The Dryad’s Secret and a Twisted Devotion

“The leader of the Tidesong Sisterhood, whom they call ‘Chief,’ is named Lenix. She maintains close ties with the high-ranking members of the city council, which is precisely why the sisterhood can exist peacefully within Vero City.”

“What is the background of this Lenix?”

“According to their public statements, Lenix, much like her sisters, is a pitiable human orphan. However, if we’re to believe the intelligence gathered by our Shadowscale Gang…”

Nazareth paused, a hint of smugness gracing his features.

“She is a dryad.”

“A dryad? Haven’t those creatures been extinct for ages?!”

Nazareth merely shrugged, indicating he had no idea how such a thing could be possible.

Saranya secretly wrung her hands.

Dryads, also known as forest nymphs or forest fairies—or, more plainly, forest elves—appear on the surface as exquisitely beautiful and agile young maidens. In reality, they possess lifespans spanning millennia, wield a vast array of nature-based magic, and the most formidable among them could even be considered demigods without exaggeration.

Such ancient beings were simply beyond the capacity of a mere mortal like herself to contend with.

As Saranya assessed whether their strengths were evenly matched, Kaelan, the half-elf witch, found her thoughts consumed by an entirely different matter.

“Impossible… a true dryad would never reside here… in such a foul, rubbish-strewn place…”

Kaelan lost her composure, her delicate face paling significantly, and even her shoulders began to tremble slightly, as if Nazareth had desecrated the most sacred corner of her heart.

“My dryad sisters… would never sell themselves… nor engage in such a sordid trade… You’re lying! This is impossible!!!”

“I won’t indulge your foul temper, Kaelan! Do you take me for Saranya?!”

Nazareth, angered by Kaelan’s outburst, adopted a considerably sharper tone.

“Next week, Lenix will be hosting a masquerade ball at the Tidal Mirror Hall. That will be our opportunity. You will enter separately, await my people to position themselves, and they will guide you to a private encounter with Lenix. Then, you must find a way to capture her. Afterward, my people will escort you and the captive out. It’s that simple!”

Thus, Nazareth’s plan was simple and brutal: to carry out an abduction, forcing Lenix to submit to their tyranny.

“But… why do I have to go too?”

Aivy pouted, feeling she was working for Nazareth for nothing.

“Are you foolish? You’re like a grasshopper tied to our rope; we must advance and retreat together! You betrayed them to join us, and you even cuckolded Lucius. Do you truly believe he would let you off lightly?!”

“You… how do you know all of this…?”

“Hmph, the Shadowscale Gang has plenty of power and methods! The matter is settled; I have no time for further idle talk. Farewell!”

Nazareth uttered his final words, pushed aside the curtain, and exited the room.

Seeing Kaelan’s utterly dreadful expression, Aivy had no desire to linger and prepared to rush out of the room.

“Wait.”

Kaelan halted Aivy, forcibly suppressed her own emotions, and handed over a stack of manuscripts. Written on papyrus in Elven script, the ink was still fresh, suggesting she had penned them herself.

Everyone understood the equation: Elven manuscript = magic-related = contraband.

“Take this with you and read it later.”

“This is… ‘Magic Calamity’… ‘Sanctuary’… Alright, I understand.”

Aivy skimmed through the manuscript, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. However, unwilling to further provoke Kaelan, she immediately took the manuscript, rolled it into her sleeve, and hastily departed.

The room descended into a profound silence, leaving only Saranya and Kaelan.

The curtain hung low, swaying gently, its hem scraping back and forth against the floor with a soft rustling sound that stirred a peculiar itch in Saranya’s heart.

‘The opportunity had arrived…’

“Master, if you truly can’t hold back your anger any longer—”

Saranya mustered her courage, cautiously approached Kaelan, and leaned in close to her ear.

“You can take it out on me… ♡”

“Do you take me for a fool, unable to see that you intentionally provoked me just now?”

“Master…”

Kaelan gazed at Saranya, who appeared as delicate as a small beast. The words of refusal that had been poised on her tongue transformed into a viscous glob of saliva, which she forcibly swallowed.

From Saranya’s perspective, she merely observed her master restlessly licking her lips.

“Fine… fine then, very well, you win…”

****

Kaelan, her body weary, pressed against Saranya once more. She reached out and gripped Saranya’s pale neck, her hand slowly tightening at an agonizing pace, as she tilted her head back to observe the gradual distortion of Saranya’s features.

She raised an index finger, slightly curled, and scraped her pallid knuckle across the tip of Saranya’s nose.

“Truly beautiful… Saranya.”

It was the face of a female warrior, one that would tauten with resolve when speaking of ideals and aspirations, uttering words imbued with reason. In battle, it would radiate pride, exuding a fervent expression that struck terror into her foes. Yet, when confronting subordinates in distress, that same face would soften, becoming reliable and imbued with a warm, maternal tenderness.

Now, that face was weeping, tinged with a lovely pale red, reflecting panic and pain, yet mingled with a subtle hint of anticipation and pleasure.

This was precisely the expression she most adored seeing on Saranya… this pathetic expression, belonging solely to her alone…

‘You… you’re nothing short of an addiction…’

Kaelan licked and kissed Saranya’s cheek, then pressed down onto her thoroughly drenched upper body, her nose twitching at Saranya’s pristine white armpit.

The girl’s natural scent, mingled with a faint trace of sweat, permeated her nostrils, causing a daze to flicker in Kaelan’s eyes. Involuntarily, she took a deep, sharp breath.

“Hiss—whoosh…”

“Eek… Master, I can’t take it anymore… It hurts… It hurts so much…”

Tormenting Saranya, inflicting pain upon her body, pushing her to her limits until she wept like a pear blossom drenched in rain, desperately displaying absolute submission.

Without realizing it, she had become addicted to such things…

Entirely different from the sensation of Saranya dominating her, finding satisfaction through Saranya’s torment allowed her to slowly experience a sticky, hazy pleasure during the process. It was akin to a slow-release painkiller, enabling her to temporarily cast aside her many sorrows.

All those terrible schemes, those unpleasant truths, her dryad sisters, Seviya, her childhood elf playmates, Granny Ancient Tree… All those agonizing, nightmarish childhood memories that relentlessly plagued her—Saranya could help her forget them.

Saranya’s body was truly miraculous…

Could this feeling she held for Saranya be considered love?

No, it wasn’t… Saranya, having been trained by her, was simply too alluring. Kaelan merely reveled in the exhilarating release of her desires upon her, crushing Saranya’s body and mind, watching her weep in her arms; she simply enjoyed it this way.

Therefore, Saranya was a tool for release. As a tool, Saranya held no inherent importance to her. If Kaelan wished, this tool could be replaced by Paresha, Aquilis, Vireta… it would make no difference to her whom she chose.

Yes, she had to accept this; these were her true feelings. It had to be this way…

But… where did this sense of guilt in her heart come from…? Why did her heart pound when Saranya was severely injured? Was it because she feared losing a useful tool? And why did she instinctively stop when Saranya cried out, begging her to cease? Would she truly care about the thoughts of a mere tool?

Why was she trembling so violently?

Why was she weeping now…?

She didn’t understand… She realized she understood nothing at all.

“…”

Kaelan attempted to reason with herself, employing various lines of thought to quell the frantic turmoil in her mind, but all her efforts proved futile. In the end, she could only despairingly arrive at one conclusion. She parted her lips, her tear-streaked eyes curving, revealing a desolate, wretched smile.

“I’m a pervert… I’ve gone mad, haven’t I… Haha… Saranya… I’m insane… It’s all your fault… All your fault…”

Beneath her, Saranya twisted her bruised and battered body, embracing her small master, her voice barely a whisper.

“It’s alright… Master… It’s alright… Because I, too, am a pervert… just like you…”

Kaelan shivered slightly, feeling Saranya’s warm breath against her ear.

“Hey, Master… So… it’s okay… In this filthy, trash-filled world of ours… if we ever can’t bear it anymore… let’s just satisfy each other like this, alright…?”