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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

V: Solo

Edith had fallen beside Kazan and was trying to push herself up on the wide, plush cushions when his arm draped over her shoulder. Instead of getting up, she ended up being pulled even closer against him.

“What do you think you’re…!”

As she started to get angry, a sweet scent mixed with acrid smoke hit her nose. The smell of wine was thick on Kazan’s body, the one holding her.

“Have you been… drinking?”

“You.”

“What?”

He always mumbled so quietly it was hard to hear. Unconsciously, she lifted her head to listen better.

His jet-black eyes, half-lidded as if drowsy, stared intently at her, as if they’d been waiting to meet her gaze.

She hadn’t expected him to look at her so intensely. Was it the sudden wave of alcohol smell? She felt as if she were getting drunk herself, her face starting to flush.

“You don’t like me.”

Trapped in her stillness, Kazan spoke in a low voice, throwing out words whose intention she couldn’t read—was it a question, or an accusation?

“Last time, and now—when did I ever say I didn’t like you?”

“That day…”

“What day?”

Frustration creeping in, her voice came out tinged with annoyance.

Kazan, as if her tone bothered him, frowned slightly and turned his head away, taking a deep drag from his pipe before exhaling the smoke along with a long sigh.

“Haa, are all women this fickle?”

“What? And you, Prince, sighing right in someone’s face like that? And whatever it is you’re talking about, I don’t dislike you. I don’t particularly like you either.”

As if her petulant retort wasn’t enough, the content itself was absurd. Edith pouted her lips and shot back at him.

The acrid smoke and alcohol smell from him grew stronger, and she covered her nose with the back of her hand.

‘If I keep smelling this sweet, strong wine scent, I’m going to get drunk too…’

“Why are you covering your nose?”

“The smell of alcohol… it’s too strong.”

“Do you hate alcohol?”

His question made her think. Even in her original world, ‘she’ hadn’t been one to enjoy drinking. She remembered her constitution didn’t handle it well, and her tolerance was low.

‘Come to think of it, since coming to this world, I haven’t had a chance to drink… I think the only time was trying a glass of wine at that first banquet?’

“I don’t drink well, and I don’t particularly like it either.”

At her vague answer, Kazan gave her that small smile she’d seen before.

“So you call me a child, but you can’t even hold your liquor… is that it?”

There was a strange undertone in his voice. Kazan set the long, slender pipe on its stand on the table and got up from the bed.

He suddenly released her and stood, leaving her sprawled on the bed. Edith sat up properly and glared at where he’d gone.

He returned with the entire bottle of wine from the table, poured a glass full, and downed it in one gulp right beside her.

Then, suddenly, he gently cupped her chin and kissed her, his mouth full of wine.

“Mmph…!”

The liquid that entered her parted lips along with his tongue was sweet at first, with a bitter alcohol finish. She wanted to spit it out, but Kazan’s hand pressed her jaw and cheek, forcing her mouth open, and she ended up swallowing it.

Gulp—

The wine she couldn’t manage to swallow trickled down her chin, staining both her and Kazan’s ivory silk robes red.

“Pff—! What do you think you’re doing?!”

She finally tore her mouth away, gasping for air, and tried to protest, but he ignored her reaction and filled his mouth with wine again.

After about three such kisses, her body grew warm and she felt slightly tipsy. The wine was sweeter than expected, so it wasn’t unpleasant.

She didn’t think she was that drunk, but Kazan was looking down at her through those long lashes.

He must have drunk quite a bit too. Though he pretended otherwise, the gaze he fixed on her seemed hazy, as if he was somewhat intoxicated.

“Prince, are you drunk?”

Suddenly, an inexplicable courage welled up inside her. Feeling playful, she pressed a finger to his chest and laughed.

“Don’t call me Prince. Call me Kazan again.”

Kazan, who had always seemed uncomfortable with her calling him ‘Prince,’ frowned, clearly displeased even now. He ran his fingers through his fine, silver hair, roughly tousling it.

“Lord Kazan, Prince Kazan… same difference…”

Watching her babble nonsense, Kazan’s eyes met hers.

His silence filled the room with a quiet stillness. Feeling awkward, Edith tried to avoid his gaze and looked down.

But when her eyes lowered, what she saw was his bare chest, revealed because his robe had become completely undone—she had been gripping his collar tightly during those kisses without realizing it.