Charlotte froze the moment she realized Eden had three slaves just for those kinds of things.
And looking at Belle—blushing, fidgeting, innocent-as-a-puppy Belle—made her blood boil.
Eden, you demon woman. How could you do that to this adorable boy?
This is straight-up corruption of a minor!
Charlotte cursed Eden with all the righteous fury of a proper Hawthorne heiress.
Belle lifted his gaze to her, ears drooping, tail limp.
"Hey… don't sit on the floor like that," Charlotte sighed.
"Come sit on this chair."
"Yes, Milady."
Belle obeyed, sitting like a well-trained golden retriever.
"Good. Now, tell me about this world."
"Eh?" Belle blinked.
"I mean… I can't remember anything about it."
Charlotte decided not to tell Belle the truth—that she wasn't Eden.
She had no idea what had happened to the real Eden, or whether she was even still alive. But for now, borrowing Eden's identity felt like the easiest way to survive in this unfamiliar world.
She was already more than fifty percent certain that this wasn't a dream at all.
Everything felt far too vivid—too sharp.
The air.
The sounds.
The pain.
Even the weight of her own body.
None of it felt like a dream.
This wasn't something her mind had imagined.
It felt more like she had crossed into another world.
Belle hesitated, then nodded and explained.
This was the country of Geville.
Eden lived in the capital, Trabert, as a treasure hunter—same as Noah and Hugo.
She had brought Belle to Barracuda Island to explore ruins submerged beneath the sea.
Huh.
Not a saintess.
Not a villainess.
Not a baron's daughter.
Not a duchess.
A treasure hunter.
With… a harem.
This is literally a reverse isekai route.
Charlotte processed the information—
Then froze as another horrifying thought struck her.
Wait.
What if Eden is in my world? Wearing my face? Ruining my reputation?!
The elegant, perfect Charlotte Hawthorne replaced by a man-eating seductress?
Absolutely not.
Her soul left her body for a full two seconds.
"Milady?" Belle tilted his head, ears twitching.
"Your face looks very tense… Should I give you a massage?"
"A massage? …Actually—yes."
Charlotte was a spa addict.
She'd never had a massage from a boy before, but…
She did have a harem in this world now.
And Belle was adorable.
No harm in trying, right?
She lay down on her stomach.
"Yes, Milady!" Belle brightened.
He sat beside her on the bed and began with her shoulders—firm, smooth, skilled.
"Mmm… you're good at this…" Charlotte murmured, melting.
Different from Noah's hands.
Belle's were warm.
Soft.
Precise.
He worked down her back with practiced ease.
She almost drifted off to sleep…
Until his hands reached her hips.
"—Hrk!"
Charlotte snapped awake.
"B-Belle, not there!"
"Why not?" Belle asked.
"I massage here all the time."
That look.
That sweet, clueless, angelic look.
Charlotte's moral compass fractured.
"O-okay… do it like you normally do," she muttered.
What am I doing?
This is fine… probably…?
I'm just curious!
He's a child—no he's not, he's legal… probably? Focus!
Belle moved to her hips.
Then her thighs.
The inner thighs.
Charlotte ascended to another plane.
Her face burned.
Her pulse skyrocketed.
Her hands crushed the pillow like a stress ball.
OH GOD.
NOT THERE.
NOT LIKE THIS.
And then—
Wait… I'm not wearing underwear.
"Belle—stop—! Move! Lower legs! Ankles! Knees! ANYTHING!"
"Why, Milady?"
"Just—don't ask! Just do it!"
Charlotte screamed.
Belle ignored the panic.
He settled on her knees and continued massaging her thighs with unwavering focus.
"Stop—! I said stop!"
"I apologize, Milady, but these muscles are extremely tense. I need to loosen them first."
Charlotte was speechless.
Between Belle's warm hands, his weight on her knees, and her inability to escape—
She was seconds away from losing her sanity.
Calm down, Charlotte Hawthorne.
You are NOT Eden the man-eater.
He's young! He's innocent!
He's basically a puppy with abs!
Don't fall for it—don't fall for it—DON'T—
She tried thinking about the man in her dreams.
The elegant, faceless beauty she had fallen in love with as a child.
His voice.
His presence.
His mystery.
Anything to distract her.
Belle finished and moved on to her feet.
"No—wait—my feet—!"
"We must, Milady. That area holds the most tension."
Belle would not be stopped.
Charlotte suffered.
After what felt like thirty years, Belle finished.
She sat up, breathless, sweat at her hairline.
Belle beamed.
"Now that the massage is finished… shall I continue serving you like usual?"
Before she could respond—
Belle straddled her, pushing her onto her back.
Faces inches apart.
His hand slid behind her head, pulling her closer.
Charlotte's soul left her body again.