You, My Devil - Chapter 15

“Mm…”

When Heina shyly extended her soft tongue, Yuri froze momentarily, his body stiffening in surprise. As her tongue lightly brushed against his teeth, he gradually began to respond to her hesitant kiss.

Though the water was long gone, their lips remained locked, neither willing to break away. Yuri’s cool tongue entwined with hers, and his large, rough hand gently cupped her cheek.

He began to nibble softly on her plump lower lip, then her upper lip, suckling tenderly as if savoring them. A ticklish moan escaped from Heina’s lips.

“Haah…”

His kisses grew more intense, their tongues tangling sweetly as saliva mixed between them. Heina didn’t resist; she accepted him completely, melting into his touch. The sensation of his cool, wet tongue against hers was both refreshing and electrifying, sending shivers down her spine.

Her breaths quickened as she felt her body heat up in response. Slowly, her golden lashes fluttered open, and her amber eyes blinked lazily.

“…Looks like you’re feeling better now,” came Yuri’s familiar deep voice, breaking the silence as his lips finally parted from hers.

Th “The moment you decide to flee, you’re so determined, but now that you’re on the brink of death, you cling to me?”

Yuri’s sharp, cold words pierced through Heina’s muddled thoughts like an arrow.

‘…This can’t be real.’

She stared at him with a vacant expression, blinking slowly as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

“What was that just now?”

Her vision finally focused, and she was greeted by Yuri’s smirking face right in front of her. His lips twitched in amusement as he mocked her.

‘Dear gods….’

Heina couldn’t bear it and shut her eyes tightly. The person who had kissed her in what she thought was a dream wasn’t her savior, Arzen, but this devil—Yuri.

Against the backdrop of a crimson sun sinking below the horizon, the red-haired demon teased her with a wicked grin. His voice, lower and more menacing than usual, reached her ears like a chilling whisper.

“I told you not to get yourself hurt. When did I ever say it was okay to run away?”

No, this couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream—just a cruel, twisted nightmare.

Mumbling to herself with her eyes still shut, Heina tried to convince herself.

“This… this is a dream, right?”

“Who knows? You’ll find out once you wake up,” Yuri replied nonchalantly.

With that, he hoisted her limp body into his arms as if she weighed nothing. One arm cradled her securely, while his other hand grasped the reins of his horse. Slowly, he began to walk across the sand dunes, the horizon glowing faintly with the last light of the setting sun.

In the distance, smoke rose faintly against the darkening sky, signaling a place where they might rest.

“Put me down. I can walk on my own,” Heina protested weakly, her hoarse voice barely audible as her feeble hand pushed against his shoulder.

Yuri tightened his grip around her.

“I’m too tired to entertain your stubbornness today,” he said, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion.

“….”

“So just stay like this for a while.”

As they trudged forward, Yuri muttered those words quietly, almost to himself. The wind blew past them, tickling her nose as it swirled through the air.

Oddly enough, Heina felt as if her body were floating on clouds, weightless and detached from the world. Safe in Yuri’s arms, her tense body finally gave in, and she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

“Gasp…”

How long had she been asleep? Heina’s eyes snapped open. Her entire body felt heavy, like soaked laundry weighed down with water. Struggling to sit up, she surveyed her dimly lit surroundings.

She was lying on a small bed in a modest room. The faint glow of a candle illuminated sparse furnishings that were unfamiliar to her.

‘Where… am I?’

As her thoughts scrambled to piece things together, the faint aroma of food wafted through the slightly open door. The smell of soup, rich and warm, drifted toward her, and before her mind could process it, her stomach growled loudly in response.

Grrrrrk!

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even though no one was there to hear it.

‘I don’t have time for this…’

Blinking rapidly, Heina tried to recall what had happened. Her last memory was of fleeing from Yuri’s group with all her strength after their unexpected ambush.

No, that wasn’t it. The last thing she remembered was wandering lost in the desert, collapsing from dehydration… and then—

Her breath caught as she clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide with realization.

‘He came for me!’

The image of Yuri’s vivid red hair, burning like the sun as it sank below the horizon, flashed through her mind. She could still see the smirk on his face as he looked down at her, his hair swept by the desert winds, mocking her helplessness.

Leaning back against the wall, Heina scowled, berating herself for falling into his grasp.

‘I thought I saw Arzen in my dream… but that was just wishful thinking. In the end, it wasn’t real.’

She had no memory of how she had arrived here. Her mind was blank after the moment she collapsed in the desert. Biting her fingernails anxiously, Heina frowned.

Grrrroooowl!

Her stomach groaned again, more insistent this time, snapping her out of her thoughts. She decided to go outside. Figuring out where she was could wait until she dealt with the gnawing hunger that threatened to overpower her. She was so famished that she would’ve gladly picked food off the ground if necessary.

Creak—

Rising from the bed, Heina cautiously pushed the wooden door open. The room beyond was brightly lit and appeared to be a combined kitchen and dining area. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the large pot bubbling over a fire.

She didn’t know what was inside, but it was clearly food. The aroma was unmistakable, and she could see steam rising from the pot.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. Moving quietly, Heina tiptoed toward the large pot, her steps as silent as possible. Just as she reached out—

Thud!

Startled by the unfamiliar noise, Heina whipped around. In the part of the room hidden from her view earlier, a plain wooden round table came into sight. Yuri sat there, casually biting into a piece of bread and ladling spoonfuls of soup into his mouth. His sharp gaze was locked onto her as he ate, his presence unmistakable.

With a metallic clang, Yuri tapped the edge of the table with a steel cup, drawing her full attention.

“Don’t tell me you were about to steal food?” he asked, leaning lazily against the back of his chair, one arm draped over the side.

Heina froze in place, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

“Steal food? Wh-who would—!”

She stammered over her words, mentally cursing herself for sounding so unconvincing. Her lips quivered in frustration as Yuri’s lips curled into a sly grin.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. After all, it’d be funny to see a former royal of Constance—someone so obsessed with propriety and etiquette—reduced to stealing food, even as a slave.”

With deliberate mockery, Yuri dipped his bread into the steaming soup and took a large, noisy bite, chewing obnoxiously as his piercing gaze stayed fixed on her.

Grrrrrk!

Another loud rumble erupted from Heina’s stomach, and her face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. She wished she could bury herself alive, her shame compounded by her body’s relentless demand for food.

“If you’re that hungry, why don’t you come over and eat?” Yuri teased, crooking his finger at her with a smirk.

Heina clenched her fists tightly, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to throw aside her pride and dive headfirst into the food. She swallowed hard and forced out a weak response.

“I-I’m fine. I don’t need it.”

As she spoke, her throat felt painfully dry, and a soft gulp escaped her lips. Just then, the door on the opposite side of the room burst open, and someone bustled in with cheerful energy.

“Oh my, oh my! You’re awake, I see. You must be starving after sleeping for half the day! Come, sit down. I’ll ladle you a nice bowl of soup. The potatoes here are the best you’ll find anywhere in Nike, you know.”

A plump, cheerful woman with her dark hair tied up neatly bustled over to Heina and gently ushered her toward the table.

“She said she didn’t want any,” Yuri muttered, glancing lazily at Heina as she was seated across from him. His tone was playful, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

The woman ignored him entirely and continued chattering as she bustled around.

“My, my, look at Yuri’s plate! Completely clean, as always. You must’ve been starving too. Let me give you more—here, hand me your plate!”

“No need. Who said I wanted seconds?” Yuri grumbled, scowling as he pushed his plate away. “I only choked it down because I had no choice. Your cooking is as awful as ever.”

“Hohoho, that clean plate of yours says otherwise,” the woman teased, laughing lightly as she whisked his plate away. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed a bit since you were a boy. Still the same picky eater!”

“And your terrible cooking skills haven’t improved one bit either. I pity the poor man who’ll have to eat this for the rest of his life.”

The woman merely chuckled at his barbs, her demeanor unbothered as she moved back and forth between the table and the kitchen.

Heina, caught off guard by their banter, watched them in silence until a steaming bowl of soup and a slice of bread were placed in front of her.

“Here you go. Eat up while it’s hot. It’s made with fresh cheese, so it’s especially delicious!”

Heina’s hunger was so overpowering that her mind went blank. She had no strength left to argue or resist. She picked up the spoon without hesitation.

“Go on, eat while it’s warm. It’ll help your digestion,” the woman encouraged warmly.

Without a second thought, Heina dug in, spooning the hot soup into her mouth as quickly as her hands could move.

“That’s the most I’ve ever seen you eat. What a sight,” Yuri commented dryly, his smirk deepening as he watched her devour the food.

“Yuri, if you’re going to give a compliment, do it properly,” the woman scolded, shaking her head.

“Who said I was complimenting her?” Yuri retorted with a scoff.

“You hate it when people pick at their food, don’t you?”

“In a land like Nike, where food is scarce, it’s only natural. A compliment? Don’t make me laugh…”

“Enough chatter. Here, have some more.”

The conversation between Yuri and the woman barely registered in Heina’s ears. She was too overwhelmed by the taste of the potato soup to pay attention. She had never been particularly fond of potatoes before, but at that moment, they tasted like the most exquisite delicacy.

The warmth of the soup sliding down her throat was divine, and even the slightly tough rye bread was satisfying in a way that delighted her taste buds.

As she ate ravenously, a man—referred to earlier as “the old man”—returned from outside. He greeted Yuri with a bow so deep his head nearly touched the ground.

“It’s a relief to see you safe, Lord Yuri.”

“You said that yesterday too. Is old age robbing you of your memory?”

Yuri’s tone was brusque, but his faint smirk made it clear he was at ease.

“I’ll go hunting tomorrow, so please rest while I’m gone. I’ll make sure to bring back some meat for dinner…”

“Forget it. Waiting for Kun to succeed in a hunt takes longer than raising sheep in Constance. We’ll be leaving at dawn tomorrow,” Yuri replied, brushing his disheveled hair back as he pushed aside an empty second plate.

Heina was still focused on her single bowl of soup, determined to savor every drop.

“So soon? Can’t you stay a few more days and regain your strength before leaving? Once you reach Constance, life will only get tougher…”

“Listening to an old woman’s nagging is harder for me. So stop fussing and bring out the stash of wine you’re hiding.”

“Hoho, how do you always know? My husband made a batch of rice wine last month, and it’s just reached its peak flavor!”

As Heina’s bowl neared empty, she silently spooned up the last remnants of the soup. Her gaze flickered to the cheerful couple who seemed entirely unfazed by Yuri’s sharp tongue. What was even more astonishing was Yuri’s nonchalant demeanor toward them, occasionally smirking at their banter as he accepted a glass of wine.

Back in Nike’s royal palace, no one had ever dared to speak to Yuri in such a casual manner. Yet here, this couple interacted with him as if he were nothing more than a wayward son returning home.

Yuri appeared… comfortable.

“Do you remember the day of Lord Yuri’s coming-of-age ceremony? It started raining just at the right moment, and everyone in town couldn’t stop praising him. Hohoho, you should’ve seen it! I barely restrained myself from announcing to everyone that Lord Yuri’s favorite dish since he was a boy was my potato soup!”

Laura, her cheeks flushed from the wine, cupped her round face with her calloused hands as she chuckled.

“You’re delusional. Stop making things up,” Yuri retorted, rolling his eyes as he poured her another drink.

Heina watched quietly, stunned by this rare glimpse into Yuri’s past.

If Yuri hadn’t encountered this couple during his time abandoned in the desert as a boy, she realized, he probably wouldn’t be alive today.

Kun, the old man, had coaxed the knife-wielding young Yuri into following him home. Laura had cleaned the boy, who was drenched in wolf blood, and prepared a meal for him. When Yuri’s hands trembled too much to eat after the trauma of nearly being killed by wolves, Laura had held his hands gently, grounding him.

That day, Yuri had eaten every last bite of her modest, unremarkable potato soup, lowering his head in gratitude. It wasn’t about the taste—it was about the warmth and care that had saved his life.

“Hoho, and don’t even get me started on Kun! Normally, he’s so quiet you’d think he’s dead half the time, but that day he was so thrilled that he got drunk and yelled, ‘Lord Yuri is the chosen future Emperor of Nike!’ before collapsing on a table! Hohoho! And not a single person in the village argued with him!”

Laura’s prideful laughter filled the room as Yuri smirked, finishing another glass of wine.

Seated at the table, surrounded by their conversation, Heina felt entirely out of place. She silently debated how to excuse herself but found no opportunity to leave.

“Please, Lord Yuri, take care of yourself,” Kun said gravely, his weathered face etched with concern.

Though he was less talkative than his wife, his words carried a weight that made the room fall silent.

The news of Yuri being forced to leave Granada by imperial decree had spread throughout Nike. People whispered that the imperial family’s long-standing power struggle had begun in earnest.

“Instead of worrying about me, old man, you should worry about your own neck. If your drunken babbling about me reaches Fessis’s ears, don’t come crying when you find yourself beheaded.”

Yuri chuckled as he drained his cup, while the old man, Kun, shook his head solemnly. The stoic elder, who had spoken so little before, now let out a stream of earnest words.