The Elf Who Craves Intimacy (3)
Life has a way of throwing the most bizarre curveballs at you when you least expect them. As a fragment of innocent history, the past's eccentric episodes can resurface and bite you in the present—Lerazie knew that all too well. But she could swear on her life that the grotesque situation unfolding before her eyes was a turning point even she, with her centuries of existence, had never encountered.
"Hehe."
Serredi giggled vacantly. That alone sent a ferocious shock through Lerazie. How many beings in existence could smile in the presence of the Grand Duke who ruled the Realm of Lustful Hell, the Queen of Dream Demons? Aside from her fellow Grand Dukes or Baal, the Demon King known as the Great Archfiend, no one in the Magic Realm—not a single soul—dared or should dare to smirk before Lerazie.
Yet here was Serredi, a mere dream demon, grinning at her queen. It could only mean one thing: the girl had lost her mind. No wordplay or metaphor about it—Serredi was literally out of her wits.
Who the hell would do something this cruel...
Lerazie gritted her teeth with a groan. Her blood-red bob haircut framed devilish horns of bone that vibrated at her temples, while the whites of her pitch-black eyes turned crimson with rage. Sharp fangs protruded from her clenched jaws. An indescribable emotion surged from deep within her.
"Which bastard did this to you?"
Lerazie raised a hand and gently stroked Serredi's dazed hair. But the more she touched, the clearer the perpetrator's cruel intent became, until she couldn't hold back her fury and gripped the strands tightly.
"Which goddamn bastard!"
Kuuuung—!
The air around Lerazie shook as if an earthquake had struck. Nearby eunuchs, lined up in attendance, jumped in terror and dropped to their knees.
"G-Grand Duke!"
"Please compose yourself!"
"Your Grace! You must maintain your dignity!"
As the eunuchs' frantic cries filled the air, Lerazie finally calmed her heart and reined in the demonic aura she'd unleashed.
"Hehe."
But Serredi still wore that smiling face. She'd been right in the face of a Grand Duke of Hell's mana burst, yet not a trace of fear or terror showed on her. Lerazie's head began to throb.
Damn it. She's been perfectly broken.
Whatever had happened during her mission, Serredi's world had shut down completely. It would take years for her to recover. In other words, someone could use her like a slave in the meantime. And yet, they hadn't. They'd sent her back to the Magic Realm like she was disposable.
...It's a warning, plain as day.
Don't pull any tricks. Do it again, and I'll make you end up just like her.
The message via Serredi was so blatant it made Lerazie's teeth grind.
But who the hell would pull off something like this?
She'd once suspected Eligos, Grand Duke of the Innocent Hell, but now she wasn't so sure. Demons might lack deep bonds with their kin, but they didn't usually torment each other to the point of insanity. Especially not Eligos, who was keenly aware of his status as a Grand Duke.
So who the hell was lending power to Theorad?
No matter how she racked her brain, no one specific came to mind.
The bishop too... Turning Serredi into a vegetable overnight isn't something just anyone could do.
The mystery deepened. It was enough to pique Lerazie's curiosity, but she couldn't indulge it now. Not long ago, Baal—the supreme being above all demons—had issued a summons to the Grand Dukes of Hell. And the meeting was today. She had to shelve personal matters for the time being.
With a heavy sigh, Lerazie pushed Serredi aside and checked her attire. A crimson dress matching her hair draped luxuriously over her curves.
A summons after all this time.
Baal usually called them when humans were stirring up trouble, but this one was likely due to the Esteban Empire. Their recent movements were suspicious. The emperor wasn't just colluding with the Church—he was rallying the warlords scattered across the empire. Rumors of potential war were swirling not just in the Magic Realm but in the human world too. Precautions were necessary.
Ugh, war? No thanks.
Lerazie loved the scent of semen but hated the smell of blood and burning flesh. Of course, unless the emperor had lost his mind, he wouldn't start a war. He was probably just using the warlike atmosphere to consolidate imperial power. Still, preparing for the worst was wise, whatever the reason. The tedium of a long meeting irked her, but leaders always bore such burdens.
"You lot, guard the house well."
Glancing sharply at the eunuchs, Lerazie strode out of the Grand Duke's palace and kicked off the ground lightly.
Fwoosh!
Vast leathery wings unfurled from her back, slicing through the air. Soaring into the sky, Lerazie flew at high speed against the backdrop of the blood-red moon.
Two days later. Deharm Mansion, the Elf's room.
"Today's the day."
The Elf murmured blankly, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. In the room lit only by faint moonlight, her darkness-accustomed eyes traced the ceiling patterns like a fool. It was an unconscious defense mechanism—wasting time on meaningless actions to pretend she wasn't tense.
Naturally, her thoughts drifted to Theorad's behavior over the past two days.
He called Dremes.
She didn't know why, or even how he'd connected with her, but his summoning the witch to the mansion had startled her. Witches didn't age visually. Dremes looked the same as she had twenty years ago, stirring a whirlwind of emotions in the Elf.
For a fleeting moment, she'd considered acknowledging her. Other witches she might have ignored outright, but Dremes had always been kind-hearted. But she quickly dismissed the idea. Revealing herself as the Black Flame Witch would spell trouble. For someone wanting to quietly play the slave, it was best avoided.
With a soft sigh, the Elf rolled onto her side. Her silky hair cascaded with the motion.
After Dremes left the mansion...
Theorad had holed up in his study all day. Curious, she'd peeked when he was asleep and found the desk piled with every obscene book imaginable. His uptight nature couldn't handle the pressure of satisfying her, so he'd drowned in smut. For a man who normally despised such things, it must have been torture.
What an idiot.
The phrase "cute in his stupidity" fit perfectly. Confirming his efforts to please her filled the Elf with a strange mix of emotions over those two days. If she had to name it, excitement laced with fear.
She'd lived long enough for an ordinary human to repeat their life three times, yet she'd never had sex. Why? Even she didn't know. Did she lack libido? No—erotica or lewd art stirred faint desire. During Theorad's sexual torments, the initial discomfort had given way to pleasure. But she'd never masturbated or desired intimacy with another.
Was it her scholarly obsessions? Traumatic events breeding human disgust? Or had she never seen reason as something to desire?
I don't know.
But with Theorad, she felt it was okay to give him her first time. She despised unions driven by base human lust, but his was purely coerced by her threats. A relationship stripped of desire wasn't ugly. She didn't know where it would lead, but his pure intentions brought her peace.
Knock knock—
A knock interrupted her wandering thoughts. As the Elf sat up, the door opened and Habid entered. He scanned her up and down before speaking carefully.
"Have you washed well?"
"Yes. I haven't done anything since. Master hates the smell of sweat."
"Good. If this is ever uncomfortable, tell me anytime. I'll speak to the family head on your behalf..."
"No, I'm fine. I was sold as a sex slave from the start."
True enough. Habid nodded silently and left the room.
"Follow me. I'll escort you to the family head's chambers."
"Yes, Head Butler."
The Elf rose and trailed behind him. The mansion's night-chilled corridors, swallowed by the air, made her arms prickle. The candles flickering softly on the walls felt strangely alien tonight. Rubbing her shoulders absentmindedly, she descended the stairs and soon reached Theorad's door.
"Family head, I'm sending her in."
After knocking to announce, Habid politely opened the door. Through it, she saw Theorad standing loftily by the window.
"Go on in."
The Elf nodded and stepped inside.
Thud.
Habid closed the door, and Theorad turned. Backlit by moonlight, his face was chillingly cold. The atmosphere felt different somehow. Lowering her puzzled gaze, the Elf spotted two empty bottles at his feet.
...What did he drink?
She couldn't tell, but it felt ominous.
"You."
His emotionless voice echoed through the room, heightening her unease.
"Didn't the butler tell you?"
The Elf shook her head.
"Staying still after hearing means you're trying to anger me."
"...No."
"Then."
Step step.
His precise footsteps halted before her. An arrogance she'd never seen on his face radiated authority. In this ambiguous tension—acting or real?—Theorad calmly parted his lips.
"You know what you have to do."
The Elf looked up, meeting his eyes directly. He merely twisted his lips in amusement.
To her, it was utterly insolent... yet, for some reason, she didn't hate it.