The Nymph Wants to be Plundered - Chapter 37

Ironically, the same could be said for the man holding her.

Cassis had lived long, but longevity had not schooled him in the swelter of midsummer nights or the wildfire of shared desire. His body knew only the mechanics of pleasure—how to pry open its gates, nothing more.

“Evelyn?”

“Ah… haah….”

The breaths coming from her were anything but steady—ragged, fevered. Was she ill? Yet the vitality thrumming beneath her skin told him otherwise. It made no sense. The air in the watchtower was hardly cold enough to warrant her shivering, and there was nothing here that could have sickened her.

“Evelyn?”

Then, from the woman swaying against him, a plea—soft, desperate.

“P-please… not yet. Just a little longer….”

‘Hm.’

His gaze cut through the dim light seeping between the wooden slats. Below, lanterns still glowed, and his own night vision was sharp enough to navigate the dark. But she? The village chief had called her timid. So why insist on staying here, alone with him? The Hall of Glory offered warmth, light, and the comfort of a real bed. True, if duty called, he’d have to leave—but she could remain safe in his chambers…

Then it struck him.

‘She fears being left behind.’

There would be more nights like this, more hours where she’d be stranded in his room, a ward under his protection. The thought rankled, though not enough to outweigh the fleeting kinship he felt with Nike. Perhaps he could send Evelyn to her, someday. For now, habit had him stroking the curve of her lower belly, soothing.

“Fine. Then we’ll—”

“H-hyuk…!”

The sound she tore loose at his touch wasn’t a moan—it was a sob, thick with tension.

‘…So that’s it.’

At last, he understood the root of her discomfort. Steadying Evelyn as she swayed, he spoke low.

“Evelyn, let’s go back. You don’t need excuses to stay here any longer.”

The moment they stepped outside the watchtower, the castle guards bowed deeply to their king. They weren’t the only ones present. A handful of elves, having fled the agora to escape Nike’s ceaseless singing, lingered nearby. They, too, offered respectful nods—though their murmured sighs at the sight of the unfamiliar woman clinging to Cassis’s arm were another matter entirely.

“Ahh…”

A fragile, foreign creature held fast in the king’s grip.

Neither elf nor human—and if there was anyone in the castle who knew what she truly was, it would be the elves. After all, this was nearly the first time since his coronation that their reticent king had acted so unilaterally.

Once the pair had vanished down the corridor, one of the elves finally voiced the question hanging in the air.

“Was that… the human-born nymph?”

“Yes.”

“Even if her affinities have shifted, wouldn’t Lord Laocon be more than capable of overseeing her care? Lord Iyel is busy enough as it is. Why must His Majesty trouble himself with a single nymph?”

“Exactly. They even uprooted her tree and brought it here. Couldn’t they just give her a separate residence and let her fend for herself?”

As discontent rippled through the group, the elf who had first spoken edged back, uneasy with the rising vitriol. But the others, emboldened, only grew more brazen.

“In the old days, a nymph like her would’ve been lucky to get a shack near the castle gates. Now she’s being escorted by the king himself? Ridiculous.”

“Well, of course. It’s not like we need her. We have Nike, don’t we? We’ve managed perfectly fine without nymphs before—why start now?”

“Unless… Those rumors about her tree are true. That it’s sickly. Failing.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Ugh. Don’t tell me His Majesty intends to sustain her life by channeling his own vitality into her. By touch.”

“……”

The murmurs of dissent finally faded as the discontented elves dispersed, leaving only two observers who had kept their distance throughout the exchange. They shared a troubled glance, the weight of unspoken thoughts passing between them.