Chapter 44: Service
Chapter 44: Service
A half-erect male member, and a woman frozen awkwardly over it, neither fully mounted nor withdrawn.
Both in casual clothes disheveled from rubbing against each other, pale skin flashing here and there.
In a situation like that—is guilt really a sane response instead of desire?
Sure, some Constellations treat their Incarnations like underlings or disposable point-farming tools. But not me.
I know bone-deep how precious any living human connection is.
Castaways on a deserted island make do with a volleyball for company. Imagine how priceless an actual person would be.
I thought this while holding the soft body of a woman in my arms.
I hoped that after sharing skin like this, she wouldn't pull away out of some sense of obligation.
I wanted us closer. Constellation or Incarnation, contract or no contract—in dreams, in the end, we meet as a man and a woman.
It's fine when she shows me affection and devotion,
but I don't want that to harden into duty—into her treating me like a chore.
Even I know that's a lot to ask. But as the last survivor of an entire world, don't I deserve at least that much?
Luckily, skin to skin, what I felt from her was a tangled mix of lust and craving—
not the sense that she was servicing me out of obligation.
Still, watching Lee Ha-rin agonize over everything made me worry too.
If she started treating sex with me as something to be reverent and anxious about, something to carry out like a duty—that would feel foul.
Han Ye-ji was easy in that regard.
Maybe it's the affection deficit, but Han Ye-ji clings with the certainty that I'll accept all of her—no hesitation, no standing on ceremony.
I wished Lee Ha-rin could feel at least a little more of that ease with me, even if not to the same extreme.
Lee Ha-rin was the type who worshipped Constellations.
The fainting, the foaming at the mouth—that was an overreaction, sure, but worshipping Constellations wasn't unusual in itself.
Some people see Constellations as approachable beings close to humanity,
while others consider them incomparably great entities beyond all comparison.
Right now, Lee Ha-rin, lying in my arms after the act, was exactly that second type.
During sex, lost in pleasure, she had no room for extra thoughts,
but now, in the clarity that follows several climaxes, every anxiety came flooding back—I could feel it through our pressed-together skin.
Lying side by side in the same bed, the afterglow barely had time to settle
before she began fretting: was using my arm as a pillow uncomfortable for me, was her damp skin unpleasant, did she smell—
I hadn't shown the slightest discomfort, but she was cycling through every possible worry.
Obviously, no man in existence dislikes lying in bed with a naked beauty tucked against him.
The tiny minority who do are probably into ugly women, or gay, or eunuchs—vanishingly rare cases.
I was enjoying the lazy afterglow, patting her sweat-slicked, smooth bare ass with soft little smacks,
when the world began crumbling at the edges. Well—that's it for today's dream.
"Don't push yourself too hard with magic research, and don't exhaust yourself casting too much magic just for money, all right?"
I whispered it softly into Lee Ha-rin's ear. She wavered between pleasure and guilt right to the very end, and I thought to myself:
If we just keep meeting often, get used to each other—wouldn't that wear the guilt away eventually?
※
Can a person be miserable because they're too happy?
A contradictory phrase, but maybe it's possible. The thought struck me suddenly.
Happiness I didn't deserve—do I even have the right to enjoy this? That question was giving me a headache.
Anyone listening would sneer and call me spoiled, but what can I do.
The Constellation, Lethargic Nightmare.
The merciful Constellation who chose me as his second Incarnation.
He isn't overwhelmingly powerful. He doesn't have a stockpile of points for massive support. He doesn't wield influence across all the continents.
A modest Constellation with only two Incarnations.
And yet he was a pretty hot topic on the community boards that catalogued Constellation information.
Because of my accounts of him, and the occasional sighting reports posted around the First Incarnation.
[telling the story of how my Constellation gave me coffee] +12
[don't you think Constellation names are way too obscure] +7
[lol my Constellation descends to my workplace every week] +89
A towering height well over 180 centimeters. Pitch-black hair that sways softly with the breeze.
Fine, closely-set features on a small face, the corners of his eyes curling bewitchingly every time he smiles.
And in contrast, broad shoulders and a solid, built chest—a physique that holds its own against any man from the Western Continent.
What woman wouldn't stare at a man who looks like a retouched magazine photoshoot of a celebrity, walking right in front of her eyes?
Even more so when he has the kind of merciful, gentle, paternal-looking face that seems to contain every sex fantasy women have.
"Is this the Constellation board?"
"Huh? Ah, y-yes—"
I was resting after magic practice when a deep, pleasant whisper reached my ear.
Startled, I spun around—my instructor had vanished, and my Constellation had descended in her place.
Thanks to the steadily increasing operational time of his Avatar—five minutes, ten minutes—sighting reports on the internet were growing.
He rested his chin on my shoulder and gazed at the screen, so I froze the hand holding it and kept my shoulder stiffly in place so he could look comfortably.
He must have sensed me go rigid. A long, humming sigh—hmm—flowed into my ear.
The warm breath tickled, but I couldn't manage a reaction.
Because I had broken my promise to him again.
"Really, isn't it about time you got used to this?"
"Ah, Constellation...?"
I felt a little wronged.
In my whole life, the sum total of my physical contact with men was being helped up during school retreats or military training exercises.
How was I supposed to just get used to a man's body so easily?
Not that I planned to voice that excuse.
He wouldn't listen anyway.
I felt a large hand reach out from behind me.
A big hand with beautifully prominent veins.
The thick knuckles bent as they took hold of my Academy uniform skirt.
"The instructor will be back soon—"
"Don't worry. I descended at the door and asked her to come back in about thirty minutes."
When on earth had that exchange taken place?
Was I so absorbed in web surfing that I didn't notice?
The unexpected answer distracted me for a moment—and in that instant, my skirt dropped with a soft whoosh.
My plain, no-frills, standard-issue underwear was exposed, and the fact that it was already slightly damp in anticipation filled me with self-loathing.
"You're having strange thoughts again, aren't you?"
"...I'm sorry."
"What's there to be sorry for. Someday you'll accept it naturally."
The thick hand that had popped the skirt button open slid down, brushing slowly along my thigh.
My heart pounded as if it were breaking, and two thoughts warred in my head:
the desire to feel a perverse, forbidden pleasure right in the middle of the Academy,
and the guilt of daring to use my Constellation to satisfy my abnormal lust.
Ridiculously, my Constellation wanted me to cast off that guilt,
but how could that ever be easy?
"There now. Still—let's keep your voice down. No one's coming into the room, but you never know who might be passing in the hallway."
Lethargic Nightmare—my Constellation was truly worthy of the name Nightmare.
The body of a large man pressed close behind me, impossible to resist.
A hand reached low, as if embracing my waist, rubbing softly over my thigh and the standard-issue underwear.
Held in a Constellation's arms, getting hand-fucked—
a situation that, if written in an explicit novel, would get reported as blasphemy—was happening in reality.
Ahh—true sacrilege...
"Ngh, Constellation?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to calm my breath as it roughened involuntarily,
when the thick fingers rubbing and teasing me through the dampening fabric of my underwear abruptly vanished.
I had briefly hoped today would pass without incident—
"W-wait a moment!"
"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down?"
I opened my eyes and found my Constellation kneeling in front of me.
"Ah, ha-ahh...!"
The heat of his cheek against my thigh, and even hotter breath spilling over my underwear.
This was a Nightmare that delivers pleasure.
Perverted and humiliating. A Nightmare that blasphemed against my own faith in my Constellation.
But I didn't dare resist or pull away.
Because my Constellation wished for this.
"Hmm... when will you be able to get used to this, I wonder?"
"I-I don't really want to get used to... getting off in a public place..."
"If you don't like it, then just try getting more used to me first."
My knees trembled.
Because the hot breath in that low whisper was seeping through my underwear, teasing the crevices of my flesh.
I felt the fabric grow visibly wetter. Felt the electric jolt of pleasure race up my spine and rattle my brain.
Hands braced on my shaking knees, I couldn't flee—plunged forcibly into pleasure, floundering.
Until I reached the peak.
"Huhk, ah-huhk—"
"There. Then we can do the rest this evening."
The soaked underwear was rolled down and caught against my thighs.
My heated sex, exposed to the cool air, sent a brief shiver down my back.
I steadied my breathing and looked down. Still between my thighs, my Constellation's face gazed up at me.
Fever-bright, smoldering eyes and dark brows curved lazily, drawing an arc as exquisite as a work of art.
A man this breathtaking, kneeling in the open air to serve me with his mouth—and he was telling me to get used to it?
For a lifelong loner like me, who'd never even had a proper conversation with a man, wasn't this a trial far too great?
"How about going to sleep a little early tonight?"
"Ah, yes. I understand."
My Constellation vanished, leaving behind only a hollow pleasure.
This had been happening every single day for a week now.
Dealing with the sticky, soaked panties, a blasphemous thought suddenly surfaced.
'Every time I clean up, the post-climax clarity is no joke... Can I really get used to this while drowning in this much self-loathing?'