Preparing for a New Day
I stepped into the bathroom and activated the magic stone to heat the water.
"Whew… ugh!"
Bracing myself against the warming water, I spread my legs and let out what Vincent had pumped into me over the course of the night.
Really, the man has no concept of moderation.
His seed, still thick and viscous, hit the bathroom floor with a wet slap. I slid a finger inside to scrape it out. The milky fluid had settled deep, clinging stubbornly to my walls—no matter how I stirred my finger through, it refused to come loose.
Tenacious. Just like him.
I let out a sigh and moved on to my rear. The entrance he had tormented for so long was still hot to the touch—no doubt flushed and swollen. When I brought my finger to it, it yielded easily, spilling out its contents.
"Hah, ngh! Nngh…."
As I worked my fingers front and back in turn, my body began to heat up. I needed to occupy my mind with something else.
The first thought that came was of this body that kept welling up with pleasure. According to Vincent, the lower end of my intestines was no longer part of my digestive tract. Come to think of it, all this time I'd been too busy throwing up whatever I ate to pass anything through properly, so nothing but water would have reached my colon anyway. But if it could no longer serve its old function, then what role did it play now?
He said that the deepest part of me had been remade into an organ of pleasure, built for the act of coupling.
Have I truly become a demon?
And a doubt crept in—could this demonized body of mine even carry his child? I needed to leave, as soon as possible. Somewhere out there, there might be a way to break the binding oath he had laid upon me. If I couldn't find it, the only life left to me would be one of receiving his seed, bearing and birthing his children, over and over. And that wouldn't be a healthy future for either of us—him or me.
Lost in these thoughts, I managed to expel a fair amount of what he'd left behind from my rear as well, and just then the water reached the right temperature. I turned the handle and set the water to pour down like rain. Warm water cascaded over me, washing my body clean.
"Ahh, at least I'm grateful he built a facility like this."
To be able to bathe in warm water whenever I pleased—wasn't that a luxury only royalty or the great noble houses got to enjoy? I rinsed away the filth of last night's coupling along with my exhaustion. His heavy scent still clung to every inch of me. If I didn't wash it off, what would the girls think? Even if, in their eyes, I was already the most shameless temptress and wicked woman to ever live.
I took out a bar of scented soap. I'd splurged on it a few times in the past, but unless it was the truly expensive kind the nobility used, the fragrance was never this rich, and never lasted. Sorry, Vincent, but I'm going to use it. After everything he's done to me, I figure he can spare me a bar of soap.
I shut off the water for a moment and worked the soap into a lather, scrubbing the suds over every part of my body. When I stepped out into the changing room, I ran straight into Princess Emily, who was just walking in.
"Your Highness."
A light bow stood in for a proper greeting. Even I wouldn't want to receive an overly formal salute in a bathroom or privy. And had this place been anything other than the Hero's quarters, I'd likely have been dragged before a tribunal for lèse-majesté against the crown—not that I would have gone quietly.
Still, the Princess seemed more practical-minded than I'd expected, which was a relief. A woman like her—I could probably hand Vincent over to her with an easy heart….
The Princess, having received my bow, was staring at me in silence. Ah. Had I trimmed the etiquette down too much? I was just beginning to wonder if I'd made a mistake when she finally spoke.
"Sleep well?"
"Ah—yes…."
Had I really been too disrespectful?
"There's something we need to discuss about yesterday. Once everyone is awake, we'll meet in the parlor."
Oh.
So it's that, is it?! What is it—what could she want to talk about? It must be because of what I said: that I had no intention of marrying Vincent, and that I would cheer the girls on instead. It has to be, right? The Princess certainly saw me spending the night with Vincent—why else would she bring something up the moment she laid eyes on me? The fact that she won't say it now, here, means it's something to be said before all three of them together.
Oh no. If she grabs me by the hair, will I be able to hold back?
The Princess walked past me, unable to answer, and disappeared into the bathroom. This was no time to stand around dithering. I had to at least get clothes from Vincent. The thought of being verbally flayed and hair-pulled while completely naked made me dizzy with dread.
I tried channeling my internal energy through the magic tool he'd given me. The moisture on my skin flew off in an instant, and my wet hair dried in one breath—no problem using it, it seemed. So what had been the issue before?
Each time we coupled and exchanged energy through the magic tool, my body's condition seemed to improve, so I'd tested it—and apparently I was right. For reasons I still couldn't explain, I had been unable to use the internal energy I'd spent over forty years cultivating, an entire generation's worth and more. And the truth I'd learned after being violated by my own disciple and son was this: coupling with him increased the amount of energy I could freely wield.
I threw on a robe and hurried to the bedroom where Vincent was. I couldn't tell him about this hypothesis. If I did, he'd have a justification for his own depravity handed to him. For his own desires—all for my sake, he'd claim—and he might well increase the frequency. Not that it mattered; his forcing himself on me was already a fait accompli. If the hypothesis proved true, I could tell him then, and it wouldn't be too late.
First things first: clothes.
"Vincent? My clothes. Give me back my clothes."
He seemed to have woken some time ago. Vincent stared at me, then dragged a hand down his face with a look of pure exhaustion.
"No."
I protested at his flat refusal. "How am I supposed to face your party members' faces dressed like this?"
"Didn't you wear it in front of them yesterday, too?"
He looked utterly uncooperative. Did he really have to keep me undressed? Pervert, as always. I had to push hard.
"I have human dignity too, you know!"
Vincent's gaze traveled over my freshly washed body. Worried this beast might work himself up looking at me again, I discreetly closed the gap of my robe where it had parted.
"It—it's morning. Everyone's going to wake up soon, so don't get any strange ideas…!!"
I covered myself as best I could and did my best to look intimidating. I could not afford to sink my reputation any lower here.
"Are their stares really that important to you?"
Vincent's eyes curved into round crescents, like the moon. He was smiling, yet his gaze never left my body.
"Fine. I'll give you clothes."
I couldn't tell what had changed his mind, but I didn't dare believe he was handing them over so willingly. I would have, once. Because that's who he was—my one and only disciple, honest and diligent and kind.
But the Vincent of now had mistaken his own feelings for love of me. Was it because I left without a single word of explanation? Because I hid the curse I'd received in exchange? Or was it because, once his deed of slaying the Demon King made it unmistakable that he had surpassed me, I tried to run?
And so he lies to me without a second thought. He's been hiding all along that he looked at me—the woman who was his teacher and his parent—and harbored longing and lust alike. And having finally confessed it, I doubt he feels any resistance to lying at all, not when his goal is to take me.
I looked into his eyes. A red gleam leaked from them. I had learned the hard way that a Vincent in this state would use any means, any method, to have me.
Vincent stepped forward and held out his hand. I retreated a step, dodging it.
"I said no!"
The truth was, I was afraid. He was now, unmistakably, stronger than me. But I was still his teacher. His parent. The fact that he'd outgrown me changed nothing about that. Him taking me as his wife—that was something I would resolve, in time. I still had to teach him. Looking at him now, it seemed my instruction had been lacking in character and common sense, and I owed it to him to make up for that failing.
I warned him in a firm voice. That's right—I can't be afraid of you.
His eyes, as he approached, came level with mine only because of the difference in our heights. Vincent's face soured with displeasure, as though my refusal to give myself to him offended him.
"Here."
He pressed into my arms the clothes he had somehow already produced and was holding. I examined them. They weren't the ones I'd owned, but mercifully, they weren't one of his perverted choices either—a loose, flowing dress. Thank goodness. So my ultimatum had landed after all. I didn't imagine I'd be able to control him this way forever, but for now, I could call it my first victory. A satisfying result, all things considered.
The underclothes, however, were the same obscenely designed white lingerie I'd worn yesterday.
"Is there nothing else for underneath?"
"No."
Vincent's reply was clipped, as if annoyed. For a moment I felt a twinge of guilt, but I told myself this wasn't the kind of thing to apologize for and shook the feeling off. Still—at least the clothes on the outside were decent. The fabric felt so soft against my skin that I couldn't tell if it was simply good material, but my mood lifted a little regardless.
I left the bedroom and headed for the parlor, where the entire Hero's party had already gathered. Vincent stepped forward in place of the awkward, tongue-tied me.
"Did everyone sleep well last night?"
Exhaustion hung on every one of their faces.