TWOTCL༘ ೀ⋆｡

XLlll

⭑. ݁ ˖₊˚✩.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊˚✩.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭

Elysia’s entire body began to blush with embarrassment. She didn’t know where to look. Whether it was the deep scars that ran from her shoulders to her wrists, the bre@sts that she had never shown to anyone, or the area between her legs.

As a temporary measure, Elysia tried to pull the sheet over herself, but his hand stopped her, leaving her unable to move. She couldn’t understand why he had completely stripped her.

His eyes, looking down at her as if he would devour her, clearly held desire, but Hadeon didn’t touch her with a single finger. He was only devouring her skin with his eyes, slowly scanning from her neck to the secret bush between her thighs. Elysia felt herself involuntarily succumbing to his gaze.

“…Scars even on your legs.”

“Ah, no.”

When his large hand suddenly touched her thigh, Elysia let out an involuntary moan and jerked her hips.

On the other hand, Hadeon was remarkably composed, enduring the sensation of her skin. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his lips were set in a grim line, but his hand, which began to sweep gently up the outside of her thigh, was incredibly soft.

His hand slowly moved up, gently touching her lower abdomen and lingering around her navel before moving sideways to the most scarred part of her left arm.

“…So many scars, and I didn’t notice until now. What a fool I am.”

Hadeon cursed softly, lamenting.

Elysia’s pupils trembled. She finally realized Hadeon’s purpose.

He was meticulously checking each wound on her body with his eyes.

“…So, you’ve been abusing my property all this time.”

At his murmured words of anger, Elysia’s eyes widened.

For a moment, she felt a surge of indescribable emotion. She felt ridiculous for reacting so sensitively to his every word.

At some point, this man had begun to tame her in this way. Perfectly his possession, a property that no one else could covet, belonging solely to Hadeon Lark.

Whenever Hadeon regarded her as his complete property, Elysia felt an indescribable mixture of submission and thrill. Like the first man to trample on the white snow that had fallen on the field, every time he claimed ownership of her body, Elysia felt a desperate desire to be captured, bound, and obedient to him.

It was nonsense.

It was an illusion she must never yield to or be swayed by.

This man would make her his property and then abandon her. He would let thorny bushes grow and weeds overflow the fence without planting seeds that could bear luscious fruit, leaving her neglected.