Chapter 20

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 20

Chapter Title: Kneading

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The chill from the cold stone floor crept up my spine from my tailbone. The irregular dripping of water drops from the darkness of the ceiling struck my mind like a clock pendulum.

Drip. Drip. In time with that sound, my heartbeat raced in a strange dissonance.

That number etched into my retina didn't fade away. It had definitely been 11 before I fell asleep yesterday.

A precious life saved by rescuing Soldier Lucas had vanished overnight. A death I couldn't remember. Time severed without pain or screams.

I sat with my knees drawn up, scraping my thumbprint with my fingernail. Thanks to [Delicate Touch], the faint friction and sensation of my nail on skin came through with excessive clarity.

'The water?'

That water Patrol Captain Adella had fetched straight from the riverbank. The liquid I'd gulped down last night and drifted off to sleep feeling good. What if it had been a paralytic sleep toxin or a heart-stopping poison?

Or Adella herself?

Last time, she'd blushed at my touch and fled. That mix of shame and strange excitement had felt too vivid to be acting.

But what if she'd been bought off? Or what if the shame from me kneading her ass had twisted into murderous intent, leading her to sneak in last night and strangle me?

My mind tangled in complexity. Suspicion led to suspicion, finally converging on one hypothesis.

'I need to check.'

That's when it happened.

Thud. Thud.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. A familiar rhythm. But my ears caught the subtle difference.

Adella's usual steps were heavy presses of her boot heels into the floor. These were lighter, more cautious—forefoot first, then heel following.

Silver armor caught the torchlight as a figure emerged from the darkness.

It was Adella. Her expression was as stoic as ever, brown hair peeking from under her helmet unchanged. In her hand dangled a leather pouch filled with water.

"Water."

She stopped before the bars and said curtly. Tone, pitch, inflection—perfect. To the ear alone, no doubt it was Adella.

She bent to push the pouch through the food slot.

"Hold on."

I called out softly.

Her hand froze mid-air. She looked up at me, a flicker of puzzlement in her brown eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"No need for water. You're skipping steps, Captain."

I scooted closer to the bars with a grin.

"Greetings first."

"Greetings?"

Her brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"What nonsense. Just drink the water."

"Come on, don't be like that. Not between us. Like yesterday—show me your ass. We agreed I'd loosen those knotted muscles every time."

I reached my hand through the bars and beckoned with my fingers.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Adella's eyes wavered. Caution? Fluster?

"Are you insane? Why would I let a bastard like you do that?"

She stepped back, hand on her sword hilt. A perfectly normal reaction.

Rejection and disgust. But I didn't back down. I pushed brazenly, infused with the power of [Persuasion (Lv.2)].

"Why? You said it felt good just last time. I'm fixing that twisted hip of yours morning and night. Forgot already? How you begged me to go harder because it felt so good?"

A lie. I'd touched it once the day before yesterday, but not "morning and night."

The real Adella would've snapped, "Cut the bullshit. You got one feel yesterday and now you're crawling back?" or slapped my hand away.

But this Adella before me hesitated. Her gaze darted to my hand and around. The corridor was empty. She bit her lip in conflict, then slowly—agonizingly slowly—turned her back.

"Make it quick. Someone sees, they'll get the wrong idea."

She leaned her ass against the bars. A cold metallic clank rang out.

Gotcha.

I hid a feral smirk and reached out. My palm met the firm leather-clad buttocks beneath the cold silver breastplate.

Sensations flooded my brain like a waterfall through my fingerprints. Leather texture, warmth beneath, muscle density and tension.

I gripped her ass flesh with my fingers.

"Ngh."

She let out a short moan.

Off.

The [Delicate Touch] skill heightened not just her feelings but mine too.

Yesterday's Adella ass was classic warrior: rock-hard muscle capped with a thin fat layer. Squeezing yielded a springy rebound.

And crucially, the upper right glute was chronically tense and knotted.

But this ass in my hand was different.

Soft. Too soft. Low muscle density, flesh yielding mushily. Even the body heat through the leather pants was slightly warmer than Adella's usual.

Decisively, no hard knot on the right glute. Just smooth, pillowy fat. Subtle muscles, but not the ass I'd groped before.

'Fake.'

Certainty settled.

This woman wasn't Adella.

Someone wearing Adella's skin. Magic or disguise, meticulously mimicked—but not the body's record.

This soft ass belonged to a schemer lurking in shadows, not a battlefield sword-swinger.

Instead of boiling rage, cold thrill raced down my spine. So it's you, bitch. The one who stole my save point.

"How's it feel, Captain? Really knotted there today."

I spoke in feigned concern, squeezing harder—not just kneading, but twisting the flesh like pinching.

"Eugh! It hurts!"

The fake Adella twisted away. Real Adella would've gritted through the pain; this one whined overdramatically.

"Hurts? Tell me, I'll go easy."

I didn't let go. Instead, I dug fingers deeper into her ass crack. The leather stitching scraped my knuckles.

"N-no, it's fine. Keep going."

She panicked but didn't refuse. Mistaking the 'Adella' she played for one who had this routine with the emperor.

Forcing herself to endure lest refusal expose her as fake.

Ridiculous.

I roughly kneaded her cheeks like dough. Slapped them to make sharp smacks with my palm, circled my fingertips around her asshole.

Each twitch rubbed leather with a rasp.

"Captain's extra responsive today. Feeling it more than yesterday?"

At my mocking whisper, her ears flushed—not shame, but confusion from the situation.

"Haa, stop."

"Hold still. Gotta loosen the deep muscles."

I spread her cheeks wide. Elastic flesh parted with a smack under my grip. Leather stretched taut, exposing the crude valley between.

Real Adella would've drawn her sword and decapitated me. But this fake endured in awkward stance. Idiot bitch.

I inwardly cheered. Dare touch my life? I'll toy with you mercilessly till your identity slips. Fakes gotta act real, right?

"Here's the spot. Deep inside."

I pressed my middle finger hard into her tailbone.

"Urgh!"

Her legs buckled.

'No way.'

Priestess Sia bit her lower lip hard. A metallic tang spread in her mouth. The man's grip pierced through leather pants into her ass flesh.

Brutal yet eerily delicate strength. Tingling shocks crawled from spine's end to brain with each finger probing her crack.

She gripped the cold bars with both hands to keep her knees from folding.

Last night's memory flashed by like a panorama.

A rugged mountain path on the palace outskirts, moonless dark. Attacking Adella en route to fetch water, Sia figured easy prey.

A mere prison patrol captain was nothing to the church's assassination arts. But miscalculation. Adella's sword was heavy, reactions beastly fast.

Over twenty exchanges. Rocks shattered, trees felled.

Only a poisoned dagger to the side broke her balance. The venomous glare in those brown eyes as she screamed and plummeted off the sheer cliff.

That unyielding death stare wouldn't fade from her mind.

And that viper. That iron woman.

'Was doing this?'

Sia's eyes shook with turmoil. The deposed emperor. Imprisoned criminal. Rumored inept lecher. Now kneading her ass like dough.

"Hngh."

A stifled moan leaked through clenched teeth. His thumb circled and pressed the dimple near her tailbone. Not mere pressure.

Pinpointing nerve clusters, kneading out the tension with expert skill. Pain and pleasure blurred into nauseating heat invading her lower body.

'Resist. Slash him.'

Reason screamed. Fury surged at enduring this humiliation as a high church priestess. She ached to draw the hidden dagger at her waist and slice that brazen wrist.

But her body wouldn't move.

"Why? You said it felt good last night too."

His voice clung sticky to her ear. Laden with irrefutable conviction.

As if the sun rose east, water flowed down, and Adella offering her ass to the emperor was cosmic law—uttered so naturally.

His words burrowed deep, twisting her thought circuits.

'Right. Adella's always been this kind of woman. Tough on the outside, but a bitch craving the emperor's touch inside. So I can't refuse here. Refusal exposes the fake.'

Rationalization. Unbeknownst to her, his [Persuasion] ability overlaid cunning logic, smothering her doubts.

Perfect disguise demanded perfect acting. If Adella gave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her ass morning and night, then she in Adella's skin must too.

Only way to complete the mission.

'Endure. Just a massage. For the mission, I'd roll in shit.'

Sia steadied her trembling breath. But his touch mocked her patience, growing bolder.

Warm palms enveloped her cheeks, rubbing up and down. Leather-skin friction generated fierce heat.

Faint currents seemed to spark from his fingertips. Each finger twitch made her ass muscles contract and relax wildly.

Taut tension forcibly melted, lazy pleasure spreading to her inner thighs.

'What is this? Sensations... weird.'

Sia leaned her forehead on the bars. Cold metal should've cooled her flushed face, but the contrast only amplified her body's heat.

His fingers paused in her crack, then twisted her entire ass viciously.

"Ahhng!"

An unrestrained moan burst out. Legs weakened, knees knocking. Stomach churned. A body honed by lifelong abstinence and training.

Accustomed to torture and pain, but immune to this stimulation. His touch teased vessels and nerves beneath skin with hypersensitivity.

Humiliating. Face burned crimson. She told herself it was for the mission, disguise—but couldn't deny her body's honest response.

A dampness slicked between her cheeks. Sheepskin lining inside ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the leather pants grew sticky with mucus.

He whispered in her ear. Responsive. Feeling more than yesterday.

Those words fanned her mortification. Did real Adella feel this? Did that hardy warrior crumble to the emperor's fingers?

'No. I'm different. Acting. To fool perfectly.'

Sia forcibly sorted her chaotic mind, tensing her ass. Muscles hardened then softened repeatedly in his grip.

Even that movement felt like plaything to his hands—unbearable.

He spread her cheeks wide. Cool air brushed her asshole, swiftly replaced by hot fingers.

"Eugh!"

She arched her back, rattling the bars.

'Stop. Please stop.'

She begged inwardly, but no words escaped. Refusal meant suspicion. That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠obsession sealed her lips. His finger on her tailbone flashed her vision white.

Mission. Assassination. Poison. All plans melted white. This instant, only those five ravaging fingers ruled her brain.

"Feel good?"

At his question, Sia bit her lip till it bled. Pain to snap sanity, but pleasure waves from her ass overwhelmed. She shook her head, panting. Sweat dripped from her chin onto her armor.

She wrung out a voice. Mimic Adella's gruff bluntness. But it trembled like a watery moan.

"Sh-shut up. Just... finish quick."