Chapter 51

The Duke’s confession was sudden, absurd, astonishing, and utterly unbelievable. “So… Your Highness is indeed a duke, but not a duke of the Empire—is that what you’re saying?” Lino asked, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had expected a tale about a beast, yet this revelation proved far more baffling.

“Then what about the articles and photographs of you alongside His Majesty the Emperor?” Lino pressed, recalling the sparse search results that had appeared when he first looked up Duke Castillion Luz Grondil. Though the information had been absurdly lacking for an imperial duke, the accompanying photos of him with the Emperor had left no room for doubt.

“Ah, that. The impotent bastard kept trying to exploit my face, so I reluctantly snapped a few,” Grondil replied dismissively. “Are they still showing up? I ordered them completely erased.”

“A few still appear, yes.”

“Hah.” Clicking his tongue, Grondil pulled out his phone and fired off a message. His hands were so massive that the device looked like a mere child’s toy in his grasp. “I haven’t been paying attention lately, so the eunuch prick must have quietly re-uploaded them. If he lacks the competence to rule the Empire, he should just abdicate to a capable royal. He’s an incredibly annoying bastard—utterly useless, yet overflowing with greed.”

“Ah… I, I see.” Lino swallowed hard, forcibly burdened with the treasonous knowledge that the Emperor of the Cartia Empire was not only an impotent fool but a greedy, incompetent nuisance.

“Lino.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You’ve likely deduced it by now.”

“Pardon? Deduced what?”

Grondil had abruptly thrust the expectation of deduction upon him. While Lino had absorbed several fragmented truths—that this man was a duke of somewhere else, actually a beast, currently searching for a Letia, and that the Cartian Emperor was impotent—he couldn’t organically weave them together. Or rather, his overwhelmed mind simply refused to.

Frankly, who could possibly string such disparate facts into a coherent conclusion? Seeing Lino’s dumbfounded expression, Grondil furrowed his brow, looking genuinely baffled that his companion had missed something so elementary.

“Hmm? You haven’t figured it out?”

“I apologize, but…” Lino stammered, “I am already thoroughly confused just by the fact that Your Highness is not a noble of the Empire.”

Leaning forward abruptly, Grondil arched an eyebrow. “And the fact that I am a beast doesn’t confuse you?”

Of course that’s the most confusing part, Lino thought, his reply dying in his throat. He had wanted to ask about the beast first, but broaching the subject felt entirely too dangerous. The monstrous form he had witnessed that day looked capable of shredding a human body with a single swipe. And those fangs—they had been sharp enough to cause fatal hemorrhaging from a mere graze. If he offended Grondil by probing into his bestial nature, his life might abruptly end upon a claw or fang.

“I… I wasn’t dreaming, was I?” Lino managed to squeak out.

Grondil chuckled. “A dream? Did what we did that day feel like a dream to you?”

“No, it just lacked any sense of reality…”

“Perhaps doing it one more time will prove it wasn’t a dream.”

“…Pardon?” Do what one more time? Eyes widening in terror, Lino sprang from his seat, only to instantly clutch his stomach and collapse back down with a sharp groan.

Though he didn’t know exactly what the beast’s mating nodules looked like, they had undeniably wrecked his insides. He wasn’t actively bleeding from below, but even the slightest rough movement flared with tearing agony.

“Erin promised to bring a newly brewed medicine today, so endure it just a little longer,” Grondil offered. “I’m told it’s a highly effective suppository.”

“A suppository…” Lino groaned in despair. Oh Lord, You must truly despise my anus. Swallowing a grievance that any priest would condemn as blasphemy, he gingerly shifted his weight. “Your Highness, I would like to know what it is I am supposed to have deduced.”

“Simply that I am the Grand King of Isberg.”

Lino merely blinked, unable to form even a basic syllable of confusion. What did I just hear? He thought about that nation dozens of times a day, yet the name completely failed to register in his brain. Whenever he struggled to comprehend something, he habitually repeated it aloud, reading invisible words and tracing them on his thigh.

Grondil observed him quietly. He claimed a profound interest in Isberg, so the shock must be severe. Having roamed the Terne Continent, Grondil had encountered countless individuals fascinated by his homeland—ranging from those with a passing curiosity for the unknown to scholars who devoted their lives to studying it. He often mocked or pitied the errors, paradoxes, and logical leaps tangled within their shallow, verbose theories. Yet, this soft, pale escort knight sitting before him evoked an entirely different sentiment.

He doesn’t seem much different from the rest, Grondil mused. After reviewing the reading list Lino frequented in the study, he had initially categorized the knight’s interest as purely amusement-driven—the kind of fleeting hobby that would naturally cool once life presented a new distraction. Lino obsessively devoured Isberg’s legends, folktales, and myths, reading them with the bright-eyed wonder of a child lost in fairy tales about princes, dragons, and knights. Perhaps that pure, untainted fascination was why the twenty-something young man still appeared so boyish.

My eyes keep drifting to him since that day. Hmm. Grondil recalled finding Lino asleep in the study’s lounge. The knight had been slumbering so deeply and sweetly that Grondil, ignoring Enoch’s frantic protests, had reached out just to feel that soft, warm skin. It was a truly bizarre phenomenon. When Yuneria had thrown himself at him completely naked, he had felt nothing but intense irritation. Yet Lino merely had to sleep in baggy clothes for an undeniable urge to touch him to surge through the beast.

Enoch had been the one to wake Grondil as he slept peacefully with Lino tucked against his bestial form. The perpetually stoic aide had been pale and agitated, pacing in sheer panic. Your Highness, revealing your true form to a human! And engaging in copulation and knotting on top of that… Enoch had hissed, completely unmoored. We must erase his memories immediately. Sir Cliff is a decent human, but fully exposing your identity to him is absolutely forbidden.

I know that, Grondil had snapped back, irritable from being woken. Snapping at his subordinate was highly uncharacteristic, and looking back, Grondil realized his annoyance hadn’t stemmed from the interrupted sleep, but from being forced to release the warm body in his arms.

You’ve maintained your disguise perfectly until now! Why this sudden recklessness? Enoch had scolded. It’s not as if you intend to bring Sir Cliff into your pack. Grondil had let the reprimands wash over him, lost in thought. While Enoch had expected an immediate order to prepare the memory erasure, Grondil’s deliberation had stretched on for more than a day. Seeing his relentlessly decisive master hesitate was so jarring that Enoch began suspecting Lino Cliff possessed some extraordinary quality, quietly assigning agents to monitor the knight’s every move.

Lino took a massive, shuddering breath. Magnificent fireworks exploded inside his skull. Holy hymns praising the divine echoed as his mental background music. It was an internal festival of joy, celebrating the unbelievable reality that the sovereign of Isberg was sitting right in front of him.

Though he was bursting with a million questions, Lino desperately needed to verify the truth one last time. “You aren’t a duke of the Cartia Empire, but truly… Lord Castillion Luz Grondil, the Grand King of the Isberg Grand Principality?”

“To be precise, my full name is Castillion Luz Grondil la Isberg.”

At the sound of that majestic name, a loud hiccup forcefully erupted from Lino’s slack, drooling mouth.

“Are you truly that shocked?” Grondil asked, amused.

“O-of course I am—hiccup! Ah, please wait a moment, Your Highness. I need some water, hiccup!” Face burning crimson from a potent mix of shock, embarrassment, and awe, Lino slapped a hand over his mouth and bolted toward the refrigerator. He tripped spectacularly along the way, crashing to the floor with a deafening thud.

“Are you alright?” Grondil stood up in alarm, but Lino frantically waved him off, popping right back up to retrieve a bottle of water. He was bound to develop massive bruises on his knees and elbows, yet the sheer mental overload seemed to have completely numbed his pain receptors.

The painful tumble successfully halted his hiccups, but to soothe his racing heart, Lino downed the entire bottle in one go. Only when the icy chill pooled heavily in his stomach did his frantic pulse finally steady.

“Is this… what you meant by your confession?” Lino whispered, lowering his voice as if invisible spies lurked in the empty room.

Matching his clandestine tone, Grondil leaned in close. “Enoch went to see Erin, and Sir Disson went out alone. We are the only two on the third floor. Rest easy.”

The Grand King’s lips brushed against Lino’s earlobe. The light, warm breath carrying the whisper tickled his fine hairs, and the deep, raspy voice shot straight through his eardrums. Having leaned forward to listen, Lino violently flinched backward with a strangled gasp and pressed himself flat against the sofa’s backrest.

“Being too sensitive will only make it harder on you,” Grondil remarked with a wicked smile. “You need to become a bit duller, Lino.”

“H-harder? What do you mean?”

“If you don’t know, never mind. You’ll understand once you experience it firsthand.”

Lino furiously rubbed his ear, desperate to scrub away the dangerously intimate sensation lingering on his skin. If he let himself get swept up in this man’s pacing, he would undoubtedly end up dragged right back to bed. “So, Your Highness is… the sovereign of Isberg… Are you truly from Isberg?” Despite his strenuous efforts to remain composed, undisguised veneration and excitement poured from Lino’s eyes.

Isberg. Isberg…!

From his childhood in the orphanage to this very moment, it was the land he constantly dreamed of visiting. Because definitive information was nonexistent, many dismissed it as a mythical utopia. Yet, Lino knew it was no mere fantasy.

It appeared consistently throughout ancient literature and still maintained limited trade with an exclusive few. Skeptics argued the nation was a geopolitical fabrication engineered by the Cartia Empire, which lagged behind the Derma Empire in every metric except landmass. Only Cartia’s supposed alliance with the Isberg Grand Principality allowed the two empires to stand on equal footing.

Lino wholeheartedly believed that if Isberg ever opened its heavily guarded borders and expanded beyond exporting minuscule quantities of mana stones, the true “Empire of the North” would be Isberg itself, not Cartia.

He felt dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of it. The word ‘curious’ was woefully inadequate to describe his burning desire to know everything. A lifetime of reading and imagining had piled into a mountainous terrain of questions, paralyzing him with indecision.

Questions later, Lino sternly reminded himself. First, hear why he came. This is a real person from Isberg.

His mind was entirely hijacked by the man’s nationality, completely overriding the terrifying reality that he was conversing with a monstrous beast. And he wasn’t just a citizen—he was the sovereign ruler. Delaying his interrogation when the living embodiment of his lifelong dream sat right there was excruciating torture. Yet, caution was paramount. Enduring this silence was vastly preferable to offending the beast and getting his throat ripped out before securing a single answer.

Lino deduced that slowly bridging the gap and cultivating familiarity was his safest strategy. In truth, their relationship had already bypassed mere ‘familiarity’ and plunged straight into a profoundly intimate secrecy, but the hopelessly dense knight lacked the cunning to exploit that fact. Nevertheless, his situational judgment remained sharp. Suppressing his urge to leap around in jubilation, he forced his tone to remain level.

“Discovering Your Highness’s true form is a tremendous joy and honor, but… I suspect that my knowing this poses significant risks,” Lino stated carefully.

“You are entirely correct.”

“…Pardon?”

Lino had only tossed the statement out as a tentative probe, yet he had struck the core issue perfectly. He stared blankly, but Grondil showed zero signs of concern. Instead, the Grand King smoothly continued, as if he had been eagerly waiting for Lino to bring it up.

“I am well aware of your profound interest in Isberg. And I am its Grand King. As I mentioned before, maintaining this human shell is incredibly tedious and suffocating.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Since I’ve already spent my rut cycle with you in my true form, Lino, I figured I might take some time to relax.”

“Does that mean… you intend to remain in your original form when we are together?” Lino asked hesitantly. Grondil simply nodded.

Lino clamped a hand over his mouth to physically shove down his rising grin. How could he not be ecstatic that the sovereign of Isberg wished to be comfortable around him? Still, an undercurrent of dread remained.

“But… is it truly wise to expose such a monumental secret to me?” Lowering his hand, Lino nervously rubbed his neck, suddenly terrified that it might be snapped or severed to enforce his silence later. Growing up in the slums had ruthlessly taught him that murder was the most reliable gag order.

Reading his fear, Grondil’s eyes curved into a reassuring crescent. “I am not quite that barbaric. Dozens visit Isberg for trade every year. I can hardly slaughter them all, can I?”

“T-that’s true… Then how do you manage it? Dozens a year becomes hundreds quite quickly.”

Reaching out, Grondil firmly tapped his index finger against Lino’s forehead. “We erase this.”

“Ugh.” Rubbing his forehead where the hard nail had bitten into his skin, Lino instantly realized what Grondil meant by ‘erasing’ and scrambled backward.

“Haha, it takes more than a mere finger tap,” Grondil chuckled. “And even when we do wipe them, we only extract memories pertaining to Isberg. It doesn’t disrupt their daily lives, so you needn’t look so terrified.”

“Only memories of Isberg…” Lino repeated, still eyeing the man’s hands with profound wariness. For someone whose entire existence revolved around Isberg, targeted amnesia was no comfort; it was a devastating death sentence to his dreams.

Grondil understood his devastation perfectly, yet offered no comforting promises of preservation or compromise. He merely maintained his customary faint smile, a silent verdict that served as a crystal-clear answer.

After glaring at the Grand King until his eyes ached, Lino exhaled a heavy, defeated sigh and slumped his shoulders. He knew glaring wouldn’t change Grondil’s mind. It was the law of Isberg, decreed by its ruler. He had no choice but to submit.

“Even if it will all be erased, I still want to know everything I can, Your Highness,” Lino declared.

Grondil stared at him as if analyzing a bizarre anomaly. “If it’s destined to be wiped, is there any point?”

“Because ‘what ifs’ exist. Who knows? I might completely forget, only to remember it all through a tiny spark of déjà vu.”

“That is absolutely impossible, so abandon that pointless hope.”

Deflated by the ruthless shut-down, Lino stuck out his bottom lip and mumbled his protests. “Even so, I want to learn at least one more thing while I still have my mind.”

“If you insist, then do so.”

Nodding furiously, Lino entirely forgot the dull ache in his stomach, eagerly awaiting even the most trivial scrap of Isbergian lore. Surely this confession was part of it, right? Even if the knowledge was doomed, he refused to surrender the sheer, intoxicating joy of learning it now.

Lino watched Grondil’s mouth with sparkling anticipation. Feeling his groin swell beneath that focused gaze, Grondil mentally clicked his tongue. They hadn’t touched. They hadn’t exchanged a single vulgar word. The knight’s stare was entirely pure, fueled solely by academic curiosity, yet it inexplicably aroused the beast. 

Who is this brat to unravel me with a single look? he thought, absurdly wondering if Lino was a meticulously crafted assassin sent by a political rival who knew his hidden tastes better than he did.

It was a laughable, paranoid delusion.

Only the divine’s chosen beloved could ascend the Isberg throne; he had no political rivals.

Discarding his ridiculous theories, Grondil met Lino’s expectant gaze. “The reason my confession was cut short that day was because of you, Lino.”

“What? Because of me?!” Lino yelped, a spike of unjust indignation making his voice boom. “Wasn’t it interrupted because Your Highness suddenly… transformed into a b-beast…?” His fiery defense quickly dissolved into a meek whisper as he withered under Grondil’s stare.

“Do you recall me mentioning that my heat cycle falls in winter?” Grondil asked smoothly.

“Yes, I remember.” Despite the ensuing chaos, Lino had retained every detail: beastkin, heat cycles, beasts blessed by the divine, and the biological mandate to revert to their true forms and breed during those cycles.

“While each beast’s annual cycle varies in timing, the individual rhythm is unerringly precise,” Grondil explained. “I have always navigated my heats according to my natural schedule. This marks the first time my cycle has ever derailed.”

“I see… But how does that make it my fault?”

“This is merely Erin’s theory, but…” Tapping his own chest, Grondil continued, “When a beast favored by the divine…” He then pointed a sharp finger directly at Lino, “…spends extended time in close proximity with, or engages in sexual contact with, a divine-blessed Letia, it can trigger a continuous, unbroken heat cycle rather than a periodic one.”

Lino, who had been nodding along with serious diligence, chewed on the words for a beat before shrieking, “What?!” Pointing a trembling finger right back at Grondil’s outstretched hand, he stammered, “W-why… why…” He desperately wanted to ask why he was being implicated in this insane theory, but his scrambled brain failed to construct a coherent sentence.

“We haven’t confirmed whether you are truly a Letia,” Grondil placated. “If we measure solely by the duration of close proximity, Sir Disson has been intimately guarding me far longer than you.”

“Then you should be having this conversation with Sir Disson…”

“However, I have never engaged in penetrative sex with Sir Disson.”

“Ah, I suppose that makes… wait, pardon?” Lino gasped, his eyes bulging. He had nearly nodded and agreed, Ah, yes, entirely understandable.

“Sir Disson and I spent nine to ten hours together daily for over a month,” Grondil elaborated clinically. “He merely masturbated in front of me, and I found no mark upon his body. My biology remained utterly unaffected. Yet, after engaging in penetrative sex with you just twice, Lino, my heat cycle completely warped.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Lino vehemently shook his head. “…No mark appeared on my body.”

“I am aware. But…” A dark gleam entered Grondil’s eyes. “Is there any fundamental law stating that the mark must materialize on the exterior skin?”

Lino blinked in confusion just as the Grand King abruptly stood. Deciding it was wildly inappropriate to remain seated while the sovereign of a Grand Principality stood over him, Lino scrambled to rise. However, before he could even straighten his knees, a colossal shadow engulfed him, and Grondil’s looming mass forced him to crash back onto the cushions.

“Y-Your Highness…?”

The shadow had exponentially expanded because Grondil had shifted entirely into his beast form. Despite the room’s tightly sealed windows, Lino felt as though he had been abruptly plunged into a frigid snowstorm, his senses drenched in the biting scent of winter. For a split second, he panicked over the unprovoked transformation, until he remembered their earlier conversation—the beast simply preferred resting in his true skin.

Silhouetted against the glaring ceiling lights, the beast’s expression was obscured by heavy shadows. He radiated a suffocatingly primal aura, entirely living up to his monstrous nature. Yet, proving that his desire for comfort wasn’t merely an excuse, his massive lips had curved into a noticeably relaxed smile. Soaked in the overwhelming winter frost radiating from the creature, Lino stared up in a dizzy haze. Grondil possessed a surreal, godlike beauty in his human shell, but witnessing this magnificent, terrifying beast pushed Lino into an outright hallucination.

“Lino.”

A colossal hand, its razor-sharp claws carefully retracted, firmly clamped around Lino’s jaw and tilted it upward. The palm was so massive it completely engulfed both his cheek and chin. Initially, Lino had been paralyzed by the fear that those talons would shred his flesh, but that terror swiftly dissolved. The fur brushing against his cheek was so obscenely soft that an intrusive, bizarre urge to bury his face into the thick pelt washed over him.

Captivated, Lino stared blankly as Grondil lightly tapped his lips with a massive digit.

“Say ‘ahh’ for me,” the beast commanded smoothly.

“Ah…? Ugh…!”

The moment Lino mindlessly obeyed, a thick, fur-covered finger forcefully shoved past his teeth. He bit down in raw panic. The digit was so monstrously long and thick that it instantly battered against his uvula, plunging violently down his throat. His esophagus convulsed, his gag reflex activating in a desperate attempt to reject the intrusion.

Because his stomach was entirely empty—save for a single pill swallowed dry hours ago—he thankfully didn’t spew up anything unsightly. With his throat constricting and his stomach violently pitching, Lino choked out nothing but a surge of watery saliva. Mercifully, Grondil withdrew the slick, spit-drenched finger. He didn’t drag his claw against the roof of Lino’s mouth or fondle his tongue; the violation had been an entirely clinical, unsexual probe.

He meticulously inspected the finger he had withdrawn from Lino’s mouth before nodding.

“It seems you are no longer bleeding.”

Ah… so he was just checking if I was still bleeding. Understanding Grondil’s intent belatedly, Lino was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he froze. Wait, then does that mean… he’s going to check down below, too?

Tension and wariness slowly crept into Lino’s green eyes.

Tch, he’s not as easy as he looks, Grondil thought, clicking his tongue inwardly as the knight’s eyes, previously wide like freshly sprouted leaves, darkened with suspicion. Yet, he found those darkened green eyes equally captivating. They resembled broad leaves soaking in the midsummer sun of the Southern Kingdom, or perhaps the resilient needles of a northern pine, maintaining their vibrant hue amidst a bitter cold snap. Either way, they were the leaves of a survivor that had weathered extreme trials.

If one carved eyes from Smaragdos, would they be this serene? Grondil mused, recalling the radiant jewel that every beast of Isberg loved above all else. The green gemstone—a symbol of the joy of life, eternal spring, and immutable thirst—sparkled beneath a moist film of water. Even cast in the shadows, devoid of direct light, Grondil felt as though Lino’s green eyes were glowing from within.

He survived the slums and the knight order with eyes like these? Either everyone around him had gone blind, or Lino’s self-defense skills were extraordinarily sharp.

For a long moment, Grondil couldn’t tear his gaze away. When he finally managed to drag his attention downward, it landed on Lino’s chest.

“Hah… Unbelievable.”

“…?”

At the beast’s exasperated sigh, Lino’s tension skyrocketed. The atmosphere grew so thick it wouldn’t have been strange if Grondil had immediately ordered him to strip, bend over, and spread his legs.

“Are… are you going to check down below as well…?” Lino asked, his voice trembling as he sought confirmation.

“Down below? Ah… hmm, down below.”

Muttering words that could have been an answer or merely him talking to himself, Grondil tilted his head. The ceiling light, previously blocked by his massive frame, cascaded between his neck and shoulder, casting a slanted glow over Lino’s face.

As light pierced the shadow trapping Lino, the beast’s brow furrowed. Displeased by the sudden illumination, a low, rumbling growl vibrated in his throat. Moving to cage Lino once more, the beast propped one knee onto the sofa. The encroaching shadow swallowed Lino whole again, and only then did Grondil’s scowl smooth out in satisfaction.

How do I swallow him whole without spilling a single strand of hair?

Grondil toyed with Lino’s fine blond hair, his hand brushing down the knight’s cheek before his fingertip pressed firmly into those flushed lips. The soft, somewhat dry lips yielded under the fur-covered digit, then plumped back to their original fullness when he released them. The massive hand trailed down the line of Lino’s neck to rest on his shoulder. Though his frame was slender for a man, his shoulders were broad. He looked fragile at a glance, but having survived the brutal knotting of a beast, his body was undeniably resilient.

A few more rounds should confirm just how sturdy he is.

Extending a single claw, Grondil flicked the neatly fastened buttons of Lino’s shirt. With a rapid succession of sharp pops, the buttons tore free and scattered across the floor. In an instant, Lino’s bare chest was exposed to Grondil’s ashen gaze. Without hesitation, Grondil’s massive hand completely engulfed Lino’s left breast, squeezing a hefty handful of flesh.

“Ugh… It h-hurts…”

The beast’s grip was so crushing it felt as though his entire left pectoral might be ripped off. It was a miracle Grondil had retracted his claws; otherwise, it would have been a bloody massacre. He squeezed so tightly that the soft flesh bulged out between his thick fingers. Lino assumed the extreme bulging was simply due to Grondil’s monstrous grip strength, but Grondil firmly believed it was because Lino’s chest was unusually plump.

“With a chest like this… even women would weep in envy,” Grondil remarked.

“They have never done so.”

“Even if they have, they won’t have the chance to in the future.” Lowering his head, Grondil dragged his tongue roughly across the nape of Lino’s neck. A distinct, abrasive scrape echoed every time the raspy tongue dragged over the soft skin. As the beast repeatedly licked the same spot, a sharp, stinging pain bloomed.

Grondil jammed his bent knee between Lino’s legs. Lino instinctively scooched his hips back, but the sofa’s depth was limited, proving entirely inadequate to escape Grondil’s sprawling, lengthy limbs. As the hard kneecap, buried beneath soft fur, pressed firmly against Lino’s crotch, the knight drew in a sharp, urgent breath. Grondil subtly rocked his thigh up and down, and a pathetic, stifled whimper tickled the beast’s rounded ears.

Radiant, pale, soft, and completely obscene. 

That was the Grand King’s current assessment of his escort knight. Had Lino heard it, he would have violently objected to being called ‘soft’ and ‘obscene.’

“Ugh, it stings. Hng… ahh…”

Accepting the whimpered complaint, Grondil effortlessly lifted Lino and flipped him around. Startled, Lino scrambled to stand, but before his feet could even touch the floor, he was forced into a kneeling position, facing the sofa’s backrest.

Riiiip, tear—

With a few sharp sounds of rending fabric, Lino was stripped bare, left without a single thread to his name.

“Spread your legs,” Grondil commanded. “I must… verify.”

His tone was impeccably polite, yet the breath pouring over the crown of Lino’s head was ragged and savage. Overwhelmed by the stark contrast, a small, breathless sigh escaped Lino’s lips. So it comes down to this after all. Though he had pretended otherwise, the moment he spotted Grondil sitting on the drawing-room sofa, Lino had anticipated this exact outcome.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t panic at the command. Instead, he obediently parted his knees without hesitation. Taking it a step further, he leaned his upper body forward, pressing his chest and shoulders flat against the backrest. The resulting posture thrust his waist and ass high into the air, as if shamelessly begging Grondil for what was to come.

“…”

Only the beast’s heavy, ragged breathing echoed in the drawing room. Perhaps due to his enlarged, shifted form, each exhalation was massive. A sweltering heat ghosted over Lino’s ass and thighs. Judging by the scalding temperature, Grondil had clearly stepped right up against him.

“…Lino. Am I allowed to interpret this posture however I please?”

If sound possessed a physical temperature, Lino was certain his ears would have suffered third-degree burns from Grondil’s voice alone. He had merely spread his legs and offered up his rear. Yet the beast showered him with scorching breaths, whispering dark promises against his ear.

“You are… going to do it anyway, aren’t you…?” Lino mumbled, his voice shrinking into a pathetic murmur. The man who had practically bled the scent of a frigid winter only moments ago was now radiating heat like boiling magma. In this suspended moment, it wouldn’t have been strange to mistake Grondil for the Emperor of the tropical Southern Derma, rather than the Grand King of the freezing Isberg.

“Haha. I must be entirely blind. How on earth did I ever look at this and see an innocent fledgling?”

“What part of me… made you think I was…?” Flabbergasted that Grondil had ever considered him an innocent fledgling, Lino turned his head to look back over his shoulder.

Their gazes tangled in the air. Struck by the beast’s darkly intense, predatory glare, Lino unconsciously pressed a hand to his lower stomach. A deep ache throbbed in his gut, but it wasn’t pain. Instead, a subtle, pooling heat slowly began expanding its territory. The first part of his body to betray him was the cock dangling between his thighs.

Thank the gods I’m turned around, Lino thought in utter mortification. Had he been facing the Duke, he would have been caught red-handed, popping a rock-hard erection without even being touched, already weeping a damp, circular stain onto the sofa fabric.

Meeting Lino’s gaze, Grondil felt his own mouth run desert-dry, forcing him to flick his tongue out repeatedly. He had just likened Lino’s vibrant green eyes to a life-brimming Smaragdos, yet now, those very eyes felt as if they were scorching his lifeline to ash. A bizarre, delirious delusion seized him—if he didn’t absolutely ravage Lino this exact second, his entire body would spontaneously combust and burn to death.

The locked gaze snapped. Without either prompting the other, both lowered their eyes simultaneously. Lino’s gaze plummeted and snagged on Grondil’s violently erected, monstrous cock.

How… how can something look so utterly vicious?

It was his first time seeing the beast’s fully engorged cock under bright lighting, and Lino was completely paralyzed by the sheer horror of the grotesque weapon destined to breach him. Words like ‘thick’ or ‘long’ were woefully inadequate. It boasted a girth impossible to wrap a single hand around, and a length so obscene he couldn’t fathom how he had taken it all the way to the hilt. Dark, bruised-red and purplish veins coiled around the massive shaft like thick ropes.

As Lino stared, unable to look away, the towering erection seemed to pulse and stretch even longer, thrusting upward as if trying to bury itself in the beast’s own stomach fur. From the wide, rounded slit, crystal-clear pre-cum continuously beaded up and wept down the monstrous column.

Taking a deliberate step closer, Grondil wrapped one hand around his own cock and stroked it. It was a slow, agonizingly deliberate motion, yet the beast’s shaft instantly became slick and glossy, letting out a wet, obscene schlick.

Before Lino could blink, Grondil was flush against his back, his massive free hand clamping down on Lino’s ass. Next to his chest, Lino’s perfectly rounded, lifted ass was incredibly plump, making it the perfect handful of flesh for the beast to violently knead. Thick fingers dug ruthlessly into the cleft. He hadn’t used a single drop of oil or lube, yet Lino’s intimate entrance was already dripping wet. After Grondil firmly pressed against it a few times, the hole gaped open with a wet pop, eagerly welcoming the intruding digit. The mysterious slick pooled inside soaked the fur on Grondil’s knuckles.

In a flash, the beast added more fingers, brutally stretching Lino’s inner walls. The scorching, drenched canal clamped down around Grondil’s digits relentlessly. Before long, four fingers were buried knuckle-deep inside Lino’s hole, pistoning in and out at a rapid, punishing pace. The wet, plunging fingers produced a filthy, slapping sound as they mashed the soft ass cheeks.

My body feels strange.

The throbbing ache that had been pooling in his lower belly began migrating upward. Even before actual insertion, it felt as though his internal organs were being aggressively displaced. Unable to help himself, Lino pressed hard against his own stomach, panting raggedly.

“The medicine must be highly effective. You aren’t bleeding down here either.”

At Grondil’s casual confirmation that there was no blood, Lino’s entire body shuddered violently. To Lino, it sounded less like a medical observation and more like a terrifying declaration: Since you aren’t bleeding and you’ve fully healed, I can smash into you as hard as I please. It was a reassurance meant entirely for the beast’s own peace of mind, not his.

As Lino arched his waist even further back in anticipation, Grondil grabbed one of his legs and folded it, planting the knee onto the sofa. Forced to balance his entire body weight on a single knee, Lino frantically clawed at the sofa’s backrest for stability. Grondil’s massive forearm settled right beside Lino’s white-knuckled grip. From the nape of his neck all the way down to his thighs, the blistering heat of the beast enveloped him like a heavy, fur-lined blanket.

Then, thump—something impossibly heavy and blunt knocked against the cleft of his ass. Thump. Thump. Every time the blunt head struck his skin and pulled away, a sickeningly wet smack echoed in the room. It was impossible to tell whether the obscene moisture amplifying the sound came from the beast’s weeping cock, or the slick pouring out of Lino’s hole as it desperately begged for penetration.

Grondil gripped his heavy, bobbing shaft and roughly slapped it against the valley of Lino’s ass. The swollen, dark-crimson glans dragged violently from his tailbone all the way up his spine. Grondil briefly pondered if his cock was too absurdly long to just violently ram into Lino’s body, but the memory of Lino greedily swallowing him to the root, sucking him deep inside, immediately shattered that hesitation.

His vision went completely red. The back of his eyes burned with a searing heat. He needed to erupt, to empty this scalding magma right now.

The shaft that had been bruising Lino’s spine and cheeks slid down, parting the plump flesh, and pressed brutally against the tightly sealed entrance. The moment the heavily puckered hole began to swallow the glans, its wrinkles were instantly ironed completely flat.

Grondil grabbed one ass cheek, aggressively spreading it wide, and shoved his cock inside. The hole, trembling as it sucked in the monstrous tip, yielded a minuscule opening. As Grondil slowly drove his hips forward to complete the insertion, Lino, who had been completely silent, let out a frail, broken moan.

“Hngg…”

“Relax,” Grondil whispered smoothly, gently caressing the cheek he had just bruised with his grip. “How can you clamp down so tightly when you’re dripping this much water inside? Truly, I’ll never understand. Not even a professional whore could leak this much. Why can’t you take it? I won’t force you to swallow it all in one bite, so just breathe and take it. You can do it, can’t you? You swallowed me to the root and milked me dry last time, so why all this pathetic crying?”

The beast’s low, gravelly baritone burrowed deep into Lino’s eardrums. His hole felt as though it was being ripped apart rather than simply stretched, yet the filthy, degrading dirty talk only skyrocketed his arousal. The low voice struck his brain so directly he couldn’t even process the words immediately. The beast’s rumbling, animalistic growl was so terrifyingly erotic, and the hot, damp breaths tickling his skin sent such violent shivers down his spine, that his hole instinctively clamped down even harder around the massive intrusion, refusing to yield.

“It h-hurts. Ugh, ngh… it hurts. Your Highness, hnggg…”

Confirming he had buried more than half a hand’s span inside, Grondil released the ass cheek he had been prying open and reached around to grab Lino’s rock-hard cock, which was currently weeping streams of pre-cum.

“If it hurts so much, why is this standing at strict attention?”

“Ah…!”

Grabbing the base of Lino’s cock, Grondil clamped his fist down and violently jerked his hand upward.

“Ah, I’m going to—! Hng, no. Don’t… hik, ah, ahh!!”

Lino’s bowed head snapped backward as a high, piercing shriek tore from his throat. With a single, brutal stroke of Grondil’s hand, thick, pearlescent cum erupted, splattering heavily against the sofa’s backrest.

Haa. 

A frustrated sigh ripped from Grondil’s lips. He hadn’t even inserted half of his length, yet Lino’s internal walls were crushing down so intensely they felt ready to snap his cock in half. Should I just ram it to the hilt right now? A violent, savage impulse surged through him, but he forcibly bit it back. Instead, his hand became a blur, violently jerking Lino’s sensitive, post-orgasmic cock. He was utterly merciless, pumping as if determined to wring out every last microscopic drop of semen left in the knight’s balls.

“Wait, wait hngg! Y-Your Highness. I just came, ah, ahh… please just let me rest, nn, ngh! Hnggg!”

Aftercare was an unimaginable luxury. To carve a deeper path into the erratic, convulsing walls, Grondil began thrusting his hips. As unwanted, agonizing pleasure was ruthlessly stacked atop the hyper-sensitive aftermath of his orgasm, Lino’s body violently rejected the sensory overload, thrashing wildly.

“Good boy. You’re doing so well.”

Using the cocktail of Lino’s internal slick and his own weeping pre-cum as lubricant, Grondil forced his way even deeper into the tight crevice. Lino’s toes curled and splayed frantically, perfectly mirroring the agonizing tug-of-war between pain and blinding pleasure. The knuckles of the hands clawing at the sofa rapidly cycled between stark white and flushed red. His bowed neck and ears burned a deep crimson. Even his sharply bent elbows and rounded knees were tinted with a feverish pink flush.

Watching him unravel was a feast that made Grondil’s mouth water. The beast flicked out a long tongue, dragging it hungrily up the nape of Lino’s neck. The beads of sweat dotting the pale skin clung to his tongue. Sweat was supposed to be salty, yet bizarrely, it tasted overwhelmingly sweet.

Feeling a tight, almost painful pressure in his brain, the beast moved up to lick Lino’s blond hair. Unbelievably, that was sweet, too. It tasted like spun sugar coated in honey and dusted with gold flakes. It was so overwhelmingly cloying that Grondil suffered a brief, delirious delusion—that his escort knight wasn’t a human man at all, but a divine confection crafted from every sweet indulgence in the world.

“Hik! Ugh… ahh, ngh, haa! Ah!”

Lost in a trance, Grondil licked every inch of Lino he could reach. At some point, his pelvic bone began slamming brutally against Lino’s ass cheeks. Perhaps because of the sheer depth of the intrusion, a tight, suppressed agony began lacing its way into Lino’s breathy moans.

It was around here, I think.

Recalling the uniquely tight membrane that had capped his glans last time, Grondil launched into rapid, shallow thrusts. However, he couldn’t feel that distinct barrier. Was it the angle? Fucking from behind typically allowed for deeper penetration, but the damn sofa backrest was hindering his leverage, preventing him from hitting that exact spot.

“Hiik!!”

Lino, whose brain was entirely fried as he clawed at the sofa and desperately tried to accommodate Grondil’s massive cock, violently flinched. The monstrous intrusion that had been buried so deep suddenly yanked completely out, sending a jolt through Lino as if he’d been struck by lightning. Trembling like a live wire, Lino’s limp body was effortlessly snatched up and spun around like a ragdoll until he was sitting, facing Grondil.

“Your… Highness? What are you…?”

As Lino panted out the question, Grondil offered no verbal reply. Instead, he hooked his massive hands under Lino’s knees and hoisted him straight up into the air. The body that had been draped over the sofa was suddenly airborne, his upper torso falling backward. Panicking with nothing to lean on, Lino desperately threw his arms around Grondil’s thick neck. His entire body was instantly enveloped in the beast’s scorching, feverish fur.

“If you don’t want to fall, wrap your legs around my waist.”

“Hng, yes, y-yes.”

The second the command was issued, Lino clamped his legs around the beast’s waist. But Grondil was so monstrously thick that Lino’s inner thighs screamed in protest at the extreme stretch. Despite flexing every muscle in his thighs and calves, he couldn’t cross his ankles to secure a stable grip. Terrified of falling, he squeezed his arms around Grondil’s neck even tighter.

The thick arm supporting Lino’s ass dipped slightly, and Lino immediately felt the monstrous glans press bluntly against his gaping, thoroughly abused hole. Shivering violently, Lino’s hips jerked upward in a futile attempt to escape. But his over-stretched thighs lacked the strength to hold him up, forcing him to sink right back down and swallow the massive tip once more. Because of the sheer angle of the drop, it felt vividly as though his internal folds were being wedged even further apart.

“Lino.”

“…Yes.”

Grondil called his name calmly, leaving only the very tip of his glans buried in the tight entrance. Lino obediently answered.

“Erin mentioned something interesting.”

“Hnn… gh, yes…”

The juncture between them stretched wider.

“She posited a theory… Haa… as to how a Letia, despite being a male entity, is capable of conception. Would you like to hear it?”

“A-ahh… Why are you… telling me… hng, ngh.”

As his body continuously slipped downward, gravity forced the monstrous cock deeper into his core. Startled by the sharp, piercing sting, Lino jerked his hips up, only to inevitably sink back down and get impaled even deeper. Caught in that agonizing cycle, Lino couldn’t even formulate the thought to ask why on earth he needed to hear this theory right now.

“Hnn, ngh… ahh, haa…”

The absurdly thick column, swollen tight with violent arousal, scraped ruthlessly against his prostate as it invaded. As the ambiguous, borderline-painful pleasure finally took distinct shape and began pummeling his internal walls, Lino’s stifled, broken whimpers morphed into round, wet moans. Perhaps his body remembered the devastating orgasms it had experienced before, because Lino’s waist began to roll entirely on its own. Using the unyielding, massive cock lodged inside him—the very cock that refused to thrust properly—as a living dildo, Lino desperately chased his own pleasure.

“Goodness… you survived in a den of males with a body like this?”

“Hnn, what… what do you mean… hik! Haa… ahh…”

Lino clamped his thighs around Grondil’s waist, relaxing and tightening his grip as his body bounced. He desperately wanted to move more forcefully, yet the sheer terror of taking the beast too deeply kept him restricted to shallow, squirming grinds. Willingly grinding his own sweet spot against the intrusion felt incredible, but it was nowhere near enough. It was agonizingly insufficient.

“Your… Highness… I… please… nn, hnng.” Lino gasped out the title, practically begging.

Yet Grondil merely offered a smiling glance, seamlessly continuing his previous train of thought. “Erin hypothesized that for a male to conceive, he would need to possess a womb, much like a female.”

“Hngg… pardon? A womb…?”

Why would a man have a womb? 

Unsatisfied heat pooled heavy and thick in Lino’s head from the agonizing, teasing pleasure. He heard the beast’s words, but his comprehension completely shattered into disconnected fragments.

“Lino, when I buried myself inside you last time… my tip brushed against something that shouldn’t have been there. Do you recall?”

“W-what are you, hng… nn, haa… ahh!” Having seemingly found the perfect angle to maximize his pleasure, Lino completely abandoned the conversation, his hips rolling in a desperate, obscene grind.

“Truly unbelievable,” Grondil murmured. “Who would ever believe your ass was a virgin until recently? You look like a thoroughly ruined whore.”

Grondil hoisted up the whimpering knight, who was clinging to him and writhing in a frantic bid for deeper friction. Tapping Lino’s limbs to command a tighter grip, the beast clamped both massive hands firmly around Lino’s waist. The taut, well-defined ridges of Lino’s abdominal muscles pressed against his fingertips. Securing his iron grip, Grondil leaned in and whispered to the panting man.

“Tuck your tongue in.”

“Pardon…?”

Why my tongue? The question never escaped his lips. The moment that single, confused syllable slipped out, he was violently impaled downward.

“!!”

Lino’s entire body went rigid from the catastrophic shock before breaking into violent tremors. Unable to process the agonizing pain overflowing his senses, Lino thrashed helplessly in Grondil’s embrace. The beast held him tightly for a brief moment, waiting for the shock to settle.

“Haa… Fuck… my cock is going to snap,” the beast growled, grinding his teeth. A filthy curse erupted from lips that normally only spilled degrading dirty talk, never raw profanity. “You didn’t bite your tongue, did you?”

“Hng, hik… Ahh, I’m torn… I must be torn apart…” Lino sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered.

Grondil laughed, dismissing the ridiculous notion entirely. “Haha. Lino, even if I wanted to tear your hole, I couldn’t. Not when you’re leaking this much water.”

“It h-hurts. It hurts so much, Your Highness, hngg.”

“Hmm… shall I go a bit gentler, then?”

“Y-yes. Yes. Agh… please, yes.” At the promise of gentleness, Lino nodded frantically.

“Then stop calling me ‘Your Highness’ and say my name,” Grondil commanded.

“Your… name?”

“Yes. Call me Grondil.”

Blinking through his tear-drenched lashes, Lino stared at the beast. His gaze was heavy with dual implications: How could I dare address the Grand King of Isberg by his name? and Why should I have to?

Displeased by that defiant hesitation, Grondil seized Lino’s waist and ruthlessly yanked him upward.

“Hiiiik!” Lino shuddered violently at the horrifying sensation of his internal organs plummeting.

Having pulled his cock out until only the frenulum remained inside, the beast slammed his hips forward, driving back in with a wet, devastating thwack!

“Aaaagh!”

The monstrous tip gouged far deeper than before. Glazed in slick pre-cum, the beast ruthlessly bulldozed a path through the tightly clamped canal. He didn’t bother demanding his name a second time. Emitting a low, intensely satisfied groan, Grondil effortlessly hoisted Lino up and slammed him down over and over again.

Hik—! Ah! Hng! Sounds that toed the line between agonized death rattles and ecstatic shrieks erupted in tandem with the sickeningly loud, wet slaps of flesh on flesh.

“It hurts, ah! It hurts…!”

“I highly doubt it’s just pain. If it were only painful, you wouldn’t be soaking my stomach like this, would you?” Reaching up, Grondil pried one of Lino’s hands from his neck and forced it down, pressing the knight’s palm against his own cock—which was currently being crushed and friction-fucked between their grinding stomachs.

“Ah…”

When did I… come? Lino stared blankly at the thick semen coating his hand. Exactly as Grondil had said, his cock had thoroughly drenched the beast’s fur and was still weakly spurting milky white fluid.

“If you say my name, I can fuck you so well it’ll drive you mad.”

“…”

Lino remained silent, staring mutely at the semen on his hand. Because his head was bowed, his expression and the look in his eyes were hidden. Yet Grondil didn’t need to see his face to know exactly what was running through his mind. Judging by the bright crimson flush staining Lino’s earlobes and nape, those tear-filled green eyes were undoubtedly trembling with internal conflict. The knight was suspended between the sheer terror of the agonizing pain that deeper penetration would bring, and the desperate craving for the euphoric pleasure that would serve as his reward for enduring it.

To assist Lino, who was merely parting his lips in silent hesitation, Grondil subtly jerked his hips upward.

“Hngg!”

The obscenely thick shaft ruthlessly crushed against the swollen prostate. In response, a fresh surge of semen—fluid Lino had thought was entirely depleted—spurted over the glans, trailing diagonally to plaster against Grondil’s ashen fur.

“Gr…” A tiny, fragile sound escaped the knight’s quivering lips.

Rather than rushing him, Grondil patiently patted Lino’s back. He gently kneaded the nape of Lino’s neck, traced the deep groove of his spine, and finally pressed down firmly right above the tailbone. Hngg. The light pressure compressed his internal organs, forcing out an involuntary moan, followed quickly by the heavy, audible gulp of Lino swallowing his saliva.

Wiping his semen-slicked hand against the thick fur on Grondil’s chest, Lino wrapped his arms tightly around the beast’s neck. He clung to Grondil with desperate strength, securing his posture to ensure he wouldn’t fall. Burying his face into the crook of the beast’s neck, he whispered, “Lord… Grondil.”

“Yes, Lino.”

“Lord Grondil.”

“Hmm? What can I do for you? Tell me what you want, whatever it may be.”

Whatever it may be? Lino simply breathed in silence, processing the word ‘whatever’ as if he were hearing it for the very first time in his life.

“There is no need to overcomplicate things with that little head of yours,” Grondil coaxed. “What do you desire? I lack the talent to resurrect corpses or cure terminal illnesses, but keeping one person perfectly safe is hardly a challenge.”

“You can… protect me?” Lino’s eyes went perfectly round, desperately seeking confirmation of what he had just heard.

“You know exactly where the safest place on the Terne Continent is, so why bother asking?”

“…Isberg?”

Grondil chuckled, nodding in affirmation. As the beast’s lips curled upward, his long, razor-sharp fangs were fully exposed. It was a terrifying sight, yet Lino, his face blank and unblinking, leaned closer to the monstrous visage as if completely bewitched.

His lips pressed firmly against the edge of the beast’s muzzle before pulling away. The protruding, animalistic jaw made a proper kiss seem impossible, so he simply planted a soft peck on the fur just above the exposed fangs.

“…”

A strange, vibrant light flickered within Grondil’s blue-gray eyes. They brightened with sheer shock before instantly darkening with deep contemplation. What exactly is this little succubus doing? The beast’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing his companion.

Stared down by the beast, Lino frantically reviewed his own impulsive action. 

Was that wrong? 

Had Grondil been in his human form, Lino would have kissed his lips, or at the very least, his cheek. But right now, the Duke was a magnificent, terrifying beast. Attempting a real kiss was daunting—he had no idea where the lips truly began or ended. Attempting a simple peck was equally confusing—he couldn’t figure out what qualified as a ‘cheek’ on that muzzle. Moreover, the thick layer of fur completely muted the physical sensation of the kiss entirely.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t think of what to ask for. He simply couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Who was he to beg for protection from Baron Haklan? And considering his memories of this exact moment were destined to be erased anyway, he couldn’t possibly demand to be taken to Isberg. Those two desires were the greatest aspirations of his entire life, yet neither was something he dared ask Grondil for first.

Yet, Grondil had spoken first, as if he possessed the ability to peer straight into the depths of Lino’s heart.

Lino, I will consider your deception forgiven with this. Lino recalled the exact words Grondil had uttered during their previous encounter. Forgiving his deception meant severing the toxic dynamic where sex was demanded under the guise of punishment.

That meant their current intimacy was born entirely from mutual, burning desire. There were no debts, no underlying guilt. While their statuses and physical forms were lightyears apart, Lino believed this simple display of affection was a permissible honesty between them. Of course, it was an absolute certainty that all these memories would eventually be wiped clean, and he would be expelled from Isberg. But none of that mattered right now. He desperately wanted to repay the man who had offered his protection without even being asked.

Lino mentally cataloged everything he owned. In less than a second, he accepted the agonizing reality that he had absolutely nothing to give. He possessed no divine power, no home, no money, no employment, and no family. His physical body was his sole belonging in this world. And so, Lino resolved to offer his only remaining asset to Grondil.

Because he’s a beast. If a human kiss was logistically impossible, he would simply have to do it the beast’s way.

Sticking out his tongue, Lino dragged it slowly across Grondil’s damp nose. The beast’s narrowed eyes flew wide open in sheer astonishment. Seeing absolutely no disgust or displeasure in that blue-gray gaze, Lino gathered his courage and licked the massive jaw next. The coarse fur tickled his tongue, but as he buried his nose into the pelt and continued his affectionate grooming, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrated from above.

“Lino.”

“Y-yes?” Lino answered, awkwardly chewing on the fur that had ended up in his mouth.

In response, Grondil dragged his own impossibly long tongue up Lino’s cheek, reciprocating the grooming as the knight continued to wet his lower jaw with saliva.

“I will take you to Isberg and protect you. In exchange, Lino, you are going to gorge yourself on my seed right here.”

“Ah…”

“And it would be even better if you got pregnant.”

“Pardon…? What does that—”

Lino’s question was never finished. The beast’s tongue forcefully parted his lips and aggressively invaded his mouth, completely filling it. Mmph, ngh! The stifled, muffled moans couldn’t escape and were entirely swallowed by Grondil. Before long, breathless, euphoric shrieks and the obscene, wet slaps of flesh violently crashing together merged into a chaotic symphony, turning the air in the drawing room heavy and damp.

***