Asca Island.
Maya leaned against the tree trunk, her cheeks flushed a fiery red as if soaked in strong liquor. Even her earlobes were crimson enough to seem on the verge of bleeding. Her shoulders trembled uncontrollably, fine beads of sweat trickling down her temples, dampening the stray hairs at her temples.
The village was still busy cleaning up the aftermath. Saga had suffered severe injuries but managed to survive, now being carried by a few brave villagers to tend to his wounds. The turmoil surrounding the Seven Star Sword had subsided, yet the shadow of that man clung to her like entwining vines, suffocating her, demanding she fulfill that promise of "any price."
Maya's gaze drifted toward the Seven Star Sword not far away. She bit her lower lip and finally couldn't hold back, her voice as faint as a mosquito's hum: "That sword... you'd better be careful with it."
"Oh?" Ryan was supporting Maya's waist, his eyes lowered to gaze at her honey-toned snow-white back glistening in the sunlight. He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"It's a cursed sword," Maya lowered her head, her tone filled with unconcealed worry. "Saga's mind was corrupted by it, to the point he forgot who he was... If you keep it with you long-term, no matter how strong your willpower is, you'll inevitably be slowly ensnared by that demonic energy. When that happens..."
"So what?"
Ryan let out a derisive laugh, his fingers pressing lightly against Maya's waist, pulling her closer. His eyes fell on the Seven Star Sword in the distance, his tone devoid of any fear. "If I can't even withstand a sword's curse and end up being controlled by it, then I truly deserve to be nothing more than trash of that caliber."
Just a sword, and it thinks it's some soul-snatching token?
So-called curses, frankly, are just another form of power. If you can master it, use it as a stepping stone. If you can't, you become its prey. If I can't even handle something like this, then it just proves I'm worthless, deserving to fall in a place like this.
This wasn't arrogance—it was genuine indifference.
Back on the Floating Island, Ryan had been treated as a test subject, confined in icy laboratories, enduring the agony of injections and training that pushed his body to its limits every day. Whether he would survive until tomorrow was always unknown.
Having tasted the most extreme despair, where even life and death became disposable, how could he possibly care about a sword's "curse"?
What if he was eroded by the curse? What if he lost his mind? At worst, it would mean death.
After all, his life should have rotted away long ago in the Floating Island's labs. Every extra day he lived now felt like a bonus.
"You can't underestimate it!" Ryan's dismissive tone made Maya anxious, her voice rising involuntarily. "The Seven Star Sword's curse is more insidious than you think! It's not something you can resist through sheer stubbornness!"
Ryan looked at Maya. Even though she was being pressured to pay the "price" and was in an awkward position, she was still expending effort worrying about the safety of someone who had crossed her. She truly lived up to being a kind shrine maiden, so out of place in this treacherous world.
"Then shall we test it?" Ryan suddenly leaned forward, his warm breath almost brushing against Maya's face. The distance between them abruptly narrowed, close enough to see each other's reflections in their pupils. With a face full of confidence, he said, "Let's see whether it can drag me into the quagmire of the curse, or whether I'll completely master it and turn it into an obedient weapon."
"You..." Maya tried to speak again, but Ryan suddenly bent down, silencing the rest of her words.
Maya's entire body stiffened. She whipped her head around, her cheeks burning as if on fire. Seizing a moment to catch her breath, she stammered defensively, "I... I was only thinking of you..."
"This isn't the time to talk about swords." Ryan looked down into Maya's panicked eyes, his fingertips gently pinching her scorching earlobe as a deeper smile curved his lips. "Our 'main business' isn't finished yet."
"Let me go..." Maya's knees were hooked securely, the dizziness from being lifted off the ground mingling with overwhelming shame until even the roots of her ears burned. Instinctively clutching his collar, she struggled to get down, but Ryan's arms were like iron bands around her. He paid no heed to her protests, carrying her deeper into the woods.
....
Some time later, Ryan leaned against an old locust tree, a half-smoked cigar held between his fingers. Gazing at the shimmering, silvery reflections on the lake, he let out a low chuckle tinged with lazy satisfaction.
Maya's earlier display of restrained helplessness had been more intriguing than he'd anticipated. This witch's "offering" certainly hadn't disappointed.
"Is... is that enough?" Maya sat slumped on the grass, her skirt crumpled and dotted with stray blades. When she lifted her face to look at Ryan, sunlight filtering through the leaves illuminated the unshed tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. Two deep blushes spread from her cheeks all the way to her ears, and every word seemed squeezed through clenched teeth, laden with unspeakable shame.
She had once been the most respected witch in the village—her hands had traced the sacred tree's rings, she had prayed for villagers stricken with plague. Yet now... The grass beneath her knees prickled her skin, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the burning humiliation in her chest.
But Maya had no choice. From the moment she agreed that "any price would do," she understood her duty. She just never imagined it would be... this humiliating.
"Hmm, not bad." Ryan glanced down, his gaze lingering on Maya's disheveled state. A faint, ambiguous smile played on his lips, clearly pleased with her reluctant-yet-yielding demeanor.
Maya's fingers abruptly curled, gripping the grass beneath her. Her mind wasn't occupied with resentment, but rather fear—fear that this man would break his word, that his greed would prove insatiable, that he would use this leverage to torment her endlessly, that he would strip away what little dignity she had left.
Only now did she finally muster a sliver of strength, whispering, "I... I've paid the price I owed."
As the words left her lips, the tension in her spine eased almost imperceptibly, as if the last of her strength had drained away, and even her breathing came easier.
"Don't worry." Ryan saw through her thoughts, adjusting his belt as he spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. "I may not be a good man, but my word is my bond. What's said is said—I won't go back on it."
Maya remained silent, burying her face deeper. Relief, humiliation, uncertainty about the future, and a faint, reluctant sense of security born from his promise of "no going back" all churned within her—a feeling she refused to acknowledge even to herself.
"Thank you for your hospitality." Ryan, already fully dressed, reached out to pick up the Seven Star Sword leaning against the tree. With a crisp click, he sheathed it at his waist, brushed off the grass fragments from his lapel, and said casually, "I'm leaving."
With that, Ryan turned and walked away. His footsteps crunched through the fallen leaves, soon disappearing deep into the forest, leaving only the faint scent of cigar lingering in the air, mingling with the mist over the lake.
Maya remained seated where she was. Only when his figure had completely vanished from sight did she slowly raise her hand to cover her flushed face. The warmth of his touch still lingered on her skin, and the sense of humiliation surged within her once more. Yet this time, it was strangely intertwined with a peculiar calm, as if everything had finally settled.
Had she won? Exchanging her dignity for temporary peace in such a manner.
Perhaps.
But this price would likely be etched in her heart for a very, very long time.
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