Chapter 794: Corrupting the Pure and Beautiful
Ren's gaze sweeps over her. Theresa stands perfectly still, her posture elegant, offering no resistance to his intense scrutiny.
"My beautiful lady, do you have any idea what is happening right now?"
Theresa shifts her gaze past him. Four figures lie sprawled across the beach chairs, their clothes disheveled, chests rising and falling in deep, exhausted slumber. She tilts her head, her expression entirely natural. "Do I also need to serve the Lord?"
Ren doesn't miss a beat. A wicked grin tugs at his lips. "You are more than welcome to try. If you don't understand how, I can always teach you."
He steps forward, closing the distance. The sheer, unfiltered weight of his presence makes even her breath hitch for a fraction of a second. A faint, rosy tint dusts Theresa's usually placid cheeks. Yet, carrying the poise of a former Sarkaz King, she quickly steadies her racing pulse.
"Just kidding."
His tone carries a casual edge, leaving it entirely ambiguous whether he was actually joking. "Ren. That's my name."
"Ren..." Theresa tests the syllables on her tongue, her voice soft and melodic. "A sun shining toward the future?"
"Let's drop that comparison. I don't think I'm much of a sun."
The imagery of a warm, nurturing star doesn't fit him in the slightest. Ren prefers the shadows, the absolute authority to cover the sky with a single hand and take exactly what he wants, whenever he wants it.
"My name is Theresa. It seems Mr. Ren already knows who I am?" Even standing before a man exuding the aura of an absolute predator, she maintains her gentle, conversational tone.
Ren ignores the question, crossing his arms. "Do you understand your current state?"
Theresa straightens her posture, her pink eyes dimming slightly with thought.
"I have a few guesses," she says gently. "In my last memories... I died during that war."
A complex wave of emotion washes over her features at the mention of the past. Yet, there is no trace of malice, no burning hatred toward the one who orchestrated her end. She had embraced her inevitable death with open arms, understanding the cruel truth behind it. But breathing this fresh air, feeling the sand beneath her boots...
"Am I... resurrected?"
Ren chuckles. "What makes you so sure this isn't just a dream?"
Theresa turns her head, gazing out at the endless expanse of the ocean. A misty, wistful light gathers in her eyes.
"I did think it was an illusion at first," she admits softly. "There is no Originium dust choking the air. The sunlight is warm, the sea is a brilliant blue, and... I can no longer hear the agonizing wails of the land. This place is far too beautiful to be real."
The moment her boots pressed into the soft, pristine sand, she knew she was no longer standing on the sorrowful, scarred soil of Terra.
"You have a good eye. This is a private dimension I created," Ren says. He raises a hand, pointing down the shoreline. "And right through that door lies the continent of Terra."
Following his gaze, Theresa spots a familiar, heavy metallic door—a standard Rhodes Island dormitory entrance—standing completely out of place on the sunlit beach.
"As for why you are standing here breathing," Ren continues, his tone turning blunt. "W begged me to bring you back."
Theresa's gaze drifts back to the beach chairs. She spots W curled into a tight ball beneath a white sheet, her brow furrowed even in deep sleep. A storm of conflicting emotions grips the former Sarkaz King. To be pulled back from the abyss of death was unfathomable enough. To learn that the chaotic, explosive mercenary was the one who orchestrated it...
"What did she have to pay?" Theresa asks, her voice tightening.
She knows the cruel laws of the world better than anyone. Miracles of this magnitude—reversing death itself—demand an astronomical toll.
"Exactly what it looks like," Ren replies without a shred of hesitation. "She sold herself to me."
He doesn't sugarcoat the transaction. In truth, Theresa had already pieced the puzzle together the moment she woke up. The heavy scent in the air, the exhausted state of the women, W's vulnerable posture—it all painted a very clear, obvious picture. There is no joy in her heart over her second chance at life. Instead, a heavy, melancholic sigh escapes her lips, mourning the sheer, stubborn persistence of the girl who idolized her.
'W...'she thinks, her chest aching.'You never had to go this far for my sake...'
Stepping forward, Theresa reaches out and gently grasps Ren's hand. She looks up at him, her pink eyes shining with absolute sincerity.
"Mr. Ren, may I bear the burden of this debt from now on?"
Ren raises an eyebrow, instantly reading the intent behind her words.
"Let me get this straight. You want to sell yourself to me to take W's place?"
Theresa nods slowly, her resolve unwavering.
"W gave everything to bring me back. I will not waste the precious life she bought for me," she says, her voice steady and resolute. "But as for the ongoing cost of this miracle... please, allow me to pay it with my own body."
Without waiting for a verbal confirmation, her slender fingers move to the collar of her dress. One by one, she slowly undoes the buttons. The fabric slips from her shoulders, pooling at her feet and baring her flawless, pale skin to the warm ocean breeze.
"Is this acceptable?" she asks softly.
Her stunning beauty, combined with the heartbreaking sincerity of her sacrifice, strikes a match straight into the core of Ren's base desires. The sheer contrast of a dignified, gentle queen offering herself so willingly makes his blood run hot.
Just as he is about to pull her close, Ren's sharp senses pick up a subtle shift in the air. He glances past her shoulder, his eyes locking onto the freestanding Rhodes Island dormitory door. A wicked, highly amused glint flashes in his eyes.
"I accept your terms."
A sweet, relieved smile blooms across Theresa's face. "Thank you very much."
Moving with innate grace, she slowly lowers herself to her knees on the sand. A faint dusting of pink colors her cheeks, betraying her shyness, but her eyes hold zero fear. She looks up at him, her expression thoughtful and earnest.
"Mr. Ren, I must confess that I have absolutely no experience with this sort of thing," she murmurs, her breath warm against him. "I only managed to learn a little by watching the others just now. Please forgive my clumsiness."
"Don't worry about it," Ren says, his voice dropping an octave. "I have plenty of time to teach you properly."
Theresa proves true to her word. Her movements are incredibly clumsy, yet painfully gentle and careful. She handles the unfamiliar territory with extreme caution, terrified that her teeth might accidentally scrape against him. Ren lets out a low breath, his fingers threading through her long, silky pink hair. Stroking the smooth strands, he finally understands exactly why W worships the ground this woman walks on. She is the physical embodiment of gentleness, dignity, and quiet courage—a beacon of pure, maternal warmth in a broken world.
But Ren is a pragmatic, unapologetic bastard at heart. He wants to see that flawless composure crack. He wants to see if this perfect, dignified queen can be pushed into absolute, flustered embarrassment.
With a mere thought, he silently shatters the spatial lock securing the dormitory door.
"Come in," he calls out loudly.
Theresa freezes. Her lips part slightly, and she tilts her head up, her pink eyes filled with utter confusion as she takes in the deeply mischievous smirk plastered across Ren's face.
A heavy metallic clunk echoes across the beach. The door behind her slowly swings open.
"Mr. Ren, we've finally made our decision!"
Amiya steps through the threshold, her voice bubbling with bright, innocent excitement. For a split second, the young Cautus leader is completely captivated by the impossible scenery—the endless blue sky, the fluffy white clouds, and the sparkling ocean waves crashing against the shore.
Then, her gaze drops. The picturesque illusion shatters.
Amiya's long bunny ears shoot straight up, stiff as boards. A violently bright crimson flush explodes from her collarbone, rapidly crawling up her neck and completely consuming her face. Her jaw drops.
"Kyaaaaaa!" A high-pitched shriek tears from her throat.
"What's wrong?!"
"Amiya!"
The panicked scream acts like a flare. Heavy footsteps rush through the doorway as Kal'tsit, the Doctor, and Hoshiguma pile into the pocket dimension, weapons drawn and ready for an ambush. Instead, they crash headfirst into the most compromising, absurd scene imaginable. The collective shock hits them like a physical blow.
"Hiss! What the hell is going on here?!" Hoshiguma gasps, her tall Oni frame locking up.
She immediately slaps her large hands over her face, though her fingers are spread wide enough to leave massive gaps. She stares at Ren through her fingers, her expression a chaotic mix of deep embarrassment and obvious curiosity.
Beside her, Kal'tsit and the Doctor don't even register the lecherous context of the scene. Their eyes are glued, completely paralyzed, to the naked back of the woman kneeling on the sand. Just the sight of those familiar shoulders, that flowing pink hair—it acts as a violent catalyst. Decades of buried grief, war, and countless fragmented memories crash into their minds like a tidal wave.
Ren casually leans back, a thoroughly unapologetic grin breaking the suffocating silence.
"Kal'tsit," he drawls, his tone dripping with amusement. "You really have a talent for picking the absolute worst times to drop by."
His grin widens into a full-blown, predatory smirk.
Down below, Theresa stiffens. The woman who had just been earnestly dedicating herself to paying off a debt freezes completely at the sound of that specific name. Slowly, agonizingly, the former Sarkaz King processes who is standing right behind her. The flawless, dignified composure shatters into a million pieces. A burning, overwhelming wave of pure embarrassment floods Theresa's face—giving Ren the exact, deliciously flustered reaction he had been waiting for.
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