Chapter 879
Chapter 879
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 879
Chapter Title: Amusement (4)
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1.
The fierce sunlight beating down on her eyelids woke Linne, who had fallen asleep reeking of booze.
"Ughhh..."
Linne writhed like a caterpillar spinning its cocoon amid a hangover that felt like her skull was being cleaved in two.
She was used to all sorts of pain, but there was no withstanding the dizziness that hammered inside her head like dwarves ringing bells.
Linne had an absurdly low tolerance for alcohol, and the whiskey she'd sampled had been nearly half a bottle—a foregone conclusion.
Whiskey, after all, was the stuff that clocked in over 40 proof.
"Muuu... Water..."
Her tongue and throat weren't just dry—they felt cracked and splitting.
But she couldn't muster the will to sit up and hunt for water, so Linne just groaned and squirmed.
At least the bedding felt like a cozy cradle, her last bastion of comfort.
The sheets and pillow carried a pleasant scent that even her alcohol-saturated body odor couldn't fully mask.
A sweet-and-sour fragrance reminiscent of peach blossoms, perhaps?
It soothed her heart immensely.
But this scent...
"...?"
Like a pill bug doused with cold water, peeking only her face out from the covers, Linne's eyes suddenly widened.
No doubt about it.
This bedding smelled of the Tiferet Duke.
And the layout of this unfamiliar room was unmistakably her bedroom.
Linne never slept, after all—she'd tossed her own bed out of her room entirely.
"...Ah."
The moment she realized it, fragmented memories flickered to life in Linne's mind.
It had been a blackout-level bender, but unfortunately, the god of liquor hadn't claimed all her embarrassing moments.
No doubt a thoughtful lesson to remind her to drink in moderation from here on out.
The Tiferet Duke, the only one among Husband's lovers worthy of the title "rival."
What had she done in front of her?
A parade of Linne's priceless lines and scenes flashed by.
"Pet my head. As praise."
Begging for headpats first thing.
"Ugh, my head's spinning... My body's so heavy... Like a waterlogged cotton ball... But I feel all floaty and nice..."
Sharing her drunken感想 in the cutest tone.
"Why are you trying to pull away from me? Linne wants to stay stuck to you. You're warm and soft, and it feels good."
Clingy, sticky attachment.
"That's why... Hic! I'm saying it now. Listen and forget."
Her honest drunken confession.
"Those words... Those are the words I wanted to hear..."
Sobbing about her painful past.
"Lullaby... I wanna hear one..."
Asking for a lullaby.
"Mama... Mama..."
Especially calling her "Mama," the grand finale to Linne's nonstop spectacle of shame.
That was all she could recall in patches, and the terror of what else she might have done was horrifying.
Her face drained pale, Linne swallowed a scream.
Hangover agony and all else paled before the threat to her dignity.
Bolting upright, Linne checked herself over—and blanched even whiter.
"Ah..."
She was naked.
Throwing off the covers confirmed it: smooth, bare skin without a stitch on.
"No way."
Memory of her acting all cutesy and coquettish + blackout + waking in Tiferet's bed + naked.
The ominous premonition those keywords conjured.
Linne frantically inspected her body.
No sweat stench, no dried fluids—she was spotless.
But witches could snap their fingers for a cleaning spell.
Tidying up after "that" was child's play.
"..."
Linne felt her plush rear give way beneath her, a plummeting plunge.
She'd let her flower-scented purity, reserved solely for Husband, be claimed by another in her drunken haze.
A betrayal of her chastity, a horrific mistake against her man.
Of course, she'd shared a bed with Eloa before.
But Husband had been there too.
It was a competition under his permission and tacit approval.
To Linne, who held the ideal of the devoted wife as gospel, this was an unforgivable blunder.
All other black histories paled beside it.
At that moment.
"Awake at last? You look dreadful. This should settle your stomach some."
The door opened, and in walked Eloa in a bathrobe, cheeks flushed rosy from a recent wash.
"..."
Linne turned her head stiffly, like a rusted doll, to stare at Eloa.
She wanted to demand what happened, but terror of the truth sealed her lips.
So she gauged Eloa's vibe instead.
If anything had gone down last night, it would show in her demeanor.
"Your clothes are washed and put away. Don't just sit there—put on a robe at least."
"My clothes?"
"Your clothes, yes."
Linne's senses on high alert picked up the shift in Eloa.
There had been a thick wall between them before.
But now Eloa's gaze on her felt oddly warm, as if they'd torn it down together in her memory gap.
A chill prickled up her spine like ice picks jabbing.
"..."
"Forgot everything, have you?"
Eloa added, as if realizing, watching Linne's lips flap silently.
"That's right."
"What a shame. It was such a fun time."
"W-what do you mean, fun?"
"How ungrateful. To share such passionate intimacy and forget it all by morning."
The moment all her dread materialized.
"Ah..."
Linne collapsed like a squirrel whose acorn hoard had rotted away.
2.
Eloa revealed it had been a playful jest, watching Linne freeze in shock.
Nothing indecent had happened between them—Linne had simply stripped and gone to bed.
"Why make a joke like that?"
"Didn't expect you'd take it so seriously. Here, lemon water."
"Don't need it."
Linne was genuinely pissed.
Or rather, "pissed" felt too mild for the murderous edge to it.
Eloa might have felt guilty herself if not for last night's events.
But glimpsing Linne's vulnerable side had shifted her perspective.
Even when she bristled like a hedgehog, she seemed like a child in need of comfort.
Otherwise, Eloa wouldn't have teased her with such an uncharacteristic quip.
The two sat back down for work.
Linne broke the icy silence first.
"Last night was a mistake."
"I know."
"..."
No drunken bedding had occurred.
But her antics before Eloa went beyond what "blessed fortune amid misfortune" could excuse.
Linne fidgeted, unable to hide her anxiety as Eloa calmly flipped through documents.
This would become leverage against her someday.
"Tiferet."
"Yes?"
"Name your price."
"What's that out of the blue?"
Better to eliminate future troubles, even at a cost.
To Linne, who'd thrived in the world of public duty, it was obvious.
"...Last night's..."
Linne trailed off, fumbling.
She couldn't even indirectly mouth her own black history.
"...I mean, name your price."
"Hm? No need. I just lent you a spare bed, and the whiskey was too much for me alone anyway. Shall we share another sometime? With moderation, of course."
That wasn't it.
After last night's fiasco, Eloa couldn't possibly misunderstand.
Her casual suggestion of future drinks only grated more.
"Not that. Something else."
"Something else? Ah..."
Linne bristled at Eloa's amused smirk but held back.
She was the one on the back foot.
"Fine, I was thrown off, but seeing your adorable drunk side was reward enough. Who knew you had such a cute quirk?"
Eloa spoke with a playful lilt, like humoring an apprentice witch.
Startled at her own lack of irritation, Linne cut straight to end the awkwardness.
"Tiferet. This isn't a joke. If you ever use this as blackmail later, I won't stand by..."
Linne stopped as Eloa covered her mouth and laughed aloud.
"What's so funny?"
"Sorry. Up close, you're not so different from last night."
"..."
No words exchanged, but the laugh conveyed her intent.
Eloa would never use it as leverage.
Tension drained from Linne's rigid shoulders.
But why not?
If it were her, she'd have kept it as a trump card without hesitation.
At least extracted fair compensation.
"You two being all cozy without me? If it's fun, loop me in."
Dorothy barged in before the talk dragged on.
The tense air broke as Eloa and Linne turned to her.
Dorothy had holed up decoding the black mystic stone from the last hunt—a "Memorial Stone" packed with info.
Her late arrival meant it was time to discuss results.
Linne and Eloa donned serious faces.
"Any luck?"
"Half-decoded; the rest goes to the numerology folks. But whoa, it's wild. Duke, you gotta see this."
Dorothy opened her laptop.
She'd recorded and edited the footage from the Memorial Stone for easy viewing.
"Watch and give your thoughts?"
Her pale fingertip hit the spacebar, and the video played—edges refracting like gazing through a crystal ball.