Snap!
The next morning, a crisp sound rang through the forest, startling flocks of birds from their nests. Wings fluttered in panic as they scattered across the treetops.
Over ten minutes later, Circe dragged herself out of bed, yawning as she opened her door. The moment she looked up, the great witch burst into laughter.
"What happened to your face?"
"Ran into a tree. Problem with that?"
Samael instinctively rubbed his left cheek, the corner of his mouth twitching in irritation as he gave a short, cold snort.
Circe arched her brow, lifting her chin proudly for once. "Please. Don't think I'm that gullible. That's a slap mark. Someone hit you."
Samael leaned in close, his expression darkening, slit pupils narrowing and expanding. "You really want to know?"
Circe instantly froze. She felt like a tiny bird trapped under a serpent's gaze, her face draining of all color as she shook her head furiously.
"Curiosity kills birds too, you know. Be good."
"Mm-hmm! I'm always good," she nodded quickly.
"Then move. Why are you standing there?"
Satisfied with how quickly the frightened witch scurried aside, Samael strolled past her into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it onto the rack.
"W-what are you doing?"
Circe stiffened, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, her voice trembling.
"Sleeping."
Samael's answer came flatly. Behind him, the witch gasped sharply, her mind spinning. Could it be… this bastard had been holding back all this time and was finally ready to make his move?!
What should I do? If I fight back, I'll lose. If I resist… I'll be eaten.
So… I should just lie down quietly?
"What are you staring at? I'm taking a bath first. Get out."
Just as Circe's expression shifted from despair to faint resignation and she was taking hesitant steps toward the bed, the sharp bark of his voice snapped her out of it.
"This is my room…"
The moment she said it, Circe wanted to slap herself. Why are you still talking back? Just run!
"It's my room now. Go play outside. I was up all night—I need to catch up on sleep."
At those commanding words, Circe lit up as though she'd just won a prize. Overjoyed, she bolted from the room at full speed, fleeing the little den that now felt more like a dragon's lair.
Tch. I'm just borrowing the bed, not you. What's with the trembling? And with that flat chest… there's nothing to tremble anyway.
A pair of A's? Sorry, not worth it.
Samael glanced out the window, grumbling inwardly. He erected a simple Barrier, stripped off his remaining clothes, and stepped into the bathroom.
He began by dipping his hands into the basin, scrubbing them thoroughly.
When he was done, he lifted his hand to his nose out of habit. The fresh scent of crushed grass, mixed with a faint floral sweetness, still lingered on his skin.
A surge of restless heat rose from his abdomen. The Ancient Serpent's lips twitched before he plunged into the tub of cool water, soaking for a long while until he finally floated weakly on the surface.
Last night got out of hand. The pace was too fast—and sure enough, the moment that "big sister" woke up, it all fell apart.
Everything had been fine in the first half of the night. On a whim, he'd wanted to test whether the legendary Divine Beast's Pelt really had that "enhancement" effect it was rumored to, so he'd convinced Atalanta to give it a try.
As it turned out, who could have guessed that thing had such a catch? Along with inheriting the primal power of nature, the big sister also had all her emotions amplified, her body gradually giving in to instinct.
At first, Atalanta—his intended grooming subject—had been stiff and restrained. But as things went on, she grew increasingly absorbed in the touch that, for a feline, bordered on pleasurable. Before long, she became restless and unsatisfied, rubbing herself against him.
If dawn hadn't broken, she might've ended up on top of him.
Leaning against the side of the tub, Samael opened his palm, revealing faint wisps of pale pink mist.
Sigh. Being the good guy never pays. I was only worried that the power of Eros hadn't fully cleared out last time. I even went out of my way to help her cleanse the lingering traces—completely, inside and out.
And what do I get for it? No thanks, no appreciation—just a slap the moment she came to her senses in shame and fury.
It's not my fault you're that sensitive! I nearly lost control, almost got dragged down with you, and somehow I'm the bad guy? Unbelievable.
Samael channeled the residue he had drawn from Atalanta's body into a heart-shaped pendant. Staring at the rippling surface of the water, he let out a small, bitter sigh.
If only the daylight hadn't weakened the Divine Beast's Hide, he could've helped the big sister cleanse her body even more thoroughly…
Nighttime really is better. Why does morning have to come so damn fast and ruin a good thing?
His gaze drifted toward the window, his mood deflating.
After this little episode, trying to sneak in for another grooming session was off the table for a while.
If he tried, that big sister—now hypersensitive and embarrassed—would probably swat him dead on the spot.
Otherwise, he wouldn't be stuck crashing in Circe's little cottage just to catch up on sleep.
In short, life was hard.
Being a good man was harder.
And being a principled good man? That was hardest of all.
...
"Achoo!"
Meanwhile, in her own room, Atalanta was washing herself with cold water, sneezing heavily as she scrubbed her skin red.
After a while, the huntress stepped out of the bath wrapped in a towel. She threw herself onto the bed, arms and legs spread wide. But the moment she closed her eyes, flashes of the previous night surged through her mind, her cheeks flushing deep crimson as heat stirred in parts she wished wouldn't react.
No! I need another wash!
Barely a few seconds after lying down, Atalanta sprang to her feet and bolted back into the bathroom.
Shameful! I'm a devotee of the Goddess Artemis! I swore an oath of chastity! How could I think such filthy thoughts—let alone behave like that?!
It's all that brat's fault! Saying how pretty my ears and tail looked… how they matched that damned pelt…
Feeling her body's sensitivity heighten again, Atalanta glared furiously at the crimson-black Divine Beast's Hide hanging on the rack. Her teeth ground together; she wanted nothing more than to tear two pounds of flesh off a certain someone.
But the more she tried to suppress her thoughts under the icy water pouring over her, the more vivid those indecent images became.
The once-proud and confident huntress now sat with her wet cat ears drooping and her tail limp, her expression caught between frustration and despair.
Lady Goddess... I think I'm beyond saving...
...
That afternoon, when Samael finally woke from his nap and heard Circe's report, he froze.
"You said… the big sister's gone?"
"Yeah. A really big, fancy carriage came to pick her up."
"Why didn't anyone wake me?"
"She told me not to…"
Circe shrank back, looking nervously at Samael, who stood silently by the door.
"It's fine. If she wanted to go, no one could've stopped her anyway. Not your fault."
The Ancient Serpent sighed, gently patting Circe's head in reassurance.
The great witch exhaled in relief, then hurried off to fetch Caenis—who was halfway through a farewell drink—and brought her back to Samael.
"Um… the hunt's over, right? Caenis is heading back to Athens. I'd like to go with her."
"Got enough money?"
"Mm-hmm! Plenty."
"Good. Then have Caenis make sure you eat well, drink well, and have fun."
Samael came back to himself with a small smile. Then, as if remembering something, he returned inside, packed a few items, and handed them to Circe. He watched quietly as the two made their way toward the palace gates.
But after only a few steps, Circe stopped, spun around, and ran back, thrusting a rolled-up parchment into Samael's hands.
"I got so excited earlier, I almost forgot—this was from the big sister. She left it for you before she went."
As Circe and Caenis disappeared into the distance, Samael unfolded the parchment. A faint light glimmered in his eyes as he whispered softly:
Arcadia…