Five Days of Endurance
Once or twice, she might have managed to bear it. But Lean was a beast, plain and simple.
He indulged himself at all hours, without rhyme or reason, and from where she stood it was enough to turn her stomach.
Even so, she did not resist. No — she couldn't.
The shock of that massive hand coming down on her still lived in her bones.
And besides, he so clearly relished her obedience that yielding had become the only choice left to her.
"Saintess. You've been waiting a while, haven't you? There are hardly any buildings left standing, so I had to search all over. That's why I'm late."
So she had resolved to cater to his every whim.
"You've worked hard, Hero."
"Oh... Saintess. That's rather sudden of you."
Lean looked down at Serina clinging to his arm, a faint color rising in his face.
"You've suffered so much on my account, after all."
"My, to think the Saintess herself would spare a thought for me — I feel strength welling up in me already. This is a wonderful thing, truly."
"Mm... Hero. Put that down first, please."
Lean hastily set the basket aside and began to run his hands over her.
He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, then let them wander lower, unhurried, savoring.
"Haah. Saintess. Did you just finish your bath?"
"......Yes. Because you were... ah... going to arrive... hn!"
Scooping Serina up into his arms, Lean laid her down upon the bed.
Fumbling his belt loose even as he kissed her, he seemed to have no patience left for undressing her properly — he simply took her, rough and unceremonious.
"Hahk!"
The shock of being filled so abruptly was, this time as ever, overwhelming. It had nothing to do with how fast he moved.
She was as small and delicate within as her slight frame suggested, and even what any other woman would call an ordinary man was a grotesque thing to her.
Even so, she forced a smile.
What he wanted now was not the face of a maiden being violated, but the face of a lover he gathered into his arms every day.
Determined to play the part to the hilt, Serina moved her own hands, rolling her shirt up and up.
When the fabric caught against the swell of her chest, Lean's eyes flashed and he buried his face there.
Serina stroked his hair with one hand and braced herself for what came next.
"Mmm. Saintess..."
"Ah—! Hah—!"
Soon he was moving like a beast, his mouth fastened to her chest, showing a mad, devouring fixation on her body.
Simple bastard. Submission? Yeah, right. I'm not some manga character. If a few rounds of this could turn me into some broken little female, it would've happened the day I was deflowered.
And so he never once noticed the middle finger she raised at him.
Even if it kills me with the unfairness of it, I will grind that face of yours into dust.
The sweet moans she let slip were honest, at least — she had felt good, that much was true.
But she wasn't addicted to it, and never once had she gone looking for him first. That was why she was still more or less whole.
And likewise, in this frail body she was utterly helpless before violence that could beat a person half to death — so she had chosen the wiser course. That, too.
She had even thought about simply dying.
But she was afraid.
And it felt unjust.
She was the victim, after all.
The one who ought to die was that raping bastard — not her.
She wanted to make him pay it all back, somehow, some way.
So she resolved to endure.
That was the conclusion she had reached over the past five days.
And tomorrow was the moment she had been waiting for.
She was leaving this place.
Leaving this village that had become utterly sickening to her, and setting out for Aileum, where the Letan Church stood.
That was why Serina could endure.
The Holy Sword had belonged to the Order from the very beginning.
Which meant the only place in the world that could excommunicate the Hero was also her one and only hope.
"Saintess. You look especially happy today."
And so, even beneath that unpleasant kindness — his fingers smoothing back her bangs — she managed a smile.
"Haah... yes... I'm, I'm happy! I feel good..."
What still troubled her was herself alone — the self that could not deny she truly did feel good.
She only hoped the moment when pleasure devoured her whole would arrive a little later. Even a little.
Over and over, she recited the words she had carved deep into her heart.
When it was over, it would all vanish like a mirage anyway.
So long as she settled for enduring it only during that time, nothing could go wrong.
It wasn't something she wanted; it was being forced upon her.
And there was no escaping it at the moment regardless.
Besides, it wasn't a crowd of them, night and day. It was just one man.
I can endure this.
I must endure.
Filling her head with those thoughts, she let him spend himself to the end.
With a firm purpose to hold onto, even this had become more or less bearable.
If the Hero's word was true, she need not fear pregnancy so long as the stigmata remained, and he would never raise his hand to her again — so all she had to do was play along, feel good for a little while, and then go back to normal.
She would be a woman for only the briefest of moments, and then return to herself.
Nothing about it would be a problem.
Her conviction hardened little by little, and so this time she gave herself to it all the more passionately.
"Haah... now let's rest a bit, and then lunch..."
He had spent everything he had this time; he would need a good while to recover.
Then, just as promised, she could pack her things and leave at once.
That was surely the plan.
And yet what loomed before my eyes once more stood rigid and proud, as if to flaunt its vigor.
"Y-you said this time was the last..."
"Seeing you, Saintess, I simply cannot calm it down. Could we not do it just once more?"
And the bullshit began again.
Who knew how many times it had been today alone.
Twice after the morning wash, four more after breakfast... no. Was it five?
Fuck. Is that what happens when a brain gets ruled by its dick?
".........Yes. Come to me."
I climbed back onto the bed and lay down, making myself comfortable.
"Saintess. I have a request."
The request itself was simple.
But the moment I heard what it was, my face curdled, and there was nothing to be done about it.
"Is that not allowed?"
No — you're asking me to do that? Now?
Straining to hide what I felt, I looked up at him, and his eyes were shining brighter than ever, fixed on me.
In moments like these, I had caught myself thinking it might be easier if he were ugly.
If he looked like something barely human, I could simply tell myself I was being violated by a monster.
It would be every bit as horrific, but better than this uncanny feeling.
Going by looks alone, he was just the sort of young man you'd pass on any street.
Standard features — neither handsome nor plain.
So when I saw him gazing at me with that innocent, guileless face, it made me wonder where on earth such cruelty came from.
And if you asked what conclusion I'd reached, the answer would wound my pride.
At the very least, if I still had my old body, I could have fought him tooth and nail even if I lost in the end — and the thought only deepened the regret.
Then I wouldn't have had to swallow this shame at all.
".........Fine. I'll do it. That thing."
I lowered myself onto all fours and raised my hips to him.
I waited like that a moment, and then his hands, and then the heat of him, touched me in turn.
The feel of those calloused hands was filthy enough, but the weight of him resting against me from behind made my skin crawl.
"Saintess."
"Yes."
"You'll need to raise your hips a little more."
".........Like this?"
"Mm. Allow me to help."
His hands pressed down on my back, and my upper body sank low.
My hips were lifted along with my waist, and I felt myself bared open to him — the thought that everything was on display flashed through my mind.
I had never so much as visited a proctologist, and no one had ever looked at me there before. My face went up in flames.
"Eek! H-Hero!"
As if he meant for me to die of sheer embarrassment, Lean began to prod at my rear with his fingertip, teasing.
"Your backside is a truly lovely sight, Saintess, whenever I look upon it."
If the next words out of his mouth had been a suggestion about trying the other way, I genuinely could not say what I might have done.
The front, at least, was something I had carried all my life — that much I could accept. The back was another matter entirely.
Even if it killed me, I had to stop that. So I whipped my head around and summoned the most pleading look I could manage.
"P-please, put it in quickly. Hero."
"Of course. Since you wish it so, what can I do?"
Lean smiled with his eyes and gave my hip two little taps.
And then he began to press into me.
Up to about halfway, it was relatively bearable.
"Hnn."
Even when he sank to the depth I had grown used to, all it drew from me was a small moan.
"Hnn... aah..."
But what came after was the problem.
I had forgotten.
Forgotten why this position was so favored.
"Ngh!"
He was too deep.
He pushed into places that had never once been touched before.
The feeling of being forced open inside was enough to make me imagine my very guts being churned.
There shouldn't have been that much of a difference.
Apparently there had been a reason Lean never failed to murmur, every single time he took me, that I felt like a virgin.
Did it simply restore itself, brand-new, no matter how often it was used?
If so, it might as well restore everything. What am I supposed to do with nothing but the tightness handed back to me?
Does he mean to keep at it day after day until it kills me?
"Ngh, hah... aah..."
After a few more thrusts, every stray thought was gone.