Arahan's Eternal Obsession
I first met Young Master Rowen the year he turned ten. There was a six-year age gap between us, but compared to the pot-bellied nobles I'd seen, it wasn't much of a difference. For them, age didn't matter as long as someone caught their fancy.
After my master's disappearance, I became an adventurer. Being his disciple, I couldn't hide my strength even if I tried. Naturally, I rose to the ranks of the top adventurers. It took less than a year—no, just three months after starting out.
That's when I met Kadan. He said he needed someone to teach his child the sword because he wouldn't be able to see his kids often anymore. That was his business, and honestly, I was content with my life. I earned plenty of money, and people praised me. Arahan the Monster Strength—a perfect moniker for someone as strong as I was.
But he seemed desperate. I had no real desire to follow him. I'd heard of the Valenos family's reputation from my master. They'd once been in contact with the great knight who was his comrade in the past. The territory was called Snowfall, the cherished home of a storied lineage over a thousand years old.
I knew the man before me, too. His reputation was legendary. Kadan was well-regarded—frugal, without greed, possessing strength beyond his years, and said to unleash black sword aura.
Arahan was surprised. Black sword aura was something her master, Uba Kaliarun, had personally taught to the great knight Rian Rose. That meant he'd reached first-class mastery through his own efforts alone.
It piqued my interest. Just a little. Very little.
I followed him to Snowfall. At first, it was to test his strength myself. I'd heard the Valenos children were born with immense mana. I wanted to see it.
That's where Arahan met Rowen.
"What is it?"
"Hm?"
"That kid over there is glaring at me like I'm trash."
"Ah, that child?"
Rowen back then wasn't scared of strangers. He had no reason to be, and he wasn't glaring out of malice. He'd just pushed his morning muscle training to the limit. That's all.
His limbs trembled, sweat poured down his body. It wasn't the physique of a ten-year-old kid. His head spun, his vision went white. When he tried to peer through the haze at someone, his face naturally scrunched up.
"That's Rowen."
"Rowen? Ah, the illegitimate son from the rumors?"
"...That's right."
"He's fiercer than the rumors suggest."
"Hahaha, don't misunderstand. He's just been training hard."
Kadan spoke to Rowen. "Greet her. She's the one who'll be your master from today."
"...Who are you?"
Rowen dragged his exhausted body to look at Arahan. She didn't seem that old. No, she was young. Naturally—Arahan was sixteen. To Rowen, with memories of his past life, she was just a child.
A year passed. Arahan turned seventeen, Rowen eleven.
Rowen had a body and looks beyond his years. His mouth was foul, but his manners were at least proper.
It was the first time. Someone so pure.
The adventurers I'd met were all rough around the edges—in speech and action. No exceptions. Sure, they were survivors banding together. The handsome rotten ones who approached me kindly? All idiots after my body.
The young master before me was still a boy, but at an age when desires run wild. Yet he never gave me a leering glance, focusing solely on magic.
At some point, Arahan's gaze followed Rowen everywhere. Where he went, what he did, who he talked to. She never missed a moment, watching. Guarding.
She obsessed over the source of these feelings. That's when it started.
As Rowen grew and they spent time together, she realized an emotion had bloomed unbeknownst to her.
'Ah...'
Arahan felt it. This was the new experience she'd craved. A feeling she never wanted to forget. A reason to stay by his side forever.
'A reason? Who cares. As long as I'm happy with him. Wherever he is, that's where I belong—and why.'
Honestly, she thought there was no precise reason. Did such emotions even need one? If she wanted it, she took it. That was Arahan's law.
She'd craved strength, so she met Uba. She gained power, fame. She entered the service of the North's king. Becoming a maid and instructor didn't thrill her, but it led her to him!
Now, time had passed, and it didn't matter. Above all...
Obsession. A love bordering on madness grew stronger by the day. Being glued to him constantly made separation feel empty. Her hands shook, legs trembled, she bit her nails. A small cut on her cheek.
Each time, the young master treated her wounds with a worried expression. How could this not be beautiful love? Without love, would he tend to a mere servant's scratch? No. The adventurers I'd known would let non-comrades die.
'What's six years?'
Nobles married with twenty-year gaps. It wasn't much.
Soon, the young master would come of age. She just had to endure until then.
'Calm yourself, Arahan.'
A little patience. Hold this bursting love for a few more years. Then, surely, he'd turn to her!
She couldn't pounce like earlier and fluster him. How unseemly.
Leaving the room, her cheeks burned, mind reeling. Even Karin trying to chat made her chest tighten, though she'd committed no sin.
Arahan was certain. Wait until Rowen came of age. Ensure no one else stayed by his side. Only her. She'd wait.
If he loved someone else... Grind.
Her teeth gnashed. Even she was startled.
"My, my..."
What a mess I am.
"Hehe, as if Young Master would."
Blood trickled from her bitten lip. She dabbed it quietly with a handkerchief, then sensually licked the smeared stain.
Arahan thought: If he truly met another's eyes... Who knew what she'd do. She might make it a done deal by force.
*
How long had it been since Rowen fell asleep? Plenty of time before evening. The sun still hung high, Lucius not yet back from the hunt.
Arahan headed slowly to Rowen's room. Two hours ago, she'd been hasty, leaking her lust unwittingly. She'd nearly failed to hide her bursting love.
"It's Young Master's fault."
So cute. Who couldn't pounce? She wanted to say it, but kept silent, thinking it inwardly lest someone hear.
"Mm..."
"Oops, must be careful. Can't waste this precious chance."
Rowen's carelessly tossed coat and fur rolled on the bed. Arahan sighed shortly, reaching for them. Still damp from his sweat and melted snow.
She headed to the hearth to dry them...
"Haa..."
Cautiously burying her face in them. His scent and warmth lingered. Others might call it filthy, but not to her.
If anyone dared insult it, she'd smash their skull and feed it to the wolves. Then no one could judge.
"...Dangerous. This is too..."
The strange heat rising in her body was perilously thrilling. Ecstasy. Her body aflame, Arahan couldn't hide her surprise.
She might lose reason and defile this space. No. She had to calm down.
Her emotions had intensified lately; she didn't know what to do with herself. Arahan wore a regretful expression—truly regretful.
Rowen slept, but if he woke, it would be dangerous.
"Sleeping so adorably."
Just from touching his hair briefly earlier, he'd fallen so deeply.
"This Arahan doesn't know what to do with how cute you are, Young Master."
Pushing aside her regret, she hung the fur and coat near the hearth. Water dripped as they dried.
Arahan turned from the fire, returning softly to Rowen's side. Careful not to wake him.
She laid his head on her thigh as a pillow. His rough hair tickled her leg. She flinched slightly, body trembling. Nothing more—just itchy.
Gently combing his hair, she thought. He had an intense desire for strength. Obsessive about magic, knowledgeable beyond his years. Unlike her, hopeless at it.
His swordsmanship was wondrous. Six years ago, their first spar on meeting day—he was exceptional from the start.
Honestly, no instruction needed. Perfect. Strength lacking, but technique and adaptability surpassed hers.
She couldn't hide her shock, felt a twinge of jealousy. Curious how he'd reached such skill.
As hero's disciple, she felt pathetic. So she observed him daily, without fail.
Was that poison or honey? Even now, Arahan couldn't look away.
From then on, spars with him became enjoyable. After that special feeling sprouted, it was a new world.
Every movement captivating, ecstatic. His scent during clashes made her shiver. Time seemed to stop, letting her feel him more.
"Truly a mysterious person."
His desires held no lust or carnality. Pure curiosity. Overwhelming focus on skill and power.
Was he all man? Rowen didn't enjoy fighting but loved growing stronger, seeing his progress.
So Arahan murmured lowly. "Looks like claiming Young Master will take time."
Regrettably. But he noticed her, at least. His earlier reaction was pure pubescent boy.
Who knew he could make that face? Arahan learned it then—and saw possibility.
"Show that face only to me."
She wasn't without feminine appeal. As adventurer, many proposed at sixteen. Tall stature, flowing ponytail, beauty, allure— all fell for it.
So she resented Rowen. "Am I not your type?"
If not...
"I'll become your type. Want a virtuous wife? Or short hair?"
What is your type? Arahan whispered in his ear.
No reaction—he slept deeply. Her whispers wouldn't reach.
Yet he stirred. Arahan turned his body back, laying his head softly on her thigh.
My young master, whom no one else can see.
"Look only at me now."
Don't run.
"At least now, you don't have to flee."
Timing was wrong to confess. Too much happening. She knew he suffered, held back with all his might.
As said, he needed rest.
Rowen stirred. "Hnn..."
Arahan covered her mouth at her own unintended sound. Careful he not wake.
She gently brushed his hair. His flushed ears, cheeks, heated body—unavoidable. Time would cool it.
Perhaps pleasant dreams. A faint smile on his sleeping face. Like a baby then.
"...Father."
He stirred again. Peaceful face crumpling. She could guess the nightmare.
Her heart tightened at his state. Suffocating. Painful. She wished no suffering for her beloved.
"Can't help it with you, Young Master."
Time flew watching his face. For the nightmare-plagued Rowen, she covered his trembling body with the blanket.
Denying worry would be a lie.
"Tonight, I offer myself. Anytime, but you won't ask. This is special."
Arahan lightly kissed his forehead. No one to see. Even if seen, no matter.
She'd have Rowen someday. No—she must. Whatever it took.
Arahan was a greedy woman. A wretched one unable to quell this obsessive heart.
So for now...
"Rest easy, Young Master."
Until he woke. To keep him from escaping, she lay beside, embracing softly.
Arahan watched unwaveringly. Close enough lips might brush with a shift.
With madness-like love, she cradled him tenderly.
A mere maid embracing a noble young master was madness. But circumstances changed.
Their home lost to enemies. They wandered title-less, nobles in name only.
A commoner like her embracing him? No issue, right?
"Isn't it, my Young Master?"
Arahan kissed with full affection. No tongue—he might wake. But light kisses were fine, no?
Yes, fine.
Arahan didn't pounce. Not the time—she endured.
With tender kisses, eyes never leaving, she licked, swallowed saliva, savored his lips without cease.
Until just before he woke. By his side, indulging in his scent and lips.
For now, just... flaunting her love fiercely.
Yes, that's all.
"Right?"