Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: People Trapped in the Past (4)
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1.
Do you know?
That an extremely perky butt becomes so slick with sweat that it's nearly impossible to grip.
Sharon, whose ass was as firm and toned as a Pilates instructor's, was no exception.
Her white cheeks thrust skyward gleamed solely with the slippery lubricant of sweat mingled with her splashing juices.
"Haah... dar...ling... you're... too... muuuch... Kyaa!"
Sharon clung to the pillow like it might burst at any moment, her ass raised high as she took Siu's cock.
Each merciless thrust into her deep, tight pussy elicited staccato moans from her lips.
Her elegantly arched back writhed shamelessly, savoring every last drop of pleasure.
"Siu... Kyaa... Siuuu... Hnng...! J-just... a little... gent... tler... Haang!"
"Why? Isn't this what you wanted?"
After somehow ending up in bed...
Siu had firmly taken the reins.
In truth, this whole mess was entirely Siu's fault, with Sharon barely at blame.
So calling it "taking the reins" was really just him indulging her desires, letting her revel in the sex to her heart's content.
Of course, Siu happened to love this kind of play himself.
"You... kept... nag... ging me...! Hiuu! Haaang... I won't... do it... again...!"
"You knew you were sorry, so why do it?"
"Hauk... ugh... sor... ry..."
-Slap!
"Kyaa!"
His hand connected with Sharon's sweat-slicked ass, the satisfying give under his palm pure art.
Her full, moon-like cheeks already bore several red handprints from repeated spanks.
The way her flesh quivered with each strike, paired with her lewd cries, was downright addictive—impossible to stop.
"You knew you were sorry, so why'd you do it?"
"To... Hiiut... to get punished... by you... Kyang!"
By this point, who was right or wrong hardly mattered.
As Siu teased and tormented her, Sharon panted wildly, her submission kink fully sated.
A beautiful symbiotic relationship, plain as day.
"Now you move."
"O-okay... I'll... I'll do it... Uh... Hng... Hnng... Aaang...!"
Her pretty, upside-down peach of an ass.
Sharon kept her upper body bowed forward, rocking her hips back and forth to swallow and release Siu's cock over and over.
Even drenched in her juices, her pussy clung to him like mozzarella cheese, stretching and pulling with every motion.
They fucked several times a day without ever tiring because he got to watch Sharon change before his eyes.
The once cold and aloof Sharon had started draining him under the guise of "service," and now she yowled like a bitch in heat at his feet.
She shook her hips eagerly at his mischievous words.
Where else could he feel this rush of conquest?
"Hng... Hnng... Siu... I'm... I'm gonna cum... Hngut...!"
Suddenly, her inner walls clamped down tight, taking him to the hilt as she ground her hips in circles.
Her slender frame shuddered violently in orgasm.
Her toes curled tight.
Her thighs splayed wide, ass up high, those cute pussy folds twitching and pulsing in contraction and release.
Sharon clawing at the pillow—it was all right there in his view.
"Haa... haa... haa..."
"Not repentant enough. Who came first?"
"Sorry... I'm sorry... Hng... ugh..."
"How many times?"
"Three... I came three times... by myself..."
He hadn't even cum once, yet she'd climaxed thrice.
Siu swelled with pride at his improved skills and stamina, but he feigned sternness.
"Not good enough. On your knees."
"L-like this...?"
He gripped her ass firmly again as she knelt obediently on the bed, face down.
It looked just like she was prostrating naked in dogeza apology, and railing her from behind felt insanely hot.
He swept his palm over her soaked pussy like wiping with toilet paper.
Honey-thick love juices oozed out like a punctured honeycomb.
"Fuck me?"
"Hiiuk...! Y-yes... yes..."
"Say 'please fuck me.'"
Sharon lifted her bowed head slightly to glance back at him.
Her eyes, brimming with pathetic tears from repeated peaks, flashed a hint of 'that's too much...' hesitation.
But she steeled herself, face flushing deep red, and whispered low.
"P-please... fuck Sharon's... pussy... Kyaha!"
2.
A dream.
All of this was just a dream.
Eloa murmured in agony.
Like right after God had rained for forty days and nights to wash away sinful humanity.
The faded landscape lay submerged deep underwater.
The joyful time had returned once more.
The only place to see Rafi, now lost forever, was in dreams.
And the time of pain had returned.
The only place forcing her to face Rafi, now gone, was also dreams.
'Master!'
'I told you no.'
Rafi, pleading repeatedly, suddenly flared up at Eloa with blazing eyes.
It was a first for Eloa, who had raised her since infancy.
The obedient, sweet Rafi rebelling against her master, of all people.
'Why? With you, Master, we could take down any homunculus or public enemy!'
'Rafi, we are witches. Slaying homunculi and public enemies isn't our earthly duty. What we've been given is to ascend the hierarchies and...'
'Ascend the hierarchies? Get stronger? Achieve the feats of the Creation Witch? And then what?'
Rafi cut her off sharply.
It was a tone so fierce, unimaginable from her usual self.
That was how furious Rafi was.
She felt utter disillusionment toward witches who chased magical achievements over dying people—especially toward Eloa.
'Don't you get it yet? That's why witches live.'
'I hate that! People are dying! Is researching magic such a big deal? I can't accept it!'
'Rafi, you're just being stubborn.'
Out in the human world enjoying diversions with Eloa, Rafi had witnessed people dying to homunculi and public enemies.
And one question took root.
Why didn't witches, with all their power, protect people?
Why didn't they fight public enemies right in front of them?
Why couldn't witches live for humanity?
Eloa had a clear answer.
It wasn't a witch's calling.
A witch's goal was to reach higher realms of magic.
To Eloa Tiphereth—no, to most witches—it was an answer perilously close to truth.
Taught by the previous Tiphereth, after all.
Just as one must detach from all attachments to reach nirvana.
Just as one must sever worldly ties to ascend to immortality.
'A true witch stakes everything on achieving the secret realms. All else is secondary.'
Even among orthodox witches, Tiphereth was infamous for her rigid orthodoxy—and she meant it.
'Still don't understand?'
But to Eloa, this "truth" was Rafi's "wrong."
Born with innate kindness, the girl could never comprehend it.
Instead, hearing the same lines from Tiphereth as other witches only fueled her anger.
Not because she hated her beloved master.
Rather, she loved her so much that disappointment cast a heavy shadow.
From Rafi's bowed head came a choking sob.
'Master... you're a coward.'
'...What?'
'It's all excuses. All lies. Why is wanting to protect the innocent wrong?'
'Rafi!'
Back then, she hadn't paused to mull Rafi's words.
Instead, hearing rebuke from Rafi—who admired and followed her more than anyone—left her shocked and angry beyond endurance.
'I'll protect people with my own strength. I won't pretend not to see like you, Master!'
Rafi's voice thick with resentment.
At first, Eloa dismissed it as mere vitriol.
'I'll... protect people.'
But repeating the dream countless times, now she knew.
Rafi had wanted Eloa to change her mind.
To hear her words and break free from rigid, indoctrinated thinking.
But Eloa had been foolish then.
She'd made an irreversible choice.
'...Do as you please.'
'.......'
Rafi bowed her head.
Transparent droplets fell onto the hotel's brocade carpet.
Lips trembling repeatedly, Rafi turned and walked out without a word.
Eloa knew Rafi was leaving but didn't stop her.
She just needed time to process this unprecedented rebellion... or so she excused herself.
The hotel door slammed shut.
If she'd known that was Rafi's final sight...
Surely, she'd have chosen differently.
3.
Eloa opened her eyes.
A crushing pain stabbed her chest, while clammy sweat beaded unpleasantly on her forehead.
As always, fresh from thrashing in the nightmare, she couldn't even catch her breath.
"Haa... haa... haa..."
Tiphereth gasped like she'd sunk into ocean depths.
Hands clutching her face, she tore at her hair.
Curling like a bird fleeing storm winds, she reined in her overwhelming emotions until her breathing steadied somewhat.
"Ah..."
Sitting blankly on the bed, Eloa instinctively groped around.
No strong liquor by the bedside, as usual.
"Come to think of it..."
Her sense of time, lagged far behind alone, rewound like slack tape.
She'd invited Siu over today, treated him to dinner.
Got drunk, acted out... then passed out.
But waking in bed meant he'd carried her sleeping form here.
"........."
Eloa left the room.
To shower in cold water and chase the booze.
Through the window, predawn Seoul sprawled.
Tangled skyscrapers amid drab smog.
Dawn sliced diagonally through, tearing night's darkness with brilliant charge.
Yet even light brightening half the world couldn't erase Eloa's shadow.
Standing in the room's slanted gloom, she gazed indifferently before turning away.
Like the raw agony right after anesthesia fades.
This post-dream haze was her day's cruelest, longest stretch.
Eloa pulled rum from the shelf, twisted the cork free.
Fiery liquor scorched her throat, warming her gut.
Once shunned for making her body reel and mind slack, booze was now priceless—more vital than water, her essential painkiller.
As she started another ordinary day, something caught Eloa's eye.
The dining table, neatly cleared.
"He cleaned up and left while I was out..."
Eloa ran a hand over the table.
Dishes once strewn about were washed and put away.
No ghost did it—Siu must have laid her in bed, then tidied.
Such a good boy.
Despite the initial misunderstanding, his little actions kept raising her opinion.
It was surely loneliness.
Pain.
If Siu, inheritor of Rafi's vessel, stayed by her side like a disciple.
Even mere self-deception might bring solace.
She could give him what she couldn't give Rafi.
-Thud!
But Eloa's musing cut short.
She sensed a deep, intense mana pulse.
Faint, as if from afar, yet her senses sharpened.
Strings etched deep beneath her skin, muscles, bones amplified her mana detection.
She caught every ripple, always.
"What...?"
But this pulse felt different from any before.
Seemed distant, yet was close.
Like sensing a landslide's tremor from miles away.
Something blocked the mana waves, but their sheer intensity pierced through.
Eloa's gaze lifted to the ceiling.
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