The Camellia Tattoo - Chapter 1
Chapter 1. Wielding Winter’s Claws with the Face of Spring Blossoms
“If it’s too much to endure, then hit my cheek.”
Amber Shadroch furrowed her brow at the imposing weight.
The strong Northern accent seeped through in the man’s forceful voice, scraping against her ears.
Soon, a faint consciousness that seemed to be splitting or perhaps shattered surged up. No, it was probably closer to being shattered.
Desperately gasping for air, she struggled against the heat pouring from the man, her chapped lips parting sharply.
Like a person with feet slipping into the sea, or like a fish caught and struggling for breath, she gasped, wrinkling her brow as the man’s lips met hers.
Was he attempting to force a kiss? In reality, she had only tried to breathe.
As her breath was blocked, she clawed at his neck, causing the man to release her, tearing away the sheet with one hand. His face seemed somewhat familiar yet younger than she remembered, causing her slender shoulders to shudder.
Ah, her mind twisted fiercely.
This man, who was aggressively devouring her, had undoubtedly breathed his last before her eyes. She remembered his once handsome face stained with dark red blood.
Just moments ago, she had been in that situation. Hugging her rounded stomach, trembling, reaching out to her husband standing before her.
That man, the one who remained unshaken no matter what she did. It was hard to believe that this steadfast man had died. She wanted to shout at him not to joke around.
But he didn’t open his eyes, and Amber also met a tragic end
The putrid scent and the rancid breath from the decaying earth still lingered at the tip of her nose. It was a desolate world where not a single soul would shed a tear even when they saw the bodies of the dead and the monsters stacked together and set ablaze.
The sky remained eternally crimson, and blood flowed instead of water on the ground.
‘And yet…my husband is alive.’
Her body felt heavy and limp like waterlogged. Perhaps the feather bed she was lying on was just too comfortable, that might be it.
She hadn’t truly enjoyed it the past year before her death.
The war between the dragons and humans had been terrible.
Even Amber had to sit with her battle-worn, hands meticulously sewing bandages, so much that the clean cloth always seemed to be lacking.
The vivid memory of how she had torn even the soft bedding she possessed to make war supplies was still fresh. That’s how it had been.
“Try to relax a bit, will you?”
The cold sweat flowing down the forehead and neck, amidst his anxious frown, registered piece by piece in her hazy vision. The faint glow of the ninety-nine candles burning beyond his strong back muscles made it feel like some important ritual was taking place.
Staring at it dazedly, she suddenly realized what moment it was.
‘Oh, right. The first night was just like this.’
The realization was slow, but the sense of climax was rapid.
It felt like her insides were crumbling. It was as if a monster resembling the sun was gnashing and swallowing her whole, so Amber chose to tightly shut her eyes.
Was it all a dream then? Was this side the reality, or has she completely lost her mind?
The unbearable ecstasy this man provided was no illusion. The agony that felt like her body was being pierced and torn apart wasn’t either.
She wished it had ended quickly, no matter what had happened.
It was always tough when experiencing this. While she couldn’t compare it to other men’s, just like other parts of his body, that place was undoubtedly too big.
So, it was only natural that the thin skin of her stomach kept getting stretched and tugged.
She was terrified as if a monster was tearing her apart from the inside. Even though it had happened several times before.
Due to the physical disparity between Shadroch and Niflheim people, she had feared her husband from the moment she first saw him. The fear that he would crush her under his weight never quite disappeared.
Even though Igmeyer had never truly harmed her.
“Ah…”
Yes, the name.
His name was Igmeyer…
It had been a while since she called it, almost forgetting that he also had a name.
But Amber had never called him by his name throughout their short married life. Calling him “husband” was the closest and most intimate way she addressed him.
‘Have I ever called his name?’
Even now, she wanted to call it out, but it was futile. Her breath was stuck, only making wheezing sounds, confined within her chest. It felt like her throat was locked, letting out only strained gasps.
How long had it been since her toes aimlessly wavered in the air?
“I can’t hold on like this.”
At the rough, raspy voice, Amber flinched her shoulders. Then, a low sigh seeped out from above her head.
Compared to the man, Amber was much shorter, so when she lifted her gaze at this moment, all she could see was the sharply defined jawline, accentuated by tense muscles. Yet, if she lowered her gaze, she would witness something shockingly unforgettable for a long time, so she had no choice but to avoid looking down.
