Chapter 78
In the past, Wakako would always obey no matter what, but this time she didn’t. She was pinned down by the pheromones of someone born to be superior, yet she stubbornly resisted.
Miki lowered her gaze even further. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying?”
Wakako clenched her still-damp sleeve. She had never raised a hand against the Saint, but in this situation, she couldn’t afford to be cautious anymore. The guests were right outside, and they absolutely couldn’t discover that the Saint had disguised herself as a bride and snuck into her bridal chamber.
The Saint’s reputation could not be tarnished.
The pressure of the pheromones made Wakako’s entire back feel as if it were being gnawed by ants, a constant, tingling pain.
Ignoring everything, she stepped forward and grabbed Miki’s slender arm, trying to forcibly pull her away. But in an instant, her knees buckled, and she fell to her knees.
Having drunk her master’s blood, she was susceptible to her control, unable to resist kneeling before her.
In Miki’s condescending gaze, Wakako’s reflection seemed to appear.
She caressed Wakako’s long hair—braids specially styled by Liu Siruo—each strand smooth and thick. Gently pulling back, she made Wakako look. “On your wedding day, are you going to run away in front of everyone?”
Wakako stared at her, unable to comprehend.
Hadn’t they already made a decision? On that snowy morning, hadn’t Miki told her to “take good care of Miki?”
Why had things turned out like this?
Using pheromones to suppress someone wasn’t without cost, especially given how frail Miki’s body was. In moments, a trickle of fresh blood flowed from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto her red dress and blending in unseen, yet she seemed unconcerned.
Only a single drop of blood clung to the tip of her pure white hair.
Seeing Wakako’s expression, Miki understood what she was thinking. She giggled, her laughter as clear as a silver bell. “You silly girl, don’t you get it? It’s always been me. The one who asked you to hang the sachet, invited you to the Huo clan’s banquet, accompanied you through the streets to receive blessings, and even today’s wedding—it’s all been me. Every ritual observed, under everyone’s watchful eyes; no one could find fault.”
Her other hand gently patted Wakako’s cheek, her pheromones still pinning her knees to the ground.
Recalling the events of the past, Wakako’s heart sank.
“So it was you all along…” she had sensed something was wrong on the day she hung the pouch, but there was no sign of any disguise on the other’s face. How could it be?
Miki saw her confusion and smiled. “Master Liu’s disguise techniques have improved again. No one else could recognize me. Do you know why she would help me? It’s because she was touched by what happened between us.”
So it was Senior Sister Liu Siruo.
Wakako’s eyes welled up, unable to speak. Tears welled up uncontrollably.
Miki leaned closer, the faint scent of wine from the banquet enveloping them. She softly asked, “Why are you crying?”
Wakako turned her head to avoid that intense gaze.
Miki’s hand holding the braid didn’t loosen, and her other hand reached out to wipe away her tears, whispering like a lover. “If you keep crying, your makeup will smudge.”
Wakako’s face was ashen. After a long silence, she whispered, “Miki’s pregnancy, was that you too?”
The timing was perfect, setting off a chain of events, informing the Jin clan, and switching the bride.
“What makes you say that?” Miki laughed just the right amount, appearing completely innocent. “I don’t think I have the ability to make an Omega pregnant, do I?”
Of course, the Saint didn’t, but what about Senryu?
“Senryu came to me that day and said she was lonely in the palace without any friends. So you casually suggested she meet Lin Lin… You sent her, didn’t you? You made her take advantage of Miki?”
Miki said calmly, “Wakako, Senryu hadn’t even presented at that time. Besides, how could Senryu force a mercenary?”
Every word she said was true. Even if Miki was drunk, she could still handle Senryu. And before that, no one had ever imagined that Senryu would present into an Alpha.
Wakako said coldly, “Do you dare say you didn’t interfere at all?”
“Of course I dare,” Miki showed a peculiar expression, speaking slowly. “Miki was drunk and had a fleeting affair, got pregnant, and you’re covering for her. Tell me, what does that have to do with me?”
Yes, the Saint didn’t have to do anything. She only needed to see one step ahead, and she could firmly grasp the development of subsequent events, making everything proceed according to her will.
Wakako felt as if an invisible net was slowly tightening around her, suffocating her. She had no choice but to surrender.
Weakness was always the hunter’s disguise.
“You heartless girl,” Miki’s fingertips lightly tapped Wakako’s brow, over and over, as if poking at her heart. She seemed amused. “You really want to leave me and marry someone else?”
The blood dripping from her lips made them even more alluring, almost staining her colorless pupils red.
She said, “You promised me at thirteen that you would be my dog for life. How come you want to leave me at twenty-three? And for a fake with a similar name…”
Miki reached out to untie her sash, intricately tied, but easily pulled loose. “You can’t, Wakako.”
Footsteps could be heard faintly outside the courtyard. According to custom, the guests would leave some of the wine from the altar at the entrance of the bridal chamber, wishing the couple a happy marriage.
Neither she nor Miki had any chance of leaving.
The light red dress was half untied. Miki pressed her hand against Wakako’s chest, feeling her heartbeat in the stillness, clear and steady.
The skin under the dress was warm, and Wakako instinctively flinched when the cold palm touched it.
Miki leaned down and kissed her heart, savoring it, her pure white eyes flickering slightly before she bit down.
“Mmm—”
Wakako bit her own lip just as tightly.
She no longer knew whose blood was on Miki’s lips.
Fresh red roses were placed on the table, their dew drops still undried. Miki took one and pinned it to her hair, asking with a smile, “Do you like it?”
There was only one answer to this question, so no reply was needed.
Miki took another rose and gestured for Wakako to hold the stem. “Break it for me.”
With a crisp snap, it broke in half.
The flower was as beautiful as the Saint, and the stem was as delicate and fragile as the Saint, ready to break at any moment.
Miki stuffed the entire flower into Wakako’s mouth and held the stem in her hand. “Hold it properly,” she said. “For every petal that falls, I’ll strike you once with the stem.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “But you seem to enjoy it when I punish you, you always get so wet. Maybe you’ll drop a petal on purpose to earn a punishment?”
In countless past intimacies, Miki always made Wakako take the initiative. The delicate Saint would lean against the wall, her gaze tracing every inch of Wakako’s moving body, smiling as she savored her embarrassment.
As far as she could remember, this was the first time Miki took the lead. She wasn’t strong; her movements were light and slow, her fingers cold but capable of bringing Wakako the deepest pain—like an indelible mark on her soul.
“Think about why I’m punishing you,” Miki bit Wakako’s earlobe, unhurriedly.
The overpowering cherry scent was as thick as blood, invading her nose, mouth, and every vulnerable place.
Even if Wakako knew the right answer, she couldn’t say it. She had to use all her strength to keep holding the rose, otherwise, she would accidentally bite it.
Besides, Miki never needed a reason to do anything.
Wakako couldn’t hold on any longer. A petal, bitten to shreds, fluttered down onto her chest. The stem struck the same spot as promised.
“You think I’m unreasonable, don’t you? You think you’re so righteous?” Miki whispered. “Well, let me tell you—it’s all bullshit.”
Wakako’s pupils trembled. When did she start using such vulgar language…
“You think the Saint shouldn’t be so crude, don’t you?” Miki forced her to look at her. “But who decided that? God?”
“You were afraid I’d lose my life, so you wanted to back out. That’s not for my sake; it was just an act of cowardice.”
The petals in her mouth fell one by one.
Wakako’s voice was painful and muffled. “But you’ll die.”
She had waited so many years for the chance to see Miki again. If it weren’t absolutely necessary, why would she choose to let go?
Everyone has a weakness, and she was no different. The prospect of death can destroy all resolve.
Miki broke off another rose and stuffed it into her mouth. “Hold it,” she said softly. “If you ruin this one, you’ll have to hold it with your other mouth.”
“So what if I die? The Saint’s lifespan is short anyway. What difference does it make if I live a few more years or less?”
The stem struck again and again, each time with a crisp sound.
“You’re just a coward, Wakako. Even when someone who looks like me stands before you, all you dare to do is embrace them. You claim you don’t want me to die, but the truth is, you’re just scared of being a burden to me.”
Miki’s fingertips pressed deeper. “Didn’t you used to brag to everyone that you’d follow me to the death? You have the words but not the resolve. Do you remember what comes after that?”
Wakako’s mind drifted back to years ago when Miki taught her to read. Her master was usually gentle, but if she showed any laziness or distraction, she’d become stern and cold.
—You have the words but not the heart, you have the heart but not the resolve. Both fools and sages are blinded by it.
You say it but don’t mean it, you mean it but don’t act on it. Whether you’re a fool or a sage, you’re trapped by it.
It’s been like this since ancient times.
Miki said, “Wakako, I’m the master, you can’t make decisions for me. As long as I don’t let go, you must stay by my side. Without my permission, you cannot escape.”
“Of course, it’s easy to make me change my mind. When I touch you and you don’t get wet anymore, then you can go.”
But that was impossible. The bright red rose petals were scattered all over the floor, and her body and hair were covered in them.
Some were unconsciously bitten to pieces, others slipping from her lips. In any case, every petal was soaked, as if floating in water.
How could she not react?
The first flower was gone, and the second was soaked by her mouth.
Various scents mingled, making it hard to discern anything. Her own pheromones struggled to emerge but were suppressed, just like her knees pinned to the ground, leaving no room to breathe.
A hint of flush finally appeared on Miki’s overly pale cheeks, like the final touch on a porcelain doll. “Look at me.”
Her voice was like a spell.
“See clearly that your bride is me. Don’t do anything reckless to make me angry, okay?”
The Saint remained as she always was, her clothes intact, not a single wrinkle, her smile serene.
Wakako couldn’t count the petals on a flower, nor could she count how many times the stem had kissed her skin, leaving it flushed and sensitive like ripe berries waiting to be plucked.
Miki loved to tease her nipples, nipping at one with her teeth while the stem danced across the other. Her right hand continued its exploration of Wakako’s core, and with each flick of the stem, she could feel Wakako clenching tighter.
“You’ve made me quite wet,” Miki murmured. “If I can’t wipe it clean later, you’ll have to lick it off for me.”
The flower in Wakako’s mouth stifled her moans. Pleasure and pain intertwined, tears welling in her eyes. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she bit through the stem with a choked sob.
Miki’s eyebrow twitched. “Now I really will have to feed you flowers. Do you want the bud or the stem?”
With a playful smile, she pushed her kneeling servant down onto the bed of petals. Leaning in, she covered Wakako’s mouth with her own, leaving no room for respite as she brought her to another climax.
Still so easy to tease. I love to see you cry.
