Veron’s mansion was surrounded by a dense barrier, so breaking in was difficult, but the brothel was a different story. Security was relatively loose, and the odds of him carrying a weapon inside were low. So I decided to dispose of Veron inside the brothel.
Using Stealth and Locksmith, I slipped easily into the room Veron was using.
Veron froze the moment he sat up in bed. There was an unfamiliar presence. An indescribable pressure pushed down on his skin. Instinct reacted first. He grabbed the dagger hidden under his pillow and threw it. But the blade turned to ash before it could reach its target. Black flames wrapped around the dagger and burned it up completely.
Black fire.
A demon.
“Who’s there?”
Veron asked low, picking up another sword he’d buried in a pile of clothes. He never went anywhere completely unarmed. Instead of answering, the shadow moved. A black robe grazed the floor.
Veron instinctively stepped back. He’d interrogated, tortured, and killed countless demons, but this one was cut from different cloth. Undeniably strong. And yet no demonic energy could be felt. Veron knew the name of the man in front of him. Because there was only one demon corps commander in the world who gave off no demonic aura. A one-of-a-kind, and therefore all the more dreadful, being. Veron ground out his name.
“...Shane.”
Veron moved first. The dagger flashed and went for Shane’s neck. A fast, precise thrust, but the target was already gone. The blade cut through empty air.
The moment he turned to look behind him, Shane’s foot slammed into Veron’s side. Veron’s body hit the wall and bounced off. His breath was knocked out of him. Even so, he ground his teeth and reset his stance. The divine power distinctive to inquisitors filled the room like an aurora. Light flashed and tried to pen Shane in. Binding and purification: the optimal combination for dealing with a demon.
But the light didn’t reach. Black flames spread along the floor and gnawed the incantation apart.
“Damn it!”
Veron cursed and charged. The dagger went for Shane’s heart. This time he was certain it would connect. The distance and the timing were perfect.
But his wrist was caught. The strength that came through the leather glove wasn’t human. The dagger fell from Veron’s hand. A blow followed. Shane’s fist drove into Veron’s stomach as if punching through it. With the sound of bone ringing, blood burst out of his mouth. The edge of a sword came down on Veron’s shoulder.
Veron staggered back. His body no longer obeyed him. Shane didn’t bother pursuing. He came closer, one leisurely step at a time.
“For someone who’s interrogated so many demons, you don’t seem to know what real terror actually is.”
The low, soft voice rang out. An invisible pressure crushed the inside of Veron’s head. His soul was being drawn out. Unable to even scream, Veron sank to his knees. A black shadow blocked out his sight.
“I won’t kill you. Souls have to be taken from the living.”
Shane whispered gently. Veron’s body convulsed. And a moment later, the focus left his eyes. After the soul was pulled from him, all that remained was a body soaked in blood. The room fell quiet again. Shane looked down at his blood-spattered clothes.
Creak. The sound of the door opening cut through the quiet. A prostitute who worked at the brothel stuck his head partway in and, at the sight of the fallen Veron, was shocked. He was a delicate, slight beauty. The mole at the corner of his mouth was captivating. There were bruises on his face that hadn’t yet faded, and clear rope marks on his wrists. A split lip told exactly what sort of treatment he had been getting.
The instant the man was about to scream, Shane quickly covered his mouth.
“Ten minutes from now. If someone gets a healing potion into him within that time, he lives. Any longer than that and he dies. The choice is yours.”
Shane recited it low. The man looked up at Shane with wet, welling eyes. When his mouth was released, he stammered in a hoarse voice,
“Thank you, for, saving me, from Veron...”
He opened a drawer, took out spare clothes and perfume, and held them out to Shane. Meaning: change out of the blood-soaked clothes and cover the smell.
Shane took them without a word. What that beauty would do next was self-evident. Apparently Veron was fated to die tonight, without receiving treatment.
Theo hadn’t been sleeping. He’d only been pretending. Once he’d confirmed that Rihen was carefully rising from the bed and heading out, he killed his own presence as best he could and followed at a set distance. He softened his footsteps and even regulated his breathing so as not to be caught. And still he lost Rihen. His movements were quick. He moved silently and lightly, exactly like the wind.
Theo wandered for a while with no set destination, and in the end he headed toward the brothel. He hid himself in the bushes nearby and waited silently for someone to come out. Time stretched long. The night air was frigid, and every breath in cooled his lungs.
At some point, a thought struck him. What am I doing right now? There’s no proof at all that Rihen went in there. He was just having strange delusions on his own, suspecting Rihen on his own, blindly wasting time. It was foolish.
Right. Let’s go home. Let’s stop suspecting Rihen.
Just as Theo was about to take a step, the door opened. Light from the brothel spilled into the darkness. Between the swinging doors, Rihen appeared. Theo froze on the spot.
Rihen’s clothes had changed. It was hard to see clearly since he had a robe on, but the outfit he wore was different from what he’d had on when he set out. Not the rough-textured everyday clothes he liked, but something bright and showy. Theo knew instinctively that it wasn’t Rihen’s choice. Someone at the brothel had made him put it on. To match a client’s taste.
Rihen passed by Theo, hidden in the bushes. He smelled of a strong perfume. Musk drifted at the tip of Theo’s nose. There were plenty of perfumes made from musk, but this one was uniquely powerful and alluring. Theo knew what that scent was. It was the perfume they used at the brothel. When he’d been working at the tavern, there had been several customers who wore the same fragrance. Those customers linked arms with their companions and gave charming, smiling glances. His head was pounding as if it might split. It wasn’t because of the perfume.
Theo went into the bedroom ahead of Rihen and pulled the blanket up over his head as if nothing had happened, pretending to sleep. A few minutes later Rihen came in. He went into the bathroom, washed himself thoroughly, and changed into comfortable sleepwear. The clothes he’d gotten at the brothel went into the fireplace as fuel. He dropped down onto the bed beside Theo. Then he turned over, hugged Theo tightly, and fell asleep.
Rihen’s arm wrapped around Theo’s waist, and his chest touched against Theo’s back. It was familiar warmth. The same protective hold as always. He still faintly smelled of that perfume. Nausea churned in Theo’s stomach. What Rihen had done at the brothel, what had happened to him... every kind of ill imagination swelled in size.
He wanted to check the state of Rihen’s body. If he saw it, he felt he’d be able to guess what had been done to him.
Just checking.
Theo moved carefully so as not to wake Rihen. As he undid the buttons of his pajamas one by one, bare skin came into view. The well-kept lines of his body were white and firm. Holding his breath, Theo carefully felt over the chest and belly. The heat under his fingertips was fever-hot.
He couldn’t feel any particular marks. Fortunate. At least there were no traces visible from the outside. But he couldn’t be entirely at ease. The client that night might have been one who didn’t leave marks.
He pulled the trousers and underwear down. Even without being erect, a fairly sizable cock lay slack. As he noticed every time he saw it, Rihen’s cock was straight and its color was clean. There was almost no body hair. He slid down along the perineum and felt at the hole in the back. It was still primly shut. So he used the front, then? His was a face there would be demand for whether from women or men. He was handsome, at the very least.
When he closed his hand around the cock and worked it, it hardened in no time. Pre-cum trickled out. He put more force in and shook it harder. Ngh, hn. Rihen let a small moan in his sleep. Even so he didn’t wake. He must have been thoroughly tired.
Come burst from the tip of the head. It smeared Rihen’s chest and thighs. His face flushed even redder than Rihen’s, Theo tasted the come. It was thick, as though he hadn’t come in a long time. Theo realized, at some point, that his own cock was so hard it hurt.
He spread Rihen’s come along the inner grooves of his thighs. He drew Rihen’s legs together and hooked his calves over his own shoulders. His stiffly swollen cock slid in between the tightly closed thighs. Firm muscle squeezed his shaft with pleasant tightness. He knew this wasn’t right. He was aware it was a bad thing to do. The fact that he hadn’t used the hole was the last shred of conscience.
“Rihen, hn, Rihen, why...”
I want to know about you. Where he went every night, what he did. Whether he really did sell his body. No, that Rihen made his money by selling himself was a fact that was all but impossible to deny.
If that’s true, then who’s the partner? A woman? A man? Or was sex irrelevant as long as it paid? If he uses the front, does he sway his hips in a haze of desire like I’m doing now? If it’s the back, does he pant while spreading his hole open in front of the customer’s eyes?
Why did he make this choice? When did he start throwing his body around so carelessly? What kind of moment or wound stood at the start of that... I want to know all of it.
You’re always smiling. That smile of yours, so deeply creased your eyes disappear, is lovable, and at the same time a little suspect. What you’re hiding behind that smooth face, I have no way of knowing.
Come to think of it, I know almost nothing about you. Even the name “Rihen,” I can’t be sure whether it’s real or fake. You’ve never told me about your past, or your true feelings, either.
And still I like you. I want to look through every last corner of your heart. To dissect the thoughts and feelings hidden in layer after layer and, in the end, hold every one of them in my hand.
Even knowing it was selfish, that perhaps it was a bizarre kind of greed, he couldn’t stop the feeling.
Theo shook his hips like a dog. The insides of his thighs, no, of Rihen’s thighs, grew hot with friction. From the reaction, Rihen’s body kept getting pushed forward. His head was about to bump against the headboard, so Theo grabbed him by the waist and dragged him back down. The shaft caught between his thighs shuddered.
In the end come dirtied Rihen’s lower belly. The sight of that finely built stomach smeared with his own release was obscene. Theo stared at that painfully lewd scene for a long time.
And then Theo made up his mind. To collide head-on with Rihen’s secret. If you had questions, you were supposed to ask them yourself, weren’t you?
He steadied his breath, climbed down from the bed, and looked for a towel. He had to wipe Rihen clean. As if nothing had happened.
Evil Points (Theo) +600p
An unmistakable trace remained, in the form of a notification window, but there was no way Theo could know about it.
Back to the present.
Shane worked out his own theory for the reason behind the newly stacked 600p.
...He must have kissed me twice!
It was a judgment based on the original game’s Theo, but in this reality it was completely off the mark.
