Chapter 46
Written by Bayzo Albion
And just like that, my little shopping escapade was over. I strolled through the quiet streets, oddly content, savoring the rare feeling of being human instead of a blood-stained adventurer.
"Mission accomplished," I said, stretching lazily. "But walking all the way back sounds exhausting…"
The knights tensed, already sensing trouble.
I flashed them a wolfish grin. "Relax. I've got a better idea."
They exchanged wary looks—because the last time I said that, things didn't end well.
I casually pulled out a wooden knife, twirling it between my fingers before plunging it swiftly into my own throat with a precise, almost elegant motion. A crunch, a sharp gasp—and my body crumpled lifelessly onto the dusty cobblestones. In an instant, it began to dissolve, fading into nothingness as if it had never been.
For those who haven't pieced it together yet: I killed myself.
Not out of despair or defeat, but because this form was merely a vessel—a temporary shell. Shattering it freed my essence to return to my true self. It wasn't weakness; it was strategy, a reclaiming of my core being from the fragile confines of flesh.
"A-ha-ha-ha!" The golden knight burst into laughter, the sound booming through the empty streets like thunder. He wiped a tear from his eye and shook his head. "I kept thinking he was wearing us down for a surprise attack! From the moment we met him, I haven't slept a wink! And this... this guy was just toying with us! Damn it, what a waste of time!"
The knights collapsed onto the ground in unison, relief washing over them as they shed the tension of the past hours—all except one, the one in the ragged armor.
"Aaaah... constant vigilance is exhausting," groaned an elite knight, yanking off his helmet to reveal a sweat-drenched face and bloodshot eyes.
"Be glad you're alive," the commander snapped, his voice like grinding gravel, cold and unyielding.
"Let us vent a little, Captain!" one of the younger ones shot back, peeling off his gloves.
"Save your complaints for your wives," he retorted without a glance.
A sly-eyed young knight broke the silence. "You're a master of deception and disguise, Captain Smerto. But that... monster... outdid you. He's unreadable. Not quite monster, not quite human."
"But what is he, then?" another asked, staring at the empty spot where my body had vanished, dust still swirling lazily in the air.
Smerto lifted his gaze slowly, scrutinizing the settling particles as if they held secrets. "That... I don't know," he admitted finally, a rare hint of uncertainty threading through his words. "And I hope I never find out."
– – –
"I made it—and not a speck of dust on me from the road. Home sweet home..." I surveyed the familiar walls upon my return. "Didn't fancy hiking those kilometers, so I offed myself. Quickest teleport back to the main body." I spread my hands in explanation to my primary self.
He arched an eyebrow. "So... what's next?"
"You're asking me? Has your brain sprung a leak or something?" I shot back mentally, a smirk tugging at my thoughts.
"I just... don't know where to start," he admitted, shrugging helplessly. For the first time in ages, I saw vulnerability in him—the shadow he usually buried under layers of bravado.
"Just do what needs doing," I urged, giving him a mental shove like a firm grip on the shoulders. "The rest will fall into place. Haven't we always lived that way? Acting first, thinking later?"
He paused, weighing my words, then his eyes cleared, reigniting with that stubborn spark that had propelled us through countless dead ends.
"You're right," he nodded. "Let's start small... and see where it leads."
"I got everything we needed. Now the place won't feel so empty. The only thing I couldn't get was that adult furniture they keep advertising on TV," he said, tone dripping with regret, as if he'd missed out on a priceless treasure.
"And why do we need that?" I raised a skeptical brow. "We've got a comfy love seat right here. What more could you want?"
"Intimacy is a race," he said with that maddeningly smug tone. "It's all about comfort, speed, and—let's call it—optimal performance. Less friction, more bliss."
I snorted. "You know, your existence is pretty convenient for me. I can dump all the sins and shame on you and come out spotless in society's eyes."
He grinned, but a flicker in his eyes made me wonder if this setup might backfire on me someday.
"So, we're skipping the branded stuff?" I pressed, ready to drop it.
"Who said we can't build it ourselves?" His voice brimmed with risky inspiration.
"Ourselves?" I echoed, glancing around the room. "You realize we're not carpenters, right? Your only building skill is not braining yourself with a hammer."
"Hammers are overrated," he waved off. "We've got magic, imagination, and... field-tested experience."
I could already picture it: living vines for flexible supports, enchanted cushions that shifted on command, embedded crystals for warming spells that would make even celestial beings blush. The air hummed with potential, a mix of excitement and trepidation.
"If the Forest Queen doesn't smite us for defiling 'sacred furniture' in the process, then... fine," I sighed. "But no spells that could lop off anything vital."
"Promise," he smirked. "Well... mostly."
A couple of hours later, we were knee-deep in lumber, glowing mana stones, and curiously curved components, crafting what might be the weirdest invention this paradise had ever seen.
"Listen up," he rattled on enthusiastically. "This isn't just a chair. It's your personal launchpad to ecstasy. Soft, grippy fabric—no slipping, no struggling, just pure enjoyment. The shape? Perfect curve for deeper dives than any bed could offer. Your G-spot will thank you before you can blink. Positions? Hundreds—you'll tire out before it does. Comes with straps, handles, toys—all built-in. Even an inflation pump for... liftoff. Holds up to 250 kilos—you, a partner, or a trio if luck's on your side. Gift it to yourself, her, them—doesn't matter. You'll both end up breathless like marathon runners. Forget the couch. Forget the bed. This chair is your new paradise." He wrapped up his spiel with a flourish.
We were nearly done—just one last bent crossbar to secure—when a shadow glided across the wall. The Forest Queen entered silently, her presence filling the room like a cool breeze through ancient trees.
She scanned our... masterpiece slowly, lingering on every detail: the supple vines twisting into ergonomic forms, cushions stitched with glowing runes, mana stones pulsing with a soft, inviting light.
"Intriguing..." Her voice was silk over steel, smooth yet edged. "Is this... a throne?"
"Uh..." I scratched the back of my head, shooting a glance at my other self. "Sort of."
She approached leisurely, her fingers tracing an arched support, sending a subtle tremor through the structure.
"You're either crafting the greatest bed in history or the most perverse torture device," she observed with a faint smile. "And honestly... I'm not sure which appeals to me more."
"Tell her it's multifunctional!" my double prompted.
"Multifunctional," I blurted.
She laughed softly, almost inaudibly, then turned and departed without another word, leaving behind the scent of wild herbs and the certainty that she'd return—and not alone.
"Well," I sighed. "Looks like company's coming."
My previous life burned with the infernal flames of routine and disillusionment. Each day added another drop of pitch to the blaze, fueling the heat until it was unbearable. The only respite in that hell was escape: into pixelated worlds where I could be anyone; onto the pages of books where problems had neat resolutions; into the frames of others' stories, where life pulsed with vibrancy and purpose. I wasn't living—I was smothering my own flames with borrowed dreams.
I fled into those foreign tales like bunkers, hunkering down to weather the bombardment of my own destiny.
And now, here I am...
"I'm alive," I said aloud, savoring the words like a rare vintage wine, letting their richness linger on my tongue.
Four stunning women smiled in unison, their voices a harmonious chorus: "Good morning, Master."
"Yes... not just good," I replied, feeling a warmth spread through my body like sunlight breaking through clouds. "It's warm, like the first ray after a storm, and sweet as ripe wild strawberries."
In my mind, bolder thoughts swirled: *What's better—to burn with passion for one, or to cradle the hearts of many in your palms?*
The Forest Queen, perched nearby, watched me with those piercing eyes that seemed to delve straight into my soul. She broke the silence: "What occupies the thoughts of our quiet Master?"