“I just want to cuddle!”
“What’s so good about that?”
“If I don’t cuddle, I’ll die!”
“You won’t die.”
“I will! I really will!”
“Compared to keeping your oath, would you rather do those filthy things and sully my name?”
“I don’t want to either! But there’s nothing I can do about it!”
“But I said no! No matter what, you absolutely cannot go to those places anymore!”
“If I don’t go to the brothels, then Lady Cecilia, please cuddle me!”
The moment those words slipped out, not only did Cecilia freeze, but even Rita herself was startled by what she’d just said.
After a moment to gather her thoughts, she realized just how many offensive and shameless things she had blurted out—and how many could expose her true identity.
Just picking a few of those phrases would be enough for Cecilia to have her strung up at the city gates!
How could she have become so impulsive?
Cecilia’s face turned shades of blue and red, clenching her teeth but unable to utter a single word for a long time.
Who had ever dared to talk to her like that since they were young?
Did she have a death wish?
But Cecilia realized that, for some reason, her tolerance for Rita was unusually high.
If it had been anyone else, even if they dared to haggle with her, she wouldn’t have given them the chance.
There were many dissolute playboys among the Holy Knights with chaotic private lives, and Cecilia had seen her fair share.
But most would brush off such situations with vague words and sneak off to repeat their offenses in secret.
Rita could have done the same, but instead, she seriously bargained with Cecilia over something so utterly improper.
That girl really was… carefree.
Especially that last line—it could be considered a direct insult to the entire royal family.
Yet deep inside, Cecilia felt a strange emotion stir.
Perhaps… a secret delight?
Maybe it was because this was the first time Cecilia truly felt needed—not as the Fourth Princess, but as herself.
Or maybe it was simply because the atmosphere tonight was so good that, even before taking a sip of wine, Cecilia felt intoxicated under the flickering candlelight.
The silence lingered, with Rita lowering her head, unable to apologize, fixated on the carpet, while Cecilia also looked down, her pupils reflecting Rita’s silent form.
Finally, Cecilia muttered an ambiguous response, brushing the matter aside—something that could have been either major or trivial.
“Tell me when you need it.”
Rita exhaled in relief but immediately began doubting whether Cecilia’s words were sincere.
Was it really over?
So what did “tell me when you need it” mean?
Was it what she thought it meant?
Her heart fluttered, unable to read Cecilia’s thoughts.
But somehow, Cecilia seemed especially forgiving tonight.
Rita didn’t know where her courage had come from, daring to push further and further like this.
Then a little more over the top, maybe that would be fine?
Her intuition told her she could—and should—do so.
“Actually… I really need it tonight…”
As it turned out, pushing her luck worked, and Rita’s hunger was indeed eased quite a bit.
But the way it happened was completely different from what she had imagined.
To be clear, Rita was absolutely not a masochist, but being made to kiss Cecilia’s toes with humiliation while being stared at with utter disdain gave her a strange sensation.
Why the toes? Because Cecilia absolutely forbade Rita from touching anything above the knees!
Getting some relief from hunger was already good enough; Rita didn’t need anything more.
Rita also realized it wasn’t simply the cuddling that eased her hunger, but rather the abstract feelings, desires, or impulses generated between them during the act.
What exactly those were, Rita couldn’t say.
In any case, after being sated, Rita finally slept soundly.
But the good sleep only lasted until dawn, when she was woken by a maid shaking her gently.
“Lady Rita, the Princess wants you to come over in a bit.” The maid left the message with a mischievous, teasing smile, clearly enjoying waking Rita up.
Rita initially thought something urgent had happened with Cecilia, but it turned out she was just assigned to be the princess’s personal guard during breakfast.
In other words, Cecilia and Anges sat at the table eating, and Rita stood nearby watching.
Looking at the exquisitely plated dishes, Rita kept telling herself: sour, bitter, not tasty!
Cecilia and Anges chatted back and forth about recent events in the city and the next steps in the Holy Knight assessment.
Rita wasn’t completely clueless—Cecilia didn’t have the sole purpose of disturbing her sleep just to have her stand guard, but was using this as a way to convey information.
Just before breakfast ended, a soldier in uniform entered the dining hall and whispered something into Anges’s ear, causing a sudden change in his expression.
“Lord Anges, what happened?” Cecilia put down her fork and wiped sauce from the corner of her mouth with a napkin, clearly finished eating.
Anges deflected: “It’s nothing, just some news from the city.”
“The messenger isn’t a maid but a soldier. This must be serious. May I hear it as well?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Anges ordered the soldier, “Repeat what you just told me to the Princess.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The soldier saluted sharply. “Last night in Solus City, two people were attacked—one in a western alley, one near the south city gate. Both men were civilians unrelated to the Holy Knight assessment. It’s highly suspected to be the work of the Incubi…”
Two men?
Rita’s mind filled with questions, but she suppressed them.
Now was not the time to be alone with Cecilia.
The soldier’s report continued for a while before Cecilia’s pursed lips parted once more.
“Lord Anges, your position as city lord is already precarious.”
“Princess, I do not wish to shirk responsibility for what’s happening in the city, but I have strengthened the defenses recently. However…” Anges hastened to explain, his face darkening.
“It seems Lord Anges is aware that during the Holy Knight assessment, so many incidents occurred in Solus City. Even if I don’t pursue this, others will use it to stir trouble.”
Anges nodded deeply but remained silent.
“The assessment is over; attacking candidates now serves no purpose. The Incubi do not need daily hunts. This is undoubtedly a provocation directed at me—because of what I said yesterday. Lord Anges is merely caught in the crossfire, but cannot be entirely absolved.” Cecilia continued, “Their goal is to muddy the waters, but in murky waters, it’s easier to catch a big fish.”
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