Chapter 15
4. May You Alone Not Be Devoured by Fate
Years passed, and the seasons turned.
The child she had named Carlos grew well, and before she knew it, he was already five years old.
During that time, House Brandt remained stable, quiet, even peaceful.
Save for one incident two years ago.
The Duke’s legitimate heir, an eight-year-old boy, had drowned. Now, the only legitimate child left in House Brandt was the one the princess had borne.
In response, Franz swore a firm oath before the One-Eyed Seer—that he would protect his father’s last remaining heir at all costs and pass on to him the seat of the family head.
Entrusted with the position of acting lord, he took charge of the household in place of his still-young brother.
And among those duties… was offering comfort to his widowed stepmother, left alone far too early.
“Hnngh—Fr-Franz…!”
“Mother’s lewd hole… haah! Even after bearing a child, it hardly… hh! Seems to know how to tighten up.”
It was afternoon, the sun high overhead, on Brunhilde’s bed. Her new stepson, breath ragged, bit down on her shoulder blade and pressed his hips deep. The mistress of Brandt’s household trembled in familiar pleasure, forcing out the words between gasps.
“S-soon… Carlos will… haah! Be here any moment…”
At those words, a mocking smile spread across Franz’s handsome face. Pressing his hips flush against her, grinding against her inner walls, he changed his tone and whispered:
“Moaning beneath me every single day, and yet you don’t want your young child to see us rutting, Mother? Hmm?”
“Franz… please…”
“You should consider your son’s devotion, remaining unmarried, serving you every night. It won’t do to be ashamed of my filial piety.”
Then, from outside, came the sound of small footsteps.
Startled, Brunhilde tried to push Franz away—but his solid body didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled her even closer, gripping her swaying b*****s and pressing down on her back. Brunhilde listened to the approaching footsteps and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Mother, I’m here!”
“Ngh—!”
A sharp thrust nearly made her cry out. All she could do was flatten herself against the sheets, hiding her shameful body. A moment later, the toddling child stopped at the doorway, blinking his violet eyes. Seeing his innocent face, Brunhilde felt a surge of despair—almost wanting to die.
“Mother…—?”
“Carl’s here.”
It was Franz who answered the child’s confused question. Thrusting harder into his prone mother, he arranged his face into a smile.
“Sorry, Carl, but your brother is speaking with Mother right now.”
“Oh… is that so?”
“Yes. So why don’t you go out and have a nice snack? This is an important conversation, so tell everyone else not to listen.”
Even as he promised to play later, his fingers pressed and twisted Brunhilde’s n****e beneath the sheets. She could barely hold back the moan rising in her throat. With immense effort, trembling, she forced herself to smile.
“Th-that’s right. Do as your brother says, Carl.”
“…Mm. Okay.”
“Good boy… Mother will… ngh! After I’m done talking with Franz…”
A fingernail pressed hard against her n****e, scraping the tender flesh. Brunhilde winced, sucking in a sharp breath. She wanted to fall apart—but she couldn’t. Struggling to continue her sentence, she tried to smile with trembling lips.
“Mother… are you unwell?”
The child asked, his round face filled with deep concern.
For a moment, her vision blurred with tears. Brunhilde parted her heated lips and answered haltingly,
“……N-no, Carl. Mother is… fine.”
“But…”
“That’s enough, Carl. You should go now. I’m here, so don’t worry about Mother.”
There was a quiet sternness beneath his words—as if reminding the child that, as the elder, he would take care of things.
Carlos nodded, though he still looked unconvinced. After offering a small farewell, he lingered, taking one more look at Brunhilde before finally stepping out.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
Franz slipped an arm around her chest and pulled her upright, then asked with a lazy smile,
“How did it feel, talking to your son while being taken like that, Princess?”
“……You’re cruel.”
“Cruel? That’s a bit much. You don’t think Carlos is only your son, do you? I’m his father too.”
Of course, that truth would remain a secret known only to you, me and Heen.
“Well then, Mother, shall I continue fulfilling my ‘filial duty’ from earlier?”
“Ah—!”
“Carl might come back, so I’ll finish quickly. We still have the night, after all.”
The man’s c**k began to drive into her in quick, relentless strokes. Even as she struggled through the crushing pleasure, the image of her child’s violet eyes—filled with worried confusion—lingered in her mind.
Once this is over, I’ll fix my clothes quickly and go to him. I’ll hold his small body in my arms.
My beloved child. My only refuge.
Thinking of Carlos made even this humiliating ordeal bearable. Cradled in Franz’s arms, still caught in the aftermath of his release, she scattered the pleasure that lapped at her as best she could.
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