Chapter 16 - King Cinderella: Two Hearts Entwined in Sin

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Chapter 16

 

 

Ordinarily, his voice was beautiful—deep, smooth, and captivating. Now it sounded like a different man entirely.

 

It was like a rusted hinge trying to force open a stuck door. So painful to hear, Chalon wanted to stop him.

 

"I am not a noble. The story of me being from Auden is also a lie. I'm just… one of the common folk of this nation. I have no privileges, no status. My name… is Erald James."

 

Chalon had been about to tell him not to push himself—but now he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

 

Never once had he suspected Erald of lying. He had truly believed he was a young noble from Auden. And now, this confession itself felt more like a lie.

 

He was too stunned by the revelation to speak. The silence he unwittingly created only deepened Erald's anxiety and hurt—a realization that would come far too late.

 

"Erald James… Your being a commoner feels more like a lie than anything else you've said."

 

"I… used fine clothes that didn't suit my station, and expensive perfume, to deceive you, Prince Chalon."

 

"—Why would you lie like that? Did you think I'd leave you if you told the truth?"

 

When Chalon asked, Erald again held his breath. If Chalon had still been touching his chest, he would have surely felt his heart's reaction.

 

Erald's emotions were so strong they seemed to ripple through his entire being, and the weight of that pain was frightening—as if it might even begin to consume his body.

 

"I didn't want to believe that… but you were so noble, so far above me… I couldn't summon the courage to trust. Even if I had to lie about who I was, I still wanted to be with you."

 

"Erald, please don't cry. Please… Erald."

 

"I'm sorry… I truly am sorry."

 

As Erald bowed his head, voice trembling, Chalon reached for his arms.

 

He stroked his left arm—still scarred from the day they met—and his right, over and over as if smoothing away his pain.

 

"Raise your head. No matter who you are, it doesn't change the joy of the time we spent together or your worth. You are you."

 

As he touched him, memories of their time together returned.

 

He now understood Erald's desire to touch him, even if it meant overstepping.

 

When you fall in love, you want to see the person, talk to them—and touch them.

 

And when you touch, the love only deepens. You want to touch more.

 

"It makes no difference whether you're a noble or not. You know that too, don't you?"

 

As he spoke the words aloud, they resonated deep within his bones.

 

Compared to himself or his brother, both born royal, Erald wasn't lacking in any way.

 

Be it royalty, nobility, or commoners, the womb one is born from is determined by fate alone. One's birth is neither a point of pride nor shame—Chalon understood this well.

 

"I'm glad you confessed, both about your false identity and your hidden feelings. Now, can you be with me without carrying that burden anymore?"

 

"Prince Chalon…"

 

"If you care for me enough to commit the sin of loving another man, then let us be eternal lovers. You mustn't bear this sin alone. Don't fall into hell by yourself."

 

Smiling through his tears, Chalon touched Erald's cheek.

 

As he traced the wet skin, Erald's lips—colorless compared to usual—parted hesitantly.

 

"I cannot bring myself to drag the one I love into hell with me."

 

"No, bring me with you. If we commit the same sin together, then even in death, we won't be parted. Isn't that the truest form of devotion to our love?"

 

"But…"

 

"I want to be with you. Now, and always."

 

As Chalon pressed the pad of his finger to Erald's lips and gently altered their shape, Erald's teeth lightly caught his nail.

 

Every gesture was filled with tenderness, and his feelings came through with quiet intensity.

 

Entwined with the love blooming within him, those emotions swelled and grew large and warm.

 

"Erald…"

 

"Prince Chalon, I love you."

 

Chalon sank once more into the sheets, gazing up at Erald, who had risen over him.

 

For someone like Chalon, who had lived his life without defying God, committing sin was utterly terrifying.

 

Yet even so, he wanted to accept Erald. He wanted Erald's trust.

 

Just like Erald had chosen him over God, he too… wanted to please Erald, even if it meant turning his back on Heaven. He wanted to become someone Erald could believe in.

 

If surrendering himself here, now—connecting their bodies—could be proof of that, then he would offer it. He wanted to confirm for himself that their love could surpass social rank set by men, and taboos set by God.

 

"Ah… ahh… ha…"

 

"Prince Chalon… please… relax…"

 

The whisper at his ear urged him to let go, but his tension held him back.

 

Chalon wrapped his arms around Erald's back, clinging tightly to him, trying to feel him closer.

 

Perhaps it was because of the storm, but the scent of Erald's perfume had faded tonight. Instead, he smelled of rain and leather.

 

It was different from usual—but it was still unmistakably Erald, whose presence he had longed for.

 

This space was filled with the essence that only he carried. As their eyes met, his earnest love, his gentleness, his passion that defied the storm—they all radiated warmly.

 

"Nn… uh…"

 

After a series of intimate motions, Erald positioned himself between Chalon's legs.

 

The ache of being entered, his hole spread open by probing fingers and now filled—was this the mark of taboo?

 

The fear intensified, and Chalon clung to him, only to be kissed softly on the forehead and temple.

 

Erald didn't force his way forward—every action was measured, gentle.

 

"Ah, ha...!"

 

Their slimy mucous membranes slid together with a sensual sound.

 

Their connection grew deeper on its own, and after a moment of relief, Chalon was caught in waves of pleasure.

 

"Ah... ah...!"

 

That sensitive point, which had nearly undone him with just a touch, was now overcome by Erald's desire.

 

Falling into inescapable rapture, Chalon kept his arms around Erald's back as his thrusts became more intense.

 

"Kuh, ah... ah..."

 

"—Ah..."

 

As his own moans mixed with Erald's strained breaths, tears began to spill.

 

Though there was pain, sometimes tight and biting, he found himself wishing this moment would never end.

 

This act, this connection—this was happiness. His entire being felt it.

 

"Ha, ah... kuh...!"

 

"Prince Chalon, does it hurt terribly?"

 

"...N-no... it's fine... please, just keep going..."

 

Outside, the sky still roared. It was as if the wrath of God had not yet ceased.

 

But if the lightning struck, Erald would be with him. Whether in purgatory or hell, if he could fall with Erald, the fear was halved—no, it seemed to vanish entirely, the deeper his love for him grew.

 

"N-no... ah, I can't...!"

 

Under Erald's surging movements, Chalon's toes curled, and he raked the sheets with his nails.

 

The creaking bed echoed in the room as his body arched under Erald's weight, nearly overwhelmed.

 

The pillow beneath his hips shifted, and Erald's hands lifted him by the hips.

 

Suspended like a pendulum, his body moved back and forth.

 

"Ah, ah... ahhh...!"

 

Racing toward climax, he reached a realm untouched by either purgatory or hell.

 

So sweet, so pleasurable—it made him forget why this was supposed to be wrong.

 

Even the pain that should have been there vanished, replaced by bliss that seemed to carry him heavenward.

 

Like blood rushing through his veins, joy flooded every part of him.

 

"—Erald...!"

 

"Prince Chalon... I adore you... Prince Chalon...!"

 

A bolt of lightning lit up the window, casting a pale glow across the bedroom steeped in passion.

 

As the flash revealed Erald's silhouette—cut sharp like a shadow on blackened paper—Chalon nodded.

 

He could feel it in Erald's breath and movements—he too was reaching his peak.

 

Chalon understood that from this moment on, he would be seen as defiled in the eyes of society. But he no longer cared.

 

All that remained was joy—pure and resounding. The knowledge that Erald felt the same was enough.

 

"...Please, kiss me..."

 

Even before the words were fully spoken, Erald's face drew near.

 

Their lips met, and this time, Chalon opened his mouth fully to receive him.

 

They broke down each other's resistance, their tongues entwining, breath mingling, sharing warmth and affection.

 

"Mmn... ha..."

 

"—Nn... mm..."

 

Erald's body tensed in his arms, and a hot pulse surged deep inside.

 

Embraced by another man, sharing this release, Chalon had committed the sin of loving him even more.

 

He etched this truth into his soul.

 

He had once thought he would marry a foreign princess, that love and happiness were things cultivated by effort.

 

But now he knew—it wasn't always so.

 

Without labor, without intention, feelings could blossom naturally and bear fruit.

 

He had never known this until now.

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