Sam spoke while staring with an incredibly sharp gaze. The modesty in his eyes had died as he looked at Sarah's face before him; nothing mattered to him anymore.
Suddenly... Swoosh!
In a split second, sparked by pure hellish flames, a sword emerged from a heap of fire in Sarah's hand, stopping right at Sam's neck. This wasn't enough to budge him even an inch; to him, it was like a mere gust of hot air.
Sam smirked slightly. He leaned his face even closer, stuck out his tongue, and licked the searing blade in a thoroughly repulsive gesture.
"Oh, you have a sword... wonderful. I have a sword too... care to try it?"
'Are you threatening me with a sword? In your dreams. I won't stop even if I die.'
"You perverted scoundrel... I am your President!"
Sarah delivered a sudden kick right between Sam's legs, striking his groin. It was agonizing, yet Sam didn't back down; instead, he leaned even closer to her face.
Sarah grew tense... she trembled. She didn't want to hurt him—she could have killed him—but... she had never encountered anything this insolent before. Secretly, she admired it. She had met many who tried to approach her boldly, but Sam didn't ask for a kiss or anything of the sort. He demanded her body outright. She was truly stunned.
The look in his eyes wasn't that of a lustful pervert; for a lustful pervert knows boundaries, at least with those stronger than them. But in this man's eyes, there was no lust... there was something else entirely.
"You're insane... I won't hurt you. It seems you're still suffering from the aftermath of the trauma."
Suddenly, Sam stopped trying to approach her. He took a long breath.
"Yes... I am insane. Completely. I was trying to harass you... I regret it, but I won't stop. You know... we haven't known each other for very long. My blood is from the streets, and yours is noble."
Sarah didn't understand what Sam was trying to say at that moment, but she let him speak what was in his heart.
"Be a noble woman, Sarah. Embrace the poor commoners like me... hold them, sit with them. Be a true princess... do not care for appearances."
Sarah had grown weary of Sam's madness. She decided to deter him once and for all.
Suddenly, flames erupted from her entire body, surrounding her and forming a magnificent, towering figure of fire before Sam.
"For the last time... do not ever repeat this again."
As Sam looked directly at the form of the alluring woman made of fire before him, he smirked and rubbed his hands together. Then... he began to unbutton his shirt. As he stripped it off amidst Sarah's utter bewilderment, he was about to drop his trousers, showing no trace of fear whatsoever.
Sarah, in her exquisite form, emerged from the fiery silhouette and stopped Sam from removing his pants.
"Are you insane?! I will never agree to any of this! You have crossed every line... Get out!"
Sam fell silent, smiling as he gazed deep into Sarah's eyes. He chuckled softly.
"Why not? I just want to know..."
'What is this madman raving about now?' Sarah wondered.
"Why don't we sleep together... unite completely in a relationship filled with lust and perdition? Why... why not?"
He was... he was incredibly strange, a sight that sent shivers down the spine. Sam had cast everything aside. He wouldn't budge, not in any way, by any means. He no longer cared. He no longer gave a damn about anything. He saw no value... he saw nothing but a goal that could not be failed.
Suddenly, a blast of fiery force struck Sam, flinging him across the room against the wall. She had been wrong to feel that momentary admiration for him; he was utterly revolting.
To Sarah, Sam was a great talent that needed refining, and though they had shared life-and-death experiences—leading her to consider him one of her inner circle—she had no need for a mad subordinate.
He had chosen this path; he had to fix himself before dealing with her again.
Amidst Sarah's thoughts, she watched Sam, who, strangely enough, began walking toward her once more. She blasted him with fire again, sending him crashing back into the wall. He was injured every time. She tried to restrain her power as much as possible, lowering the intensity and the heat.
Yet, he kept approaching. He wouldn't stop; he wouldn't allow her to deter him with easy methods. She let him get close one last time, watching his body, now slightly covered in burns, and his scorched clothes.
He drew near, then stood before her.
"Miss Sarah Smorgoth... this servant has learned his lesson. He was, in truth, a fool, and now he begs for forgiveness."
Sarah looked at him in bewilderment. What is going on in this man's head?
"In fact, my mistress... I have erred in one matter. You are a noble person, holding an incredibly high status. This servant currently possesses nothing. I am not tall, nor exceptionally handsome, nor even a powerful person... but I will not stop. My mistress... will you accept me as your fiancé?"
In a single moment... it didn't take long.
Sam found himself outside the villa, dressed in his scorched clothes like a vagrant, standing right before the gates. His body was searing from the burns, and his chest throbbed with pain.
Yet, he stood there, outside the villa, refusing to collapse. Yes... he had decided that he would not budge.
He did not break... he was utterly impenetrable. The only thing reaching his ears was a fading whistle; his stance was invincible, his resolve sleepless.
Psychologically, Sam didn't feel a single scratch. He had learned a vital lesson: never try to push someone into their most dangerous corner. He knew he had to play a war of attrition, a game of endless patience—and in this, no one could defeat his endurance. He was prepared to face a war of attrition against this girl forever if she wished, and he would never despair, not for a single day. Eternal resolve can cross mountains, and a squirrel can reach the clouds as long as it keeps climbing.
One hour passed... he felt hunger; he hadn't eaten in a while. He stood his ground, unbothered. Three hours passed... it was no problem for him. His mind was entirely occupied with tactics to break her heart.
During this time, a strange, fleeting question crossed his mind: Why Sarah, specifically? Was he a masochist, or just a madman who had lost his mind? If his goal was truly just sex, he could go to a brothel, or use his knowledge of the novel to make any other beautiful character fall for him.
Why Sarah? The answer was simple.
Sam saw himself now at the peak of consciousness. He had a crystal-clear goal, unlike his former self before death.
He saw Sarah as someone truly untouchable—powerful, beautiful, graceful, with "golden stats" in every aspect of her being.
He enjoyed her company immensely, and to him, getting close enough to have her was something he once could only dream of.
But after seeing the "Void," he felt that dreams without realization were worthless. To Sam, Sarah was something greater than just a relationship. She was a trophy... a medal proving how he had conquered his weak self of the past.
Hours passed... without a single glance at the clock.
Night fell over the place, and silence engulfed the surroundings. The cars thinned out, the movement faded, and the area grew desolate. Sam was still in pain outside, standing steadfastly behind the villa's gate.
He had stepped away for only ten minutes to gather some flowers, crafting a floral crown for Sarah. The wind was bothersome, blowing his hair back; his mixed black and white strands added a haunting beauty to his appearance.
The flower crown took flight, scattering across the ground due to the wind. He did not despair; he crafted another, even as the pain persisted.
He felt that Sarah had been deeply hurt by his "attack." Next time, he would have to be gentler; he needed to reach the deepest, most intimate level of her inner circle. She had to trust him completely before he could make his next move.
He snapped a photo of the new flower crown and sent it to Sarah, accompanied by a laughing emoji.
[How about I come in and give this to you?]
She didn't reply immediately, but she read the message. Ten minutes later, a text came back:
[You are incredibly stupid and strange. What do you think you're doing, trying to make peace? Does this justify your earlier lust?]
Sam smirked as he read Sarah's response. He typed back:
[I know my mistake. We all err. I know, my mistress, that I am a total fool. I may look like a mindless lecher, but to me, you are something truly magnificent...]
Sarah immediately sent back an exclamation mark, followed by another message:
[Is sex what you ask of "magnificent things"? You've changed. I don't know what your goal is, but honestly, I'm curious—why are you doing this? You're certainly not stupid enough to do this without a reason.]
Yes... she realized it. She knew there was a deeper motive, but she didn't want to pride herself on that knowledge. She wanted to tell herself he was just a pervert—to view him as nothing more than a dog. But this dog was exceptionally strange.
[I apologize once more for my approach. I know it seems odd, but I will tell the truth. After experiencing something akin to death, I realized that life can end in an instant. I lived a miserable life; I never did what satisfied my heart. You were one of my dreams, my mistress... and I am prepared to chase you from now on, as my dream.]
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Hey everyone...
I'm writing this as I prepare to head into a very important exam season this year, which means I won't be able to post any new chapters for a while.
Before I take this brief hiatus, I'd like to ask for a small favor: Could you support this "poor author" with a comment on this chapter? I truly want to know your thoughts on the novel's quality so far. Did Sam's new coldness reach you? Did his confrontation with Sarah shock you as much as I hoped?
Seeing your comments and interactions makes me incredibly happy and gives me the fuel to return with even more passion. I'm also curious to know... how many of you have made it all the way to this chapter? Please leave a word or your thoughts below; every single message means the world to me.
Stay safe, and I'll see you right after my exams with even crazier events!