Chapter 61: The Witch’s Taste

“The taste of a witch… truly delightful.”

Rodd’s words echoed in the air, seemingly a casual remark, yet perhaps holding a deeper, pointed meaning?

I didn’t understand, but a sudden, ominous premonition surged within me. It felt like walking alone in the dead of night, only to be struck by a sudden, chilling gust of wind.

The taste of a witch?

Talking about witches?

Me?

“Miss Lilian… do you know what a witch is?”

Rodd’s voice suddenly rang out again. He turned, his gaze, imbued with an imposing dignity, bore down heavily upon me.

For some inexplicable reason, I felt the surrounding air grow oppressive and thick, creating a suffocating sensation that made it difficult to breathe.

Was it merely an illusion?

I couldn’t be sure, but I felt my fingers begin to tremble uncontrollably, and even my voice quavered as I spoke:

“I… I’m not entirely sure, but from what I know, witches seem to be… people seduced by demons, right?”

“Correct.”

Rodd nodded affirmingly, taking a firm step closer to where I stood.

“And what else?”

His voice sounded again, a questioning tone that brooked no argument.

“What else? Uh… oh, right, I remember a common saying: demons seem to have a particular fondness for human women, always luring them into depravity with promises of eternal youth and other miraculous effects… Is that… is that right?”

I racked my brain, trying my best to answer his question.

“Correct, and what else?”

He took another step toward me, his figure appearing impossibly tall against the light behind him, casting an invisible pressure upon me.

“Wh-what else? Is there anything else?”

I wracked my brain, trying to recall more information about witches.

“There is.”

He took yet another step, each one seemingly striking against the unease in my heart, making it pound like a war drum, growing ever more frantic.

A sense of indescribable tension seized me, to the point where I dared not meet his gaze. I merely responded casually, attempting to mask the turmoil within:

“Well… I only remember you telling me before that those witches are all exceptionally beautiful women… Is that… is that right?”

“Correct.”

A gentle yet firm pressure suddenly graced my cheek, slowly drawing my averted gaze back, forcing me to face the man.

“Just like you.”

“…Ah?”

My body instinctively gasped.

In that moment, I finally realized how close the man’s face was to mine—so close I could distinctly feel his breath, warm and slightly hurried.

His brown eyes met mine, still and resolute, so near that I could even discern the petal-like patterns of his irises.

I involuntarily held my breath, feeling my heart accelerate with each beat, as if responding to his unwavering gaze.

“Like… like whom? Uh… me? H-huh?”

I laughed awkwardly, a smile plastered on my face, even as a fine sheen of sweat broke out on my back. A tangled web of tension and confusion enveloped me completely.

I felt utterly bewildered, my voice laced with a tremor:

“Are you… complimenting me?”

“What do you think?”

Rodd’s voice was low and magnetic. He didn’t remove his hand from my cheek; instead, he slowly caressed it, his movements gentle and delicate, as if handling a precious piece of porcelain.

His fingertips brushed lightly against my skin, each touch sending a jolt of electricity through me, making me tremble involuntarily. Yet his gaze remained intense, as if probing for the deepest secrets of my heart.

‘Is this man suspecting me of being a witch?’

The thought leaped into my mind, filling me with a sense of helplessness.

To be honest, I didn’t even know if I was a witch myself. After all, I didn’t wield strange dark magic like Lulu, nor did I possess formidable strength like Mankha. Aside from this alluring, foxy face, I didn’t seem to have anything in common with witches.

But then again, I truly didn’t understand the definition of a witch; I had no idea what kind of existence they truly were.

If merely being a female human who had dabbled in some mysterious, wondrous power was enough to qualify as a witch…

Then perhaps… I was half of one?

Unsure of his intentions, I pondered for a moment before speaking softly:

“Are you… suspecting me of being a witch?”

The moment the words left my lips, I gently leaned my face against his hard, rough palm, casting an innocent and docile gaze, like a wounded fawn seeking understanding and protection.

I knew well that such an expression often held more power over men than any words.

Having once been a man myself, half a lifetime had given me a deep understanding of male preferences.

Most men didn’t seek out overtly sensual or worldly women. Instead, they yearned for those who appeared pure, innocent, and naive.

Perhaps it was the regret of never having attained such a thing in the past, but this pure, ‘white moonlight’ kind of beauty seemed to be every man’s dream.

Since Rodd was also a man, he should be the same, shouldn’t he?

Indeed, although Rodd’s composure remained outwardly calm, I still caught a fleeting change in his brown eyes.

It was an undeniable flicker of emotion, a deeply touched sentiment.

‘Oh~ So this guy really falls for that, huh?’

A surge of schadenfreude washed over me; I felt as if I had stumbled upon his secret.

“Hmph…”

Rodd suddenly let out a soft snort.

“Judging by your expression, you think you’re disguising yourself well? Unfortunately, while you might fool those who haven’t encountered a witch before, your pretense is meaningless in front of me.

“In truth, I harbored some suspicions about you from the very beginning. I always felt your demeanor was different from ordinary women. At first, I dismissed it as a mere illusion, but your behavior this morning…

“Heh heh… it merely confirmed my conjecture.”

“Th-this morning?”

I feigned confusion and ignorance, a wave of panic surging within me.

“Did I… do something?”

I genuinely had no idea what had happened that morning. All I knew was that I’d drunk some kind of potion, then came to this room intending to seduce him, and then… I got my period?

“You don’t remember? Then…”

Rodd subtly raised an eyebrow, moving his hand from my cheek down to my shoulder. He gently pinched a corner of my nightgown and began to pull it downwards.

“And now?”

“Eh—”

I suddenly realized that the clothes I was wearing were clearly not my size; they were far too loose, hanging loosely on my body.

With a gentle tug from Rodd, the garment slipped from my slender shoulders, revealing my smooth, rounded skin.

The fabric brushed lightly against my skin, bringing an indescribable sensation, followed by a rush of exposed panic and discomfort.

At the same time, I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t wearing a bra. If my clothes were taken off now…

The thought sent a jolt through my heart!

“Master, wait—”

A blush of nervous crimson involuntarily spread across my cheeks. I instinctively reached out to grasp the edge of my clothes, trying to prevent them from slipping further.

But my clumsy movements and strength were clearly no match for the man before me. In the next moment, Rodd easily tore off my clothes, like a leopard seizing its prey, and fiercely pinned me onto the bed.

That eager, almost bloodthirsty expression seemed eerily identical to how he’d looked not long ago.

“And now?”

📚 Also on NHV Novels

Bound by Fate, Claimed by Love

BLDramaFantasy

Read Now →
Not interested