A Meeting That Shouldn't Happen (6)
Having delivered her warning to Theorad, the Elf—now changed into a maid's outfit—slammed the door shut with a bang! and stormed out of the study.
'Annoying...'
Leaning back against the door, the Elf let out a deep sigh and swept her radiant silver hair behind her ear. Her downcast eyes half-lidded as she stared straight ahead. In her mind, the image of Theorad frozen in terror lingered.
For a moment, she wondered if she'd pushed too hard in her anger, but more than the fact that he'd tormented his toy, it was his failure to treat her like a woman that ignited an inexplicable rage.
'Why?'
It didn't make sense. 'Where's a woman prettier than me?'
This wasn't arrogance—it was the utterly objective judgment of an Elf who had lived through countless ages and drawn from vast experience. She'd wandered uncountable nations, met more people than she could ever list by name. Among them had been a beauty said to have toppled a king. Out of curiosity, she'd sought her out, but... well. Given that the king had proposed on the spot upon seeing her, the victor was clear.
Afterward, suitors had poured in. She hadn't even used any feminine wiles. She had no interest in that. She'd simply disguised herself as a human, roamed the world learning every knowledge it offered, and men had flocked to her naturally. Intensely so.
—Your skills are impressive. But I possess secret forbidden magic you know nothing of. Curious? How about we forge a more... intimate bond? It's unknown to the world—you can learn it only through me.
—In all my years, I've never seen a woman as lovely and wise as you. How could I not fall? I'll give you half my kingdom. If you join me.
—Once this mission ends, I'm retiring. Thinking of building a manor on the edge of my territory and settling down. After all this hardship, it's time to rest, right? So, what do you say? We've only known each other a week through our magic tool trades, but I like you.
Pathetic men had hidden their lechery behind feigned innocence to propose. One had courted the Elf—a flower on a cliff—for years just to pluck her. But she'd rejected them all. If they wouldn't take no for an answer, she'd snap their fingers to make them realize their place.
Whether their feelings were genuine didn't matter. The Elf didn't trust human emotions. Especially not 'love'—she scoffed at the very idea. Love's flame burned hot but extinguished just as easily. To an Elf who lived near eternity, human love was merely a mental trick for breeding, nothing more than an excuse.
'And yet.'
Theorad was suppressing his instincts to the limit for that pathetic love. Despite several floggings so far, he'd always restrained himself, showing only measured restraint. It was clear he was calculating every move to satisfy her.
At first, she'd thought it mere thrashing for survival, but now it felt different.
'Fiancée.'
Esilly Pelgaroin, was it? Theorad clearly loved her truly. That's why he didn't want to mix with other women. Guarding his chastity like his life—a notion fit for a prim maiden, yet the head of an imperial noble house clung to it. It wasn't funny. No, it wasn't funny at all, and that ground her teeth.
'Soon, Theorad.'
It had started as a game, but now it was personal. She wanted to keep their current dynamic while making him see her as a woman. She wanted to see him lose control, his instincts running wild unchecked—not calculated from fear, but impulsive from pure urge.
She didn't know when, but the day they'd entwine their bodies wasn't far off.
'He can't resist forever.'
In the past, if he'd tried, she'd have killed him on the spot. But now, some leniency seemed possible. If he lost reason and tried to ravage her, it'd be quite entertaining. And if he crossed the line unwittingly, their old promise would shatter—no more holding back.
Recalling those memories, the Elf gave a bitter smile, peeled away from the door, and walked down the corridor. Her heels clicked sharply as she went, then she suddenly tilted her head.
'What were my afternoon tasks again?'
Even if it was all an act, she was Theorad's slave and intended to play her role faithfully. But she couldn't recall what Habid had assigned today. He gathered the servants and slaves every morning to delegate tasks (even now, bedridden with a cold, he hadn't forgotten), but she'd let it go in one ear and out the other, content to watch butterflies flit about the courtyard.
'Eh... doesn't matter.'
A slave's chores were limited anyway. Mostly cleaning the mansion or watering the front garden flowers. Anything like that would do.
With that thought, she took a few steps—then a familiar figure emerged from around the corridor corner. A man in pristine white priestly robes, a blue stole around his neck: Leviham.
"C-Could we speak for a moment?"
Her brows furrowed. Speak? Who was begging whom here?
"Move."
But Leviham didn't budge. His eyes burned with strange conviction, grating on her nerves.
"You're no slave, are you? It's not honorable, but I overheard your conversation in the study."
"So?"
"I believe Viscount Deharm is blackmailing you with some weakness. Am I right?"
Why was this fool acting up? She'd warned him not to meddle, yet he'd eavesdropped and jumped to delusions.
'Begging to die?'
Suspicious he might be suicidal, she glared silently. Leviham continued earnestly.
"I'll help you."
Help whom?Me?
Absurdity widened her eyes, and Leviham nodded solemnly.
"I'm a bishop overseeing a diocese, appearances aside. I can relay your story to headquarters. That should resolve the viscount's blackmail."
"Ha..."
"In exchange, tell me the wicked plot Viscount Deharm has against our church. And your ties to the witches. Share that intel, and I swear on the Light God Karatias to protect you."
Annoying. Beyond annoying—this was outright infuriating. Should she turn him into the same mess as that inquisitor before?
As she pondered, faint curiosity stirred within.
'This...'
Maybe she could use this priest to torment Theorad. She'd been irritated that he'd wimped out on the 'harsh punishment' talk and ended the flogging lamely. Using this holy man as a chess piece might provide some fun.
"Fine."
The Elf eyed Leviham and grinned playfully.
"Tell me your plan."
Five minutes after the Elf left the study, I finally steadied my breathing. The strange magic binding me had finally dissipated. I unclasped the brooch at my throat, gulped in air, and pressed my forehead.
A chill crept up my spine unbidden, my head throbbing. Her parting words echoed intensely in my mind. Even the sensation of her hand caressing my lower belly felt vividly real.
—Your place to vent your lust is right here.
...Thinking back, it wasn't cryptic at all. She'd euphemistically commanded me to take her next time.
'If you don't obey, who knows what'll happen...'
I didn't even want to imagine. Did that mean I truly had to sleep with the Elf?
A groan escaped through clenched teeth, weighing me down. I'd braced for it. I knew someday I'd fall to her. That's why I'd confessed to Esilly beforehand, steeling myself.
But I lacked confidence. I couldn't maintain the 'cold-blooded psychopath master' she craved during sex. So far, floggings relied on words and tools, not my body satisfying her. Would she even be content with mine? I feared it deeply.
'...I've never done it before.'
Think about it! Again, she wants a 'cold-blooded psychopath master.' If he enters the act but can't lead, just gets dominated? Not virile. Not competent. Not cold, not psycho. Fail the role, and mid-act, she'll surely despise me.
Despise me... Cold sweat dripped as I wiped my face.
'Gods... why this trial upon me...'
Right now, I envied Baynen Brokena. That mad stamina and nerve to bed even orcs.
"How the hell is that possible?! Baynen, you bastard!"
I yelled, and the door flew open. Baynen—scruffy beard sharp—burst in shouting.
"Young master!"
"Uh, wait? That wasn't aimed at you. Don't misunderstand..."
"Pardon? Anyway, no time for this!"
Why so frantic? He looked desperate. I straightened and asked.
"Calm down and speak. Something happen at the mansion?"
"Well, it's... uh..."
Baynen scratched his head, scowling irritably.
"The bishop escaped."
"Escaped?"
"Yeah. Your precious Elf slave? Servants saw the bishop fleeing with her toward the nearby forest."
"What? Why?"
"Dunno. Some misunderstanding, probably... We gotta find and convince him before it blows up, right?"
Baynen was spot on. Whatever his motive, pissing off the Elf in her foul mood meant certain death for the bishop. Since I'd brought her here, I couldn't shirk responsibility.
I shoved back my chair and bellowed.
"Tell the servants to grab torches and scour the nearby woods! Prep two horses! Baynen, you're with me!"
"Yes, young master!"
Baynen bowed crisply and dashed off. No time to waste—I donned my overcoat and hurried from the study.