Breeding Season - Chapter 19
His skin was different from that of the Wilkeron people.
Though it had the color of porcelain shaped from grains of sand, it was softer—softer than anything else. One might say it felt as though all the heat of the world was gathering within it.
His broad shoulders and back were expansive, and his muscles were densely woven, giving the impression of looking at a masterpiece painting.
Furthermore, after being carried, it became even clearer: there was not a single trace of unnecessary fat on his body.
So, although at a glance he was not larger than the Wilkeron knights, his body, honed to the extreme, was faster and much stronger.
“The condition is far from good…”
Lying somewhere, Siren looked up at Yasamin, who was carefully observing her, and suddenly realized something. That he was truly younger than her. A boyish charm.
The subtle, almost unattainable beauty that cannot be found in a grown male, that aesthetic remained in Yasamin.
“I’ll get us across the desert as quickly as possible, so bear with it for just a bit longer. It’ll be better that way.”
His voice hummed in her ears. Siren looked up at him with blurry eyes, her lips trembling as if she were about to speak.
Was she going to say she was fine? Or not? She wasn’t sure.
What was certain was that her consciousness was fading more and more. She herself felt like she was doing a lot of things, but there were countless excuses she could offer.
First, she had witnessed the death of her family, been torn from the place she had lived her whole life, faced threats to her survival, and… and…
“Ah…”
The scorching sunlight made her head burn. As the desert drew closer, a strange sense of discomfort stirred inside her.
What should she even call this? An emotion that had been long lingering, too difficult to even name.
With every breath, she felt an urge to vomit something, though she didn’t even know what it was—just something.
Perhaps it was fortunate that she didn’t have the strength to struggle. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she was carried again.
Leaning against Yasamin, she spotted the distant mansion made of light-colored sandstone and pressed her dry eyelids a few times before opening them again.
‘Is that… a mirage…?’
It is said that mirages occur in deserts.
No one knows why they happen. Some say it’s a trick of desert spirits, others call it a curse. Some dismiss it as nonsense, while some warn that one should be cautious if they see a mirage.
In any case, the common factor is that it is not “real.” There couldn’t possibly be a mansion in the middle of the desert, so it must be some illusion of light.
“No, Master. What brings you here…?”
“Move aside.”
“Gasp, the one you’re carrying is…!”
“My wife.”
But how did this happen?
When Yasamin knocked loudly on the door of the milky sandstone mansion, a well-dressed figure appeared.
An elderly man wearing a turban addressed him as “Master,” then turned to look at her, his mustache trembling as he exclaimed in surprise.
“Your, you’re on the verge of losing your breath! What are you doing, carrying such a distinguished person like this? You should have at least put her on a camel!”
“Shut up. I was hurrying. Just treat her.”
Who could raise their voice like that to Yasamin?
And Yasamin didn’t even get angry.
The fact that such a manner was implicitly allowed meant they were quite close, but they didn’t seem like family.
“I’ll make medicine to lower the fever. And Pamilla! Pamilla, go and wipe the Madam’s body. You need to cool the area where the aorta passes especially.”
Siren took a long breath as she listened to what was happening around her. Her stomach was still churning, but she felt a bit better now that she was in the shade.
“Madam, I’ll wipe your body. It might feel a little cold.”
The voice was gentle, though Siren didn’t know who it was. The touch was equally tender.
Soon, the medicine flowed into her lips, but Siren couldn’t swallow it. She coughed and spat it out instead.
“Tsk. Give it here. I’ll feed her.”
“Oh, would you? You’re the one who shudders at the thought of medicine.”
“Shut up.”
Slick, slick.
Breathing was difficult. Her throat burned, and a bitter taste lingered on her tongue.
She frowned in disgust, but suddenly, darkness descended. It was as if the sunlight had suddenly fled, and night took over, and she lost her breath.
“Ugh…!”
It was bitter. A sour taste so harsh it felt like a wave crashing over her, Siren wriggled and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to resist.
She didn’t want to swallow. But the intruder was ruthless.
“Everyone out.”
The man spat those words and then put more medicine in his mouth, forcing it into hers. He even blocked her nose so she couldn’t avoid it.
If she wanted to live, she had no choice but to open her throat, so she complied easily.
If she were to die from suffocation here, she would have already died at the palace. She wouldn’t beg for her life pathetically.
