When That Door Opens - Chapter 40
I had heard that the first time could be very painful, but it wasn’t as terrible as I had braced myself for. Instead, the pleasure was incomparable to anything I had felt before. As I sank into the bliss, I was certain he felt the same. I also realized why people fall in love: sharing the exact same emotion with someone else is so powerful. We kissed again, almost instinctively.
“Lady Astel.”
He called me by my sister’s title, not my name. The longing in his voice pained me.
That longing should be entirely mine. It should be associated with my name, not the remnants of my sister.
Even in the throes of passion, I thought about resolving this once everything was over. The problem was, I didn’t have a name of my own.
His movements gradually quickened. An instinctive whisper told me the final moment was approaching.
A wave of climax engulfed me. My vision flashed white.
“Ahnn…!”
Just before climaxing, he managed to withdraw from my body. I lay limp, intoxicated by the lingering waves of ecstasy, feeling as though I could die happily right then.
I’ve really gone and done it.
As the pleasure subsided, a heavy, dull ache started to make itself known from below. I barely managed to curl up.
“Lady Astel?”
Ignoring his call, I thought, Roman would no longer desire me. He might seek revenge, but he wouldn’t want to hold me anymore. Now, how should I get back to my room? I couldn’t move a finger.
It was embarrassing, but I knew I had to ask for his help once more. At the very least, he could support me. He must have done more for the noblewomen he served. As my tension released, my eyes started to close.
“Lady Astel!”
In the midst of my thoughts, just as I began to drift into sleep, with his hands on my shoulders, he gently rolled me onto my back. My eyes snapped open. It felt like a blast of cold air jolted me awake.
His lips were tightly set, as if he had something important to say. I asked weakly, “What’s wrong? Sorry, I’m so tired. Could you just say it quickly?”
“Was it your first time?”
“What?”
“Was it your first time? Did you entrust your first experience to me?”
Was it because I was so tired? My mind wasn’t functioning well. Blinking in confusion, I finally understood his question and nodded.
“Yes, it was my first. Why?”
“Your first experience, with me?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me with disbelief, unable to comprehend my nonchalant response. Frustrated, he ruffled his hair and stood up abruptly.
I stared blankly at the ceiling before curling up again. Now that the warmth was gone, I started to feel cold. Hugging the crumpled blanket, I listened to the sound of running water.
A short while later, he returned with a damp cloth in one hand. Seeing me buried under the blanket, he quickly looked around and then brought over the neatly folded blankets from the corner, covering me with them.
With only my head peeking out, I asked, “What’s that towel for?”
“To clean you up.”
He said this as he started to wipe my body. Every touch of the cloth made me feel embarrassed. I considered closing my legs but decided against it. After all, there was no need to be modest now. It also felt somewhat nice to be cared for so tenderly.
After putting the wet cloth aside, he sat next to me. Even though I hadn’t asked, he gently massaged my arm. The stiffness in my muscles eased, and I quietly accepted his massage.
He sighed, seeming troubled.
“I’ve heard that a woman’s first experience is not easy. Many get hurt because of those who are careless. I should have been gentler, ensuring it wasn’t painful. I should have been careful instead of just satisfying my desires!”
“I was fine.”
“What?”
“It was gentle and good enough. You don’t need to worry.”
I smiled softly. His fussing over me seemed endearing. I thought to myself, about how it was fascinating how just one shared emotion could change my perception of someone so drastically.
“By the way, how old are you?”
“What?”
“You seem younger than me, right?”
“Does my age matter right now?”
“When did you have your coming-of-age ceremony?”
He seemed annoyed by my attempts to change the subject but answered dutifully.
“Three years ago.”
“Is the age of adulthood in your country the same as in Schultz?”
“Not exactly. Schultz is three years older.”
“Ah, so I’m your noonim*.”
(T/N: Noonim is an honorific in Korean which refers to an older female, and is a term used by men. Noonim, on the other hand, is more formal. Given their positions, he has to be formal with how he addresses her. Age is important in Korean culture, and that still reflects in European Ambience novels)
“What?”
I chuckled softly and patted the spot beside me.
“Never mind about that. Just lie down next to me.”
“Does age matter right now? I shouldn’t have done this. Why didn’t you tell me beforehand? If I had known, I would have been much more careful…”
“If I told you it was my first time, would you still have held me?”
“…Well…”
“See, I knew it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was right about him. If I had confessed it was my first time, he would have refused me by any means necessary, claiming it wasn’t something to share with a mere slave.
