(WARNING! THIS CHAPTER GETS VERY DARK! SO PLEASE SKIP THIS IF YOU DON'T LIKE TORTURE OR SUCH THINGS!
YOU MAY ALSO HATE REINA AFTER THIS CHAP(NOT FOR THE REASON YOU MIGHT THINK)
SECOND, IF YOU READ THIS, THEN JUST TRUST ME. I WON'T BETRAY YOUR TRUST)
...
{3rd Pov}
It was a quiet and peaceful day in the village.
This particular settlement was one of the many villages spread across the country of Lugunica, and it held some importance because it happened to be the closest village to the royal capital of Lugunica.
The population of the village was not small; in fact, it had grown to more than a thousand people over the years.
The villagers were engaged in various kinds of work, such as farming crops, raising livestock, working in the meat industry, and taking up other small jobs that kept the community alive and running.
The village was not completely defenseless either.
Soldiers could be seen patrolling through the streets and along the outskirts on a regular basis.
Their presence ensured that the people lived without fear of bandits or monsters.
Because of this, one could easily say that the place looked like an ordinary and peaceful medieval village—except for the fact that it existed in a world that was not round but flat, and in this world, the existence of magic was an undeniable reality.
Among the many villagers living there was a young man named John.
He was known as a reliable and capable soldier, and his reputation had spread well beyond the village itself.
John was also an ambitious man, currently aiming for something greater: he was training and preparing himself for the upcoming Royal Knight Selection, a chance to prove his worth and possibly earn a place among the kingdom's elite knights.
Under normal circumstances, John's daily life was simple and routine.
He would spend most of his days practicing his combat skills, sharpening his techniques, and taking part in his duties of patrolling the village.
However, in the past few months, his usual routine had changed quite a lot, and he now found himself living each day a little differently.
The reason for this sudden change was not something complicated. In fact, it could be described as quite simple.
The village had recently welcomed a new addition, and ever since then, things had not been the same for John.
And so, just like he did every morning, John picked up an empty basket, held it firmly in his hands, and started walking toward that place.
"Hey, John! You're heading over there again, aren't you?" A familiar voice called out, followed by a firm pat on the back.
It was Baston, a man with short blonde hair, sun-tanned skin, and a confident grin plastered on his face.
Unlike John, Baston had already earned a place among the Royal Knights.
Within the village, he was regarded as one of the most reliable and respected figures, both admired for his strength and envied for his achievements.
"Man, buying flowers every single day? Don't try to deny it—she's already captured your heart, hasn't she?" Baston teased, smirking mischievously as he gave John a knowing look.
John's face immediately turned red, his composure breaking.
"I-It's nothing like that!" he stammered, trying to argue back, but his expression only betrayed him further.
His obvious embarrassment made Baston's smirk widen.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Baston gave an exaggerated nod, clearly unconvinced.
"Anyway, since you're already heading there, why don't I tag along? I could use some flowers myself, so how about we both go together?"
Seeing no problem with the suggestion, John gave a small nod. "Alright, I don't mind."
The two of them began walking side by side, chatting idly as they made their way toward the flower seller's spot.
It wasn't long before they arrived, only to notice that several people had already gathered there ahead of them.
"Looks like she hasn't started selling yet," Baston commented casually as his sharp eyes scanned the small crowd.
John, however, frowned slightly as he glanced at the group of waiting customers.
There were five people in total. Four of them were men, and only one was a woman.
To John, the reason behind this lopsided gathering was obvious and didn't sit well with him at all.
It wasn't that these men suddenly discovered a deep love for flowers.
No, that wasn't the case in the slightest.
They were clearly there for one reason only: they were infatuated with the flower seller herself.
And then, as if on cue, the person they had been waiting for finally appeared.
She stepped out from the back, drawing every pair of eyes toward her.
Her long, flowing red hair caught the morning light, and her face was so strikingly beautiful that it almost seemed unreal.
To top it off, her bright blue eyes sparkled vividly, gleaming like polished gemstones and making it impossible for anyone to look away.
If it weren't for the fact that she wore clothing which covered most of her body, she would have looked even more appealing than she already did.
Her figure was still noticeable, but if she had chosen to wear something less modest, the sight alone might have been enough to make nearly every man there lose control of themselves.
"Lady Reina is here!" one of the men in the crowd shouted the moment she appeared, and as soon as the words left his mouth, the atmosphere instantly shifted.
The people waiting, who had been standing rather quietly, suddenly grew excited, their eyes shining with anticipation.
John, who stood among them, couldn't hide his reaction either.
His expression softened, and his gaze turned slightly dreamy.
He was looking at her with the face of someone hopelessly smitten.
It wasn't a secret to himself anymore—he had a massive crush on her, and it showed.
Reina, on her part, offered a gentle smile that looked warm and kind.
She raised her hand and gave a small wave before speaking to the gathered customers.
"Everyone, please wait a moment. I need to water the flowers first. After that, you can buy the ones I've already picked."
Nobody dared to complain.
Nobody even thought about rushing her.
Instead, they all nodded or stood patiently in place as if her words were an unshakable command.
John, meanwhile, leaned forward slightly, straining his ears so he wouldn't miss a single sound that came from her direction.
As she went about watering the flowers, she started humming to herself.
It wasn't exactly a normal tune.
In fact, it sounded a little odd because the lyrics didn't seem to follow any real pattern.
They were mostly repetitions of certain words.
More often than not, John could clearly make out the word "Subaru" being repeated from her lips, which was strange to hear, but in his mind, it didn't matter in the slightest.
For someone like him, a man completely enchanted by her, every sound of her voice was a gift.
Whether it was humming nonsense or saying something trivial, her voice was divine to his ears.
Before long, Reina finished watering the flowers and turned back to her eager customers.
She began selling the flowers one by one.
What stood out immediately was that the people were paying higher than the usual market price, far more than what the flowers were actually worth.
Reina accepted the payments without complaint, offering each buyer a simple "thank you" in return.
Yet that short phrase alone seemed to be more valuable than the flowers themselves.
One of the buyers left the stall with a huge grin on his face, his thoughts clear as day: 'Damn it! Just hearing her thank me—it was worth every coin!'
There was no denying the truth.
Every single one of them was hopelessly smitten.
In short, all of them were nothing more than simps.
When John's turn finally came, he stepped forward a little too quickly, his nerves obvious.
Trying to keep his voice steady, he asked, "Miss Reina, may I ask… which flowers do you suggest I should buy for a girl?"
His face remained outwardly stoic, his expression stiff as if he was trying very hard to appear calm and collected.
Yet, beneath that mask, his heart was racing wildly. He forced himself not to blush, but the effort was visible in the way his jaw tightened.
The moment he looked at her directly, his chest tightened and his heart skipped a beat.
Reina was without question the most beautiful maiden in the entire village.
She had only settled down here a few months ago, and since then she had taken up the role of a florist.
It was a simple occupation, but because she was the one doing it, it had turned into something remarkable.
Ordinarily, people in the village would never think of wasting their hard-earned money on flowers.
Commoners valued every coin, and luxuries like bouquets were usually the last thing anyone would consider buying.
Yet Reina's presence changed all of that completely.
Her beauty was so overwhelming that it drew customers regardless of gender.
Both men and women came to her stall regularly.
The men were drawn in by their infatuation, and the women were curious, envious, or simply fascinated by her charm.
Many villagers, both openly and secretly, often imagined what she would look like in noble clothing instead of her plain attire.
They pictured her standing tall in an elegant dress, a cold expression on her flawless face, commanding authority with a single glance.
In their minds, she would fit the image of a majestic queen far better than any noblewoman they had ever seen or heard of.
Reina, with a small, pleasant smile on her lips, answered John's question without hesitation. "I would prefer this one," she said softly, pointing to a particular flower.
John didn't even bother to examine it properly.
The second she made her suggestion, he nodded and purchased the flowers immediately, paying a premium price without a second thought.
For him, her word was absolute.
Standing beside the stall, a young girl happened to watch this exchange.
As she looked closely at the flowers John had just bought, her eyebrow twitched in disbelief.
'Aren't these the most common flowers in the entire region?' she thought irritably.
To her, they were nothing special at all, certainly not worth the amount John had just paid.
Her eyes then shifted toward Reina, who had not only made a quick and easy profit but had also received admiration and praise from those watching.
The girl's expression darkened slightly. What she felt was unmistakable—jealousy.
She simply couldn't understand it.
Why was Reina so beautiful?
Why did everything she did attract attention so effortlessly?
To the girl, Reina's appearance didn't resemble a normal commoner in the slightest.
Her face and presence carried an elegance that seemed out of place in a small village like this.
If it weren't for the fact that Reina always wore conservative, modest, and even cheap-looking clothes, the girl would have sworn that she was no ordinary villager at all.
In her mind, Reina could easily have been a princess disguised as a commoner, hiding her true identity while blending in with the crowd.
By this point, the girl was smart enough to realize that openly badmouthing Reina was something that could never end well.
In fact, it would be the fastest way to ruin her own life.
The men of the village practically worshipped Reina, and if anyone dared to insult her, they would immediately band together to crush that person's reputation and livelihood.
If the offender happened to be a man, he would be beaten down without mercy.
If it happened to be a woman, she would be treated like trash, branded as a jealous hag or a bitter bitch, and soon after, vile rumors about her would spread throughout the entire village.
Everyone would mock her behind her back, and her social standing would collapse instantly.
Something like this had already happened before, and it wasn't just a story.
The victim had been none other than this girl's closest friend.
That experience alone was enough of a warning.
Because of that, the girl swallowed her bitterness in silence, keeping her jealousy hidden behind clenched teeth and a stiff smile.
But as she stood there, quietly staring at Reina with resentment burning inside her chest, she suddenly felt a firm hand grab her from behind.
The sudden sensation made her eyes widen, and a faint blush appeared across her cheeks.
She glanced back in alarm only to see the culprit—Baston, the blonde-haired knight, grinning shamelessly.
His hand was openly squeezing and groping her ass, kneading it as if he owned it, all in broad daylight where anyone could turn their head and see.
"H-Hey, Baston, what are you doing?! Everyone will notice us!" she hissed in a low voice, her tone filled with panic.
Her heart raced as she continued, "And if my husband finds out… he'll kill us both!"
But Baston wasn't the least bit bothered.
Instead, his grin only grew wider as he applied more pressure to her soft flesh.
"Even if that pathetic cuck finds out, so what?" he whispered with a mocking chuckle.
"The son he treasures so much, the boy he thinks is his pride and joy—that kid is actually mine. Just like you. Both of you belong to me."
The words should have been infuriating, but instead of snapping at him, the woman's face turned even redder, her breath catching in her throat.
She didn't push him away. Rather than anger, a deep blush lingered on her cheeks, betraying the shameful emotions swirling inside her.
Baston noticed movement nearby and quickly pulled his hand away, creating distance between them before anyone turned their head in suspicion.
His expression returned to its usual composed look, but the moment his gaze shifted back toward Reina, his grin resurfaced.
His tongue darted across his lips in a slow, lustful lick.
Baston carried a dark secret that few truly knew.
Behind the mask of the proud Royal Knight, he harbored a twisted fetish—he loved nothing more than cuckolding other men.
The thrill of taking what belonged to others, of sleeping with married women and making their husbands into fools, was his greatest pleasure.
Armed with his handsome face, his authoritative position as a Royal Knight, and his shameless confidence, Baston had seduced more women than he could count.
He was proud of his "tool," a length of six inches that he believed was more than enough to satisfy anyone.
And in an age where even knowing more than five different sexual positions was considered rare and exotic, Baston's bed skills placed him far above the rest.
Through a combination of his natural charm, his status, and his lust-driven persistence, he had managed to find his way into the beds—and between the legs—of countless women.
And judging by the smirk still playing across his lips, he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.
The result of Baston's secret lifestyle was staggering.
By now, nearly one-fourth of the women in the village had already shared his bed at least once.
Some of them had betrayed their husbands or lovers by meeting him in secret repeatedly, enjoying his company more than their actual partners.
Others had gone even further, carrying his child in their wombs while letting another man believe the baby was his own.
To Baston, every one of those affairs brought him nothing but satisfaction and pride. It wasn't only about the pleasure of sex.
It was about the sense of superiority he felt whenever he managed to sleep with women who belonged to other men.
Taking someone else's wife or lover and claiming her for himself gave him an intoxicating thrill.
The idea of other men raising children that were actually his filled him with twisted amusement.
In his mind, he was winning in a game that nobody else even realized they were playing.
Now, however, his ambitions had shifted to a new target, one unlike any other he had pursued before.
That target was none other than Reina.
She wasn't just another attractive woman—she was the most breathtakingly beautiful and majestic woman he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life.
At first, Baston hadn't dared to make a move on her.
The way she carried herself, her refined beauty, and her aura of elegance had convinced him that she might be a noblewoman hiding her true identity.
For that reason, he had deliberately kept his distance and instead began quietly investigating her past.
If she truly had noble blood, there would be records, connections, or at least some whispers about her origin.
But his search had turned up absolutely nothing.
No history, no connections, no ties to either the nobility or even the underworld.
The conclusion was clear—Reina was a true commoner.
She was either someone who had come from an isolated rural place where records didn't matter, or perhaps at worst, a refugee who had wandered into the kingdom with nothing.
One way or another, there was no proof of noble lineage. And that meant she was within his reach.
"She's the only woman who actually qualifies to become my wife," Baston muttered under his breath, smirking as his eyes shifted to John, who at that moment looked lost in thought, clearly daydreaming about Reina like a fool.
Just the thought of one day bending Reina to his will, of taking her in front of John and shattering his friend's fantasies, sent shivers down Baston's spine.
The sheer anticipation excited him beyond control.
'Damn it… I have to make her mine. I'll make her my bitch no matter what it takes,' he thought to himself, his smirk widening as he imagined the future.
In truth, he had already set a plan into motion.
He had obtained sedated alcohol, enough to get Reina drunk beyond resistance.
His intention was simple: once she was intoxicated, he would have his way with her.
After that, he would ruin her pristine reputation, dragging her image through the dirt so that she would no longer be able to stand tall before the village.
And then, when she had no choice but to cling to someone for survival, he would present himself as her only savior.
Step by step, he would force her into dependence, breaking her down until she had no option but to accept him.
Finally, he would marry her, not out of love, but as the ultimate act of conquest.
After putting on a polite face and buying a few flowers from Reina, Baston didn't waste time.
He left with the married woman he had been fooling around with and once again slept with her, claiming her body as if she already belonged to him.
He did so with his usual arrogance, finishing inside her without hesitation, as though marking her as his possession.
"Haha, at this rate, you'll end up giving birth to a second child of mine," Baston smirked, his hand gripping her ass firmly as if to remind her of her place.
The woman flushed red, half embarrassed and half pleased. "I would rather carry your children than that pathetic man's," she confessed bitterly, speaking of her husband.
"He works in the fields all day long, sweating like a fool, and yet he can't even afford to buy me a single piece of jewelry."
Her tone was filled with disdain, her loyalty to her husband long gone.
She paused for a moment, then looked at Baston with a curious glint in her eye. "Also… I've noticed the way you look at that girl. Will you make her yours as well?"
Baston exhaled in annoyance, almost as if it was obvious. "Of course. I'm going to ruin her reputation so thoroughly that the entire village will treat her like a slut. She won't even be able to hold her head high when I'm done with her."
The woman's lips curled into an evil smile, and she leaned forward to kiss him deeply.
"Fufu, I'll be waiting for that day. That bitch deserves it, always flaunting her good looks and overcharging everyone with that fake innocent smile."
While this exchange was happening, John was elsewhere, nervously preparing to propose to Reina. Baston, always wearing the mask of a helpful friend, decided to exploit this opportunity.
Playing the role of the supportive comrade, he advised John to take things slowly, to build trust with Reina little by little.
At the same time, Baston was already weaving his own scheme in the background.
He suggested organizing a small party as a way to get closer to her.
To avoid suspicion, he invited several of the women he had already seduced, along with a few other friends, so it looked like nothing more than a harmless gathering.
The most critical part of the plan was choosing the location: he proposed that the event should be held at Reina's own home.
That way, Reina would feel pressured to accept.
Rejecting the idea would make her seem cold or unfriendly, and Baston knew very well that she didn't want to damage her relationship with the villagers.
Predictably, Reina reluctantly agreed.
The party went as expected.
A feast was prepared, with meat as the centerpiece of the dishes and alcohol flowing generously among the guests.
People laughed, drank, and enjoyed themselves until late at night.
Eventually, one by one, everyone left the house.
To any outside observer, it looked like nothing more than a successful social gathering.
But Baston's true plan hadn't even started yet.
Later that night, after everyone had gone, he quietly returned to Reina's home.
When he stepped inside, he found exactly what he had hoped for: Reina lying unconscious, completely blacked out.
A wide grin stretched across his face. "That sedative was worth every coin," he muttered to himself.
Earlier, he had discreetly slipped a slow-acting drug into Reina's alcohol.
It had been subtle, taking hours to fully take effect, which was why she had lasted until the end of the party before collapsing.
To Baston, everything was proceeding exactly as he intended.
His plan to make Reina his was simple and cruel.
First, he would strip her of her innocence, take what she valued most while she was defenseless.
Baston's plan didn't end with simply drugging Reina and claiming her for himself. No, he had thought much further ahead.
Once he had taken the first step, he intended to slowly increase the dosage of the sedative, making sure she was never fully in control of herself whenever he came to her.
Over time, he would bring in some of his trusted "friends," letting them have their share of her body as well.
Those men, who also held power and status as Royal Knights or soldiers, would then be able to use that knowledge to threaten her into silence.
The cycle would repeat: more visits, more pressure, and more shame.
Soon, word would inevitably spread throughout the village.
People would notice how frequently members of the Royal Knights visited Reina's home and how long they stayed behind closed doors.
Whispers would start. Rumors would take root.
Before long, the village that once admired her would begin to look at her differently.
They would no longer see her as a beautiful florist or a kind young woman.
Instead, they would sneer and call her a slut, a woman who willingly entertained multiple men, allowing them to use her body for hours on end.
Her reputation would be dragged through the mud, reduced to nothing.
And once she was broken, once she was treated as nothing more than a whore by everyone around her, Baston would step in.
He would play the role of the noble savior, pretending to be the only man willing to "forgive" her and give her a place by his side.
In that moment, marrying him would look like her only chance at salvation.
It was a disgusting tactic, cruel and manipulative, but Baston didn't view it that way. In his eyes, there was nothing wrong with it.
To him, Reina wasn't some sacred maiden deserving respect or kindness.
No, she was just another woman, a slut in the making.
A beautiful slut, yes, perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen, but still a bitch nonetheless.
In Baston's twisted mind, her only true purpose was simple: to be used by him, to be fucked whenever he pleased, and to serve as a source of his pleasure and pride.
That was all she was good for.
A grin spread across his face as he thought about what he was about to do.
His hands moved slowly, deliberately, as he began removing his clothes, savoring the moment.
His breathing grew heavier with anticipation, his eyes fixed on the unconscious woman before him.
And then, as the silence of the room was broken, the night descended into muffled cries.
…
The very next day, the same jealous girl came back to the flower stand as usual.
However, what she saw surprised her.
Reina was standing there looking completely fine, her usual gentle smile on her face as she went about selling flowers.
Baston, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.
At first, the girl didn't think too deeply about it.
She simply assumed it was part of his plan. 'Just wait, you bitch,' she thought to herself bitterly, her lips curling slightly.
'Once Baston finally breaks you and turns you into a slut, you'll realize your place soon enough.'
But then days passed, and Baston never showed up again.
Not only did he fail to appear at the flower stand, but he didn't return to his usual duties or even make his presence known in the village.
It was almost as if he had completely vanished into thin air.
This sudden disappearance unsettled more than a few people.
Many of the women who had secretly been involved with him began to meet in private, whispering to one another about what might have happened.
They were careful to hide their meetings, but their fear was evident.
Each one had thought maybe the others knew something, but when they compared what little information they had, the truth became clear.
No one knew anything.
The only detail they could piece together was that Baston's last known target had been Reina.
And after that? He had simply gone missing without a trace.
Even John, who had no idea of Baston's darker side, began to grow worried for his friend.
Baston was not only a fellow soldier but also someone John looked up to as a senior and a role model.
His sudden disappearance made no sense.
Meanwhile, the whispers among the women slowly spread, evolving into a rumor that Baston had last been seen entering Reina's house on the night of the party.
Although John deeply trusted Reina and didn't want to doubt her, he couldn't ignore the possibility that something had happened.
He felt conflicted.
On one hand, he didn't want to make Reina feel as though he was accusing her of wrongdoing.
On the other hand, Baston's disappearance weighed heavily on him, and as a soldier, he felt obligated to investigate.
In the end, John decided to act discreetly.
He came up with a plan to search Reina's home in secret, choosing a time when she wouldn't be there.
That way, he wouldn't risk offending her if it turned out nothing was wrong.
The opportunity finally presented itself when John saw Reina leave her house early one morning, carrying a basket as she headed toward the market to buy groceries.
Seizing the moment, John quickly made his way to her home.
Looking around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside quietly.
The interior of the house looked ordinary enough at first, but John wasn't convinced.
He began checking each room carefully, looking for anything that might hint at Baston's whereabouts.
His search eventually brought him to a door that was locked from the inside.
The fact that it was locked immediately caught his attention.
John hesitated only for a moment before deciding to force it open.
Using his strength, he broke through the lock and pushed the door wide, stepping cautiously into the hidden room.
As soon as John forced the door open, he was immediately assaulted by an overwhelming stench that hit his nose like a hammer.
The sharp, metallic scent of blood mixed with the damp, foul odor of rotting flesh filled the air, nearly making him gag.
His eyes widened in pure shock at the sight before him.
The entire room was eerie and unsettling.
All around, there were numerous dolls placed carefully in rows, each of them looking nearly identical, their glassy eyes staring blankly into the void.
In the far corner stood a large statue of a man, its body unnaturally decorated and completely covered in flowers, as though it were some kind of shrine.
The grotesque atmosphere made John's skin crawl, but that was not the thing that horrified him the most.
In the very center of the room sat a man strapped tightly to a chair, bound with ropes that cut deep into his flesh.
His condition was nothing short of horrifying, almost inhuman.
Wooden splinters had been forced into his skin all across his body, and his ears were completely missing.
Fresh blood seeped down from his scalp, evidence that his hair had been yanked out violently.
His fingernails had either been ripped off or had cruelly sharp metal pins shoved into them, leaving his hands mangled and bloody.
The sight of so much suffering left John frozen for a moment, but when his eyes focused on the man's bruised and swollen face, his heart nearly stopped.
Recognition hit him like lightning.
"Baston!" John shouted in alarm, rushing toward the chair.
He stopped just in front of him, his voice trembling as he tried to make sense of the horrific state his friend was in.
Baston's eyes flickered open at the sound of his voice.
For a brief moment, hope flashed across his expression.
The instant he recognized John, his body began to struggle desperately against the ropes, as if clinging to the last bit of life.
His movements were frantic, and his eyes burned with desperation.
John wasted no time.
He quickly began untying the ropes that held him, speaking hurriedly, "Baston, what happened to you? How did you end up in such a state?! And why… why are you here, in Miss Reina's house of all places?"
At the mention of Reina's name, Baston's battered face twisted into one of sheer terror.
His lips trembled, and in a broken, weak voice he muttered, "R… run… She will… kill… me…"
John blinked in confusion, his brows furrowing. "She? Who is she?! Who kidnapped you, Baston? Tell me!" His voice grew louder, desperate for answers.
Baston's terrified eyes locked onto him as if John were the biggest fool in the world.
His expression said it all — who else could it possibly be?
There was only one answer.
Who other than Reina could have done this?
"R–Reina…" Baston finally forced the name out through his cracked lips, his voice weak but desperate.
John's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Impossible! That can't be true! It must be someone el—" His words trailed off abruptly as he noticed Baston's terrified expression suddenly freeze.
The man's trembling gaze wasn't even on him anymore — instead, it was fixed on something behind John.
A cold shiver ran down John's spine.
Slowly, with his throat dry, he swallowed hard and turned his head.
Standing just a few steps behind him was Reina.
She wore her usual harmless expression, her face calm and innocent as if nothing at all were wrong.
"M–Miss Reina!" John stammered nervously, trying to explain himself in haste.
"Look! Someone must have kidnapped Baston, tortured him, and then brought him here, placing him in your house to frame you!"
He gestured frantically toward the mutilated man, hoping she would react in shock or at least show confusion.
But Reina didn't. She simply glanced at Baston's broken form with the same casual look she always carried.
Not even a flicker of surprise crossed her beautiful face.
That was the moment John's heart sank.
He realized something was terribly wrong.
"You fucking idiot!" Baston suddenly screamed with every ounce of strength left in his lungs.
His voice cracked, full of fury and despair.
"Reina is the one who kidnapped me! She's the one who did this!"
John froze in place.
His mind went blank for a moment as the words hit him.
The truth settled in like a hammer blow, and his chest tightened.
The woman he admired, the woman he respected, the one he had quietly nurtured feelings for all these months… she was the very same person responsible for reducing his friend to such a wretched state.
His lips trembled as his eyes widened in betrayal.
"Why?" he muttered in a broken voice, unable to accept it.
His expression carried disbelief, pain, and confusion all at once.
Reina's lips curved slightly, though her tone remained calm.
"Why? How amusing. Why don't you ask your friend here about what he tried to do to me? How he tried to rape me?"
John's gaze snapped toward Baston again, his brows furrowed.
The blonde—no, now bald and broken man—looked utterly defeated.
At first, it seemed as though he wanted to lie, but his courage failed him.
He lowered his head in shame, unable to deny the accusation.
Rage boiled in John's chest.
His entire body shook as his trust in Baston shattered into pieces.
"Damn you, bastard! I trusted you!" he roared, his voice echoing in the room.
Without hesitation, John kicked him across the floor.
Baston screamed in agony as the splinters embedded in his body tore deeper, his wounds flaring in unbearable pain.
Breathing heavily, John turned back toward Reina.
His face was serious now, his voice cold but loyal.
"Miss Reina," he said firmly, "tell me… How should I kill him? I'll help you dispose of his body."
In an instant, the entire situation had flipped on its head.
However, instead of answering John's offer, Reina asked an entirely different question. Her voice was calm, yet carried a strange weight.
"I have often noticed the way you look at me, John. You gaze at me so intensely, almost as if you're trying to burn my image into your heart. Tell me honestly—do you love me?"
John, completely oblivious to the dangerous undertone in her words, didn't hesitate for a second. His heart leapt at the chance to confess.
"Yes! I love you!" he declared with absolute conviction.
"And I swear, I'll never be like this bastard here. I won't try to force myself onto you. Instead, I'll pursue you the right way, and I'll prove to you the depth of my love!"
For a moment, John thought those words might move her.
But instead, something unexpected happened.
Baston, who had been groaning in pain and shedding tears from his wounds, suddenly began to laugh.
His weak, broken chuckles cut through the tense atmosphere, drawing John's attention immediately.
Despite his miserable, mutilated condition, despite the fact that he was already halfway to death's door, Baston looked at John with an expression of pure ridicule.
It was the look of a man mocking the stupidity of another.
"Man…" Baston coughed blood between his words, yet his laughter didn't stop.
"I know I'm a sick bastard. I've done horrible things… I won't deny it. But her?"
His smile faded, his face twisting in fear. "She… she's not just a bitch. She's a fucking monster."
John felt his body shiver at Baston's words.
A creeping sense of dread began to crawl up his spine, but before he could even respond, his body suddenly went rigid.
His muscles locked up as if invisible chains had bound him.
He collapsed to the ground, his limbs refusing to obey his will.
Panic surged inside him as he realized he had been paralyzed.
'What's happening?!' he thought frantically, his mind racing. 'Why can't I move?'
With great effort, John forced his eyes upward—and what he saw froze his heart.
Reina was staring down at him, her face stripped of all warmth and kindness.
Her expression was utterly emotionless, cold enough to chill the air around her.
Then, slowly, she turned her gaze toward the strange statue that stood in the middle of the room, the one covered with flowers.
Her lips curved into a smile, but it was not the kind smile John was used to seeing.
It was twisted, almost fanatical.
"Do you see that statue?" she asked, her voice dripping with devotion.
"That is the figure of My Lord… my God."
Her cheeks flushed red, and her eyes shone with infatuation as she gazed at it as though it were alive.
"I was separated from Him… but I believe, no, I know we will meet again," she continued, her tone as sweet as honey.
But when her gaze shifted back to John and Baston, her eyes filled not with warmth, but with nothing but disgust.
"This body of mine, my soul, my everything—it all belongs only to my Lord. Yet you worms dare to lust after me? You dare to desire what belongs to Him alone? I tolerated it for a time, but…" Her lips curled into a crazed smile as her voice rose. "…you both crossed a line you never should have."
Her demeanor changed in an instant.
With a swift motion, Reina grabbed hold of a heavy iron axe resting against the wall.
The weapon gleamed dully in the dim light, menacing in its simplicity.
John's heart pounded wildly as he struggled against the paralysis, forcing every muscle in his body to move.
His voice cracked with desperation. "What did I do?! Tell me, why are you doing this to me?!"
Reina's cold, fanatic eyes locked onto him.
"Because you entered my temple… and desecrated it with your filthy presence," she replied, her voice echoing with madness.
And then, without hesitation, the sound of slaughter filled the room.
The wet, sickening noise of flesh being hacked apart echoed mercilessly, mixed with agonized screams that were quickly silenced.
By the time it was over, the two men who had once walked into that hidden chamber were nothing more than shredded, unrecognizable pieces of meat scattered across the floor.
...
Earlier that week—
As Baston grinned with anticipation and began removing his clothes, a sudden and excruciating sensation hit him in the most vulnerable place imaginable.
His smile instantly froze.
Looking down in horror, he realized that a sheathed sword had been driven mercilessly into his groin.
The spot where "little Baston" should have proudly stood was instead crushed completely under the sheath.
Before he could even scream in pain, his body betrayed him.
His muscles stiffened, his limbs refused to move, and he collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
The sheer, suffocating pressure of overwhelming bloodlust had engulfed him, shutting down his body's natural responses.
It was as though his very instincts forced him to submit in terror.
Forcing his eyes upward, Baston caught sight of Reina.
She was no longer lying unconscious as he had expected.
Instead, she was standing before him, her eyes void of emotion, staring down at him with a look that could only be described as pure disgust.
"I tried…" Reina muttered under her breath, her tone eerily calm.
"I really tried to live quietly… to be left in peace. But in the end, you all refuse to let me live in peace, don't you?"
Her cold words cut deeper than any blade.
Baston's heart pounded as he realized he had made a catastrophic mistake.
Reina then shifted her gaze toward the sword floating in front of her.
It trembled faintly, almost as though it carried a will of its own.
"Clean it," she ordered coldly.
Then she said again in a voice filled with disgust. "I am not touching that—"
REID trembled in revulsion.
Reina's lips curled as if she were holding back nausea.
She clearly had no desire to touch Baston's bloodied remains.
In the end, the weapon itself, the legendary sword Reid—famed for being able to cut through concepts themselves—unsheathed itself, shimmering with power.
With one effortless motion, it erased the man's manhood from existence entirely, leaving not even the faintest trace behind.
Thankfully, even the filth of that act was removed just by making contact with Reid's surface.
Otherwise, Reina would never have allowed her sacred weapon to be dirtied in such a way.
With Baston incapacitated, she dragged his broken body to her so-called temple.
What awaited him there was worse than death.
Reina's shrine was a twisted place decorated with flowers, dolls, and the idol of her so-called "Lord."
As she preached endlessly about her god, her words shifting between devotion and insanity, Baston came to the horrifying realization that he had walked straight into the jaws of a monster.
The proud womanizer, the man who had spent years indulging in stealing other men's women, had finally met his end at the hands of someone beyond his comprehension.
A so-called "NTR ranger" had crossed paths with what could only be described as a yandere—a fanatical devotee, a madwoman who would serve her Lord in ways no sane person would.
The result was inevitable.
The tool Baston had relied on, the very source of his pride, the weapon with which he had humiliated countless men, was gone forever.
And Reina, under the justification of offering him as a "sacrifice" to her Lord, began a campaign of torture that broke him day by day.
Wearing gloves so as not to touch his flesh directly, she inserted wooden splinters into his body with mechanical precision, her expression emotionless and unflinching the entire time.
When he begged, pleaded, and screamed for forgiveness, she only continued, as though his cries meant nothing.
When he demanded mercy or begged for her to end it quickly, she ignored him completely, keeping him alive with cruel determination.
She pierced his fingernails with sharp metal pins, each insertion bringing unbearable agony.
At times, she would take up a chained whip and lash his already battered body, the sound of metal striking flesh echoing through the room.
Eventually, Baston's spirit broke.
The arrogant Royal Knight who once prided himself on his conquests gave up all hope.
Now, he only prayed for death, whispering to himself in between sobs and screams. He cursed his own actions, regretted every choice, and begged the heavens for another chance.
"If… if I ever get another life…" he muttered countless times in despair, "…I swear, I'll never touch another man's woman again…"
But Reina didn't care.
To her, his suffering was nothing more than an offering to her Lord.
(Image:)
…
The villagers screamed as panic spread through the streets, their voices rising in alarm. A plume of smoke filled the air, and soon the crowd was running frantically toward the source of the chaos.
It was none other than Reina's house.
The once peaceful home was now engulfed in roaring flames, fire devouring everything inside as black smoke billowed into the sky.
People shouted Reina's name, calling out desperately, their voices full of worry and disbelief.
Some of the braver villagers even rushed into the burning house, hoping to rescue her, but the moment they stepped inside they were assaulted by a stench so foul it forced them back.
The sickening odor of charred human flesh clung to the air, making it unbearable to breathe.
The villagers exchanged horrified looks, their earlier hope fading away.
Meanwhile, Reina herself stood quietly on a hill not far from the village, her figure shrouded in the dim light of the fire.
She watched the scene unfold from a distance, her eyes fixed on the burning building.
A sad expression settled on her face, though not for the reasons the villagers might have imagined.
"All of my paintings…" she whispered in grief, her voice heavy with regret.
Those works of art, each one carefully created, had depicted nothing less than her endless devotion and her eternal love for her Lord.
They were not mere decorations, but sacred expressions of her worship.
To see them destroyed in fire tore at her heart.
Yet, she had chosen this herself.
The villagers had already started to grow suspicious of her after Baston's disappearance, and the danger of being exposed had become too great.
To protect her secret and to erase all evidence, she had set her own home ablaze.
She had taken her savings, every coin she owned, and carried with her a single Subaru doll—the only one she could not bear to leave behind.
Everything else was sacrificed to the flames.
She understood clearly that she could never return to this village again.
Sooner or later, they would piece everything together.
They would discover that she was the one who had killed both men in such brutal fashion.
Her focus had been absolute when starting the fire.
She had made certain that the paintings burned completely.
To her, letting anyone else see those works—especially the ones where she had portrayed herself in devotion to her Lord, even in states of undress—would have been the greatest betrayal imaginable.
Her art was sacred, meant for her Lord alone. No other eyes could be allowed to see them.
She suspected that the two men's remains, the scattered chunks of their bodies, might not have burned entirely.
But that no longer mattered.
Her priority had been the destruction of her sacred paintings, and that mission was complete.
With a final sigh, Reina turned away from the scene.
She didn't know where she would go next, but she understood that she could not wander aimlessly.
She needed a place to hide, a place abandoned by others, where she could devote herself fully to her Lord without interference.
Her memory drifted to the Sanctuary, the secluded settlement that had once been freed by this world's Subaru only months ago.
After the barrier had been broken, most of the people had left, scattering to other lands.
The Sanctuary had become little more than a deserted ruin, barren and devoid of purpose.
Because it had no further use, no one had returned to it.
For Reina, it seemed perfect.
That lonely place, forgotten by most, would become her new destination.
Clutching the Subaru doll close to her chest, she began to walk away from the hill, leaving the burning village behind.
As she did, she started to hum a little tune, her voice eerily cheerful despite the grim reality.
"The flower garden is burning down… burning down…"
And with that unsettling melody, Reina disappeared into the thick forest.
To be continued...