The Demonic Cave — Episode 18

But wait — weren't holy artifacts usually no bigger than a finger? Then how on earth large was the thing currently residing down there?

Libitina, who had very nearly reached down to check for herself, coughed awkwardly and quietly scooted her backside away.

If fingers were going to be used, was a man even necessary? If that alone would suffice, it seemed far more efficient to simply manage things on her own with a bit of ingenuity.

But she couldn't exactly announce to a man who had just reverently washed his hands and finished a prayer that she'd rather take care of it herself now. And since it wasn't a proven method anyway, she would accept Asselin's help for the time being, and try going solo later sometime.

While she was committing this potentially viable alternative to memory, Asselin spoke in a solemn voice.

"Give me your instructions, and I shall carry them out."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I am entirely ignorant in this field."

Libitina regarded him with a look of helpless bewilderment as he so brazenly confessed his own ignorance, then quietly averted her gaze and mumbled.

"You just… put it in."

"While I confess my ignorance, I do at least know that blind insertion is not the whole of the matter."

Thankfully, Asselin was no fool.

"Naturally. I was merely testing you."

Libitina answered quickly and moistened her lips with her tongue. Never in her life had she imagined she would be sitting in an outdoor cave, administering sex education to a holy knight….

When it came to the mechanics of coupling, she, a daughter of Catwen, was almost certainly far more learned than that fastidious man. The problem was that what they were about to do was not simple coupling at all.

How had the Saintess done it, again? She'd never witnessed it firsthand, so she couldn't be certain the process was identical to the chaotic acts she'd seen in Catwen's back alleys. The sounds, at least, had been the same.

But this was meant to relieve the Saintess's curse — was it truly supposed to proceed like ordinary intercourse? Was there some ritual involved, perhaps holding hands and praying together beforehand? If a dedicated prayer existed, there was no way she wouldn't have known it. And if any ceremony required preparation, the Saintess would certainly have told Libitina to prepare it in advance.

Libitina calmly sifted through her memories. Let's see — if she thought back to the brief fragments of conversation she'd overheard just before the door closed….

You must arouse me.

What had she phrased it as…?

Devoted service…. No, put that way, perhaps you won't understand.

"I believe I grasp your meaning, roughly."

Libitina, who had been straining to find a word precise and objective enough to explain it — after filtering out the vulgar expressions she'd learned in Catwen and the vague, roundabout phrasing the Order favored — froze and whipped her head toward Asselin.

"You understood that?"

The only words she'd actually uttered were 'devoted service.' Libitina stared at him with openly suspicious eyes.

Is he perhaps extremely well-versed in the carnal arts?

"Forgive my presumption."

Pay no mind to her doubtful stare — Asselin simply reached out. His bare hands wrapped around Libitina's waist and lifted the blanket draped over her.

"Wait — now that I think about it, this doesn't seem right."

The warmth of his bare skin against her side tickled somewhere deep. Jerking as though she'd been scalded, Libitina twisted her waist away and hastily clutched the blanket shut.

She caught sight of Asselin looking at her with a baffled expression, unable to make sense of her reaction, and coughed awkwardly, inching her hips backward little by little. The words spilling out of her in a rush tumbled into incoherence.

"I-it's a serious crime, you know, to be forced to roll around with someone you don't even want. If you make me do this, you'll incur divine punishment!"

The men Aison brought had all wept tears of gratitude at being chosen as the Saintess's night companion — not one of them had shown even a speck of reluctance. But what about now? She wasn't asking to be treated as an honor, but having to roll around with a man who approached the task under protest was unbearably uncomfortable.

Couldn't she just hold out a little longer? Sure, she'd lose consciousness, but surely she wouldn't actually die. She was the Saintess, after all? Wouldn't the divine power in her own body save her?

It saved her once — wouldn't it save her twice?

God wouldn't let a Saintess He'd gone to the trouble of awakening simply die. Especially the only Saintess left on this earth!

Libitina convinced herself with a rationalization that transcended the fear of death. Watching her quietly, Asselin narrowed his eyes.

"You said it did not matter who it was. Do you, perhaps, find me particularly distasteful?"

"It's not that. You hate me, Vice Commander. I'd rather not be struck by lightning for forcing myself on you."

"Had I not wished it, I would not have come forward."

To Libitina's ears, that was a bald-faced lie. She had seen it with her own eyes mere moments ago — the man trudging toward her bearing his troubles like a calf dragged to the slaughterhouse!

"You called it a hideous business!"

"What I called hideous was the act, not the party to it. Setting aside my personal tastes, you could not be called hideous even in jest."

Asselin delivered this without a flicker of change in his expression, then paused. Then he added an explanation in a flat, toneless voice.

"I understood this to be part of a treatment. The form it takes is regrettably offensive — that is a fatal flaw — but it is, in the end, a task that must be performed, is it not? Had another way existed, you would have told me long ago."

Libitina furrowed her brow, worked her lips a few times, and finally nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"…I suppose that's true."

"Yes. So I ask that you, as a patient, devote yourself to your own recovery."

Whether that exhortation is really appropriate given our current circumstances, though….

"…Fine, all right."

It was a process meant to eliminate her side effects, so 'treatment' wasn't an entirely wrong word for it. And thinking of it that way made the whole thing feel considerably less burdensome.

Asselin, having confirmed that Libitina had grown quiet and accepted his reasoning despite her doubtful face, carefully reached out again. This time his hand ventured beneath the blanket with somewhat more resolve. The touch of another person's hand on her bare skin was unfamiliar — but this time she didn't flinch. At her docility, Asselin moved slowly.

She had never entrusted her body to anyone before. As a handmaiden, she had attended others' baths, but never received such attentions herself. She had, admittedly, commanded a fair number of maids, but they had ultimately existed for the Saintess's sake — not to wait on Libitina. Perhaps that was why, at the mere touch of another's warmth on her bare skin, she felt as though she'd exposed a weakness, and shrank back.

Worse, her counterpart wore only a thin shirt and trousers — a posture utterly unlike hers, naked with nothing but a cloak over her shoulders. And yet she couldn't bring herself to tell the man, so gravely serious as though performing a medical procedure, to take his clothes off.

Libitina's gaze flicked to the broad pectorals faintly visible through the fabric, to the thick arm muscles peeking out despite the long sleeves — then dropped. The trousers stretched taut around his thighs looked in danger of splitting at any moment. Even from a sidelong glance, she could tell: the body hidden beneath those clothes was all thick, hard muscle.

Come to think of it, none of the Saintess Livia's night companions had been a man this large. Aison had always handpicked ones who were pleasantly lean, smooth-skinned, and skilled. Unlike their soft, supple silhouettes, the man now bending over her possessed an almost excessively unrefined frame. A savage, brutal body that didn't match his handsome face at all.

To the point of feeling threatening.

"You must have received men from the Order at regular intervals, so you will be practiced in every regard. If you notice any clumsiness on my part, feel free to point it out without reservation."

He seemed to have interpreted her uneven breathing as a kind of complaint. Unable to admit that she was merely nervous, Libitina simply bit down hard on her lip.

Asselin believed she was Saintess Livia. If anything, she ought to be relieved that he misunderstood so conveniently, interpreting her behavior on her behalf.

Still, it was no easy thing to lie here with her naked body fully exposed while he gazed at her at leisure. Worse, the man was exploring her body with an utterly grave, earnest expression — as though studying some difficult subject.

"I am going to touch your ribs now."

"…Yes."