CH 18

“There’s something I have to say.”

“Come in.”

With Aren’s consent, the door slowly opened.

Cassadin stood at the door wearing a navy robe. Past his loosely tied waistband, the robe was left slightly agape to expose his toned chest.

It felt as though the traces of his long days as a gladiator were embedded deep in him. His clothes’ silhouette dropped perfectly against his broad shoulders, as if they had been tailored just for him.

“May I approach you, Sister?”

In response, Aren sat up and nodded. In the reflection of the moonlight, he could see her faint smile. She meant to give her consent.

Cassadin approached where Aren was seated on the bed. Unlike before, his every movement towards Aren’s bedside was incredibly careful.

“What did you have to say to me?”

“…I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. And…”

“?”

“I wanted to hear your voice, Sister.”

Cassadin continued to speak and sat down next to Aren. Perched on the edge of the bed, his robe opened up a little more. Aren’s gaze shifted to his loosened robe.

“Cassadin, you have to wear your robe properly.”

Her voice was affectionate, as if scolding a child.

“How?”

Cassadin cocked his head with an innocent expression. His expression contradicted his exceptionally masculine appearance.

“Come closer.”

When Cassadin moved a little closer, Aren fixed up his loose clothing.

While Aren was adjusting Cassadin’s clothes, he stared intently at his sister’s face. His fine platinum hair was now longer than when he first met her, and those large eyes were clearer than a cloudless sky.

“You’re beautiful, Sister.”

Aren just smiled without any further response.

“My eyes are blinded every time I look at you. It was like that on the first day we met as well.”

Cassadin gently enveloped Aren’s hand in his. His large hand trapped hers in its grasp. Bringing it up to his lips, he softly placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

After kissing Aren’s hand, Cassadin began tracing her fingertips, as if checking for something. His touches felt far too sensual to be considered the way he was fondling his sister’s fingertips.

“I want to know more about you, Sister.”

Cassadin’s deep purple eyes glowed in the reflection of the moonlight. He slowly blinked, then looked back at Aren with an affectionate stare as he raised a lock of her platinum blonde hair to his lips.

For some reason, he was doing things to his own sister that one would only expect to come from a lover. Yet, Aren just continued to smile at Cassadin.

“Sister, my body has been feeling feverish since some time ago.”

“…”

“I hope there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Her eyes widened, and Aren asked him in a worried tone.

“Where exactly does it hurt?”

As if he had been waiting for that response, Cassadin pulled Aren’s small hand to his sculpted chest.

“Here.”

Cassadin slipped Aren’s hand deep inside his robe. Her palm met his smooth skin underneath the fabric.

“It seems like the fever is getting worse.”

“…”

“Why is my body doing this, Sister?”

His deep voice rang out quietly. Then only silence filled the room.

“Sister, your hands are so soft. They’re warm and soft. It calms me when I touch it.”

Cassadin caressed Aren’s petite hand as he said so. He then pulled her hand closer to him so that it was completely in his grasp.

Now, in what felt close to an embrace, his chest was less than an inch away from Aren’s face. His toned, powerful upper body seemed on the brink of bursting, flowing with intense masculinity.

“…”

What felt like a savory gaze slowly traced over Aren’s body.

Suddenly, Aren, who had been quietly observing him, started to untie the navy robe he was wearing.

Cassadin smirked, looking down at Aren, who was hastily removing his robe. She was just another mediocre human being who fell for his deliberate temptation.

“My goodness. It’s no wonder I felt such a large scar.”

However, the words that came out of Aren were not ones of desire, but those of a kind and compassionate sister.

“It must have been so painful, Cassadin. I didn’t know you had such scars with your clothes covering them.”

Aren completely untied Cassadin’s robe and scanned every little inch of his body. And Cassadin realized at that moment that his eyes were not those of a woman who fell for his seduction.

At the unexpected turn of events, the corners of Cassadin’s lips that had been curled up straightened back down.

“These… They’re wounds from swords and axes.”

Aren brushed her hand over Cassadin’s wounds.

“And this is a wound that’s created when a sharp iron skewer burns a hole into the flesh for a prolonged period of time.”

Aren’s rosy lips clenched firmly together.

“Even if you were a gladiator, these were created deliberately. They couldn’t have been made from normal fights.”

She didn’t seem to care about his broad shoulders or muscular body. She just had her eyes fixed on the marks etched onto his skin.

“Have you been tortured?”

“…”

“Tell me.”

As she looked at the deep, diagonal scars carved onto Cassadin, it was Aren who seemed hurt instead.

“…Yes.”

It was impossible to live as a slave without scars, especially as a gladiator slave.

Nobody he’d met in the past cared about it. Those who had approached Cassadin until now were only attracted to his beautiful appearance and body and were only focused on the expression of their own disgusting desires.

Regardless of whether he was severely tortured or was wounded and bleeding from swords and spears.

His strong body and attractive appearance were his only worth and value, after all.

“I’m sorry, Cassadin. It must have been so painful.”

As Aren said that, she gently grazed over the deep sword wound on Cassadin’s body.

Cassadin was confused by the tender words and touches that treated him not as a man, but as a real younger brother.

Cassadin had intended to deliberately seduce Aren in revenge for causing him confusion. But not even a tiny bit of it worked on Aren.

“Wait just a moment, Cassadin.”

Saying so, Aren covered Cassadin’s eyes with her palms.

With his vision suddenly taken away, Cassadin suspected Aren was going to punish him for pinning her wrists.

“All done. You can open your eyes now.”

In response, Cassadin opened his eyes to a shocking sight. The deep scars of the diagonal slashes were gone as if they had never been there. That was the same for the burn scars embedded into his skin with iron skewers.

Witnessing something that he couldn’t believe even as he saw it, Cassadin’s eyes widened.

“What, how did…”

“Are you surprised? I just applied the ointment that I mentioned last time.”

Aren smiled tenderly at Cassadin as she responded.

“I would have healed these scars when we first met had I known this would happen.”

Then Aren pulled back the robe Cassadin had been wearing. Cassadin looked down at the woman tying up his robe with an indescribable expression.

It was strange. Things have been going in a completely different direction from what he had intended.

He had no idea what to do next from here on. His head ached.

“Sister.”

“I know how hard it must have been, not being able to tell anyone all this time. Cassadin, please forgive me.”

Aren must have been tired as she slowly closed her eyes after stroking Cassadin’s silver hair a few times.

“My beloved younger brother, don’t worry about a thing, and get a good night’s sleep.”

Aren continued to speak to him in a sleepy voice. Watching Aren smile at him with crescent-shaped eyes despite looking incredibly tired, Cassadin realized that he had fallen into her trap.

Cassadin, who had thought he would be able to lie next to her comfortably as usual, was not able to do so.

He just dazedly stared at his sister next to him, who had fallen asleep without a care in the world.

Her silky platinum hair was shining even in the darkness under the bright moonlight. Not to mention her frail, slender ankles that he could hold with a single hand, and her pure white skin.

‘It’s okay.’

He remembered that with just her one word, the frozen walls of his shut heart melted down just like that.

‘It’s okay, Cassadin.’

The term ‘saint’ could undoubtedly be used to refer to this woman. To think that she could worry about the one who is harming her, even when her own life is in danger.

No matter what he did, the woman never got angry. He was the one who caused the problems, but it was always she who apologized.

Even when he was blatantly lying, the woman never once blamed him. She only comforted him as if she understood, and tended to his wounds.

Cassadin ran his hands over the parts of his body where the woman had touched him. The engravings of pain that had been there disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place.

He felt strange. He should have been happy that those unsightly scars had disappeared. But for some reason, it felt suffocating instead, as if a heavy rock was weighing down his heart.

It was like something he didn’t want was strangling his heart. But Cassadin couldn’t precisely pinpoint what that meant.

Sometimes, the woman had the expression of a monk who had reached enlightenment. That was neither a face drowned in sorrow nor one lost in thought. It was the expression of someone who had renounced many things.

The woman possessed so much but acted as though there was nothing for her to lose. Even if that was her own life.

At times when she emitted a mysterious yet precarious aura, he had the odd belief that she was somehow similar to him.

He spent quite a bit of time staring down at the woman sleeping soundly next to him. The more he looked at her, the more he felt selfish pride simmer up from the deep abyss of his heart.

He had seen and met countless people before. Men, women, old, and young. They all undid his clothes and desired his body, even when he did nothing.

To a slave, beauty was poison. Pearls emerging from the mud were bound to stand out. All of the people desired him as if they were enchanted.

Cassadin’s status as a slave held him back even when he didn’t want it. From his respectable position as the Crown Prince, he was dragged down to the bottom of the pit in the blink of an eye.

But there had been no time for him to despair. He gritted his teeth and did everything to hide his identity. He extended this disgusting life by pleasuring disgusting people.

And so when the short time of the night passed, everyone would be out cold, no matter who they were. Even those who boasted about their stamina eventually admitted their defeat.

His sister was also asleep next to him.

But she was different.

Seeing his sister’s face in a peaceful state like that of a child, Cassadin felt a spark of spite light up in him. He didn’t like how his sister was sleeping so casually without placing even a single finger of desire on him.

The way this woman didn’t ask any questions, even though she knew his identity, and told him to use her instead, was suspicious from every perspective.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to wake the sleeping angel.

What exactly was he hesitating about? Why didn’t he do anything when Aren had wrapped her arms around him in the carriage? Why did he feel at ease with her usual affectionate voice and kind attitude?

He couldn’t understand anything. His head hurt from the confused flurry of emotions.

Cassadin took a deep breath and got up from the bed.

He had felt a strange sense of defeat from the woman named Aren, who was much smaller and weaker than him.

“Miss! You have to wake up at once!”

Hearing Sasha’s unusually persistent voice, my eyes fluttered open automatically.

“What’s the matter?”

“His Highness, the Crown Prince, has visited the mansion.”

“What? Why would he?”

My drowsy mind jumped back into action the moment I heard Sasha’s message. The sleepiness that had been consuming my body just a moment ago also ran away.

‘Did Cassadin’s assassination attempt get exposed?’

I tried to suppress the uneasiness rising up in my heart as I waited for Sasha’s answer.