Kiss the Stranger

“His voice crashed in my ears like thunder. Pain stabbed me, and my face twisted before a moan escaped. Still, I couldn’t raise my head. Frozen with fear, I lay as Asgail’s next words fell over me.
“Lift your head.”
He commanded, but my body refused. Not even a finger obeyed—I only trembled. Silence stretched, my heart pounding, and then the sweet scent around me dimmed. My swollen cheek made it hard to open my eye fully, but through half-closed lids I saw his large hand. Asgail, startled, gently gripped my chin and lifted my face. Against my will, our eyes met.

“……”
The silence crushed me. He simply stared, brow furrowed, as if displeased, though I couldn’t guess why. I only prayed he would not punish me further.
“…I…”

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke in a lower voice than usual.
“Yesterday… did I strike you?”
Deep lines etched between his brows as he seemed to recall whether his rut-induced blackout had led him to hit me. But that couldn’t be—no matter how he’d poured himself into me or how much pheromone I’d emitted, I hadn’t entered heat, not even scented the air. He could not have rut so strongly. His thin eyes narrowed.

“What happened to you? You refused to come, and then you took a blow?”
His calm tone carried no emotion; I didn’t know how to answer. But I knew his implication was false. Shaking my head, I managed,
“I didn’t… resist. I was asleep, and the head page… struck me to wake me.”
“Only to rouse you?”

I nodded. He’d beaten me more than necessary, but that had been his sole intent. Asgail still frowned. Unease settled in me—until he suddenly yelled,
“Ÿou stubborn brat!”
“Ugh!”

His roar pierced my ears, and I cried out again. Asgail frowned at my cry, and the door burst open. The head page rushed in.
“Yes, Your Highness. You summoned me?”

“Was it you who mangled his face?”
“Y-Your Highness…” The head page stammered, bowing.
“It was like this: he failed to appear, so I found him sleeping in the lab. To wake him, I struck him soundly. A firm hand is the only remedy for lazy, lewd omegas.”

He straightened, triumphant, and offered a torn remnant of my clothing.
“Your Highness, I left his clothes intact in case you wished to strip him now.”
Asgail looked down at my shredded shirt. Panic made me fumble to fasten it, but trembling hands failed. He merely watched my exposed body briefly, then said,

“No. Go now.”
The page paused in confusion, then obeyed. Once the door closed, I and Asgail remained alone.
The warmth of his palm still lingered on my chin. I recalled Kamar’s gentle heat as he had cradled me—then Asgail withdrew his hand. Turning away, he muttered under his breath,

‘To pity an omega…’
The words struck me deep; I did not know whether to feel ashamed that he pitied me or grateful that he showed me any mercy.
Asgail poured wine into a glass. Though forbidden to commoners, he had drunk nightly since that day, mixing unknown powders as well. He downed several goblets in one breath, then set the glass aside and strode toward the bed.
He might change his mind again. Heart hammering, I dared only crawl forward on hands and knees, drawing close enough to reach him. He propped himself on the bed, head in hand, sighing deeply—the fatigue plain on his face. Each inch closer, his scent grew richer.

Hah, hah.
Gasping, I halted at his feet. He lifted his eyelids slowly; through his fingers glinted those violet eyes. We held each other’s gaze in silence.
He still had nothing to say—only watched me, brows relaxed. I felt I must speak.

“…Shall I remove it?”
My shaking hand moved to the torn collar. If my clothes were unwearable, I would remain naked—no one would bring me new garments. I thought of other omegas cast out naked and shivered. I looked up in fear, but Asgail frowned again. My heart sank—until he said,
“No. Rest today.”

I nearly cried out. I watched him lie back on the bed, uncertainty twisting me in knots. Could I risk ripping this shirt completely? Or should I obey him?
He understood I was a wreck. No matter what omegas were used for, my face and body were truly in ruins. My eyes burned, but tears did not fall. My throat was parched—I tried to conjure saliva, but nothing came. Drought gripped my mouth so fiercely even swallowing felt impossible.
I lifted my head to plead silently, and found him sitting up, watching me.

“…What are you doing? If you need to wet your tongue, go outside. I won’t watch more humiliation.”
His harsh words stung. I buried my face, mortified. I didn’t know how ugly I must look.
My vision blurred with unshed tears—I struggled to swallow as a faint wheeze echoed in my throat. Then he spoke again, softer this time.

“…The princess keeps such savage pets, yet you’re worse than a dog…”
He trailed off; I dared not meet his eyes. He rose and walked to a table, filling a glass with water. The liquid’s trickle sounded distant. He returned and I tensed, but my back screamed with pain. I flinched, his displeased frown visible in my mind’s eye. Each step he took, his scent thickened, and my breaths grew ragged.
Hah, hah.

He stood before me once more. I lifted my shaking eyes to his stoic face. He watched my swollen cheeks and trembling lips, then whispered,
“Drink.”
He held out the glass. I stared—was this a dream or a mercy? He frowned.

“Can’t you understand words now?”
The quiet command struck with fear, and I lunged for the cup—only to drop it.
“Aah!”

The cup survived, but the water spilled onto the carpet. He clicked his tongue.
“What a mess.”
He turned away to refill the cup. My heart hammered—could I risk another failure? When he returned, he said,

“This time, don’t drop it.”
I nodded dumbly, and this time I clutched the cup with both hands. His eyes confirmed my grip, and he released [N O V E L I G H T] his concern. The water glinted clear and cool. My tongue cracked as I whispered,
“Th-thank you…”

I brought the rim to my lips and sipped. The cold water felt sacred. I closed my eyes, letting it trickle down my throat. Each swallow revived my tongue until it finally felt moist.
Ah.
Finishing the cup, relief washed through me. I savored the return of moisture, breathing slowly to calm my racing heart. Opening my eyes, I saw Asgail watching me still. He’d poured water not for cruelty, but for mercy. I realized then that he had never truly looked away.