Chapter 91

Dezeb said it as he removed his jacket and waistcoat, draped them over a chair, and sprawled across the bed. That was a relief, since any more really might have destroyed her back.

"When is your stamina ever going to improve?"

Erabelle obediently came to lie beside him, and he squished her cheeks together like a fish.

"When are you finally going to score eighty?"

"I still believe the machine must be broken."

"I told you, there's no way."

He propped his head on the back of his hand and grumbled.

"Were you too uncomfortable to eat today?"

"Yes. The dress was a little tight...."

"...."

Dezeb rolled his eyes, then burst out laughing again for some reason. What on earth did he find so funny? His threshold for laughter was far lower than his appearance suggested. After laughing for quite some time, he lowered himself onto his arm and gazed at her tenderly.

"What do you think of the marquisate?"

"Ah, I think it's beautiful."

Flustered, Erabelle blurted out the words without thinking. Fortunately, he did not take issue with the ambiguous subject.

"I'm glad."

Trying not to become too distracted by his beautiful face, Erabelle paused to choose her words.

"About yesterday...."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for yesterday. For saving Count Vermilion."

His brows rose at her cautious words.

"Everything was so hectic that I didn't get the chance to say it sooner...."

Erabelle trailed off. Dezeb was looking at her with what seemed like pity. It was an expression she had grown somewhat familiar with. It was exactly....

"Am I digging my own grave again?"

"I think it's become a habit by now."

He caught her narrow shoulders and pushed her down, then sucked on her closed lips. Erabelle swallowed a breath at the sudden turn. Looming over her, he extended his tongue and slowly licked across her swollen lips.

"...Open."

He lapped at them, then nibbled at her stubbornly closed lips. When the delicate lips obediently parted, he swept through her mouth, sucking and biting her soft tongue before tilting his head to bite at the shell of her ear and the nape of her neck.

"De-Dezeb...!"

His hips were already grinding heavily against her pajama-clad sex like a piston.

"I-I scored seventy-nine...!"

Her strained cry brought his hips to an abrupt halt.

With a groan, he collapsed limply over her.

Pinned beneath his heavy weight, Erabelle whimpered again.

"...When are you ever going to score eighty?"

Dezeb groaned and rolled onto his back. After staring resentfully at Erabelle's flushed face, he said that if they were not going to have sex, they might as well plan a sightseeing itinerary.

"A-a sightseeing itinerary?"

All of a sudden?

"Unless you'd prefer to spend all day in bed tomorrow."

"I'll get the pad."

Apparently dissatisfied with her answer, Dezeb grumbled again before continuing.

"It'll take several days to repair the vessel. Clearing away the residual smog is a considerable job too. While we wait, we might as well take Count Vermilion sightseeing. We're about to become family, so I may as well earn some favor with him."

He brought up information on the planetary system and pointed out several possible destinations on the pad's screen.

"What about this one? NE44. It's still a young star, so apparently you can observe a primordial ecosystem there. Or SW1120 might be good. Supernova tours are only available when the timing is right."

The scale of its tourism was in an entirely different world from that of Count Vermilion's domain, which consisted of only three planets.

"I think this place would be fine—"

"Don't just choose somewhere nearby at random."

Before the food Dezeb had ordered could even arrive, Erabelle began nodding off.

She had fought hard to stay awake, but with her wretched stamina, far too much had happened over the past two days. And she was comfortable.

Being beside him had become so familiar that, at this point, it was difficult even to pretend she felt uncomfortable.

Erabelle nestled against Dezeb's side. Feeling his hand stroke the small of her back, she gradually sank into a deep sleep.

"...N... N29, E31...."

It was during the New Year Festival.

Counting the seconds, Erabelle slipped out of the Imperial Palace banquet hall and hid in a servant's room.

In the darkness of someone else's room, she struggled out of her dress and tossed it aside, squeezed herself into a short-hemmed athletic uniform, and forced her feet into a pair of student sneakers. Then she hurriedly climbed through the window and nearly twisted her ankle....

"......?"

The ground she had fallen onto was soft.

"...Cushions?"

White rabbit cushions of every size had been piled into a mountain. Erabelle floundered her way out of the heap and hesitated. They looked as though they had been discarded. If she collected and sold them, she could probably cover about two days' living expenses....

No. This was not the time.

A rift connected to Earth had appeared for the first time in eight years. Erabelle came to her senses and started running.

"5, 512...."

Her breath rose painfully into her throat.

The Imperial Palace gardens were a restricted area closed to the public.

She ran while checking the coordinates on her handheld screen, then suddenly flinched. Something over there was glittering in the moonlight. That....

"Romantic 1 First-Press Limited Edition!"

It came with a complete twelve-card photocard set and no fewer than three postcards! Even the pose was different from the standard edition! James was standing in the standard edition, but in the limited edition, he was lying down! There was no resisting James lying down!

She dashed over and picked it up.

Then, farther ahead... was a personally autographed copy!

Beyond that lay the scarf he had worn at the premiere, followed by the sunglasses he had worn at a signing event! By the time she had finished frantically collecting everything as she ran, she found someone standing before her.

"I already knew, but seeing it again is seriously pissing me off, Erabelle."

He was a beautiful man.

"Someday, I'm going to sell every last one of those. Or burn them all."

"Why—why are you here...?"

Dezeb Avganis.

The protagonist of this novel's world. A psychopath who killed people as casually as breathing. The man wearing those rabbit ears was unmistakably... Rabbit ears? They were far too adorable and fluffy to ignore.

"Sit."

He glanced toward a dining table.

In the middle of the moonlit forest stood a table covered with a white cloth. It was laden with food. Smoked sausages, fried chicken, frozen pizza, lasagna, and an entire set of beer.

"...."

A strange compulsion seized her—the feeling that if she did not eat now, she might never have another chance.

"I said, sit."

As though a command had been entered into her, Erabelle sat down and began gathering food to eat.

"I don't know why it had to be a rabbit."

Exactly.

The man seated across from her complained as he crossed his long legs elegantly.

"I understand choosing something that won't provoke resistance. But couldn't you have stopped at making me a guest?"

He hooked a pocket watch over one finger and swung it back and forth as he spoke.

Perhaps that was why her mind began to grow hazy.

"Um, excuse me, but may I ask who you are...?"

She pretended not to know him. With a look that said she was an atrocious liar, he answered.

"I'm a research employee."

The future Marquis?

"Just fill out the questionnaire."

Only then did she notice the thick stack of papers nestled among the smoked sausages.

"...All of this...?"

"Yes. Take your time and complete every page."

He spoke while leisurely examining his pocket watch, but these were not questions anyone could answer leisurely.

"Which sexual position do you prefer, missionary or from behind? Which do you prefer, cunnilingus or penetration? How many hours do you consider an appropriate duration for sex...?"

The unit appeared to be wrong. Shouldn't that be minutes rather than hours...?

Erabelle stared blankly at the questions until the man's eyes curved as they settled on her. She ducked her head. There was something suggestive about his gaze. Merely meeting it made something inside her lurch strangely, and that frightened her.

But with a face like his, it was understandable.

Every natural beauty in this world seemed to be a killing machine, but he stood at the very pinnacle even among them. As long as she possessed normal eyesight, there was simply no helping it.

Grateful to have something else to focus on, Erabelle diligently completed the questionnaire.

The man took it from her and graded it.

"Seventy-nine."

Why?

"If you could give me just one more point...."

"Try harder. One hour is an appropriate duration for sex? Are you trying to torment someone to death? And if you prefer penetration, does that mean you don't like it when I go down on you?"

So there had been predetermined answers!

Then what was the point of the survey...?

"Finish the rest too. You only need to sign that one."

She had thought she was done, but just as he said, one page remained. Startled, she hurriedly signed where he indicated—only to discover that it was a prenuptial agreement.

"It's a provisional contract. It still has legal force, of course. It means that, legally, I'm now your fiancé."

What if I want to take it back...?

"Do you think you can?"

Had she said that aloud?

"We can review the formal agreement once the heads of our houses have finished settling the details. Count Vermilion must be worried about you. There are quite a few terms he keeps refusing to accept."

For some reason, she felt vaguely deflated.

A river breeze softly stirred the leaves. The tablecloth rippled slowly with it, while grass rustled beneath them. Across from her sat a beautiful man, leisurely leafing through the paper questionnaire....

A dazzlingly beautiful man who was complaining that he was not some impotent bastard and one hour was far too short.

She felt strange.

"Time to get up. We're taking Count Vermilion to the Ventwood groves. We're leaving as soon as we've eaten breakfast, so don't dawdle."

He approached and lightly kissed her as he spoke.

"If you keep me waiting, I'll assume you're trying to seduce me and let myself be seduced."

Her body trembled. Seized by an inexplicable sense of danger, she sprang to her feet, only for her vision to dissolve into white.

Erabelle blinked and focused on the tiny, doll-like figure that came into view.

Golden hair unique to the Imperial Family, delicate features... Even from that distance, she recognized him immediately.

It was Prince Ananasa.