Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Disqualified as a Master (3)
The study was thick with suffocating awkwardness.
The master and her disciple kept up a heavy silence, unable to look one another straight in the eye.
...I want to die.
For the first time in over a thousand years of life, a suicidal impulse she had never felt before tormented Freya with self-loathing.
She had boldly declared to her disciple as a dignified master that she harbored no carnal desires for him, only to let him witness her moaning his name desperately while pleasuring herself in the most vulgar way.
...He must be disappointed.
A sudden fear gripped Freya.
Eight years was no long time for a witch, yet it had felt longer than any other period in her life.
The thought that the precious person who had returned after all that time might leave again made her heart pound wildly.
Eight years ago, he had left in disappointment after she, drunk and unable to think straight, seduced him and they slept together. This time, he would be even more disappointed—betrayed, even—and leave for good.
And he would never come back.
No.
I can't let that happen.
She never showed it openly, but to Freya, Zeke was more than just a disciple—he was a special, irreplaceable presence.
Her reason for living, even.
"Master! Look!"
His beaming face the first time he succeeded with magic.
At first, she'd been indifferent.
"Don't get carried away over basic stuff."
The cold Freya had said.
"Master! I did it!"
"Well done. As expected of my disciple."
As he quickly mastered every spell she taught, growing into a fine mage day by day, Freya felt a deep sense of fulfillment.
She was so proud of his hard work and progress.
A disciple's growth is a master's joy.
And it wasn't just his progress that made her happy.
"Master, try some of this."
"No need."
The witch who claimed she didn't need food had rejected all his cooking.
"What's on the menu today?"
"I made your favorites. Here, ahh."
"Ahh."
Unable to resist his earnest pleas to try just one bite, she gave in—and soon found her tongue tamed by his flavors.
When he cooked, she'd sidle up beside him, opening her mouth like a baby bird awaiting food from its mother. It became routine.
Those moments were utterly precious.
Just recalling them brought happiness.
She had grown addicted to taking them for granted, which was why she'd lived like a shut-in after he left.
Her happiness had departed with him.
...Not this time.
I won't let him go.
Fortunately, there was one difference from before.
Last time, she had no chance to hold onto him. This time, she did.
But words alone couldn't excuse this.
She couldn't deny it like a criminal caught red-handed by her brother.
If she'd only masturbated quietly, maybe.
But she'd fantasized about him touching her most intimate place, stupidly voicing that fantasy aloud as she did it.
No excuse would fly. She had none.
...In that case.
There was only one way.
I'll erase his memory.
She was truly sorry to her dear disciple, but this was an emergency.
Freya clutched her dress tightly and lifted her head.
"Z-Zek...!"
As she broke the silence, a hiccup mangled her words.
Freya's face flushed crimson.
"Eek...!"
She ducked her head again.
Her face burned with humiliated heat.
Ahem. Clearing her throat, Freya raised her head once more.
"Hic...!"
The moment she did, her eyes met Zeke's, who had been staring at the top of her head.
One look into his eyes, and Freya dropped her gaze again.
She let out a pitiful whine, like "Uwoooo."
To cast the memory erasure spell, she needed eye contact—but she couldn't manage it.
Squeeze.
Freya gripped her knees tightly.
She steeled her resolve.
Burying her head wouldn't solve anything.
Do it!
Freya lifted her head again.
"Zeke...!"
She called his name.
"Look into my eyes."
Freya's pink irises glowed as star-shaped magic circles appeared above both pupils.
That instant.
"Eek...!"
Zeke's large hand covered Freya's eyes.
"Wh-what do you think you're doing?"
Freya tried to pry his hand away.
But she couldn't.
Pure strength made it impossible for a woman to overpower a man.
And Zeke's mercenary life had built his muscles to rival any knight's.
"What are you trying to do, Master?"
Zeke slowly removed his hand.
"You were about to erase my memory just now, weren't you?"
Freya's body jolted violently.
"N-nooo...!"
She averted her eyes, feigning ignorance.
Like master, like disciple.
Avoiding eye contact while lying was a habit Zeke had picked up from watching her.
"Don't lie."
"...S-sorry."
With her ears turning red, Freya bowed her head and apologized.
So...
Is this how it ends?
She hadn't realized failing to hold back a moment's desire would bring such disaster.
Truth be told, it was an unexpected variable.
Zeke was at fault for coming to greet her thirty minutes earlier than usual.
She wanted to blame him somehow.
Freya slumped, shoulders drooping in defeat.
Her master's dignity had plummeted as low as it could go.
She hated this thing called love.
Over a thousand years without knowing it, only to awaken now and cause this mess.
Late-blooming love was fearsome, indeed.
How could she have known masturbating while thinking of the one she loved would be so addictive and pleasurable?
Freya's lower lip quivered as she mumbled,
"...You're disappointed, aren't you?"
A master who was not just vulgar, but cowardly too.
She was ashamed to even call herself one now.
Zeke must think the same.
She couldn't bear to look up at his face.
Head bowed deeply, Freya began her confession.
2.
Listening to Freya's confession, Zeke tilted his head.
Why does she think I'm disappointed?
He had been shocked, but not disappointed.
Not even close.
If anything, he was thrilled.
Would any man scorn a beautiful woman pleasuring herself while calling his name?
All the more if she was the woman he harbored feelings for.
That's how Zeke felt right now.
He kept his mouth shut not from disgust, but because he was too excited and at a loss for words.
Seeing his master masturbate while calling her disciple's name in that lewd voice suddenly made all her recent actions click.
She wasn't testing him as a master.
It had been sly, dishonest seduction.
Between ordinary man and woman, he might have noticed. But as master and disciple, he hadn't.
He believed such relations couldn't exist between them.
Common sense dictated it.
"Master."
A question popped into Zeke's mind.
"About eight years ago..."
He brought up the topic he'd been too scared to touch first.
She was begging forgiveness and awaiting absolution.
But curiosity won out.
"Do you remember?"
Freya's body twitched, as if she did.
"...S-sorry."
She apologized.
Why apologize?
He couldn't grasp the meaning.
If anyone should apologize for that night, it was him.
He'd been drunk, lost control of his urges, and toyed with her.
He had fucked his master.
He didn't remember the process, but the evidence pointed to it.
Semen had been leaking from her pussy, red handprints marked her ass.
And there were bruises on her pale skin from where he'd gripped her tightly, suggesting forced intercourse.
So he was the one who owed an apology.
Yet why?
Why was she apologizing for that night?
"You said you remembered too, Zeke."
If asked whether he remembered, yes.
But not everything.
Just the start and end—the middle was a blank.
How it escalated to that point.
"Of course I remember, but I don't know exactly what you mean."
"Urgh...!"
Freya's ears flushed red again, her earlier composure crumbling.
"...You're mean."
Her voice was fragile, on the verge of tears.
"That night... I seduced you."
Zeke's mind blanked at the answer.
What?
She seduced me?
Confusion set in.
"I shouldn't have. I was drunk and giddy, so I did that ugly thing..."
It shattered the absolute theory he'd held.
He'd assumed he'd lost control and raped her.
But from her mouth: she'd seduced him first.
It couldn't be a lie.
"Asking my drunken disciple impossible questions... tempting him to touch my breasts on that pretext... I'm a failure as a master."
Learning the truth of that night shocked Zeke deeply.
So that's what happened?
It wasn't me forcing her... she wanted it first...
Then I didn't need to leave.
He'd assumed it was his fault and fled.
Tortured by guilt and shame on the battlefield.
All unnecessary.
He wasn't the only one seeing her romantically—she saw him that way too.
Quietly wishing for their master-disciple bond to evolve into something more.
Unbelievable.
He let out an absurd chuckle.
But.
Separate from that, he was glad.
"Zeke, I know you're disappointed, but please don't leave me...!"
Tears welled in Freya's eyes as she clutched Zeke's sleeve.
I'm not leaving.
Not disappointed.
Freed from guilt and sin, the disciple was ready to unleash his long-suppressed desires.
"You want me to stay?"
Freya nodded.
"When I was young, you taught me this: if you have an earnest request, show your sincerity."
"Y-yes, I did."
"Show me your sincerity, Master."
Freya's eyes trembled.
"S-sincerity means...?"
Like a frightened cat, her eyes lifted cautiously.
Zeke grinned.
Mercenary life hadn't just taught him swordsmanship—plenty of sexual knowledge too.
Mercenaries were wild beasts.
Brutally honest about their desires.
After battles, bored, they'd head to brothels chanting for sex, indulging wildly.
Zeke hadn't joined in.
But he'd absorbed their heroic tales of brothel conquests, gaining carnal wisdom by osmosis.
Not the normal, wholesome kind.
Extreme, crude, sensual.
Viewing women mostly as tools for release—depraved stuff.
Practicing it on his master?
The taboo thrill hardened him instantly.
Zeke unbuckled his belt.
"Suck it, Master."
He pulled out his rigidly erect cock.
Freya's pink eyes shook violently.