Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Lingering Aftertaste
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“Wow...”
Even more spectacularly than the first time Yuris dove into the illusion.
Tidal squirt and pussy juices weren't all—her piss soaked not just her pants but the chair too.
I'd pressed my erect cock against her lower belly like grinding it in, and the bulge from the chair had only squeezed her pussy lips, yet Yuris seemed to feel a pleasure she'd never experienced before. She went completely.
“Maa...ster...”
Still lost in the illusion, Yuris stared blankly into space, murmuring in a low voice.
Her face was a total mess.
She looked properly satisfied, at least.
There were still thirty minutes left, but the magic circle must have judged her mind couldn't take any more—it shut down.
I pulled my cock away from her lower belly and put my pants back on.
Now for cleanup.
Like before, I used magic to clean her clothes.
As the Clean spell activated, her pants and the chair—stained with squirt—were spotless in an instant.
Of course, her love juices were tougher to erase completely, leaving traces on her panties and the chair, but those would fade on their own with time.
With cleanup done, I eyed the dildo.
“Even just teasing it at her mouth broke the immersion.”
I never imagined even Yuris, so sensitive to smells, would snap out of it enough for the spell to break.
And hilariously, shoving the real cock in there restored her immersion perfectly.
So how the hell do I cover for this? Compensate somehow?
Spray some men's cologne on the dildo?
“At this rate, I might have to fuck her with the real thing.”
Just like when I made her suck it off earlier.
Yuris has no clue.
That the cock she blew in the illusion was the real deal.
*She must never find out.*
If she did...
The Iron-Blood Knight might come charging for my throat.
I finished tidying the surroundings and waited for Yuris to come to.
She stirred awake about thirty minutes later.
“Umm...”
Yuris let out a soft groan as she sat up.
Opening her eyes, she saw not the bandit's prison cell but the ceiling of the Hall of Illusions.
She was still lying on the bed.
Her lower belly still tingled with the sensations from the illusion.
The pressure rising from her lower belly and groin.
The rattling chains that stole her arms' and legs' freedom.
The bandit's mocking voice degrading her.
The vulgar jeers and cheers from his bandit underlings as they watched her submit to cock.
All of it lingered vividly.
And yet.
The totally different reality before her eyes made her realize once more that everything up to that point had been an illusion.
“Ahh.”
The end of the illusion left her with a profound sense of emptiness.
Right.
What she'd gone through was just an illusion.
An exhaustion as intense as the pleasure that had stained her mind now washed over her body.
“A dream... yeah, it was just a dream.”
A futile illusion she could never truly grasp, no matter how desperately she reached for it.
Sure, she could dive back in anytime she wanted, but the fact that it wasn't real kept nagging at a corner of her mind.
No.
*Because it wasn't real, I could unleash my desires freely.*
I'd enjoyed it thoroughly until now—so why feel regret at this point?
I enjoyed it precisely because it wasn't real.
“Time to go back to my everyday life as the worshipped knight.”
When I'm just a weak woman defeated by a cock.
But...
What if she could experience something like that for real? Wouldn't it be even better than this?
If a man really pinned her down and fucked her...
What kind of pleasure would await her then?
Her pussy—still a virgin, untouched despite the illusory rape—remained a tight, pristine clam.
The shame of a real cock stretching that virgin pussy... it had to dwarf the illusion, right?
Just imagining it made fresh juices flow again.
That was when it hit.
“...Huh?”
She wrinkled her nose at the sticky taste lingering in her mouth.
It was identical to the cum from her master—the bandit—in the illusion.
“Why...?”
It was weird.
An illusion shouldn't leave any taste behind, let alone one spreading through her mouth.
It was such a faint trace that even she, a master knight, could barely detect it unless she focused.
“...So it wasn't entirely an illusion?”
She felt the corners of her mouth curl up without thinking.
She remembered the owner of this place, the illusion mage, gripping her arm before the fantasy began.
-Remember this sensation.
He'd said something about amplifying it in the illusion from that seed.
“No way...?”
She slowly lifted her head to look at the shop's owner, the mage.
“Ah, you're awake?”
Max, the illusion mage.
A high-caliber caster who'd treated her to that illusion magic.
*Could this guy be...*?
The thought crossed her mind just as she sat up—and her eyes locked onto the massive tent in his pants.
His lower half stood rock-hard, even dampening part of the fabric.
How much precum had he leaked?
“Boss, are you... right now...?”
“Ah, sorry about that. Cleaning up got my body reacting on its own.”
“Your body reacted?”
“Yeah. You're the Iron-Blood Knight-nim, always so upright and proper. Seeing you all disheveled like that... I got excited without realizing. Can't calm down.”
“Ah...”
It dawned on her—this man knew her dirty little secrets, unlike anyone else.
He claimed he couldn't see her illusions, but he'd always handled the aftermath.
He had to know better than anyone what kind of fantasy Yuris was indulging in.
*Maybe he was watching the illusion...*
How else could he prepare so perfectly for what came next?
Of course, to her right now, it didn't matter.
The old Yuris might have chewed him out for being shameless, but the current one—who savored the pleasures of illusion—felt grateful instead.
She stared blankly at his tented pants.
Was it the illusion's aftereffects?
She couldn't tear her eyes from the mage's bulging crotch.
Biting her lower lip, she thought about stripping those pants off and peeking inside.
Why was she even thinking that?
Maybe it was just the illusion's lingering haze.
That familiar scent...
The aroma wafting from his pants felt so similar to the taste of her master's cum still in her mouth.
*Similar scent?*
Enthralled by Max the mage's smell, Yuris drew closer to him.
Sniff sniff.
Without realizing, she leaned in close to inhale.
And without thinking, words slipped out.
“Maa...ster...?”
“Yes?”
Ah.
What the hell did I just say?
Her face burned crimson with shame and humiliation.
She'd uttered words that should never pass her lips.
Crazy. I'm losing it.
Yuris, are you in your right mind?
Dragging stuff from the illusion into reality—what the hell!
She frantically waved her hands and shook her head.
“Ah, it's nothing.”
The flustered mage stared at her blankly.
“Just... a familiar smell, so I blurted it out without thinking...”
She kept babbling incoherently, not even registering her own words.
“Gonna shower? Clean magic handles the clothes, but you should wash your body properly.”
“Ah, yeah. Good idea.”
She bolted to the shower like she was fleeing.
And throughout the shower, she couldn't shake the familiar taste in her mouth or the piercing scent of Max.
*Wasn't it similar last time too?*
What if—just what if.
Even a one-in-a-million shot.
“If the owner of this place, the illusion mage... is my master...”
Just the thought made her lower belly heat up.
The second Knight Order Captain Veron's little sister. Humanity's greatest spirit mage, revered by all—the lady of House Silvesta, the marquisate.
Helen de Silvesta.
A stunning silver-haired, blue-eyed beauty who never lost her spot as top student at the Imperial Academy, attended only by the empire's finest talents.
Even after just one year enrolled, she outscored the fourth-year graduates.
She even surpassed the current professors when it came to spirits.
Achievements beyond her mere twenty-one years had the entire academy singing her praises.
She was the talent destined to advance spirit arts for generations to come.
Always succeeding—maybe that's why.
To her, losers were nauseating scum she never wanted near.
Beings not worth a second glance.
Ones you trampled without mercy, as was natural.
Especially those bottom-of-the-barrel idiots vying for last place at the academy.
“Smells like a loser.”
It disgusted her.
Just sharing space with those failures.
The very fact soured her mood, and she wanted nothing more than to escape the pathetic nerds in her academy class.
“Helen, I have a question...”
“Fuck off. You stink.”
So she spat curses at the idiots begging for her help and shooed them away.
Yeah.
That was how you dealt with losers.
But...
*There's one I can't.*
She had exactly one worry in her pampered life.
Her brother, Veron de Silvesta.
The immature knight forever stuck as number two, overshadowed by the Iron-Blood Knight Yuris Beletaon, yet too proud to admit defeat.
Unlike her, he kept losing but refused to drop his ego. Her one headache.
-House Silvesta must always be the best.
With that mantra etched in her heart, his failures gnawed at her.
-Kehahat! This time, bro's gonna win and bring victory home!
Her brother always shouted it with such confidence, but she'd never once seen him pull it off.
She knew.
The Iron-Blood Knight, symbol of imperial victory, was unbeatable in the empire barring a hero.
But he didn't always even get a proper fight before losing.
Maybe that's why.
The one time she met Yuris at court, her voice had been ice-cold.
The one who kept beating her brother, tarnishing the family name.
She hated looking at her.
That's why.
She'd never once watched a mock battle, the spectacle every imperial citizen enjoyed.
*What's so great about losing?*
But for the first time, Helen went to cheer for her brother Veron.
The reason was simple.
-Helen, if you come, I think bro can win.
Of course, even in her very first match as spectator, Veron lost.
“You lasted two minutes longer than usual. Thanks to you, Helen.”
Veron patted her head happily, but she hated his breezy optimism.
“Don't touch me. You didn't even win.”
“Don't be so uptight. You gotta have some grace even in defeat.”
“You're too soft, bro. Toughen up on yourself.”
“Helen, you're the one who's too harsh. Gotta learn some grace, I said?”
That was why she hated her brother.
That baseless cheerfulness.
The pointless composure.
Wasn't he pissed off?
“No time for that. Someone's gotta restore our family's sullied honor.”
It pissed her off.
She hadn't come to cheer just to say shit like this.
“Sorry.”
Helen looked at Veron.
His awkward grin somehow resembled the very losers she despised.
Her brow furrowed even deeper.
“Whatever. I'm going home—don't follow.”
As she left the training grounds, she happened to spot Yuris hurrying away.
“Where's she rushing off to?”
Curiosity piqued.