Lust for the King’s Wife

Chapter 13: Two Thoughts (2)

“…The Dragon’s Labyrinth was like an enormous spiderweb, woven with darkness so thick you could barely see a step ahead. Even the slightest sound would draw monsters from every direction. If not for the lantern from the Elf Elder, I doubt we’d have made it out alive.”

“The Elf Elder’s lantern, hmm. I heard it held quite the mysterious power.”

“It wasn’t so extraordinary. It simply burned eternally, never going out. The curses and temptations of the monsters—we had to endure those with sheer willpower.”

“You mean the succubi?”

“The dragon commanded all manner of beasts. Jorfe and Siha were immune to their abilities, so they targeted me exclusively.”

“Clever creatures, aren’t they? They have the knack for mimicking the appearance of someone their target desires.”

“They do. I thought it was just a legend until I saw it myself.”

“So, who did they mimic for you?”

In the dim glow of the flickering lantern, Mirian asked the question with an air of nonchalance, yet her foot twitched slightly, as though betraying her interest. 

She still wore her characteristic lack of emotion, but her subtle movements made it clear she was fishing for a particular answer.

Seeing her like that made me want to withhold the truth.

“A woman who looked remarkably like you.”

“A woman who looked like me? Doesn’t that essentially mean it was me?”

“No. Because I haven’t confirmed if you have the same mole on your thigh yet.”

It was a provocative statement. Yet she responded lightly, showing no signs of fluster.

“Artists often put moles on parts of their body they find most attractive. Seems heroes aren’t all that different.”

“I doubt that’s the reason. It’s not your most alluring feature.”

“Then what is?”

“I’ve already marked it. Even if it’s faded now.”

“Ha.”

Finally, Mirian chuckled softly, a rare smile gracing her lips since my arrival.

Still, my gaze was drawn to her body. In truth, it had been all along.

Her nightgown didn’t reveal much—it was winter, after all—but something about her defenselessness captured my attention. 

It was as though she’d left herself unguarded, inviting me into the ordinary moments of her life.

I couldn’t help but imagine holding her, not as a lover, but as someone sharing her everyday life. No pretense, no ulterior motive, just the gentle act of embracing her frail figure.

“You seem deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m thinking about holding you.”

“Honest, aren’t you? Do you behave this honestly with the princess as well?”

“That’s a different matter.”

“Go on, tell me. Tonight, you’re here to tell me stories, aren’t you?”

“If you wish. But first, I’ll need payment for my tale.”

Sitting on the small chair beside her bed, I finally crossed a line. Mirian, anticipating the move, prepared to push me away.

Yet I didn’t press further. I simply stared into her face, maintaining the delicate gap between us. Eventually, it was she who broke the silence.

“Finally realizing your place?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“The opposite, you say?”

“I’ve always been the one to move first. This time, it’s your turn.”

“And why should I?”

“Because you belong to me.”

“Still as arrogant as ever.”

Her voice carried a cold sneer, and I braced myself for another sharp reprimand.

I clenched my teeth, waiting for the rebuke—but it never came. Instead, a soft hand brushed against the back of my neck, melting away my tension.

“Still, you’re not wrong. A skilled storyteller deserves a reward, if only for the sake of royal dignity.”

“I’m relieved to hear my time wasn’t wasted.”

“The same goes for me.”

“So, what kind of reward will you give me?”

“Hmm. I haven’t decided yet.”

“…”

“Though… I feel like I’ve never really taken a good look at your face.”

The hand at my neck pressed slightly, and an almost imperceptible force pushed against my back. I felt as though I were floating for a moment.

Then, in an instant, she pulled my wrist, and I collapsed onto her bed. Thanks to the pillow already in place, my head landed softly.

Mirian watched me for a moment before resting her head on the remaining space beside mine. The gap between us was barely the width of a hand.

“You said you imagined holding me, didn’t you?”

“…”

“In this situation, wouldn’t it be easier to imagine?”

She’s maddeningly enchanting. Just when you think she’s pushing you away, she pulls you back in—like a noose tightening around your neck. Mirian was the rope, and I was hopelessly ensnared.

Even now, her expression betrayed no emotion. Her frozen violet eyes calmly traced my form, scrutinizing every detail.

“Up close, it feels different. Your eye color is deeper than I thought.”

“You’re exactly as I imagined.”

“Well, you’ve seen me countless times through the succubi. Did they resemble me that closely?”

“Shall I confirm it?”

I asked in a suggestive tone, reaching toward her thigh. Immediately, a firm but gentle hand pushed my arm away.

“Just because someone resembles me doesn’t mean you can treat me like a succubus.”

“I never acted like this with them. They weren’t you.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I ended their breaths with precision, ensuring not a single scratch marred their bodies.”

“Why go to such lengths when you knew they weren’t me?”

“Because I wanted to see your face, even if only a facsimile.”

That’s how deeply I had missed her. Just once—meeting her once had left an indelible mark. 

Killing those succubi had been both torment and necessity, and I couldn’t push away the princess who resembled her.

But now, she was here, right before me. My gaze lingered on her as if she might vanish if I so much as blinked. If tears began to form, I blinked them away hastily, not wanting to miss a single second.

In contrast, Mirian didn’t meet my eyes. She stared past my shoulder, into the empty space beyond. If our gazes ever came close to meeting, she swiftly looked away.

At first glance, it seemed like a firm refusal to let me in. But to me, it felt different.

“Well, I suppose this is reward enough. Now…”

“Mirian.”

“Yes?”

“You’re completely at a loss.”

With those words, I cupped her cheek. My fingers moved with the utmost care, catching the faint light of the long-dormant moon.

“When I moved first, you cut my wrist and gripped my throat. But now that I’m waiting, you’re awkward and unsure of what to do. You said you’d give me a reward, but in the end, you’ve ceded the lead to me.”

“…”

“You’re even clumsy at meeting my gaze. You’re only used to pushing people away. You’ve barely ever pulled someone closer.”

“…Hmm.”

“Is everything new to you? So unfamiliar that it’s hard to move at all?”

The whispered words lingered in the air, unanswered. Mirian continued to fix me with her cold gaze, her expression devoid of any reaction or movement.

Over her shoulder, the faint glow of dawn began to seep into the window frame. The short night’s cover was being drawn away.

“If you feel lonely, I’ll be by your side, Mirian.”

“You decide what to say and draw your own conclusions, don’t you?”

“I just want you to be happy. If it becomes unbearable, you can come to my room.”

“Ha.”

“But since I know you won’t do that, I’ll come to you instead.”

With that, I finished speaking and, for the first time, kissed her cheek instead of her lips. My hand lingered there, stroking the spot gently before I rose to my feet.

Mirian let out a deep sigh. Still lying on the bed, her breath carried soft, murmuring words.

“This is troublesome. Falling in love with someone as willful as you.”

“That’s just how human hearts work.”

“You’re strangely bold in some ways, yet oddly timid in others. Why is that?”

“I don’t want to burden my companions any further.”

“A fine sentiment of friendship.”

“More like being the worst friend imaginable.”

With a bitter chuckle, I turned toward the door. But just as I was about to leave, Mirian’s voice stopped me one last time.

“We didn’t get to talk as much as I thought tonight.”

“…”

“Will you come again tomorrow?”

Her subtle voice sent a shiver down my spine, as though she had reached inside me to stir my very core.

Carrying the weight of her words, I stepped into the dim hallway. The faint glow of dawn clung to my shoulders like smudges of ash.

As the hero left the witch’s chamber, the chill returned. The secluded room, untouched by a man’s presence for years, welcomed its old companion, silence.

But this time, the silence didn’t last. Not long after the sound of my retreating footsteps faded, three soft knocks echoed against the door.

“Your Majesty. It’s me.”

“Enter.”

Though the visitor did not identify themselves, the witch readily allowed them inside. The door opened, revealing a petite maid.

It was the same maid who had guided the hero to the witch before. Bowing deeply, she got straight to the point.

“Has the hero visited again tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll report it.”

“Do so.”

The maid’s words lacked a subject, as if the two shared a longstanding secret.

Having delivered her message, the maid bowed once more and turned to leave. But before she could go, she paused to ask an unexpected question.

“Your Majesty, have you caught a cold?”

“Why do you ask?”

“There’s a redness in your cheeks.”

At the comment, the witch raised a hand to her face, brushing her cheek with her fingers. Of course, no matter how much she touched it, the redness did not come off.

A moment of thought crossed her face before she shifted the conversation.

“The sage and the elf. They’re leaving in three days, correct?”

“It has been a day since they said so.”

“Then two days remain.”

“Yes, though they mentioned they might leave earlier.”

“I see.”

The witch nodded and turned to face the window. The gesture was as much a dismissal as her words, and it wasn’t long before the sound of retreating footsteps and a closing door echoed in the room.

Silence returned to the witch’s chamber once again. Wandering near the window, she cast her gaze into the void and muttered softly.

“It’s hard to wait.”

…

“I want his heart so badly.”

For a fleeting moment, something transparent glistened at the corner of her eye. 

It might have been a tear, but it soon blurred into the pale light of dawn, seeping into the room’s lingering shadows.