Chapter 492: 492. Pleasure
The sunlight barely reached the frozen wasteland, its pale rays scattering weakly across the snow. Between two colossal rocks half-buried in frost, a hidden cave yawned, sheltering two weary figures.
Inside, the chill was cut by the faint warmth of an improvised fire. A young man stirred awake, wincing as pain coursed through his battered body. He blinked, trying to recall how he had ended up here.
The first thing he noticed made his eyes widen in shock. His hands were tightly bound, and aside from a few scraps of cloth hastily covering his most private area, he was utterly bare.
"Huh?!" His voice cracked. Panic flared across his face. "Did that bounty hunter girl... u-use my body as a payment while I was unconscious? Aaaah!" He groaned, his imagination already running wild.
Pew!
A searing beam of plasma hissed through the air, grazing his ear and scorching the stone wall behind him. Though it hadn’t touched him, he felt the heat singe the hairs on his skin.
"Stop blabbering nonsense," a sharp, irritated voice cut through the cave. "You don’t remember what happened yesterday?"
The boy turned his head. There she stood —short orange hair that caught what little sunlight filtered into the cavern, sharp eyes glowing with vigilance, and her lion-headed gauntlets faintly steaming from their recent discharge. The girl who had saved him.
"Y-You mean... yesterday?" He struggled to piece it together. Images flashed in his mind: the swarm of insects, a mocking voice promising him death, and then... her —this strange girl appearing from the snow like a Phantom of fire and steel. He remembered collapsing, being carried, and then... blankness. His brow furrowed. Why did he feel like his body had been dancing naked even while wracked with pain?
Yumina folded her arms, unimpressed.
"Look over there."
She gestured with her gauntlet.
Luman followed her gaze. At the far end of the cavern stood the weathered remains of a statue. Its head was gone, and half its torso shattered, but the contours of its figure were unmistakable— a naked woman, her posture frozen in a sensual yet commanding stance. Even broken, the aura it radiated made his skin prickle.
"This cave is part of an ancient temple," Yumina explained coolly. "Last night you were dancing in front of that statue. Completely naked. I had to knock you out and tie you up because I wasn’t sure if you’d been possessed."
Luman’s face turned crimson. "D-Dancing? Naked?! No wonder my body hurts all over..." He muttered, half mortified, half bewildered. After a pause, he collected himself. "That statue... it should belong to the Elf Ancestor. If so, this place must’ve been a temple built by the Lizard Elves long ago."
He bowed his head lightly toward Yumina. "Thank you for saving me. I’m Luman."
"Yumina. Bounty hunter," she replied briskly.
He frowned, trying to recall more. "Yesterday, I heard... an ancient sigh. A woman’s voice. After that, I felt this strange happiness, like a haze wrapping around me." His words faltered, embarrassment creeping back into his tone.
Yumina’s gauntlets gleamed as she raised one, the lion’s maw steaming faintly. "Speak. All of it."
Luman gulped. "I felt... compelled to show off my body to the Ancestor Elf. Like... like she deserved to feast her eyes on me." He spoke in a low, ashamed tone, every word heavier than the last.
Then his expression cleared with sudden clarity. His eyes met hers, filled with unease. "But that’s impossible, isn’t it? She perished two million years ago. Why am I still hearing her sigh? That voice—it had to be hers."
For the first time, Yumina’s playful sharpness gave way to solemnity. Her gaze lingered on the ruined statue as she answered, "For a figure as formidable as her, death doesn’t erase everything. Even if their body is destroyed, fragments of will, fragments of desire—those things linger. Like a corpse that refuses to stiffen."
The cave seemed to grow colder at her words. The broken statue loomed over them, as if listening.
Luman shivered and tugged at his bindings. "I-I get it. Really, I do. Now, can you please untie me? My hands are chained, and I can’t even circulate my prana due to injures. Also if possible can you escort me to my place, I will pay you."
Yumina studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes betraying a trace of doubt. Then, with a flick of her wrist, the lion gauntlet’s maw hissed. A compressed water bullet, sharp as a blade, shot out and struck the chain.
Crack!
The links shattered, scattering into fragments across the cave floor.
"Get dressed," Yumina ordered, already turning to leave. Her tone left no room for argument. "We’re done here. The desert’s behind us —we move forward."
Luman scrambled to cover himself with what remained of his clothing, his heart still pounding. He cast one last glance at the broken statue. For a moment, he could almost swear he saw a curl of mist escape its stone lips, like a sigh slipping free of time itself.
┉┈ ◈ ◉ ◈ ┈┉
Tyler looked like a man in his early forties now. Time and countless journeys through ruins and forgotten catacombs had etched wisdom into his face, but his sharp eyes still gleamed with the same vigor they held in his youth. He was inside his archaeologist’s laboratory, a place filled with relics of ages long gone. Strange masks, shattered tablets, and glowing gemstones sat neatly arranged on oak shelves. The scent of old parchment, oil lamps, and faint incense filled the air.
He stepped inside holding a delicate Phoenix Hairpin in his hand. Its craftsmanship was exquisite—golden threads shaped into flames, with a faint warmth radiating from it as though it still carried some trace of its mythical origin. Tyler pushed open the door to his office. Waiting nervously on the chair was a young woman, her posture rigid, her gaze darting about the room.
"Miss Lisa," Tyler said with calm authority as he placed the hairpin on his desk. "This piece is authentic. A good find. Its worth is one thousand gold coins."
Lisa’s eyes widened, relief and excitement mixing in her expression. A thousand gold coins was more than enough to change her circumstances. Yet as she clutched the hem of her dress, her lips trembled as though she had more to say.
She drew in a shaky breath. "I have... another request, Mr. White."
Tyler raised an eyebrow, curious. "Yes?"
Lisa lowered her head, her voice barely audible. "Can I... be a prostitute one last time?"
The room fell silent. Tyler stared at her, trying to read the emotions behind her words. Desperation? Longing? Or perhaps a strange need for closure. He gave no answer, but that night the two of them shared a bed.
---
The next morning, Tyler awoke with sunlight spilling through the curtains. Lisa lay beside him, her breathing soft, her body curled toward him. For some reason, he felt a strange emptiness, as if something precious had slipped away from his grasp, though he could not recall what it was.
Months passed. Life moved on.
One afternoon, Howard—Tyler’s young assistant—entered the lab with a bright smile. "Sir, I’d like you to meet my fiancée."
Tyler turned, and his heart skipped a beat. Standing beside Howard was Lisa. Her dress was finer now, her demeanor more refined, but her eyes... those eyes still carried the memory of that night.
Neither Tyler nor Lisa betrayed a hint of recognition. They played their roles perfectly, smiling politely as though they were strangers. But when Howard left the room, Lisa came back later, quietly slipping into Tyler’s home. No words were exchanged. They both knew why she was there. The silence between them was heavier than speech as they walked straight to the bedroom.
As they indulged in each other’s embrace, the door suddenly slammed open.
Howard stood there, a knife clutched in his trembling hand, his eyes burning with betrayal and hatred. Tyler froze, his mind spinning. But Lisa... Lisa did not stop. Her movements became even more fervent, as if to drive Howard deeper into madness. The sight was unbearable.
---
Years blurred into one another.
Now Tyler found himself inside a swaying wagon. His body was entangled with Lan Xuero, her figure pressing down on him with heated passion. Outside the open door of the wagon stood Lan Yi, spear in hand, his face twisted with rage as he beheld his wife with another man—his own junior brother.
But Lan Xuero didn’t care. She only moved faster, her body driven by an unrelenting hunger. Tyler lay there in shock, unable to understand what was happening.
Then the world around him shifted.
One by one, scenes unfolded before his eyes. In each, women from his past appeared—faces he knew, voices he remembered—but the way events played out was twisted, corrupted.
He saw himself murdering Isha’s husband, dragging her into his arms as she screamed in despair. He saw the burned remains of the Fun Streak Circus, where Amber clung to him in tears while a dying clown spat blood and curses at his feet.
"Heh... well played, Tyler..." the clown rasped, coughing until the dagger in his chest rattled.
"Why?!" Amber screamed, her face streaked with tears as Tyler was pounding her from behind. "He took care of me after his brother died! Why would you do this?"
Tyler tried to speak, but his words never left his throat.
The world shifted again.
Now he was in a pink room, handcuffed, his body trembling under the touch of three shadowy figures. They licked at his skin, their tongues hot, their whispers intoxicating. He could not see their faces, only the overwhelming pleasure that surged through him.
A voice echoed in his ears, soft and devilish.
"Maybe everything was real... and you only twisted it with your own doubts. Isn’t this what you truly wanted?"
His heart wavered. The shadows pressed closer. But then... they froze.
The three figures shuddered, their shapes dissolving into mist. In their place appeared Mana, floating above him, her presence radiant and unyielding.
"Wake up!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the illusion like a blade.
Tyler’s eyes snapped open.
He was back in his bed, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest.