Volume 4 Chapter 18 The Unlikely House-Sitter ♡
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Despite the seaside villa, Kian and Aliona spent their days tangled in each other.
They made love.
Aliona fainted.
He bathed her and made her clean.
Afterward, he trained, tidied their quarters, and cooked for them both.
And then it began again.
Isthbaran and Leanan Sídhe seemed to understand enough to give them space. Unless bathing in the men’s wing, they spent their time on the beach or wandering the nearby village. Isthbaran in particular had fallen hard for the charms of the fishermen’s gaming dens—too polished to be called a village, really—and from the second day onward he scarcely returned from the gambling tables.
Kian felt a faint twinge of guilt, but he could not stop his fevered life with Aliona. Isthbaran craved dice and cards; Kian and Aliona craved only each other.
When word arrived that Priscilla’s transfer of five hundred gold coins would be delayed by several days, Leanan Sídhe cheerfully agreed to extend the holiday. The merchant guild had sent no updates, nor had the Kingdom of Crete responded to their application for Fire Island reconnaissance. With no obligations pressing them, everyone let the days slacken.
* * *
By the fourth afternoon, their vacation should have ended. Instead, with three more days stretched before them, the great room on the villa’s third floor—their sanctuary—suffused with languid ease.
The balcony doors stood wide open. Heavy red curtains were tied back, their hooks clattering each time the salt breeze rose. Outside, the sea shone a soft blue, and despite late December the wind that entered carried a deceptive warmth.
Kian hung from the ceiling beam, his bare torso glistening, Aliona’s weighted golems strapped to his ankles. Each slow pull-up carved the minotaur-bulk of his back in shadow and light.
By the window, Aliona lounged in a robe, long legs crossed on an armchair, turning the pages of a thick volume without glancing at him. Her washed golden hair caught the sea-glow.
”Ms. Aliona, how is your neck?” he asked, lowering himself with measured breath.
She brushed back her hair with the back of her hand, eyes still on the text.
”Mmm? Much better. Better than ever, actually. I suspect this tropical sunlight is keeping the Thorn Demon’s cells dormant.”
”That’s a relief. The mycelial crown I removed this morning was barely a tenth of its usual size. If only they would stay dormant forever.”
T/N: Mycelial crown (菌根冠) — parasitic fungal growth resembling a crown at the base of the skull.
She tilted her head slightly, voice calm and precise.
”But the cells parasitizing my brain receive orders, don’t they? Orders from the Thorn Demon’s dominant strain to spread, to multiply, to consume me.”
”Yes. According to the records Rufna gathered in Ramsey, that seems to be the case.”
Scholars debated how vampires controlled their blood-bonded kin and familiars, though the principle remained obscure. When Kian asked Mrs. Camilla or Talia, they only said: You command, they obey. For them, it was as natural as moving a limb. The testimony fit: they were beings who could consciously regulate even hair growth.
But Rufna’s research confirmed what Kian once read in a vampiric treatise: vampires housed specialized cells capable of emitting waves of magic power. These waves allowed complex directives to be imposed upon subordinates.
Such dominant cells existed in Mrs. Camilla, and in Kian as well—he could compel his familiars by sheer will. The Thorn Demon, having unleashed parasitic spawn in hordes, must also have possessed them.
The cells now inside Aliona’s brain were subordinate ones, likely having received the last command just before the Demon’s destruction: invade a host’s mind, turn them into kin.
If those instructions could be overwritten—say, replaced with an eternal sleep command—the cells might remain forever dormant.
But the question was how.
”I think we should summon the Thorn Demon again,” Aliona said lightly. “Brilliant idea, don’t you?”
”Not brilliant at all!” Kian nearly lost his grip. “Ms. Aliona—pardon me for saying this to a goddess, but sometimes your ideas are utterly insane.”
”Not insane. Perfectly logical.”
”You can’t be serious.”
”I am. With the combined magic of myself, the Head Magician, Sarah, Natra, Linca, Christina, and Priscilla, we could summon the Demon without sacrifices or exhausting the Spiritual Vein. Technically, only a junior version hatched from seed.”
She leaned forward, voice soft as if explaining a recipe.
”We’d extract its dominant cells. You would absorb them, just as you did with the White Minotaur. Then you would command the subordinate cells inside me to slumber. They would masquerade as my own cells forever. Happily ever after. Well?”
”The method makes sense, but the destruction it could cause—unless…” He paused, the thought catching in his throat. “Unless we resurrect it in some barren tundra or desert.”
”Exactly,” Aliona replied. “Far from people or towns, with little life for its seeds to prey upon. Once its spawn are cleansed, no ecosystem break—destruction—would follow.”
Kian rubbed his chin, muscles still taut from exertion. “Hmm.” He dragged the bound golem from his leg, hefted it under one arm, and dropped lightly from the beam to the floor.
”In theory, we could extract the controlling cells,” he said, his voice steady, “but in practice it’s another matter. We would need vast space, veteran magicians, and an army prepared to subjugate the demon again.”
”The plains of Dacia are impossible,” he continued grimly. “If a demon shot its seed there, the surrounding ecosystem would collapse. Parasites not yet fully integrated would vanish, but those fully embedded would survive, breed, and spread as independent lifeforms. Even now, the ecology around Ramsey is shifting. Oswald is forced to rebuild the town while endlessly purging the thornspawn that remain.”
Aliona nodded. “Yes. That’s why we need the power of Count Kian of Dacia. And I must prove my worth so clearly that you’d endure all this trouble just to heal me.”
”You don’t need to prove that—I’ll heal you anyway,” he said.
”It isn’t your acceptance that matters,” she countered. “It’s everyone else’s.”
Her face turned grave as she shook her head. “We’re speaking of reviving a Thorn Demon. The Head Magician will oppose it. Ms. Natra will too. And Ms. Sarah, bound by duty as Princess Maribel’s chief magician, would have no choice but to reject the proposal outright. To overturn all of that, I need a reputation strong enough to silence doubt—and preparations to eradicate the demon and its spawn completely, including choosing the right site.”
The high elf magician closed the book she had been reading and crossed her long, pale legs beneath the bathrobe. The glimpse of her white limbs nearly dragged his gaze, but Kian clenched his jaw and held fast with iron will. Still, he felt himself harden despite his solemn expression.
”For example, the territory of Count Cain might survive a little chaos,” he suggested.
”That’s one option,” Aliona admitted. “But the problem is Erynys sealed there. If the chains of shadow spirits binding it were to unravel, we’d face a nightmare reborn. Depending on who we send, it could mean total annihilation. The witches will be drained the moment the demon is summoned, and with the Spiritual Vein nearly exhausted, you, Kian, would be weakened as well.”
”So we need careful planning, the right people, persuasion,” Kian summarized.
”And money,” Aliona added dryly. She leaned back against the chair, wood creaking. “Don’t forget—our equipment is nearly nothing. You, Kian, fight in nothing but shirt, trousers, and a stone sword conjured in haste.”
”You’re no better,” he teased. “You cut a branch behind the monastery and call it a staff.”
She smirked. “General Isthbaran’s gear is just as pitiful. The only well-equipped ones, Natra and Linca, are tied up dealing with the chain of assassinations in Izerland Fortress. Hiring replacements would cost a fortune.”
”Is there even a replacement for them?” he asked.
”For Ms. Natra… perhaps Lord Oswald.” She tilted her head. “Though he’s bound by scrolls like a slave. Ramsey already paid off its debts to him in coin. He owes us nothing.”
”And without Linca we cannot win. Her Oathbound Misericorde is the reason our spells even touched the demon.”
”Have you been feeding her?” Aliona asked suddenly.
”…Feeding her?” Kian blinked.
Her fingers tapped sharply on the desk—tap tap tap tap. Her crossed leg shook with restless impatience. The image was that of a stern teacher calling a student into her office, and Kian found his pulse quickening despite himself.
”The Misericorde loses power if her love for you fades, doesn’t it?”
”Yes. In that case, I’d have to pay her and reclaim it. Perhaps then, I’d gift it to you, Ms. Aliona.”
She stared flatly. “One day, she’ll stab you for that. Even if I don’t know her well, I know that much.”
”Well, if she learns I’m sleeping with you all the time, I suppose I’d deserve it.”
”Then treat her kindly,” Aliona insisted, her voice weary. “She may bear your children one day.”
Aliona sighed and then steered the conversation back. “In any case, the demon’s resurrection isn’t for now. We wait for the right moment. To speak too soon would fracture the group. Besides, Crete’s sunlight seems to aid in keeping its cells inactive—perhaps we won’t need such peril at all. I confide this only in you, Kian. Keep it secret.”
”Of course,” he swore.
”I was the one who consumed the demon’s cells—this is my burden. I’ll make the preparations while aiding your development of Dacia and your adventuring. You alone must track my every suspicious step.”
”You call yourself suspicious?” he asked, almost amused.
”Reviving a Thorn Demon is suspicious. To the rest, it looks like I’m preparing for war against shadows.”
The topic dissolved with the sea breeze drifting through the window. Together, they turned to the sight of the white beach and glittering blue horizon.
”It’s beautiful here,” Aliona murmured. “Staying this long feels like a dream.”
”I thought you preferred the deep forests.”
”No, no,” she said quickly, pouting in a way that ought to have looked silly, but on her it was disarmingly charming. “Too many memories from childhood—I hate them.”
”Speaking of which, what were you reading?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his neck with the towel draped across the bed.
Stretching out her arm, Aliona lifted the thick, brown-bound book. “This?”
”Golem Engineering Overview. Apparently, in Azrael it’s a standard textbook in magi-engineering. According to the Head Magician, even non-specialists read it.”
”Do you think Sarah has read it?” he asked.
”She has. After all, she added the annotations herself,” Aliona said, tilting the book so Kian could see the brand-new cover. On its brown leather binding, the title Golem Engineering Overview and the author’s name, Umar Vahid, gleamed in gold. When she opened it, flipping through pages, the dedication at the end of the preface thanked his apprentice, Sarah, for her notes.
”To see my father’s and my childhood friend’s names here of all places…” Kian murmured.
”You’re still not at peace about your father and Ms. Sarah?” she asked gently.
”No. After speaking with you, Ms. Aliona, I’ve completely sorted through it. No lingering weight in my chest at all.”
”I’m glad to hear you’re moving forward. It’s a fine book. Though it’s more conceptual than practical, and since it’s an overview, [T/N: pun on ‘gaisetsu’—’outline-theory’] there are some subtle gaps where I wish there were more detail.”
”Did you buy it in Water Island’s marketplace?” Kian asked.
”Yes. I’ve wanted it for a while. The Head Magician shared knowledge of golems with me, but always filtered—her simplified explanations only. I never had a full systematic grasp.”
”Rufna’s explanations weren’t enough?” he asked.
Aliona shook her head. “No, she summarized beautifully. I could handle modern golems thanks to her. But it was always Ms. Rufna’s extracted techniques, not the underlying philosophy. I could make her version of a golem, but I couldn’t design circuits or assemble components by my own reasoning.”
She grinned suddenly and pulled out another, thinner but larger volume. “And I couldn’t resist getting this one too.” Its wide pages contained diagrams—a practical manual on golems. The title read Golems Even Trolls Can Make, by Talarene Nakash—Sarah and Natra’s mother.
”Have you seen Ms. Sarah’s beetle and stag beetle golems?” Aliona asked, eyes alight.
”They’re golems, right?” Kian said.
”Yes. Both are wonderful, but the designs are a little… boyish. I want to make something cuter.”
”Oh? Like what?”
”Kian the Second.”
”What!?” His spine stiffened, a chill running down.
But Aliona burst into sunny laughter. “I’m joking, honestly. Don’t take me so seriously!” she said, swatting his arm with mock indignation.
”Ms. Talia will probably want to read it too, so I’ll lend it to you once I’m finished,” she added warmly.
”Thank you. Ms. Aliona gaining more modern knowledge only helps the whole party. I’ll classify the book’s price as an expense.”
”No, I’d like to collect them in the long run, so I’ll cover the cost. Don’t worry.”
”All right. But if you ever run short, please tell me.”
”Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
They fell into silence, gazes locking. Then Aliona rose from her chair, and with a whisper of fabric, her robe slipped soundlessly to the floor.
”Is the airing finished?” Kian asked quietly.
”Yes.” She pointed toward the window. In an instant, the heavy curtains snapped shut, and the balcony doors slammed tight.
Darkness engulfed the room. Only her green eyes glowed as she looked up at him. “Since Ms. Linca’s story, I’ve been… restless. Forgive me—it’s indecent, isn’t it?”
”Not at all. Truth is, I’ve been staring at your legs long before that.”
”Only my legs?” she teased, capturing his hand in her smooth one, guiding it lower. His fingers brushed the dense, springy curls of her secret thicket—soft yet abundant, unusual for an elf. The silken dampness clung to his touch.
Their lips met fiercely. They stumbled together toward the double bed, leaving the desk behind. With the window sealed, the heady scent of sex thickened, catching in his breath.
”Kian,” she whispered against his mouth. “Let’s see who can last longer without coming. Loser becomes the winner’s slave tonight.”
He swallowed hard. “And if I lose?”
”Then I’ll own you,” she whispered, pressing him back and straddling his erection. She guided him to her entrance, smearing her wet heat along his length. Cold at first, yet burning within—her body stretched hungrily around him.
Her lips parted. Golden brows knit with pleasure as inch by inch she sank down, swallowing him. The weight of her body pushed the head inside with a slick slide. She sighed, hips dropping until only the base remained visible.
”Can you see it? Inside me… it’s twitching,” she moaned.
”It feels too good,” he groaned.
”Mm… watch me. See every shameful inch of me,” she purred, spreading her knees so he could see her folds stretched wide, her clitoris swollen beneath the shimmer of gold hair, her body contorting beautifully around him.
”Yes… I see. My c*ck is being devoured whole by you.”
”These past four days you’ve ruined me, molded me to your shape. It slips inside too easily now.” Her breath hitched. “Maybe I’ll never go back…”
”Ahh—!”
”Shhh…” She leaned down, lips crashing over his. Saliva bridged between them, her tongue urgent and insistent. Her breasts pressed soft and heavy against his chest, while inside she clenched like velvet strangling him.
”Wh… which of us—” he gasped between breaths.
At such close distance, Aliona whispered, her milky cheeks flushed crimson. A sweet, almost cloying breath rose like white steam between them, dizzying him.
”Let’s see who lasts longer. A contest. Yes?” she whispered.
”You think you can beat me?” he asked.
She laughed brightly. “Ahaha!”
Her youthful voice rang like silver bells as she pressed her face against his again. Their arms wrapped tight around each other, grinding, twisting, hips slick and urgent until nothing separated them.
* * *
By evening, a letter arrived from the Kingdom of Crete Government—an interim survey permit for Fire Island. It was delivered by a member of the Order of the Lightning Knights, said to be stationed in the south of Grass Island.
Barely able to bind a bathrobe around his still-drained body, Kian shuffled to the iron gate, where the knight introduced herself and handed over the document. Too embarrassed to meet her eyes, he muttered thanks and accepted it.
Soon after, another letter arrived from Priscilla. As promised, in two days the payment—five hundred Franz Kingdom Gold Coins, equivalent to three hundred seventy-five Azrael Gold Coins—would arrive. The designated pickup point was the deserted island where they had once delivered the minotaur’s heart.
Thus, the Kian party decided on a sudden council-slash-barbecue at the beach that evening, around eight.
”—So, in the end, you two spent four straight days at it. That’s appallingly unhealthy,” Isthbaran said with a dramatic sigh.
He gleamed like a gaudy idol: golden sunglasses, a flamboyant red shirt, a ridiculous float strapped to his waist, and ten jeweled rings—one for every finger. His silver hair streamed in the ocean wind.
”Utterly disgraceful,” he added.
”I won’t deny indulgence,” Aliona replied with a serene, glossy smile, “but I feel healthier than ever.”
Her right hand twined tightly with Kian’s in lovers’ clasp, radiating an air that screamed these two just finished in bed.
”You’ve been lounging at the casino all week,” she teased.
Leanan sídhe lifted her face from sipping wine through a conjured vine-straw, lounging in a chair spun of her magic.
”How much did you win?” Kian asked.
”I’ve not counted, but five Azrael Gold Coins multiplied tenfold!” Isthbaran boasted.
”You’ll be banned, like Natra,” he said dryly.
”Nonsense. There’s a method to this. I pretend not to use my silver-wolf senses, keep a record of maybe four wins to six losses, lose small but win colossal. That’s how you rake in the fortune!”
Kian eyed him glittering like a walking treasury and thought, This bastard must’ve lived off gambling even when alive. Those fools at the casino never notice the cheating.
Still, if the general covered his face and showed only his torso, he resembled a black panther. Most had no idea a silver wolf could read an opponent’s bluff from heartbeats alone. Perhaps, Kian mused, it was inevitable.
”This town’s sailors are rich and terrible at cards. It was easy,” Isthbaran said smugly.
”Easy, when you can hear every heartbeat bluff,” Aliona shot back.
”And you? What did you do?” he asked Leanan sídhe.
”I watched the sea and composed poetry. I chatted with sailors, collected stories, played my lute in the hills.”
”Very cultured,” Kian remarked.
”Of course,” she said with a superior smile, making it plain she considered herself far above the ever-mating monkeys and gold-drunken gamblers.
”Sorry for having s*x all week in the mansion,” Kian offered.
”It’s fine. S*x is necessary now and then,” she said.
”I had hot springs,” another chimed in.
”I just slept the whole time,” Talia’s voice drawled, groggy.
”I wanted to see the ocean, but you kept Aliona in bed.”
”Sorry.”
”If you say suman-ko I won’t forgive you.”
T/N: pun on “sumimasen (sorry)” + “manko” (vulgar for vagina).
”Suman-kooo—ah, wait, sorry!” Kian stumbled.
”Mm. Good enough,” she murmured.
Leanan sídhe drained her bottle and stabbed it into the sand before springing up.
”So? Progress, Kian?”
”Yes. Ms. Priscilla says the coins arrive in two days. And we now have a temporary survey permit for Fire Island from the Kingdom of Crete.”
”Temporary… meaning limited duration?” Isthbaran asked, lowering his glittering glasses.
Kian nodded. “Yes. And the terms are harsh. Everyone, look.”
He broke the seal and read aloud. The letter was in Azraelic, so he pointed word by word, translating.
”The survey lasts until ten days after the New Year. All costs are ours. Half of all resources go to the Kingdom of Crete. That means any indivisible finds—landscapes, ruins, relics—must go entirely to them. Same for documents or artifacts that lose value when split.”
”Furthermore, all bases established must be surrendered upon returning the permit. The government will assess the total and pay fair compensation. Maps, if submitted, earn additional reward.”
Aliona kept translating, then fell silent, brows furrowed.
”Too stingy,” Isthbaran said, shaking his head.
”Perhaps we should wait until the merchant guild is officially recognized before we act?” Leanan Sídhe asked.
”Even then, the government’s terms won’t change,” Aliona replied. “They won’t trust us with new lands.”
”You didn’t want money, did you?” she asked quietly.
Kian, Aliona, and Isthbaran all nodded, solemn.
”Our ultimate goal is to secure permission to run a sugarcane venture in the untamed territories,” Kian said, then glanced to Aliona and Isthbaran. “If they won’t allow that, maybe we should turn to private sellers instead. The government seems too rigid. Should we start looking?”
”No. This is our chance.”
Aliona, silent until now, lifted her gaze. “Listen carefully, all of you. Whatever the terms, the government recognized the Kian Merchant Guild as a legitimate partner. That recognition is the foothold we needed. Fire Island’s native beasts are so strong that even the Order of the Lightning Knights cannot subdue them. If a group appears capable of hunting them with ease, the government will eventually be forced to rely on us for land and resources.”
”That’s true,” Talia murmured in agreement. “They came this far to sit at the table. Now we only need to make them accept our conditions.”
Aliona nodded. “Exactly. We must show results. If we prove our strength, they won’t be able to say anything—nor will we let them. General Isthbaran, we’re going to hunt or capture the leader of Fire Island’s salamander beast—the lava wyrm. Then we’ll drag its corpse, or better its whole body, to the steps of Water Island’s government hall. No matter their thoughts, the citizens of Crete and every guild will see what we can do.”
”Lady Aliona,” Isthbaran asked, “why must you insist on dealing with the Kingdom of Crete’s government in particular?”
”Because they hold the most power in this nation. They could become our backing. If corruption is inevitable, it’s better with the government.”
”Hm. Reasonable,” Isthbaran grunted.
Kian gave a firm nod. “We also need the first customer to buy Dacian wheat. If Crete’s government serves that role, they’re just the right size—wealthy enough without being overwhelming.”
”Then it’s settled,” Talia said softly from Kian’s side.
Isthbaran tipped back his honey mead in one great gulp. “An expedition! An adventure! I only hope this lava wyrm proves as mighty as the minotaur before it. Then I may raise a battle-song over the fields!”
”The issue is how to divide our people,” Kian began. “I should go with you—”
”No,” Aliona cut in. “The general, Talia, and I will handle it. We’ll provide rear support: sending supplies, clearing paths with magic, keeping watch on the slave markets. You will stay behind.”
”What? You mean I’m stuck here?” Kian cried. “No way! I want to go too!”
”Hold it, Butachinpo,” Aliona snapped. [T/N: ブタチンポ (Butachinpo) = vulgar insult, “pig-prick.”] “If you leave too, what will happen to the guild headquarters?”
”――――Isthbaran,” Kian muttered darkly.
”Impossible,” the general said at once. “I cannot read Azraelic script. Nor law.”
”Damn it… Ms. Aliona!” Kian pleaded.
”I’m better suited for support. Besides, what if the guild is asked something only you can decide?”
”You can’t be serious…”
Deep down, he had half expected this. Still, being told outright to stay behind left him reeling.
(But this is an expedition into lands unknown! A lava wyrm? I want to be the first to see it!)
’Give it up.’
”So cruel… this can’t be happening…”
”Fwahaha! Do your best with the paperwork,” Isthbaran laughed.
Kian scowled at them all with bitter eyes. Aliona, unfazed, pointed at the skewers of meat and vegetables grilling over the fire. “Ah, looks like they’re ready,” she said cheerfully.
Notes:
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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