'....' Vex didn't answer her right away.
His eyes remained on her for a fleeting moment—just long enough.
Long enough to see her.
The tilt of her chin. The way her brow furrowed in restrained irritation. The twitch in her cheek, that slight flare of her nostrils as her lips pressed together—not angry. Not really. More… conflicted.
She was trying to look composed.
But her fingers gave her away.
Folded over her lap, they curled unconsciously into the loose fabric of Maira's spare dress, knuckles whitening. The dress was too soft, too plain for a princess, and the way she sat in it—ramrod straight—made it seem like a battle posture.
Like her spine was holding up more than just her back.
"I meant with Maira," she said finally, her voice steady but slightly lower, as if she had to push the words out.
"Why are you acting so... clingy?"
She stared at him now—harder. Her eyes narrowing, sharp with something unspoken. Not just judgment. Not just annoyance.
It was confusion. Curiosity. A flicker of something messier.
Vex tilted his head, knowing what he needed to do with Asperia, especially after finding out how she had just hurt him a few hours ago.
He already understood her personality, especially after spending quite some time naked. He said something that would hurt her, in a sharp tone with a blank look.
"Why does it matter to you?"
His voice wasn't sarcastic.
Wasn't challenging.
It was… honest.
That only made it worse.
'Huh?' Asperia's breath caught in her throat. She blinked once. Twice.
Her gaze dropped—to the floor for half a second—then snapped back up. She looked like she was going to say something immediately.
But the words didn't come.
Instead, her lips parted slightly. Then closed again.
Her hand shifted across her thigh, the other brushing back a loose strand of hair that wasn't even there—fidgeting, masking.
"You are..." she began, softer now.
"You're…"
But her voice caught.
She bit her lower lip, caught herself, and looked away sharply. Her eyes avoided him altogether now, flickering to the corner of the room like it held answers.
Her ankle tapped against the floor once, quick and sharp. Her arms refolded under her chest again, tighter this time—pressing the fabric against the swell of her breasts, as if drawing the line between her body and whatever this conversation had become.
She didn't know what she was feeling.
She didn't know why it bothered her.
He was just a stranger, wasn't he?
A perverted, injured weirdo she had met by accident on a battlefield, who now lay curled in some random woman's arms like a stray mutt that had chosen its home.
And yet…
Her stomach felt tight. Not out of anger.
Out of something else.
Because he was right.
Why did it matter?
And why did that truth sting a little more than it should?
She clenched her jaw, fingers pressing so tight into her thigh now that her nails left faint crescents in the skin through the dress.
She didn't respond.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't affirm it.
Just sat there in silence, skin flushed, staring at a floorboard that had never done anything wrong.
And for once—
She didn't look like a princess who was calm and, based on her talent, sent as a diplomat to establish relations with another nation.
One who'd said too much and realized it too late.
Asperia sat stiffly on the edge of the low couch, back straight as a blade, arms folded so tightly against her chest it looked painful. Her jaw was set, but the tremble in her lips betrayed the storm beneath her skin.
The distance between them wasn't far, but it made him feel that the woman had just learned her lesson.
He did not want to punish her for hitting him, just a small guilt was enough... she had been kind to him until now.
Maybe she was someone without whom he might not be here.
So, yeah, he would be lenient now.
He straightened his back and shook his head.
"…Sigh... and you call yourself a princess when you can't even boldly claim me..."
His voice came soft, but the weight of it seemed to press into her bones. Asperia didn't lift her head. Her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of her dress, knuckles whitening.
"You're the one who found me naked, helpless, fresh out of an egg… running through a battlefield while making enemies of random unknown humans."
She flinched—barely—but it was there. Her breath caught for a second, and her shoulders sank a sliver lower.
"You took a stranger's hand after he fell off a cliff... when you could have just left him to die there—" his voice dipped, "You didn't even hate me, even after I—messed up your face."
He said it because, in the end, it was that black-armored bastard being protective who cut off his dick and tried to attack.
'!'
'N-No, I...'
Asperia's chest rose with a sharp inhale, shallow and strained. She didn't look at him, but her arms finally loosened, one hand falling to her lap, fingertips brushing her thigh like she didn't know where to place them anymore.
"You didn't leave him even when we were stranded in that cave, naked—despite knowing how degraded and perverted I am… when the snake bit me, and I was dying. You still saved me. You didn't fight back. Naked and all, even as a princess of a nation, you didn't flinch."
Her legs shifted slightly, thighs parting instinctively under the weight of his words. She pressed her knees together again—but slower this time, her breath growing uneven.
Vex watched it all. Not as a man gloating, but as someone savoring every sign that her heart still reached for his, despite everything.
"Even after we returned to land, after spending days and nights naked in that tight space, deep in the ocean… trusting a naked stranger with your dignity—you saved him again… helped him fight and survive."
A shaky exhale slipped from her lips. Her other arm slid from her chest, falling quietly beside her.
Her body was softening—just a little—but her gaze was still guarded, lips parted, eyes flickering with a war of doubt and need.
Vex, observing her through a side glance, slowly stood, straightening his back. Observing the night through the window, he moved toward it, finally scraping the tail down.
"You think someone like that doesn't have the right to question me? You're not just anyone, Asperia."
He looked toward the vast, cloudy night sky and then back at Asperia, a slow smile forming on his face, head tilted as he looked at her. In a hushed voice, he said,
"You're the one person who stood by me when no one else even knew my name. So yeah… if anyone has the right to slap me, scream at me, or demand answers—it's you... my Princess."
That last line broke something.
Asperia's breath hitched. Her thighs eased apart slightly, unconsciously, her chest rising with a slow, vulnerable rhythm.
Her fingers brushed over her lap, trembling as if unsure whether to reach for him or hide.
She finally looked at him.
Not with fire.
But with something fragile—wide eyes glistening faintly, her lower lip quivering as though her tongue had gone dry from holding back too much for too long.
"You—"
But before she could speak up, a scream came from down the stairs, belonging to Mirea.
"SISTER!"
'!?!'