After breakfast, I ran away.
Well—walked, quickly and awkwardly, with my robe flapping and my lower half trying desperately not to show evidence of… stimulation. I muttered something to Verona about "urgent reading," and she raised one perfect brow, then gestured toward the estate's private library.
Bless her for not commenting.
Now I sat in the library's velvet armchair, staring blankly at a thick red book titled Scripture of Revealing: Divine Pleasure and the Sacred Form. It was supposed to be religious scripture. It looked more like an erotic artbook with holy captions.
One page showed a woman arching backward, hands to the sky, breast bare, as radiant light poured from between her legs. The caption read:
"To reveal is to honor the body. To receive is to honor the soul."
I closed the book with a sigh and buried my face in my hands.
"What the hell is this place?"
Everything was beautiful, sensual, soaked in desire. People smiled, touched, kissed without shame. And I—Tanaka Himori, failed job-seeker and former delivery driver—was now Caldus Valenheart, a noble in a world where lust was basically a religion.
I just wanted a quiet life and a stable income. Instead, I was trying to suppress boners over breakfast.
A gentle knock pulled me from my thoughts.
Verona peeked in, her silver hair tied up, translucent maid uniform swaying as she stepped inside.
"Pardon, my Lord," she said smoothly. "Lady Selvira has arrived. She requests a private audience."
I blinked. "Who?"
Verona tilted her head. "...Lady Selvira. Your lover. She returns from the capital today."
Lover?
"Oh. Right. Her."
I had no idea who that was.
"Shall I send her in?"
I stood up too fast. "Yes. No! I mean—yes. Please."
Verona nodded once and turned to leave, hips swaying with soldier-like grace.
Moments later, the door opened again.
And in walked the most dangerously confident woman I'd ever seen.
She was tall, with long black hair cascading over one shoulder in soft waves. Her eyes were crimson — not metaphorically, but literally. Crimson. Like wine in candlelight. Her skin was fair, smooth, with the subtle glow of someone who bathed in expensive oils.
Her gown was a black and crimson masterpiece: tightly wrapped around her hips, split high on both sides, with a center cutout that exposed the tops of her full breasts and barely covered anything when she moved. She looked like royalty who'd just stepped out of an erotic painting.
She said nothing at first—just walked across the library, heels clicking softly on the marble floor. Then she stood in front of me and raised a hand to my cheek.
"Did you miss me, my lion?" she whispered.
I gulped. "I… yes. Of course."
She smiled faintly, her eyes flicking down my chest—still exposed thanks to the damn robe style—and then back to my face.
"Mm. You look tense."
"You could say that."
She turned, letting her dress glide over the back of her thighs, and sat beside me on the long lounge. Legs crossed. And when she crossed them, the slit of her gown parted high—so high I nearly choked.
Everything below her waist was smooth, bare. The curve of her sacred place was right there, shining slightly under the sunlight through the window.
I locked my eyes on the ceiling.
She reached for the small tray on the table, where a maid had left sliced fruit and wine.
"You still enjoy strawberries, don't you?" she asked.
I nodded mutely.
She dipped a slice in honey, then held it to my lips.
"Open."
I obeyed.
She fed it to me slowly, dragging her finger along my bottom lip after. My spine stiffened—my everything stiffened.
"You're quiet today," she murmured, voice lower now. "When I left for the capital, you were bold. Hungry. Now you're flustered. Nervous."
"I—just thought I'd try… a refined approach," I said, trying to smile.
She leaned in. Her breath tickled my cheek.
"I like this new flavor of you," she said. "But don't pretend with me. I know your rhythms."
Crap.
Was she suspicious?
She didn't press. Instead, she traced one finger along my chest, dragging it slowly across my exposed skin. I inhaled sharply.
"Did you think of me while I was gone?" she asked.
"Yes," I lied.
"Did you pleasure yourself imagining me?"
"I—!"
Before I could finish panicking, a knock interrupted us again. Verona's voice came through the door.
"My Lord. A guest from the merchant guild is arriving early. Shall I delay them?"
Selvira stood slowly, with a faint smirk, as if she knew exactly how hard I was trying to sit still.
"No need to delay," I called out, voice cracking slightly.
Selvira ran a hand along my jaw, bent low, and whispered into my ear:
"Next time, don't play so innocent. It excites me too much."
Then she turned and walked out, her gown flowing behind her like a living shadow.
I stared at the door after she left. My heart was hammering. My lower body was in distress. My palms were sweaty. I couldn't even tell if I was terrified, turned on, or both.
Then I felt it again.
Warmth. Pressure. A whisper just behind my ear.
The voice, smooth as velvet and sweet as honey.
"They will tempt you… test you… and claim you. But choose carefully, my flame. Some will love your body. Others… may love your heart."
The whisper faded like smoke.
I swallowed, glanced down at myself, and groaned.
"I just wanted to be an accountant…"