Do Flowers Bloom in the Fallen Land? Chapter 31.1

It was much more painful than what Aven prepared himself for. Far from being cut, it hurt a lot as if his chest was ripped into millions of pieces. Even without Baron Jeff, even if Louis Franto had a big problem, he knew very well that he couldn't be next.

“I'll prepare the bath,” he managed to say after a long silence between them.

By biting the inside of his cheeks, he was able to suppress his presumptuous feelings for Seira.

“It's all right, Aven. I'll wash myself, so go and rest,” Seira told him.

After a moment of hesitation at her refusal, Aven soon bowed, “Okay. Then take a good rest afterwards.”

“Yes, good night.”

Leaving Seira behind sitting on the bed and waving at him, Aven walked out of her room. On his way down the stairs to return to his own room, he belatedly noticed the box of wine still clutched in his hand.

The box of wine that Louis Franto gave her… what she had brought him.

It was a precious gift.

The misery he felt at that moment was worse than any other he had experienced before.

He wanted to throw the box of wine out of the window and break it into pieces, yet he wanted to hold it in his arms and cherish it as well. Even though his heart was so bitter, he couldn't help but laugh.

Aven eventually couldn't throw it away and brought the wine to his room. He put the whole box in the middle of the display case and took a few steps back and gazed at it. If Seira found the box, she would definitely say something.

How can he store wine in a place like this when it's not something to consume right away?

But what does it matter? The opportunity to drink will never come anyway.

Even if the precious and valuable thing inside turned into trash, Aven wouldn't throw it away or drink it away.

Like all the little, big, trivial or precious, insignificant or valuable things she's ever given him.

Early in the morning, a savory smell rose from the kitchen. Aven prepared his own meal with Seira. He boiled a stew and baked some bread. He didn't forget her favorite tomato-based salad as well.

However, Seira didn't come down until all the preparations for the meal were finished. Much later than usual, Aven went up to the third floor and knocked on Seira's door.

“Duchess, are you awake?”

No matter how long he waited, there came no answer from inside. Eventually, Aven couldn't stand the anxiety and opened the door.

As soon as I opened the door, there was a strong smell of alcohol.

Aven, who strode inside and opened all the windows, looked back at Seira lying on the table. After drinking a lot of expensive alcohol in Franto, why did she decide to empty two bottles of cheap grain wine?

Her platinum hair glistened in the morning sun that poured into the room. The long eyelashes that gently brushed her cheeks, and the slender body surrounded by thin saliva, were submerged in the white sun.

Somehow, everything felt unreal. When he closed his eyes and opened them, Seira Askan seemed to disappear like an illusion.

Aven, who stood firm and looked at Seira, woke her up in a louder voice.

“Stop sleeping and get up. It's already morning,” he said.

Still, Seira lay motionless, and he slowly approached her. Obviously, the smell of alcohol was strong, but as he got closer, only a fascinating scent permeated the tip of his nose.

She slept so deeply in a state of drunkenness that she even forgot to control her pheromones.

“Duchess,” Aven called out to her once more, carefully placing a hand over her shoulder.

Seira didn't wake up just yet and only moaned. Aven couldn't help as he looked down and hugged her. The warmth that permeated from her thin cloth was as soft and sweet as her pheromones.

Trying not to be conscious of her breath tickling his chest, Aven put Seira in bed. But as soon as he tried to pull his arm out from under her back and knee, she suddenly clung to him.

Seira whined with her arm around his neck, “No… Let's sleep more, okay?”

Aven flinched and stiffened. Who was she talking to in her sleep? Is it Baron, or…

He fixed his eyes on her tiny plump lips, wondering what else to say. She smiled brightly even in her sleep, as if she liked the warmth of his body when he didn't move.

“Alright, fine,” he finally succumbed to her drunk request, “We'll sleep some more.”

Her defenseless smile was both innocent and erotic at the same time. Aven couldn't move as if his whole body was wrapped around an invisible spider web.

Aven rested his forehead on her shoulder and took a deep breath. Time seemed to slow down from the usual. His heart was pounding so hard that he could even hear his head pulse in rhythm.

Did he really not have the strength to shake off her hands? The answer was simple. The truth was, he just didn't want to.

It was all an excuse.

Aven, who became a master-class slayer at the age of 24 beyond the limits of his bloodline, could overpower the defenseless Duchess immediately if he wanted to. Of course, when she's not as wary of him as she is now.

Chapter end