bdsm-fiction Chapter 7, Section 7: Who told me I liked to toy with little boys?
Chapter 7, Section 7: Who told me I liked to toy with little boys?
Looking at the elegant and dignified stranger in front of him, Ian felt an unavoidable sense of nervousness.
Although he possessed the talent to enter mysterious environments, he had only encountered two people in this world.
The woman in front of me is the third one.
This is the world of the dead.
Who knows what kind of identity and past this woman has?
"Who are you?"
Ian quietly prepared to run away.
In response to Ian's question, the young woman raised an eyebrow slightly.
"That poor girl went with your vagabond friend to look for the ridiculous golden apple. How could there be a golden apple in this godforsaken place?"
Her words were clearly tinged with sarcasm.
Wanderer friend?
Ian quickly realized that the person the mysterious young woman was referring to was another of his friends. This friend, like Ariana, was a wandering spirit.
Pandro Nategger.
It's a very ordinary name, but he's a young man full of passion for adventure. That's probably why the mysterious young woman in front of him calls him "the Wanderer."
Even within the hazy, dreamlike realm, Pandro tirelessly explored this world for countless years. In his own words, he had lost track of time.
This is a soul that has lived for at least a thousand years, yet its face miraculously remains that of a fifteen-year-old. Perhaps this is the magic of the mystical realm. According to Ariana, who also lives in this world, when she first met Pendro, he already had that youthful face.
It's unclear whether Pandelo offended the mysterious young woman in front of him.
Do you have a relationship with them?
What kind of relationship?
Ian couldn't suppress his gossipy nature.
He didn't know much about Pandro Nateg, but his impression of this friend was that he had the wisdom of an elder and the spirit of a youth.
He can also be a bit silly at times.
It's unlikely to be a character from the original work, since Ian had never heard of this name before, either historically or from his understanding of the original work.
I don't know what kind of obsession it was.
That's why Pandro Nateg stayed in this dreamlike illusion for so many years.
Adventure missions like "finding the golden apple" are indeed things that Pendro would do, and bringing Ariana along as a partner is also his style.
Ian recalled how Pendro had once pulled him along when he was five years old, excitedly saying that they were going to find the despicable Helbo... the most notorious dark wizard in the wizarding world.
I?
Five years old?
To beat up the despicable Hailbo?
Ian still finds this past event absurd whenever he thinks about it.
"Is this the golden apple I'm referring to in fairy tales?"
Looking at the elegant young woman in the black dress in front of him, Ian tried his best to be humble, and he even tried to use his youth to make an innocent expression.
"What a showy but impractical thing! Do you expect the golden apple tree to bloom in this world?" the noblewoman continued to mock, looking at Ian as if he were a fool.
"I cut down the last apple tree long ago when I was alive, not to mention that there's no way there could be golden apples in the Illusory Realm." The woman's tone was very certain.
"Do golden apples exist in this world?"
Ian was somewhat taken aback.
At that moment, the mysterious young woman turned her head, her stunning face suddenly moving closer to Ian, even taking two steps forward. A fragrance of roses wafted over.
Ian quickly stepped back.
The mysterious young woman was incredibly intimidating, both in terms of her aura and everything else.
"What do you consider a fairy tale? Does a wizard count?"
These words were spoken.
Ian was rendered speechless by the question.
Looking at Ian in front of him.
The mysterious young woman suddenly smiled.
"Although you are indeed a fool, as dull as a pig, who told you to be different?" She raised her fair finger and pointed to the castle that was faintly visible in the distant mountains and forests.
"If you want to learn magic, go find me there."
Following the direction of her finger, Ian saw the ancient and gloomy castle, its exterior eroded by time, and immediately realized what it meant.
It turns out that this woman is the witch from the castle that Ariana often mentions!
really.
The urge to run away wasn't cowardice! It was simply a wizard's instinct! Yes! That's it... It must be a natural sensitivity to powerful wizards!
"What do I need to give in return?"
Ian mentally reassured himself, and he remained cautious in the face of the mysterious witch's invitation, after all, there's no such thing as a free lunch.
"Um?"
The witch looked at Ian with a surprised expression, and even walked around him, letting her black robe slide on the muddy ground.
It was completely untouched by any filth.
"It seems you are unaware of just how special you are..."
The witch chuckled.
immediately.
Then, another fancy face-changing act.
"Of course, the fact that you understand the rules of the wizarding world at such a young age means that you are only temporarily slow-witted, which is not a bad thing in the real world."
The witch stopped and looked into Ian's eyes.
"If you truly wish to adhere to the principle of equivalent exchange, then bring my magic mirror back to me."
After she finished speaking, Ian saw a hint of reminiscence in her beautiful eyes, but her tone quickly returned to its coldness.
That look of longing vanished without a trace.
"Find my mirror and bring it to me... You will learn the most powerful magic from me."
"Mirror?"
Ian frowned, somewhat puzzled.
The witch did not respond, but instead gave a meaningful smile.
"Actually, even if you don't get the mirror, you can still come to me to learn." She smiled mysteriously, and it was unclear whether she was deliberately trying to scare Ian.
"It's because I enjoy toying with little boys."
Words that sound slightly sinister.
The witch had barely finished speaking.
Ian sensed his time was up. In his last moments, he saw only the elegant witch watching him slowly become transparent and disappear.
After the sound of the two talking was lost.
The whole town fell silent once again.
The witch's expression slowly turned dejected. She turned around, her high heels clicking on the cobblestone path, and walked into the quiet forest, returning to her castle.
The castle stands in a forest clearing, with vines twining around the high stone walls, which bear the marks of time, and sharp spires piercing the dark, cloud-covered sky.
The weather here.
It's the complete opposite of what you'd find in a small town.
It was gloomy and heavy, but once you pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, you would see the magnificent scene inside the castle—a carved marble table was placed in the center of the spacious hall, covered with a bright red silk tablecloth, on which gold-rimmed tableware was scattered, and the roaring flames in the fireplace reflected the shadows of the exquisite murals on the walls.
The story of the knight and princess in the painting seems to come back to life in the firelight.
The witch moved with graceful steps, and from the moment she entered the castle, everything around her began to work automatically.
Candles lit up one by one, tablecloths flew down from the air and landed on the table automatically, the tableware was neatly arranged, and all kinds of food floated out from the kitchen, placed on plates, and flew neatly onto the dining table.
Among them was a roasted suckling pig, its skin gleaming golden brown.
The witch glanced at it, and then, after remaining silent, suddenly whispered, "I've already seen a stupid pig today, I don't want to see another one..."
After saying that, the little pig returned to the kitchen from the air, and soon a little lamb flew onto the dining table in the same way.
The witch's clothes shimmered with unseen magical starlight, becoming impeccably clean and tidy. She didn't eat anything, but slowly walked into the bedroom.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all...?"
In the empty room, the witch seemed to be talking to herself, sitting in front of the dressing table which lacked a mirror, murmuring softly in a slightly self-deprecating and complex voice.