No matter who they were, everyone reacted explosively to the queen's bold dance. Some more, some less, but none immune.
...But there were only two men who didn't even twitch at the display of their "subordinate."
The first was, of course, Magnus. On the contrary, his frown only deepened as the events developed.
The second, surprisingly, was the red-haired commander himself. The gentle smile never left his face, even as the weird gazes coming his way kept increasing.
To a third party, perhaps it would look like a subordinate stealing a superior's spotlight, even humiliating them. So the looks constantly checking his reaction were natural.
But to the disappointment of the drama and gossip-loving onlookers, the man only looked on with an intrigued face—as if he were seeing a rare creature and not a disobedient underling.
But that was only what was visible outwardly. Inwardly, his emotions were in such turmoil that they practically resembled a tsunami.
Yet, it wasn't rage or humiliation that he was feeling. Nor was it jealousy or displeasure. It was pure stupefaction.
The astonishment didn't even come from the dancing queen; no, while the little fox lady was fascinating, it was nothing compared to that no-name soldier.
'How could this be?'
What shocked him wasn't merely their appearances or actions. The commander had a single ability that allowed him to look at much more than that. And he called it the Astrologer.
An astrologer reads stars not as isolated points but as patterns that reveal identity, fate, and temperament. His ability worked the same way: it saw a person's morals, fears, desires, and impulses as a constellation, or simply separate fragments forming a coherent shape that constituted a personality.
He had always shown his power outwardly as a personality reader, power detector, and he even proclaimed to have predictive capabilities.
But all of that was a hoax. The Astrologer could only read personality. Not that he was incapable of inferring the rest from just that, however.
A personality is the long-term pattern of a person's thoughts, emotions, and behaviors—shaped by their biology, experiences, beliefs, and the ways they've learned to navigate the world.
So if he could read a person's personality, he was naturally able to glimpse into what constituted it.
Guessing someone's power level wasn't hard then; their biology would speak for itself to him, and if that wasn't enough, their thoughts would betray them, their experiences would expose them, and lastly, their belief in their own might would lay their capabilities bare.
As for predicting the future, it was nothing more than prolonged reading of a person's behavior. Anyone would act according to their already established habits and behaviors 99% of the time, so guessing their next move was even easier than guessing their power.
And just like that, the Astrologer went from merely a power to read the personality of others to a heavenly ability that could even see into the future.
The commander had used it his whole life; he made friends and enemies with its guidance, and he avoided danger thanks to it, so his trust in it was absolute.
...But even that absolute trust was being shaken by what he was seeing.
'This much willpower... incomprehensible.'
The commander had seen thousands of personalities, so he always knew that no person could radiate infinite willpower.
'Then… what am I seeing?'
He knew for a fact from his constant observations that willpower came from the interaction between the brain's biology, emotional energy, beliefs, habits, and the identity a person was trying to live up to.
Those were the only sources a person could derive willpower from, but no matter what, willpower remained a finite resource.
Even for General Rowan Vance, the person who held the human's frontline on his shoulders, the Astrologer was able to gauge his upper limit and where he'd break.
'...But not this man. It seems... he won't break no matter what...?'
The commander's red eyes glowed brighter, looking deeper into this incomprehensible paradox, trying to understand the source of it.
'His brain's biology is perfectly normal, so it can't be that...'
He then changed the target of his observation to emotions.
'No, this is not it either... In fact, aside from the overwhelming and illogical love for that fox woman, all I can sense is deep exhaustion and weariness. Not a trace of willpower derived from emotions...'
Like a professional autopsy, he carefully dissected each part of Ashen's personality. 'What about his habits...? Training... training... and training... what a maniac...'
The commander knew that willpower became easier when a person trained certain routines since the more automatic a behavior was, the less willpower it needed.
But it could never explain the infinite stream he was witnessing.
'Finally!'
When he peered into Ashen's beliefs, he found a lead at last. 'An ironclad belief toward protecting that fox girl, another woman, and his family. Hmm...'
The Astrologer got what he wanted, but it felt underwhelming. Many had this belief, and while this one radiated the most light he'd ever seen, he still felt that there was something more.
Not one to hold his curiosity, he checked the last factor from which willpower could be derived—identity.
And the moment he did so, his ever-composed facade almost cracked.
'...He thinks he's the world's final salvation...?'
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The moment the last note of the music faded, Alice didn't wait for applause to die. She hooked her fingers through Ashen's and dragged him out of the hall, tails flicking like banners behind her, the crowd's whistles and cheers chasing them into the night.
Ashen let himself be pulled, grinning. "Might this humble soldier ask where Her Majesty is kidnapping him?"
If he knew that someone had spent the entire dance quietly cataloguing every last inch of his personality like an adamant surgeon labeling organs, that grin would've died on the spot.
Alice tossed him a look over her shoulder, eyes glittering. "Punishment," she said, voice sweet. "You teased your queen in front of half the court and thought you'd walk away clean?"
He bowed theatrically. "Then this unworthy one accepts whatever torment his queen sees fit to deliver!"
His gaze, however, stayed locked on the rolling sway of her hips beneath those nine tails. Alice's smirk deepened; she added an extra bounce to her step just to watch his throat bob.
They reached her manor—built by doting subordinates who'd collectively decided their queen would never sleep in anything less than ridiculous luxury—far too quickly for his sanity. She kicked the door shut behind them.
"Kyaa—!"
The sound barely left her lips before two big hands clamped her waist, yanking her backward. Her spine met the solid wall of his chest with a soft thud.
He didn't ask permission. Not when they were finally alone.
Hot, open-mouthed kisses rained along the backs of her fox ears, down the sensitive fur to the tips, then across her cheek to the column of her throat.
Something thick and unmistakably eager ground against the cleft of her ass through the thin layer of silk.
Alice rolled her hips back, trapping him between plush cheeks.
Eyes fluttering shut, she melted into the onslaught—until a sharp tug at the base of her tails ripped a gasp from her throat.
"Ah—!"
She was suddenly airborne, toes leaving the floor, weight held up by nothing but his fist wrapped tight around the roots of her tails. One wooden geta slipped free and clattered to the tatami.
Tok.
Ashen didn't even glance down. He pressed forward, grinding slowly… shamelessly… against the kimono stretched over her ass, his free hand sliding up to palm her breast and pin her in place.
"Hnng~ If those stuck-up nobles saw you manhandling their precious queen like this," she managed, voice trembling with laughter, "they'd declare war and die of apoplexy before drawing swords."
He answered by yanking her tails higher, arching her forward until she had to brace both palms against the wall.
"Nnn~"
"Hah, now that I can finally touch instead of just look... no one's getting a say in how I handle my woman."
Slap—!
"Oh—♡"
The sharp crack of his palm against her ass echoed. The silk did nothing to soften it.
Slap—!!
"haah—♡"
He struck again, harder, watching the ripple travel under the fabric and the tails quiver in his grip like they were trying to wag and escape at the same time.
"Keep threatening me, little fox," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "I've got all night to remind you who you belong to."