Red Labyrinth - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Icaryl watched as he took off his long coat and shirt and changed into a new one. He buttoned up his sleeves and walked back to her, grabbing her by the nape of her neck and putting her on his lap. His left thumb was stroking her earlobe while his other hand held her slender ankle that was bleeding until now. Stiff and immobilized, she was like a doll, not a person.

The hand that lifted her bloody garment and wiped her bloody legs was quite meticulous. She couldn’t believe that it was the hand of a killer. He wiped her feet and gradually went up. Icaryl was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice that because of the tension. Only when his long, slim fingers reached her pelvis did she turn around. The man grabbed her wrist, his face emotionless.

It was a small force, but it was enough for her to be threatened. She gasped, her face flushed and tears welled up in her eyes. The little whimper and helplessness of the body were stopped by the aching hand. As Lucien held her at a slight angle, he could see the small, swollen tip.

“How old are you?”

She answered him.

“16.”
“Really?”

Without any surprise or denial, he spoke plainly.

“First time?”

She nodded, shutting her eyes closed.

She was so ashamed. There was no other woman present in the room. She flinched as Lucien slipped his hand to the inner side of her thighs. Her reaction as a young girl was completely contrary to what he had thought.

He asked as he swept her parts.

“Amazing, you’re still young and your brother-in-law wanted to have you like this?”

Icaryl stayed quiet.

Hatiah’s strange obsession for her was also a mystery to her. As the king’s son-in-law and future ruler, there were many beautiful women around him. He could be attracted by the beauty of many people, be it, men or women.

The princess, who was engaged to him, only had a defect in her lower jaw, but the rest of her body was excellent. So obviously, Hatiah wasn’t even a tiny bit interested in Icaryl, who barely had any baby fat.

But one day, when it was raining heavily, Icaryl was playing alone in a forest connected with the temple and the royal palace. She fell off and broke her leg. She swallowed a groan as she was found by a group of people, riding on horses.

While his entourage went to call for a servant, he was irritated as he stood by the little girl and even tried to leave her alone when they were late. Icaryl, who was frightened, cried in pain and clung to him. The girl, who had her little toes ripped off roughly on the floor, suddenly stopped crying and stared at Hatiah with a sullen look.

She had said,
“If you don’t take me with you, you’ll also struggle with the pain of your limb being torn every night.”

Hatiah, frozen as if struck by her, stared at her in a way as if he had never seen her face. Soon after, Icaryl returned to her usual soft, sensitive self. Drenched in rain, she smiled softly like a mist with strands of hair clinging to her face and hazy red eyes. Hatiah was staring blankly at her fluffy, transparent, and deep-set red-green eyes. Only after the attendants came did he shifted his eyes away.

Since then, his attitude towards her had a hundred and eighty degrees change, but she was so little that he couldn’t have her right away. He watched her every move, whether she was ill or was being rebuked by the female priests, who took care of her. He was no different from the greedy fox who wished for the vineyard graves to ripen soon.

Icaryl did not remember much of her childhood.

She just knew at one point in time, the nobleman, Oravany, was impatient with her. She thought there was no one else who could be engrossed in her beauty as her womanhood had not begun then.

However, to Lucien, her small and weak body seemed very exciting and marvelous. He touched her earlobe and tapped on her painted chin and soft eyelids. He slowly unbuttoned her garment, sweeping his fingers along her collarbone and the dent in her neck. Shivers ran down her spine as she felt his cold touch.

“You’re so small and weak. Is it because of your family’s genetic disease? Seems like you’ll die right away if I attempt to possess you.”

Lucien poured his nose into the white hair of Icaryl. It seemed like she was more of a small wild animal than a woman. No, she still looked too young to be a woman. The way she flinched from his scent was also cute.

First of all, there was the smell of blood which she was familiar with, ever since the first time they met. Second, there was a faint haze in the air that seemed to have flown from a damp rain-soaked trunk of a tree from a faraway forest. And lastly, the sweat of a young creature fleeing from the beast. It was a mixture of the three.

The touch of his fingertips was soft. The last button of her dress, which seemed difficult to unbutton…..fell on the floor after a light *crack* sound of a thread.

As she burst into tears, Lucien realized that her garment was torn. This was always his strategy whenever he had made up with women. He was the reason behind all sorts of abnormal incidents and operations, but his sexual orientation was too much for this sunshine girl.

He looked at her exposed face full of tears with dull eyes before he covered it with a robe, as if it was a sack. He saw her small chin dripping with tears as he hugged her and buttoned her up.

Her red watery eyes were so intoxicating.

It had the color of bloodstains on rose leaves, her lashes fluttered like a butterfly’s wings.

And most of all, they stimulated the beauty of nature…..

As her frowning face was reflected in his blue eyes, her red pupils widened and she shivered as if she had just spotted a serpent, who was well disguised, sticking out from the grass.

Her skinny little foot, which was about to fall on the floor, flashed back into the air. Her fingers clenched as she felt another tremor near her stomach.

Soon after, he swallowed Icaryl’s lips roughly, as if to desperately crush her shaky red eyes.

*

“You are Icaryl, the last princess of Argonia. Is that right?”

The respective facial expressions of the aristocrats reminded her of the priests of the temple, who thought she had left in her past. Immediately, she felt a chill in her spine. It reminded her of the day when her fate was decided. Icaryl answered, quivering like a sick person.

“Yes, I-I am.”

There was nothing more she could do. Even before she finished her sentence, they began to discuss among themselves. The old men in purple clothing glanced at her disapprovingly. She caught one of their lips saying, “God’s maid of honor”. They looked like they were the leaders of the Imperial religion.

In the midst of a great deal of disagreement, the beautiful lady said.

“I think we’re going to have to hear what Esperesse has to say. Either way, the credit of this war goes to him after all.”
“It’ll be an honor, Your Majesty.”

Was she the concubine of the Empire?

As their eyes met again, she quickly dropped her gaze. The feeling of being eaten was still fresh in her mind. She had to struggle to suppress her urge to bite her nails again. A slow, dignified imperial accent reached her ears.

“I had already made a statement earlier. It would be better to offer the last bloodline of Argonia to the Emperor.”
“Offer?”
“Yes, it will serve as a great pleasure for His Highness since he has lost his strength due to his illness.”

The subtle look disappeared from the faces of the priests and the aristocrats. Icaryl stole a glimpse of his face to see that he was smiling slightly. She couldn’t believe it even if she heard through her own ears.

‘You’re offering me to the Emperor?’

Her eyes, full of anxiety turned to the side of the man, whose thoughts were so unknown. She might have to live in despair again, the same as her home.

‘Are you going to turn me over to the Emperor?’

But flames of relief rose in half of her body as she wanted to live, whatever method she had to suffer from.

“Whoa, are joking? His Highness often suffers from seizures and long fever. How can you offer him such a young chick? Do you want him to become a pervert?”

A skinny middle-aged man with a monocle nagged. The plain remark once again stirred the table. Amid various disputes due to excitement and fear, the parties involved in the conflict sat on the sidelines throughout the rest of the conversation regarding the salvage.

While Lucien was gazing at Icaryl.

His blue eyes narrowed into slits. The side of his lips slightly rose up before fading away again. Icaryl was more sensitive and tenacious than anyone else, he thought.

That man knew how to win.

And less than an hour later, Icaryl was granted the surname of Si Bonne and became the Emperor’s mistress.