Tiamat's Nipple

Rene spoke with a shy expression. "Now that I think about it, you mentioned keeping a diary. Could I read it later?"

"Ah... it's rather personal, so... if you truly want to see it, I suppose I can't refuse..." Even I would feel embarrassed if someone read my diary.

"Hmm. Since it's personal, it's fine if it's only occasional, right?"

Still, I had no idea what impure schemes she might be plotting, and there could be information that would help with her training. Things like what she enjoyed, or how her day had felt. Such details were vital clues for understanding Rene's psychology.

"Yes..." She granted permission with obvious reluctance.

A brief silence settled over the room. Even if she hated it, there was nothing she could do. Just how much money had I spent today? When I considered the unexpected expenses, I realized I would need to raise the training completion rate even further.

When I sold Rene, it would improve my reputation with the association and future clients. On top of that, if a noble with real power purchased her and was satisfied, they could become a powerful backer for me later. After all, the day would surely come when Rene needed retraining.

There were quite a few cases where slaves' mental health deteriorated. Sometimes it was due to their owner's abuse. Other times, they would manipulate an owner who had become utterly obsessed with them. In those situations, the owner would commission the original trainer to correct the slave's behavior.

In simple terms, it was after-sales service.

That aside, the atmosphere felt slightly awkward now. Noticing Rene lowering her head and fiddling with her fingers out of boredom, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠brought up the events of the day.

"Did you like the clothes you bought today?"

"Yes. They seem to be by the designer Jean Jaro. I've been wanting to order a few more sets, but he's difficult to commission unless there's a special banquet."

"Is that so? To be honest, I wouldn't have known."

Compared to the women's clothing of this world, which was covered in layers of frills, these were certainly prettier. But were they expensive enough to warrant such reverence? The dresses I'd seen at film festivals in my previous world had emphasized the figure. By contrast, the dresses here seemed to pile on frills and pleats to obscure the body's shape and make it appear fuller. The upper body was somewhat revealed, yet the style felt like it deliberately concealed the legs and hips.

As we conversed, the waiter opened the door and brought out the dishes. He set the appetizers before us: soup, thinly sliced meat, salad, and a small plate of raw oysters placed between us. Then he presented a bottle of wine, showing us the label.

"This is wine produced at a winery in the Francesco Duchy."

From what I knew, the Francesco Duchy was a region belonging to the Empire that we had passed through while traveling from the United Kingdom.

Pop! The waiter skillfully opened the bottle. He poured the wine into our glasses and withdrew once more.

"Shall we eat?"

Rene's eyes sparkled as she gazed at the food, almost before the words left my mouth. She had shown no appetite yesterday, but after several days of eating poorly, she was bound to be hungry.

"Yes!"

The dishes continued to arrive one after another. So this was what a proper course meal looked like—three full hours of eating. Rene seemed to be in a much better mood than when we had first sat down.

It appeared that good food was indeed the simplest way to lift a woman's spirits. It might be worthwhile to bring her to places like this from time to time.

As Rene and I ate and talked, we seemed to grow a little closer. One unexpected revelation was that even as a noble, she did not eat course meals every day.

"We don't eat extravagantly."

"Course meals aren't very practical, so we usually set everything out at once and share."

We passed the time discussing her favorite colors, preferred foods, and the dishes currently being served. Eventually, dessert began to arrive. The waiter brought a chocolate topped with something red, along with gelato.

"For dessert, we have Tiamat's Nipple and pepper gelato."

What on earth was pepper gelato? And whose nipple? What kind of dessert name was that? It was embarrassingly vulgar. I had never even heard of Tiamat before.

As the waiter departed, I turned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to Rene. "This is dessert, right...? What mart?"

"Tiamat. She is the younger sister of God El."

El was the chief deity of this world. Honestly, I knew nothing about its religion, culture, or history. It had been three years since I had fallen into this unfamiliar realm, and during that time I had focused entirely on learning the art of training in order to survive.

Of course, living here, I had absorbed bits and pieces of knowledge. But to attach the chief god's sister's nipple to a dessert name in such a vulgar manner?

Curious, I asked Rene again. "If she's El's younger sister, doesn't that make her a goddess?"

"Yes, that's correct. She is a goddess who has since vanished."

A goddess had disappeared? I felt a flicker of confusion. Rene's face crumpled.

"This was something Mother loved..."

Uh... your mother enjoyed a goddess's nipple? What refined taste.

But I wasn't training her at the moment, and I had no interest in mother-related jabs. Seeing Rene genuinely grieving her fate, I quietly slid my chair closer to hers.

Her face was slightly flushed from the wine, and she looked on the verge of tears. I leaned toward her.

"Don't cry. Isn't today supposed to be a good day?"

It wasn't exactly something an owner should say, but I needed to offer at least a formal word of comfort if my plans were to proceed smoothly.

I scooped a spoonful of the pepper gelato and brought it to her lips. "Come on~ Say 'ah~'."

My voice carried a hint of playfulness, yet Rene still looked ready to cry. When she reluctantly parted her lips, I slipped the spoon inside.

"How is it?"

"Sniff... It's spicy."

It must have been the pepper. "Really? Then try this instead."

I lifted the obscenely shaped chocolate and brought it to the tearful girl's mouth. Rene opened her small, reddish lips. The sight of her sensual tongue sent a faint thrill through me.

When I placed the chocolate on her tongue, she slowly closed her mouth and began to eat.

Munch. Munch...

"How about this one?"

Her earlier sad, slightly spicy expression softened after tasting something sweet.

"It's delicious..."

Rene's sweet voice was still tinged with sobs. I couldn't understand why it sounded so erotic.

Was now the moment? I slowly leaned my face toward hers.

At first Rene looked startled. But soon her eyes gently closed.

I lightly pressed my lips against hers, then pulled back.

This act was meant to transform the negative feelings Rene held toward physical contact into romantic ones. I did not love her, but by pretending to, I was subtly reshaping her emotions.

And... the effect was...

"Ah..."

I could tell from the way she opened her reddened eyes. As if she had expected more, she glanced around with an embarrassed expression.

Heh. I'll need to proceed carefully from now on.

Rene now belonged to me. Rather than training her roughly as before, I intended to deceive her with the emotion of love.

There were two reasons for this sudden change in method. The three-month time limit no longer existed, and training through emotional deception was far more efficient.

To make a person's body lewd, sexual contact was necessary. Training strictly within a master-slave framework could produce good results quickly, but it was difficult to make her willingly spread her legs and crave her owner.

But if we were in a loving relationship and I trained her slowly? Her responses to sexual stimulation would improve dramatically.

Physical stimulation and mental stimulation. If I used both weapons to train Rene's body? Just imagining it filled me with anticipation.

Fortunately, my appearance was decent. If we had simply met on the street, she might have felt nothing toward me, but combining appropriate fear with suitable sweetness made capturing her emotions easy.

In simple terms, it was Stockholm syndrome. It wasn't an officially recognized mental disorder, but the term was fascinating.

In my previous world, an incident had occurred in Stockholm. A man whose name I no longer remembered had taken hostages in a bank there. While confronting the police, the criminal had alternated between terrorizing the hostages and showing them kindness and goodwill. Over time, the hostages grew close to him and eventually felt sympathy and compassion—so much so that they gave favorable testimony on his behalf during the trial.

There were arguments that it had been the misattribution of arousal effect, or that the story had been exaggerated, but what mattered to me was making Rene ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trust me and depend on me, whether through that effect or any other means.

Of course, Rene and I still had a long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way to go before reaching that psychological stage. The fear I had instilled in her was simply too strong. For now, it was time to build a sense of connection.

Was it because of the kiss? She continued eating the pepper gelato with a brightly flushed face. How cute. She must have been embarrassed; she had definitely thought I was going to kiss her. Perhaps she had even looked forward to it. And she was probably feeling it herself—the confusion in her emotions toward me.

Or... perhaps she would need to suffer a little more.

Still, watching her adorable reaction made me feel that coming to this expensive place had been worth it.

That aside, I was curious about the pepper ice cream's flavor. I scooped a spoonful out of curiosity and put it in my mouth. First came a sweet vanilla-like taste, followed by a faint spicy kick from the pepper. Not bad. After several more spoonfuls, a tingling heat spread across my tongue—a different kind of spiciness than the peppers common in Korea.

I also tried the chocolate, whatever nipple it was supposed to be. The rich sweetness of the chocolate, the slight bitterness that followed, and the chewy texture of the raisins combined in an exquisite way. It wasn't bad at all.

"This has a truly unique flavor. It's incredibly sweet, yet not unpleasant. The raisins inside give it a wonderful texture as well."

"That's right. When I was little, Mother would scold me for only eating this."

The alcohol seemed to have loosened her tongue. Seeing her looking rather cheerful, I said, "If you listen to me well from now on, I'll bring you here again."

But Rene's expression was strangely ambiguous. It looked like a forced smile.

"Yes!"

Well, it was still only the first day. I could proceed with the sensitivity training gradually.

After we finished the dessert and wine, the waiter returned with the bill.

Ninety silver? Was I drunk? Did that really say ninety silver?

The staggering amount instantly cleared my head.

These crazy bastards! Looking at the vintage, it was wine from thirty years ago? Who the hell chose the wine?

After a moment's thought, Rene's face came to mind. With an amount that nearly made my jaw drop, I fixed her with a hard stare, but she—perhaps still tipsy—simply smiled back at me with a bright, carefree grin.

Ha. Fuck. Nobles will be nobles, I suppose.