Chapter 35
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Plan in the Darkness
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"Actually."
My mouth moved on its own.
"I want to touch your breasts."
Silence fell. Even the whisper of the forest wind seemed to stop.
Adella's eyes widened round. She slowly pulled her hands away from cradling my cheeks.
"Pardon? What did you just say?"
"Your breasts. I want to touch your breasts."
Once the words burst out, they poured forth like a dam breaking.
"What kind of nonsense is that?!"
Adella stumbled back. Her face flushed red as a ripe tomato, a mix of panic, shame, and utter disbelief twisting her features.
"You're my guard. You're supposed to protect me."
I pressed on shamelessly. [Persuasion (Lv.2)] activated.
Persuasion (Lv.2)
Even words without logic are infused with power.
"Truth is, I have a disease. If I don't relieve my lust, I die. It's like a royal curse or something. That's why I'm rumored to be a lecher. I didn't do it because I wanted to. I did it to survive."
It was a lie. Utter bullshit. But desperation laced my voice.
"There's no women here, no porn, nothing. If this keeps up, I'll wither away. You can see it yourself. Look at me."
I gazed at her with hollow eyes.
"I'll take care of it myself. I'm not asking you to do anything. Just let me look and touch a little with my hands. Can't I at least touch your breasts?"
Adella's mouth hung open. Her gaze swept over my pale face and bony wrists. Her reason screamed 'Refuse him!', but duty and pity held her back. I really looked sick.
She bit her lip hard.
"Is that for real? The disease thing."
"Yeah. It's in the royal records. 'Hyperlust Syndrome.' If you don't release it periodically, your mana backflows and your heart explodes."
I made shit up on the spot.
Adella wavered. Her hands clenched the hem of her shirt over her chest.
"But I'm a knight. That kind of thing..."
"You're a knight, so you have to save me. If I die, your mission fails. What will you tell Duke Karls? That the emperor died because he couldn't hold back his urges?"
I struck her weakest point. Duty. Loyalty to Karls. She let out a deep sigh.
Adella's shoulders slumped. Her exhale cut through the stale silence of the rundown watchpost, long and heavy. It was as if the armor-like wariness that had enveloped her until moments ago crumbled away.
Her brown eyes flickered, darting between my sunken face and the gap between my shirt buttons.
"Just... the breasts?"
Her voice was drained of strength, less a question to me and more a confirmation to herself.
She asked in a creeping whisper.
"Yeah. Just the breasts. I swear."
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Adella bit her lower lip.
'This man.'
Fragments of memory flashed through her mind. That brazen hand reaching through the cold dungeon bars. That cheeky voice insistently kneading deep into her buttocks, claiming it was 'treatment.'
Back then, she'd wanted to believe it was genuine kindness to ease her pain, as if possessed. But doubts had crept in over time.
That's why she'd thrown up iron walls whenever he eyed her with that lecherous glint.
Yet...
She recalled the night a few days ago by the fireplace glow. Him looking down at her sleep-talking self, then quietly turning away.
That hesitation in reaching out, then withdrawing. And today, with dark circles under his eyes and a gaunt frame, pleading, "I'm gonna die."
'Is he really sick?'
She doubted his words were true. Hyperlust Syndrome? Never heard of it.
But it seemed real that he was suffering from repressing his desires.
His ascetic demeanor these past days and that wretched pallor now were eroding the walls in her heart bit by bit.
'Just the breasts, then.'
She thought.
She'd already shown him her naked body in the prison. He'd groped her ass. What was showing and letting him touch her breasts now?
If this perked him up, made him throw shameless jokes again and regain his will to live...
'It's my duty as his guard. Just part of the treatment.'
Rationalization flooded in. With trembling hands, she raised them to her chest.
"Then you have to keep your promise. Breasts only."
She nailed it down firmly.
I swallowed again and nodded. My Adam's apple bobbed visibly.
"Yeah. I swear. On the emperor's name."
"You're not emperor anymore."
Adella gave a wry smile and grasped the first button. Her rough fingers pushed the small button free.
Pop.
The shirt collar parted slightly. A bead of sweat pooled in the hollow dip below her collarbone. A rush of her scent hit me—leather mixed with her tangy flesh.
Second button.
Her fingers slid lower. The shirt gaped, revealing the first hint of cleavage. White skin gleamed faintly in the dark. Sweat-slicked flesh glistened.
Her breathing quickened, chest heaving up and down.
Third button.
Now the upper curves of her breasts were fully exposed. The full mounds strained against the shirt's edges, asserting themselves.
Freed from the tight leather armor's confines, the flesh savored liberation.
Adella's face burned like a ripe apple. Eyes fixed on the floor, she didn't stop. Shame made her fingertips quiver.
Fourth button.
The shirt fell open wide to either side.
Darkness settled like black light in the space, a monster gaping its vast maw.
Sticky moisture trickled down the walls, pooling into murky puddles on the floor. A faintly burning candle flickered uneasily over them.
The rot of an ancient underground tomb mingled with damp earth, crushing the air. This was the heart of shadow, where even light feared to tread.
The one seated at the headrest propped his chin. Black robes shrouded his form, but his exposed fingers were deathly pale.
Nails drummed the table rhythmically. Tap. Tap. Tap. Slow and heavy, like a heartbeat.
Before him knelt a black shadow. Not Sia. Thinner, exuding a subtler menace.
The report ended. A scrap of parchment slid smoothly across the table.
"Roselia's plan succeeded perfectly."
The figure at the head spoke. His low, gravelly voice echoed off the cave walls.
"Our army's foundation is set, and the sanctuary weakened. Cracking Roselia's heart—it's proceeding smoothly."
He pinned the paper with a finger.
"But."
Pressure whitened his fingertip. The paper crumpled.
"The emperor chose to walk into the Black Forest himself?"
A subtle emotion tinged his voice's end—not rage, but intrigued irritation at an uncalculated variable, laced with grudging admiration.
"Yes. After negotiations with Queen Helena, he requested self-confinement."
The kneeling shadow replied. Its voice was androgynously dry.
The head figure scoffed.
"Self-confinement, huh. Survived the prison, now crawling into the forest. And of all places... We hid the intel perfectly..."
He rose. The chair scraped back across the stone floor. He strode slowly to the map on the wall.
A green blob marked Black Forest—a scar unerasable even on empire maps.
"But... this isn't your failure."
He spoke without turning to the shadow.
"Sia's boasts failed, but your target was Roselia. Cathedral blast and tomb raid stirred enough chaos inside. Forced Queen Helena to rush back. Just as we planned."
"Thank you."
The shadow bowed deeper.
The head figure stroked the Black Forest on the map. Rough parchment rasped under his touch.
"But."
His finger halted at the forest's core.
"The black trash will protect him. The Abyss Watchers. Especially if that old one's still alive—truly troublesome. As long as the deposed emperor's there, the forest becomes his massive fortress."
He scratched the map with a nail. Scritch. Scritch. Chilling sound.
"The emperor's bloodline. That filthy blood is the key holding the seal. As long as he lives, the Abyss stays shut. If the Abyss doesn't open, it's a massive snag in our grand scheme."
He turned. Robe swirled, candle flames danced. Shadows warped grotesquely over his face.
"Disguise or whatever—simple assassination won't pierce it. We need him to come out of the forest himself. Or overwhelming force..."
His eyes glinted in the dark.
The prostrated man flinched.
"We'll need a plan."