Chapter 25
Written by Bayzo Albion
I was in Siesta's house, the air still heavy with herbs and the faint warmth of the bath she'd prepared.
I let out a breath I'd been hoarding all day, deep and ragged. My body ached for it—the raw sting of fresh cuts, the bone-deep weariness, the coiled fury in every strained muscle—all of it yearned to dissolve in that beckoning heat, to be reborn soft and unburdened.
Siesta turned toward me, but I was faster—one step closed the distance. My arms slid around her waist, drawing her back with a gentleness that didn't match the pulse of heat running through me. She yielded like warm clay, her back finding the curve of my chest as if her body already remembered the shape of mine.
Her scent struck me—wildflowers after rain, sweet sap, the faint hum of lightning before the storm. It wasn't perfume but something alive, elemental, pulling me under.
"Why let it cool alone?" I whispered against her ear.
She didn't answer. Just leaned into me, her breath trembling, her silence a soft surrender.
Then came only warmth. And the quiet after.
– – –
The scent of blooming flowers and fresh herbs hung heavy in the air, almost overwhelming, mingling with the earthy notes of sweat and warm skin. In that intoxicating blend, after everything that had passed between us, the world felt achingly real—too vivid, too perfect to be anything but waking truth.
I traced my fingers along her back, feeling her body slowly unwind in my arms, still trembling faintly from the echoes of our closeness. She pressed against me, wrapping her leg around mine as if afraid I'd slip away like a dream.
Interface: Conditions met. You've unlocked magic.
Hint: Magic drains stamina.
Could I truly appreciate the beauty of this world without enduring pain, despair, and isolation? Perhaps suffering isn't an enemy, but a vital contrast that makes light blindingly bright and joy profoundly real. Only by wading through darkness do we learn to see the subtle shades of light that once seemed mundane. How else would we savor the taste of paradise without descending into hell? How would we value silence without hearing the scream of our own soul?
A fresh wave of desire stirred within me, my body responding with renewed vigor—as if flesh knew no exhaustion, only endless longing.
"If you turn out to be some intelligent monster, I won't betray you," the Baroness said suddenly from nearby. Her voice was steady, laced with genuine resolve. "I'll protect your freedom. I promise."
"I think I'm still human," I replied, trying to sound confident, even if doubt lingered in the back of my mind.
System, show me my stats, I commanded mentally.
System: Attention. Levels don't reflect your true power. Boundaries are blurred.
Interface: Cuddly Boogeyman. Level 1. Experience: 600.
"That's it?" I snorted. "No strength, no agility, no stamina, no health? Where are my numbers?"
System: Do you want to add more game mechanics to the world? YES / NO
"No, I don't want to chase pretty numbers. Happiness isn't in the stats," I answered.
Why? whispered the inner demon.
"Because numbers shouldn't decide the outcome. The weak should be able to outsmart the strong through cunning, willpower, and skill. That's what makes it interesting."
Steam clung to the air, thick and shimmering, wrapping the room in liquid gold. Siesta sank into the bath first, her hair drifting like ink across the water's surface. When she looked back at me, her smile said everything words couldn't.
I joined her. The water rippled once — then twice — before settling into a rhythm that wasn't the water's alone.
– – –
I lost control completely. In that shattering instant, my body convulsed, unleashing a second surge—thick, intense, scorching. I erupted like a volcano, the world vanishing in the chaos. A storm raged in my mind, light bursting from within.
The wave of ecstasy crashed over me, so overwhelming that I collapsed into the water, utterly spent.
*I... can't... breathe!* Panic flared inside. My lungs burned, darkness closing in.
But then—a hand.
The Baroness yanked me up with surprising strength. I gasped, coughing violently, while she burst into wild laughter.
"You're really something!" she said through her giggles. "Nothing dumber than dying from pleasure. Especially twice in one night!"
I glanced at the elf. Her face was flushed with satisfaction, damp hair clinging to her cheeks, lips parted in lingering bliss. She lounged in the bath like she was melting into the water and the afterglow. And then... her lips twitched, revealing two sharp, gleaming fangs.
I blinked. No, it wasn't my imagination.
Her gaze shifted in an instant—heavy, predatory, ancient. She turned to me sharply, her eyes pulsing with primal hunger, as if I were no longer a person, but a vessel. Just a body brimming with what she craved.
In any other state, I might have fought back. Or at least fled. But now... I could barely draw breath. My body was drained to the core—no strength left, no spark of energy, just a sluggish warmth in my muscles and a hazy fog in my head.
The elf rose slowly from the water. Droplets cascaded down her form, but she no longer seemed alluring. There was something... feral about it. Hunter-like. Sacred, even. She approached, and I couldn't even twitch as her lips brushed my neck... and her fangs sank into my flesh.
A sharp, searing pain, like a red-hot needle. Then—a chilling, draining weakness. I felt my blood being pulled from me, every drop of life seeping through the torn skin. My head spun, breath faltering.
*What the hell is happening?!* raced through my mind.
"Congratulations," the Baroness said with genuine awe, as if witnessing the birth of a myth. "In one night, you've managed to impregnate an elf. You're a legend!"
*System, why is she drinking my blood?*
> Hint: The blood of males serves as the fertilizing agent. It carries the genetic material needed for final conception.
*Then what am I... releasing?*
> Hint: Concentrated energy.
The whole thing felt absurd—yet horribly fitting, like a fragment of some ancient, forgotten ritual. My body weakened, but... suddenly, another sensation bloomed.
It started as a faint tingle. Then a building heat. And finally—an explosion of pure bliss, so radiant and intense that my entire being quivered. This wasn't mere release. It was something transcendent, as if my soul ignited in light and surrendered to her.
I trembled. My ears rang. My fingertips went numb. But instead of fear—only complete immersion in ecstasy.
*So this is what they feel when they drink blood...* was my last coherent thought.
And before I could even try to name the sensation, everything faded.
Consciousness ripped away.
– – –
I woke to a raw, almost animalistic hunger gnawing at me. My stomach clenched painfully, like a void had taken root inside. Around me, nestled in a sea of soft pillows and entwined limbs, the girls slumbered peacefully. Their breaths were steady, deep, warm—filling the room like a silent lullaby.
I eased myself up carefully, not wanting to disturb any of these serene, bare forms. Silently, I retrieved a bottle of wine from my spatial storage and took the first swig. The alcohol burned gently down my throat, settling in my gut—a spark reigniting my fading strength.
*In this world, you can survive on booze alone... Every drunkard's dream,* I smirked inwardly.
The Baroness stirred, her eyes fluttering open. Her gaze, warm and languid, draped over me like a blanket. She yawned, stretching like a cat, and without a word, wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her chest against my back.
"Good morning, my king," she whispered, her voice like honey laced with venom—sweet, yet perilous.
I froze for a moment, my thoughts drifting back.
I wondered about my friends. Where were they now? Alive? Still themselves? Or had they given in, dissolving into some blissful realm like sugar in tea?
I stared at the ceiling, as if answers might etch themselves there.
*Don't you miss them?* a familiar, prickly, relentless voice echoed inside.
*They haven't even tried to reach out. If they're silent, they've made their choice. We shouldn't interfere,* I replied, eyeing the bottle's glassy neck.
*You were right. This world is dangerous. Endless pleasures can drown you forever. Indulgence isn't a reward—it's a trap. It wraps you gently, deceives you, blurs the line between reality and oblivion,* the inner voice murmured, softer now, as if wary of eavesdroppers.
I smiled faintly, tinged with bitterness, and whispered:
"The greatest enemy hides where you least expect to find it."
*Hey! Hey! Are you even listening?!* the voice suddenly yelled. *I'm you! You're me! We're like yin and yang, light and shadow! Do you get that without me, you'd just be a lump of flesh on these pillows?!*
I didn't respond. Just took another swig of wine. And quietly thought:
*Maybe that's exactly what I want?*
I stood, stretching with a satisfying crack of my spine, working out the kinks in my muscles. The last of the wine went down in a gulp—liquid warmth spreading through my veins, restoring vigor to my body and sharpness to my mind. I breathed deeper, and the world snapped into focus: light brighter, skin more sensitive, desires crystal clear.
My eyes traced the Baroness's curves, and a surge of longing rose from deep within, swelling, awakening. She sat at the edge of the bed, half-bent, slowly pulling on black stockings—her fingers gliding over the silky fabric encasing her slender legs. Every motion was wickedly beautiful—teasing, luxuriously slow, almost performative.
Her outfit was hardly clothing. More like a blatant provocation, a challenge and invitation rolled into one. It didn't conceal; it accentuated: her full, heavy chest with pert peaks barely veiled by lace. Her waist—slender. Her hips—a gateway to vice.