Breeding Season - Chapter 1
So today was undoubtedly an ill-fated day. At least, for Siren, it was.
Beneath the tower tainted by its disgraceful history—built, as the story went, by the great architect Pelitalis for the sole purpose of carrying out an affair with her aunt—dark green banners surged like waves along the horizon where the sun was rising. As if they were an inescapable tide, Siren felt suffocated and clutched tightly onto the stone railing.
“I heard that in the southern heretic lands, they make you do it with a beast on the first night.”
“…….”
“Aren’t you curious? About what kind of beast you’ll be mating with?”
The voice of her older sister, who had tormented her all her life, seeped into one ear, contaminating Siren before slipping out the other. On any other day, she would have at least pretended to tremble, just to satisfy Angelique. But right now, Siren didn’t even have the mind to do that.
Or rather, she had no will to.
“Hey, answer me.”
At the harsh, impatient demand, Siren’s shoulders instinctively flinched. A reaction ingrained in her over years and years. Just because she was getting married didn’t mean she would suddenly transform into a different person.
“Well, at least it’s fortunate. Even beasts have eyes, but their gaze must be different.
Who knows? Even something as hideous as you might be doted on.”
Eyes said to be crafted from every sweet thing in the world sparkled with mischief. Soft lips, suited for reciting poetry, twisted with malice. Her half-sister, Angelique, was a being who shimmered just by standing there.
There was no lady in all Wilke as remarkable as Angelique. Unlike Siren, who was utterly useless, Angelique was perfect in every way…
And that perfection granted her absolution.
No matter what she did, she would always be forgiven. So Siren had long since abandoned resistance.
No, don’t say it like that.
Those words, hovering at the edge of her throat, had never once escaped since she was seven. While Angelique sobbed and clung to the King, complaining, Siren had been punished for talking back, forced to kneel and starve. Her father had ordered her to stay there until she reflected on her actions, but in the end, he simply forgot she existed.
‘And now, after all this time, he finally remembers me… only to marry me off.’
It couldn’t be helped. Trash tucked away in the corners of a house only comes to mind when it’s time to throw it out.
“Princess, it is time to prepare.”
Of course, the “Princess” the lady-in-waiting referred to did not include her. Even though Siren was the one getting married today. Though her heart had long since rotted, leaving nothing left to decay, an ache—one she thought she could no longer feel—throbbed within her chest.
Siren quietly lowered her head. By now, she should have been numb to it. But today, for some reason, everything felt unbearably difficult. As her nails dug into her palm, pressing hard enough to pierce the flesh, she realized that the sea of green banners had drawn even closer. Absent-mindedly, her gaze drifted toward the darkened stretch where the sun’s shadow fell.
Siren let out a quiet gasp, her lips slightly parted.
“Ah….”
The man leading the procession. The one who unified the lawless southern territories after years of anarchy and rose to a status akin to a king. A man revered even among the heretics, where only the strong survive.
Though she had never set foot outside the castle, rumors still managed to reach her ears. Most of them were brought by Angelique—solely to torment her.
“They say he wields a kukri like a true heretic, slicing through human necks as a pastime. Or perhaps he prefers feasting on the hearts of the infected.”
The Beast of the Desert. The Lord of the Borderlands. The Grand Duke of the South. But of all the many titles used to describe the man who would become Siren’s husband, the one Angelique favored most was this—
That he was, in truth, a former gladiator slave. To Siren… it was a meaningless detail.
Whether he was a royal from some distant land, a gladiator, or even a mere serf, one fact remained unchanged— That man would become her new oppressor. She was still too far to make out his face, but one thing was certain. That platinum-haired man had a fondness for the extravagant and the ostentatious.
Father will hate that.
Even from this high tower, the music carrying through the air was unmistakably foreign. Before she could even decide whether she liked or disliked it, Siren found herself fretting—only to realize how utterly pointless it was.
Starting tonight, her place of residence would change. She no longer needed to mind her father’s moods. To survive, she would now have to mind her husband’s.
“…I’m so tired of this.”
A feeble whisper escaped her pale, parched lips. And with that, Siren finally released her grip on the railing, turning away to dress herself in her wedding attire. And then—
“…!”
Did their eyes… meet?
