PCP – 83

Thank you raw provider: Laylie

An hour has passed since Louise left the Marquis Evergreen estate.

Damia was relieved to see Cecil regained her peace of mind.

“I’m going to go now. Just in case, don’t eat or drink anything that Louise brought as a gift, okay?”

“··········· Yeah. “

Cecil glanced at Louise’s gift with an anxious look and pushed it away with her feet. Louise had brought something called ‘red ginseng’ imported from the East as a gift.

It was a waste because it was precious, but there was nothing she could do. Even if the gift was innocent, there was no good feeling produced by the simple fact the giver was Louise.

“Thank you for coming today. Goodbye, Damia.”

After Cecil saw her off, Damia departed for home.

It was a sunny day. The clear wind carrying the scent of the forest blew through the carriage’s window. The soothing rumble gently relaxed her nerves that had been on edge the whole morning.

“We have arrived, miss.”

Did I doze off?

Damia looked out, rubbing her eyes. Beyond the sky where the dim dusk fell, a familiar mansion was seen.


Outside, the coachman opened the door. Damia accepted the horseman’s escort to get off the wagon with her skirt gathered as usual.

Then, she was surprised.

‘This feeling…..’

It was not the usual feeling. The hand of the horseman in his 40s was very rough and hot. But instead the hand holding hers it was a cold and smooth hand.


It was as if she heard the coachman’s panic behind her.

A voice like frozen ice on a distant black lake.

Damia recognized the owner of that voice before her eyes confirmed it. And in that moment she was so startled she lost her balance.


Her dress, like a white magnolia flower, fluttered in the air. If she fell from such a height off the carriage she would sprain her slender ankle.

But before that, a hard arm and a wide chest grabbed and held her against them.

The face reflected on Damie’s big eyes was beautiful. A handsome young man with black hair and blue eyes with the cool impression unique to northerns was staring at her.

“You almost fell down. You should be more careful.”

It was an ominous warning. His lips as they addressed Damia made her think they were as red as poisonous apples.

Damia clenched her teeth, suppressing her shuddering.

“·····Brother. Nice to see you again.”

He had been hiding as if he hadn’t returned from the High Temple, and now she didn’t know why he had appeared.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Cesare did not easily fall for her provocation. As if he hadn’t hid in her bedroom, it was despicable in her sight to see his eyes as clear and innocent as a young boy’s.

Also, the fact that she was in his arms was giving her goosebumps. Damia struggled to reduce their contact by even a tiny bit, pushing his shoulders away with both arms.

“Get off!”

But Cesare was also a tall young man, so he easily overpowered her resistance.

“Oh, my.”

Cesare bitterly snickered, he subdued and pressed her waist and thighs tightly with both arms and clasped her even higher. It was high enough to break Damia’s soft skull if she fell backwards. Damia, who felt a sense of crisis, stopped struggling for a moment.

Her legs dangled in the air, and the hem of her white skirt floated. Seeing this, a smile bloomed across Cesare’s face.

“It looks like dandelions caught in the wind. How lovely.”

How he wished he could encircle her like this. He wanted to take root down in her naval, wrap himself around her heart and suck on it until he drank up the last drop of blood.

His feelings that were forced into her were so clingy that she was exhausted just by observing them. The pressure made her feel like she was suffocating and going to be swallowed up at any moment.

Eventually, Damia, whose patience ran out, reached out and grabbed his hair.

“······I asked you to let me down, brother.”

Her eyes on her opponent who was crushing her, burned blue with hostility. There was no reluctance in pulling Cesare’s hair. If he dropped her to the ground, she would also make sure he fell down with her.


As Damia pulled Cesare’s hair his tone was ambiguous, she wasn’t sure if he was moaning in pleasure or exclaiming in pain.

Then, he spoke quietly,

“That’s not enough. More, harder.”


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