The Price of Temptation

Daphne?

Bertram rapidly searched his mind for the name, but no distinct impression emerged. He didn’t know anyone named Daphne.

The orb slowly floated from his hand, suspending itself above him. It cast a gentle, moon-like glow as the blood crystal platform beneath his feet dissolved into transparency.

Four iron chains extended from the void, binding his hands and feet. The priceless blood crystal and gold scepter fell silently into the black mist, vanishing without a sound.

Suddenly, the long-dormant chains were pulled taut by an unseen force. The rusted links hoisted a square, grayish-blue stone from the fog. As it rose to a halt before Bertram, he realized it was no stone, but a heavy, solemn iron coffin, carved with intricate patterns.

The lid opened with a resonant boom, releasing a flood of blue, ice-cold air that flowed out like water.

Within lay a girl of about sixteen. Her features were as delicate as a sculpture, and her long, dark red hair, nearly black, cascaded over her shoulders like soft silk. Her skin was a flawless, pure white, with a translucent quality that faintly revealed the dark veins beneath.

Her long, slightly curled eyelashes shimmered, resting above gently closed eyes. With her hands crossed over her chest, she slept in serene silence, as if undisturbed for millennia.

Crystalline blue solids, like ice, cradled her slender form, and dark blue roses were artfully placed in every suitable corner.

Bertram gazed at the girl, clad only in a simple white dress, and forgot to breathe.

He had never seen such a beautiful girl in his life. All words of praise and admiration felt pale and inadequate. Surely, a god with a fondness for maidens had sculpted her by hand. The barren language and imagination of mortals had finally met their defeat before a divine miracle.

And yet, Bertram felt a faint sense of familiarity.

Suddenly, it hit him. Before he was transported to this world, he had created a half-succubus female character on a private server to test an R18 mod. The name the system had randomly assigned her was Daphne.

Before he could process the thought, his consciousness began to drift into a hazy distance. His eyelids grew impossibly heavy, and he surrendered to an overwhelming weariness, closing his eyes against his will.

Darkness coiled around him from all sides, and the image of the sleeping girl in the coffin blurred and faded.

Perhaps only a moment passed, or perhaps an eternity.

He awoke with a jolt.

He opened his eyes once more.

His vision seemed better adjusted to the darkness than before. His limbs were cold and numb, and an unusual tightness constricted his chest. He couldn’t help but cough.

“Cough, cough…”

The sound that escaped was delicate and high-pitched.

‘How strange.’

He tried to raise a hand to his throat but found his arms still bound by chains. The arms, however, were much more slender than before, the skin as white as fresh snow.

That wasn’t his voice. Those weren’t his arms. They were not the voice and arms of a man.

A terrifying suspicion exploded in his mind.

“This can’t be…”

He looked down. The sight of the pale, gently swelling curves on his chest was dizzying. Strands of long, dark red hair drifted into view.

The sacred papal robes were gone. In their place was a silk dress so thin it was nearly transparent, offering almost no concealment. His most private areas were fully visible through the sheer fabric.

“It’s gone!” she shrieked in terror.

But even in such a state of panic, her voice remained melodious and enchanting. Her cries of grief and despair sounded like a gentle song, entirely devoid of any hysteria.

Her little brother, a companion for fifty years across two lifetimes, had vanished without a trace. Who could possibly accept such a thing!?

And this body… something was clearly wrong with it.

“Mmmph♡~”

A light breeze passed over her chest and under her skirt, sending a tingly, electric-like stimulus through her entire body. A strange, cute sound escaped her lips involuntarily.

‘Are normal girls’ bodies… always like this…?’

Driven by a mix of doubt and a need for confirmation, she focused her gaze forward once more. The iron coffin still hung in the air, but the person sleeping within had changed.

Neatly combed, grayish-white hair. Eyebrows as sharp as swords. A few wrinkles etched like knife cuts into his face. He wore a white and gold religious robe embroidered with the emblem of the Church of the Scorching Sun—a longsword bathed in fierce sunlight.

It was a handsome, middle-aged man, crowned with a golden cross.

This meant he was the supreme leader of one of the empire’s three major religions, the Pontiff of the Church of the Scorching Sun—His Holiness, the Pope.

Lying there was Bertram. Her former body. The character she once used.

And now, she had become Daphne, a half-succubus female character created for lewd purposes, a character with no special traits beyond a pretty face and a beautiful figure.

‘A forced character swap!?’

“Are you kidding me?” she cried in disbelief. “Give me back my body!”

But no matter how she struggled, her slender arms could not budge the chains on either side.

A profound sense of powerlessness and despair washed over her. She had grown accustomed to looking down upon mortals like an angel from her max-level vantage point, never imagining she would one day have her white wings torn from her back and be cast down from the heavens.

The iridescent light still flowed from the splendid, multicolored gem. It remained suspended coldly above her, painting the Pope’s chiseled face with its dreamlike hues.

This was a trap.

Daphne realized it all at once.

It began when she accepted the private server installation package from that mysterious account. It began when she succumbed to the temptation of installing the R18 mod. It began when she excitedly created a female character to test it.

From that very moment, she had fallen into the trap. This was simply the karmic consequence.

The coffin lid, pulled by the chains, began to slowly rise, moving to meet the coffin’s edge and gradually obscuring Bertram’s body.

“I don’t want the ‘Developer Item’ anymore! Just give me back my body!”

Her roar of anger and fear sounded more like a soft, petulant whine. Her voice was so inherently gentle and captivating that it was impossible for her to express much malice or resentment.

But it was too late for regrets. She could still see her own character stats, the lines of text popping up on a cerulean screen, officially pronouncing her inescapable, tragic fate.

[Daphne – Female – Half-Succubus (Succubus Constitution)]

[Class: None]

[Faith: None]

[Health: 100%]

[Mana: None]

[Module ‘Lab of Love’ is installing…]

[Initial Modules Loaded: Sensitivity Up, Defeat Penalty, Dreadful Harassment, Alluring Clothes, Succubus System, Sweet Dairy, Procreation]

‘Why did this damned R18 mod have to come along with me!? A weak character, a lowly race, and an R18 mod on top of it all… won’t I just get screwed wherever I go!?’

“Clang!”

With a deafening crash, the coffin lid slammed shut. Several more chains rose from the mist, wrapping tightly around the iron sarcophagus.

Then, it began to descend.

“My body…”

She could do nothing to stop it. She could only watch helplessly as the heavy iron coffin, sealing away her former shell, was lowered bit by bit with the chains, disappearing into the black mist crackling with purple lightning. It became just another unremarkable coffin in a dense, forest-like array of countless others.

Bertram was gone forever. From now on, she could only be Daphne.

The chains binding her limbs, however, did not vanish. It wasn’t over. She had a terrible premonition that something even worse was about to happen to her.

[Module: Sensitivity Up Lv. 1 is now in effect.]

[Heightened senses also mean it is easier to learn lessons from pain.]

[Subcutaneous nerves are replicating and growing. Estimated to cover the entire body. Estimated sensitivity increase to 10x initial levels. Estimated experience acquisition efficiency increased by 100%.]

Strings of text flashed across the screen, but Daphne was in no state to read them carefully.

The peculiar, radiant “ring” was no longer suspended above. It was now slowly drifting down, descending before her eyes until it was almost within her grasp.

It was still so breathtakingly beautiful. Golden filaments drifted like clouds beneath its glazed shell.

It seemed to hold every color in the world, yet belonged to none of them. Even the most learned and romantic of bards would surely find their words failing them before such a treasure.

But it continued its descent.

Past her chest, past her stomach, ever downward.

It stopped abruptly, flipped over, and finally aimed its silver-white metallic band directly at her.

In the brilliant glow, Daphne finally saw it clearly. It was no ring band at all. What she saw were two symmetrical, sharp needles, pressed tightly together. A cold glint flowed over them, sending a chill through her heart.

[Orb of Osrelian Penetration – Daphne – Binding…]

All other text on the screen vanished, leaving only this short line.

The object began to approach soundlessly, floating lazily toward Daphne. The hem of her skirt, which fell to mid-thigh, was like a nonexistent phantom before it. The orb passed through without resistance, continuing to emit its fantastic, multicolored light.

“No…” Daphne’s voice trembled.

“I am His Holiness the Pope… How could you…” She stared at the edge of her translucent silk skirt, illuminated by the orb’s glow, her eyes filled with despair and terror.

The two opposing silver needles slowly parted, like a bloodthirsty beast opening its great maw.

“Let go… let me out of here…” The chains were taut, leaving no room for her limbs to even twitch. There was nowhere to run.

“Please… I don’t want anything anymore…” Unfamiliar, hot tears streamed down her cheeks. It had been so long since she had last cried that she had forgotten what it felt like.

But the object was deaf to any threat or plea, as cold and indifferent as the gods on high.

It was closing in on a young girl’s most fragile and precious part.

Mechanically executing its pre-programmed routine, it reset its position, not too forcefully, not too gently. The needles pierced something soft and then clamped shut once more.

In that instant, it felt as though something invisible was spreading throughout the entire world.

“Guhi♡—!”

The next moment, the dark-red-haired girl, bound in chains, threw her head back and let out an incoherent, tragic shriek—a sound as sorrowfully beautiful as a swan’s final song.