Chapter 32
Chapter 32
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Lions Have High Pride #3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Splashhhh—.
Twisting the faucet—or valve, whatever you call the thing attached to the pipe—unleashed a torrent of water cascading from the ceiling.
A cramped room like a phone booth.
A baptism of icy cold water, utterly devoid of any warmth.
But even that was impressive enough. Who would’ve thought a place like this had its own private shower? Money really does wonders.
Anyway, after dousing myself from head to toe in the chill, the foul odors clinging to my body seemed to fade a bit, and the panic and excitement clouding my mind felt like it was washing away clean.
“Friend~. Want me to scrub your back~?”
Just then, a soft, feminine voice drifted in from beyond the shower booth door. I panicked hard and sputtered out nonsense.
“N-No, I’m fine!”
“There should be some scented soap in there too~. Scrub every nook and cranny~. Prepping the ingredients is the most important part of cooking~.”
Then came her heh-heh-heh laugh. What kind of chuckle was that? Witches were just like that, I guess.
That’s why they get called witches—because there’s always some corner of them that defies human understanding.
“Fuu.”
No matter how cold the water was, my heart pounded like a massive speaker blasting at full volume, refusing to calm down.
Taking a shower in a strange woman’s house!
What guy wouldn’t tense up or get excited in a situation like this?
If there was one, he’d either be a eunuch or some saintly sage. Regrettably—or fortunately—I wasn’t one of those.
“Come on out~.”
“I-I’m almost done!”
I rubbed myself all over with whatever that scented soap stuff was in the corner, gave my body one last scrub, and dried off with a nearby rag of a towel.
Stepping out, I spotted eyes glowing red in the darkness, like some kind of lamp, and my knees went weak.
“Good~. The smell’s all gone~. You prepped yourself nicely~.”
“W-Where are my clothes—.”
“You don’t need them anymore~. Come here~.”
The witch’s slender fingers grabbed my arm and dragged me somewhere, plopping me down in a chair.
Her strength was unbelievable—way beyond what you’d expect from a woman. I sat there like a doll being toyed with by some girl, unable to resist.
Had I always been this pathetic? Self-loathing welled up, but I chalked it up to magic. That elf witch Elfriede had gorilla-level power in her skinny arms too.
Was superhuman strength a prerequisite for the witch title? As my overloaded brain wandered into dumb thoughts like that—
“Good~. I wanted to let it simmer a bit longer, but I can’t hold back anymore~.”
The witch, who’d vanished somewhere, reappeared holding enormous shears. And I mean enormous.
The kind you needed two hands for, wickedly sharp enough to snip a human arm clean off if you stuck it in there.
“W-What are you gonna do with that—?”
“Truth is, I’ve wanted to do this since we first met~. But back then, I wasn’t quite sure~. Sit still~. It won’t hurt~. Unless you move, then it might~.”
And then she brought those shears right up to my head and neck? Shit, was she gonna decapitate me? I wanted to bolt, but—
My body wouldn’t budge from the chair, like my ass was glued down with super glue. Wait, was it actually glued? What kind of primitive, powerful trap was this?
I was stuck like a mouse on a glue trap. Even my palms wouldn’t lift off the armrests. Then the witch spoke from behind me.
“You won’t be able to move~. That chair’s a legendary artifact~. Ever heard of the Chair of Oblivion?”
“A l-legendary artifact?”
The words “legendary artifact” flashed visions of piles of gold coins jingling before my eyes. Fantasizing about money even now? Get it together, Hassan!
“Yeah, once your butt hits that chair, you can’t stand until someone lets you up~. Most weak-willed folks even lose their minds~. Guess you’re hanging on thanks to that blessing of yours~?”
Snip—.
Something razor-sharp sliced through my hair. My nape cooled instantly, and I just trembled.
“Y-You’ve been planning this since we met? So the request was just bait to lure me in!?”
“Pretty much~. A Samaritan with a blessing~. Where else am I gonna find something this rare~. Any witch would kill for it~. But now it’s all mine~!”
“P-Please spare me!”
“Scared~? Pray to your precious god, friend~. Won’t help, though—there’s no god here~. Never has been in this world~. Just a bunch of morons in funny hats~.”
F-Fuck.
One thing I’d learned rolling through this world for two years: everything here was tangled up deep with faith and religion, impossible to untangle.
In a world ruled by magic and superstition, undeveloped in science or rational thought, it was no wonder people clung to gods as great, mysterious beings.
Even in my world—where we’d sent people to the moon and chatted across the globe via radio—religion held massive power.
In this barbaric place, faith and religion were absolute truth itself.
So, insulting or denying gods was unthinkable.
Sure, polytheism allowed dissing other gods while praising your own.
But denying religion and faith outright? Impossible. You’d get shunned and crushed by mainstream society!
Yet this witch spouted that ultimate taboo like it was nothing.
She was even more dangerous than I thought.
“Samaritan friend~. Such pitch-black hair~. No wonder they call you Pluto’s descendants and shun you~.”
Snip, snip—.
The witch hacked away at my hair with those giant shears.
My shoulder-length locks, now butchered like animal fur, scattered across the floor.
“Good~, all clean now~. Your hair makes great material~. Not just hair, either~. Nails, blood~. Bones and flesh~. Nothing goes to waste~.”
“Eek!”
“That’s why your kind’s on the brink of extinction~. Gotta cherish you~. Protect you~. Forever~. And ever~.”
As the witch rambled, my eyes darted frantically to the beakers and flasks stacked around the hut.
Frogs, snakes, dissected birds inside stared back with glassy eyes, as if saying, “Welcome, friend~.” Like hell you’re my friends, you bastards!
“Fuck! L-Let me go!”
“Finally grasping the situation, huh~. You should toughen up against women’s temptations, friend~.”
Click. Click.
The witch had escalated to clipping my fingernails with those merciless shears. It was so gruesome I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut.
“Not cutting pretty~. Should I just lop off the whole hand~? Kidding, of course~. I’m not dumb enough to gut the goose that lays golden eggs~. There, nails are done~.”
She vanished behind me after clipping my fingernails with the giant shears.
Anxious without her in sight, all I could do was yell.
“W-What are you gonna do to me, witch!?”
“Oh my~. Getting brave~. Not much~. I’ll keep trimming your hair like this~. Clip your nails~. Feed you at mealtimes~. You just sit pretty here, friend~. For life~.”
Swish—a presence approaching. Something incredibly soft touched my nape, and her lips pressed against my ear.
“Life as an outcast is tough, right~. I know~. Scrounging day to day is hard~. I’ll let you live without working ever again~.”
Her words echoed in my ear like pure witchcraft. A pretty woman proposing lifelong leisure?
Getting proposed to by a rich beauty and playing house husband? A total dream.
It was on my bucket list, even. But fuck, not like this—stuck in this chair forever.
“N-No!”
I rejected the offer, tears of blood in my heart. Any other form, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But this? Hell no.
“Why~? Desert-born, so stuck indoors is too much~? I’ll put wheels on the chair and take you for walks then~.”
“I-If I disappear, my comrades will suspect you, ughhh—.”
Slurp, sluuuurp—.
Something incredibly sticky and soft burrowed into my ear, cutting me off.
It took no time to realize it was the witch’s tongue—I was getting my ear nibbled and licked.
“Haaa—.”
First time anyone had ever licked my ear.
That’s how I learned: just that sent ticklish, electric jolts racing up my spine from tailbone to skull.
The witch Nemea smacked her lips away from my ear and whispered.
“Comrades~? As if anything that soft exists in this world~. You Samaritans have a naive streak~. Everyone survives alone here~. Half-assed trust becomes a dagger in your back~. Like this~.”
Crunch—.
Something sharp and pointy bit hard into my shoulder.
“Ow—!”
The pain was so intense—live flesh being eaten—that it rattled my brain.
Elfriede once bit my forearm in frustration after whipping me raw; the memory flashed back vividly.
Maybe witches just enjoyed biting and chewing people.
“Tough hide~. Chewy in a good way~. But what’s this~.”
Her hands slid from my shoulder down my chest and belly, slithering like a snake pursuing prey.
“What’s got you so hard here~. Pervert~.”
“T-That’s—.”
Even bound, shame and embarrassment hit hard.
But in my defense—no man’s blood wouldn’t rush from soft breasts on his nape or the thrill of an ear lick!
“I heard Samaritans are small down there~. But not as small as I thought~. A pleasant surprise~.”
Swoosh—her fingers enveloped my lower half. The unfamiliar sensation jolted me; I nearly levitated a few centimeters.
I finally got why Finley and Luna freaked out over foot touches. Letting someone grab your weak spot took massive resolve!
“Healthy~. Hard as a rock~. Not actually stone, is it~?”
Squeeeeze—.
She gripped so viciously it felt like she’d crush it, and tears welled up.
“O-Ow—!”
“Hmm~. Weird~. Doesn’t this feel good~?”
Squeeze, pull—.
She yanked and clenched my member.
“Gaaah!”
No way this torment felt good. A man’s body is delicate! Might be a reward for some, but not me.
“Wrong spot maybe~. How about here~?”
Finally, she cupped my precious pair in her palm, pressing and tugging.
“I-It’s ripping off! Fuck, stop! It’ll really rip!”
“Hmm~. Huh~. Not feeling good~? Even when I press like this~.”
“Fuck, it hurts like hell! Just kill me! Uuugh!”
No joke, it hurt like a motherfucker. If this was torture, it was a smashing success.
“How do I get it out~. Your semen~. Should I just cut it off~. But that’d be gutting the golden goose~.”
Cut it off?
My mind snapped alert at her brutal words. Pain wasn’t the issue now.
“U-Um, witch ma’am~. May I say something~?”
“Such a polite friend~. Sure~. As long as it’s not ‘let me go’~.”
“I… I’m really sorry, but… how about using your mouth, at least?”