"Are you really sulking now?" Lian's mocking voice cut through the air as if he'd heard her quiet sniffles.
"N-No, I'm not..." Celia whispered in protest.
She quickly wiped her face and carefully picked up the wooden cup, returning to where Lian lounged lazily in his chair. With trembling hands, she offered him the water.
"Here, Lord Lian."
He glanced at her before taking the cup and downing its contents in one gulp.
Thud.
The empty cup hit the table with unnecessary force, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"That damn crystal sphere actually absorbs moisture from the body. So this is the power of natural magic? Interesting."
Celia had no idea what he was muttering about—her mind was too preoccupied with dread.
After all, he had said it himself—once he finished drinking, they would...
"Celia." His voice snapped her back to reality.
"Y-Yes?"
Her legs instinctively pressed together, her breath hitching as she avoided his razor-sharp gaze, bracing herself for whatever came next.
But instead of moving, Lian simply sat there in silence.
The quiet stretched on, leaving Celia's thoughts to spiral.
Then, with a sigh, Lian suddenly stood.
Before she could react, an arm hooked around her waist—
—and the next thing she knew, she was flung over his shoulder like a sack of grain, one of his hands gripping her thigh to keep her steady.
Celia yelped in surprise, the hard planes of his muscles pressing uncomfortably against her stomach.
With each of his steps, her vision swayed, the room tilting as he carried her away.
"L-Lord Lian! Where are you taking me? P-Put me down, I can walk on my own—!"
Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
"I refuse. You're too slow, and I don't have the patience to wait."
His grip tightened as he adjusted her weight.
"Don't flatter yourself.You're not even my type—too short, too dull, barely worth the effort. So stop squirming."
The insults rolled off his tongue effortlessly, laced with open disdain.
Within moments, he shouldered open a door and carried her inside, ignoring her feeble struggles.
The door slammed shut.
The curtains were drawn.
Celia yelped again as she was unceremoniously dropped onto the bed, the impact sending a jolt through her. The sudden emptiness between her legs—no longer what it once was—was a constant, unwelcome reminder of her new reality.
The plush mattress beneath her and the sound of Lian moving around the room made her heart pound so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Then came the rustle of fabric.
Thump.
His coat landed beside her, the displaced air brushing against her flushed cheeks.
It wasn't cold.
Yet she shivered.
She turned her face away from the discarded garment.
Lian raked a hand through his dark hair, his sharp features now fully visible—pale skin, striking red eyes that burned into her.
A smirk twisted his lips, revealing a glimpse of sharp canines.
So sharp.
If he bit her, she'd definitely bleed.
"Listen well," he began, enunciating each word with deliberate cruelty.
"What kind of child do you want? Tell me now."
"Magic affinity, intellect, connection to nature—I can imbue them with whatever you choose."
"One thing you don't have to worry about is their looks."
"My bloodline is impeccable."
"The contract doesn't specify this, so I could skimp on the magic infusion and half-ass it. But if I did that, I'd probably be disgusted by my own offspring once they're born."
"You have one minute to decide."
With that, he crossed his arms, the fabric of his shirt straining over the defined muscles beneath.
Cornered, Celia finally relented. She buried her face in the sheets, her voice muffled but resigned.
"...I want a child with strong magic."
"Fine."