Chapter 60
Written by Bayzo Albion
I flicked the camera back on in my interface, my gaze tightening as the second twin leaned in, drawing the last traces of my life essence from the exhausted girl.
"Well then," I finally turned to the girl, allowing myself to truly take her in for the first time, "let's get to the main course of our evening."
Her lips trembled, but she held her vow of silence.
I tugged off my pants and sank into the soft armchair, sprawling out lazily. The flavor of dominance coursed through me alongside the alcohol, clouding my thoughts, blurring the scene into a hazy blend of control and reverie.
"What are you waiting for? Get to it," I said coolly, my voice laced with command.
The stranger didn't flinch. She traced a finger along her scarlet lips, then let her hand drift lower, outlining the smooth curve of her hips. She shot me a glance from beneath her lashes—defiant, like someone who knew the value of her own quietude.
"I don't care how," I said indifferently, lighting a cigar. The flame flickered, mirroring her breath. The booze softened reality into a warm, sticky fantasy.
She moved toward me slowly, each step deliberate, as if performing some intimate ritual only she understood. When her knees touched the carpet, she paused—uncertain for a heartbeat—then grew bolder, her presence brushing against me with a warmth that sent a shiver down my spine.
Her hands glided up my thigh with trembling confidence. Then came her breath—soft, hot, unbearably close—an intimate caress that made the world shrink to a single, suspended moment. What followed wasn't touch, but something deeper: a pull, a hunger, a devotion that made it feel as though reality itself wanted to consume me through her nearness.
I leaned back, exhaling a slow plume of smoke toward the ceiling, and murmured lazily:
"I'm not forcing you. If you don't want this, leave."
Her answer came not in words but in action—swift, intense, and unmistakably devoted. She pushed closer, her presence overwhelming, guided by a hunger that felt almost ritualistic. Each movement carried a raw urgency, a silent declaration that she wasn't going anywhere.
My hand found the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, guiding her with the steady firmness of someone taming a wild creature—and with the same dangerous trust.
I closed my eyes. A drunken, smoky paradise enveloped me. The haze of alcohol, the scent of cigars, and the rhythm of her devotion blended into a single hypnotic pull—impossible to escape, and even harder to resist wanting more.
"What other pleasures are there besides wine, cigars... and sex?" I asked the void, more to myself than anyone.
A lazy, mocking reply flickered in my mind: "Work... and more work."
I chuckled. No, not tonight. Tonight was for oblivion.
And that's when I heard it—the dull, rhythmic clank of iron heels on stone floors. Too loud. Too deliberate. It wasn't mere walking; it was a ceremony, each strike vibrating the air like a password demanding entry.
"You summoned us, village chief?" came a seductively cool voice.
They appeared in the doorway: the twins. The very ones who served as guardians in the red-light district. They looked less like soldiers and more like living sculptures carved from a libertine's fever dream. Identical faces, identical bodies, distinguished only by the nuance in their gazes: one playfully sardonic, the other dark, perilous, and utterly silent.
"Yes, I did," I replied evenly, sinking deeper into the chair as if it were a throne.
"As I can see... you're buried in work," the first one said, surveying the room with a faint smirk, testing the limits of propriety.
The second said nothing. She stood like a cracked mirror's reflection, her eyes boring into me. No submission, no curiosity—just a quiet, menacing flame.
"I have a question for you," I said, reclining further and eyeing them with a hazy, intoxicated curiosity, my gaze tracing their mirrored forms.
"We're listening," she replied politely, stepping closer. The metal on her chest barely concealed her nipples, and every breath made the bronze quiver slightly. Pauldrons, straps, belts—all designed not for defense, but to accentuate the fluid curves and invite sin.
"Do you really believe those revealing armors can protect you from anything?" I smiled faintly.
"Perhaps you're too drunk to realize how foolish that question is," she countered softly, her tone playful rather than offended.
"And yet... humor me. I'm curious."
She leaned in closer, her breath brushing my face.
"These armors aren't mere clothing. They're infused with magical batteries. When the air around us stirs with hostile intent, the barrier activates automatically. Or manually... if things turn intimate," her voice dropped lower, her smirk sharpening.
"I don't see any barrier," I said, extending a leg and letting my eyes wander over the contours of her thighs.
"It's invisible, like arousal," she replied, locking eyes with me. "But you'll feel it if you touch too roughly. Or too suddenly."
"And the drawbacks of such... seductive protection?"
"It needs recharging," she said, licking her lips.
"Where do you get the... electricity?" I drawled, stretching the words with irony.
For a moment, she faltered, her voice softening:
"Pardon... could you repeat that?"
"How do you charge it?"
"With a mana collector," she whispered, the word carrying an implication that her body itself was a reservoir of power.
"I see," I said, my interest waning from words as something far more tantalizing loomed.
I rose slightly from the chair, my fingers trailing the cool armrest, and regarded them both.
"Wouldn't you like to... join in?" I asked, my voice low and teasing as I traced their curves with my gaze, lingering deliberately on the swell of their hips. I let the words hang in the air like a challenge, heavy with implication.
"N-No..." one of them murmured softly, her eyes dropping to the floor. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, that flicker of uncertainty only fueling my smirk, stoking the fire of my amusement.
"Why so shy?" I chuckled hoarsely, leaning forward just enough to command their attention. "You know opportunities like this don't come along every day. Imagine it—pleasure intertwined with duty. Isn't that the perfect alliance?"
"We... just..." she stammered, biting her lip, her voice trailing off into a whisper of hesitation.
I arched an eyebrow and leaned in closer, cutting her off with a soft but unyielding insistence: "I'm not forcing you. Relax. I'm merely offering... a different taste of power."
The other twin, who had stayed silent until now, narrowed her eyes slightly. Her gaze didn't meet mine; instead, it lingered on the scene unfolding before her—on the girl kneeling before me, absorbed completely in her task.
She said nothing, but her breathing deepened, betraying desires she didn't dare voice. The air grew thick with unspoken heat, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the tension building in the room.
"Bring me the village report," I drawled lazily, as if the scene unfolding had been nothing more than a prelude to business.
One of them departed briefly and returned with a stack of papers. I took them, while her devotion continued, my mind drifting between carnal haze and emerging intrigue.
"So... this needs fixing... cancel that..." I muttered, turning pages with casual detachment.
The deeper I delved into the reports, the more captivating the village revealed itself to be—far stranger than its rustic facade suggested. Its entire agricultural system thrived underground, a labyrinth of ingenuity hidden from the surface world.
The first level housed expansive farms breeding livestock and exotic beasts: goats with iridescent feathers, hens laying eggs in vibrant hues, bulls whose semen alchemists prized above gold. The descriptions bordered on madness, yet beneath the absurdity lay a meticulous logic, a symphony of controlled chaos that pulsed with otherworldly vitality.
The second level was dedicated to crops—wheat, rice, corn, potatoes... and crimson vines that stretched toward artificial light, as if breathing in harmony with the earth itself, their tendrils coiling with an almost sentient grace.
The third level resembled a mystical forge. They harvested water from subterranean vapors, evaporated salt from inky lakes, and mined luminous minerals that glowed with an inner fire, fueling the village's magical grid like veins of enchanted ore.
"What a surprise... live and learn," I murmured, setting the papers aside and taking a long drag from my cigarette. The smoke intertwined with the lingering thrill, heightening the electric charge in the air.
– – –
Before I stood and lit another cigarette, our wordless encounter had already run its course—quick, unadorned, stripped of tenderness or affection, the kind of intimacy that leaves no echo behind.
"Take her to the bedroom. Let her rest," I ordered, flicking ash onto the stone floor.
One twin nodded and stepped forward. With effortless grace, she lifted the limp girl into her arms and disappeared down the corridor. I sank back into my chair, scattering ash, and summoned the castle's interface—a relic of magic that granted me sight into every corner of these halls.
> Interface: Surveillance activated. Access restricted to you alone.
I expected nothing unusual—just her being set down to recover.
But what appeared on the shimmering screen froze me mid-breath.
The twin didn't simply leave.
Her movements shifted—slow, deliberate, almost ritualistic.
She straddled the unconscious girl, pressing close, drawing something unseen from her body. Not flesh. Not pleasure. Essence. The leftover fragments of my vital energy that clung to the girl like embers after a dying fire.
Her breathing grew heavier, her back arching as magic rippled through her. The extraction was intimate in form but arcane in purpose, more spell than act—part devotion, part hunger. She trembled, overwhelmed by the flood of stolen vitality, then collapsed forward with a muffled cry, shuddering as the last surge of power coursed through her.
"Damn…" I whispered, slumping back. "Shouldn't have seen that… or maybe I should've."
I shut off the feed, but the image burned behind my eyes—amplifying the heat already rising in my chest. My hands tightened on the armrests, breath growing unsteady.