Lust for the King’s Wife

Chapter 23: Two Men (3)

After the storm of chaos subsided, people returned to their respective places. 

The noise and tension vanished so swiftly that it felt as though they had been nothing more than an illusion. 

The chamber was soon engulfed in silence, with only a faint chill lingering in the air.

When even the guards and attendants were dismissed, the king was left entirely alone. 

For the first time in a long while, he was reacquainted with the sensation of solitude.

“…”

For the king and the hero, such a feeling was naturally unfamiliar. Being loved and praised by all was their role. 

For someone like the king, who bore both titles, there were few occasions to feel lonely.

Perhaps when his journey began. And again when that journey ended.

Even then, the latter instance was fleeting, easily swept away by the treasures acquired along the way.

And among those treasures were people.

“Hmm…”

People.

Calling them treasures might seem dehumanizing. Yet, for a hero who considered friendship and love as valuable as riches, it wasn’t such a far-fetched notion. 

Everything gained from an adventure—whether material or relational—was like a star in the sky, shining brilliantly.

For this reason, the king’s sky was always filled with countless stars. Counting them one by one brought joy, and sometimes, anticipation for another adventure.

But yesterday, a new hero came forward to claim one of those stars.

“From the start, I’ve only ever wanted one thing,” he had said.

It was a bold statement from a bright-eyed young man. Since then, the king had replayed his words over and over in his mind, as though savoring them. 

With each repetition, it felt like a jolt ran through his consciousness, a rush of hot blood coursing through his heart.

This, too, was a rare feeling. Some might call it anger, but the king did not. Even if it were true, he refused to name it as such. Solitude might have been unfamiliar, but anger was an emotion to be avoided entirely.

For a hero, anger was reserved solely for facing villains. Raging blood was meant to be unleashed upon enemies, not upon a benefactor who had saved his daughter.

So, this was something else entirely. Perhaps, it was something he was experiencing for the very first time.

“Alf… Alf… Alf…”

…

“Alf… such a name…”

Confronting this novel sensation, the king muttered Alf’s name repeatedly. It was an old habit of his—repeating names and ideas aloud often sparked sudden inspiration.

Would it work this time? It was an act driven by pure inertia, devoid of certainty. It might just as well have been meaningless stalling.

Thus, the empty audience chamber echoed again and again with the hero’s name. Alf. Alf. Alf. Occasionally, the names of the queen or princess would slip in, alongside fragments of words Alf had spoken.

“Alf… my friend…”

…

“You want me to give up what I have…”

For the first time, a deeply personal thought escaped the king’s lips. He fell silent, staring into space with unfocused eyes.

Then, suddenly, he began to laugh.

“Heh…”

…

“Hahaha…”

…

“Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

What began as a feeble chuckle swelled into a fit of hysterical laughter. He laughed uncontrollably, his body bending forward as he did so.

From behind the throne, he retrieved an object. It was a sword—the very one he had wielded as a hero. 

A relic of the past, it could rightly be called an ancient artifact. For the first time in many years, the king drew it from its sheath.

He had expected the blade to gleam, its sharp edge catching the light. Instead, what emerged was a rusted, ruined piece of metal, long past its prime.

“Ahahaha… this…”

And yet, he didn’t stop laughing. The sound grew louder, enough to reach the ears of the attendants waiting outside the chamber.

The laughter ceased abruptly, replaced by a loud crack, echoing beyond the doors. Several of the more timid attendants burst into tears, unable to suppress their fear.

As the princess and I exited the chamber and made our way down the long corridor, she remained silent. 

The attendants, sensing her mood, timidly suggested an early dinner, but she ignored them.

All the while, her hand gripped my wrist tightly. So tightly, in fact, that my blood circulation began to falter. I finally spoke up.

“Princess.”

“Let’s go to my room. I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

“I’m afraid many have already requested to meet with us.”

“Don’t go. It’ll just be tedious conversations anyway.”

The princess pulled me along as though she could decide everything on her own. It was certainly behavior I could resist, but I understood she lacked the energy for such considerations. Her mind was likely consumed by what had just happened.

But the same could be said for me. Mirian’s parting words to me echoed incessantly in my ears.

Her request that I dance—a dance that would plunge the kingdom into chaos if I truly desired her.

It was the first time Mirian had ever spoken so directly about her feelings. 

Until now, she had only toyed with my emotions. That kiss, however, felt like her first genuine gesture of permission.

That thought alone caused me to stop walking.

“This isn’t right, Princess.”

“…What?”

“This cannot continue.”

Having made my decision, I gently withdrew my hand from hers. The princess looked at me with sorrowful eyes.

“Alf.”

“As I said, there are too many waiting for me. It would be disgraceful of me to ignore them.”

“Who, exactly? Tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Count Brey. Viscount Ernan. Baron Philia. And…”

“And the queen?”

Her icy tone interrupted me. She grabbed my hand again, this time with a forceful grip, and demanded.

“Is that what she whispered to you? That she wants to meet you tonight?”

“No.”

“Then what did she say? Actually, I don’t care. It’s obvious anyway.”

“Princess.”

“She’s trying to manipulate you again, isn’t she? That’s what witches do—deceive and use others, just like she’s always done!”

Her words were ill-suited for the middle of the royal palace. Her voice was far too loud, drawing the attention of those nearby.

“I know the queen just as well as I know you. But you know far too little about witches.”

“Princess, your voice is too loud.”

“I don’t care. Everyone knows it already.”

“Even so, you mustn’t say such things aloud.”

“I…”

She tried to argue but suddenly faltered, as if something caught in her throat. Then, grabbing a passing attendant, she issued a command.

“Bring me a bottle of wine. Right now.”

“W-what? Wine? But—”

“Quickly. Please.”

“Ah… Y-yes, Princess!”

In this place, a request from the princess was equivalent to a command. Knowing this, the attendant hurried off and soon returned with a bottle of wine.

She had the sense to bring something with a low alcohol content, but it made little difference. The princess grabbed the bottle and, before I could stop her, began gulping it down.

“Princess!”

“Ah… Haa…”

I managed to snatch the bottle from her belatedly, but she had already downed more than half of it. 

It was her first time drinking, and her lack of tolerance was evident as her face turned bright red almost instantly.

“Why… Why won’t you listen to me, Alf? That witch is a liar. I’m the only one who truly loves you.”

“My goodness, Princess.”

“I’m the one who loves you… the one who really cares for you…”

“Please, could someone bring a glass of water and a few attendants to assist her?”

“And I was the first to love you…”

The princess’ slurred mumbling, tinged with the scent of wine, filled the air. 

She was already swaying on her feet. I held onto her, keeping her upright, as I spoke.

“Princess, you should rest in your room for the night. The sun is already setting—it’s best to retire early.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m completely sober.”

“I understand. But if His Majesty were to see you like this, he’d surely be displeased. Let me summon the attendants to assist you.”

“No. Don’t go, Alf.”

“Please, just wait a moment.”

Gently, I extricated myself from her grasp and handed her over to the attendants nearby. 

Thankfully, they were skilled and quickly moved to support her, preparing to escort her to her room.

But the princess, unwilling to accept even this brief separation, cried out with all her might.

“Don’t leave me!!!”

“…!”

Her sharp voice echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls like shattering glass. 

The reverberations were deafening, but what followed was even more shocking.

From her arm, thorny vines sprouted and coiled tightly around my wrist.

“Princess…?”

“Ah…”

The vines were weak compared to Mirian’s magic, disintegrating into dust as soon as they made contact. But the sight had already been witnessed by many in the vicinity.

Before their stunned murmurs could spread, I quickly grabbed the princess’ wrist.

“Princess, let’s head to your room.”

“Ah… Alf…”

“Quickly.”

“No… I… I’m not a witch…”

Her disoriented whisper spilled from her lips. Practically carrying her, I hurried toward her room.

“I’m not… I’m not a witch… I’m not…”

Had I forgotten something so obvious? Of course, she was born with the blood of a witch. 

During our travels, she had never displayed such traits, leading me to believe that her lineage had weakened.

Even she seemed shocked, muttering constant denials under her breath. By the time we reached her door, her whispers had not ceased.

“I’m not… a witch… I’m not…”

“It’s okay now. It’s just us.”

“No, it’s not okay at all.”

“Princess.”

“Nothing will be okay until I have you.”

Lifting her head suddenly, the princess cupped my face with both hands. Her gaze, sharp with newfound determination, locked onto mine.

“I won’t let anyone else have you.”

“You’ve had too much to drink, Princess.”

“If the palace won’t allow it, then I’ll give everything up and run away with you.”

“Please, don’t think like that.”

“Then I’ll make it so they have no choice but to let us be together.”

Her trembling hands moved to undo the buttons of her gown, revealing flushed skin radiating heat from the alcohol.

“It’s okay if you take me, Alf.”

“…”

“I’m really okay with it.”

Her words couldn’t have been more explicit. The raw sincerity behind them made them all the more poignant.

The princess had no intention of delaying her feelings. Her resolve solidified into action as she grasped my collar and pushed the door open.

But just then, a voice from inside halted her hand.

“You’ve finally come.”

“E-eh?”

“Princess.”

The familiar, serene voice echoed in my ears. I recognized it immediately. Both the princess and I turned toward the source of the voice.

At the same time, the door closed behind us. The sudden silence amplified the speaker’s words.

“I told you I wouldn’t allow it.”

“…”

“Was that such a difficult thing to understand?”

Leaning casually by the window was a figure, her silver hair softly shimmering against the darkening sky. 

Mirian, with her usual grace, gazed out into the night as if she were the rightful owner of the room.

Despite the setting being the princess’ quarters, Mirian’s natural poise made it seem otherwise. Gathering her composure, the princess finally found her voice.

“Why are you here, Your Majesty the Queen?”

“I thought you’d come here.”

Mirian’s reply was simple as she slid gracefully toward me. She took my hand, pressing a light kiss to the back of it, and whispered softly.

“My man.”