episode_0106

“Ahahahaha! Ahahahahaha!”

A single burst of laughter spread wide beneath the blue-skied heavens.

The one roaring with laughter was a silver-haired woman, her bright blue eyes brimming with tears as she doubled over in mirth.

Arina wiped the tears from her eyes but still couldn’t stop laughing.

“Can you stop laughing now?”

“No. First, you two need to step apart.”

The first warning came from Ian, whose expression had stiffened in embarrassment.

The second belonged to Millène, who was glaring at Arina with deep displeasure as the latter clung tightly to Ian’s arm.

With her laughter subsiding slightly, Arina smiled and answered.

“How could I possibly not laugh? A terrifyingly obsessive man flipped an entire nation upside down just to have me—and now there’s no one left to save me. I’ve got no choice but to live as his woman now, right? I’m so scared I could die~”

Despite her words, her playful tone teased him, laughing mischievously.

Ian, completely flustered, turned red in response.

Yet, looking at her radiant, carefree smile, it all seemed irrelevant.

A smile she had never shown before—yet one that felt familiar somehow.

This was exactly how she had been when she lost her memories.

A woman who loved those around her and embraced life purely, unburdened by suffering.

That version of Arina hadn’t disappeared—it remained vividly within her.

This was Arina’s true nature. A woman more deserving of love and happiness than anyone.

Her life had only been twisted by misfortune, shaped by the hands of others.

“Arina, where do you plan to go now?”

“Anywhere. Wherever my master is, that’s where I belong.”

“Pfbfbt?! Cough! Cough! Stop calling me ‘master.’ I can’t get used to it.”

Watching Ian cough awkwardly, his face burning red, Arina’s lips curled like a crescent moon.

‘So cute…♡’

So this was how it felt to be in love.

In her eyes, everything her beloved man did seemed dazzling and adorable.

Still in mischievous mode, Arina linked her arms with Ian’s and pressed closer.

“If not ‘master,’ then what should I call you? You own all of me, don’t you? From head to toe, this body is entirely yours…”

She shamelessly pressed her voluptuous body against him, whispering in a seductive tone near his ear.

Any man would react instinctively to this, and Ian, panicking, tried to push her away.

“Cut it out! Stop calling me ‘master’!”

“Heheh, Master. Master~! Master? Mast—♡”

Amused by his reaction, Arina only repeated it more eagerly.

Had she always been this brazen?

While she had unintentionally tempted him before, this was deliberate.

“I told you to stop!”

Ian glared at her sharply, narrowing his eyes.

He had to put an end to this somehow.

Even for Ian—who had made countless women cry—the seduction of the woman he truly loved, who had rejected him for so long, was unbearable.

His swelling second self was straining against his pants, becoming harder to conceal.

If this didn’t stop now, tonight might end up being their first night together—before he’d even properly confessed.

He wanted to give her time to truly ready her heart, not rush things prematurely.

“How did we even get here?”

“Because you brought this on yourself. So take responsibility, won’t you?”

She clearly had no intention of dropping the title.

As if it were an engagement ring, Arina gently touched the slave crest—a marking more meaningful to her than any betrothal could ever be.

To her, this crest wasn’t just proof of belonging to Ian—it was proof she was no longer alone.

Ever since setting out to slay the Demon King, she had longed to break free from vengeance, to escape or lean on someone.

But she knew she couldn’t.

She couldn’t drag others into her darkness.

Because only she could bear this burden.

So she walked her thorny path alone, shouldering everything herself.

Liel Frost—no, Arina—was someone who could never allow herself to rely on others.

Yet, at last, someone forced himself into her solitude.

Someone who yanked her back, fastened a leash around her neck, and forbade her from pushing him away.

His selfishness and coercion were precisely what she had needed.

By becoming his slave, Arina finally found freedom—true salvation.

So this crest wasn’t just her surrender—it was his vow to give her everything he had.

The most passionate proposal in the world.

‘That’s why my heart races like this… Why I can’t help but love you.’

She had received everything from him.

Even without the crest, she would give everything—even her life—for Ian without hesitation.

“Hey, bitch. Honey’s practically dripping from your eyes.”

Millène stared at Arina’s lovestruck expression, feeling like the world had flipped upside down.

So this was how it would end.

She had seen it coming long ago. After all, she had fallen for Ian even before Arina.

That’s why she had tried to solidify her standing with him first.

But she knew better than anyone—against a fully devoted Arina, she stood no chance.

This was the woman Ian had chased after, the one he truly wanted.

Unlike Millène, who nervously chewed her nails in anxiety, Arina didn’t even spare her a glance—her eyes were only on Ian.

“Hey, you three! Stop right there.”

While the castle was being restored, the trio had been wandering the capital’s outskirts.

The citizens could only stare blankly at Arina—who had been dragged here as a criminal mere days ago—now clinging to a man’s arm without a care.

A revolution had erupted in their homeland, toppling the monarchy they had once followed.

They had no idea what came next.

But who in the world would dare call out to the revolution’s central figures now?

All eyes—both of the addressed and the onlooking citizens—snapped toward one woman.

Lustrous, fiery crimson hair.

Golden eyes that practically gleamed, as if desperate to flaunt her nobility.

Her attire, flawless beauty, and natural grace left no doubt—she was a noblewoman of high birth.

“Who are you?”

“The Duchess of Tronbia…”

“You know her?”

“Uh… Sort of, from before…”

Before Ian could explain, the duchess shoved Arina aside and embraced him.

“It’s been so long, Ian! I missed you terribly!”

Stella Tronbia. The woman who, after hearing tales of him, had once barged in unannounced and proposed marriage on the spot.

Years had passed, but her capricious nature remained unchanged as she once again acted without regard for others.

“Ian…? Who the hell is this bitch?”

Naturally, Arina wasn’t about to let that slide.

Her neck creaked like rusty metal as she turned, all playfulness gone—even dropping the respectful address she’d stubbornly clung to earlier.

“Duchess Stella Tronbia. She once asked for my hand, but—”

“But what? So?”

Arina’s sharp glare was so murderous that Ian broke into a cold sweat.

He’d be fine, but he wasn’t sure Stella would make it out unscathed.

“I refused, of course! Otherwise, would I be here with you like this?”

“Right, got it. So even if you tell this mosquito bitch to get lost, she’ll keep clinging to you?”

“Excuse me, did you just call me a mosquito?!”

It wasn’t entirely wrong, but calling a duchess a mosquito? That was a bit harsh…

“Not a mosquito? Then what? Slut? There’s a limit to how shamelessly you can throw yourself at someone else’s man.”

“S-Slut?! How dare you say that to me! Do you even know who I am?! I am the daughter of House Tronbia!”

“I don’t give a damn. I already tore down a kingdom—what’s one little ducal house to me? Want me to wipe yours out next?”

You do know who you’re dealing with, right?

At Arina’s muttered threat, Stella’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked pleadingly at Ian.

He couldn’t let harm come to House Tronbia—they had aided him greatly.

Reluctantly playing mediator, Ian spoke up.

“Arina, when you say things like that, they don’t sound like jokes. Tone it down.”

“I’m not joking.”

Arina glared in the direction of the Tronbia Ducal House.

If she willed it, the entire estate—and the family’s legacy—could vanish from history in an instant.

“H-Hold on! Since when is Ian yours?! Aren’t you just his slave?!”

Technically, she wasn’t wrong.

Whatever lay between them, legally, Arina was Ian’s slave—nothing more.

She belonged to him, but she held no claim over him in turn.

Struck speechless, Arina turned to Ian with a silent question in her eyes.

“Ian. I’m yours.”

“Y-Yeah. Of course…”

“That’s not what I mean! I’m yours—so what does that make you?”

What are we?

She hadn’t asked outright, but the question lingered in the air.

He’d been asked variations of this before—yet Ian still tensed before answering.

“O-Of course. I’m yours.”

“H-How?! Ian, how could you choose this commoner over me?!”

Ignoring Stella outright, Arina roughly pulled Ian’s face into her chest, flaunting her victory.

“See? Now piss off, you bitch. Don’t you dare wag your tail at my man.”