Chapter 51
Hansel hesitated, glancing away nervously. She felt embarrassed at first but quickly realized there was no need to with Dante. Relaxing slightly, her gaze softened.
“My… my lower part hurts.”
“Hmm.”
Dante let out a short, understanding hum.
“You said it hurts the first time you put it in.”
“Y-Yeah, that’s true.”
He murmured, his gaze unfocused.
“Strange.”
“…What is?”
“Saying it hurts but still saying it feels good.”
Hansel pressed her lips together, at a loss. How was she supposed to explain this?
Fragments of the previous night drifted through her hazy memory, and against her will, her face flushed hot.
She remembered herself clinging to Dante’s shoulders, sobbing uncontrollably, halfway out of her mind. And that wasn’t all. When overwhelmed by the tidal waves of sensation, she had shaken her head in protest, saying it was too much. Dante had actually stopped.
Even though he had been deep inside her, filling her completely, the sudden lack of stimulation had made her sanity crumble. Don’t stop. More, please, Dante. No, not there. Yes, there. It hurts. It feels so good. What do I do? I love it. Stop. Don’t stop…
“……”
Her face felt like it was on fire. She wanted to shove Dante out of the room or bury herself under the covers.
But she couldn’t afford to let him see her flustered. Maintaining her composure, Hansel pretended to answer nonchalantly.
“That’s just how it is. Something can hurt but still feel good.”
“Then it’s still pain.”
“No, no. It’s like when you eat something so sweet it makes your teeth ache. You spit it out because it hurts, but then you feel emptier than before and regret it. And yet, you still want to eat more.”
“Hmm.”
Dante’s expression wavered, as though he understood… or maybe not. Hansel couldn’t help but chuckle. His face was as stoic as a wooden mask, yet his confusion was written all over it. It was both endearing and amusing.
“Anyway, the first time is always painful for the woman. And it’s not just that—women endure everything. If a baby is born, it’s the woman who struggles for nine months, who’s more prone to illness, who suffers during childbirth. Sometimes, women even die giving birth. Women bear it all, alone.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just how it is. So when you’re with a woman, you should always be grateful and treat her well. Be gentle. Cherish her. If you treat a woman poorly, you’re just an awful, rotten man. Got it?”
Hansel emphasized her words, her tone firm.
It was the core lesson from Madame Virginia’s teachings on educating men about intimacy.
“Got it.”
Dante nodded earnestly, his serious expression almost comical. After a moment of staring at Hansel, he murmured quietly.
“Eat.”
“…Huh?”
“You’re weak because you don’t eat enough.”
Recovering stamina without food? Impossible. It defied nature itself. Injuries and exhaustion required proper rest and nourishment. But from Dante’s perspective, Hansel’s portions were minuscule.
At least she seemed to sleep more than any living creature he knew. If only her eating habits could match his, her stamina would surely improve.
It was the first time he had ever given someone a scolding. Dante had never cared enough about anything to nag before. This, too, was new for him.
He decided to feed her, clean her up, and put her to bed to help her recover. With that thought, he scooped Hansel into his arms.
***
Hansel and Dante sat side by side on the kitchen counter, finishing a late breakfast.
Like giddy teenagers left alone in the kitchen, they fed each other and played harmless pranks.
Hansel pretended to feed Dante a bite but instead popped it into her own mouth. She apologized, only to repeat the trick five or six times. Finally, Dante let out a small sigh of frustration, prompting Hansel to burst into laughter and stop.
She hadn’t laughed so freely since her days as the Arsinoe family’s disgraced eldest daughter. In retaliation, Dante scooped a handful of cake frosting with his bare hand and smeared it into her laughing mouth.
Hansel retaliated with frosting of her own, leading to a back-and-forth battle that turned the kitchen into a war zone for nearly an hour.
Both were a mess by the end, their clothes stained with cream and crumbs. Hansel had strawberry cake frosting smeared everywhere, including her chemise, and Dante’s shirt and pants were no better.
As Hansel clumsily ate a slice of cake with her hands, frosting dripped onto the floor.
“You’re spilling it everywhere.”
“Well, I’m not used to eating with my hands. You should be grateful I’m even trying,” Hansel said, tilting her head defiantly.
“Alright, sure.”
Dante smiled and leaned in closer to her.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up.”
“But why are you—ah!”
Before she could finish, Dante licked the cream off her neck. The light brush of his lips sent a tingly sensation rippling through her navel.
A strange thirst parched her throat, leaving her flustered yet intrigued.
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