I yanked the sword free from the corpse and swung it through the air, a crimson rainbow blooming in its arc.
"...Well, what can I say? He was weaker than I expected."
I'd gone in expecting real skill from the head of a major dark world syndicate, facing him with full seriousness.
But the bastard hadn't landed a single strike before his head flew clean off.
I figured he wouldn't measure up to the Seven Stars, sure—but I didn't think he'd just flop over dead like that.
'Alright, time to go rescue Cecil.'
Now the only thing left was handling the reason I'd come here in the first place.
Maybe it was skipping dinner, but fatigue was starting to creep into my body.
Better wrap this up quick, head home, eat, and crash.
I sheathed the sword at my waist and ambled along like I was taking a casual evening stroll. Cecil's scent grew steadily stronger.
A ticklish sensation, like sniffing her skin up close.
By the time her aroma hit its peak, I was right behind the iron bars holding her.
"Master..."
Cecilia's voice called to me, brimming with longing and a touch of gloom.
No clue why, but her tone made my tongue twitch on reflex. A reply slipped out.
"Yeah? What's up?"
A moment of silence stretched between us.
Then she whipped around, shattering it instantly.
"M-Master? How did you get here...?"
"Followed your scent."
Cecilia's face flushed tomato-red in a heartbeat.
Ah, phrasing it as 'following her scent' landed a bit awkwardly.
"...Scent? What are you, some beastkin...?"
"Just got a keener nose than most folks."
Cecilia broke into a beaming smile, like whatever tickled her was hilarious—then a shadow crossed her face as something dawned on her.
"Th-then what about the thugs here...!?"
Her words rang clear with worry for me.
I snorted and hoisted up the meaty lump in my hand.
"Uh, no way..."
"Bang on what you're thinking."
I'd fought him seriously earlier, hacking him to bits beyond facial recognition—but an elf's senses ought to clue her in.
That this shapeless hunk was the head honcho's noggin.
"H-how...?"
"Just a tad better with a blade than average."
"L-lies."
I wasn't lying.
Just skipping the part where I was way beyond 'a tad' and used to be a Sword Saint.
No sense spilling that and scaring her off.
"...Aren't you hungry?"
"Oh."
I lobbed a casual question at Cecilia, who'd been staring blankly at me.
Finally snapping to, her pupils dilated wide.
"I'm starving. Let's head home. Whip up some dinner."
"Y-yes sir!!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Eating the meat Cecilia cooked felt profoundly weird after personally carving up those guys earlier.
Of course, she was an ace cook, so it tasted great—but that was a whole separate issue.
"...By the way, they didn't rough you up back there, right?"
"Mm, yeah. Nothing happened."
As we shared dinner, I slowly chipped away at the anxiety gnawing at Cecilia's heart.
While chewing and savoring a mouthful of meat, a brilliant idea hit me.
"Cecilia. Care for a drink?"
"...Pardon?"
"Grabbed some on my quick detour earlier. Booze."
The old guy who'd sold me the sword was a total lush, so I'd stocked up extra on impulse.
Who knew it'd come in handy again? I'd regretted the splurge before, but now it felt like a steal.
"Sure... I'll fetch the glasses!!"
Thrilled at the prospect of drinks, Cecilia flashed an even brighter grin and bolted to the kitchen.
Looked like elves really did love their liquor on par with dwarves.
'Dragon Hunt, ten-year vintage. This'll be good.'
Even for me—a booze enthusiast pre-possession—this had me hyped.
Liquor for dragon slaying? Peak romance.
"Master... don't tell me this is Dragon Hunt...?"
I took the glass from Cecilia and fished the small bottle from my pocket. She couldn't hide her excitement.
Her face reddened, breath quickened—a far cry from her kidnapping terror.
"Yep. Dragon Hunt."
"The fierce brew that gets even dragons drunk... hehe."
The mood ripened as today's ordeal faded from her mind; she let out a silly giggle.
Though she clamped her mouth shut the instant our eyes met.
*Pour*
Cecilia filled the glasses to the brim.
Ice and liquor mingled, radiating crisp refreshment just from the sight.
"...Know any tricks to make booze taste even better, by chance?"
She poured her own glass and tilted her head at me with a sly smile.
Cuteness and allure lethal enough for a 90% fatality rate.
Though honestly, I zeroed in more on the booze hack.
"A tastier twist...?"
"Yep! You humans might not know, but us elves always mix this in when we drink!"
She unveiled a small vial of pink liquid from her bosom.
Unfamiliar stuff, never seen even in-game.
But it screamed 'perfect booze mixer' at first glance.
"...Hit me then, Cecil."
"Hehe. Right away!"
She dumped the pink liquid straight into my brimming glass.
My clear drink gradually flushed pink, taking on an uncanny peachy allure.
'Looks tasty.'
New booze, fresh twist—my pulse quickened already.
"Shall we cheers?"
"Cheers...?"
"Custom from my old stomping grounds. Clink glasses before sipping."
"Ooh! Cheers it is!"
We faced each other with smiles and clinked.
The crisp chime of glass rang out as we tossed back the drinks.
A throat-searing blaze, dizzying punch from one glass.
Put bluntly, sky-high alcohol kick.
That night, I learned firsthand this elixir was root-and-branch different from any swill I'd chugged before.
Not that I finished the glass—I blacked out cold midway.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'Is he trying to comfort me...?'
The thought struck Cecilia as she headed to the kitchen for Yuri's and her glasses.
Today, she'd been kidnapped—nearly sold off.
Just like the day she'd first fallen into slavery.
Even rescued by her master Yuri, she'd still felt the shock, the anxiety, the terror—no denying it.
"...What a kind soul."
Her savior before her master.
A slave teetering on the brink of horrors, yet he'd shelled out 10,000 gold for her—home, food, the works.
And today too: snatched by the capital's thugs, resale imminent, but he'd stormed in solo to save her.
Now even offering drinks to mend her wounds from it all.
To Cecilia, he seemed genuinely gentle and caring.
The rarest sort in her lifetime.
From her slave plight to his lavish kindness as master.
These special straits and sentiments fusing, interacting right now.
Yuri's favorability in her heart was primed to shatter the ceiling.
'Someday, he'll take a proper wife, won't he...?'
The notion bubbled up.
A man with 10,000-gold wealth and solo-crime-org-smashing might.
Handsome to boot, personality kind and gentle without flaw.
The ultimate marriage market prize.
Him being single would be the real shocker.
'...While I'm just a slave.'
No matter her killer looks and figure, her spirit blessings.
She was merely Yuri's slave in the end.
In other words, she couldn't vie for an equal seat beside him like other women.
'But... right now?'
The idea flickered.
No rivals in sight, and Yuri fussing over her.
If she seized the drunken moment to forge a fait accompli, main wife might be off-table—but concubine status viable later?
*Gulp.*
Cecilia swallowed reflexively, opening the cupboard to retrieve the stashed herb bundle.
For crafting an elven village specialty elixir.
[Fruits of the Couple]
A secret brew from the elf village for couples hit by ennui.
Pink potion that surges the drinker's lust, igniting feverish craving for the nearest soul.
Cecilia poured it into Yuri's glass without a flicker of hesitation.
*Pour.*
The instant Yuri's glass began tinting pink.