Alchemy Conference (1)
The fragrant aroma wafting from the kitchen tickles the tip of my nose. The man handling the cooking utensils with such skill looks utterly natural—like a professional chef to any stranger watching. Anyone who knew him would gape in disbelief: The great Ariel, cooking? But Terria's soul inhabits that body now.
One astonishing thing: unlike me, still fumbling awkwardly with this body's every movement, Terria wields my body with startling ease. He must have fantasized about it endlessly, practicing in his mind for this very day. Sneaky bitch.
I fed her, housed her, even cast humanization magic on her—and all the while, she was scheming to stab her master in the back. But no surge of betrayal could quell my hunger. As I sit at the table, Terria brings over a plate piled with food.
"Eat up, Master."
"...Isn't this portion a bit small?"
"Dunno. Might be more than you think. If it's not enough, I'll give seconds."
The food on the plate is barely half my usual serving. I shoot a glare at Terria's sly, smirking face, then voice the sudden thought crossing my mind.
"It's not poisoned or anything, right?"
"What? What kinda nonsense is that, Master?"
"......Why."
"'Cause if I wanted to, I could kill a guy like you anytime."
Is that any way for a slave to talk? But Terria's gaze doesn't waver—it's steady, as if those words are pure truth.
"Killing you now might actually be the smart play. If word ever gets out that we've swapped bodies, it could get messy later."
"......"
"But like I said, it's the body that was me, after all. Can't picture it turning into a cold corpse buried in the ground."
"It's fine for you to grope and play with your body however you like? Even though the mind inside still belongs to the guy with the dick?"
"Doesn't matter. Hell, it's fun thinking, So I could make faces that slutty too. Hehe."
"Crazy bitch..."
I shake my head. Got to play along for now. He says he won't kill me—at least not yet. That's something.
I scoop up a bite of the appetizing bacon fillet. Mmm. Same flavor as always. But shoveling it in big spoonfuls like I used to? Way too much for this tiny mouth. A few bites in, and rice grains are spilling messily across the table.
Terria watches with pitiful disdain before asking, "So, Master, what're you gonna do after you finish eating?"
"Huh? Go to the conference with you, duh. You're presenting the research, right? Looks plenty doable to me."
"Y'know, I mulled it over, and... nah, no real reason to bother with all that hassle."
"What...? No, why? This is groundbreaking stuff. Any mage would lose their mind over it."
Terria's sudden change of heart doesn't sound like a joke. Anxiety starts gnawing at me.
Truth is, this presentation goes beyond mage prestige—it's essential. With the hopeless gap between me and Terria, narrowing it even a little means convincing the world first that body swapping is real, something that can actually happen. Sure, the slave brand and its command against revealing my identity make it uncertain for now... but someday, an opportunity will come. A chance to tell someone who can help: I'm trapped in this woman's body.
"So what's in it for me, exactly?"
"That's......"
"Say we live like this forever. The credit and fame? All mine. But you, Master—you're planning to swap back eventually, aren't you?"
I have nothing to say. No clue what Terria wants, or how to talk him into it.
Terria taps the table—tok, tok—then grins like he's just thought of something hilarious.
"How 'bout you grant me one little favor? Nothing tough. Over in a flash. Wanna hear it?"
"......What?"
Why's he grinning like that? So ominous. His words and face don't match at all. Obvious this "favor" ain't simple.
I stare tensely at my mouth, waiting. But instead of answering, Terria grabs my plate and sets it on the floor.
"Ugh, eating like a total slob. You're a mutt through and through."
"......What the hell."
"Get down."
I doubt my ears. Did I hear that right?
Terria drops the playfulness, his voice turning hard and flat.
"On the floor. Eat like a dog. Look at yourself, Master. Humanization's off—you're a beast, plain and simple."
"You... you think I'll do that? You joking?"
"Dead serious. Don't wanna? Fine by me. Skip the conference, whatever."
"And what's with calling me a mu—Eut?"
Shock has my arms trembling, but locking eyes with Terria freezes me solid. That gaze—cruelly indifferent, ice-cold—makes me flinch and look away before I realize it. Can't believe I cowered.
I force my eyes back. Terria doesn't blink. We glare, unyielding, for what feels like ages.
Finally, he drawls, "Not gonna?"
A question, but it hits like a command. Like the slave brand kicking in. Lips pressed tight, I concede defeat.
Priorities. What's more important? Just swallow the humiliation for a moment. That's it. Not even hard. No big deal. Get on all fours and eat. Simple.
"......You promise? You'll do the presentation."
"Yeah. Promise."
Words alone, but somehow I trust he'll keep it. Slowly, I rise from the chair.
Kneel. Brace on elbows. Cool air slips through the gaping clothes, brushing my chest.
Gritting my teeth, I reach for the spoon—
Terria whispers in my ear: "Dogs don't use hands."
"What...? Fuck, you're actually insane...!"
No way. Eat straight from the plate with my mouth? Rage boils over; I spit curses and swing the spoon.
Not expecting it, Terria takes a scratch to the face. He grabs my arm, sighs heavily.
"Had zero plans to lay a hand on you physically, Master. Guess I gotta rethink that. You hit me? I hit back. So please—no more dumb shit."
—Slap!
"Kyaaak...!"
Words barely out, his free hand cracks across my cheek. My head goes blank. The sting's bad, but the shock of being struck? Crushing.
"What... the hell..."
"Think about all the shit you did to me. This? Mild. But I swear—long as you don't swing first, I never touch you."
One of his hands pins both my arms effortlessly. I tremble, half-risen, humiliation burning.
Terria ignores it completely. "Now eat."
Ultimatum delivered. I shoot one last glare—like I'm not breaking—then bend down.
But he knows. It's just hollow pride clinging on.
Powerless. Resigned, I lower my face to the plate.
On all fours like a dog... in front of my former slave. Damn. He called me a mutt, and now the word's stuck in my head.
Ass hiked vulgarly in the air, I eat slowly. Side-eye Terria: finally pleased, smug smile, arms crossed.
The food? Tasteless now, despite how good it was. I force it down.
Sauce sticks sticky to my nose and lips—gross. Terria hasn't touched his own plate, just stares.
Fullness hits quick. Didn't eat much, but belly's stuffed.
Terria, indifferent: "Lick it clean."
Fuck. Fucking dogshit. Curses rage inside as I slowly extend my tongue.
Come this far? Licking's nothing. Self-hypnosis. Regret complaining about the portion now. Should've asked for less.
—Lap, lap.
Plate gleams empty at last. The perverse act ends; emptiness floods in.
What the hell did I just do?
Before I can rise, that big hand strokes my head.
"Good girl."