Untying the Knot

I can do this. Machines are honest. They repay every drop of sweat you give them.

She clenched her teeth and tightened the bolt.

Creeeak—.

The metal shrieked.

Just a little more. Just a little more precision….

Snap.

With a dull crack, the bolt head broke away, leaving nothing behind.

"…Ah."

Frederica's hand froze in midair.

"M-Major! I told you, didn't I?! This is wrought iron—you can't tighten it any further…!"

"Bring it here."

Her voice trembled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Get the spare parts! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠We're reassembling it—from scratch, from the very beginning!"

"Major, are you insane?! We've torn that engine down three times overnight! The men are so exhausted they're about to collapse…!"

The maintenance officer stepped in, unable to bear it any longer, but Frederica didn't so much as acknowledge him.

She rummaged through the parts crates like a woman possessed. But everything her hands found was coarse, crude supply stock. Not a trace of the brilliant 'heat-treated steel' or the 'pure copper gaskets' that Max had conjured out of thin air.

Where… where on earth did he get that kind of thing…?

She fitted in the best parts she could find, a despair settling over her like a shroud, and turned the ignition again.

Chug—BANG, BANG!

The engine turned over. The maintenance crew heaved sighs of relief.

"There we go! Sounds great, Major! Real thunderous!"

But Frederica's face was contorted.

No. This isn't it. Loud isn't enough.

The screech of cylinders scraping the walls. The clatter of valves closing out of rhythm. Every time the gears meshed, a sickening vibration climbed up her spine and rattled her skull.

"Kill it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Shut it down, NOW!!"

Silence reclaimed the maintenance shed once more. Only the sound of the hunk of iron cooling ticked away—tick, tick. Frederica slumped down onto the tank.

Only then did she understand.

…Max Jäger.

Without that man's help, she would never taste a perfect tank again.

It was early morning when the office door opened with careful hesitation. Frederica.

"…So, did you fix it?"

At my question, she shook her head.

"…No, sir. No matter how I tighten it, polish it, grind and replace it… that feeling won't come back. With my own hands… I cannot salvage this pathetic heap of scrap."

I let my gaze travel over her slowly. Her hair gleamed as though ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠freshly washed, but her eyes were still hollow and haggard.

Status Analysis.

I could sense it instinctively—she was almost there.

"Major. What was it you said to me yesterday?"

I spoke with leisurely calm.

"'Selling your body for the sake of maintenance is what whores do.' A truly memorable quote."

"……"

"And look at you now. The sun has barely risen and you're already knocking on your superior's door, begging him to fix that lump of scrap metal."

Frederica's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulders quivered. Shame flushed her face crimson, but she could not bring herself to leave the room.

"…A whore, then."

She bit her lip until it nearly bled as she spoke.

"…I'll become a whore, then."

I smiled thinly, without a shred of warmth.

And then, as though making a confession, Frederica continued.

"……Do you remember the day we first met?"

"You mean that insolent attitude of yours, spitting at every order I gave back in the Ashen Forest, during the Sickle Cut Operation?"

"……I have no face to show for it."

"Hmm."

I rose slowly from my seat and approached her.

"A parachute appointee who rocketed from Captain to Lieutenant Colonel on the flimsy pretext of wartime exception. Honestly, you must have despised me. Thought I was the kind of personnelFile that stained the honor of the 1st Armored Division—the pride of the Imperial Army's finest."

"……Yes, sir."

She admitted it reluctantly.

"……So I tested you. During the forest breakthrough, during the river crossing. Come on, embarrass yourself just once—the moment your limits showed, I'd report straight to headquarters and have you dragged down. That was my arrogant little fantasy."

She smiled bitterly.

"But you proved it all, brazenly and completely. I was wrong, and you, Lieutenant Colonel, were right."

Frederica met my eyes directly as she spoke.

"And during the last operation…."

A faint blush crept up her face. The expression was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠less shame than quiet resolve.

"Sitting on my superior's lap, with your hand seized around my chest—it should have been humiliating. But…."

Frederica's lips fluttered.

"Even in that moment, you were perfect. Even while groping and kneading my breast, your turret traverse angle held without a single degree of error. Even while biting my ear, you pinpointed the enemy's position exactly."

I let out an awkward laugh.

"And even… even in that degrading situation, I felt a strange sense of security."

It was a shocking confession.

Status Analysis.

There it was. I rejoiced inwardly.

The moment a mechanic-obsessed elite officer finally let go of her pride for the sake of a perfect tank. Her expression radiated a debauchery so pure it sent a thrill down my spine.

"Then we have a deal."

I sat back down in my chair and leaned deep against the backrest. Then I pointed at my crotch with a tilt of my chin.

"Every arrogant word you've spat at me with those pretty lips."

Frederica's gaze locked onto the front of my trousers.

"Your words, your mess to clean up."

Gulp. I watched the white column of her throat bob visibly.

"Untie the knot you tied—with your mouth. Put that insolent tongue of yours to work."

"Ah……."

Frederica's eyes trembled violently.

Untying the knot with her mouth. There was no way she could miss the obscene meaning buried in that neutral expression.

Unable to refuse, she came around the desk and stopped before my chair. Then, smoothly, slowly, she bent down. The haughty, high-nosed noblewoman sank to her knees between my legs.

"Hoo…."

With a trembling hand, she reached for my belt buckle. Click—with the sound of metal, the leather strap came undone.

Ziiip.

As the fly slid down, what had been suppressed sprang free with a bounce. A ferocious size and heat that no underwear could disguise.

Throb.

"……You have to keep your promise."

With those final words, Frederica pulled my underwear down as well.

Slap.

The heavy flesh sprang free, nearly grazing her cheek. The flushed, blood-engorged head gaped before her nose. The scent of night flowers and raw male musk struck her all at once.

Frederica held her breath for a moment. Her eyes were a tangle of fear, awe, and instinctive curiosity.

Status Analysis.

After a long hesitation, Frederica seemed to finally make up her mind, squeezing her eyes shut. Then she parted her crimson lips and took me into her mouth.

"Mmph…!"

A warm, wet sensation engulfed me from head to root in one gulp.

Sexual Experience Analysis.

She was clumsy, as befitting a complete virgin. Her teeth grazed me a few times, and her tongue's movements were hopelessly awkward. But the sheer conquest of having the Empire's youngest Major, that haughty elite, kneeling at my feet in service—the pleasure doubled on that alone.

"Hahk, chuuup… nnngh…."

I stroked her grey bob-cut hair, then seized it roughly.

"That's it. Just like that. Lick it nice and devotedly. Every last corner."

"Nnnnggh!"

Her head rocked back and forth with the force of my grip. She gagged each time I drove deep into her throat, but I showed her no mercy.

Does it hurt? Well, you'll just have to endure it.

All that haughty arrogance and contempt Frederica had heaped on me—I'd swallowed every word and held my tongue long enough. I'd more than earned my place among the saints.

An insolent woman with no grasp of her station deserved exactly this treatment.

"Chup, chuuup…."

"Good. You've got a talent for it."

"Ngh… mmph…."

At the praise, she glared up at me as if it were an insult.

Nice try.

Struggling was useless. I gripped her head and began thrusting my hips into her in earnest.

"Urk?!—Ugghk!"

"Deep. Open your throat."

"Wai—gghk! Too, big… kegh!"

"Don't give me that."

Ignoring her protests, I quickened the pace. Gag—kegh. The lewd sounds of my cock forcibly ravaging her throat filled the room.

Soon physiological tears welled in Frederica's eyes and streamed down her cheeks. The grand title of the Empire's youngest battalion commander, the proud dignity of House Kessel—none of it meant anything before the sight of her gagging like a bitch between my legs, swallowing my cock.

"Ah, aahk… can't, breathe through my… kegh!"

"Don't stop. Keep sucking."

I drove my cock, swollen to its absolute limit by the Iron Virility skill, deep into the far reaches of her throat. The sensation of forcing my way past the entrance of her esophagus.

Status Analysis.

She began tapping my thigh frantically, desperate for air.

For a split second, I winced. That was, admittedly, a bit much. The human throat is, after all, designed to reject foreign objects.

Touch of Attunement.

But I happened to possess a skill capable of classifying even that biological defense mechanism as a bug and rewriting it on the spot.