The Guestroom, Engels’ House, Village of Engel

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Adrian was exhausted. The brief sleep he had managed that night, induced by mana exhaustion, was nowhere near enough for the relentless day he had endured. By the time he emerged from the pine woods and approached Engel, his body was dragging – his legs ached with every step, and his breath came heavy. He kept himself well-fed and hydrated thanks to his inventory supplies, but the strain on his body remained.

  His skin burned from hours under the sun, and he felt an immense relief when he spotted Lieutenant James approaching from the village’s outskirts, where golden crops stretched toward the west and a few scattered chicken coops marked the boundary.

  “My Lord, what happened? I hope all this blood isn’t yours,” James asked, concern in his voice.

  In actuality, only the front of Adrian’s tunic was stained, dark and wet with blood. The cloak he had worn during the battle had taken the worst of it, but he had long since removed and stored it in his inventory. That was when Will had proven himself useful for the first time, making a sharp remark: “You have a storage item and still bother taking prisoners? Just kill us, motherfucker.”

  Rita had responded instantly, snapping, “Shut up, you vermin,” before kicking his legs. She clearly didn’t share his perspective.

  Despite Will’s foul attitude, Adrian had taken note of something important – storage items existed in this world. Expensive, but real. It meant that as long as he was discreet with his magic skill, he could avoid suspicion.

  “No, Lieutenant. The blood isn’t mine,” Adrian finally answered, while he kept walking – looking for the nearest shade. “I managed to track down a group of bandits. Most of them are dead. I also met Marshal Justin – he’s bringing prisoners, along with grave news. There’s a monster horde to the south.”

  Private Hober, rushed over with a water flask, filled with cold, clear water. They exchanged a few polite words and Adrian downed it in seconds, relishing the relief.

  “One problem is solved, and another rises… We can’t thank you enough, Lord Adrian.” James exhaled. “When Forrest told me he had basically agreed to send you scouting alone after the bandits, I couldn’t believe it. I’m truly sorry for repeatedly putting your lordship in such situations.” His tone was both formal and apologetic.

  And there it was again – that distance, that reverence. Adrian didn’t like nor did he understand it. It was settled; tomorrow, he would confide in Hugo. If the man could be an ally, that was something he sorely needed. Will’s street-smart provocations had been useful in their own way, but there was still too much Adrian didn’t know.

  “Lieutenant, I need to clean up and change,” Adrian said. “I’d like to attend the wake ceremony, but I can’t go like this. Where can I borrow some clothes?”

  “Do not trouble yourself with such trivialities, Lord Adrian,” James replied quickly. “Allow me to escort you to your room and everything will be arranged.”

  Together, they walked toward Engel’s house, where Adrian was given a bucket of warm water and clean cloth to wash himself. Soon, someone would come to bring him fresh clothes. He initially refused – as he saw his Survivor’s Set and armor already cleaned and neatly arranged over the dresser – but they insisted. Apparently, it wouldn’t be proper to attend the wake in black. He didn’t fully understand the custom but chose not to argue.

  Once alone, Adrian allowed himself a moment to breathe while he cleaned-up. His muscles felt heavy, the cool breeze through the open window slightly raised the shades and soothed his aching body. After dressing up in his black outfit and taking out the dirty water, he ate fresh fruit, drank more water, and reflected on the day.

  ‘Overload needs to be ready before heading out again,’ Adrian decided, preparing for his upcoming conversation with Justin. Another priority was learning to better gauge his magic usage; he couldn’t afford to pass out like he had when curing Tommy – especially not in battle. He could feel when Overload had drained a large portion of his mana, even though it was supposed to increase it somehow – that was something to test later. Phoenix Embrace was even trickier to measure, making it essential for him to develop a better sense of his mana flow. Using multiple low-cooldown magic skills seemed like a promising way to refine this awareness – something he made a mental note to test as soon as Reset became available.

  A curious use Adrian had found for Phoenix Embrace’s cooldown was treating it as a personal clock, helping him track how long he had been walking, running, or hiding throughout the day –even if he didn’t know the exact time, estimating it only by the sun’s position.

  Just as he was thinking about how he should go by looking for professional sword training, a new scent drifted in through the window – roasted chicken. His stomach clenched, a deep, primal hunger reminding him that his body needed more calories. His supplies were well-stocked, but his body craved something warm, something with more substance.

  He hoped he might be able to join the meal before the wake, guessing that whoever was bringing his change of clothes would find him in the kitchen. But as he reached for the door, someone knocked – just as he was about to open it.

  He swung it open, coming face-to-face with a woman.

  “Hello, Lord Adrian,” she said softly. “I’m Luanda. I was sent to help adjust some clothes.” She lifted a basket containing a neatly folded set.

  Adrian recognized her immediately from the previous night. His gaze swept over her once more, taking in the details he had missed before.

  She had a natural beauty, her dark hair pulled back with only a few delicate adornments. This time, she wore a pale white dress, its hem ending just above the knees, adorned with lace and fine white frills. And then there were her lips. Full, deep red, carrying an effortless maturity that made Adrian’s pulse quicken.

  Name: Luanda

  Titles: Serf of Vulcarius

  Species: Human

  Age: 28 years

  Class: Weaver, level 25

  “Luanda, thank you so much for repairing my clothes, the shoulder cut is now seamless, just perfect.” Adrian commented, his tone polite but warm. He gave a slight bow as a token of thanks. “Let me know what I owe you.”

  When Hober had come to the weaver’s house, asking her to meet Adrian for a clothing adjustment, Luanda could hardly believe it. The man she had actively tried to not think about the entire day, now needed her again.

  She wasn’t ready for such a development – the thought of facing him unprepared, still in her work clothes, brought a sharp pang of self-doubt. She couldn’t afford to feel that same inadequacy again. ‘That’s what truly bothered me,’ she argued inwardly, trying to convince herself she wasn’t completely drawn to him – justifying, instead, the last-minute addition of frills and other costly details to her white mourning dress.

  She changed quickly, doing what she could to make the dress more presentable. ‘It's only right to properly present myself to our savior,’ she told herself, deliberately pushing aside the voice in her head that mischievously suggested she was preparing to gift herself to him. The thought made her cringe, but she quickly masked it with a composed expression. ‘Not that kind of present, Luanda,’ she scolded.

  But that moment, when Luanda caught Adrian’s bright blue eyes on her, taking in every detail with his intense gaze – her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t for the life of her seem to draw a single steady breath. ‘Does he like me?’ she thought, disgusted with herself for even entertaining such questions. ‘Why am I acting like this?’ she tensed up, her calm and controlled facade waning over her own ridiculous out of place thoughts. She hated how she was suddenly an awkward, blushing fool, like some inexperienced girl caught up in her own emotions. ‘I must look like a complete idiot,’ she thought, her face burning with embarrassment.

  “Lord Adrian, we’re the ones who should be thanking you. You healed my husband’s arm—there’s no way we could ever repay you,” Luanda said, her voice steady and composed, the words just as formal as she intended. ‘Bringing up my husband – that’s the right thing to do,’ she reminded herself, the perfect way to set a boundary. But then, against all her attempts to keep it together, she added, “Please, name anything you wish from me.” The words tumbled out, more impulsive than she’d intended, and a lightheaded wave of embarrassment swept over her. ‘Why can’t I just handle this? I thought I had dealt with these feelings already,’ frustration twisting inside her.

  “Oh! Tommy was your husband? I didn’t know that.” Adrian exclaimed, feeling somewhat disappointed. “I’m sorry for not asking about him earlier. Is he feeling well?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “Yes, he is, thanks to your lordship. He means to thank you in person soon, but he’s been busy all day helping prepare the ceremonial ornaments for the wake,” she explained on Tommy’s behalf.

  Luanda’s blushing features somehow twisted Adrian’s mind. She was a beautiful woman, and there was a mixture of innocence and maturity in her behavior that made his hands sweat. He couldn’t help but flex his muscles slightly and lean forward, though he quickly realized what he was doing. There was no way he would hit on a married woman ten years older than him – any signals he might have thought he was getting were almost certainly delusional. ‘Yes, I want her. Of course I do,’ he acknowledged his feeling like he was learning to. ‘But that doesn’t give me the right to just… no. I’m in a position of power over her – it would be wrong. Completely wrong.’ He concluded firmly.

  “Wow, he’s already working. I’m glad to hear that. And honestly, I don’t know what Engel told you, but I don’t need money. To be honest, I didn’t even know my magic would be this effective.” Adrian paused, then added, “Now, are those for me? Because honestly, my day has been tiring, and I’m craving something hot.” He gestured toward the clothes, hoping he’d have time to grab a bite at the kitchen.

  Adrian’s magic had been so effective that not only had Tommy fully recovered, but he also felt more vigorous than before the battle. For anyone other than himself, the claim of not knowing he possessed such powerful magic could only sound like irony. That same irony would seem to extend to his mention of payment. His choice of words only further tangled Luanda’s already chaotic reasoning. And though his next sentence was nothing more than an honest admission of hunger, it could just as easily be taken as suggestive.

  ‘He doesn’t want money. He wants something hot. Sylvanor, what is happening? I want him, but I just can’t.’ Luanda despaired, her heart racing – and she nearly bolted away from there. But then, she glanced at the basket in her hands. She had a job to do. ‘Focus. Stay professional,’ she tried to remind herself.

  “Oh, these,” she said, too lightly – her smile forced, the flirtation no longer confined to her thoughts. Heat flushed her cheeks as the voices that had haunted her all day – the wondering, the wanting – finally found shape in her actions.

  “Please, let me help you.” She stepped through the doorway, meaning to walk – calm and composed – but her body betrayed her, surging forward as if grasping for something just out of reach. The door clicked shut behind her. Before he could ask, she crossed the room and drew the curtains in one fluid motion; her weaver magic flared subtly, stiffening the fabric as if the very room obeyed her urgency.

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  For a moment, darkness draped over them, and she felt him moving closer – a kind of claustrophobic tension, as if the spacious room were suddenly too small for both of them. Then she lit the bedside lamp, and the glowstone emitted a soft amber light that spilled across the space, gentle and golden, revealing dust in the air as their eyes adjusted and identified the thin cracks of sunlight still clinging to the edges of the sill. Adrian could see her chest rising, fast and vigorously, and his own breath edged toward panic, though he didn’t know why.

  There was a mesmerizing voice beneath her thoughts that hummed and bewitched her mind. Something had been stirring inside her all day, and now it rose without shame. The fantasies she’d buried had taken root, and now they bloomed – unfurling in the velvety shadows. There was a pull, and she no longer wished to resist it.

  Adrian blinked, uncertain. ‘What is she doing? Why close the window?’ he wondered. But when she lit the room and picked up the folded clothes, the logic returned. She was simply being practical and sensible.

  ‘She’s not into me,’ he affirmed in his head. But the part of him that believed that was shrinking. And disturbingly, he realized that the shrinking part hurt. This was not the kind of thing that would ever happen to Adrian, after all, but he would like it to happen, and so he let himself accept this was possible – even if, in the end, it meant he would only get more hurt.

  “These are a simple tunic and pants from Matos’s store,” she said, her voice softer now, nearly swallowed by the silence. She stepped closer, holding out the clothes. Her fingers deliberately brushed his as she placed them in his hands.

  “He always keeps the better stuff in stock. It’s not quite ‘fit for a lord,’” she added, eyes lifting to meet his. They didn’t dart away, but lingered – lost in the present moment, no longer trapped within her own head. “But it should be enough… with a few adjustments,” she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. Adrian leaned closer, as if to catch her words, but in doing so, he unfolded a part of him he knew not of. The space between them pulsed with something unspoken. Her will and his choice met, each echoing the other – two notes in the same unresolved chord, building into a crescendo.

  Adrian, still processing the unexpected turn of events, raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a small smile. “Shall I?” he asked, his voice smooth and playful. His words seemed to echo between them, their bodies so tense – like mountain peaks holding back avalanches. ‘This is different – new,’ he felt it in his chest, like the first breath after surfacing from deep water. ‘But she’s special. I want her, and I will have her.’

  He let his unfolding-self wrap around him like a cloak, trimming his hesitation and gradually weaving a cloak of confidence – the old wariness slipping from his shoulders like a worn tunic, shrugged off and forgotten in the warmth of something new. His gaze lingered on hers just a moment longer, not by accident, but by choice – teasing, waiting for her reaction – as if the very power of the moment stirred something primal within him.

  “Yes, please, go ahead, my lord. And ask if you need assistance,” she replied quickly, her voice a little too steady. ‘This is fine, totally fine, nothing strange, just helping,’ she repeated to herself like a mantra, her arguments visibly wobbling in her mind.

  Just as Luanda’s heart abandoned imagination, the darkness stirred Adrian’s senses. By now, he completely let go of his defenses, allowing himself to believe in the tremors in his arms and the tingling in his spine. His mind sharpened, his focus narrowing on her, blurring everything around like a lens with a shallow depth of field.

  Luanda’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the last, as she struggled to focus on her job. ‘Just the clothes. I can be with him a bit more,’ she accepted her will slowly and gently, flourishing possibilities of contradictions – fidelity and satisfaction becoming a dream she could simultaneously achieve. The silence in the room deepened, amplifying their rising desire.

  His palms were sweaty, knees weak, but on the surface, he looked calm and indifferent. He began removing his tunic, softly but deftly, confident in his new body’s aesthetics and deliberately showing off. Just as he undid the last button, he caught her – her mouth slightly open, lower lip caught between her teeth in a nervous but suggestive gesture. It didn’t escape him, and his earlier dismissal of her intentions sank like a lead weight in a deep well.

  The feeling was good, and he lost himself in the moment. Every turn of this day reaffirmed that this world was his for the taking, and Adrian was ready to dive headfirst into the chances he was given. Braving emotions was now his only option; withdrawal was not. He opened his mind and let his fantasies unwind, absolutely forgetting about the life he knew before.

  Adrian’s tunic, made from the finest materials, was a masterpiece of both form and function. Crafted from the best Alvarenga cotton, it was thick yet soft, offering comfort and protection without sacrificing elegance. It had five buttons, running from neck to chest, and two more at the cuffs. It was enchanted with a Light-Absorbing spell, much like his gloves.

  For Luanda, that meant something curious. In the dim light, she could barely see his form – only the faint reflection of his face, his pupils glowing in the dark. Each button he undid revealed not just more of his body, but more of his mystery – teasing her with every motion. As a [Weaver], she could feel the fabric clinging to him, but the lack of clear sight drove her mad.

  Just as Adrian lifted the tunic over his head, he realized his mistake – he had forgotten to undo the cuffs. His face flushed slightly, and she noticed the flicker of embarrassment. Without thinking, she moved closer, touching his hands as she helped undo the final buttons.

  She savored the touch in his large hands, and once the tunic was off, she couldn’t stop herself from admiring his body. Her gaze lingered on his lean, muscular torso, each curve more captivating than the last. Adrian noticed, his breath catching in his throat. The way she looked at him wasn’t just admiration – whatever caged beast burned with lust inside him had found its mate in her, both wild things aching to break loose.

  They were so close, yet still apart. He gathered his courage and reached out, gently touching her face, guiding her wandering gaze back to his eyes. He slowly observed her apprehensive eyes, her flushed cheeks, her pulpy lips – his pulse quickening all the more.

  Luanda unconsciously stepped closer, she looked up, her cleavage brushing against his midriff, warmth spreading between them. She was sure he liked her – there never had been a real question, only her nerves creating difficulties. But she couldn’t move. This was the point of no return, and she simply lacked the courage to cross that final threshold.

  Adrian, however, couldn’t hold back any longer – and Luanda had no will to resist him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and claimed her lips in a kiss. His inexperience was undeniable, yet there was no awkwardness, only the raw urgency of their desire. Their lips met in a serpent’s coil, and they lost all sense of time as it stretched and tightened, each second feeling both too long and too short. Like a spark igniting dry brush, their passion grew quickly.

  Adrian was much taller than Luanda, and he pulled her into his arms, their kiss deepening. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he held her firmly. She kissed his neck, and he felt a tingling sensation spread through his entire body – no longer able to hide his excitement, it was literally bursting. As she lowered herself, she made him drop his pants, while Adrian fumbled to open her dress. With no intention of wasting a second, Luanda wove her magic around them, and their clothes instantly fell to the floor – Adrian fumbling to remove his boots.

  She wore no top, and her panties were in the style of the era – large, airy and white, it had a particular charm to it. She was beautiful, her ample breasts with pointed nipples, and her honeyed skin was completely natural, with no tan lines. Adrian grabbed her chest and kissed her neck, mirroring what she had done to him, and she let out a soft moan. She kissed his lips again, then took a single step back, closing her eyes. ‘What am I doing?’ she cried in her mind. But there was no controlling herself now.

  She closed the gap between them, feeling a bulge pressing against her lower belly through his soft, dark boxers. She kissed her way down his abdomen, and he instinctively tensed, every muscle in his body tightening. As she lowered further, Adrian’s body responded to the growing tension. On her knees, she removed the last of his covering and, locking eyes with him, placed her lips against the tip, teasing him with a slow, deliberate touch.

  The dim, warm light in the room cast long shadows, obscuring her full form while highlighting her beautiful face and thick legs, adding to the provocative tension of the moment. She held him at the base, her fingers tracing the outline of him as she slowly stretched his body and revealed more, her movements deliberate. Luanda’s mouth and hand teased him with each gentle stroke, making the Adrian tremble at the unfamiliar sensation.

  ‘What am I doing?’ she thought, her mind a tangle of confusion. ‘I don’t have to do this, but... why can’t I stop?’ Her body ached for release, and yet, part of her still clung to the question of what was right. ‘Why am I fighting this? Shouldn’t I just let go?’

  She stood and turned around, pressing her back against his chest. Adrian’s large hands cupped her breasts, sending a shiver through her as he kissed her neck and the small of her back. Feeling the growing pressure, she stepped ahead, and with a subtle flick of her magic, her panties fell to the floor. Slowly and sensually, she reclined on the bed, her body glistening with sweat. “Lord Adrian,” she whispered, spreading her legs, “you can take me,” her words barely audible.

  Adrian was lost in the moment, looking at her sensual femininity. Her pubic hair was short and black and took all her pelvis, her lips large and wide like the petals of an orchid, and she was open to receive him. He got closer, never breaking the visual contact, and laying over her he kissed her lips again, calmer this time; without effort he penetrated her. Her body was soft and delicate, and he had to control himself, as he felt he could break her. Her eyes were the show of a contradiction, desire and apprehension, all mixed together, so he kissed her delicately.

  As he started moving deeper, he felt a brief resistance, and Luanda let out a soft cry. For a moment, Adrian hesitated, afraid of hurting her, but her voice broke through, breathless and urgent: “Come, Lord Adrian. Please.” She no longer tried to hide it – this wasn’t mere desire. She was lost in the sensation, feeling something she had never felt before.

  Her voice, broken by desire, made Adrian’s heart beat so strongly that he could feel its rhythm pulse through his entire body. He tried to move slowly at first, savoring every moment, but soon, the overwhelming urgency of the situation overtook him. His movements became more frantic, as if he could no longer hold back, pushing into her with an overflowing intensity that threatened to spill over at any moment.

  With one hand, Luanda covered her mouth, struggling to stifle the moans that escaped her lips. The other hand roamed over his body, touching, appreciating every inch of him as if she were memorizing the feeling of him inside her. Her legs, now tightly wrapped around his torso, pulled him closer, and with a single effortless motion, Adrian lifted her entirely, his strength a reflection of the passion coursing between them. His free hand slid over her, gently massaging her breasts, teasing her nipples as they hardened beneath his touch.

  Their eyes met, and in the depths of her gaze, Adrian saw a rawness that mirrored his own. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back. “I’m going to…,” he whispered hoarsely, instinctively trying to pull away, but the moment felt too powerful to break. She wouldn’t let him go, her desire louder than any voice of restraint.

  Lost in the mounting pleasure, Luanda’s body trembled as she neared her own climax. Her legs tightened around him even more, pulling him deeper, her voice a needy whisper in his ear. “No, please, don’t stop! Inside me,” Her words – desperate, pleading – were a cry for freedom, and Adrian felt the connection deep within himself. In the intensity of the moment, the chains that had bound Luanda shattered, and the connection between them unraveled.

  As the moment passed, Luanda’s body still trembled, recovering from the overwhelming intensity. Their passion hadn’t been just a release; it had been a demolition of walls built on fear and shame. Neither could have stopped it, nor had they wanted to. They were no longer just two individuals caught in fleeting desire; they were two souls intertwined in a moment of absolute liberation.

  Her heart pounded, and her strength vanished beneath the weight of what she had done. She was a wife. A mother. And yet… She turned her face away from Adrian, her breath shaky. No, I can’t – there’s no future in this. The thought struck deep, twisting in her chest. If she let herself linger, if she looked into his eyes, she would find another reason to stay.

  “I… I need to go,” she muttered, barely a whisper.

  Before he could answer, she pulled away, scrambling for her clothes. Her hands trembled, but not from regret – regret would have been easier. She didn’t even glance back as she reached the door. Then, she paused and dared one last look. “I think your new clothes will fit just fine,” she whispered before fleeing, vanishing before Adrian could say anything.

  For a moment, he lay still, staring at the ceiling, the warmth of her body still lingering on his skin. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face. He knew exactly what she was feeling, but he would not abandon her. Because the Breaker of Chains wages war against the unseen – to break free is not to deny life’s burdens, but to bear them without being ruled by them.

  That, he had learned recently. And he was not ready to abandon this belief. Not now. Not ever.

  And then, to his own surprise, he laughed. It wasn’t a bitter laugh, not a cynical smirk – nothing like the grins he had worn his whole life. No, this was different. Genuine. His smiles had always been ironic or self-deprecating, and he burst into laughter when he realized the irony of this moment: he was more surprised by feeling happy than by fighting with swords in a world of magic.

  He ran a hand through his curly hair, still smiling as he finally pulled himself up. Luanda had run. But this wasn’t over.

  Leaving the room, this time, he found no one. Adrian needed something hot to eat. And this time, it would actually be food.