TCCIO 09

Chapter 9. What Do You Want From Me?

“So, what was it again? Your name?”

When Aaron brushed his lips, the woman’s face contorted with fury. Her eyes, once trembling in fear, instantly flared with anger. Even her unfocused gaze had struck him as beautiful, like a sapphire… but now, with hostility shining in her eyes, she looked even more desirable. The raw, vivid change in emotion made Aaron smile more deeply.

“I have no name to give to the enemy.”

Despite the woman’s sharp tone, Aaron remained relaxed. He leaned in and settled himself on the bed where she sat. Startled by the pressure of his large frame closing in, the woman instinctively flinched and backed away. A scent identical to that of her own clothes drifted from the man now looming over her.

“I should introduce myself first, then. My name is Aaron Stilleitz Bergen. The only Grand Duke of Stilleitz and the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army. Just call me Aaron.”

The woman frowned slightly, locking eyes with his curious gray gaze.

“I don’t think we’re close enough to be calling each other by name.”

At her cold response, Aaron slowly leaned in. The woman leaned back to avoid him, but the more she tried to pull away, the closer Aaron moved. The distance between them neither closed completely nor widened. Though they didn’t touch, the warm breath exchanged between them gave the illusion that they were.

“If you don’t want to tell me your age, your affiliation, or your rank, that’s fine, but…”

As she tried to escape, the woman lost her balance and collapsed backward. Before the rough texture of the cot could catch her, strong arms supported her fall, slowing it. Aaron gently eased her down onto the bed.

“Still, I need something to call you.”

His beautiful eyes sparkled enticingly above her face. On instinct, she raised her bound hands and pushed against his chest. The more she resisted, the more amused Aaron’s expression became.

“Move.”

“I will—if you tell me your name.”

“Quit playing games and get off me.”

Dizzy from the intoxicating scent, she blinked rapidly to stay conscious. Her long lashes fluttered like feathers scattering light.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just decide what to call you myself.”

Aaron whispered, watching the scattered lights in her eyes.

“Fake militia captain of Iorenti? The sneaky little eel who sucker-punched me and slipped away? The unidentified lifeform burned into my memory? The not-so-typical prisoner I have? The woman I’d like to drink brandy with?”

He paused, looking conflicted.

“There are just too many things I want to call you. That’s the problem.”

At his shameless remark, Delia looked at him, dumbfounded. She didn’t want to deal with this, but there was no way to avoid it. Her sigh hinted at resignation. At last, she whispered softly.

“Del.”

“What?”

Aaron pretended not to hear.

“Del. Call me Del.”

“Del, huh.”

He repeated her name like he was engraving it into memory.

“That one syllable was so hard to hear. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell me from the start?”

Aaron smiled as he helped Del sit up. Her golden hair fluttered gently with the motion. At some point, a bowl of porridge had been placed beside them by a subordinate.

“Now then, shall we eat?”

“What are you doing?”

Aaron had already picked up the bowl Dike had brought. With a spoon, he scooped some porridge and brought it to her mouth—as if he intended to feed her himself.

“I’ll feed you. Here, say ‘ahh.’”

“I can eat on my own, so untie my hands.”

“My beautiful prisoner. You’re still a prisoner before a patient. I can’t untie you. Just open your mouth and I’ll feed you.”

Delia clicked her tongue, exasperated. This lunatic.

“We’re not close enough to care for each other. Aren’t we supposed to be praying for each other’s death?”

“Why? We’ve already shared quite a bit.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled mischievously. That look again. He’s about to say something ridiculous. Delia narrowed her eyes in warning.

“The bed and the clothes. They’re all mine.”

What? Delia urgently looked down at herself. No wonder—she thought the scent on her clothes smelled like his.

“I cared for you all night while you were sick. Got you water. Even changed your clothes when you were unconscious. And you still think we’re nothing to each other?”

Delia paled and quickly covered herself with the rough blanket. Though fully clothed, she suddenly felt naked.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why? I’m treating you quite well, aren’t I?”

“This isn’t normal behavior for someone holding a prisoner. What do you want from me?”

Good question. What do I want from you? Aaron lightly picked up the end of her tousled golden hair.

“My dear prisoner, I should be asking the questions. Who are you really? Where did you find men like those?”

Delia’s eyes trembled at the sharp question. Each time he prodded, she reacted immediately—and that only amused Aaron more. He smiled at the satisfying clarity of her responses.

“I need to know your identity to use you properly. So tell me—what are you?”

Unable to hold back her anger, Delia shoved the bowl of porridge away. It hit the ground with a loud clang, echoing through the tent.

“Then all the more reason I won’t eat it. I won’t let you use me. I’d rather die.”

She turned her head and shut her eyes, clearly done talking. The vibrant blue of her eyes vanished again, like an illusion. The smile that never left Aaron’s lips faded at last.

“I told you not to look away from me.”

Aaron braced his hand on the bed, blocking her escape.

“Looks like I need to remind you again—of the situation you’re in.”

Delia opened her eyes at the strange tension in the air. She saw herself reflected in Aaron’s now very close eyes. This time, she didn’t avoid his gaze. She stared back. She was done being dragged around just because she was a prisoner.

“Then let me remind you—just how vile and pitiful a man you really are.”

Delia lifted her chin haughtily. Try me. I dare you. If you’re going to kill me, make it spectacular. At her fierce, defiant glare, cracks spread across Aaron’s calm mask. His breath, once steady, turned rough.

“Commander!”

Deputy aide Dike barged in, throwing open the tent flap. The sudden intrusion chilled the air between the two.

“Uh, I—I…”

Dike, who had urgently sought the Commander, trailed off at the odd tension in the room.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

Aaron rose with a stiff expression and asked in a low voice.

“Why did you call for me?”

Dike flinched. The commander’s voice was cold—he was clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“S-sorry. You can continue. I’ll leave and come ba—”

“No. Just report now.”

Aaron’s glare felt like it could kill. Dike wiped away cold sweat and nervously gave his report.

“A carrier pigeon arrived from Aide Collin.”

“And?”

“May I speak here?”

Dike glanced uneasily at the Iorenti prisoner. The pigeon’s message was confidential military intel—should a prisoner be hearing this? But Aaron didn’t seem to care.

“I have a rough idea already. Say it here. The prisoner should know her reality anyway.”

So she won’t dare look away again.

“Aide Collin has reached the Iorenti capital.”

A smirk tugged at Aaron’s lips. If they could strike quickly and capture the royal castle, forcing the king to surrender, this dreadful war would be over. The thought alone made Aaron smile. What would he do with the prisoner afterward? Maybe he could take her not as a bargaining chip—but as a spoil of war.

Then Dike’s hesitant voice cut into his thoughts.

“However…”

“Yes?”

“There seems to be strong resistance centered around the royal palace, and it may lead to a prolonged standoff.”

Delia’s stiff lips curved up into a grin.

“Oh dear. How unfortunate.”

Aaron’s smile vanished as he glared at her. Her bright, triumphant voice and mocking smile—how did that sound remotely sympathetic?

“After all that trouble crossing Tarren’s Mountain, your sneak attack was wasted. What a shame, after all that hard work.”

Delia sneered. Tarren’s Mountain was too treacherous for troops carrying heavy arms and supplies. Most dismissed it as an impossible route. Still, Delia had insisted on sending troops there, arguing it was better to be sure than to regret. She’d convinced the royal couple and led 200 guards to scout the mountain herself—hoping it was all for nothing. But when she saw the long Imperial column climbing the slopes, she had no choice but to act.

So they came after all…

Her assault hadn’t been meant to defeat the thousands of Imperial soldiers with her 200 guards. It was about delay. Blocking the enemy, buying time for the capital to prepare. And she’d succeeded. Her smile deepened.

“Commander.”

“…Commander?”

At her call, Aaron’s eyes twitched sharply. Commander, said in such a mocking tone. A title he’d always been proud of now sounded like an insult. The more his face twisted in irritation, the brighter Delia’s smile grew.

“Yes, Commander. I think I’ve got my appetite back.”

Facing Aaron’s furious glare, Delia lifted her chin. The dizziness from lying down too long had vanished. Her lips parted in a smirk.

“Go on. Feed me. I’ll gladly eat it now.”

For the first time since her capture, Delia smiled brightly—right at Aaron.