Volume 4 Chapter 15 The Secret of Rejuvenation ①
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Isthbaran and Leanan Sídhe lingered on the beach and among the rocks long after sunset. They seemed to care little for the mountain villa, never returning for lunch or supper. Instead, they built a shelter from sturdy wood cut in the hills and broad tropical leaves, lit a fire before it, and feasted on octopus, crabs, and freshly caught fish. They were, beyond doubt, reveling in the marrow of outdoor life.
For them, the scent of civilization—plush beds and polished marble floors—was nothing but a needless intrusion.
Meanwhile, Kian and Aliona reclined on the balcony of the villa, overlooking the coastline, sipping wine in leisure. Their snack was the mass of squid Isthbaran had brought back. Not only the flesh, but even the organs and ink sacs had been put to use. Mixed into dry pasta bought from the bazaar of Water Island’s town, the squid ink had turned the noodles into a blackened dish.
At first, Aliona’s face had fallen into despair at the sight of the tar-colored pasta. But when she tasted it, her lips parted in astonishment, as if a bomb of savory delight had burst across her tongue. She was so moved she nearly let her white toga slip open in the rush of sensation.
”Kian, drink more wine!” she insisted, resting her elbow on the white table and nudging the bottle toward his glass. From below drifted the laughter of Isthbaran and Leanan Sídhe, their joy ringing like a soundtrack to the night.
Without her makeup, Aliona looked years younger—no more than her early twenties. Her golden brows arched in a gentle curve, her cheeks retained their fullness, her lips were plump and fresh. Western women, once past their mid-twenties, often lost the softness of youth as their cheekbones sharpened, shifting from pretty to striking. But as a high elf, Aliona’s features carried an ageless youth.
Her composed manner—well, composed by goddess standards, Kian mused—had earned her the teasing labels of “aunt” or “mother” among monastery girls. Yet here, across from him, without paint or powder, she looked nothing but a woman in her prime. Indeed, with makeup, she seemed to descend in youthfulness to the level of a fashionable young wife of the West.
As Kian pondered the meaning of cosmetics, Aliona suddenly leaned forward with a playful “Take that!” and poured more white wine into his glass.
”Ms. Aliona, I don’t drink much,” he said. “Room-temperature water is enough for me.”
”Oh, come now—you drank wine like a glutton in the monastery.”
”That was because wine was a rare source of nourishment. If I can get nutrients otherwise, I’d rather not take in alcohol.”
”You’re no fun at all!” she pouted.
”Ah—Ms. Aliona!” he protested, startled.
Her ears were flushed, a rare sign she was drinking heavily. Only then did Kian notice the bucket under the table. The ice had melted away, replaced by five empty bottles.
The first wave of Priscilla’s fine wine had been annihilated in just an hour.
”So much at once! Elves aren’t supposed to hold their liquor well!”
”It’s fine! I’m used to drinking!” she declared.
Kian eyed her doubtfully, but Aliona speared a black-inked orecchiette with her fork and waved it hypnotically before him.
”Kian, you really are stoic, aren’t you? For you, food is just fuel, nothing extra. You sleep exactly three hours every night. You train without fail for two hours. Even this morning, before I woke, you were already swinging your sword, weren’t you?”
”Well, yes,” he admitted.
”It’s incredible,” she said softly, her tone carrying an inexplicable sadness. She ate the pasta, then prodded a piece of grilled squid.
Despite her flushed state, her thoughts remained clear. The bird-shaped golem on the balcony rail lit the gem in its belly, filling the dusk with a soft orange glow.
”Tell me, Kian—don’t you have any desires? To eat better food, to wear fine clothes?”
”I think of tasty meals as ones rich in nutrients, so yes, I do desire them in that sense. As for clothes… not much. Only after Linca mentioned it did I start paying attention to what I wear. Before that, Natra and Rufna tended to me. Before them, I was little more than a ragged scavenger. When I wore glasses, it was only to lure women. To be honest, I don’t see meaning in owning many fine clothes.”
”What? But don’t you feel joy, standing before the mirror in beautiful garments? Doesn’t it lift your mood? Or, when you walk through town, being admired by passersby, thinking, ‘They’re looking at me, they see me’?”
”I can’t say… As Duke of Dacia, I only care that my attire isn’t an insult to others.”
”And armor?”
”What I find handsome usually comes with practical use. I don’t choose things only for looks.”
He had even admired Mrs. Camilla’s raven born from blood—but that, too, was for its usefulness. From Talia’s reaction, he knew his sense of “handsome” often veered from others’.
”So you’re essentially without desire? That’s a little sad.”
”I’m not without desire,” he said, hesitating. “Though… you might find it disappointing.”
Aliona burst into laughter. “It’s a night of drinking! Tomorrow I’ll forget anything you say! And even if I remember, I can always blame it on the wine.”
”Well then… I like sex,” he confessed.
”…What?”
”My truest desire. As a priest of Azrael, it shames me. Yet I want to lie with beautiful women across the world, to be loved by them.”
”That’s normal. All men are like that.”
”Is that so? Still, I’ve often discarded women without care, pretended fidelity while seeking Sarah’s and Linca’s touch. Surely, to women, I must seem filthy.”
”When women do it, they’re called wanton. When men do, they’re called virile. That’s how it has always been, regrettable though it is.”
”Then… Ms. Aliona, though you already know I’m a lying womanizer, you won’t despise me?”
”Kian, your worth isn’t measured by that alone.”
Aliona set down her wineglass, then picked up the glass of water beaded with droplets and drained it in a single swallow.
Leaning back into her chair, she boldly crossed her legs beneath the folds of her white toga.
”Of course, at first I was jealous,” she said. “Petty, unbecoming jealousy. Even now, it would be a lie to say it’s gone entirely. But once I realized that becoming your ‘special one’ wasn’t limited to the affairs between man and woman, my perspective began to change.”
”And what do you mean by that?” he asked.
”You bare your heart so openly with me. For example—could you confess your hidden thoughts to Ms. Esther?”
”No,” he said.
”And to Ms. Sarah or Ms. Linca?”
”…If I did, they wouldn’t speak to me again.”
Linca likely suspected Kian was indulging himself fully, but her stance was clear: never mention it in front of her. Sarah—she knew everything instinctively, yet with steel-bound conviction believed, Kian is in love with me. He’ll return to me in the end. That blind devotion made her the most likely to kill him.
Then there was Christy. Christy truly knew nothing. She probably believed she was dating Kian. Which was true—so he left it at that.
Priscilla, once the matter with Renaud was settled, would almost certainly act like his rightful lover. Dangerous.
Esther, like Christy, leaned toward ignorance. Natra’s stance resembled Linca’s, but she carried the belief that she would ultimately be the rightful wife. That, too, made her a candidate for violence, second only to Sarah.
Rufna was dangerous in her own way, but Kian was stronger; he would not be killed.
Which meant the ones to watch were Sarah and Natra. Linca had all but forgotten Kian, throwing herself into her work. She was safe—for now.
Kian let his mind wander down these degenerate paths until Aliona, glass emptied, grew serious again.
”But perhaps,” she said quietly, “to feel desire only for the female body is… unhealthy.”
”Wasn’t that normal for men?” he asked.
”Yes, normal. But most people carry desires beyond the sex drive—ambition, greed, the hunger to dominate.”
”I don’t have much of that,” he admitted.
She gave a dry laugh. “And yet, with all your power and connections, you still cling to being an adventurer.”
Aliona’s smile was wry.
”So distorted. Distorted, and pure. Unlike anyone else. And because of that, indifferent to everyone. Ultimately, your world holds only you. From the beginning, I thought you possessed a rare and singular spirit.”
”I understand my own nature,” Kian said. “I don’t pity myself.”
”Good. That icy-knife edge of yours—I love it. I’d lock it away, keep it frozen, just so you’d always remain mine.”
Aliona’s strange metaphor turned into a laugh.
”As for you, Ms. Aliona,” Kian said, “you hardly seem to harbor desires yourself. Not for power, wealth, control—and elves are said to lack much sex drive, too.”
”When it comes to sex drive… that changed eighty years ago, when Thorn Demon cells were fused into my body.”
”I see. Count Cain’s desperate plea to Erynys for a child—that Demon was the result.”
”Yes.”
Aliona plucked a piece of squid and carried it to her lips. After chewing, she sucked her fingers one by one, a soft pop marking each.
”That Demon’s cells produced a peculiar toxin. It forced my body to secrete substances that heightened sexual desire. But by then my spirit was already withered. I had killed a friend with my own hands—after that, no such impulses rose in me. Not until you. Being held by you again and again—it was like scratching at a long-healed insect bite, and suddenly the fire inside me blazed anew.”
”‘By then my spirit was withered’?” Kian asked.
”Yes.” She nodded.
”I want to know about you, Ms. Aliona. You once said you were counselor to King Pepin II of Franz, more than a century ago, didn’t you?”
”Yes.”
She lowered her green eyes, golden hair trembling in the breeze off the sea. The cool air carried it inward, across her flushed face.
”And how did a royal counselor end up secluded in some remote village?”
”My past is a dull thing,” she murmured.
The high elf rose, resting both elbows against the balcony rail. She gazed at the wide-open world below and drew in the salt-cool air as though to quench the heat of wine in her body. When Kian joined her, Aliona began, haltingly:
”I left the elven domain at twenty. Each day was the same. The elders—smug, decrepit—boasted that they were the magical civilization itself. No matter what I achieved, they refused to recognize me. Even when I’d learned all I could within that place, their assessment of me never changed.”
She laughed softly.
”I was like any young soul then—hot-blooded, reckless, convinced of limitless potential. Yet the high elf blood in me brought extraordinary results. I secretly studied ways to break the barriers of the elven domain, and the path through the Forest of Bewilderment. I succeeded in unraveling both. In exchange for revealing this knowledge to priests of the Western Church, I was granted their qualifications, their coin, their patronage. With that, I graduated from the Academy in the royal capital.”
”So you betrayed your people?” he asked.
”Those old men? I never considered them my people. I thought of them as vermin rotting my talent away. Are you disillusioned?” she said.
”No. The past is the past. And that was ages ago, wasn’t it?”
”Yes.”
”And so—what became of that firebrand high elf, so fierce and proud?”
”I discovered ambition. The hunger for knowledge, for power. The need to always stand above others,” Aliona said. “Talented, young, ambitious—I was blessed with luck and rose quickly. I even became Head Magician to Pepin II. By then, I had grown terrified of losing my power and position. Always forward, always first, never allowing anyone to overtake me. Looking back now, I wonder what I was so desperate for. The truth is, I was obsessed—no exaggeration, truly consumed.”
Her almond eyes fixed on him. Strands of golden hair, slightly curled at the ends, swayed in the breeze and caught against the fullness of her chest.
”For example, Kian—what if you lost your power tomorrow? How would you feel?”
”Nothing much. I would simply rebuild from the beginning,” he said.
”‘Glasses’ Kian” was the self he had once been. Now that it had returned, Kian could not be broken. As long as his mind worked, he would devise and struggle ceaselessly to grow stronger.
Aliona’s eyes widened at his face, then softened into a faint smile.
”For me, losing what I had once gained was far more terrifying than I imagined. I refused to believe there was anything more important than power, wealth, or status. I clung to myself so tightly I couldn’t see beyond.”
”Well now, Ms. Aliona, you clinging greedily to power—very enticing,” he said.
”Do you truly think so?” she asked with a bitter smile, then went on. “I began pulling Pepin II’s strings from behind. I cut down promising newcomers, surrounded myself with those who served me. I even took charge of Pepin Junior’s education, shaping him with fear and knowledge so he could never rise against me. He knew my terrors, and I knew his thoughts. If he ever tried to purge me, I could strike first and drag him down from the throne. I spread myself through the palace like roots beneath the earth—my poison seeping slowly everywhere.”
”I can hardly imagine you falling from there.”
”I fell by my own hand. One day, I heard that Pepin III plotted to capture and kill me. I raged and schemed to annihilate his faction. But then, I caught sight of the mirror before me.”
Aliona chuckled low, the sound rippling from her throat with dark amusement.
”It was during my morning makeup. I shoved my servant aside and rose—and in that moment I was hideous in two ways. Half-made-up, I looked like the decrepit elders of my homeland: vulgar, hollow, pure poison. I realized that with me alive, the kingdom would only rot. And so, there in silence, I bowed my head.”
”So then, you fled to the frontier?”
”No. I surrendered myself. Pepin III refused to pardon me. ‘What, execution? I confessed, and this is the reward?’—I was stunned. But the Western Church wanted my power. I held ordination, so they bound me with enchanted scrolls and consigned me to serve them forever. They forced me to qualify as an Adventurer, and I spent my days destroying relics of the Empire of Night, declared heretical. My rank climbed swiftly until I stood as Rank One.”
”Uh-huh, uh-huh… wait, what?” he blurted.
”It was over a hundred years ago. Later, in subduing the Thorn Demon, I absorbed its cells into my body. Stricken with grief for killing a friend, I was tucked away in the East End monastery. A convenient tool on the shelf—should they ever need me again, they would open the vault.”
His thoughts reeled. Aliona—Rank One Adventurer? He struggled not to gape. Casual revelations like that were impossible to process.
”Does Ms. Aliona still have her qualifications?” he asked.
”No. I checked, and there were no records. Perhaps the Church erased them. Oddly enough, the Royal Capital Academy’s graduation record survived. Or perhaps that’s the point—the Academy’s record was untouchable, but the Adventurer Guild’s could be altered.”
”……”
Could it really be dismissed so lightly? The dream of Rank One Adventurer—gone. But to Aliona, it was nothing. Freed from the scrolls, she could slay even sea dragons that blockaded trade routes for centuries in a single strike. To dwell on her lost title was absurd beside her power.
”And so my spirit withered. More closed off than my elven homeland had ever been, the monastery offered only endless days of winemaking. At first I asked the children about the world outside, but later even that ceased. I became the smiling mother, the gentle aunt in the sun. By the time I no longer questioned that role, I was already rotting from within.”
”Do you still have desires? Ambition for power, knowledge, control?” Kian asked.
Aliona turned toward the sea and fell silent for a long moment.
”I still crave knowledge. But not for myself—for you. You’d find an old-fashioned magician clumsy to use, wouldn’t you? A Head Magician well-versed in modern systems is far more useful.”
”That’s true. They say much old magic lacked any clear principles.”
”As for the other desires? No. Do I look like a woman hungry for power or wealth?”
”Not at all. You always seemed calm—untouched by wealth or station. A gentle, serene, mature woman,” he said.
At his words, Aliona shook her head.
”Desire—call it purpose, if you will. Those who lose purpose age swiftly. Not the body, but the spirit. Those who live with it, whatever their race, remain young at heart. I was one who lost mine. Like the elders of the elven domain. I’d bristle if someone called me a hag, yet deep down, I know it would not be wrong. The cloistered life of the monastery aged me—withered me inside.”
”But Ms. Aliona,” Kian replied, “you are a high elf, blessed with a near-endless life. Your body remains untouched by time, no matter how difficult it is to renew the spirit. Even if your heart grew old, you could reclaim it swiftly.”
”Not just could. I must. To remain at your side, as your one and only confidante, I need to be young again. Not the way I once stood by Pippin, but to be someone naturally, inevitably needed.”
”You don’t have to be useful for me to need you,” he said.
”…Why?” she asked quietly.
”Because I want to stay close to your kindness.”
Kian took her hand and gazed at her beautiful face. Surrounded though he often was by women of striking looks, Aliona’s beauty was complete—radiant, refined, and yet full of a sensuality that stirred him deeply.
Most mortals recoiled from the uncanny weight of her vast magic, but Kian—stripped of fear long ago—felt no such dread.
”I’m not kind. I only treated you as an equal,” Aliona whispered. “Though… I can no longer do that.”
”That’s exactly what makes you noble and kind. To treat a ‘garbage scavenger’ like me as an equal—that’s not something most people could do. I was saved by your rare compassion. Even if you were an old grandmother, I would still want to be wrapped in that kindness forever.”
Her lips parted. “O–old grandmother…? No, if I am to stay at your side, I would rather be young and beautiful.”
Flustered, Aliona turned her face away, trying to draw back the hand he held.
”Why pull away?” he asked.
”I—I need to pick flowers,” she blurted. “I drank too much wine. Let me go.”
”…”
”Kian?”
”I’ll come with you. You seem very drunk, Ms. Aliona.”
At his smiling suggestion, her eyes widened in alarm.
”I—I can go alone! Just let me go! If you want to… to do that sort of thing, we’ll wait for the bed later, all right?”
”Ms. Aliona…”
Kian drew her slender frame, full though it was in breast and hip, into his arms.
”Wait—”
”The first time we made love,” he murmured, “you were relieving yourself, weren’t you?”
Her face flamed scarlet to the tips of her ears, a blush no wine could conjure.
”I want to see you that way, Ms. Aliona,” he said.
”If it weren’t you, I’d have already cursed and banished you straight to bed,” she retorted, trembling. “Enough jokes. Let’s do it normally—clean, after a shower.”
”But that’s no different from always. We came here for something special—shouldn’t we enjoy a special situation?”
”What’s so fun about watching an old woman piss? It’s dirty! Please, just let me go.”
”No.”
”K–Kian… please…”
Her pointed ears drooped as she writhed in shame, and that very humiliation only sharpened his desire.
”You can choose: come into the bathroom with me, or… let go right here.”
”Are you insane?” she gasped.
”Even if you wet yourself, I’d happily mop it up. And still want you.”
”Pervert! Don’t tell me you force such things on Esther or Natra too? That would be trampling a woman’s dignity! Someone has to educate—”
”It’s only you,” he interrupted. “Only you I want to see.”
Her breath caught. Kian’s hand slid from her shoulder down to the curve of her narrow waist, and further, to the soft swell of her rear beneath the thin fabric of her panties.
”Ah—”
Over the past four months, he had slowly trained her body. The Thorn Demon’s cells had left her sex drive heightened; every brush of his rough male skin now set her aflame.
”You planned to spend tonight with me anyway, didn’t you? If you’re already baring yourself completely, what difference does it make?”
”It makes all the difference! This is—this is urination! The sound, the smell—Kian, you would hear it all!”
”That’s what excites me. Don’t worry—I’ll carry you like a princess to the toilet myself.”
”Wait—!”
She protested, but then sagged against him, realizing it was useless to fight. Her damp skin gave off the clean scent of herbal soap. Without perfume, her natural sweetness—mature, womanly—rose warmly into his senses.
”You may look slender,” Kian murmured, “but your body is stunning, Ms. Aliona. Not only your breasts, but your thighs, your hips… incredible.”
”Compared to Natra, my flesh is just soft and slack,” she said bitterly.
”That’s what makes it irresistible. Because it’s yours, it excites me.”
”You really are… such a wicked boy…”
”Will you kiss me while you do it?”
”N–no! Absolutely not!”
Her fists clenched as she shouted.
Chuckling low, Kian pushed open the door to the grand mansion’s water closet.
Notes:
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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