Chapter 49
Euclid, holding Sylaria in his arms, walked down the corridor and entered a vacant room.
The room, not far from the First Prince’s bedchamber, was decorated in a way that starkly contrasted with his own.
Whereas Euclid’s room was a dry space dominated by black and deep crimson, this one was bright, adorned mainly in cream and ivory tones.
It was evident at a glance that great effort had gone into furnishing the spacious room.
Moreover, it was filled with antique furniture, each piece appearing to be of high quality. The bedding looked as fluffy as a cloud, and even the bedposts were draped with a sheer canopy.
Even the guest palace or the lodgings Sylaria had previously stayed in, though quite extravagant, seemed modest in comparison. In a word, this was the kind of room a noble lady might reside in.
To think a place like this existed in the First Prince’s Palace.
Sylaria murmured in admiration at the opulent interior of the room.
“This is…”
“Do you like it? It’s the bedchamber of the First Prince’s Consort.”
At Euclid’s words, Sylaria blinked. In her previous life, back when she was the Second Prince’s Consort, she had lived in a much smaller, more frugal room.
So she hadn’t imagined this to be the bedchamber of the First Prince’s Consort.
“I love it. Will I be staying here from now on?”
“You’re planning to sleep in a separate room from me?”
Euclid, who had lit the room brightly with candlelight, furrowed his brow in displeasure. At his response, Sylaria tilted her head in confusion.
“Then…?”
“I don’t intend to sleep in a different bed from my Purifier. This room is just for you to rest in.”
Euclid spoke firmly, then opened the door to the adjoining bathroom. He carefully set her down in front of the showerhead, then stepped back. As he slowly looked her over, he frowned.
“Your cheek is really swollen. I should’ve made that bastard’s face look the same.”
Sylaria unconsciously touched her cheek. Just then, warm water began falling from above. Euclid had turned it on.
“What the…”
As she stood there, drenched in her clothes, bewildered and about to speak, Euclid stepped under the stream of water. The water soaked his hair, turning it a deep golden hue. His black shirt clung tightly to his solid frame.
With rough hands, Euclid began to peel off his shirt. His deep blue eyes remained locked on Sylaria.
“Eu…clid?”
If a gaze could consume a person, Euclid would devour Sylaria down to the bone. In the warmth of the shower spray, she felt a chill crawl down her spine.
“Sylaria.”
At the low, chilling voice, the hairs on Sylaria’s neck stood on end. He had only called her name… Yet strangely, heat flared between her legs.
“Haa…”
From within the rising steam of the shower, Euclid removed his shirt. At first, he patiently unbuttoned it, but then, with a deep sigh, he gripped the fabric and tore it open.
Buttons flew in all directions, and the damp shirt dropped to the floor with a splat.
His firm, broad chest and the clearly defined abs beneath came into Sylaria’s view.
As she stared at his sculpted, muscular body, it was hard to believe he shared the same blood as Arendtert, whose physique was flat and unimpressive.
To think two brothers could be this different. No wonder Euclid had subdued Arendtert so easily.
“What are you thinking about?”
As Sylaria stood dazed, Euclid tilted his head while undoing the buckle of his belt. His voice, hoarse with desire, was thick with longing.
“You’re staring at me… What’s going through your head, hmm?”
At the sweet yet chilling sound of his voice, Sylaria flinched and trembled slightly.
It was Euclid who had undressed, yet somehow she felt as though she were the one being stripped bare.
Flustered, she tried to avert her gaze, but Euclid hooked her slender waist and pulled her close.
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