The Poisoned Kiss
Canna violently shook off his hand.
The moment his body heat left her, the air that had burned so fiercely cooled in an instant.
Everything shattered and ended.
The heat, the trembling, the pain—everything.
Canna rose to her feet and looked down at him. She confirmed the face of a pitiful loser who could never win again.
As expected, Orsini was seething with rage. He glared at her with eyes like a yaksha. It was only natural—he had been forcibly stripped bare, plundered like prey.
“What’s wrong?”
Yet Canna simply smiled at him with perfect composure.
“Is there a problem?”
She asked it as brightly as if she had merely given him a casual goodnight kiss. If she acted like this, it would surely flip his insides.
Sure enough, Orsini’s face twisted violently. But he couldn’t say a single word.
“Sleep well.”
Canna spun on her heel. She walked to the bed and slipped beneath the soft blankets.
In truth, she wanted to burst into loud laughter, but provoking him any further would be dangerous.
She simply lifted the corners of her mouth in silent amusement.
‘So even you have your limits, Orsini.’
Thanks to this, things would be easier than she had expected.
Still, she couldn’t let her guard down. Orsini was different from Callen.
He was a beast that could never be perfectly tamed. The moment she turned her back, he might pounce and sink his teeth into her.
Hadn’t she already experienced that once? For now he had become quite obedient again, but there was no telling when he might turn on her.
Even so, Canna had discovered the moment when he became completely powerless. If she had possessed the poisoned needle ring just moments ago, she would have succeeded in killing him.
‘Fortunately, that ring isn’t everything.’
Canna closed her eyes in satisfaction.
Though the sensation of Orsini’s lips lingering on hers was unpleasant, she had gained something in return. And it was something very big indeed.
The precarious companionship with Orsini continued.
After what happened the previous night, Canna knew she had seized his weakness, and he knew she had caught him by his own.
Yet neither of them spoke a word about it. They barely conversed at all.
He simply followed her like a hunting dog chasing its prey. His gaze was so persistent that he never once looked away from her.
He even shared the same space while she slept. Canna, who had her own plans, simply let him be.
But what on earth was Orsini thinking?
‘What exactly is that bastard planning?’
After that night, Canna had thought she understood his intentions.
She assumed it would flow similarly to how things had gone with Callen.
Like him, Orsini would want love, attention, or at the very least physical intimacy.
That was what she had believed. Yet he demanded nothing. He asked no questions about her future plans, nor did he speak of what lay ahead.
‘What does he want from me?’
She had intended to respond according to his next moves, but his silence left her no choice. Anyone could see that the only option was to use forceful measures to shake him off.
“Orsini, could you button this for me?”
When Canna asked, Orsini, who had been leaning against the window and staring outside, obediently approached.
The sight was exactly like a dog. Not a well-trained, obedient one, but a hunting dog that might bite at any moment.
He stepped right up behind her. Then he spoke in a low voice.
“Lift your hair.”
Canna gathered her long locks into one hand and lifted them high.
Her long, slender neck and the smooth line of her back were faintly revealed through the gap in her clothes.
With an expressionless face, Orsini reached out and began fastening the buttons from the bottom up.
Canna watched him through the mirror. His firm fingertips occasionally brushed along her spine, but his face remained unchanged.
Once he had fastened every button, Canna let her hair fall back down. Then she said,
“I’m going to the night market.”
Orsini gave no reply. He simply followed silently behind her.
The night market was bustling as if every villager had come out. As Canna pushed through the crowd, she bumped shoulders with people several times.
“Are you a scarecrow?”
Orsini, unable to watch any longer, clicked his tongue and stepped in front of her. Then he held out his hand.
“Hey. Give me your hand.”
Canna frowned. She didn’t want to. Orsini spoke gruffly.
“Then you walk in front.”
Ah, so he was worried she might run away while he followed behind. Normally she would have slapped his palm away and refused. But—
“……!”
The moment their hands gently overlapped, Orsini’s eyebrows stiffened. He clearly hadn’t expected her to actually take it.
“What are you doing? Let’s go.”
It was too dark to see clearly, but his earlobes seemed to have turned red.
“Wait. I want to try that.”
While exploring the night market, Canna stopped several times to taste street food and buy small handicrafts. Naturally, the money came from Orsini.
“Aigoo, is the husband buying his wife a gift? What a handsome couple.”
Because of that, they were naturally mistaken for lovers. Canna simply let out a small laugh and didn’t bother correcting them.
“They’re doing a play over there. Let’s go watch.”
This time she was the one who suddenly grabbed Orsini’s hand. He froze in place.
“What’s wrong?”
“……You.”
Orsini’s expression was incredibly complicated.
Yet in the end he couldn’t finish his sentence and was pulled along by her hand toward the square.
“Let’s sit and watch for a while.”
The play was boring.
It was the story of a tree spirit that survived by killing other spirits, stealing their life force, and eventually becoming the king of the trees.
It really was tedious. Canna kept nodding off until she finally let her head drop against Orsini’s shoulder.
“…….”
Orsini didn’t move.
He simply stared blankly at the clumsy performance with an empty face. But his eyes held nothing.
He breathed carefully, then slowly lowered his gaze to look at her as she rested against his shoulder.
Canna’s cheek, bathed in the firelight, had flushed a soft red.
He gazed down at her for a very long time.
Until the ridiculous play finally ended.
On the way back, they witnessed a boy beating a girl.
“You stole my money, you little rat bitch!”
“Aack! N-no I didn’t!”
“There was no one else in the room! It had to be you!”
“What are you two doing! Stop it right now!”
A man who appeared to be the father rushed in to intervene. Canna looked up at Orsini.
His face had hardened.
He was probably recalling the same memory she was—the moment when a young Orsini had mercilessly beaten a young Canna. With the very same large hand that now enveloped hers.
“What are you doing? Let’s go.”
Canna tugged at Orsini’s hand as he stood frozen in place.
He said nothing.
They returned to their room. Beyond the bathroom door came the sound of Orsini washing himself.
While he cleaned up, Canna took out her belongings and organized them one by one.
Finally… the bottles filled with star candies.
There were five glass bottles in total. One changed hair color, another changed eye color, and the rest…
‘Was it this one?’
Canna took out a bright red star candy.
This was it.
“What are you doing?”
As she was packing, Orsini’s voice came from behind her.
“I asked what you’re doing.”
Canna turned around. Orsini stood there in a pure white robe, glaring at her.
His skin, fresh from the bath, gleamed smoothly, and water dripped steadily from his wet hair.
He strode over and sharply scanned her luggage. But he only looked. Whether due to some personal principle or not, he didn’t reach out to rummage through the bag.
“I was organizing my things.”
Canna spoke gently.
“If you’re looking for self-defense drugs, there aren’t any. Callen took them all.”
At her words, Orsini’s gaze snapped toward her.
“You remember, don’t you? Those drugs I poured onto your chest before.”
She slowly lowered her eyes. Past his sharp jaw and long neck, past his hollow collarbone, she stared at the chest revealed between the open folds of his robe.
When they had reunited after so long, she had poured those drugs onto that very spot.
“It hurt a lot, didn’t it?”
Orsini swallowed.
She was only looking, yet he seemed to feel the path of her gaze with extreme sensitivity.
Was it because he was a swordsman with heightened senses? Or because it was her gaze?
Probably both.
“Did it leave a scar?”
“A little.”
“Shall I take a look?”
Canna took one step closer to him. That alone seemed to make his heated presence scorch her skin.
He really tensed up over the smallest things.
She couldn’t tell if he was innocent or if she truly held that much sexual appeal for him.
Curious, Canna parted his robe. A faint scar was visible above his right pectoral.
The scar she had left.
“It must have hurt.”
She spoke with feigned sympathy and traced the scar with her fingertips.
The moment she touched the firm texture, he sharply inhaled. Then he snatched her hand.
“What the hell are you doing?”
His face, flushed bright red, was contorted.
It was amusing how he shook every time she touched or rattled him, and how he felt humiliated by that fact each time.
Canna smiled and caught his hand in return.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Don’t play your little games.”
A voice full of rage slipped through his clenched teeth.
He knew his own situation very well. It was rather admirable that he didn’t harbor any vain expectations.
Still, it couldn’t be helped. Not with him.
“And if I am playing games?”
Canna took another step closer.
“What will you do if I am?”
She raised the hand he wasn’t holding and placed it on his left chest.
“Wow, it’s incredible.”
Canna laughed mockingly.
It truly was incredible. His heart was pounding so wildly it felt as though it would burst right into her palm.
“It’s a miracle it hasn’t exploded yet.”
She sneered and slid her hand upward. She stroked along his solid neck and caressed his sharp jaw.
And then his lips. She traced his burning red lips with her fingertips. His lips were twitching in pitiful spasms.
‘He’s too tall.’
His excessive height was inconvenient. Canna pushed firmly against his chest.
He stepped back with ridiculous obedience and collapsed onto the sofa.
Canna climbed onto his thighs. As she settled her weight, she whispered teasingly.
“I’ve thought this before, but did you know your words and your body are completely at odds?”
“Fuck… you……”
Canna lifted Orsini’s chin. In that instant, she saw him forget every word he wanted to say.
“See? Even now, you’re like this.”
As she whispered and drew closer, their breaths mingled. His ragged breathing made him sound like a man on the verge of death.
“Close your eyes.”
Just before their lips met, Canna commanded.
The moment his eyelids helplessly fell shut—
Canna slipped the star candy into her mouth.
Then she pressed her lips to his. The instant their hot flesh perfectly overlapped, his large hands instinctively seized her waist and yanked her forward with fierce strength.
Canna willingly pressed her body against his and tilted her head. She threaded her fingers into his hair. As their body heat tangled violently, a boiling groan escaped him.
Some time later, Canna pulled away, breathing hard.
In that moment, his world was a blissful hell. A burning heaven.
Orsini panted, drenched in agony.
“What the hell did you feed me?”
Orsini already knew.
What Canna had done.
He had felt something roll into his mouth and slide down his throat.
Even so, he couldn’t stop.
Like a moth flying into the flame despite knowing it would burn to death, he had thrown himself into the scorching fire.
“What do you think I fed you?”
“Tell me.”
“It’ll make you sad if I do.”
“Is it poison?”
Canna didn’t answer.
Instead, she smiled at him with her swollen red lips. Like a gift. Like pity.
“Goddamn it. You really are a terrible bitch.”
“Still, you enjoyed today, didn’t you?”
Canna had given him the best day of his life. Orsini could not deny it.
Yes. Today had been the greatest day of his entire life. Every minute and second had felt like a dream, so thrilling that he wished he could remain trapped in this day forever.
“Think of it as payment for that.”
Like a demon who granted wishes only to steal the soul, Canna smiled.
“Goodbye, Orsini.”