The Art of Intimidation and Camellia Oil

Iordera felt a sudden urge to flee.

She had been duped; this money was proving far more troublesome than it seemed.

“Bound and whipped? A hand severed? Achilles tendons cut, leaving you to crawl on the ground for the rest of your days?”

Iordera’s expression remained utterly blank.

Thankfully, these threats sounded rather mundane, akin to being struck by a truck and sent flying.

“Or perhaps, stripping you bare, fastening a collar around your neck, and then—forcing you…?”

The white-haired Iordera unconsciously twitched her lips.

The girl chuckled, “So this is what truly frightens you? Unafraid of death, yet terrified of being taken? How utterly pure, my dear.”

Iordera touched her small nose, casting her gaze downwards. “In any case, once these few days are over, I’m gone. I’ll slip through a portal, and you won’t ever find me.”

“Heeheehee haha, don’t be so naive, my dear,” the girl purred, licking her lips. “I told you, I remember you. I remember your scent. I’ll follow the shampoo fragrance from your baths, no matter where you go…”

She sniffed the air, her senses keen. “Mmm~ what a sweet and delicious aroma, emanating from…”

Her words abruptly ceased, and the girl’s expression suddenly turned peculiar. “Camellia oil? You bathe with that stuff?”

Iordera, unable to comprehend her words, raised an arm and sniffed it.

It smelled quite fragrant. ‘Indeed, girls are always so soft and sweet-smelling,’ she mused.

The girl, encircled by chains within her prison, fell silent, seemingly struck by confusion.

As her captor remained quiet, Iordera regained her composure, a surge of indignant defiance swelling within her.

‘Blast it all, I used to be a seven-foot tough guy, the kind whose blood wouldn’t cool even after ten years of drinking ice water. How could I let a frail girl push my buttons for so long?’

“You’re done talking, aren’t you?” Iordera declared, stepping forward. “Because now it’s my turn!”

The grey-haired girl raised an eyebrow.

“Look at you, babbling on and on, making yourself out to be some mysterious, powerful figure. It might scare ordinary people, but it won’t work on me,” Iordera stated, placing her hands on her slender waist. “It’s just psychological profiling, isn’t it? I can do that too!”

As she spoke, she took a few deliberate steps by the cell door, her small feet tapping with an air of practiced authority.

“You, this prisoner, bound and strictly guarded, may have committed heinous acts in the past, just as you threatened me. But now, your fangs have been pulled; you can do nothing. Without me to bring you food, you wouldn’t even eat.”

Iordera held up a small finger, waggling it before the girl, an expression of profound wisdom gracing her features.

“As for everything you’ve just said to me, either you’ve lost your mind and are venting your madness on someone, or you have ulterior motives. In the latter case, you’re trying to psychologically crush me, make me lose my composure and judgment, and then subtly guide me to do certain things, indirectly helping you escape, correct?”

The grey-haired girl’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You’re quite clever, aren’t you?”

“Oh, it’s not cleverness so much as extensive experience,” Iordera hummed, a small burst of pride blossoming within her. “Let me tell you, I’ve encountered your type before. I’ve met someone named Hannibal, whose methods were similar to yours, but their level of finesse was far superior.”

“First, intimidate the target; then, on the second meeting, offer kindness—the carrot and stick approach. After that, you sit down, chat, share confidences, and finally, inject a touch of ambiguity, all in one smooth, well-practiced sequence. Setting everything else aside, let’s just talk about intimidation,” Iordera pressed, “Does he eat people? Do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Exactly. That’s why you haven’t scared me. You’re leagues behind Hannibal.”

‘Iordera mused, ‘Even if I haven’t eaten pork, I’ve certainly seen pigs run.’ While she hadn’t personally encountered such individuals, she had, at the very least, watched plenty of movies. All sorts of deviants populated those highly-rated classic crime films.

‘Having been through countless battles, she had seen it all.’

“I understand.”

The girl gave a slight nod, then picked up her meal tray and began to eat. Iordera, feeling utterly satisfied, found a chair outside the cell and settled into it.

‘Why couldn’t it have been this simple from the start? Honestly.’

Having finished her dinner, the girl placed the tray back. As Iordera came to collect it, the girl spoke aloud:

“My name is Hecate. I believe you’ll want to inquire about it.”

Iordera paused, slightly taken aback.

‘What does that mean? Is she someone important?’

“We’ll see each other tomorrow. You should be off work now,” the girl said gently.

It was true; her shift had ended. Iordera collected the plates and headed out, her mind not dwelling too much on the encounter.

‘So she’s someone important? So what? It’s no big deal.’ She decided she would simply inquire about Hecate tonight, and then tomorrow, upon her return, she would declare, ‘I know who you are, XXX. Who exactly are you trying to scare?’

Returning the plates to the kitchen marked the completion of her day’s work.

When Sir Olcott, the Black Knight, handed her payment, he casually inquired, “No problems, I hope?”

“None at all, everything went smoothly.”

With her payment in hand, Iordera happily returned home. The hour was already late; her two maids had finished their meal and were now lounging on chairs, lost in thought.

“Nina, Yuna, I’m back,” Iordera called out, tucking her gold coins into her money pouch before heading towards the bath chamber. “Please warm up my dinner!”

“Of course, Young Miss,” Nina replied languidly.

Working hard outside, returning home with a handsome wage, enjoying a comfortable bath, and having maids warm her meal—this life was simply too blissful.

“This is truly wonderful, living in another world is truly wonderful.”

Iordera quickly washed herself. Though she had never been a girl before, bathing herself presented no major issues, for one couldn’t—and shouldn’t—harbor any particular thoughts about their own body.

Besides, with so much steam in the bath chamber, it was impossible to see clearly anyway.

The texture, however, was quite pleasant; this body’s skin was even fairer and smoother than an ordinary person’s, feeling like a bar of wet soap to the touch.

‘Camellia oil? You bathe with that stuff?’

Suddenly, the grey-haired girl’s words came to mind, and Iordera raised her arm to her nose, sniffing it carefully.

A faint, pleasant floral tea scent indeed emanated from it.

After her bath, Iordera changed into a silken dress for lounging at home, then sat at the dining table and asked her maids, “What exactly is camellia oil?”

Yuna yawned, offering no reply. Nina, however, roused herself with a struggle, saying weakly, “Camellia oil is used for maintaining alchemical products, for lubricating axles and such. It’s quite expensive and generally not very effective, inferior to other cheaper oils. Its only advantages are its cleanliness and pleasant scent.”

“Then why would it be on me?”

“Is it? Well, if it is, it is,” Nina said indifferently. “Mrs. Sanders was responsible for your upkeep before; she must have applied it.”

So that was the explanation. No wonder the grey-haired girl had looked so perplexed; this stuff wasn’t even meant for human use.

“Nina, could you inquire about one more thing?”

“Young Miss, it’s quite late tonight, and I’m rather tired,” Nina said, lying motionless on the sofa. “Let’s ask tomorrow.”

Warming dinner for Young Miss Iordera had utterly exhausted her.

“Oh, come on, please? It’s urgent.”

Iordera pondered for a moment, then pulled a silver coin from her money pouch and offered it. “Just five more minutes of chatter, then?”