71. Blooming, That Maddening Fragrance.

Klaus felt a surge of irritation at the thought of Johannes experiencing the same scent he had noticed on Antonio.

“Didn’t you just say no one should stay near him during the blooming?” Klaus questioned, his tone sharp and wary.

Sensing Klaus’s guarded stance, Johannes gave a faint, deflating smile and replied.

“It’s different for blood relatives.”

Johannes’s confident statement left Klaus momentarily speechless, his lips pressed into a thin line. Frustration bubbled within him, a reflection of his helplessness—not only could he offer no aid, but he also couldn’t even remain by Antonio’s side.

Johannes, observing Klaus’s turmoil, continued with calm indifference.

“That said, my presence wouldn’t make a difference. I’ll take my leave for now.”

Klaus, who had resembled a subdued lion with his head bowed, brightened visibly at Johannes’s words.

However, Johannes, as if driving the point home, issued a stern warning.

“Don’t forget what I’ve said.”

The reminder that no one should stay near Antonio during the night was clear.

“I’ll trust you.”

Klaus responded, uncertain why Johannes spoke as though entrusting him with this responsibility. With that, Johannes left the estate quietly.

Klaus watched Johannes’s retreating figure in silence before turning back toward Antonio’s door, his expression heavy once again.

* * *

Klaus scanned through the documents before him, but none of the words registered. Frustrated, he shoved the papers aside. His attention was wholly consumed by Antonio’s condition, leaving him unable to concentrate.

The effort to anchor his wandering mind only resulted in a growing headache.

Outside, the setting sun cast a warm orange hue over the landscape. With dusk approaching but not yet fully arrived, Klaus decided to leave his study and head to Antonio’s room.

Through the partially open door, he saw Claucet and the maids attending to Antonio. Antonio, who hadn’t opened his eyes for an entire day, lay motionless, drenched in sweat. From the early hours of dawn when he had fainted until now, he had remained unconscious, forcing Claucet and the maids to constantly wipe his sweat with dry towels.

Klaus stood silently in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Antonio. Sensing his presence, Claucet turned her head toward him.

“As the marquess said, the painkillers don’t seem to be working,” Claucet said, her face clouded with worry.

Klaus approached the bedside cautiously and looked down at Antonio’s face. Following his gaze, Claucet murmured softly, “Antonio… a blood relative of Raphelios? I still can’t believe it.”

Klaus felt the same disbelief.

Yet the scent that emanated from Antonio and his current state were undeniable signs of being a blood relative of Raphelios, just as the Marquess of Euciliod had described.

Stifled by anxiety and uncertainty, Klaus realized he had no choice but to trust the marquess’s words for now.

“But is it really okay to leave him like this?”

In an unusually gentle tone, Klaus spoke to reassure Claucet, whose voice had been laced with anxiety.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

At his quiet words, Claucet seemed to find a measure of trust, exhaling a sigh before turning her gaze back to Antonio.

Strangely, the throbbing headache Klaus had been feeling seemed to subside the moment he stepped into Antonio’s room.

Was it due to Antonio’s scent? Or perhaps the emotions he had been suppressing, trying to avoid this room, had finally settled?

With a somewhat calmer expression, Klaus approached the window bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. He stood there, gazing at the twilight sky in silence. When he turned his head, he saw Claucet curled up by Antonio’s bedside, using her arms as a pillow, fast asleep.

Klaus quietly stepped closer to the bed. His gaze shifted from the sleeping Claucet to Antonio.

Antonio, exhausted from sweating profusely, lay with a drained expression, still deep in slumber. Seeing him in such a state caused Klaus’s fists to clench unconsciously.

It had been a long time since Klaus had felt this powerless.

The last time was after their parents had passed away, leaving him and Claucet to fend for themselves. He had been under twenty then, forced to bear the weight of responsibilities far beyond his years. The helplessness he had endured during that time was now resurfacing after all these years.

Since then, Klaus had worked tirelessly, building his current position with unwavering determination. He had thought he would never feel such vulnerability again.

But now, this powerless sense of being unable to protect someone precious—that was what unsettled Klaus the most.

His expression twisted with pain as he looked at Antonio.

“If only I could take his place and bear the pain instead,” he muttered.

Damn bloodlines and all that nonsense. If only Antonio were just an ordinary servant of the ducal household. Someone Klaus could keep under his protection, within his reach, and always in his sight.

“Hah…”

Letting out a deep sigh at the hysterical direction of his thoughts, Klaus gently lifted the sleeping Claucet into his arms.

Now that he thought about it, it had been a long time since he’d held her like this. Perhaps the last time was ten years ago, when she was about six years old. She had been so small and light back then that it barely felt like he was holding her. Even now, she felt as light as a feather.

For years, he had used his busyness as an excuse to neglect paying attention to Claucet. But perhaps, in a way, it was thanks to Antonio and Roselia that he had recently started focusing on her again.

Holding Claucet in his arms, Klaus cast another lingering look at Antonio. The realization struck him that Antonio had become an inseparable part of their lives.

* * *

That night, Klaus remained in his study until late, restlessly glaring at the walls, unable to focus.

Antonio’s room wasn’t far from the study, so he could easily check on his condition if he wanted to. But Johannes’s warning not to let anyone into Antonio’s room during the night echoed in his mind, forcing Klaus to sigh and endure.

Then, a familiar sound reached his ears.

It wasn’t a voice, exactly, but the strained groans of Antonio, clearly in pain.

Klaus sprang to his feet instinctively, only to freeze as Johannes’s warning came rushing back to him.

But as Antonio’s agonized cries grew louder, as if he were screaming in torment, Klaus couldn’t hold back anymore. He dashed out of the study, stopping just outside Antonio’s door. Clenching his teeth, Klaus hesitated one last time before cautiously calling out.

“Antonio, are you all right?”

“Haah… haaah… ugh…!”

Antonio’s pained groans from inside the room were unlike anything Klaus had ever heard before. Unable to resist, Klaus threw the door open.

Inside the dark room, Antonio was curled up on the bed, writhing in pain.

“Antonio!”

Klaus rushed to the bedside, where she lay hunched over like a shrimp, clutching her chest. It wasn’t Antonio—it was Roselia.

Her trembling body soaked in sweat, Roselia’s vacant gaze was unfocused, staring into the void as she battled the overwhelming pain.

Amidst her agony, a voice echoed in her mind.

“Listen carefully. When your chest feels like it’s burning, don’t hold it in.”

Another wave of pain wracked her body, and Roselia clutched her chest tighter, letting out a low cry of anguish.

Seeing her like this, Klaus’s face twisted with frustration and desperation. He pulled her small, trembling shoulders into his arms.

“Damn it, what do I do? Antonio, tell me what to do,” Klaus muttered through gritted teeth, his voice filled with helplessness.

As if in response to Klaus’s plea, the voice in Roselia’s mind returned, echoing once more.

“Don’t try to hold it in. Let it all out.”

“Haaah… haa…” Roselia gasped through her labored breaths, the words Johannes had left with her spinning endlessly in her mind.

Meanwhile, Klaus lowered his head against her shoulder, his voice raw with emotion. “If it hurts, bite me—do whatever you need to do. Just… don’t hold back.”

“Don’t be afraid. Let everything go,” the voice whispered, blending with Klaus’s words.

Driven by survival instincts, Roselia pushed against Klaus’s chest with sudden force, sending him sprawling onto the bed. Klaus looked up at her in shock, his eyes wide.

Roselia, who had shoved him down, now straddled him, her cloudy gaze fixed on him.

“Antonio…?” Klaus murmured uncertainly, his voice shaky.

Roselia’s erratic breaths grew heavier as she looked down at him. At the same time, an intoxicating scent began to emanate from her, so overwhelming that Klaus felt his senses blur.

The tingling sensation that coursed through him was electric, rendering him breathless. His jaw clenched as he stared up at her, sweat-soaked and trembling above him. Her loose shirt clung to her damp body, emphasizing delicate curves that momentarily puzzled him.

Before he could process, her small hand reached out, resting against his chest. Klaus tensed at the sensation, the hypersensitivity brought on by her scent making even the slightest touch nearly unbearable.

“Antonio…!” he groaned through gritted teeth, his voice strained.

Roselia’s hand explored his chest hesitantly, and Klaus’s breathing became uneven, his chest heaving under her touch. He tried to resist, staring up at the ceiling, but his resolve crumbled when he glanced down at her trembling form.

The neckline of Roselia’s loose shirt slipped lower, revealing the soft curve of her chest. Klaus froze, his thoughts scattering.

What is this…?

Before he could make sense of it, Roselia’s hot breath brushed against his face, and then her lips pressed against his.

The softness of her lips and the intoxicating sweetness of her scent overwhelmed him, leaving him unable to think.

Her clumsy movements were shy but persistent as she pushed deeper into the kiss. Klaus, his mind blank, instinctively grasped her slim waist as though it were his lifeline, opening his mouth to meet her tentative advances.

Their breaths tangled, and sweat dripped down both their bodies. Even in his haze, Klaus clung to a sliver of reason, knowing that Roselia was not in her right mind. He fought with everything he had to hold himself back.

But her soft lips, fervent and insistent, nipped at his composure, like a baby bird hungrily pecking at its food.

That fragile thread of restraint trembled, teetering on the brink of snapping.

When her hand slipped under his half-open shirt, brushing against his sensitive skin, the last shred of his reason finally gave way.

 

 

TL/N: Everyone before this chapter:

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