Chapter 47

The quiet bedroom was filled with the faint sound of Dylan’s lips brushing against Agnes’s skin and the soft swallow of blood.

He wanted more of it. That fragrant taste made his heart pound uncontrollably, his instincts and his curse driving him into hunger.

But Dylan forced himself to breathe out sharply and finally lifted his lips from her wrist.

He immediately took out a handkerchief, wrapped it around her wrist, and pressed the bitten spot to stop the bleeding. His voice came out low and troubled.

“Your blood is… too sweet. It’s difficult to control.”

Hearing such words from someone who was always so composed startled Agnes. Her eyes widened.

“Oh… then what should I do? Is there a way to help?”

To Dylan’s disbelief, she was asking for advice. She seemed to have misunderstood, as though he meant the sweetness was unpleasant.

Even now, she looked ready to fix the problem for him, as if blood could be adjusted like a meal’s flavor.

He stared at her innocent face, then covered his own with one hand and let out a quiet laugh.

It was a soft, escaping sound, almost like wind slipping through cracks, but it was the first time Agnes had ever heard him laugh aloud.

She blinked in confusion, not understanding, until Dylan slowly shook his head.

“No. That’s not what I meant.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully. Earlier, while standing between reason and instinct, he had spoken without thought. Now he wanted to explain calmly so she would not misunderstand.

“I manage to keep my sanity through feeding, but drinking blood itself has always been unpleasant. The thirst from the curse never disappears, and the metallic taste never fades either.”

He was unsure how she would take this, but honesty felt necessary. They were already bound together.

He continued quietly, wanting her to understand the warning behind his words.

“Your blood, however, is different. It’s unusually sweet. That makes it harder to resist the thirst. I will control myself, of course, but if I ever become a burden to you, you must tell me right away.”

Agnes looked puzzled but nodded.

It felt strange to know that only her blood tasted sweet to him. The thought was awkward, even a little embarrassing.

To hide her unease, she nodded again quickly. Dylan let out another quiet, breath-like laugh.

“I still can’t believe it. You never know how to take care of yourself, Lady Agnes. I will do my best to handle things properly.”

“What?”

Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, laughing softly.

“That sounds a bit unfair coming from you, Your Grace.”

“Unfair?”

One of Dylan’s eyebrows lifted slightly. His life had always been perfect and orderly.

No one had ever dared to tell him he didn’t know how to take care of himself.

But Agnes still met his gaze with calm eyes that did not waver, even while remaining polite and cautious.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

He brushed his hair back with one hand, his tone caught between confusion and disbelief.

“Since we’re on the subject, I’ll be honest. I don’t think you take care of yourself well, either. You just endure everything.”

Agnes spoke carefully, unsure if she should have said that, but she still finished her thought.

Dylan looked down at her, feeling something oddly out of place.

Agnes had always seemed tense around him. Depending on him was one thing, but feeling comfortable with him was something entirely different.

Yet now she seemed less rigid. She still tried her best, but the stiffness was gone.

Why?

After a brief moment of thought, he understood.

It was because Noah had returned to her side.

Having her child close again, within sight and reach, gave her stability. She no longer feared what would come next and could simply focus on doing her best to repay Dylan’s kindness.

When he thought about it that way, her boldness in following him, her honest worry, and even her persistence all made sense.

Dylan could not say whether this change in her was right or wrong, but he liked it. It felt as if he was finally seeing her true self.

“Have I ever seemed careless to you?”

Agnes waved her hands frantically.

“No! Never. I just mean that today must have been tiring, but you still said you were fine. And I’ve actually been thinking about something else…”

She hesitated for a moment, but when she saw no irritation in his expression, she went on.

“When we first met at the Imperial banquet, it had been over five days since you last fed, hadn’t it?”

Their first meeting.

Agnes was referring to the day in the Imperial Garden when Dylan had drunk her blood for the first time.

That night, he had barely been holding onto his sanity. He had collapsed on the ground, gasping and trembling with hunger.

He had been so afraid that he might lose himself and turn into something monstrous.

If Agnes hadn’t appeared then, he might truly have attacked someone nearby, sinking his teeth into their throat without thought.

“That was the ninth day.”

Agnes’s eyes widened in shock.

By the fifth day, Dylan’s nerves were already stretched thin. When tired, his control weakened even faster. When rested, he could last a little longer, but five days was always the critical point.

To have endured four more days beyond that was unimaginable. Seeing her expression, Dylan explained calmly.

“As soon as I arrived in the capital, His Majesty ordered me to assist with preparations for the banquet. He told me to meet people I hadn’t seen in a while and handed me a pile of documents that had been waiting for my return.”

He pressed his fingers to his forehead, his voice heavy.

“As you know, it’s difficult to find an opportunity when surrounded by people. It would have been different when I was still a prince, but now that I am a duke residing in the capital, every move I make is watched.”

“But…”

‘Doesn’t His Majesty know about your condition?’

She could not bring herself to finish that sentence.

The Emperor most likely knew. He had even asked her vague, testing questions about it before.

He was Dylan’s ruler and family. It was impossible for him not to know such an important secret.

Yet he had still acted that way.

Even though he knew Dylan suffered when the thirst grew too strong.

Even though he knew Dylan feared losing the last of his humanity.

‘His Majesty is truly… cruel.’

Agnes was not entirely naïve. She knew the Emperor and Dylan did not have an ordinary sibling relationship.

The Emperor’s playful words often carried sharp edges.

But she had never imagined those same words could cut his brother so deeply.

Their gentle conversation had wandered into a painful subject. Agnes felt she had reopened an old wound and quickly lowered her gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

She apologized in a small voice.

Dylan studied her quietly. Her brows were lowered, her lips pressed together, and guilt shadowed her expression.

Leaning back against the sofa, he thought for a long moment.

Agnes had done nothing wrong. The one at fault was his sister.

Agnes had only spoken because she wanted him to care for himself more.

Yet she still looked sincerely sorry.

That simple, selfless kindness made something warm stir faintly in his chest.