The only light in the bathroom was a single candle, casting a dim, yellowish glow.
Steamy mist blurred the vision, shrouding everything in a layer of ambiguous haze.
Candlelight pierced the thin fog, falling across the Witch’s back and outlining her with a soft halo.
That was not a color any human should possess.
It was a pale violet, tinged with an eerie, bewitching glow—like the finest amethyst—enticing and deadly.
Light and shadow chased each other across that body, playing gleefully.
They sketched out slender lines—broad but not thick—tracing the deeply sunken, alluring dimples of her spine, and the waistline, clear even through the steam, brimming with explosive beauty.
The texture of her skin, set off by the shadows, blended sacredness and otherworldly charm in a paradoxical allure.
It sparked endless imagination.
And lured one to fall.
“Come here, and scrub your King’s back~”
Astreia’s voice echoed in the mist—not the clear tone from memory, but now tinged with a magnetic quality, scorched by desire.
Every word seemed like a cat’s claw, scratching at the taut strings of Wendy’s heart.
His fists, hidden beneath the water, suddenly clenched tight.
This was not an invitation, nor was it flirtation.
On the Reverse Chastity Erashia Continent, to command a male noble in such a way was to strip his dignity and pride bare, and then grind them into the mud.
The most absolute humiliation!
But…
Gulp.
A clear sound of swallowing echoed in the quiet bathroom.
Even though Wendy had lived two lives and prided himself on his broad experience, in this moment, gazing upon this living, breathing “Witch’s Bath Scene,” he still felt his mouth go dry.
His gaze slid downward, uncontrollably.
Ripples on the water faintly outlined the breathtaking curves beneath the surface.
Those long, powerful legs—even as a blurred shadow—were more stirring than any scenery he’d ever seen.
This body stepped perfectly on his lifelong aesthetic.
Indeed, Wendy was a hopeless leg man.
Yet, the sliver of noble pride he’d cultivated in this world screamed in his mind, throwing him into a mad struggle between reason and desire, a torment so intense it nearly tore him apart.
“What’s wrong? What are you hesitating for?”
Astreia turned her head with composed leisure, her bewitching violet eyes full of teasing.
“Don’t you quite enjoy being treated like this?”
“Why are you still hesitating?”
“Come now, obey your nature—please your King.”
Before her words faded, a ripple silently parted the water.
That graceful curve beneath the surface glided quietly toward him.
It didn’t touch Wendy; only the tip of her toe traced lightly along the bottom of the pool before him.
The warmth and sensation, transmitted through the water, instantly shattered all his mental defenses.
Wendy slowly closed his eyes, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
In the end, all his struggle, all his humiliation, all his resistance, melted into a barely audible sigh.
So be it…
Things are already like this—could it get any worse?
To be the dog of such a stunning beauty—what’s so shameful about that?
If you want to hunt the fiercest beast, sometimes, you must become the bait yourself.
With that thought, the Prince slowly raised his trembling hands and picked up the Sheep Wool Cloth beside him.
His movements were slow, gentle, devout—as if he were a worshipper about to ascend the altar.
Each wipe felt like he was peeling away a part of his soul, while another part—desire—grew from the depths of his heart.
But gradually, the sensation of the woolen cloth could no longer satisfy the beast roaring inside.
Wendy threw the cloth aside.
Just as Astreia was about to speak in confusion, he leaned down.
A kiss, feather-light as a dragonfly touching water, fell upon that sculpted, jade-like shoulder.
Astreia’s body stiffened in that instant.
That kiss was like a floodgate opening.
Once released, it could never be stopped.
He reverently cupped her platinum hair, desperately inhaling its scent.
Then, a second kiss, a third… followed one after another.
He no longer hesitated, no longer struggled, as if shedding all pretense, letting his most primal desires brand her flawless spine with burning kisses, one after another, down its length.
Outside Sunset Fortress, the female soldiers were still uncertain and anxious about the night’s strange events.
But inside this ambiguous bathroom, there was only a deathly silence—just the gentle lapping of water and suppressed breaths.
Here, it was a world belonging only to him and the Witch.
Wendy could clearly hear the pounding of his own heart, but he could also hear the increasingly erratic heartbeat of the person before him.
His cheeks burned; his breath was scalding.
Astreia’s gaze, almost tangible, drifted inch by inch over Wendy, stripping him bare, then turning hazy.
At last, the searing kisses passed over the soft curve of her waist and paused atop the artful arc beneath the water’s surface.
His body trembled uncontrollably, caught between humiliation and excitement.
He had no way out.
Nor did he need one.
The bath was terrifyingly quiet, only their two heavy, ragged breaths mingling in the mist.
He waited for permission.
Yet, in the midst of this torment, a strange sensation quietly rose from his heart.
He realized… he was actually enjoying it?
Enjoying this feeling of being utterly dominated, of being wantonly played with like a servant—the thrill of falling.
“Continue…”
Astreia’s voice shattered the silence.
No longer cold and domineering, but now hoarse and trembling, unable to be suppressed.
“……”
Seeing Wendy unmoving, her voice suddenly rose, but there was a hint of bluster behind it.
“Didn’t you hear me?! I told you to continue!”
Wendy’s body jerked, then moved.
He lowered his head again, kissing the line where water met skin.
At the same time, Astreia, lying at the edge of the pool, bit her lip hard, her nails digging deep into the stone bricks, fighting desperately not to let a single shameful sound escape.
But her heaving chest and trembling body had already betrayed her.
Then, suddenly, the burning kisses stopped.
Wendy, as if cradling a priceless treasure, embraced that long, graceful form in his arms, turned his face, closed his eyes, and greedily caressed the warm, delicate violet skin.
The bliss was so intense, he almost lost himself.
“Mm~~~!”
A suppressed yet soul-shaking sound escaped Astreia’s throat, startling him.
The next second, everything changed!
Astreia spun around and locked her arms around Wendy’s neck, yanking him toward her!
At the same time, her strong, shapely legs, like the toughest chains, instantly locked around Wendy’s waist, binding him firmly before her, so he could no longer break free!
In an instant, the roles reversed!
The Witch panted urgently, her violet eyes ablaze with unrestrained desire.
And Wendy, after the initial shock, did not back down—instead, he opened his arms wide and hugged her back even tighter!
Splash—!
The two, losing their balance, crashed into the water together, sinking beneath the warm surface.
Water splashed.
Bubbles churned.
Even as they choked on water, they did not part.
In this underwater world, cut off from sound and air, they were like two beasts finally freed from their cages, wildly “devouring” each other, as if to swallow one another’s soul whole.
For a long, long time.
Whoosh—!
The Witch and the Prince finally surfaced.
Both gasped for air, hair plastered messily to their faces, completely disheveled—yet their eyes still burned with the same fire.
Once their breathing calmed a little,
Astreia pressed Wendy’s shoulders down, her deep violet gaze locking onto the Prince’s face, so intense it seemed to pull him in.
With a voice hoarse to the extreme, she declared, word by word:
“Come. Follow me inside!”
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