Volume 6 Chapter 6 It’s Different, You Know◇
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Gu────uuuuUUU!!”
The cry tore through the stillness like a blade dragged across silk, startling the night from its quiet sleep.
”GAaaAaaaAAAHHH!! Damn it! Damn it! AgAAAAh, KuuUU!!”
Her voice cracked open with raw torment. The general—one of the Demon Lord’s high command—was writhing, her body arching as she clawed at the splintering cart beneath her. A board cracked beneath the force of her fist, the sound a dry, splintered groan.
”Hey, sis, you’re going too far—” Klock’s voice broke with alarm, but didn’t finish.
”Mr. Klock, hold her—don’t let her move!” Suzette barked, her tone tight with effort.
The cart, a rickety thing borrowed from the village elder, had begun to fall apart under the violence of the healing process. Wooden joints strained and gave with quiet creaks, each one a brittle sigh.
Klock braced her from behind, arms locked around her torso, while Suzette gripped her legs, anchoring her thrashing limbs. Between them, Gildegant convulsed. A muted green light pulsed from Suzette’s hands—healing magic. It mingled with the heat of dragon meat in the general’s bloodstream, catalyzing a violent regeneration that lit every nerve in her body on fire.
The pain—relentless, electric—tore through her in waves.
It took minutes, though time stretched and warped under the weight of her agony. When the spell finally faltered, the glow dimming to nothing, Suzette collapsed onto her knees, mana spent. Gildegant crumpled with her, her breath hitching as though she were drowning in open air. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, unacknowledged.
They laid her down gently. Her legs still twitched, half-dangling off the edge of the cart, a trickle of blood slipping from a raw seam and tapping the earth with a soft pat.
”Good job,” Suzette murmured, the words more exhale than praise. “Just a bit… no, actually, visible progress in the regeneration.”
She returned with a cup of water. Gildegant sat up—barely—snatched it, and drank in greedy gulps. The cup clattered across the floorboards as she let it drop, the sound a hollow, rolling echo.
With a final grunt, she flopped backward, limbs splayed like she’d just run a war campaign solo.
”Ah, thought I was gonna die,” she said, voice frayed and crackling with adrenaline. “Hurt so much, my brain’s gonna fry.”
The words rasped from her mouth like smoke from a battlefield. The dragon meat—impossibly tough, nearly inedible—had been forced down for the sake of regeneration. Now the healing magic burned through her like kindling soaked in liquor.
”This is just one leg,” she muttered hoarsely, eyes unfocused. “It’ll take forever. And for the arm… we’ll need what, twenty rounds?”
”Are you kidding?” she groaned, barely audible. “Screw that. This is bullshit. I’m gonna lose it.”
She cursed like someone choking on heat, the words leaking out before thought could catch them. Pain curled through her bones like smoke under a door. Regrowing limbs—it was madness. If pain were the only price, every fool with a pension and a death wish would sign up tomorrow.
Suzette wrung out a towel from the nearby bucket. She dabbed sweat from Gildegant’s brow, moved down her arms and legs, slow and methodical, like an acolyte tending a goddess fallen to ruin.
Their eyes met. The general’s stare was knotted with pain, but laced with something else too—warning, maybe. Her face, twisted with fury and fatigue, made her look like she might swing if Suzette so much as blinked wrong.
”Klock. Blanket.”
”Sure,” he said, handing it over without delay.
He was getting used to these barked orders, like a soldier learning the rhythm of war drums. The general had stripped down to a linen shirt and shorts for ease—her usual armor useless, her body half-crucified by healing. As night deepened and the cold crept in, her skin shivered with it. But changing clothes with one arm, in this condition? Impossible.
She stared up at the hemp curtain stretched over the cart ceiling, eyes glazed. Once the blanket was tucked around her, she fell still, lashes lowering. Silent. Waiting for sleep to carry her off, if it would.
Klock glanced around. If she slept right there, dead center on the cart bed, where the hell were they supposed to sleep?
He scratched his head in muted protest, but then a sharp tug on his sleeve yanked his attention sideways.
It was Suzette. She gave a small, purposeful wave, then hopped down from the carriage like a whisper taking human form.
He followed, brushing aside leaves and twigs as they entered the forest’s edge. The sound of dry foliage underfoot rustled like paper torn slowly in a quiet room.
They reached a hillside just above the wagon’s hiding spot. She turned, her silhouette sketched faintly by moonlight.
”Now’s the time to align our future plans,” she said softly, every word clipped with spy-trained precision. “For now, we stay close to Gildegant-san. Handle her gently, observe, adapt.”
Her voice was quiet but decisive. The kind of tone that made men listen or die trying.
Klock nodded. This felt like the old days—briefings before infiltration, whispered planning under threat of fire. In situations like these, communication wasn’t optional. It was survival.
”I agree,” he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “She’s not someone you defy. First time we met, I almost died. If I’d waited even half a second longer, I’d have been charcoal.”
”…That was dangerous,” Suzette agreed, her expression grim. “All the Four Heavenly Kings are like that, but she’s feared for a reason. Approach her with absolute respect.”
It was easy to see why. Gildegant radiated menace the way a forge gives off heat—inescapable. But unlike many tyrants Klock had met, she didn’t seem deceptive. No double-edged smile, no veiled threats. Just raw power and brutal honesty.
If she’d really come to the Beast Kingdom to heal, and they could help… maybe they’d survive her company. She had a softness toward Suzette that was hard to ignore.
”Please be very careful of her movements from now on,” Suzette added, stepping slightly closer. Her gaze sharpened. “You’re a bit rough around the edges, and I know it. That’ll make her uneasy if you’re not careful.”
Klock sighed. He knew. The swagger, the unfiltered mouth, the air of someone who’d been raised by mercenaries instead of mothers—it didn’t sit well with people who expected polish.
”…And there’s one thing I’m curious about.”
Suzette’s eyes narrowed as she stepped forward. Her movements were fluid, deliberate—like a trap snapping shut in slow motion. She circled to his side, her expression composed, chin tilted with clinical poise.
As she closed the distance, he caught the soft trace of perfume—floral, earthy, undeniably hers. A scent he’d come to associate with steadiness, precision… and danger.
His brow furrowed. “Suzette…?”
Then her hand reached him.
Firm. Low. Undeniable.
”Huh?”
His voice cracked in shock. He staggered backward until his spine struck bark, the rough surface biting through his shirt.
”I need to confirm something,” Suzette said, her voice ice over velvet. “You’re not thinking anything inappropriate about her… about the general of the Demon Lord, are you?”
Understanding dawned, late and loud. He raised both hands in surrender, palms up like a prisoner caught mid-crime.
She was right up against him now. Close enough to feel the heat off her skin. Close enough for her words to sink in like needles.
”I’ve been watching you,” she said, her hand never moving. “Your eyes linger. Those beastly, lewd looks—don’t think I didn’t catch them. Do you understand how dangerous it is to let your thoughts go there? She’s not just some officer. She’s one of the Four. Lusting after her is suicidal.”
”No, no, what are you talking about?” he stammered, a helpless laugh caught in his throat. “I have no such intentions. I’m all about Suzette.”
In reply, she pressed down harder—so precisely that his thighs tensed and nearly lifted off the earth. A strained grunt escaped him, low and involuntary, as her body locked him in place with clinical accuracy. Her gaze bore into him, unreadable.
Pinned between her grip and the rough bark behind him, Klock realized two things at once:
One—he wasn’t going anywhere.
And two—she wasn’t joking.
”What do you mean, what’s okay?” she said, her tone as smooth as cold steel. “You practically drool, then claim it’s unintentional? Was it necessary to bring your face so close to my ass when you were drying me off?”
”No, it’s not that… It really isn’t!” His voice cracked with urgency, palms lifting as if in surrender.
Unavoidable. The word floated to the front of his mind like driftwood—he didn’t know what, exactly, was unavoidable. Only that it was.
He scrambled to defend himself, desperate and wide-eyed. Taller than her by several inches, he somehow still managed to speak from beneath her presence.
Suzette, impassive, kneaded a fist slowly in her palm as if weighing his sincerity. “…Don’t you feel your balls are a bit heavy?” she asked, her voice dry as dust. “Were you maybe hoping to have a little fun with Sir Gildegant? Getting your ‘special fluid’ ready in advance? That’s irrefutable evidence, Klock. How could you deny it with something like that?”
”I swear I’m not that obvious about it!” he said quickly, his voice breaking like glass.
She stared at him from mere inches away, the wind raking through the trees in a hush that should’ve chilled the air—but didn’t. It felt oddly warm, like a body pressed near.
”Sir Klock,” she said, her tone leveling. “Let me make myself clear: I know you understand I’ve been ignoring your extracurriculars. A normal woman would’ve walked away long ago. I’ve let you get away with a lot. But Sir Gildegant is absolutely off-limits.”
He nodded, fast and full of contrition.
And she saw it—he wasn’t just playing at guilt. He really was upset about something.
As for the whole nose incident, well… that was beside the point. He hadn’t meant anything by it. Any man—any human—might’ve reacted the same when faced with a naked woman.
Still, he stood his ground. His defense was honest. Earnest, even.
The silence that followed was thick enough to touch. The forest breathed around them. Leaves rustled. She said nothing, and he felt the pressure at his pelvis dissolve as she closed her eyes. Like a siege lifted, the tension in his body slipped away.
He exhaled quietly, tension easing from his spine.
”I’m glad you understand,” she murmured at last. “I know you need somewhere to put all that energy. I’ve known for three months now it’s impossible with just the two of us. But I have limits, Klock. I’ll look the other way up to a point. But not when it comes to people with power. That kind of thing? It won’t stay a game.”
Her face drifted closer, and then—without warning—their lips touched.
Softly. Like forgiveness delivered on a breath.
She kissed him like it meant something. No bite. No smirk. Just the warmth of her mouth coaxing an apology from his skin.
”…Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, voice quieter now, more tethered. “I swear I didn’t mean it. I’ve been telling the villagers Suzette’s my woman.”
”I know,” she said, drawing back just enough to speak, her breath brushing his lips. “Someone came to ask me permission to take our children.”
His belt gave a soft cha-ching, subtle as a charm being unfastened. Her hand moved deftly, slipping into the space between fabric and skin. The night air found him first, cool against the heat still burning through him.
She broke the kiss, eyes flicking downward with intention.
And then—deliberately, unapologetically—her hand closed around him.
”…Un,” she murmured, almost conversationally, as she knelt.
Her mouth met him in a single, seamless motion.
It wasn’t about shock. It wasn’t even about lust. It was about connection—how precisely she knew him, how the warmth of her lips was always a step ahead of his need. The contact was soft, wet, enveloping. Nothing rushed. Just slow, certain immersion.
For all her venom, her mouth was sweet. Almost unbearably so.
So this was how the interrogation ended—with an apology rendered in exquisite silence.
Suzette had always been like this. After a day of complaints and sharpened words, her remorse took physical form—tender, attentive, almost reverent.
He felt her cheek press against the line of his hip as she drew him in, tongue coaxing shape from softness. Her movements were practiced, unhurried, a kind of worship he never quite deserved.
His body remembered her as easily as breath.
Her rhythm built slowly, each motion deliberate. The warmth of her mouth encased him, her tongue tracing slow, measured circles. His spine arched slightly. His hands clenched into the bark behind him.
”Nn… fuu… tsu, nn,” she murmured, the hum of her voice sending shivers down the length of him.
When he was fully hard, she shifted her grip, drawing her mouth back, then forward again—deeper this time. She worked him with focused grace, lips sliding, tongue shaping the pressure.
There was even thoughtfulness in how she anchored his pants—half to keep them from slipping further, half to protect him from the cool air. No other woman had ever done that for him. Only Suzette.
Every wet sound was a velvet hush, every flick of her tongue a private vow.
”I’m really sorry for making you worry needlessly,” he said, breath ragged. “I’ll… I’ll try to stop cheating. For real.”
”Nn…” she replied without pausing, her tone skeptical. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. You’re only saying that because my mouth is full.”
He smiled helplessly and, unable to stop himself, reached forward. His hand slid beneath the soft weave of her collar, into the hollow warmth of her blouse. Fingers found the lace edge of her bra, then slipped under, meeting the heavy warmth of her breasts. He cupped one gently, thumb brushing the taut bud at its center.
He kneaded slowly, reverently—savoring.
”I really don’t care about other women,” he whispered. “As long as you’re here, I’m satisfied.”
”Nn,” she replied again, mouth still full, pace steady. “You’re always saying that. But I know you. You’ll probably go back to the village and spend all day screwing Ms. Riko. Then you’ll come home, act like nothing happened, and try to seduce me all over again.”
He stroked her hair gently, as if to say I know. As if to say thank you anyway.
In reply, the rhythm of her mouth quickened—the heat, the suction, the wet glide of her lips growing more intense.
He closed his eyes.
And let himself fall.
”No way. I love Suzette. I love her so much that I can’t even imagine anyone else,” he declared, his voice firm but edged with something fragile.
She cocked an eyebrow, her tone sharp and teasing as she shot back, “That’s rich. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened when we escaped the Empire by ship. If there were two women, you’d have one pressing against you while your lips found the other’s. You’d speak like you loved them both, but in your mind, you’d be tracing every curve, weighing one body against the other. That’s exactly the kind of man you are. You’d take anyone willing—just to feel something.”
There was a knowing in her voice, a deep understanding of male desire that unsettled him. And, true enough, the comparisons had played out in his mind—the way Adelina’s lithe, taut form had held him, how her every movement promised fierce intensity, contrasted with Suzette’s softer, rounder embrace that seemed sculpted for intimacy. Anyone with two women would entertain such thoughts. Anyone, that is.
”There it is again,” she murmured, voice low, eyes narrowing as she studied him. “You might never say it aloud now, but it’s clear you still remember the way Adelina moved beneath you. Seems you’ve got another woman in your head. Time to stop pretending. We should head back soon, or Sir Gildegant will start asking questions.”
Her gaze pinned him like a verdict. He had no retort—how could he, when she seemed to read every unspoken longing through the subtle betrayals of his body? Adelina had been exceptional, no less than Suzette, and regret curled quietly beneath his skin.
He surrendered to the rising heat inside him, slow and insistent. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, then shifted her focus, guiding the moment with deliberate care. Her mouth moved with practiced precision, a gentle pressure that whispered promises, lips parting with soft resistance before drawing him deeper.
There was a delicate tension as her tongue traced the crown, circling and coaxing with exquisite patience, igniting a shiver that traveled from his core. His breath hitched at the softness of her lips, the slick warmth of her touch—a sensation at once tender and electric.
His body responded with quiet urgency. When he was fully claimed, she welcomed him with a steady, unhurried rhythm, cradling and directing without haste. She seemed to know instinctively, the subtle shift in his breathing a signal to deepen her care.
After one last gentle pull, she released him. His desire surged, poised on the edge.
—….
The pleasure bloomed suddenly, spreading warmth and light through him without effort or motion, a quiet explosion that left him breathless and overwhelmed. Suzette’s hands gripped his hips, steady and sure.
”Nn… Ahh, chu, churu… Nn,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe.
She was the kind of woman who could lead a seasoned man to the brink with nothing but touch and intuition. It would take no more than a few months for her to master him utterly.
She swallowed with effortless grace, as if it were the most natural thing in the world—deep, steady, with no hesitation. The taste and warmth filled her, and she continued to stroke him with slow, tender care, coaxing every last tremor from him.
His body responded in kind, releasing the last of its fire, each pulse gradually fading until only the softest echo remained. When the spasms eased, she gave one final, lingering caress.
The lingering warmth threatened to dissolve him entirely. He longed to collapse into her, to bury his face in the comforting curve of her body and let the world fall away.
His fingers tangled in her sleek hair, savoring the quiet aftermath of their closeness. After a few breaths, she finally pulled away, the sound of her lips parting—a gentle, almost reverent suction—echoing softly in the room.
Her tongue brushed lightly over the tip, a delicate, almost shy gesture. Then, as if offering a quiet benediction, she pressed a small, tender kiss to him.
* * *
”Man, that was intense. If she weren’t mine, I’d have kidnapped her for sure,” he murmured, voice rough with disbelief.
”What are you saying?” she asked, brow lifting in amused suspicion.
She licked her lips, rose fluidly, and began tidying the aftermath with practiced grace. She favored this particular intimacy partly because the aftermath was easier to manage—no mess to linger on skin or fabric. Over time, her skill had sharpened to an artful efficiency, a quiet ritual that demanded care and presence rather than haste.
Their daily encounters had settled into a rhythm, familiar yet never mechanical. She always made sure her actions conveyed intention, a kind of reverence for the moment, never mere routine. But she had less patience for the mess left behind from other encounters—those coarse, careless touches—and nothing set her on edge like recklessness with privacy. Sex was a carefully negotiated dance; discretion was part of the pact.
”Sir Klock, please return to the carriage,” she said, voice lowered but firm, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ll be back soon with some dry kindling. If we come back together, people might start to notice.”
So, it seemed the evening would not spiral into something more. He nodded, accepting the truce, as Suzette turned and disappeared into the gathering shadows of the forest.
He watched her retreat—just moments ago she’d been so tender, attentive, and now she moved away with swift purpose. Normally, he might have insisted she stay close, let the fire between them keep burning, but they’d agreed: no full indulgence until town, where baths awaited and they could be unguarded without consequence.
He wondered what she’d say if he asked about their interrupted closeness. Perhaps he could claim a brief distraction—a trip to relieve himself.
A flicker of dissatisfaction stirred. Suzette’s usual cool detachment was a shield, but one he respected. He turned back along the path toward the carriage.
Did the Flame General sleep already? The thought of more formalities was exhausting—and he had no desire to lose his place to her commanding presence. If she was awake, perhaps a word was due.
”Hey, where the hell have you been?” The voice cut through the quiet carriage like a whip.
He stepped inside, met by a glare and a volley of questions.
”Just stepped out to take a leak. Suzette’s out gathering kindling,” he replied, voice steady, casual.
It was crucial to sound unfazed.
He sank onto the bench, but then—
”Huh?”
A sharp hand shot out, clasping his leg with surprising force.
”Klock, I don’t appreciate the lies,” she said, ice threading her tone.
”Huh?!” The sudden grip tightened with a faint, ominous crunch. It was no ordinary strength—slender but unforgiving. The kind of grip that could crush bone beneath its pressure.
”My lies don’t work on you, do they? Where were you, really?”
The words “Unique Skill” and “trap” flickered in his mind—the ability to read truth like open text. But Suzette had said nothing; this was all inference.
”It hurts, -ssu! N-no, it’s not like that! I—I just had something hard to say, so I ended up…” His voice stumbled.
”Oh? Then say it quickly. What were you sneaking around doing behind my back?”
Gildegant yanked his leg closer. He stumbled from the seat and knelt at her feet, eyes meeting her cold, unyielding gaze.
”Um, sis… Me and Suzette, we’re… in that kind of relationship…” His words came out soft, hesitant.
”Huh?”
Her temperament was wildfire—words had to be chosen with care. Denial might tighten the noose, given her sight for truth. It was safer to be honest, but careful.
”Um, well… I was doing something… intimate with Suzette…” He forced the truth out. The memory of those shadowed moments was undeniable.
Gildegant blinked, stunned for a heartbeat. Then laughter spilled, sharp and reckless, dispelling the tension.
”I see, I see, got it. So, Suzette’s your girl. You snuck off because of me, huh?”
”Uh, -ssu…” His legs were freed, but the tips of his toes tingled numb with residual pressure. She was no ordinary woman; her strength was otherworldly. A force to reckon with—one of the Demon Lord’s Four Heavenly Kings.
”So I interrupted your little adventure. But you do realize Suzette owes me, right? How could you think to do this now? Or did Suzette come on to you?”
”Huh? Ah… well, maybe I misread things a bit…”
He recalled his apology earlier. They weren’t naïve youths; restraint was natural in such times. Honestly, he might not have acted if pressed less.
”Ah, so you were looking at me with those eyes, then got mad and attacked you?”
”No, no! Misunderstanding! I was just trying to… make amends, -ssu. I’m totally devoted to Suzette…”
The topic was delicate, raw—awkward if mishandled. But Gildegant seemed without filter. Perhaps she was just honest to a fault.
”Hey, hey, I can’t just let that slide. Misunderstanding, huh?”
Her grin turned wicked as she yanked him closer again. There was no room to resist—his body was drawn in by relentless strength. Her arms curled around his neck, and the Flame General looked down with a sly smile.
”Not a misunderstanding. You got your face so close to my rear I could feel your breath. Right?”
”…Hey, sorry ’bout that.” Shee flushed, trying to dismiss it lightly.
”I haven’t smelled anything,” he thought wryly.
”Oi, what the hell are you casually admitting? You basically stole my subordinate. If you mess with my mood, I’ll take Suzette back to the Demon Continent.”
”Seriously?” he asked, and Gildegant’s grin twisted lewdly.
She seemed to mock him, and it grated.
Her teasing was like a tipsy friend’s—but her point was sharp.
Suzette was supposed to return home eventually, but now she’d fled, and all eyes blamed Klock for pushing her away. Gildegant saw it like a kind of elopement, but the burden fell squarely on him.
”If you want to hide out here, don’t mess with me. Your lives are in my hands, understand?”
”No, no, of course. I’m totally following you, sis.” He raised a hand in surrender, his tone deferential.
There was pressure on his chest—tight and unyielding—an invisible weight that kept his focus razor-sharp. Knowing a slight misstep could snap the delicate balance made relaxation impossible.
She leaned in, the warmth of her presence pressing close, and reached out her hand. Though his neck was free, her fingers slipped smoothly beneath his garments. A reflexive grip caught her wrist, but her hand moved with confident ease, sliding lower, closing around him firmly.
”…Big,” she murmured, voice low.
The sensation startled him—it had been a while, this second encounter.
”Did you use this… to satisfy Suzette?” she asked, her fingers kneading the flesh with deliberate curiosity.
Her eyes narrowed playfully, a smirk curling her lips as she regarded him with a suspicion reminiscent of Suzette when hunting for secrets.
”That serious Suzette,” she mused, “throwing away her job to run off with a man. Even with danger closing from all sides, it’s hard to imagine. But it happened. I wonder when and how she chose her man… hey, Klock?”
Her fingers pinched and rolled the tip with casual familiarity.
Gildegant’s gaze held the same sharp suspicion Suzette wore when unraveling infidelity. It was a silent challenge, a battlefield in its own right.
Klock knew then—the true test had begun.
Notes:
• Suzette – The older maid from Viscount Fennec. The head maid at the Viscount Fennec’s villa. She is confident, clear-spoken, and professional.
• Gildegant – One of the Four Generals of the Demon Lord. Flame General.
• Riko – The village head’s granddaughter; has black hair and dog ears; interested in Klock romantically; 20 years old.
• Adelina – The slave girl.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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