.”
She whispered the rehearsed words.
She just wanted that one sinner from the underground.
A smile slipped onto Chloe’s lips.
In the night breeze, it was beautiful.
But it was also dangerously fragile in another way.
What to do after she had her in hand?
Her imagination raced ahead. Not the damp floor of the underground, but a bed scented with perfume. A night where no one would interrupt. She wanted to lay her down and touch every inch slowly, thoroughly.
A narrow cell, eyes of guards who might appear at any moment. There was no place to indulge freely. She wanted something more exquisite.
“…Especially on the first night.”
The night they had devoured each other on the stone floor.
Clumsy, lost in heat, the cold eating at her back. The next time would be different. She wanted to capture every moment of the moment when she collapsed, from beginning to end.
How her neck arched under certain hands. How her cool eyes clouded when touched in certain places. Everything. She wanted to know everything about her.
“I’ll learn every single thing. All of it.”
If it wasn’t enough, she would do it again. Method after method. What did she need? Her lower belly burned while she counted. An almost dizzying thrill ran through her.
“Start from the beginning. Slowly. Take everything.”
With every word she savored, her body tightened. Chloe stroked her body over the nightgown. Memory and expectation intertwined, growing hotter.
This wasn’t trust.
She remembered her words.
Don’t trust me, it was painful to say.
This is just a transaction, right?
The corner of Chloe’s mouth twisted.
“I’ll take you. All of you. Completely.”
She had said she would be weighed. She had bet everything that remained after she fought to survive. Chloe hadn’t calculated how desperate that resolve had been. She didn’t want to. Such emotions were unnecessary.
The thing on the scale…
Belonged to the one who had paid the price.
The wind blew stronger.
The thin nightgown wrapped tighter around her.
Chloe closed her eyes and savored the sensation.
It felt like her touch, like a craving.
“…Just a little longer.”
At least until her birthday. Until the day she would make her completely her own. When that day came, she would never let go again.
Below the balcony, the night was deep.
The stars were still scattered.
Had she said she had lost color in exchange for the devil?
What a foolish woman. Truly.
The color that had left her sinner was still perfectly here under this sky. Chloe stood beneath the night sky for a long time.
Her hardened heart burned hot.
Just like Chloe’s own red eyes.
“I’ll come soon, Cecilia.”
She swept her tongue across her lips once more.
The sweetness was already gone…
But the thirst was even clearer.
The villainess of the empire was said to seduce people.
Perhaps that curse was real after all.