Chapter 26
Written by Bayzo Albion
I stood and stretched, my spine cracking as warmth from the last gulp of wine spread through me, sharpening my senses. The world came back vivid—light brighter, skin alive, desire clear.
The Baroness sat at the bed's edge, slipping on black stockings with deliberate grace, every motion slow and taunting. Her outfit wasn't clothing so much as temptation itself—lace framing her curves, daring me to look longer.
She shot me a look—direct, appraising, even a touch superior. In her eyes swirled approval, mockery, and... hunger. Her gaze dipped lower, and when she saw my body's unmistakable response, I knew: she saw right through me. Not just the physical—not just the form—but the raw impulse, the readiness, the unspoken "yes" I hadn't voiced yet.
"If nature calls... we must obey," I muttered, stepping forward.
*Stop. We have to resist temptation!* the sharp voice inside cut in. *You said it yourself: only hunger makes the taste real. You're betraying your own principles. You're slipping back into that sweet mire!*
I grinned, not breaking stride.
"You're not as dumb as I thought," I tossed back mentally. "But you're forgetting the key part."
*What?*
"The taste becomes real not from hunger... but from knowing it's forbidden fruit."
The Baroness lay back, legs parted wide, arching invitingly. She didn't beckon—she waited. And waiting was no longer an option.
– – –
I rose from the bed, stretching languidly to shake off the last remnants of sleep, then slipped into my clothes with a sense of renewed purpose. Before stepping out, I tilted the bottle back and drained the remaining wine in one swift gulp. The liquid fire spread through my veins, sharpening the world around me—the colors more vibrant, the sounds crisper, the air itself buzzing with clarity.
Wandering through the elf's house in search of something to eat, I stumbled upon Iris in the kitchen. She was a whirlwind of activity, deftly juggling sizzling pans and floating mugs with an effortless grace that spoke of years—or perhaps centuries—of practice.
Hearing my footsteps, she turned, her face lighting up with a smile as genuine and radiant as the morning sun filtering through the leafy canopy outside. Her eyes sparkled with unfeigned warmth, crinkling at the corners in a way that made her seem both timeless and utterly approachable.
"Good morning, Gandalf!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy. "I just baked a strawberry pie—it's still warm from the oven. Come sit, I'll pour you some sweet ale!"
"Thanks, but I should get going—got things to do," I replied, feigning urgency even as the tempting scents tugged at me.
"Oh, come on, at least try a slice!" There was a gentle reproach in her tone, laced with that endearing persistence. "I put my heart into it, just for you."
"Fine, fine..." I sighed, relenting as I drew closer. "I'll take it to go."
I approached the round table, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleamed like obsidian under the soft light. My hand hovered over the plates, and with a faint shimmer of magic, everything vanished—the golden-crusted pie with its juicy red filling, the steaming mugs, even the small bowl of glossy sauce. It all transferred seamlessly into my enchanted storage, leaving the table pristine, save for the empty dishes and sparkling utensils that caught the light like scattered jewels.
Iris let out a soft chuckle, undeterred, and immediately set about resetting the table. With a casual flick of her wrist, the serveware lifted into the air, enveloped in a gentle blue glow. The pieces floated gracefully, arranging themselves with a melodic chime that echoed like distant wind chimes, filling the room with a harmonious symphony of domestic magic.
"Alright, now I'm really off," I said, turning toward the door.
"Good hunting," she replied, stepping closer. Her embrace caught me off guard—firm, almost fervent, her body pressing against mine with a lingering intensity that sent a subtle thrill through me. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she pulled away and ducked under the table.
From beneath, she retrieved a heavy gray sack, bulging at the seams. The material was peculiar—smooth and faintly iridescent, with a fine, scaly texture that suggested it was fashioned from the hide of some rare, enchanted beast.
"What's this for?" I asked, surprised, as I hefted the pouch in my palm. It jingled with the unmistakable clink of gold, a satisfying weight that promised possibilities.
"For the video," she said matter-of-factly, her tone carrying that undercurrent of mischief that sent a shiver racing down my spine.
"Video...?" I echoed, the word hanging in the air as realization dawned slowly.
Iris moved to the nearby couch and picked up a magical slate—a flat mirror framed with intricate, swirling patterns that pulsed faintly with inner light. With a single tap of her finger, she awakened the artifact, and a holographic image bloomed above its surface—sharp, three-dimensional, and unnervingly lifelike.
There I was — exposed from every angle. From above, from the side, even from behind, as if unseen eyes had captured every heartbeat of that night. The memory unfolded with impossible precision: flashes of movement, the tremor of breath, the rhythm that belonged to no music but us.
It wasn't obscene; it was haunting. The kind of intimacy that burns itself into the air, impossible to erase. I could almost feel the warmth again, hear the faint echo of her voice — soft, rising, unashamed.
Each sound carried the weight of something real, something more than pleasure. It was life condensed into a heartbeat, two beings colliding until nothing else existed. And now, that moment lived on without us — a reflection stripped of modesty, shimmering in invisible hands that never should have held it.
I watched myself—hands gripping her waist with possessive strength, lips nipping at her ear, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. What struck me most was how I appeared: godlike, powerful, unstoppable. Even... handsome. Not the drab guy from my old world, but an alpha straight out of the steamiest fantasy tales, exuding dominance and allure that I barely recognized as my own.
Iris licked her lips, her gaze fixed on the screen version of herself. She turned to me slowly, a sly smile playing on her features. "Isn't it beautiful? It's rare to find a man with such an... impressive endowment."
I smirked, but inside, a storm brewed—pride swelling like a tide, mingled with a rush of exhilaration. Staring at the loop of our entangled forms, her cries of my name piercing the air, our bodies merging in unbridled desire that couldn't be hidden or denied, a thunderous thought crashed through my mind: *I earned all this gold so easily... just by being with her?*
The world had shifted irrevocably. I was no longer ordinary.
Bidding Iris farewell, I stepped outside.
I drew in a deep breath, the cool morning air flooding my lungs, cleansing away the lingering haze of sleep and the cloying wine-scent that clung to the house's walls like a memory.
I decided to stroll through the village.
The streets were narrow, paved with smooth cobblestones that clicked underfoot, lined with shops whose windows overflowed with wares—from mundane bundles of herbs exuding fresh, pungent aromas to enchanted trinkets that hummed with subtle magic, casting faint glows in shades of emerald and sapphire. I meandered between the stalls, impulsively buying odds and ends: protective charms that tingled against my skin, vials of shimmering powders that promised bursts of energy, gemstones in hues I'd never seen before, each one cool and vibrant in my palm. Collecting them soothed me, a meditative ritual of organization. I sorted everything meticulously in my spatial storage, categorizing by type and utility, reveling in the mental clarity it brought—a bulwark against the chaos of this new existence.
But as I wandered, I started to notice the glances.
They were everywhere—fleeting sidelong peeks, restrained but insistent. Whispers followed in my wake, some eyes wide with admiration, others narrowed in suspicion. I felt less like a wanderer and more like a myth whispered around campfires the night before, a figure larger than life stepping into the daylight.
*Is this because of the video?* The thought flickered through my mind, unbidden.
I pushed it aside, focusing instead on my goal. *I need to find one of those magical slates. Study it.*
A few turns later, I spotted one—a square plaque with a sleek black surface, edged in glowing runes that pulsed like veins of starlight. It was cold to the touch, almost alive, vibrating faintly in my hands as if it held a tiny, beating heart eager for connection.
Without hesitation, I purchased it. It felt... familiar, as though it had been waiting for me all along, a puzzle piece slotting into place.
The bustle around me didn't fade. Passersby gave me space but turned to watch. One even pressed two fingers to their chest in a gesture of respect, a silent salute that stirred an odd mix of unease and thrill within me. Instead of anxiety, a calm settled over me, laced with a budding excitement. The world was unfolding in new, vivid layers.
Yet, deep inside, a whisper of doubt stirred. *What if I get too caught up in all this?*
I paused, summoning the interface with a thought.