The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 70: Worry

After Eris disappeared into the distance,

I glanced down, and there it was, the evidence of everything I tried to suppress, straining against the confines of my trousers, a rciless reminder of the chaos she’d awakened in .

The ache was brutal, sharp enough to hollow out from the inside, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat as if it wanted to tear free. Ignoring it felt impossible, like standing before a raging storm and pretending the wind wasn’t tearing at my clothes.

A breath slipped past my teeth, sharp and low, carrying the weight of a frustration I could no longer disguise. This wasn’t , losing command of my own body, my own will. Yet Eris... gods, Eris had unmade with nothing but a glance, with the mory of her skin beneath my mouth, that forbidden taste that still clung to my tongue like sin refusing to fade.

I forced my breath to even out, drawing on the cold precision that had always defined , the icy resolve that turned enemies to ash.

Cool it, I commanded myself, clenching my jaw as I willed the heat in my veins to freeze over. My mind sharpened, pushing the fire down, but my lower half twitched in protest, still rigid and unyielding, a testant to how deeply she’d burrowed into my thoughts.

Finally, I straightened myself, ignoring the way my erection tented the front obscenely. I needed to get out of the garden before so courtier wandered in and saw the evidence of my obsession.

My steps were asured as I slipped from the room, the corridors of Solmire’s palace echoing with my boots.

But my mind raced ahead, replaying the mont my mouth had brushed her arch, the silk of her sole, the faint salt of her sweat mingling with sothing sweeter, more intimate. It fueled the throb between my legs, making each stride a tornt.

In my chambers, the heavy door clicked shut behind , sealing in privacy. I locked it with a flick of my wrist, the sound final.

Freshening up first: I poured water from a ewer into a basin, splashing my face, the cool liquid a shock against my heated skin. It helped a little, dulling the flush on my neck, but the stiffness remained defiant, pressing insistently against my waistband.

Deal with it, I thought, stripping off soft fabric in one rough pull, the fabric brushing over my shoulders. My chest heaved, muscles tight from the restraint I’d imposed all evening.

A knock broke through the silence. Sharp. Polite. Mistid.

"Enter," I said, too curtly.

The door opened, and there she was, Ophelia, standing in the threshold like she’d wandered into the wrong storm. Her eyes widened at once, catching the sight of my bare chest.

"Forgive , Your Majesty, I— I didn’t realize—"

Her words tangled together, cheeks flushing the color of wine.

I reached for the discarded shirt on the armchair and pulled it on, the fabric still cool from the night air.

"Don’t worry about it," I said, tone light, though my pulse hadn’t quite settled. "Why are you here?"

She stepped inside, hands clasped before her. "I ca to see you because ... I’m worried."

I blinked. "Worried? About who? ?"

A small nod.

"And why," I asked, "are you worried about ?"

Her lashes fluttered as if she couldn’t believe she had to explain it.

"Well, it’s because ... you asked Eris to be your wife."

Ah.

Of course.

I should have expected it.

The Emperor of Nevareth proposing to the Fire Queen of Solmire in front of an entire court.

Still it felt strange that she’d co all the way here to talk about it.

Maybe Caelen had sent her. Though I doubted it. He was far too proud for that.

"Which part makes you worried exactly?" I asked.

"Why would you ask Eris of all people to marry you?" she blurted.

"Why not?"

That stopped her. The question hung between us, weighty and unanswered.

I exhaled slowly, closing the space between us until her breath caught again, not from shock this ti, but from the quiet steadiness I carried with .

"You don’t need to worry about ," I said softly. "I can handle Eris."

"You don’t understand—"

"I do."

I let a faint smile curl at the corner of my mouth. "If you must worry, direct it toward Caelen. He seems... dissatisfied with her decision. He should have been relieved, but he looked furious. At her. At ."

At the ntion of Caelen’s na, Ophelia’s face faltered, just for a second. The softness in her features hardened, then smoothed again as though nothing had cracked at all.

"Caelen is like that because he’s been tornted by Eris," she said finally, her voice low, almost careful.

She hesitated, eyes flicking to the floor before continuing.

"And suddenly she hands him everything she tornted him with. It feels... too easy. Suspicious."

Her fingers fidgeted with the lace at her wrist, twisting, untwisting.

"That’s why he’s distrustful of her. He believes she’s up to sothing he can’t see."

I watched her silently, her words curving and twisting through the air like smoke.

They might have convinced soone else, anyone else but not .

Caelen’s distrust wasn’t born of suspicion. It was born of heartbreak.

The kind of wound no power, no crown, could ever salve.

He wasn’t angry because Eris was plotting sothing.

He was angry because she wasn’t his anymore.

But I didn’t say that.

I smiled instead, gentle, composed. The kind of smile people mistook for understanding.

"I understand," I said quietly. "And I appreciate your concern."

A pause, a deliberate one.

"But I proposed to Eris because I wanted to."

My tone sharpened, just enough to make it clear there was no argunt left to be made.

"I’ll happily accept whatever consequences co with it."

Her lips parted, maybe to protest again, but she caught the look in my eyes and stopped.

"Including your friendship with Caelen?" she asked at last, and the question landed heavier than it should have.

I froze, barely, but enough for her to notice.

The air shifted. I could feel her gaze, patient and wounded, waiting for to answer.

I inhaled slowly, forcing my voice to steady.

"I’m sure our friendship is stronger than a little disagreent."

Her brows knitted, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. "A little disagreent?"

She took a step closer, her voice trembling slightly.

"I’ve watched you and Caelen beco close like brothers, Soren. It breaks to see you fight like this. I don’t want you to ever stop being friends."

Her sincerity almost disard . Almost.

I’d forgotten how honest she could sound when she cared.

And yet, she didn’t know half the things that had already shifted between us, between and Caelen, between and her.

Still, I nodded.

"My decision wasn’t to hurt either of you," I said softly. "Especially not my best friend."

The words ca easily.

But beneath them, sothing darker stirred, an unspoken truth I couldn’t voice:

That if choosing Eris ant losing Caelen...

I would still make the sa choice.

Ophelia’s shoulders sank, the faintest sign of defeat slipping through her practiced composure.

For a long mont, she just stood there, eyes fixed on the floor, lips pressed tightly together.

Then she straightened. That gentle warmth she always carried flickered one last ti across her face, the kind of smile that looked like forgiveness but wasn’t quite that.

"...I see," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Her hands dropped from the lace at her wrists. She turned toward the door slowly, each step asured, like she was forcing herself not to run from the weight in the room.

At the threshold, she paused.

Without looking back, she said, quietly,

"I truly hope you don’t regret your decision."

The door opened, letting a wash of cold air sweep through the chamber. Then it closed softly behind her.

For a few seconds, silence.

The kind that humd in your ears.

I exhaled, slow and steady, rolling my shoulders back to ease the tension that had begun to crawl up my neck. I told myself it was fine, that she’d understand in ti.

But before the thought could even settle, a sharp thud broke the quiet.

My head snapped up.

It ca from the outside, heavy, abrupt, final.

For a second, I didn’t move. Then instinct kicked in.

I crossed the room in few strides and yanked the door open...

and froze.