Chapter 23
Last time, he had finally learned the girl’s name. Today, he was determined to name the cat Simon, break the ice, and find out where the girl lived… he had even promised himself.
The cat he had searched for with his own eyes for days and nights lay before him, stuffed and preserved. And the girl…
“Guh—”
He couldn’t hold back the nausea rising in his throat.
Ronius vomited up everything inside him right at the Pope’s feet. Even after emptying his stomach, the bitter bile kept coming.
The Pope subtly shifted his body away, a slick smile spreading across his face.
“Oh my, you must be terribly shocked. I suppose tales of witches are still too much for one so young. Isn’t that right, Cardinal?”
The news of their success in a witch purge spanning over 200 years had set the entire continent abuzz.
Ronius buried the stiff, rigid cat deep in a secluded part of the forest and vowed revenge.
He didn’t cry anymore. He swore he would never grow attached to anything ever again, emptying his mind of all thoughts except for vengeance. Unable to contain the fury welling up inside, he cleared his mind and swung his sword. He cleared his mind and reveled in blood. He cleared his mind and roamed the battlefields.
But the revenge felt utterly unsatisfying. His body merely drifted, while his heart grew infinitely heavier.
She had been alive all along. In the Pope’s clutches, no less, suffering harsh exploitation.
If he had known, couldn’t he have saved her sooner? Could something have been different?
What face could he possibly show her now…?
He wondered if he even had the right to…
“Gah!”
His body jolted upright in surprise.
Even after kicking all his subordinates out, he was still stripped bare save for a cloak, and still missing a crucial part of himself. As if refusing to let him wallow in self-pity, his vulnerable lower body was suddenly seized and squeezed.
The indescribable, violent pain instantly shattered his dark thoughts. Tears sprang to his eyes.
“Ngk, wha—what…?”
The hand gripping his manhood was kneading and moving.
It was a sensation powerful enough to yank even him, trapped in the quagmire of his past, back to the present in an instant.
His feet automatically shifted into a heavy stance against the mischievous hand that had begun toying with his very essence.
Another squeeze and knead.
“Gah!”
And another.
“Ugh…!”
Tensing his glutes, he finally managed to look down with a trembling gaze. Jeina’s eyes were open.
His heart leapt at the sight of her awake… but as he stared, dumbfounded, at how she was treating what she held in her hand like a toy, he slowly, cautiously began to back his hips away.
“Y-You’re… you’re aw—”
But she showed no intention of letting go. On the contrary, she pulled him closer with even greater strength…
“Urk, what are you… Mmmph! Hnng!”
Ronius’s own hand flew up to cover his mouth.
The short, intense moan that had escaped him was unlike anything he’d ever heard or made before. The kind you’d expect from a woman in a back alley…
His face flushed with heat.
Clutching his burning red cheeks, he watched as the woman worked his sacred artifact with vigorous expertise.
“Ah, ah, ah— Ngh!”
His mouth was muffled again out of necessity.
He was a man who had known nothing but the sword and war for half his life. He had never had contact with a woman in this manner, let alone with Jeina of all people.
He was crumbling, completely defenseless.
“Mmmph…! Mmm…!”
He had worried so much about what face to make when he saw her, striking all sorts of poses in his mind, and in the end, their reunion had turned into this disgraceful spectacle.
From childhood, ever since he believed her to be dead, he had often imagined himself standing proudly before Jeina—but it was never, ever like this.
‘Not like this…’
How wretched must he look? How utterly debased?
He was utterly bewildered. And yet, despite it all, he shuddered at her persistent touch.
The slender hand kneaded and stroked his member, strong and fast at first, then subtly easing its pressure.
“Gah… haah…”
His hips trembled involuntarily.
Then, when her fingers pressed down firmly again on the throbbing veins,
“Agh, hht!”
A jolt of pleasure shot straight up his spine. His back arched on its own.
He needed to think of a way to escape this hand…
He needed to think, to use his head…
“Ugh, hng, gr… gr… ma… gnnn!”
His mind had become a mere servant to his c**k. It had lost its status as master, devoured by the monstrous lump between his legs.
The thing had a will of its own. Every time he tried to form a coherent thought, the pent-up desire brimming within it would rudely interrupt.
Dizzying waves of pleasure assaulted him.
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