By Zephyria 
“I’ve come to celebrate the end of our war.”
A sweet scent wafted through the air along with his relaxed voice. It was this man’s pheromone. As the forgotten scent hit the tip of my nose, the fine hairs all over my body suddenly stood on end.
“Drink? Now? With me?”
The suggestion was so absurd that I couldn’t even form a proper sentence, asking with a frown. He answered nonchalantly.
“You said coffee was out, but you never mentioned that champagne was off the table.”
“……Hah.”
Where should I even begin to refute this sophistry? It was as ridiculous as the argument that Davis’s crime was an act of self-defense. However, one thing was certain.
This man would not leave this place easily.
“Champagne? What are you talking about all of a sudden? Why on earth should I drink champagne with you?”
As I crossed my arms and glared at him, the man replied casually.
“The trial is over, so we should celebrate.”
Having said that, Nathaniel Miller added brazenly, “Or should I say we’re celebrating the ceasefire?”
To be precise, the case had been closed. However, instead of pointing out his choice of words, I highlighted a different point.
“Did I promise to sleep with you once the trial ended?”
I wanted to sound cold, but my voice betrayed me and trembled. The moment I felt the frustration of that slip, Nathaniel wore a peculiar smile. As if he could see right through my nervous inner thoughts, he gazed at me with cool purple eyes.
“Well, does that even matter to me?”
Nathaniel’s answer was sufficient. At the same time, my mind went cold. This man was essentially saying: I don’t care about your consent.
Suddenly, a taut tension stretched between us.
Stay calm. This is my home.
I tried to clear my head quickly. Yes, this is where I live. Therefore, I have the advantage. If worst comes to the worst, I can call the police. Quickly gauging the distance to the door, I thought that since the studio had poor soundproofing, people would report it to the police immediately if a ruckus broke out.
Despite that, I was nervous. My studio was too small, Nathaniel Miller was too large, and there were only the two of us here. Why did I let this man inside in the first place? No, that wasn’t my choice either. This man had simply barged his way in. Into my room, into my home… into my life.
He was still sitting in my chair, leaning back casually and watching me.
Contrary to his words, he showed no movement. Despite speaking as if he would knock me down and ruthlessly spread my legs at any moment, he remained naturally still, as if nothing were going to happen.
“So.”
I spoke carefully, making sure my voice didn’t tremble again.
“All I have to do is drink champagne with you, is that it?”
Without waiting for an answer, I snatched the box from him. I strode to the kitchen, set it on the sink, and opened the cupboard. There was no way I had champagne glasses in my house. I took out a mug I had received as a souvenir during college and a cheap plastic cup I’d bought on sale recently, then turned around. Offering him the mug was the bare minimum of courtesy for a guest.
As I poured the 1996 Dom Pérignon into the mug, Nathaniel curled the corners of his lips as if amused.
“What a novel experience.”
Of course it is, I thought indifferently, pouring my share of the champagne into the plastic cup. Since I wasn’t in the mood for a toast, I downed my glass in one go. Nathaniel watched me, then brought his cup to his lips. I watched him tilt his head back and empty the champagne in one gulp, just as I had. Waiting for him, I refilled his empty cup and then my own, emptying it instantly. Nathaniel repeated the action, though his pace slowed slightly. And just as I was about to pour the last of the wine into my cup— Nathaniel Miller’s large hand covered mine, which was gripping the bottle. The touch was so natural and soft that I questioned whether he was actually trying to stop me.
“Prosecutor.”
He spoke in that same leisurely voice.
“It would be problematic if you threw another punch at my face.”
He was referring to the incident at the swimming pool. Since I had been regretting my unsightly behavior that day, I answered reluctantly.
“I was very drunk that day.”
Despite my confession, he didn’t let go. Keeping his hand over the back of mine, Nathaniel asked, “And today?”
He seemed to be teasing me. He must know it’s absurd to get drunk on just two glasses of champagne.
“I wonder.”
I looked Nathaniel Miller in the face and replied, “Why don’t you find out?”
Nathaniel’s gaze remained fixed on my eyes. Slowly, his long fingers moved. I saw him take the champagne bottle from my hand and place it on the table.
Nathaniel Miller tilted his head. As if checking for the scent of alcohol on me, he lingered close to my skin and breathed slowly. I felt his warm breath. On my cheek, by my ear, on my neck.
“Chrissy Jin.”
He whispered over my shoulder, exposed by my loose-fitting t-shirt.
“You’re going to sleep with me anyway.”
With every word he spoke, his breath traveled along my skin. The low sound of his breathing tickled my ear. Then, Nathaniel advised me in an even lower voice, “I think it’ll hurt less if you open up yourself rather than being forced.”
I instinctively clenched my fists. It felt as if his lips were about to touch my skin at any second. The sensation of him roughly rubbing and sucking felt so real that I almost gasped as if screaming.
Yet, he waited. Despite having said that raping me would be nothing, he waited until I said yes. It was as if he were warning me that everything that happened from here on would be with my consent.
Right.
Suddenly, it occurred to me.
What does any of this matter? Whether I suck this man’s cock or another man’s, nothing in the world is going to change.
If I’ve already lost, I might as well lie flat on the floor.
But before surrendering completely, there was one thing I had to verify. As Nathaniel Miller took a step toward me, I took a step back and spoke.
“I don’t sleep with men who have a serious partner.”
“A serious partner? Me?”
Nathaniel immediately frowned. That reaction made him look innocent for a moment, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it.
“Aveline, that woman I saw back then. The model.”
At my words, Nathaniel blinked as if searching his memory, then let out a scoff of disbelief.
“My god, a serious partner? Aveline and I?”
After a sharp, irritable laugh, he frowned and asked with annoyance, “Do you think I’d marry a woman like that?”
His words were dripping with arrogance. In short, a model whose only merit was a bit of fame was not on his level. Of course, I was likely included in that category as well.
“I can’t trust your word. Prove it—that you have nothing going on with her.”
Fully aware that I was also an unsuitable partner, I stubbornly spat out, “Make that clear first, so that I can believe you.”
Nathaniel Miller shook his head as if exhausted.
“You really are demanding.”
His tone suggested he might say, ‘You’re not worth the effort,’ and leave right then and there. But instead of walking away, he remained in place, stroking his chin and thinking for a moment. As if trying to come up with a method.
Without taking much time—perhaps only three or four seconds—Nathaniel made a proposal.
“Then shall I call her here? I don’t mind if the three of us do it.”
I was absolutely appalled by the outrageous suggestion.
“What are you talking about? The three of us?”
I cried out loudly, almost like a scream, but Nathaniel instead frowned and raised an objection.
“Wouldn’t it be strange to ask her to come just to watch me sleep with you? Unless I let her join in the play. Or do you actually want me to call her all the way here just to tell you that I’m not in a serious relationship with her?”
His point was so logical that I was left speechless. All three methods Nathaniel mentioned were absurd. It would be incredibly rude to her, and naturally, something that should not be done.
But then, how was I to prove his words?
I was caught in a deadlock. In this situation, I had no choice but to believe Nathaniel Miller. If I assumed that whatever evidence he provided was true, then why did I need evidence in the first place? I could just say that he fabricated it anyway.
“……Don’t call her. There’s no need for that.”
In the end, that was all I could say. Now, only my choice remained. Whether to believe this man’s arrogance or not.
I slowly opened my mouth. As I took a shallow breath to speak, the sweet scent seeped into my mouth. Soon after, I let out the next words like a sigh.
“As long as you don’t put it under me, fine.”
At my voice, which had faded into a breath, Nathaniel stopped moving. A tense silence followed.
“Then.”
He pressed down firmly on my chin to part my lips.
“I guess I’ll just have to put it on top?”
Instead of answering, I grabbed him by the collar and roughly pressed my lips against his.