| Chapter 1: Prologue

‘Cold.’

The woman, with pale skin and large blue eyes, shivered violently as she swept her bare arms, exposed to the cold. Her eyes, filled with fear, remained fixed on the door, uncertain of when it might open.

The winter in the Duchy of Ivanov, located in the north of the Beniya continent, was famous for being long and brutal.

However, the Ivanov Castle, indifferent to the harsh biting winds, always had fires burning day and night. The fireplace, positioned in a remote hallway, was luxurious enough that the fire would never go out even at dawn, but today was different.

All the maids who had tended to the castle’s hearth, more precious than their own lives, had fled in a rush.

The barbaric, cruel, and infamous northern savages, the Knulu tribe, had breached the walls of Ivanov Castle.

The lone woman left behind sat upright on the bed in her bedroom, which had been slashed and stained with blood.

A flower blooming on ice.

The proud lily of Ivanov, a symbol of nobility and elegance.

Princess Natasha Ivanov.

The jewel-encrusted dresses lined up in her dressing room, the precious marten fur coat, were no longer hers. There was nothing left to ease her trembling.

Only a thin, flimsy negligee barely covered her shame.

‘Will he come?’

She recalled the face of the man who had arrogantly looked down upon her as he stepped over the bloodstained golden throne.

Last night, in the moment when she wished for the world to end, the very world she knew had collapsed. And emerging from the ruins of that world was not her savior.

Instead, it was the grim reaper of hell, someone who despised her more than anyone and desired her destruction above all.

He really had returned.

Alexei Petrov.

A slave from the Knulu tribe, the most despised class in the Duchy of Ivanov. Yet ironically, he was a gladiator who had gained immense popularity, possessing unmatched skill and beauty.

His popularity had been a thorn in the side of Sergey, the king of the Duchy of Ivanov, who had long sought the opportunity to rid himself of Alexei.

And when the moment of crisis finally came, Natasha had managed to evade Sergey’s surveillance and went to the underground prison—only to find it completely empty.

He had been torn to pieces by a lion, close to death. How had he escaped?

“Please be safe.”

It was Natasha who had put him in such a dire position, but shamelessly, she prayed for his safety. She hoped he would be happy, somewhere far away, in a place where Sergey’s surveillance could not reach.

But this was not the kind of reunion she had wished for.

She had never imagined he would return to the Duchy of Ivanov like this—now the king of the northern barbarians, the Knulu tribe, and the new ruler of Ivanov, having conquered the Duchy.

‘Maybe he won’t come.’

Natasha tried to think that way, holding on to that fleeting hope as she recalled the burning red eyes that had glared at her with contempt, more intense than ever.

There are so many rooms in the castle… he might not come all the way to this room. He couldn’t possibly… want me.

With trembling hands, she clasped them together in a silent prayer, holding onto the delicate thread of hope. Her frail back shivered.

At that moment.

Bang!

Alexei, kicking open the door as if to break it, froze at the unexpected sight.

The cold and dim bedroom, where no warmth could be felt, had long since had its lamp extinguished. Only the moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the room.

The woman sitting against the window on the bloodstained bed seemed to absorb all the sparkle of the world, glowing alone with an unearthly, dazzling radiance.

The moment she lifted her trembling blue eyes to him, Alexei, under the moonlight, felt her snow-white skin reflected in the light, startlingly translucent, while the slender yet curvaceous silhouette beneath the flowing negligee became clearly visible.

Then, as a soft, sweet fragrance enveloped him, Alexei paused for a moment to catch his breath, before speaking in a voice that was almost like he was gnashing his teeth.

“What is this!”

With a deep scowl, Alexei yanked off his jacket and hurled it at Natasha.

“…What kind of state is this?”

The jacket smacked against Natasha’s forehead before sliding down to her knees.

“Is this how the noble princess of Ivanov survives? I must admit, I underestimated you.”

He sneered, his voice laced with biting sarcasm.

Natasha clenched her eyes shut, his words cutting deeper than she expected. More humiliating than donning the negligee the Knulu women had mockingly tossed at her, more agonizing than the hours spent waiting in dread for him to appear—this moment, with his disdainful glare and the jacket thrown at her feet, was the lowest point.

With trembling hands, she fumbled to pick up the jacket and pulled it over herself. It was worn, with missing buttons, and carried the scent of sweat mingled with the metallic tang of blood.

Blood.

As the thought of whose blood it might be crossed her mind, Natasha’s fists clenched tightly. An echo of a delicate, familiar voice resonated in her memory.

“Sister, run. Sergey has fallen to the Knulu tribe’s swords. You always wanted to be free, didn’t you? Leave me behind and escape.”

Amidst the chaos, the bloodied screams of those fleeing for their lives, she could still see her sister, Sonya, lying on the bed with a pale face, forcing a smile in her direction. How could she abandon her sister? How could she find freedom alone?

Her choice had been clear. If she was to survive, if she was to protect her only sister, this was the only way. Lifting her chin, Natasha spoke firmly.

“Yes, I must survive. Because there is someone I must protect.”

With that, she let the jacket slip from her shoulders once more.

“I told you to take the position of a mistress, not to bare yourself like this.”

Alexei growled, his gaze never leaving her as he took slow, deliberate steps toward her.

Her appearance, though unintentional, made Natasha’s face burn with shame. She bit her lip hard, the taste of copper faint on her tongue.

“Do you truly wish to live so desperately? The noble lily of Ivanov, the pride of the duchy. Even though you must hate me enough to want me dead, for taking everything from you.”

He said, his eyes raking over her trembling figure.

Then, with a cold sneer, he continued.

“Enough to endure such humiliation and become the mistress of the one you despise.”

Natasha, who had been shrinking into herself, suddenly lifted her head.

“I… do not despise you.”

“Lies. Inside, you’re mocking me, calling me lowly—”

“No.”

She interrupted.

“There is no such thing as a lowly person in this world.”

Alexei shut his eyes tightly as something raw surged within him.

That voice.

Those words, the very ones that had once lifted him up and given him purpose, now escaped her lips once more. But why now, at this moment, when he was about to force her into submission, to claim her as his?

Unable to hold back, he hissed.

“Sweet words can cover any lie, can’t they? If you truly do not despise me, if you do not see me as lowly, then surely you won’t reject my kiss.”

With that, Alexei grabbed her hand roughly, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Her slender, pale hand flinched but did not pull away.

Her unusual compliance only stoked the anger simmering in him. His fiery eyes fixed on her as his hand moved to cup her chin, tilting her face up to his.

What lingered in her clear, noble eyes?

Resignation? Sadness? Or perhaps… disdain?

Unable to bear seeing it any longer, Alexei crushed his lips against hers, rough and unyielding.

“Mmph!”

Natasha’s eyes widened in shock as his dry, chapped lips moved against her soft ones, scraping and bruising them. A drop of crimson appeared on her now reddened lips.

Blood.

Even during his days as a gladiator, when he’d spilled countless lives, or when he finally struck down Sergey Ivanov, the taste of blood had never made him falter. But now, the metallic tang on his lips made him freeze.

Haah.

The moment he pulled back, Natasha gasped for air, having forgotten to breathe.

Her warm, ragged breaths grazed his jaw, and Alexei’s gaze turned languid as he looked down at her.

‘Intense.’

His eyes, already fierce, burned with an even deeper, redder intensity. Natasha felt as if she might be consumed by that searing heat, so she quickly turned her head, averting her gaze.

“Blood…”

Muttering those words, Alexei raised his hand, cupping her chin gently. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, his touch delicate, as if handling a fragile glass.

‘Why…’

How could he be so tender when he came here to destroy everything she held dear? After trampling everything she had protected, why was he treating her so respectfully? Even though he intended to violate her in the end… Why?

She almost wished he would be rough with her.

She wished he would be cruel.

She couldn’t stand this gentle, almost teasing touch. It made her want to expect something more.

As he applied pressure to her lips, smearing the blood, his eyes locked onto her trembling gaze, and he finally succeeded in capturing her attention.

‘Just crush me already.’

As Natasha’s eyes carried resignation, Alexei’s fingers pressed against her wounded lips.

“Ah…”

The sharp edge of his nails dug into the cut on her lips, causing Natasha to gasp, unable to suppress the pain.

‘It hurts.’

Seeing the satisfaction in his gaze as Natasha glared at him with distorted eyes, Alexei’s lips curled up slightly. He slowly ran his tongue over his lips, savoring the taste.

Natasha, mesmerized, watched as his dry lips became moist. But then, snapping back to reality, she tried to look away—but it was already too late. He had noticed.

With a lazy blink, Alexei took hold of her chin again.

The moment he roughly grabbed her, Natasha felt all her resistance fade. His soft tongue gently traced her lower lip.

As her tense body relaxed and her lips parted slightly, his previously rough, dry lips softened, kissing her deeper. The taste of blood—sweet yet metallic—lingered on his tongue.

Mmm…

Haah…

The heated breaths filled the room, mingling as their bodies pressed closer, melding together.

Her negligee, so thin and flimsy, slipped off her shoulder, leaving her almost bare under the intensity of their embrace.

Alexei’s rough hands brushed against the soft, yielding skin of her body.

In that instant, it was as if a lightning strike hit him. His eyes widened, and without a word, he shoved Natasha aside.

“You’re still not fit to be a mistress. If you want to survive, you’ll have to try harder.”

Without another glance, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Or at least, that’s what he intended to do.

Just then, a delicate hand grasped the edge of his coat.