Even If It’s Depraved - Chapter 13

She understood that this panther-like man had long harbored the ambition to claim House Brandt for himself. But why today—and why in this way?

The man only smiled leisurely, brushing his tongue along the curve of her ear as he answered,

“Even if I carry Brandt blood, an illegitimate son born outside the main wife has a complicated path to inheriting the family. Especially someone like me—of mixed, foreign blood.”

“……”

“Even if I were to eliminate that toddling half-brother, it wouldn’t be easy to shake off the jackals in the collateral branches and take the head seat. So what should I do?”

“…Don’t tell me.”

“If you’re not a fool, you’ve probably guessed it right.”

Gripping her chin, Franz pulled her toward him and smiled into her violet eyes.

“From now on, Princess, you’ll need to conceive Duke Brandt’s child as soon as possible.”

“……”

“The child you carry as my stepmother will become the late Duke Brandt’s final—and only—legitimate heir.”

So how could I have shared your body with my father? The child born from that womb must be mine, without question.

His lips, whispering that it had to be done tonight—before there was any chance she might carry the duke’s seed, were heavy with satisfaction.

Franz gathered a handful of Brunhilde’s black hair in his grip and exhaled in contentment. Then, pressing her waist down once more, he murmured,

“Now then, Mother… I’ll fill that womb with seed again.”

“Ah…!”

“Do be sure to give birth to a healthy ‘younger sibling.’”

Even after climaxing twice, his still-hardened flesh thrust into her again.

Unable even to close her eyes, with her husband’s cooling corpse before her, she swallowed this new, searing pleasure—and in that moment, a memory rose like a vision.

Her mother, a foreign sorceress, had once whispered a secret to her in secret.

“Great power always demands a heavy price.”

“The constraint the god placed upon their power is far darker and more insidious than what the world believes.”

“My child… the condition God placed upon that power is—”

Her mother’s whispered words shattered like waves beneath the man’s relentless thrusts.

“The most sinful desire each hero secretly harbored… becomes their greatest craving, passed down through their bloodline for generations.”

A sinful desire, impossible to fully grasp, had taken root in this family like a curse.

She had tried to escape that curse. She had even cast away the golden orb to defy her fate. And yet, fate had only tightened its grip around her more cruelly than before.

Now, she felt as though she understood.

The true nature of the curse flowing through the blood of House Brandt. The reason why its men, blessed with such overwhelming power, never lived long and always met grim ends.

Ah… this black desire, racing forward even at the cost of a father’s life.

“Isn’t it better for you, Princess, to side with a young man who’ll pleasure your holes every night, rather than an old man who lusts after a bride young enough to be his daughter?”

And so, in twisting her fate, what remained in her hands was days spent being taken not by her aging husband, but by his young son. Unable to escape the chains of that immense curse.

Was this progress—or ruin?

Was her attempt to defy fate worth embracing such depravity? Perhaps it would have been better to submit to her old husband and live obediently. Even as doubt and uncertainty churned within her, pleasure flickered like sparks.

Her body, having known a man for only two days, accepted even this taboo union as something to savor.

The noble princess, bent over like a beast, chased after pleasure with broken moans, while the son filled his stepmother’s womb with his white seed again and again.

Before the corpse of her dead husband, their transgression continued—day and night, for days without end.

Even after the funeral—held under the cause of death that “the father, exhausted from his passion with his new bride, passed away”—it continued, countless times.

And so, about a month after the great Duke Brandt’s passing—

Brunhilde’s monthly bleeding ceased.

At last, a child had taken root in her womb. Not her dead husband’s, but her depraved stepson’s.

“How curious. To conceive after only a few nights together.”

“Well, they say the two hardly left their chamber for those few days. Forgive me for saying so, but perhaps Duke Brandt was still quite vigorous?”

“Still, it’s fortunate he left behind a final seed before passing.”

People whispered among themselves.

Brunhilde lived in constant fear that someone might uncover the truth and point their fingers at her. Her nerves were so frayed that she could barely sleep, remaining shut away in her quarters.

“As expected of my daughter. I knew you would accomplish it.”

Even her father’s praise—after ordering her to bear Brandt’s child—felt like nothing but a burden. Meeting people, facing them, it had all become unbearably exhausting.

Especially when she had to face her new “son.”

“I hear you’ve been struggling to eat lately because of morning sickness.”

“…I am fine. Do not trouble yourself.”

“How could I, as your son, ignore such a thing? I’ve brought food said to help with nausea.”