Chapter 004. The Grand Duke’s Spoils (4)

Sionne’s eyes, which had momentarily widened in shock, quickly filled with fierce hatred.

“Tsk.”

Rosalyn, unaffected, circled around him.

“You look like a mess.”

Returning to her original spot, Rosalyn grabbed Sionne’s face with one hand, turning it left and right as she observed him closely.

‘At least it seems like he hasn’t lost his mind despite the brutal torture. That’s a relief, I suppose.’

His appearance was pitiful, but the fire in his eyes still burned brightly, filled with intense emotion, which she found somewhat satisfying. His vivid blue eyes glared at her with raw emotion.

“You’ve suffered a lot of damage. Who did this to you?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Sionne swatted her hand away. Her words were revolting. Who did this?

“What does it matter?”

“Hah.”

Rosalyn smirked, rotating her wrist that had been swatted away. It seemed she needed to remind him of his place.

“What does it matter?”

She asked, her tone neutral.

Wham. She kicked Sionne hard in the shin.

“Ugh!”

Sionne’s already weakened legs collapsed instantly. With his hands tied, he couldn’t even brace himself as he fell, his face slamming into the floor.

Sionne bit down on his lip as his face hit the ground. The pain was so overwhelming that it rendered him incapable of making any noise.

“Ugh…”

All he could manage was a low groan as his throat rasped.

As his groaning subsided, Rosalyn crouched down to his level, lifting his face with her hand—carelessly, without any hint of gentleness.

“If you have a brain, think about it. Who do you think would be checking their spoils for any damage?”

Rosalyn pressed her thumb into his lips, freeing them from the grip of his clenched teeth.

“Tsk, I can’t let you get damaged without permission.”

This wasn’t just pointless interference. It was the clear relationship between master and spoils of war.

“Spoils… of war?”

Sionne repeated her words unconsciously. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, her reasoning explained the situation.

Why the once violent and forceful guard had suddenly softened. Why he had been brought to this desolate palace instead of the execution ground.

“Are you saying I’m your spoils of war?”

His voice betrayed his desperate hope that this was all a misunderstanding. He wanted her to laugh and deny it, to mock him for asking such a ridiculous question.

But hopeful wishes are often quickly shattered.

“Yes, it seems your hearing is fine.”

Rosalyn said with a bright smile, almost as if she was praising him. In the dark room, her smile was the only thing that gleamed brightly.

In contrast, Sionne’s face sank further into despair. To be called a spoil of war was a humiliation beyond words.

Even if he wanted to live, not like this.

Death would have been far more honorable.

“Kill me.”

It wasn’t a curse or a scream. These words escaped his lips before anything else.

“What?”

But those words alone were enough to completely irritate Rosalyn.

“I don’t want to live as a mere spoil. No, I won’t live.”

Sionne’s jaw clenched as if he was ready to bite his tongue and end it all right then.

Smack!

Rosalyn slapped him hard across the face.

“Who said you could…!”

She grabbed his cheeks with both hands, forcing his mouth open. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she shoved her hand inside his mouth.

His sharp teeth sank painfully into her hand, and the slick feel of his saliva soaked her fingers.

But Rosalyn didn’t flinch.

In the humid warmth of his mouth, she gripped his quivering tongue.

“Grr…”

The half-formed protest died as it traveled up her arm and dissipated.

“If you’ve realized your position, then you should understand this—you no longer have the right to decide even your own life or death.”

Rosalyn’s smile had long since disappeared. Her eyes, now cold and hard, gazed down at him.

“Of course, if you keep acting like this, I might just kill you.”

Sionne’s feeble resistance weakened at the mention of death. It was as if that was all he desired.

“But I am curious.”

Her mocking tone returned, clearly displeased by the situation.

“Despite all the people you’ve killed, they always said you were just and righteous. So, I wonder, our dear prince—will you end up in hell or heaven?”

Sionne had a nickname similar to hers as well.

Prince of Pure White.

It was a nickname that praised him for always being at the forefront of difficult tasks and caring for the weak. It also served as a contrast to the corruption that had infested the Feitan royal family.

But that wasn’t the only meaning behind it.

‘The prince… I don’t know what’s going on in his head.’

‘Why? What did he do this time?’

‘Last night, he ordered us not to kill the woman who came to assassinate him. He said to send her to the capital without harming a hair on her head.’

‘Is she pretty? Ha, typical man. But if that’s the case, why didn’t he just take her into his tent instead of sending her to the capital?’

‘Who knows? It seems bedding her wasn’t his goal.’

‘Ugh—what, then why?’

‘He’s just too soft when it comes to women and children. Something about chivalry, tsk.’

‘Leave him be. He’s our Prince of Pure White after all. Maybe he had some childish fantasies about knights back when he was a commoner.’

Some used the nickname sarcastically. The knights under Sionne often expressed their dissatisfaction by mocking him with it.

“…”

Sionne’s brow furrowed. He clearly remembered the knights who had talked behind his back, but now, he couldn’t recall their faces.

“And what about sweet, simple Merilyn? Do you think she’s on her way to heaven? Ah, but salvation isn’t decided by things like that, is it?”

“!”

For a moment, Sionne nearly bit down on his tongue in shock—or rather, on the hand still gripping his tongue.

“It’s all so complicated. So, the reunion between you and Merilyn isn’t even guaranteed after death?”

The Red Witch’s words never stopped.

He hadn’t imagined he would hear the name of his family—whose fates were still unknown—from her lips. It felt like the ground had fallen away beneath him in an instant.

“Ahh—I’m the type who can’t stand unanswered questions, so I’ll just have to try it out for myself.”

Seeing Sionne’s reaction, Rosalyn licked her lips. Judging by his expression, she had clearly hit a nerve.

“Ugh.”

Sionne gagged. It was partly due to the fingers still pressing against the base of his tongue, but also because of Rosalyn’s ceaseless, taunting words.

At first, her words seemed like meaningless chatter thrown into the air. But once the haze cleared, all that remained was pure malice.

He could feel the malice tightening around his throat.

“Go on ahead and wait. I’ll send your family to join you soon.”

Rosalyn shoved Sionne’s face away.

A thin string of saliva stretched between her fingers and his mouth, snapping with a slight *pop*.

She wiped her hand against her clothes a few times before pulling out a dagger from within her robes.

“M-Merilyn… and Anna… do you know them?”

Freed at last, Sionne gasped for air as his first words tumbled out. Though his speech was slurred from his injured tongue, it was still understandable.

“Of course. I even know some interesting stories about them,” Rosalyn said as she twirled the dagger in her hand.

“I heard that a child who lost his parents was raised by a kind village elder. They lived together happily until the child turned eighteen.”

As the story continued, Sionne had to suppress the rage welling up inside him.

“One day, the royal family came to claim the child, declaring he was of royal blood. Just like that, the child became a prince overnight.”

For nearly fifty years, the royal authority in Feitan had never been stable. In that time, the throne had changed hands close to a dozen times.

It had gotten to the point where even the common people would bet on how long the new king would last.

‘How long do you think this one will last?’

‘I say four years! I’m betting on four years.’

‘Oh, come on, it’ll last longer than that!’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. If it lasts two years, that’ll be long.’

Kings were beheaded before they could even sire an heir, and if they did, the heir would be purged by the next revolt. It was no wonder the Feitan royal lineage had nearly come to an end.

To make matters worse, Feitan’s last king, a man known for his debauchery and obsession with women, had an issue with infertility. He had taken countless women to his bed but never produced an heir.

So, the royal family scoured the land, and that’s how they found Sionne Feitan, a distant relative.

“And yet, the prince cherished the old woman and her granddaughter so much that he regularly visited them even after entering the palace.”

Rosalyn snickered as she spoke.

If they were so precious, he should have hidden them. He should have kept his affection a secret. But perhaps, having grown up as a commoner, he hadn’t understood even that basic principle.

“It’s such a fairytale story, don’t you think, Prince Charming?”

Sionne, who had now risen to his feet, glared at Rosalyn with eyes filled with the intent to kill. His once lifeless gaze was now burning red with fury.