Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Touching
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“What?”
Patrol Captain Adella's brow furrowed in an instant. It wasn't mere annoyance. It was humiliation. The look in her brown eyes was the same murderous intent she'd unleash on the battlefield when hearing filthy taunts from the enemy.
The scarred area near her eyebrow twitched like a spasm. Her hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of her sword tight. The creak of her leather glove twisting cut through the prison's silence.
“Are you mocking me right now, prisoner?”
Her voice dropped low. The air in the corridor froze cold in a heartbeat.
'Shit...'
Cold sweat trickled down my spine. My mouth had run ahead of me. I'd gotten too cocky relying on level 2 Persuasion. She was still the Empire's Patrol Captain, and I was just a chained criminal.
No matter how much we shared secrets, crossing the line would just make it disgusting mockery.
I swallowed hard. I felt my Adam's apple bob. One more slip here, and it wouldn't end with a slap. Before Helena's army even arrived, Adella's blade could take my head.
“N-no, my mistake, Captain.”
I waved my hands frantically. The chains clinked noisily.
“Mocking? Nothing lowbrow like that. Hear me out.”
I widened my eyes, putting on the most earnest, wronged expression I could muster. [Persuasion (Lv.2)]. Praying that the system's guaranteed 'miraculous persuasiveness' would kick in.
“It was pure admiration. Honestly, in this dingy, filthy prison, the only beautiful thing I get to see is rat tails. But when you took off your armor and I saw that strong, healthy body of yours... it really cleansed my eyes.”
I poured out the words without taking a breath.
“The scars on your body, the calluses—they're all proof of how fiercely you've lived. Seeing them fired me up with the will to survive. That's why it keeps coming to mind. Not some lewd intent, but awe as a warrior.”
Desperation laced my voice. Because I really was desperate. To stay alive.
Adella's eyebrow twitched. One finger loosened from the sword hilt.
“Awe?”
She snorted. But the killing intent had eased.
“Not a word I'd expect from the emperor called a tyrant.”
“Even tyrants can recognize beauty. And true beauty lies not in fancy dresses, but in the flesh of survivors.”
I drove the nail home. Words touching her pride. For a fighter like Adella, nothing beat praise for her body and scars.
I swear I heard a ding—like a Persuasion success chime.
Adella pursed her lips and looked away.
“You sure have a way with words.”
She adjusted her helmet and leaned against the wall. Her shoulders relaxed. It worked.
I held back a sigh of relief and moved to the next step. Now that she'd let her guard down was the chance.
“But Captain, your posture looks uncomfortable for a while now.”
I approached the bars, pointing at her waist.
“Your hip. You're standing cock-legged. The armor's weight? Or an injury from training?”
Adella flinched. She unconsciously rubbed her right hip.
“Mind your own business.”
“How can I not? Who'll protect me if you're hurting? When Roselia's army comes, you'll charge first. But with a twisted hip, can you even swing your sword right?”
I tsked with a serious face.
“Come here. Let me take a look.”
“What trick is this?”
Adella narrowed her eyes. Like she wouldn't fall for it this time.
“Trick? I know imperial massage techniques. Emperors suffer muscle pain from overwork, so court physicians developed acupressure that's really effective.”
Pure bullshit, of course. No massage knowledge in Batanias's memories. Just how to grope women. But my shamelessness and [Persuasion] skill made the lie sound plausible.
“Just press a few spots. Can do it over the armor. No need to take it off.”
The 'over the armor' part melted her wariness like snow. Relief at not stripping, temptation of easing the throbbing pain.
She hesitated, then slowly approached the bars.
“One wrong move, and I slit your wrists.”
She warned, turning her back and leaning her ass against the bars. Cold metal clanged.
“Got it, got it.”
I reached both hands through the bars. Placed them where her cold breastplate met the leather belt at her waist. Hard, rough texture against my palms.
But the armor wasn't my goal.
“Feels knotted here.”
I pressed my thumb into the breastplate's edge. Adella let out a short ugh.
“A bit lower.”
I slid my hand down slyly. Where the armor ended and leather pants began. That subtle curve where her ass started.
My fingers traced over the leather. Firm glute muscles under my fingertips. Despite 'over the armor,' I targeted spots close to bare skin, making Adella twitch.
“That's not armor.”
She turned to argue.
“That's the pressure point. Where the muscle starts.”
I replied calmly, gripping the top of her ass firmly.
“Hng!”
A stifled moan escaped Adella. The grip transmitted through the leather pants—heavy, blatant for mere acupressure.
I didn't stop. Channeling [Persuasion]'s magic into my fingertips, kneading her muscles. Under the guise of loosening knots, my hands grew bolder, exploring her glutes.
“How's that? Feel better?”
I whispered near her ear. Adella's ears burned red. Instead of answering, she panted roughly, enduring my touch.
Her ass squirmed in my palm. The tremor of her body torn between rejection and acceptance transmitted fully.
My perverted instincts stirred. The conquest of holding this fierce female warrior in my grasp, kneading her.
Not emperor's power, but my hands and tongue disarming her—the thrill stabbed my brain sharp.
“I'll press deeper.”
I pressed my thumb near her tailbone.
“Ah... there...”
Adella's voice trembled. Her legs slackened slightly.
“Loosened up now?”
I squeezed her ass once more.
“That's enough!”
Adella shuddered, jerking away like shaking off my hands. Her movement was urgent, rigid.
The sudden loss of body heat cooled the lingering warmth of leather on my palm. She stepped back two paces, steadying her ragged breath.
Her breastplate clinked loudly.
Her face flushed red. Even in torchlight shadows, the blush spreading to her nape couldn't hide. She cleared her throat, adjusted her helmet. Unsure where to look, she stared past my shoulder into empty air and blurted,
“The pain's eased a bit. I'll let this slide—just once.”
Without waiting for reply, she spun away. Her boots hit the floor fast, irregular.
Like fleeing, or hiding her crumbled defenses. Clack, clack, clack. I gripped the bars, watching her back vanish into the corridor's darkness.
Clang.
The heavy outer iron door shut, returning the prison to perfect isolation.
I stared blankly at my right hand. My fingertips tingled. The feel of those elastic glutes, the living pulse through rough leather—etched into my fingerprints, vivid.
Damp mold scent stung my nose again, but faintly, her flesh and leather scent clung to my palm.
[Alert: This is beyond ridiculous now.]
[Achievement Unlocked: Prisoner kneads the guard's ass.]
[Description: In the enclosed, hierarchical space of a prison, under the guise of 'treatment,' you legally(?) violated the guard's most private area. In her subconscious, your touch is no longer that of a mere prisoner.]
[Reward: You can awaken a new ability.]
I let out a hollow laugh. The system seemed to mock me. It ignored me while I died 98 times grinding, but rewards me for groping an ass. If this world's god existed, they'd definitely be a voyeur.
The screen shifted, listing selectable abilities.
“Ha.”
A sigh escaped. Escape with toes? Become a prison janitor? No choice. Only one seemed useful.
I touched the third option in the air without hesitation.
[Skill Acquired: Delicate Touch (Lv.1)]
[Sensations sharpen at every fingerprint. Your touch becomes a medium that reads information and conveys emotions, beyond mere contact.]
Instantly, a faint tingle like micro-currents ran through my fingertips. I unconsciously rubbed thumb and index.
The friction between fingerprints sounded clear as if right by my eardrum. Touching the cold stone floor, its rough grains transmitted to my brain. Slippery moss dampness, stone's chill, even tiny vibrations.
With this touch...
I might find Adella's knots easier, or create a variable against Helena.
I leaned back against the wall, gazing at the ceiling's darkness. Closing my eyes, Helena's furious face under the red canopy surfaced. Tomorrow. No, hours away. Solo audience with her.
Mere stalling wasn't enough. The 24-hour reprieve was just delaying execution. I needed to flip the board fundamentally. Redirect her rage to another energy. Like with Adella.
With Adella, I targeted 'warrior pride' and 'health.' Helena? She's a queen. And a virgin. Trembling with humiliation yet blushing at my dirty talk—that dual nature. Her armor's chink: 'repressed desire' and 'curiosity.'
I clenched and opened my hand in the air. The new [Delicate Touch] sensation felt alien yet promising. Couldn't touch her through the screen, but if my voice, expressions, gestures stimulated her visually...
I began planning. Back before the Oath Room crystal, the gestures to take, opening words, decisive blow to disarm her.
My stomach growled. Tension eased, hunger hit. I fumbled for the pouch of hardtack Duke Karls tossed, pulling one out. Its surface felt far rougher and drier than before.