15+ Content
Sitting in the chair in front of his desk, Kalus wore a lingering smile because of the morning’s teasing.
‘She still didn’t fully open herself to me,’ he thought.
It would’ve been perfect if she had surrendered her body to him as she had the night before, masking her pain with pleasure, But today, she endured it all, biting her lip until it bled. He knew she was that kind of person, but having tasted her once, the longing was unbearable. Still, the opportunity would come again. In the end, she wouldn’t be able to refuse his offer.
The memory of Tilda’s tearful desperation, her pained expression, her labored breathing, and the scent of dried grass that clung to her had stayed vividly in his mind. Without realizing it, Kalus slowly licked his lips. He hadn’t eaten anything since the day before yesterday, distracted by other matters, but the satisfaction he’d drawn from her left him feeling as though he didn’t need food.
Of course, that didn’t change the fact that his insatiable desire still burned, ready to take her whenever.
As he thought of her tight, heated body, Kalus felt a slow surge of blood below. This was going to be a problem. Now that he had tasted such sweetness, his dormant urges raged like a wild horse that had broken free.
‘If you take a bite of the forbidden fruit, you’ve got to take responsibility,’ he thought.
Suddenly, he remembered when he had first met Tilda Valinea. It was on the first day of theology class. She had been the center of attention. At fifteen, she was as pure and beautiful as an angel descended from the heavens. Her expressionless face made her seem even more unreal.
‘The priests are going to have a hard time,’ Kalus had thought when he first saw her. Most of the boys at the seminary were going through puberty, struggling to maintain their vows of purity while watching a beautiful girl like her from afar.
But, surprisingly, instead of being the object of admiration, Tilda was the subject of negative rumors.
“Isn’t she the Pope’s granddaughter?”
“Yeah, and she’s his heir too. Her mother, Celestia, was supposed to be the successor, but she passed away.”
“Oh… because of that incident?”
It wasn’t until much later that Kalus learned what that incident was—the one that had caused her mother’s death.
He couldn’t understand.
“It wasn’t like she killed her on purpose.”
It had been a clear accident. How could a ten-year-old child have known that the fruit would cause divine power to go berserk? Kalus couldn’t comprehend the harsh looks that followed Tilda.
“She’s not on good terms with His Holiness either. There are rumors he’s trying to replace her as heir.”
“Well, it’s no surprise. I hear she can’t even use divine power anymore.”
“She’s just a broken vessel now.”
Even with all those labels and whispers, Tilda seemed unfazed, as if none of it concerned her. She always maintained the same expression and sat quietly through theology lessons, studying until late into the night, just like the other priests. Watching her, Kalus had once speculated that she might be ambitious, aiming for the position of heir. But the truth was, she simply dedicated herself to studying theology. If she had any ambition for power, she would have hovered near the Papal Palace, not the temple.
Kalus began to observe her every day and soon realized that he was watching her without even thinking about it. Back then, he’d dismissed it as mere curiosity. The seminary and temple were dull places, filled with boring things, so naturally, he’d find the one interesting thing there—an expressionless girl caught in a whirlwind of attention.
Yet, over time, his curiosity grew. He began to wonder: What would it look like if that cold, unfeeling girl showed a pained expression? Even just that thought sent a strange heat surging through his abdomen.
That night, he dreamed of the pale girl. She looked the same as ever, but something was different. Her normally cold eyes shimmered with seduction, and her tightly sealed red lips curved into a tantalizing smile. That night, Kalus experienced his first wet dream, waking to find his pants soaked in a way that left him feeling utterly embarrassed for the first time.
After that, Kalus could no longer simply observe Tilda Valinea. His gaze had shifted to something more… inquisitive. Why did he lust after that rigid girl? They’d never exchanged more than a passing glance. They had never spoken.
Kalus wanted to figure out why he was so drawn to her. But no matter how much he lingered around her or tried to engage her in conversation, all he got in return was indifference and short replies.
His frustration turned to determination.
“Your interpretation of the sacred relic today was wrong,” he said one day, provoking her. For the first time, there was a clear emotion in her eyes.
“Then what’s the correct answer in your opinion?”
That day, Kalus got caught up in a long discussion about relics, something he couldn’t care less about. He wasn’t knowledgeable enough to argue with Tilda, and in the end, she was right. But he didn’t mind. He’d achieved his goal.
‘This is it,’ Kalus thought. He had figured out how to get Tilda Valinea’s attention.
Yet, over time, she learned how to deal with him too, and their conversations became nothing more than brief exchanges. Kalus didn’t mind their evolving relationship, except for one thing.
Even after becoming an archbishop and graduating from seminary as an adult, his interest in her only grew stronger.
Looking at her made him thirsty, with a craving that nothing could satisfy. It was a craving that couldn’t be quenched by anything. Probably, it was a thirst that could only be satisfied by the liquids from her mouth or her most private parts.
A desire he could never fulfill triggered strange fantasies. What would it taste like to sink his teeth into that pale neck? And that tongue, which always spoke so perfectly—what about that?
Ah, this was torture.
Whenever such thoughts crossed his mind, the heat surged in his lower body until it felt like his pants would burst.
What intrigued him most was imagining what those calm, lake-like eyes would look like once clouded over.
Those eyes, unwavering under any circumstances, seeking truth and understanding the world’s laws—those eyes were her very essence.
The fools who dismissed her, saying she was so cold she could freeze you with just a look, clearly didn’t understand her true worth.
Kalus unconsciously licked his lips.
What would it taste like to hold those blue eyes in his mouth, rolling them on his tongue?
But one day, such fantasies of Kalus were abruptly shattered by some news.
“Did you hear, Tilda Valinea is going to marry Windson Nockilla?”
“The Count of Nockilla? Not bad. It’s not an old family, but he’s the richest man in the empire right now. And good-looking, too.”
It felt like ice-cold water had been thrown over him.
The fire that had been raging inside him, that had kept on burning endlessly, was extinguished without even leaving a single spark.
At that moment, Kalus became acutely aware of his own status. As an archbishop bearing the mission to represent his race, he had to achieve his goals, no matter what.
So, he forced himself to look away.
Life became dull, without excitement, but that allowed him to move forward.
Then one day, rumors started that Tilda Valinea might be getting a divorce.
Kalus raised an eyebrow.
“That woman… Aclea Belmont. She’s not an ordinary person.”
In the end, Kalus ordered his informants to keep an eye on Aclea Belmont.
Thanks to that, he was able to save Tilda Valinea just in time.
“It wasn’t without cost, though.”
He already felt a headache coming on, anticipating the scolding he was about to receive.
Knock, knock!
Nobles really aren’t my thing, Kalles thought.
At the irritated knock, Kalus propped his chin on his hand and called out, “Come in.”
His lieutenant, Lizard, strode in and stood before the desk.
“You finally brought Tilda Valinea?”
“If I hadn’t, she’d be dead by now.”
Lizard buried his face in his hands in despair.
“Now we’re dead! Do you think the Pope is going to sit back and let his granddaughter be under the care of a Turine archbishop?”
Kalus responded nonchalantly, “I handled it appropriately.”
Lizard snapped his head up, shouting, “Handled it? We’re lucky they didn’t draw swords the moment they saw your black hair!”
Kalus didn’t mention that Tilda had attempted something similar with a candlestick.
“And healing someone on the verge of death couldn’t have been easy.”
“I overexerted myself a little.”
“How much?”
“About… five years?”
Lizard looked like he might faint.
If Kalus had been any smaller or less powerful, Lizard would’ve grabbed him by the collar and shaken him by now.
“Don’t get too stressed. If she helps us, it’s like a direct pass to the goddess Valinea herself.”
“She’s going to help us?”
“She probably will.”
That didn’t sound very reassuring.
Lizard realized he couldn’t leave things as they were.
“I’ll go talk to her right now.”
Just as he was about to take a step, Kalus spoke in a low, icy tone, “Stop.”
The words were so chilling that Lizard froze in his tracks.
Sure enough, Kalus’ red eyes were glowing intensely.
“Don’t go near her without my permission.”
