"A curse?"
Ichika and Miku looked utterly bewildered.
They didn't even know what a "curse" meant in this world.
But Utaha and Hayasaka's expressions immediately changed.
They hurriedly turned to Roy, only to see that he was already unconscious, his skin flushed as if scalded, his fingernails clawing at his own body, leaving behind streaks of bloody scratches.
If not for the silver threads binding him, the wounds would have been far worse.
His slender, naked body made the girls blush uncontrollably.
"This curse runs deep in him—it's definitely not the first time it's flared up. Have you seen it happen before?"
Illya's gaze was cold and merciless as it swept over Utaha and Hayasaka.
"It happened once three nights ago."
Hayasaka recalled the incident—Roy had been in the storage room when the curse suddenly erupted. Aozaki Touko had carried him inside, and they had glimpsed his condition then. It had looked exactly like this.
"How was it handled last time?"
Illya's eyes locked onto Hayasaka, pressing for an answer.
"That time…"
Hayasaka fell silent mid-sentence.
Illya's brows furrowed, impatience and urgency creeping into her voice.
"Why are you hesitating? Time is of the essence. How long do you intend to let Roy suffer like this?"
"That time, Miss Touko used her body to help him vent the curse."
Utaha suddenly spoke up, drawing Illya's attention.
"Used her body…? I see. That is efficient. To think that Aozaki Touko was willing to pay such a price to relieve Roy's curse…"
Illya muttered under her breath.
Beside her, Ichika and Miku were stunned.
What?
Used her body to relieve the curse?
Vent?
It couldn't be what they were thinking, right?
Was this world's common sense a little insane?
"In that case…"
Illya thought quickly, then raised her head, her gaze sweeping over the four women before her.
"I'll take Roy to his room. In the meantime, you decide among yourselves who will accompany him."
"Let me make one thing clear—Roy might treat you like treasures, but I don't. All of you combined aren't as important as Roy. If I come back and you still haven't decided, I'll bundle all four of you up and throw you in together!"
Without another word, Illya manipulated the silver threads to lift the barely conscious Roy and carried him toward the master bedroom.
Truthfully, the most suitable candidate would have been that absurdly durable female Servant.
But she was currently bedridden with her illness, making her unfit for the task. So, Illya had to settle for these four.
In the living room, the four girls trembled at Illya's ruthless ultimatum.
Even Hayasaka, known for her composure, couldn't help but grit her teeth in frustration.
The Nakano sisters were dumbfounded. Had they escaped one den of wolves only to land in a tiger's lair?
"Have you decided?"
Illya returned swiftly.
"I'll do it."
Utaha rose from her chair.
She tried to remain calm, but her trembling legs and flushed ears betrayed her nerves.
Ichika, who had half-risen, subtly sat back down.
Miku looked at Utaha with worshipful eyes, as if she were a saviour.
Hayasaka's expression was complicated.
But she approved of Utaha's self-sacrifice.
Among them, she wasn't Roy's attendant. Ichika and Miku had only just arrived today. Only Utaha, who had been here for days, was the most fitting choice.
'Besides, Utaha owes Lord Roy a significant debt.'
Hayasaka thought silently.
If no one had stepped forward, and Illya had forced them to decide, she would have nominated Utaha.
Cold, but pragmatic.
Fortunately, Utaha had volunteered.
So, she didn't have to play the villain.
"You're quick to decide. I don't dislike your type."
A pleased smile crossed Illya's doll-like face.
She didn't seem like a twelve-year-old girl at all—more like a superior holding their fates in her hands.
"I'll dull your pain a little."
Illya stepped forward.
With a wave of her hand, Utaha felt no obvious change, save for a faint, shimmering glow enveloping her body.
Under Illya's watchful gaze, Utaha took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.
The moment she entered, the sight of vicious claw marks crisscrossing the walls startled her.
Only then did she remember—according to Aozaki Touko, Roy usually endured the curse alone. These scars were likely the remnants of his solitary battles against it.
Utaha approached the bed.
Roy lay there, completely bare, his body covered in wounds—some fresh, some old, some on the surface, others seemingly deep, long since healed.
Now, his eyes were glazed, his consciousness lost. His entire body burned red, teeth clenched as he endured the torment of body and mind alike.
Utaha bit her lip, shed her clothes, and climbed onto the bed, embracing Roy.
The faint scent of her skin filled his nostrils, the sight of her snow-white flesh stirring something primal in him. Without his glasses—his suppressors—the violent side of his psyche broke free.
He pounced, pinning her down, his teeth sinking into the delicate curve of her collarbone, his fingers leaving bruises like chains across her skin.
...
The moment Utaha's bare skin touched Roy's feverish body, his restraint shattered.
Illya's magic had dulled the pain, but it did nothing to soften the brutality of his grip. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, his nails leaving crescent-shaped indents as he dragged her beneath him. His breath was ragged, hot against her neck—a predator savoring prey.
Utaha gasped as his teeth scraped over her collarbone, not quite breaking skin but promising violence. His body was a furnace, every muscle coiled tight with barely leashed desperation.
"Roy—"
Her voice was cut off as his mouth crashed against hers, swallowing her words in a kiss that was more bite than tenderness. His tongue forced its way past her lips, claiming, dominating. She tasted copper—her own lip split under the force of his hunger.
He didn't ask. Didn't hesitate.
One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. The other slid between her thighs, fingers pushing inside without preamble.
Utaha arched, a choked cry escaping her. Illya's magic kept the pain at bay, but the stretch, the ruthless way he worked her body—it was overwhelming. His fingers curled, dragging against her inner walls, rough and unrelenting.
"You're tight," he growled, voice thick with something feral. "Too tight for what I'm going to do to you."
She barely had time to process the words before he flipped her onto her stomach, one broad hand pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her down. His knee forced her legs apart, and then—
"Ah—!"
He sheathed himself inside her in one brutal thrust.
Utaha's fingers clawed at the sheets, her vision whiting out for a moment. He was big, stretching her to the point of burning, and he gave her no time to adjust. His hips snapped forward again, burying himself to the hilt, a groan ripping from his throat.
"Fuck. You take it so well."
His praise was dark, edged with possession. One hand tangled in her hair again, pulling just shy of painful as he set a punishing pace. Each thrust drove her forward, the bed creaking under their combined weight.
She could feel the sweat-slick heat of his chest against her back, the way his muscles trembled with the effort of holding back—or perhaps, of holding on. The curse had stripped him of control, and now he took what he needed with single-minded intensity.
"Roy—slow down—"
He ignored her, his grip tightening. "No."
His teeth found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, biting down hard enough to bruise. The sharp sting sent a jolt of pleasure-pain down her spine, her body betraying her by clenching around him.
He chuckled, low and rough. "You like it rough, don't you?"
She didn't answer—couldn't. His free hand slid around her hip, fingers finding her clit and rubbing in harsh, unyielding circles. The dual sensation of being filled and teased tipped her closer to the edge, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Come for me," he demanded.
And she did.
Her body convulsed around him, a broken cry tearing from her lips as pleasure crashed over her in waves. Roy didn't stop. If anything, her climax spurred him on, his thrusts growing even more erratic, more desperate.
"Mine," he snarled, his voice guttural.
Then he was pulling out, flipping her onto her back, and dragging her legs over his shoulders. He didn't give her a second to recover before slamming back inside.
Utaha cried out, her nails raking down his chest in retaliation. The sting only seemed to excite him further. His hips pistoned into her, each stroke hitting deep, the sound of skin against skin obscenely loud in the room.
His breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide with lust. He was close—she could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered, in the way his fingers dug into her thighs hard enough to leave marks.
"Look at me," he ordered.
She did.
His gaze burned into hers as he came with a groan, spilling inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing.
Then, slowly, the haze in Roy's eyes cleared.
Utaha watched as realization dawned—as he took in the bruises on her skin, the bite marks, the way she trembled beneath him.
Horror flickered across his face.
"Utaha…"
...
Only when it was over did Utaha realize just how much Illya's pain-numbing magic had helped.
Roy in his frenzy had been relentless, as if her well-being meant nothing.
'You're worse than a dog!'
Utaha glared at the marks covering her body, the lingering ache making her grit her teeth.
Even a dog would be gentler!
***
By the time the sun reached its zenith, Utaha finally emerged from the bath, steam clinging to her skin.
Her body was a canvas of love bites, dark bruises, and faint bloodstains.
Had Illya's magic not still been in effect, she doubted she could even stand.
Frankly, it had been a terrible first experience.
Hayasaka was in the kitchen preparing lunch.
The Nakano sisters were cramming on this world's common sense under Illya's indifferent tutelage.
"Servants—familiars formed from heroes of history…"
When Miku heard this, her entire demeanour brightened.
"Then… Lord Roy's Servant, that sickly Miss Okita… is the real Okita Souji from history?"
"That's right."
Illya nodded lazily.
Miku practically vibrated with excitement—but then confusion set in.
How could Okita Souji be a girl?
When Utaha appeared, Illya, in recognition of her "meritorious service," gave her a rare, approving nod.
"Oh-ho! Been a few days, and the family's grown again, huh?"
Just before lunch, Aozaki Touko returned.
***
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