Collector’s Cage - Chapter 65

With no one around to engage in trivial banter or pick a fight, a bored Jobern rose from his seat. Rather than wasting time at a dull party, he’d rather go home and play with his adorable animals. Thinking he should visit Froy’s mansion one more time to find out what he’s so engrossed in, he trudged wearily back home.

***

Hermie, her eyes rimmed red, sharply shouted,

“You perverted bastard.”

More than a week had passed since she’d been confined to the room. It was now starting to smell like someone lived there. A table and chairs had appeared, and an elegant sofa had been brought in.

A large bookshelf had also arrived. Half of the books crammed onto its shelves were explicit erotica with content difficult to look at directly.

“Perverted? That’s not it.”
“What are you talking about, it is!”

And the reason Hermie was cursing at Froy right now wasn’t just because of books or anything trivial.

It was because of her resentment towards Froy, who still hadn’t given her a single set of clothes, and because of his annoying, groping hands that started bothering her even in broad daylight.

She had just sat down on a chair to try reading a book when, displeased for some reason, he came over and started fondling her chest.

“Get away from me.”
“I’m studying too.”
“What kind of study is this?!”
“There’s still so much I don’t know…”

His face buried in Hermie’s chest as he mumbled timidly was so detestable that Hermie grabbed his hair and pulled.

“What exactly is it you need to know? You idiot.”

It was truly strange. No matter how much he looked, Hermie remained an elusive, unidentifiable creature, like some unknown being.

And his curiosity kept growing. He didn’t know what exactly he was curious about, but he kept wanting to know, kept looking.

Froy pushed his thigh between Hermie’s legs. The pressing weight forced her legs apart automatically.

The reddened flesh inside was damp and wet again today. Almost every day, whenever Froy touched her, it was always wet. What a fascinating body.

“Why does so much fluid come out…?”
“You’re so annoying.”

Hermie’s face flushed bright red. Looking at that face, Froy wore an infuriating smile as he picked up one of the books lying on the table.

“I found something new.”
“…What is it now?”

Hermie looked up at him with anxious eyes. Froy kindly showed her the illustration in the book and explained.

“This slightly protruding part here.”

He pointed to a drawing of a female genitalia. He really seemed like a lunatic with no concept of shame.

“……”
“It says you need to touch this part a lot. That it feels good.”
“What nonsense is that?”
“Whether it’s nonsense or not, we’ll know if we try.”

Froy slid his hands under Hermie’s armpits, lifted her up, and sat her on the table.

Pulling a chair over, he sat in front of her, adopting the earnest posture of an explorer. Hermie looked down at him with a weary expression that said, ‘here we go again.’

“Haa.”

Hermie let out a sigh as if giving up.

For the first four days, Froy had left the room unattended for long periods. The time without him was so boring, lonely, and miserable that Hermie would secretly sniffle and cry.

One day, as she was crying helplessly, Froy returned early and discovered her. He asked why she was crying, and his coaxing, comforting touch made her pent-up sorrow burst forth, and she cried even harder.

She didn’t tell him why she was crying. Instead, she confessed why she had done what she did.

Whether he believed her or not, it was unfair to take the blame for something that wasn’t her fault.

‘I-I didn’t mean to do that! That mage ran off with the money, and I was trying to get the item back…!‘

She blurted it out tearfully and incoherently. Froy sat her on his lap, wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders, and listened to her story. His touch was gentle and affectionate, and for a moment, she thought he might have forgiven her a little? But then,
After hearing her whole story, Froy said something completely off-topic.

‘Even if that’s what happened, it doesn’t change the fact that Hermie is mine. I bought her, after all.’