Chapter 15

She had been thinking about it all day, desperately searching for a way out. But there was none.

He had spoken. That was the end of it.

Unless she fancied being discovered half-dissolved in a sewage treatment plant like discarded bio-sludge, it was already over.

She had to sleep with Commander Dezeb Avganis.

Erabelle forced her trembling frame upright, turned on the shower, and washed away the warehouse grime clinging to her hair. Then she shaved her arms and legs.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't bother—she barely had any body hair to speak of. But tonight, she made sure not a single fine strand remained.

All the while, she fought to suppress memories of how he treated his lovers in the original story.

In her position, imagining those scenes was no different from visualizing a snuff film. Every time the images resurfaced, the hand holding the razor froze. Her grip shook so violently she feared the blade would slice her skin. Though in truth, it wasn't as if she were coming out of this intact either way.

“Hhk...”

Erabelle pressed her palm hard against her burning eyelids.

There was no pattern to how he treated them.

Sometimes he was gentle; sometimes, utterly ruthless. But none of it was genuine. None of it meant anything.

Occasionally, it was over quickly—a brief ordeal to be endured with closed eyes. Other times, it dragged on for days.

In the end, it was merely playing with a toy... and the toy never mattered.

It doesn’t matter.

There’s only one thing I have to do.

Just survive.

Erabelle rubbed her eyes until they stung.

This won’t be the last night. It can’t be.

He didn’t kill every partner he took. It was never a rule.

So she just had to hold on. She could do that. Ever since arriving in this world, survival by endurance had been her sole principle.

She popped two Signum stabilizers into her mouth, pulled her hood up over her damp hair, and dressed in her usual home attire—an oversized hoodie and loose sweats.

She wasn't about to walk out in a bathrobe like a scene from some movie. She even put on proper underwear, meticulously fastening every hook of her bra.

Maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe he’ll back off.

Right up to the final second, she clung to that fragile thread of hope.

Why me? I’ve never crossed him! I worked so hard... So why? Why me?

Not that it matters. Even if I knew why, what difference would it make?

Just stay alive.

Erabelle stepped out of the bathroom, hood pulled low over her brow, sleeves pulled over her hands.

“My, Erabelle. You’re certainly bundled up.”

Dezeb was lounging at the dining table, lazily scrolling through his datapad. Watching her pull her hood drawstrings tight, he burst into a brief laugh.

“Still, you came out faster than I expected. I thought you’d take an hour at least.”

He set the pad aside and stood up.

Exactly 188.2 centimeters. His sheer stature alone was suffocating.

Erabelle suppressed a primal urge to bolt.

She managed to stay grounded only because she had spent the long prep time in the bathroom—shaving, washing, mentally bracing herself—building a fragile armor.

Just endure. You can do this.

“Go wait in the bedroom.”

No. I can’t... Even as the thought crossed her mind, her mouth answered automatically.

“Yes, sir.”

Her willpower was fracturing, but she forced herself to recall her exit contingency. The will was in the freezer. The insurance policies were in the bottom drawer beneath her bed.

Focus. Just focus.

She began counting the seconds in her head.

The time was 20:47.

Dezeb had suggested a light meal before heading home, stopping by the military mess hall. She had eaten just enough to keep from fainting. Then came the shower, dragging out every task to buy time, and now...

20:48... 49.

Her shift began at 07:10 tomorrow.

That left 10 hours and 21 minutes. 621 minutes. 37,260 seconds...

If I can just make it until then... he’ll let me go to work, won’t he?

37,258... 57...

Obeying his order, Erabelle stepped into the bedroom and began pacing aimlessly, counting down in her head.

Time had to pass. It always did.

When the count reached somewhere around 36,000, he entered.

His dark hair was damp. He wore only workout pants—his bare torso carved like marble.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

It was still within the bounds of what she had braced herself for.

Until—

“...!!”

Humming a soft tune, he unlocked a compact black plastic case—no larger than his palm.

In an instant, a flurry of nightmare scenarios exploded in her mind.

“No! No drugs!” Erabelle lunged toward him, her voice cracking in pure panic.

She couldn't stop thinking about his former partners—his “compatibles”—the ones found dead with grotesque, twisted smiles carved onto their faces.

“Drugs... No! P-please don’t!”

Dezeb looked down at her, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes.

“Calm down, Erabelle. It’s just a mild sedative.”

“...What?”

She blinked, paralyzed.

The tears she had been desperately holding back spilled over her cheeks. Her mouth hung parted in shock, a thin trail of saliva escaping down her chin.

She looked like a complete wreck—a humiliating mess. Not that it mattered to her anymore.

“It’s only a sedative,” he repeated quietly. “It’ll be rough if it’s your first time.”

A sedative...

The word finally registered. Erabelle drew a ragged breath.

Dezeb reached out and gently slid her hood back, threading his fingers through her messy hair.

He knelt before her where she had collapsed on the floor, a faint smile on his lips.

“I’m your first, aren’t I, Erabelle? It’s going to hurt without prep. But if it really frightens you that much... we can skip it.”

“...How... how do you know it’s my first...?”

“Because Lieutenant Camillia Obea won't shut her mouth. For God's sake, give me a break. I doubt there’s a single soul in the unit who doesn’t know our ensign is a virgin.”

“Ah...”

Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion felt a surge of heat flood her face. It wasn't shame—it was sheer relief.

“I... I’m sorry.”

Commander Dezeb Avganis slid his hands under her arms and lifted her up effortlessly.

Her face drained of color once more.

Maybe it would’ve been safer if he’d just drugged me.

If I panic and push him too far... provoking him like this could end horribly.

“That’s why I gave you a few days to adjust,” he said. “Didn’t do much good, did it?”

Guess I’m just not built for this. His soft murmur sounded more amused than vexed. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Erabelle went rigid, her eyes wide with shock.

With a low chuckle, he kissed her again—longer this time, deliberate—before parting with a soft, wet sound.

Her frail body shuddered, like a helpless creature trapped in a web.

“Erabelle.”

“Y-Yes...?”

A flicker of confusion stirred in her eyes.

His saliva... it’s inside me, she realized. It feels... strange. Burning. Tingling.

Even as the sensation crept through her, her small frame remained frozen, taut against his massive build. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, desperate to break free.

“...You’re making me anxious, Erabelle. I’m not trying to consume you. It’s just physical. You’ll feel good... better than any stabilizer. Try to relax.”

“You mean... like the stabilizer...?”

Dezeb sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling her gently onto his lap.

Erabelle’s body turned stiff as a board.

“I said relax.”

If only it were that simple, he thought. He brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head. Her head was so small in his grip, it seemed entirely engulfed.

She must have felt the immense disparity in their strength too. Renewed terror filled her eyes.

Dezeb tilted his head slightly, studying her expression.

This really isn’t like me. Why am I taking it so slow? He couldn't quite grasp why he was being so gentle with her.

He licked her closed lips softly, coaxing them open. After a moment of trembling hesitation, her mouth parted slightly.

He smiled, his sharp gaze softening.

Haa... Their warm breaths intertwined as the kiss deepened, skin pressing against skin. A soft whimper bubbled up from Erabelle’s throat.

“Swallow.”

He nipped gently at her lower lip. Instinctively, Erabelle swallowed the pooled saliva in her mouth.

Dezeb licked away the remaining moisture and slid his hand down along her inner thigh.

So soft. So delicate.

He took in the texture, so completely unlike his own.

Her pupils dilated and contracted, struggling to hold focus. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look straight at him. When her eyes finally settled on his, he didn't turn away.

“...Hn.”

Erabelle flinched sharply. I waited all this time for her to regain her senses... and now she tries to run?

She tried to pull back on instinct.

Dezeb clamped down with both hands, pinning her firmly in place.

“...!”

Strands of saliva trailed from her tightly set mouth. He leaned down and kissed her once more, softly, as if offering comfort.

Tears welled at the corners of her tightly shut eyes. Dezeb clicked his tongue in frustration.

The sound seemed to ignite a spark within her. Erabelle looked up at him, a faint flicker of hope gleaming in her wide brown eyes.

“I... I don’t think I’m going to enjoy this very much...”

Without a word, Dezeb slid his hand beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. Erabelle’s face flushed crimson; she grabbed his wrist in a panic.

Then, realizing what she had just done, she yanked her hand back as if burned and clutched the hem of her hoodie instead.

Dezeb looked down at her with an expression that could almost be mistaken for concern.

If she keeps fighting me like this, I really might end up killing her tonight.