The Wind Calms the Fire - Chapter 53

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 53
‘Ah…….’
It couldn’t have been because the arrangements were incomplete.
They must have originally intended to give him a shared room for two.
But the attendants had hastily upgraded him to finer quarters.
Once the Fourth Prince appeared carrying Rhea.
‘That’s why…….’
That’s why he’d made such conspicuous gestures—holding her hand, embracing her—right in front of everyone.
It had to be deliberate.
He was sending a message to the Yongbin Corridor attendants: ‘These are my guests, so treat them with utmost care.’
After Kasim departed and Rhea finished preparing for bed, she lay on the mattress and stared at the darkened ceiling.
Her heart had been racing all evening.
Even on nights when she and he kissed, she hadn’t felt this way.
His consideration, hidden beneath an air of indifference, made her heart flutter.
The more she knew him, the more unexpected sides of him she discovered.
She wanted to know him better, to understand who he truly was.
What could she call the feeling that washed over her the moment Carrion appeared?
If Kasim had shown up in that moment, she would have felt reassured and yet anxious at once.
She would have been terrified that the loyal knight might suffer harm protecting her.
But seeing Carrion, she felt only relief.
At the sight of him fiercely intimidating Enoch……her heart had truly raced then too.
As she lay staring into the darkness with that restless feeling, her eyes snapped open.
‘I didn’t do the prevention tonight.’
She’d been too tense all day to remember.
‘What do I do.’
He might suffer through agonizing seizures before the night was through.
He’d helped her so much, and now she couldn’t even help him—the thought gnawed at her.
At much the same time, Carrion was also unable to sleep.
When he’d encountered Kasim in the Yongbin Corridor and heard that she’d gone a different way, an ominous premonition had seized him.
If the Emperor had taken her, it would have been the worst possible scenario.
He’d immediately ordered Cedric to find out the Emperor’s current whereabouts and track down the attendant who’d taken her.
According to the quick intelligence Cedric gathered, the Emperor had gone to the bedchamber of a concubine he’d recently installed at the Jondang, so it wasn’t the Emperor’s doing.
Then who was it?
No one came to mind.
Yet at the same time, too many people came to mind.
The vast Imperial Palace gave him no idea where to even begin searching.
As he’d set out to find her, a sudden surge of heat had unexpectedly stirred in his abdomen.
A seizure at this moment—he’d felt irritated.
But the moment he changed direction, the sensation in his belly had subsided.
When he changed direction again, his abdomen had grown hot once more.
Carrion, uncertain at first, had followed the signal his body was sending and managed to find her.
The more he thought about what he’d experienced, the more bewildered he felt.
Carrion took a deep breath, then spoke carefully to himself.
‘Listen.’
Ever since the Spirit had suddenly run amok and he’d said ‘let’s make a deal’, Carrion had deliberately ignored the Spirit’s existence.
That sensation of an alien force coiling in his belly had felt too vivid, too unsettling.
There was a difference between vaguely knowing something and actually feeling that there was something else with its own will inside his body.
‘Did you help me find the princess just now?’
Nothing happened.
The instant Carrion chuckled softly and closed his eyes, a wave of heat spiraled through his abdomen.
His eyes snapped open.
It could have been coincidence.
He swallowed dryly and tried again.
‘Can you understand what I’m saying?’
A response came—his belly grew warm.
‘I’m……grateful for what you did.’
A gentle warmth bloomed softly in his belly.
It felt almost as though it were pleased, and he let out a hollow laugh.
The Spirit probably wasn’t a creature with emotions.
“You must reconcile with the Spirit.”
He thought her words were absurd.
He was the victim. He’d done nothing wrong—what reconciliation was she talking about?
All he wanted was liberation from the curse.
Whether it was a Spirit or whatever else, he wanted to be rid of it—banish it, obliterate it, anything.
But if that proved impossible… then perhaps accepting this state of coexistence with the Spirit, just as she said, wouldn’t be so bad after all.
‘The princess wielded the Wind.’
Carrion extended his hand.
He murmured while gazing at his fingertips.
‘Ignite.’
Nothing happened.
A strange energy rippled through his belly, undulating like laughter—like something was giggling inside him.
Carrion laughed despite himself.
‘So that’s all you can do? Just thrash around inside me?’
It wasn’t anger, nor was it mockery.
Carrion’s rebuke was light, almost teasing.
At that, the energy within his belly bucked and writhed again.
But it was no longer violent—more like petulant protest, as if the Spirit were sulking.
Carrion chuckled softly, then fell into thought.
It was strange. He felt certain now that the Spirit was no longer hostile toward him.
‘Pomes.’
Carrion recalled that day at ten years old, staring into the hearth, and whispered the etymological word meaning “spark”—an ancient root for flame.
‘I’ll call you Pomes.’
It seemed easier to give it a proper name than to call it vaguely like “hey” or “you.”
The Spirit made no response and fell quiet.
Carrion thought to himself, ‘At least it doesn’t seem to hate it,’ and closed his eyes.
Tonight there had been no opportunity to kiss her.
He’d probably suffer some discomfort waking in the night, but somehow it didn’t matter.
Heat woke him from sleep.
It was different from the heat of a Seizure.
His heightened skin tingled at the slightest touch, a creeping pleasure that spread slowly across his nerves.
He felt soft fingers tracing his face and his eyes snapped open.
He caught the hand that tickled his cheek, drawing it downward, then surged upward and pinned her beneath him with sudden force.
His eyes, usually devoid of murderous intent, flickered with confusion.
“…Princess?”
She smiled seductively, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
‘No.’
It couldn’t be her. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.
Her golden hair, luminous as sunlight, lay scattered across the sheets, and in the curve of her eyes, her green irises gleamed.
It was unmistakably her, and yet it wasn’t.
And it was night now. Without even turning his head, the edges of his vision were pitch black.
Yet only she lay bathed in bright daylight, visible with perfect clarity.
Though unsettled by the wrongness of her laughing smile even in this impossible moment, Carrion remained frozen, captivated, staring down at her.
He swallowed hard and slowly let his gaze drift downward.
Her gem-like eyes, her lips stained red, and from her chin, lower still.
Pale and flushed.
She did nothing, yet her very presence seduced him.
He reached out without thinking.
He couldn’t not reach. Couldn’t not touch.
The moment warmth filled his palm, he exhaled a breath heavy with longing.
She was still smiling. Her smile made his chest swell. He tightened his grip slightly.
Her skin yielded like pudding, impossibly soft and exquisite.
He remembered this sensation—supple, yielding to his touch.
As he summoned the memory of experience, the feeling became even more vivid.
“Mmm.”
Her small whimper shook his entire body.
Every hair on his skin stood on end; he felt blood rushing from his head to his feet and back again.
Heat consumed him entirely.
His mind felt like it was burning. The world before his eyes swam as though he’d been given some potent intoxicant.
Like that night before, base desire seized control of his thoughts.
His head, his heart—both felt ready to burst.
He moved as instinct commanded him. Whatever the act might be.
Harsh, ragged breathing came through his lips, and with it came the metallic taste of blood.
Though his whole body burned with heat and urgency, no satisfaction came—only a parched throat, a desperate thirst.
After struggling for what felt like an eternity, when pleasure finally crested, he felt utterly drained.
The sensation itself was lukewarm, and the satisfaction fell far short of expectation.
But somewhere in the haze, the woman who had been lying beside him vanished. A chill swept across his skin.
His eyes flew open and he gasped for breath. The dark ceiling came into focus.
He blinked several times, then fumbled with his hand beneath him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth.
His underclothes were soaked through.
Yet even now, in his current state, pain was beginning to course through him.
He furrowed his brow and ran a rough hand through his hair.
His breath came hot, and his body burned hotter still.
He tilted his gaze upward, breathing heavily, and his hand moved downward.
His body temperature climbed again, his chest heaving rapidly.
It felt as if white-hot fire were racing across his skin.
The pleasure of release was momentary, but the shame that followed was thick and suffocating.
Such a vivid dream—a nocturnal emission wrapped in impossible clarity. And worse, the guilt of having conjured her into it, of having violated her image in his sleep, crashed over him.
This isn’t natural.
Even when they had shared countless kisses and found themselves drawn into intimate contact, he had never dreamed like this.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————