The Fake Saintess Awaits Her Exit

Leon was bewildered. He couldn’t fathom what was happening or how things had taken such a turn. The maiden had proposed to him first, of course, and he had eagerly accepted her offer. He had imagined being led to an empty room, unable to contain his anticipation until the moment they reached their destination, and the dawn would break as they tossed and turned.

It was a fleeting thought, like a parched wanderer in the desert, barely moistening his lips with water. From now on, he had intended to plunge himself into a deeper well. He believed that by searching and thirsting until morning, this thirst of his would be quenched to some extent.

But it was not meant to be. As the distant toll of midnight bells echoed in his ears, the maiden suddenly rose from her place. She made incomprehensible sounds, expressing gratitude and apologies, as she attempted to leave.

He had been with countless women before, but this was the first time he had encountered such a situation. If she were simply afraid, he could understand, but the expression on the maiden’s face did not convey such emotions.

It almost seemed as though spending the night with him was one of her daily tasks, judging by the relief apparent on her face. And yet, he couldn’t comprehend why she was crying. For now, he needed to calm her down and have a conversation.

In a hurry to catch the maiden as she walked out the door, he hastily searched for his discarded pants. He had no time to consider whether they were facing forward or backward, or if his legs would fit properly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Leon wanted to grab the maiden immediately and confront her. He felt as though he had been momentarily used for her amusement. Was this what people meant when they said “use and discard”? Leon followed the maiden, stepping into the corridor.

He saw her stumbling, on the verge of collapse. However, there was a hand holding her back. When Leon saw the face of the man gripping her, a sound escaped his lips, akin to a whimper.

“Sir Latvan…”

The person who caught the falling maiden was Latvan. The moment Leon’s gaze met his, Leon involuntarily wavered. It was a gaze that seemed ready to tear him apart on the spot. Only then did Leon consider how this situation would appear in the eyes of others.

The dishevelled maiden, clad in a nightgown, ran away in tears, and behind her, there was me, attempting to restrain her, with my clothes dishevelled and not properly worn.

That’s when Latvan opened his mouth, addressing the maiden.

“Do you desire the author’s disposal?”

Upon hearing those words, Leon hurriedly searched for his sword. However, the sword he had brought as a precautionary measure was most likely rolling beneath the bed in that room, where he had recently intertwined with the maiden.

“Damn it.”

The thought crossed his mind, wondering if this had all been planned. Even if Latvan were to draw his sword at this very moment and threaten him, Leon had no words to say. The maiden seduced him so suddenly, and now she was crying and running away? Who would believe such a story?

“N-no!”

At that moment, the maiden shook her head hurriedly to Latvan. Then, she pushed away Latvan’s arm that was holding her and attempted to walk down the corridor again. However, she soon sank down, defeated. When Latvan lifted her up once more, a white liquid trickled down the black stone corridor.

A brief silence fell among the three individuals.

Oddly enough, Leon discovered within himself a renewed desire as he watched the maiden, who was walking with her robe flowing graciously. If only he could hold her body once again, comforting her and filling her with his possession.

“We should go… We must leave from here, for now…”

As the maiden murmured, bowing her head deeply, Latvan, who had been glaring at her as if to devour her, removed the upper garment of his own attire and placed it over her.

“Allow me.”

With those words, the maiden walked with even greater difficulty, bowing her head even more. Was it because she felt stifled? Latvan hesitated briefly, then held the maiden with both arms and swiftly proceeded down the corridor. Just before turning the corner, he spoke to Leon.

“We shall discuss the details in the morning.”

In Latvan’s voice, steeped in unyielding anger, Leon found himself unable to utter a single word. He could only gaze at the maiden, wrapped in Latvan’s garments, her face hidden from view.

Soon, Latvan and the maiden disappeared, leaving Leon alone in the corridor.

“What in the world…”

He couldn’t grasp what had just happened. However, one thing was certain: she had not set any traps. Leon circled the corridor several times, where the bed sheets were in disarray, confirming that the recent events were not a figment of his imagination.

Having found his sword, Leon finished dressing and was about to leave the room when something caught his eye on the floor.

“Oh my…”

It was a button, attached to the maiden’s nightgown. It had likely fallen off when he hastily undressed her. Leon briefly observed it before placing it in his pocket.

“I need to find out.”

A thought that had occurred to him earlier resurfaced in his mind. Could the maiden have been able to marry?

The first woman to have received my seed.

Leon wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The thirst within him would not subside completely until he had the maiden completely within his grasp.