CHAPTER 83: SWEET LOVERS

Cassel wiped out his opponents as if they were nothing more than flies. He didn’t even look human—taking down every challenger with a single flick of his finger. He didn’t exert effort, didn’t show strain, didn’t even break his rhythm.

And then, as if his overwhelming strength wasn’t terrifying enough, he used a finishing move so powerful it shook the skies themselves.

His lightning ability merged with something else—something deeper, something I couldn’t even comprehend.

The sky lit up with a blazing, violent light like a newborn sun. The thick black clouds parted as if terrified of him.

When the lightning struck, it obliterated the entire battlefield. The shockwave was so intense that it nearly hit the spectators, who scattered in blind terror.

That day, the looks in the generals’ eyes—and in the eyes of every person who witnessed the scene—changed completely.

Fear.

Pure, absolute fear.

It was as if they had seen the Grim Reaper himself descend from the heavens.

After that, no one dared knock on our door again.

Even people who saw us walking outside would instantly move several meters away, refusing to breathe the same air for too long.

I found it genuinely, ridiculously funny.

"Rosalia."

A knock sounded, soft yet firm, followed by the click of the door handle turning. Cassel entered the room.

I lifted my eyes and saw him standing there, tall and terrifying and beautiful, sweat soaking through his clothes, his chest rising with slow breaths.

He held bath products in his hand, like a shameless intruder pretending to be innocent.

I let out an audible sigh.

"Cassel—Boss—don’t you think it’s embarrassing to knock on a girl’s door in the middle of the night every time you want to take a shower in her bathroom?"

I could tell he was trying not to smile. His lips twitched, then flattened as he forced them into a serious line.

His voice was gentle, softer than usual.

"Would you really let your lover walk around covered in dirt and smelling bad? The stench of zombies is all over me."

This man...

Did he really think I didn’t know he hadn’t even stepped outside the base today? That he hadn’t touched a single zombie?

I rolled my eyes.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, wearing the bunny pajamas he had bought me, the tablet still in my hands playing the drama I had been watching before he barged into my room.

Without looking at him, I said, focused on the screen,

"As you wish. But this time, you’re not allowed to sleep in my bed."

I didn’t see Cassel’s expression, but I didn’t need to. I felt the sudden drop in temperature—the cold air rising like frost from the freezer standing beside my bed... also known as Cassel himself.

I didn’t dare raise my head.

Did this man think I had supernatural powers to deal with him?

A few days ago, I had kicked Cassel out and banned him from sleeping in my room.

And although he clearly disliked it, he respected my request and slept in a separate room.

It wasn’t that I was shameless.

It was simply that I didn’t have the strength.

Ever since our relationship became official, even though he hadn’t done anything extreme or gone too far, every time he lifted me into his arms, he kissed me until I ran out of breath.

Sometimes until my lips ached.

Then he kissed every inch of my skin, worshipping, devouring, overwhelming.

Who on earth could endure that?

The next morning, I had kicked him out mercilessly. But he was clever.

Too clever.

He began coming to my room every night, claiming he needed to use my bathroom. Then, once he finished showering, he would sit on my bed. Then lie on it. Then...

Yes. I had not known my favorite villain was this cunning.

My mouth still hurts. I could barely feel the inside of my lips because of the endless kissing over the past few days. Kissing that lasted hours. Hours!

Who kisses for hours without stopping?

What was he, an octopus?

A creature with endless stamina?

He clung to me, kissing and nibbling without mercy.

The marks on my skin were still blue—they hadn’t even faded.

And even though he hadn’t crossed any dangerous lines... kissing alone was enough to kill me from exhaustion.

The most infuriating part was that the next morning, Cassel always woke up full of energy, fresh and cheerful—while I, lying on the same bed, couldn’t even feel my body from the soreness.

This had made me grind my teeth for more than a week.

Today, if I didn’t repay that damned bastard, then my name wasn’t Rosalia—and I’d even write it backwards.

Today, it was better not to mess with this great lady. Otherwise...

I lifted the corner of my eye in a subtle, spying manner to look at Cassel.

And what did I find?

He was unbuttoning his shirt—actually planning to take it off.

Damn it.

I jerked my head down so fast I didn’t notice how high I was holding the tablet until a crushing pain slammed into the center of my forehead.

"Ah—!" My hand shot up to press the throbbing spot, and my vision blurred from the intensity of the pain.

I sucked in a sharp breath, pitiful and shaky.

I was just about to curse Cassel in my head when I felt a cold, strong hand cover mine.

"What’s wrong? Does it hurt?"

Cassel sat on the bed and gently massaged my forehead for a while. Then I heard him murmur under his breath,

"So delicate."

"You’re the delicate one. Your entire family is delicate."

Obviously, he was the reason I ended up like this. How dare he call me sensitive?

Men truly couldn’t be trusted.

For some reason, I felt wronged—wronged enough to believe that Cassel himself was the one who hit me on the head.

Just as my tears were about to fall, I felt a soft, warm touch against my forehead.

"You... you..."

Cassel pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, tender and careful, then blew lightly over the spot several times.

I was in his arms—held so close that I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the faint tremor in his throat, right before his usual cold voice slipped out.

"It’s alright. It’s nothing. The pain will fade soon—don’t cry."

Without thinking, I answered immediately, "Who’s crying? I’m not crying."

"Alright, alright... my darling Rosalia, wasn’t crying. I was wrong."