A Visit to the Witch's Den
The next day, in Red Feather Street of Pelgaroin County.
"Here we are. You won't find another shop like this in the whole county," Baynen said, fulfilling his promise by escorting me to the witch's store.
The place didn't look all that big, but the signboard was glaringly eye-catching in the worst way possible.
Turn Your Lover into a Sex Slave
with the Witch's Tools!
The phrasing was so blatant it bordered on outright vulgar, enough to make anyone frown. Even in Red Feather Street, where prostitution and decadent entertainments thrived, this seemed a step too far.
I hesitated to step forward, but Baynen slung an arm around my shoulders and grabbed the doorknob. I jumped in surprise.
"B-Baynen! I'm not mentally prepared yet…!"
"What, talking like some virgin on her wedding night? You were all gung-ho about coming earlier."
"It's a misunderstanding! Like I said before, I didn't come here because I wanted to…!"
"Yeah, yeah. All you virgins say that when you walk in. You're no different, young master. It's not that special a place, so relax."
Baynen shot me a teasing grin and flung the door wide open. Anxious, I squeezed my eyes shut before peeking—and froze for an entirely different reason.
…Huh?
The shop's interior visible through the open door was nothing like I'd imagined. Instead of shelves crammed with lewd toys, it was filled with occult knickknacks like skull ornaments and voodoo dolls. If you ignored the sign, you'd think it was just a regular witch's hut.
Was this really an adult toy shop?
A bit bewildered, I took a few steps inside. From a shadowy corner, footsteps approached: thud, thud.
"Baynen? Who's that handsome guy next to you?"
A woman in her prime, with disheveled black hair, fixed me with eyes as dark as graphite. She wore a frilly gothic dress and held a pipe in hand—the combo felt oddly mismatched.
Baynen greeted her casually, like old acquaintances. "Long time no see, Dremes."
"Yeah, been a while. But seriously, who's the fuckable hunk?"
Her speech was so crude it threw me off. As I opened my mouth to respond, Baynen stepped in front, signaling to leave it to him.
"Hey, watch your mouth. This is Theorad, young master of the Deharm family."
"Theorad? Rings a bell…"
Dremes eyed me up and down with utter arrogance, then took a drag from her pipe. She exhaled a plume of smoke and nodded as if remembering.
"Oh yeah. The goody-two-shoes virgin, right? Your fiancée must be climbing the walls. Guys like you—stiff and upright—are a drag. If you weren't so hot, no woman would give you the time of day."
"Dremes."
"What?"
"Behave, or else."
"Pass. So what if he's head of the Deharm family? Witches don't bow to human-made titles. Plus, I'm the head of the Resentful Moon Guild. You know what that means."
I knew the Resentful Moon Guild well enough. Literally "the moon of resentment," it was a group that hadn't forgotten the church's witch hunts, harboring grudge to this day. And the largest faction in witch society.
But why was its leader running an adult toy shop? Baynen's next words cleared it up.
"Means you're a money pit, huh?"
"…Baynen, if you'd been born a woman, you'd be a witch."
"Sorry, I worship the god of light. I'd have offed myself."
"You're such an asshole. Just drop dead."
"The real asshole is you, insulting our young master."
"You fucking—"
Dremes's hand trembled around her pipe. I could tell they were close, but being stuck in the middle made me awkward. Baynen shrugged at my discomfort.
"So, you gonna do business or not? Young master might look like a pushover, but he's got skills—family's loaded. Don't wanna lose a prime customer? Fix that attitude."
"You my friend or what?"
"C'mon, don't be like that. I'm your friend, sure—but first and foremost, I'm the young master's knight. You're a shopkeeper before you're a witch. Separate business from personal."
"Ugh… fine."
Dremes scowled and turned away. I thought she was storming out the back, but she dragged a wooden table from the corner, set out three chairs, then snapped her fingers. A wet cloth flew from the kitchen into her hand.
She wiped the table vigorously, then straddled a chair and eyed us alternately.
"What're you standing around for? Sit if you're customers."
Money over pride, huh. I chuckled softly and took the seat opposite her. Baynen plopped down beside me and promptly acted entitled.
"Tch. Thirsty after that trek from the mansion. Got anything to drink?"
"Shut it, Baynen. You're not my customer. Theorad is."
"Young master thinks the same, right?"
Come to think of it, I was thirsty. Nodding absently, I watched Baynen flash a victory smirk at Dremes.
"See? Two coffees, pronto."
"Got it—so zip it."
Dremes waved her hand, and cups and spoons floated from the kitchen. Baynen tsked like he'd caught her.
"Using magic in front of customers? Go make it yourself. Now."
"No way. Why should I?"
"Remember last time you botched telekinesis and dumped half the sugar jar? No guarantee you won't screw up again. Just go—it's quick."
Dremes glared daggers, her eyes practically murderous, but Baynen whistled innocently. She surrendered first.
"Fuckin' hell…"
She shoved her chair back and stomped to the kitchen, brewing by hand. Watching briefly, I nudged Baynen's side.
"Baynen."
"Yes, young master?"
"How do you know the Resentful Moon Guild's head?"
"Oh, ran into her a few times during my mercenary days. We got to drinking buddies by chance, and here we are. She's got a foul temper, but not a bad witch. No need to worry."
Fair enough. Guild members were said to hate humanity, but their leader was just a prickly witch. Whether she hid her true feelings, she didn't seem the type to rage blindly at all mankind.
"But Baynen… you seem the fouler-tempered one right now."
"Pardon? Misunderstanding. I'm just putting on a show for your sake."
"For me?"
"Yep. You wouldn't know, but witches test hierarchies on first meetings. If you don't establish dominance, they'll walk all over you forever. So I'm drilling in that you're no pushover."
Sounded plausible, but was he really doing it for me? Felt more like he was bullying a friend using my name. Still, Baynen wasn't a liar, so I'd trust him.
"Coffee."
Dremes returned with our cups. Thanking her as I took mine, she nodded curtly.
"So, spill. What adult toy you after?"
What toy? No way I could answer—I was clueless about this stuff.
"No idea."
"No idea? First time here?"
"That a problem?"
"Nah, but…"
She pulled up a chair, sensing a long talk.
"Gimme a rough idea what you want. I'll sort you out."
"Roughly…"
What would the Elf like? Recalling how I'd humiliated her so far, I concluded.
"No blood, period. Bodily harm's fine, but no lasting wounds."
"Anything else?"
"Ideally, something that gives physical pleasure and mental torment. But not too sadistic."
"Picky. One more for clarity."
Dremes spread her legs and hiked her skirt, flashing garter stockings and black panties with a clear axe wound scar.
"What about sticking it in here?"
Too vulgar to look. I deliberately met her eyes.
"…She'd probably hate it."
"Not sure?"
"First time buying toys."
"Hm. Dragon head's on the house then."
"Dragon head?"
"You'll see. Ask your lover if she likes it. Rest'll be popular stuff with instructions."
She dropped her skirt and beckoned. A crystal orb and note flew from storage into her hand, which she offered casually.
"Crystal orb's got my mark—for teleporting goods. Pack 'em up flat; I'll send via magic today. Note's my card. Burn it if you don't wanna come back—I'll fly over."
"Payment?"
"Bill the Deharm family. Not hurting for cash. Label it 'household magic tools'—no embarrassment."
Pro move. As I nodded to take them, Baynen cut in.
"Hold up, Dremes."
"What now?"
"You've been awfully curt. Young master's your friend too?"
Veins gridlined her forehead.
"Baynen, quit it. I've killed before."
"Think I haven't? Forked a guy's throat in my merc days."
Silence. Tension like thin ice. Baynen played dumb.
"Fine, won't nag your speech—but show respect in how you address him. Or lose a big client. We got options. Right, young master?"
Why drag me in? I was about to tell him to ease up when Dremes spoke.
"I… Witches don't serve humans."
"Who said serve? Just the title."
"That's…"
Her face clouded with conflict—pride or profit? After agonizing, she forced a crooked smile at me.
"L-Looking forward to doing business… Young Master Theorad…"
Dremes had bowed to capitalism in the end.