Chapter 17
After that, the author attached those ‘Twin-Tuggers’ to Rynus’s n*****s. When she channeled her magical power into them, the n*****s would twitch and bounce, being pulled firmly forward.
The author’s earlier mentions of failed magical control mainly came from this part. There was a time when, in her impatience, she cranked the intensity up all at once instead of gradually. That night, Rynus made a mess of the room, leaking drool, tears, s***n, and all manner of fluids from just his n*****s being touched…
He rubbed against everything so frantically the author worried he might wear himself away, and she had no choice but to bind him up tightly. The next day, Rynus remembered his beast-like actions and kicked the blankets to shreds in a fit of shame.
In any case, the author’s long-term project was a resounding success. She pulled and shaped them so beautifully that Rynus’s descendants would never even guess their ancestor had inverted n*****s.
The trade-off was that they became twice as sensitive… but the author seemed satisfied.
Of course, true to the author’s tastes, there were many scenes featuring his prized b******s. So many and so varied that they became a jumbled mess in one’s head. And for some reason, Rynus seemed to absolutely love it too.
At first, he’d been so resistant, insisting his backside was off-limits…
But once one cheek let its guard down, it had to surrender the other, and the author easily advanced to the “gate” itself.
Later, she would even visit his army tent in the middle of a campaign, spanking his rear and telling him to do better tomorrow. And even after fighting a bloody battle, Rynus would eagerly shake his b******s as a form of… reflection.
The days he returned from a great victory were designated as days she’d pound him until he was ready to burst, and he consequently made an even greater name for himself as the God of War.
Even a mere deployment would have guaranteed victory, but with him fighting like a man possessed, his enemies fell before him like wheat before a storm.
Well, thanks to all that, Rynus eventually earned a noble title, so it was a win for him any way you looked at it. By entrusting his body to the author, he’d hit the jackpot in his sleep.
Time flowed on, until now, even the last remaining observation journal was reaching its final pages.
Rynus, who once only knew how to act tough and flail about, gradually awakened to his own charm as a man. Or perhaps it had just been unlocked.
However, the author later heard from him that after he had fallen for her, Rynus had agonized endlessly over how to make her look only at him… how to make her bully, torment, and dote on him, and him alone.
Was it because of these efforts of his? Or was it mere physical infatuation? Or perhaps it was simply that Rynus’s physique happened to be the author’s exact type.
Rynus, as her man, was able to flaunt his charm and receive the author’s undivided attention.
No new figures appeared after that. With Rynus as the final entry, the observation journals drew to a close.
[In the end, in the very end… there was only Rynus.
No matter how many scandalously handsome men the world offered me, even if they gave me every man I’d ever observed, I don’t think I could have traded them for Rynus. No, I couldn’t have.
So this is what that thing is, that thing you only ever hear about… Lo…lov…
Well, anyway!
Now, a hundred, a thousand fine-looking men were worth less to me than a single Rynus, and I thoroughly, completely, and utterly spoiled him, cherished him, and made him mine alone!]
Tch. Jeina clicked her tongue, feeling an odd mix of emotions. A resonant pleasure filled her chest, but it was accompanied by a profound sense of regret.
She also wanted to toy with a man, to ‘cook’ him deliciously. She was confident she could torment him properly and dote on him wonderfully.
“If only I had a man…”
But even she, overflowing with magical power and capable of creating almost anything with her magic, couldn’t create a living, breathing person.
Jeina stared intently at Jackson, the mannequin with its perky n*****s.
“Sorry, Jackson.”
Jackson wasn’t bad, but she needed a real person. A man who could actually feel, sob, and do everything.
If she had a real-life version, she could upgrade her many magical tools far beyond their current state. Since they hadn’t been tested on a real person, they had their limits, which was why they were unfortunately still just prototypes.
She wanted to properly test all these things, upgrade them, test them again, and develop them further. The pleasure she would inevitably give and receive in the process would be astonishingly thrilling.
Her eyes sparkling with curiosity, Jeina closed the last ancient tome with a firm thud.
Now that her theoretical s****l knowledge was filled, it was time to fill her experiential knowledge.
She needed a subject to satisfy this overflowing s****l curiosity.
And the moment she thought that, the room she was in began to slowly warp. As the space distorted in a bizarre way and the ancient books silently disintegrated, a single phrase surfaced in her mind. The handwriting was familiar.
In truth, all of this is a truth already imprinted within you.
I have merely brought forward what you would have known on your own.
You need only follow your instincts.
Simply go where your instincts move you.
Jeina sat blankly, reading and re-reading the words that had appeared so vividly. All around her, her surroundings were collapsing into an unrecognizable ruin.
Staring at the disappearing space and the words that refused to fade, she blinked her eyes with determination.
Blink. Blink.
…
She blinked again, those large eyes fluttering open and shut.
And in that moment—Boom!
A sound, as if something were shattering, came from beyond her consciousness.
Boom! Boom! The noise continued relentlessly.
Yet, even with the inexplicable sounds, Jeina couldn’t tear her gaze away from the phrase that had gripped her mind.
‘Simply go where your instincts move you.’ Especially this one sentence held her captive. It felt as if her own consciousness was gradually awakening.
“Instincts, instincts…”, she muttered softly, stubbornly clinging to those words as if engraving them onto her heart before squeezing her eyes shut. Then she opened them, blinking again…
Her vision darkened for an instant, then flipped upside down in a flash.
What entered her view was a ceiling—a familiar ceiling. One stained with blue mold spreading from the corners, musty and filthy.
She had returned to the original basement. Her long-time prison, right there.
‘What in the world?’
It felt like waking from a long sleep, but her mind was sharper than ever.
Boom, boom. The sound striking her eardrums, jolting her back to reality. It was undoubtedly the same sound she’d heard before returning here.
Soon followed by thud, thud, thud… the overlapping noises of multiple weights resonating simultaneously. The sounds were getting closer.
As if she had never left this place, she lay still without moving.
Were the things she saw and felt merely a dream? Just an illusion?
But if so, why was it all so vivid? She had lived through every moment.
Her magical power surged uncontrollably. She gazed at her wrists, now clean without a trace.
‘Right. Does it matter if it was a dream or not?’
The sudden appearance of another basement. The ancient tomes filling that tiny room. Every single character, remembered clearly. Was there any need to figure out its true nature?
She had thought while reading. She had firmly resolved, all on her own.
That she would definitely satisfy this vastly expanded s****l curiosity. She abruptly sat up.
“If a man won’t just fall into my lap…”, she declared, burning with determination.
Then, shortly after…
As if by a lie, a real man dropped right in front of her.
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