The Nymph Wants to be Plundered - Chapter 98

Back then, even until yesterday, it was a conversation I couldn’t comprehend. If everything has a beginning, why would the great king fear something as trivial as taking a consort? Ironic as it was, that audience became both the first and the last—because shortly after, the nymphs began dying in droves, and the previous king poured all his strength into trying to stop it.

In the end, it was obvious that the throne would remain solitary until the day the previous king abdicated.

‘Even now, is there only one chair in the audience chamber?’

I didn’t know. It didn’t even cross my mind to run to Iel and ask. That… was something I could slowly confirm later, after she was wed to Cassis and crowned his beautiful queen. Of course, Polyxene hoped that rather than dragging the old chair out of storage, they would simply make a new one.

Just for her.

“Your Majesty, please drink.”

“It’s fine. Give it to those gathered here who are suffering from the heat.”

“Understood.”

The king, refusing even the goblet offered by the attendant, surveyed the assembled citizens with a bearing as flawless as a carved sculpture. Polyxene stood there, dumbstruck, helplessly drowning in the vivid gleam of his dawn-blue eyes.

As if defying the belittling moniker of “crow’s meal knight,” the glimpses of his pale throat between his collar and the smooth, cold-looking back of his hand resting on the armrest were irresistible. The urge to rush forward, to lick and cling to him with her tongue, was overwhelming. His allure was endless.

Then, her cousin Iel approached, whispering something into the king’s ear. Just the slight tilt of his head, the sharp line of his jaw now exposed, was enough to make Polyxene ’s mind haze over. She wanted his fingers—so proper, so controlled—to grip her chin, to rub against her b*****s with rough desperation, to finally pin her beneath him and make her scream.

It’s f*****g infuriating.

There are still elves in the castle—lucky, insufferable b*****s—who got to feel Cassis inside them before he became king, before he was even the Guardian of the World Tree. Their whispered confessions slither into her ears like poison, making her clench her thighs just to smother the ache.

“They said it was massive—too f*****g thick to take raw. He had to work his hips slow, grinding into them until they were so wet, so ruined, that their bodies finally gave in. And when those thighs—thick as a warhorse’s, hard with muscle—pinned them down, they swore they saw stars, like their f*****g souls were being f****d out of them. Hah…!”

Worse, the details didn’t stop there. His touch wasn’t gentle. No sweet caresses, no patient coaxing—just raw, relentless ownership. And yet, they’d all come apart embarrassingly fast, trembling like virgins before he’d even buried himself to the hilt. Before he’d even given them his full length! And his fingers—gods, his fingers—rough and knowing, circling their n*****s, pinching just shy of pain until their c***s dripped, thighs shaking with every filthy pulse…

It’s unfair. Even now, the thought of those women—their moans, their sweat-slick bodies beneath his—makes her nails dig into her palms. She’d lived in the same damn castle, walked the same halls, and yet she’d been blind. She’d watched the seasons change, flaunted Iel’s gifts like a peacock, desperate for a glance from him—so why couldn’t she remember a single moment where Cassis had looked at her?

‘F**k, why was I so stupid? If I’d just noticed him back then, before the World Tree claimed him… No. No—his past doesn’t matter. His firsts? The ones that still remain? Those belong to me.’

A bitter smirk twists her lips. There is a petty satisfaction in knowing those women had tried—and failed—to claw their way into Cassis’ heart after he’d ruined them for anyone else. They’d wanted more than his c**k, more than the way he’d split them open and left them gasping. But he’d walked away without a backward glance, leaving them with nothing but memories of being used.

Because Cassis wasn’t just some mindless beast. He knew how to worship a woman—how to make her scream, how to make her beg—but he’d saved none of it for them. Their nights with him were just sweat and hunger, bodies grinding for release. Nothing sacred.

But her?

She’d have everything. Every untouched moan, every unclaimed shudder—every last f*****g first he had left.

And she’d ruin him right back.

Since Cassis is the king, it’s obvious his daily life is busy, and private conversations between them would be rare. Maybe during the evening when the sun is setting, but so what? They have their own warm moments to satisfy the hunger in their hearts. Two glasses of wine clinking together with a cheerful sound, fingers brushing against each other over shared plates of food—things like that.

Polyxene’s chest ached as her heart began to race with overwhelming excitement. He and she were starting from scratch. And yet, there was another reason for her brimming confidence.

He said he absolutely doesn’t do it with his mouth.