Chapter 657
Chapter 657
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 657
Chapter Title: Caught (3)
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"Alright, I won. Victory is mine."
Si-woo clenched his fist in triumph after successfully fending off Rinne's brazen advance with an even more brazen counter.
Some might call it a pyrrhic victory marred only by wounds, but strictly speaking, he hadn't lied a bit, so his honor remained spotless.
As he consoled himself with the thought that diverting her attention with his flashy rhetoric was victory enough...
"......"
Rinne had returned to her room and was sitting quietly with her eyes closed.
It was for meditation.
Even without Si-woo around, her routine hardly changed.
She spent half the day swinging her sword in the training grounds and the other half meditating, seeking a clearer path to the sword.
The only difference was whether she had a sparring partner.
"Hoo."
Her meditation began with the final exhalation and a lingering sense of calm.
As an activity that filled nearly half her long life, Rinne's meditations were flawless.
Her body struck a perfect balance—not too tense, not too lax.
Her breaths came so slow and steady that a feather held to her nose wouldn't stir.
With eyes closed, the illusions clouding her mind scattered, stray thoughts evaporated.
Through inner dialogue, she stepped into a transcendent realm of imagery.
"......"
Or so it should have gone.
Yet fine cracks spiderwebbed across the face that should have held serene composure.
Just five minutes earlier.
It was all because of the crude words her temporary disciple had uttered.
'I like doing it from behind.'
'Seems like you don't get it, so let me explain again.'
'Well, women have two holes, right? Not the front one—there's another one in the back.'
'I like shoving it in there, pounding her down, and thrusting away.'
'Oh, and ideally, treating her like a slave and making her pant like a bitch in heat—that's the best.'
Rinne had no interest in judging good from evil.
Whether he was secretly a serial rapist or harbored tastes so depraved they drew the world's scorn—she had no urge to condemn him.
Hadn't she herself considered mingling bodies with her temporary disciple if circumstances demanded it?
Chastity and purity meant nothing to her.
She had to grow stronger.
Life forgave no weakness.
The curse endlessly whispering from the darkness at her back, jaws agape.
To cast off that horrific noose, any means would serve—no matter how ruthless.
But for the first time in her life, Rinne was utterly convinced that even means had their limits.
Mere strings of words wriggled in her ears like worms poured from a jar—utterly repulsive.
"...Filthy cur."
-Splash splash
Unable to bear it, Rinne fetched a basin of water and washed her ears.
2.
Last night, he'd briefly reviewed the case progress with Yebin before bed.
Dawn broke.
Without questions or arguments, they dove straight into sparring.
Rinne, whom he'd faced in the training grounds since first light, wore an intensely prickly expression.
What to call it...
Up until now, there had been a subtle mix of faint goodwill toward a fellow traveler on the same path—or at least a quiet competitive spark.
But now, it felt like facing someone caked in filth, a delicate distance hanging in the air.
That was precisely the reaction he'd aimed for.
No matter how headstrong Rinne was, she wouldn't force sex under those brutal conditions.
"Pick up your spear."
Rinne raised her sword as she spoke.
Finally, he could breathe easy.
Even if he'd bluffed with conditions she couldn't easily swallow, the anxiety hadn't vanished.
Heaven forbid she mulled it over and decided to go along anyway—that would spell real trouble.
He'd hammered the "back" angle relentlessly to cover even that possibility, but would that flimsy lie hold forever?
If there was no reaction after a few tries, she'd naturally experiment with other options—the front hole, most likely.
In other words, nipping it in the bud from the start was crucial.
If her reluctance faded too shallowly, things could escalate into the act itself.
The sparring kicked off that way and proceeded as usual.
Or rather, not quite.
Rinne's swordplay was more emotional than usual, whipping through the air with far fiercer whooshes.
She'd clearly taken a massive dislike to him...
Si-woo had no choice but to trust it was the best play.
He rolled on the dirt until grit filled his mouth, taking a thorough beating through their sparring session.
The moment Yebin healed him twice and he reformed his spear...
Something unbelievable happened.
"Sparring ends here for today."
"Pardon?"
Now he understood the bewilderment Rinne must have felt yesterday upon hearing his anal creampie declaration.
He'd caught every syllable, yet his brain flat-out refused to process it.
Only ten hours had passed since they started.
His limbs weren't severed, Yebin's mana wasn't depleted—yet this Rinne was calling a mid-session break?
"Got an appointment or something?"
Anxiety crashed over him a beat late.
It'd feel more realistic if Rinne got sliced by a blade and teared up with a "Ow, it hu~rts..." while begging for a bunny bandage.
"No."
One possibility surfaced.
"I'm going to wash up. Follow me."
No way she was serious about that?
Dispersing his shadow spear, Si-woo dazedly trailed Rinne's back as she headed for the hot springs.
No—not confirmed yet.
No matter how hard he cranked his mental graphics card, he couldn't picture Rinne accommodating his tastes.
In some ways more straitlaced than his master, she surely meant the worst hadn't come.
Si-woo silently followed, wrapped a large towel around himself, and bathed alongside Rinne.
Nothing happened in the bath.
After a quick purification spell to cleanse their bodies, they dipped briefly—like blanching vegetables in shabu-shabu broth—then emerged.
Not a word exchanged.
Upon leaving the bathhouse, Rinne dragged him straight into the tea room.
This spot being the most secluded nook in all of Hyangwolru gnawed at him.
Was he the only one thinking it was perfect for a secret rendezvous?
Unlike Si-woo, who felt like he was sitting on a bed of nails, Rinne showed no sign of unease as she set water to boil.
Once more, her movements were a textbook of restrained tea ceremony grace.
Her home, her mannerisms—hadn't she been some castle lord's daughter before becoming a witch?
Only after receiving the frothy matcha she'd prepared did their stalled conversation resume.
"What's this about?"
He asked cautiously, like skimming thin wax from the surface.
But Rinne, sipping her tea with a soft slurp, offered no reply.
In one sense, it was as expected; in another, the answer transcended imagination.
It came after she'd drained her cup completely.
"I'll do it."
"Do what?"
"Have sex with you."
Rinne probed his intent with clear, unambiguous words, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
Three times was the charm, it seemed.
It hit him like a blow to the head.
Even if she craved strength that badly, was she that desperate to humor the grotesque tastes he'd deliberately laid out?
And firm enough to resolve it in just one day?
Before the rigidly frozen Si-woo, Rinne continued calmly as ever.
"Of course, I have no intention of indulging every one of your filthy, depraved tastes."
Those were the tensest words yet.
No intent to indulge meant ordinary sex—and if she noticed his persistent avoidance of creampies, she'd sniff out the truth in no time.
"Take off your clothes."
With that, Rinne rose, her hands drifting to the sash of her training robes.
He racked his brain desperately...
But there were no more excuses to cobble together.
Checkmate.
Rinne's resolve had surpassed Si-woo's slippery tongue.
The end had arrived for dodging with nonsense and fancy footwork.
As his defenses crumbled...
A single ray of light pierced the tea room alongside the moonlight.
"I'll allow you to do it from behind."
"......"
To sum up:
The noble master had zero interest in debasing herself with slave play—but the back door was on the table.
Not quite checkmate; more like check-in. A solid parry.
-Rustle
Before he could utter a word, her robes slipped away.
Rinne's bare form, back turned to him, stood at a slight angle.
Alluring skin gleamed through the half-fallen black training robes.
"One more condition."
She glanced back slightly.
Her neat sidelocks shaded eyes that gleamed sharply.
"I won't pant like a bitch in heat or put on any coquettish act."
"......"
Oh right—he'd said that too.
Bluntly vulgar coming from her lips.
"Nor will I lie beneath you. We'll do it just like this."
This position: legs slightly spread, standing.
Yes.
Just standing there.
Not impossible, but could it even work?
-Plop
At last, every garment shed like a snakeskin.
Her snowy, elastic rear—glimpsed fleetingly in the bath—fully bared.
Her round buttocks, plump as the moon, suited the word "ongdoni" more than any other: perfectly full and bountiful.
"Before that—don't resist."
Black mana gathered in Rinne's hand.
Her strike shot out like a beam of light, jabbing key points across Si-woo's body.
Mana-packed fingertips dug in hard enough to bruise mana circuits.
"Ack!"
Clots of black mana blocked his circuits, instantly suppressing his mana flow.
Of course, he could dispel it with focus—but she'd counter the moment she sensed it.
Likely a bulwark to keep him from standing defenseless behind her.
With her safeguard in place, Rinne eyed him like: Well? Undress already.
"Begin."
"Hoo..."
Any man born who wouldn't enjoy ravishing a beautiful woman with abandon would be lying.
But no matter how bold or lusty, no man craves a heart-stopping screw where one slip means life in ruins forever.
Yet.
The dice were cast.
Si-woo dropped his pants and took his place behind Rinne.