NOVEL NEXT chapter 71
“Rikal!”
I barely managed to block the cat, claws fully extended, as he lunged at Asgail. A sharp talon grazed my arm, and I fell back onto the bed with a groan.
All the while, Rikal continued to yowl wildly, squirming in my arms as if determined to carve claw marks into that man’s face.
“Rikal, please. Please stay still. Rikal.”
I held the cat tight as if begging, and now he turned his anger on me instead. He let out a sharp cry and lashed out with ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) his paw at my head—yet still retracted his claws. While I struggled to keep him contained, a voice sounded from above me.
“What’s with this cat? Does he think he’s a lion?”
At the sound of his voice, the slightly calmer Rikal thrashed again. Clinging with all my strength, I heard Asgail continue.
“Let him be. I’m curious how far he’ll go.”
Trembling, I lifted my head—and froze at the sight of his face. I shuddered. He looked down at me and Rikal with no emotion whatsoever. I shook my head in panic. If it had been Qamar, he might have let it go, but this man was different. He would never forgive someone who dared bare claws at him, even if it were a small cat.
“Y-Your Highness… I’m sorry. It’s just that no one follows this cat except me….”
Asgail’s eyes narrowed. I sensed the tension and flinched, and he spoke again.
“That’s not what I’ve heard. I was told he’s been roaming around and getting fed without you.”
“W-well, that’s…”
Desperate to defuse the situation, I hastily invented an excuse.
“R-Rikal hates alphas… so that’s why. Y-Yes, that’s it.”
It wasn’t a lie. He had probably hated Qamar for the same reason. But I’d belatedly realized there was a difference between ordinary alpha pheromones and an ultra-alpha’s scent. I watched him nervously, but Asgail’s impassive expression revealed nothing. I hesitated, then added softly,
“…I’m sorry. He just seems to dislike you….”
I thought it was better than a clumsy lie, but it didn’t improve the situation. Asgail still looked down at me with those thin eyes. My heart pounded. He leaned in slowly. Before I could react, his hand touched my hip. Then he began to knead my flesh.
“……?”
It was my first time experiencing anything like this, and I was utterly bewildered. I held my breath, clutching Rikal, my body going rigid. Asgail stroked my hip, tugged down my trousers, and began to rub the folds beneath. His thick, firm fingertips exploring such an unexpected place made me widen my eyes in shock. It was the first time he’d ever touched me so intimately. I felt my breath catch and my vision blur—but it wasn’t pain. My trembling back throbbed, but I couldn’t stop shivering.
“Ah, ha, haa….”
Labored breaths escaped my lips. Asgail’s long fingers slipped inside and gently caressed my inner flesh. My body reacted on its own. The cat in my arms stirred anxiously, but I was so overwhelmed by simply holding him I couldn’t think of anything else. My breaths came in ragged gasps as Asgail’s slender fingers pressed deeper. That place, which had always been painfully torn by his large size, now opened smoothly. The foreign sensation remained, but I didn’t feel sick. I unconsciously hugged Rikal tighter. The cat, as if sensing my pain, sniffed and mewed anxiously. I couldn’t even comfort him—I only panted while holding him. Then Asgail added another finger. His touch rubbed deeper inside my smooth opening, with a firmer pressure. Part of me wanted him to go further. I tried to relax my waist on impulse.
Qamar used to lick me there.
Gasping harshly, I realized Asgail’s pheromones filled the air around me—I hadn’t even noticed him bathing me in scent as he touched me.
Was my clouded mind from his pheromones, or something else?
Face down, panting, I felt Asgail’s cool gaze on me. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly snorted with laughter. I looked up in surprise at his expression of contempt. Asgail spoke casually.
“Well, I suppose an omega like you couldn’t possibly be extreme.”
I froze for a moment. Without a word, he turned and tugged a strap by the bedside. The door swung open, and when the chamberlain entered, Asgail commanded,
“What use is an omega whose pheromones are ruined? Get him out of here.”
I understood then why he’d flooded me with pheromones and touched me—he suspected I’d been hiding extreme-omega traits. Looking down at my immobilized form, Asgail sneered.
“Even someone as utterly worthless as you must have some reason to live.”
I only stared up at him. Asgail added, as if granting mercy,
“At least take good care of that ugly cat of yours.”
Then he turned and left. As if on cue, the servants pounced on me. They hoisted me off the bed like luggage, dragging me away before I could even stand. From behind me, I heard the chamberlain ask,
“Your Highness, shall I bring in another omega for your pleasure today?”
With those words, the door closed.
I staggered back to the study, clutching Rikal, and smelled stale dust—apparently it had been unused for a long time. The room was a mess as if swept through several times, with very few belongings left. I carefully stepped past the overturned couch and chair, then stumbled into the adjoining room. Thankfully, the bed was intact. I lay down with a sigh of relief and immediately groaned. My back burned with pain, and I had no medicine to take. I could only writhe and wait for sleep, when a question suddenly surfaced in my mind.
Why did Asgail spare my life?
He said he’d personally killed the chamberlain who knew his secret. So why did he let me live?
Because I was worthless.
The answer came instantly.
Because I was nothing at all.
Tears came to my eyes, even though I should have been grateful.
“Even someone as utterly worthless as you must have some reason to live.”
Asgail’s voice echoed in my ears. He was right, I thought. It wasn’t a lie. So there was no need to feel upset.
It’s all right.
Hugging Rikal, I repeated those words to myself and finally drifted into sleep.
A faint knock roused me. I had slept fitfully all night and woke utterly exhausted. The knock sounded again at intervals.
“Ah….”
I groaned as I forced myself up and approached the door. Each step felt like torture; pain and dizziness nearly toppled me several times. By the time I reached the door, cold sweat dotted my brow.
Huff, huff.
My hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob. When I finally opened it, a familiar face stood in the corridor.
“Yohan.”
She greeted me by name. I tried to say her name, but my mouth was so dry no sound came out.
Zahara.
I moved my lips and called her. Only then did I notice the cart she’d brought. I managed to shift aside, and Zahara entered. Rikal, who had been circling my feet, pricked up his ears. Zahara, with practiced ease, found Rikal’s bowl and poured in food and water. Rikal dove in hungrily. As I tried again to thank her for feeding him, Zahara took another dish from the cart and set it on what remained of the table, then turned to me.
“Eat, Yohan. I’ll look at your wounds afterward.”
“M-Me too?”
My voice came out hoarse and thin—I startled even myself. Zahara nodded and urged me quietly to sit. I hesitated, then sank into a chair and stared at the still-warm soup.
Suddenly my stomach roared with hunger. The aroma of food after days had my head spinning. I wavered, then finally brought the spoon to my lips. My hand trembled so badly that it took all my effort to lift the spoon. It felt like ages before I managed to taste it. When I did, my stomach clenched so fiercely I screwed up my face.
“Is it odd?”
Zahara asked, concerned. I shook my head and took another spoonful. I had to pause several times as I ate slowly—my body ached, and it was exhausting. Still, I managed to fill my belly somewhat and set the spoon down. Zahara looked surprised again.
“That’s it?”
She nodded at the half-finished bowl of soup, and I forced a smile.
“I’m full….”
Zahara seemed perplexed, then said, “All right,” and began to clear away the dishes. Feeling the soup’s warmth in my stomach, I sighed with relief for the first time in days. Then I noticed Zahara hesitating.
Did she have more to say?
I looked up, and Zahara, meeting my gaze, paused before speaking carefully.
“Yohan, I have a favor to ask… is that okay?”
“For me?”
Could I do anything for her? A favor?
I blinked, puzzled, and Zahara, as if determined, finally spoke.
“I’ll bring food for you and Rikal from now on, but in return, I’d like you to weave me a carpet.”