Chapter 10
She looked so fragile that he didn’t even feel much like teasing her, and that was the real problem.
“You really plan to follow me all the way to the south?”
At his casually thrown question, her already round eyes widened even further.
“Y-yes! I want to go.”
“Everyone will hate you, you know? The sea—what’s so special about it? Even there, the infected swarm.”
“I… I want to go. If you take me with you… we’re husband and wife, aren’t we?”
“Is it just my imagination, or do you only call us that when it’s convenient for you?”
“That’s… But still, w-we signed the marriage contract….”
Though her words trailed off, she did not retract her claim.
He rather liked that.
The way her damp hair swayed was quite endearing, too. Like a fluffy little puppy.
‘Still, if I’m going to keep her by my side with all her limbs intact, the title of wife alone won’t be enough.’
The south had its own distinct culture.
A unique system built by those who had to survive among hordes of the infected for countless years. In the south, unless one conformed to the southern way, no one would acknowledge them.
“Should I raise you?”
“Huh?”
“You.”
Southerners cherished their possessions to an extreme degree. Because there was so little they could have in their lifetime.
The strongest among them even owned people, though in the past, he hadn’t understood why they went through such trouble.
When they claimed it was because they liked having someone who understood their words and acted adorably, he had scoffed and called them insane.
“Never thought I’d come all this way just to pick up a stray.”
Muttering to himself, he slowly tucked the woman’s hair behind her ear. As expected, no lust stirred within him.
Then this feeling—if he had to put a name to it—was likely a sense of responsibility, the kind that came from stumbling upon something pitiful.
“O-okay.”
Swallowing dryly, Siren sensed that this was her chance.
“Raise me. Please.”
To be honest, her position had been precarious all this time.
She was neither Yasamin’s proper wife nor his bed-warming mistress, nor even his servant. Just a survivor of the former royal dynasty who had, by sheer happenstance, remained alive by his side.
She knew well that a flimsy marriage contract alone wouldn’t secure her place. And that if she wanted to survive, she had to take on a role—any role—at all costs.
“I won’t be a bother. I… I listen well. If you teach me, I’ll learn quickly. I’ll stay quiet, won’t make a sound. Please, take me in.”
You’ve watched me all this time—you know that. Her desperate gaze conveyed those words, and Yasamin clicked his tongue shortly.
Siren swiftly recognized that as permission. Just as he had observed her, she had observed him. Desperately, tenaciously, taking in everything about him to stay alive.
By now, she could somewhat guess his mood just from his expression.
The Yasamin she knew was someone who never held back when he disliked something.
But unexpectedly, he had a soft side and found deep thinking bothersome, which made it easier to slip through the cracks and gain his approval. Having endured a lifetime under the mercurial Angelique, Yasamin didn’t feel all that unfamiliar to her.
“Will the princess be able to endure being treated like a dog?”
At that moment, Yasamin smirked and ruffled her hair. Recalling the bloodstained hands of his past, she flinched slightly, but she forced herself to withstand the instinctive fear.
After all, she didn’t dislike him.
“Food….”
“Food?”
“As long as you feed me well….”
Mumbling, she stopped mid-sentence when Yasamin burst into laughter.
‘He looks just like a star when he laughs.’
The pitch-black night sky leaves swaying like curtains. The slightly humid air and the flickering fireflies. And within it all, the platinum-haired man. His striking features and clear smile were so far removed from murder that Siren felt herself mesmerized.
‘If I have to belong to someone, I’d rather it be the strongest.’
She wondered what had become of the people in the royal palace. She had no way of knowing what fate had befallen them, but just imagining it sent chills down her spine.
Even if she had to become a dog, if she could stay like this….
“In the ruling class of the south, there is a culture of subjugation contracts.”
“…….”
“In exchange for offering everything you are to me, I take responsibility for your life.”
Drip. Drip.
Droplets of water slid from the ends of her hair, dampening the ground. Siren watched somewhat tensely as Yasamin took a strand of her wet hair between his fingers and played with it.
“In the south, where you can’t even be sure if you’ll survive the night, it’s a common practice. You submit to a stronger person and gain the right to live.”
“Yes.”
“But in return, you forfeit any rights over yourself. Even every breath you take belongs to me. Of course, that also means no one but me can lay a hand on you.”
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