Episode 83: I Took the Female Lead’s First Time in a Romance Fantasy

Episode 83: The Calm Before the Storm

The Imperial Residence of Fervache.

The dining table was filled with a luxurious feast, and the soft scent of candles mingled with the gentle glow of the chandelier, creating a comfortable atmosphere.

“I prepared this for you, Yohan.” Francia said with a bright smile as she gazed at him. But for some reason, dark shadows lingered under her eyes.

“Is there a special occasion today? A feast out of nowhere?”

“No reason. Sometimes, we need days like this, don’t we?”

“…”

As Yohan sat down, a chill ran down his spine. Francia’s smile was gentle, but beneath it, a sharp, hidden emotion seemed to pervade the dining room.

Clink.

Yohan picked up the utensils and examined the feast laid before him.

All the dishes had one thing in common.

• A massive roast beef garnished with oysters.

• Lamb leg stuffed with herbs.

• Grain bread topped with honey and nuts.

• A platter of roasted vegetables.

• A berry salad.

‘…Aphrodisiacs?’

All of the food was rich in zinc and magnesium, known to boost energy, improve blood circulation, and stimulate the secretion of sex hormones.

“Please, enjoy!”

“…”

Yohan gulped nervously. While the food looked delicious and appetizing, that wasn’t why his throat felt tight.

‘Why does this feel strange?’

He had been out all night without notice, so he expected Francia to be upset when he returned to the residence.

He’d even prepared to calm her down.

Yet Francia welcomed him with a smile.

Granted, her smile was slightly… mischievous.

A chill crept up Yohan’s neck.

‘This is unsettling.’

And, to some degree, frightening. Her behavior was more nerve-wracking than an outright argument.

“…Aren’t you eating?”

When Yohan hesitated with his utensils in hand, Francia’s voice dropped slightly.

“Haha… Of course, I will. Thank you.”

He forced an awkward laugh and began eating. The food was undoubtedly delicious, crafted by the renowned chefs of the Fervache household.

But it was difficult to focus solely on the taste.

“Yohan.”

“Yes?”

“You slept with Lady Bismarck, didn’t you?”

“Cough—!”

Francia’s direct question made Yohan choke. She immediately handed him a glass of water.

“Here, drink some water.”

“…Thank you.”

Yohan quickly quenched his throat and looked directly at Francia. Her expression didn’t show much anger.

“So, did you?”

“…Yes.”

After a brief hesitation, Yohan answered honestly.

“Hmm. I already knew.”

“…”

“Was it good?”

“…”

Yohan couldn’t bring himself to lie and say the night with Rudella had been unsatisfying. Not only would it be rude to her, but truthfully…

It had been one of the best experiences of his life.

“Hmm… So, it was good.”

Francia’s shadowed eyes deepened when he didn’t deny it. Her gaze darkened, and her lips tightened into a thin line.

“Well, it’s fine. After all, Lady Bismarck is deserving of your love. I accepted the terms and allowed for polygamy. So no, I’m not upset. Not at all.”

Francia gave a small smile, locking eyes with Yohan as she added,

“But to make sure I don’t feel upset… You’ll need to pour plenty of love into me too, right?”

“…”

“You’re not too tired, are you? You’re not planning to avoid me, are you? Have I already lost your interest? Is that it?”

Her voice grew lower, her words faster. Her crimson eyes wavered intensely. Yohan quickly replied,

“Of course not! Hahaha…”

Although, in truth, he was a bit tired. What people called “post-nut clarity” had hit him hard—he had done it five times, after all.

‘It didn’t feel like enough back then…’

But as time passed and his desires subsided, his rational mind returned. With his lust sated, the thought of going again didn’t seem appealing.

But that didn’t mean he could run away now. No matter how kind and understanding Francia was, avoiding her in this situation would be an insult.

Yohan carefully opened his mouth.

“…Looks like tonight will be a long one.”

When he resumed eating, Francia beamed as she watched him put the food into his mouth.

“Indeed, tonight will be very long.”

She had no intention of letting Yohan sleep tonight.

***

Yohan opened his eyes.

“Ugh…”

With bleary eyes, he looked out the window. The sun was just rising, and judging by the faint chatter of the servants outside, it was morning.

What the…?

A sense of déjà vu washed over him.

Beside him lay Francia, sleeping soundly with a blissful expression on her face. His neck and shoulders bore bite marks, and his back stung from the scratches left by her nails.

The only difference from yesterday was the time he’d woken up.

Better get ready.

Yohan rose from the bed to prepare for work. Heading to the bathroom, he glanced at the mirror coated with mercury.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His face looked haggard, and his expression was utterly drained.

Not surprising—he had gone over ten rounds for two consecutive nights.

“Hah…”

With a deep sigh, Yohan mustered his remaining strength to freshen up and emerged from the bathroom. Francia was still fast asleep.

“Francia.”

Carefully, he shook her awake, knowing he had to leave for work.

“Mm… just a little longer…”

She groaned softly, curling up around her pillow. Moments like this, when she showed her vulnerable side, never failed to make him smile.

“It’s time to wake up. I have work today.”

“Ah…”

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her crimson eyes. She looked at Yohan and smiled bashfully.

“Hehe… I really need to see you in the morning.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do. It gives me energy for the day.”

Francia wriggled closer, wrapping her arms around his waist as he sat on the bed.

“Mmm… Yohan… huh?”

Suddenly, her expression turned serious. Her eyes locked onto something on Yohan’s side.

“Yohan, what is this?”

“What? What do you—”

Following her gaze, Yohan looked down at his side. There it was—a faint lipstick mark left by Rudella.

“Why is this still here…?”

“…”

Francia’s once-bright face darkened as if a shadow of dusk had fallen over her. Yohan froze, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“This won’t do.”

Francia slowly got out of bed. The lingering effects of last night’s activities made her movements awkward, but sheer determination drove her.

“Take another day off.”

“…Another day off?”

“Yes. I can’t let you leave like this.”

“Ah.”

Closing his eyes, Yohan nodded.

“Fine…”

Resisting her was impossible.

***

The capital city of Tenerope, atop the walls.

Dark storm clouds loomed low over the city, and the air was heavy with impending rain.

Below the walls stretched an endless wasteland, dotted sporadically with thorny bushes.

Pantein, the chancellor of Tenerope, walked slowly along the ramparts, surveying the surroundings. The barren land weighed heavily on his heart.

The soldiers standing guard wore worn-out armor, their blades dulled by use.

The precariousness of their survival was palpable.

Pantein’s gaze stopped at a distant point near the gates. A carriage was approaching, kicking up dust as it moved.

He squinted his eyes.

“What is that…?”

As he murmured, the knight escorting him responded.

“It’s His Highness, Fedelian.”

“Hmm.”

He stroked his chin with a reluctant expression. Fedelian Rozino—the former imperial crown prince who had been dethrone for conspiring rebellion.

And the man who barely kept the doomed kingdom of Tenerope on life support.

The carriage soon entered the gates, and Fedelian stepped out. Despite his Dethronement, he still wore an arrogant smile.

Pantein, the chancellor of Tenerope, hurried down from the city walls to greet him. Surrounding Fedelian were assassins cloaked in black robes.

“You’ve arrived, Your Highness.”

“Yes.”

Fedelian looked around and spoke.

“I’ve given you so much aid, yet this place still looks so bleak. Without my help, it might have collapsed already.”

“…”

Pantein pressed his lips together tightly. His words were not wrong. Tenerope was crumbling under corrupt ministers, incompetent leaders, and a king blinded by power.

Tenerope was a small kingdom bordering the southwest of the Rozino Empire.

Its southern border was constantly threatened by barbarian raids. With its small, barren territory, its foundation was inherently weak.

Yet the dynasty had managed to endure, thanks to one reason—a Grand Swordmaster, a rarity across the entire continent, resided here. Furthermore, his knightly order boasted overwhelming military power.

Even the southern barbarians hesitated to act rashly, knowing they risked annihilation.

The Rozino Empire was no different. While they could win an all-out war, the cost outweighed the potential gains. Thus, they refrained from meddling.

However, overwhelming military strength did not provide sustenance. Farming and hunting were still essential.

And in Tenerope, those were far from easy. Beasts roamed in abundance, leaving livestock scarce, and the barren land yielded poor harvests.

A kingdom with a death sentence looming.

Without Fedelian Rozino, it would have already fallen. The kingdom had long been on a path of decline, too late for recovery.

“What about the matter I spoke of? Surely the king has given his response by now.”

At his inquiry, Pantein handed over a bundle of letters carried by an attendant.

“Tenerope’s full forces are ready. Even the Grand Swordmaster, Duke Aegis, has agreed to the war.”

“Hmm.”

Fedelian nodded slowly, satisfied with the response.

“Well, they had no choice but to agree to war. They’ve truly reached the end of the road.”

Tenerope could no longer survive on its own.

Of course, there was another option for survival without the crown prince’s involvement.

“Well, they could bow their heads to Rozino and pledge allegiance in exchange for formal support, but the king would never allow that. It would weaken his royal authority.”

That meant swallowing their pride, swearing loyalty to the empire, and officially requesting aid.

But Tenelope’s king was a madman. The court was crawling with sycophants and incompetent ministers. The capable had long fled to other countries—or had been purged.

“Yes… That’s correct.”

Pantein sighed lightly and nodded.

Royal authority meant nothing. With citizens dying and the kingdom nearing collapse, what value did power hold?

Had they understood this earlier, the country might not have reached this point.

“Hmm…”

Fedelian reviewed the letters and documents one by one, then smirked slyly.

“Good. Once preparations are complete, let’s proceed. I trust Tenerope will pour its entire strength into this.”

“Yes, of course. The survival of the nation depends on it, and Tenerope stands to gain much from this war.”

If Fedelian’s rebellion succeeded and he reclaimed the throne, Tenerope could rise again. He would ensure their recovery, offering support in every way possible.

Of course, the price would be steep. The kingdom would become a vassal state of the empire. But was that truly a problem? The rotten leadership that had eaten away at the nation needed to be purged.

“Then, make preparations as quickly as possible, before the empire catches wind.”

A faint smile graced Fedelian’s lips.

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, but it merely required a detour. The destination remained the same.

‘Wait for me, Francia. I’ll come to claim you soon.’

Clenching his fist tightly, Fedelian’s eyes burned with determination.

‘And as for Yohan Lahart and Rudela Bismarck—don’t think for a second that you’ll get away unscathed.’

He would return everything he’d suffered—multiplied several times over.

That was Fedelian’s ironclad principle.

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