“Ah…I don’t think you belong to this world. You are more beautiful than any God.” Flavia worshipped him.

“Don’t stare at me, it’s annoying. Quickly give me the cloth.”

Flavia tried to wipe Luciano’s body, but he instead draped the cloth she had, then wiped off his hair. Meanwhile, the woman loosened the laces of his boots.

“Hey, aren’t you going to take off your undergarments? I want to warm up quickly.” It didn’t need to be said, how strong the woman’s libido was. But her only desire was Luciano. Her love for him could tragically be considered an obsession.

“If you want to copulate like animals, go outside. Don’t let me repeat myself. Your match is a bandit.” Luciano maintained his cold front. The foul language that came out of his mouth, unfitting to be heard by a noblewoman.

“No. Hey Luciano, I married the Marquis of Longolia for you two years ago. A forty-year-old man. I don’t want to see his face, but I’m embraced by that vulgar man every day. Not only man, I’ve met various Armenian men for you, to provide you with intel.”

He clicked his tongue. His body was dull and chills were running down his spine. He thought it was a precursor to a fever.

“Your information was generally garbage. If you want to sell your favours, I’ll let you know they’re useless and incompetent.”

“Even if my information wasn’t of help, I’ve given my life to work for you. So it’s alright to fulfill some of my wishes isn’t it?” The woman took Luciano’s boots off him and looked up at him imploringly. “Make an eternal oath with me. Seal it with a kiss.”

“If you do that, I’ll kill you. I’d never let you take me prisoner.”

In the now dead Serrat, kissing held important meaning. It was an oath, one which inextricably bound the participants soul, even when life ended. It was said to cement one’s future. Therefore, amongst the royal aristocrats whose marriages were commonly political, absent with love, a kiss on the lips was a loathsome tie. It was an enduring curse that followed into the future. In the face of his cold front, Flavia’s expression crumpled.

“I’ve been dreaming for a long time…been long longing for it. I want to be us to be like Isamel and Queen Carmelita,” she said softly.

Ismael and Carmelita were the names of Luciano’s deceased parents. The two were hung alive on the walls of the Serrat’s capital when the country had been destroyed by Teges, along with his sister Mileia. The images of their dying and decaying appearances repeatedly haunted Luciano’s mind. It was beyond unbearable. Luciano, was the last survivor of the royal family of Serrat.

“It’s still fairly bright. Get lost.”

Luciano felt the temperature rise in him. Perhaps he had spent too long in the rain, or the woman beside him made him nauseous to the point of sickness.

“That’s…No. I want to be with you. Please, let me be by your side…”

Kneeling over his knees, Flavia clung to his body, muttering words of love in a fever of heat. Luciano did not move. Instead, a hot tongue crawled over his skin, followed by a sting as it sucked sharply and made a mark. He didn’t stop it. On the contrary, his head throbbed in an exceedingly painful rhythm.

Sh*t. I’m going to vomit.

Sweat dripped from his chin. The chronic headaches that occurred since the death of his homeland had become increasingly worse. Today was especially exceedingly insufferable. Being pounded by the rain for an extended period of time during his killing spree, did not help. In fact it had made it worse; his consciousness slowly blending in with his dreams. He didn’t resist when the woman groped between his legs and sucked on him with her red venomous mouth. Strangely, underneath his garments his muscles felt relaxed.

“Brother, promise you’ll keep it a secret? I have someone I like.”

He could hear it now. That chattery, sweet voice which belonged to Mileia. She had been his one and only younger sister. Died at the age of twelve, two years ago.