Grant me Your Grace Chapter 59

“There’s no need to rush me like this.”  

 

Hissin chuckled softly, flicking his tongue to lick the curve of her ear. 

 

As he navigated the labyrinth of cartilage and prodded the narrow passage, moving his hips, Dahlia shuddered uncontrollably.  

 

“Haa, Hissin, please stop… Hnggh!”  

 

“Do you dislike it?”  

 

“It’s—ah!—not that, but… no more… Ahh!”  

 

Before she could even finish her sentence, Hissin buried himself in her. The tight walls resisted, his tip throbbing in protest, but he only tightened his grip on her hips.  

 

The sight of her finally losing control, trembling violently, was so beautiful he could have devoured her whole.  

 

Pulling Dahlia close, Hissin took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.  

 

“Grant me your grace, Your Highness.”  

 

A reverent plea reserved only for the goddess Nuit. 

 

Dahlia, who had always coldly brushed him off whenever he sought her favor, was now too lost in pleasure to refuse—only helpless moans escaped her.  

 

On anyone else, it would have looked utterly vulgar. But you—even now, you remain so dazzlingly noble, I can hardly bear to look.  

 

‘I want to grovel at your feet like a dog.’

 

Was this violently overwhelming pleasure melting my brain? Hissin laughed bitterly.  

 

“Only by falling to the filthiest, ugliest depths can one beg for the princess’s grace.”  

 

“Are you mocking me?”  

 

He could see her clinging to the last shreds of her pride.  

 

“Do you hate filth and vileness?”  

 

Looking at her like this, he wanted to protect her fiercely—and simultaneously, utterly crush that pride right before her eyes.  

 

He wanted to worship her while wrapping his hands around her throat, to bury her deep in the mud until she breathed only by his will.  

 

“What a dilemma.”  

 

‘Because you are the Dahlia I desire.’ 

 

“And the man who longs to hold you is exactly that kind of man.”  

 

Of all things, why must your name be Baran?  

 

“Haa, ah—hnggh…!”

 

Hissin unleashed his pent-up desires until his eyes burned red. As he thrust his hips rapidly, her small body swayed helplessly, whimpering in torment. 

 

Each deep plunge soaked the cloth wrapped around the iron pillar even more.  

 

Though her body was already spotless, Hissin couldn’t stop this act of destruction. His manhood, buried deep inside Dahlia, swelled rapidly to its base.  

 

“Ah, Hissin…! Hah, ah, aah…!”  

 

The louder Dahlia’s voice grew, the hotter Hissin’s eyes burned. Gripping her slender waist savagely, he drove into her with force.  

 

“Agh!”  

 

As Dahlia’s body trembled, Hissin pulled her into a tight embrace.  

 

“Ngh…”  

 

A wave of scorching pleasure surged through his spine, spreading tingling heat through his veins. The intermittent shudders of her flesh made the lingering ecstasy even more intense.  

 

Hissin exhaled sharply, slowly pulling back.  

 

“Phew…”  

 

As his massive shaft withdrew, her entrance twitched, gushing out thick white fluid. He caressed her quivering round buttocks before turning her around to face him.  

 

Dahlia’s face was flushed with shame, humiliation, and the feverish heat of climax. When he deliberately licked her now-pale collarbone, her teary eyes welled up, spilling droplets.  

 

“In the end… the Goddess will punish us both.”  

 

Her voice, hoarse from relentless sobbing, came out fragile. It was almost laughable—fearing divine retribution now.  

 

“Then I’ll kill that very Goddess and claim you.”  

 

“Hissin…!”  

 

“Wouldn’t Your Highness need me—someone who can suppress that cursed blood—more than the god who gave you this wretched lineage?”  

 

“No matter who you are, I cannot tolerate you insulting the Nuit Goddess.”  

 

“So it’s fine for royals and nobles to defile you?”  

 

Princess Dahlia Baran’s pale eyes trembled widely. By now, he should have realized there was nothing left about her, he didn’t know.  

 

That newly astonished face of hers was both amusing and adorable, making Hissin laugh once more in satisfaction. His heart was at ease, filled to the brim with contentment.  

 

“What is the will of the gods, and what is the scheme of the devil?”

 

He remembered the Kingdom of Baran clinging to mere prophecies, worshipping him as a divine gift, shamelessly begging for blessings and prayers. 

 

The hands that, in the face of worthless miracles, greedily stuffed themselves into granaries already overflowing with rotting grain. 

 

The mouths that, as soon as nature turned against them, instantly cursed the heavens.  

 

All of it, without ever knowing it was the scheme of a single human.  

 

“In the end, it’s nothing but each one’s own will, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

 

Not the will of the gods.  

 

With a crimson smile, Hissin parted Dahlia’s jaw and stirred inside her once more. Her delicate body, still feverish, easily flared up at the slightest stimulation.  

 

Suddenly, he wondered what his existence meant to her.  

 

Was he the reward that erased the price of blood? Or the punishment that made her commit unforgivable sins before the gods?  

 

If it was punishment…  

 

‘Then it must be the sin of saving me that night.’

 

Especially now that this cursed divine power had manifested within her.  

 

Hissin pulled the collapsing Dahlia tightly into his arms and buried himself deeper into her.  

 

💫

 

A dim light seeped through her eyelids. Slowly lifting her fluttering lashes, Dahlia opened her eyes.  

 

At dawn. 

 

A painless dawn. For someone who usually woke up with a groan, she realized anew just how grateful she was for this serene morning.  

 

‘The spots… they’re all gone.’

 

Dahlia raised her arm toward the ceiling. There were no spots anywhere. It was hard to believe that just a day ago, her entire body had been stained a vivid red.  

 

All of this was thanks to Hissin.  

 

Thanks to the man who caressed, kissed, licked, and then licked some more before finally pushing into her most secret place.

 

Last night, Dahlia and Hissin endlessly entangled their bodies, separated only by iron bars. 

 

Though all her blemishes had already vanished after their first coupling, he conquered her again and again, reducing her to tears.  

 

He had been relentless in his thrusting below. Even now, it felt as though her flesh there had been stripped raw—strange, considering no wound should remain unhealed for one blessed with divine power.  

 

Exhausted and thoroughly ravaged, she barely managed to escape only after the candle had completely melted away. 

 

So drained was she that she hardly remembered how she made it back to the imperial palace.  

 

Her legs still throbbed, making Dahlia curl up reflexively. Hissin’s voice echoed in her ears, whispering the words he had spoken so willingly:  

 

[Do not forget. Your Highness’s body can only be healed by me.]  

 

That man was supposed to be a wretched prisoner, yet in that moment, he had seemed the freest, most omnipotent being alive—as if he had never been confined at all.  

 

‘Hissin knows about the secret passage. He made sure I learned of it through others. Which means… perhaps…’  

 

Following the trail of her thoughts, Dahlia clenched her eyes shut.  

 

There were too many inexplicable things. Once she started questioning, it would only lead to an endless chain of mysteries.  

 

[Do not wonder about anything. No matter what you ask, my lips will yield no answers.]  

 

Dahlia’s gaze darkened.  

 

Though Hissin had warned her not to question or inquire, paradoxically, his words left her with more than a few clues.  

 

Perhaps he had foreseen everything that had happened so far. Perhaps it was all part of his plan—everyone deceived, even his own imprisonment.  

 

Even the chaos engulfing the entire nation.  

 

‘Even… my meeting him.’

 

Dahlia jolted upright from her seat.

 

After experiencing so many absurd events in a row, her thoughts kept spiraling toward strange conclusions. This was too much of a stretch.  

 

She hurriedly drew back the curtains and opened the window. The sun had yet to fully rise, allowing a cool breeze to fill the room.  

 

The idea that Hissin had planned all of this was ridiculous. Plagues and famines were beyond human control, and the miracles had only occurred in distant regions.  

 

Besides, who would be insane enough to willingly imprison themselves? And not just anywhere—but in the underground dungeons, the worst in the Kingdom of Baran.  

 

“Above all, the Gift of the Gods was foretold by an oracle.”  

 

The prophecy about the Gift of the Gods had existed for decades. 

 

Unless Hissin was an immortal being, it was impossible for him to have orchestrated a prophecy that predated even his birth. 

 

At most, he was only three or four years older than her.  

 

Only one possibility remained.  

 

“Unless… he conspired with the priest who prophesied five years ago what the Gift of the Gods would look like.”