Chapter 51: ⁵¹The Price of Obedience
Night completely swallowed Dorfyk. Leaving behind a winter sky dusted with frozen stars.
On the wooden porch, Ethan Valen gazed calmly at the sky. His black shirt was neat, his dress shoes free of snow. His eyes radiated an absolute calm following his victory this afternoon.
Valera Voss stood loyally by his side.
The bloodhound appeared immune to the night air. Her Zweihander was sheathed silently across her back. Her golden eyes surveyed the area with lethal instincts.
"We’re spending the night here," Ethan decided, breaking the silence. "Go inside."
They stepped inside. Valera immediately took up a position in the living room, leaning her back against the wall near the dim fireplace. Her weapon was placed within arm’s reach.
"I will stand guard here, My Master," Valera reported. "I am used to sleeping on hard ground."
Ethan merely gave a slow nod, then strode toward the only bedroom in the house.
Inside the dimly lit room, Miya Evarett lay curled up.
Her petite body was half-covered by a thick blanket. Her long blonde hair lay in a tangled mess across the pillow. Her light purple eyes were puffy and red from crying too much. Her pointed ears twitched softly upon hearing Ethan’s footsteps.
Miya had already changed out of her robe into a white nightgown. However, beneath that blanket, a new reality was etched that she could never erase.
Right on her left thigh, the perfectly blooming crimson rose Lust Brand resided. Its thorny vines spread wildly like cracks in flesh, as if the bloody rose was tearing its way out from within her body.
Ethan lay down on the empty side of the bed.
Without a single word, the young man reached out, wrapping his arm around Miya’s waist, before pulling her closer. The embrace was possessive, yet calm. There was absolutely no intent for violence.
Miya’s breath hitched instantly. Her body went as stiff as a board, bracing herself for torture.
However... that pain never came.
Minute after minute passed in silence. The cold night air slipping into the room was slowly driven away by the warmth of the young man’s chest beside her. A warmth that seeped straight through Miya’s nightgown.
Slowly, beyond the control of her sanity, Miya’s muscles began to relax.
Exhausted from weeping and battered by fear, the Priestess’s subconscious defenses crumbled. Unconsciously, Miya leaned in, resting her body against Ethan’s chest seeking asylum.
Ethan felt that slight shift. In the darkness, a faint, lethal smirk was carved onto the Demon Lord’s lips. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
Morning greeted them with a gray light through the gaps in the curtains. Light snow was still falling, solidifying winter’s dominance.
Ethan was already awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the still-sleeping Miya. The Elf’s face was incredibly peaceful, a stark contrast to the terror she endured yesterday afternoon.
"Wake up," Ethan ordered softly, yet absolutely.
Miya stirred slightly. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly. Her consciousness only fully gathered when her eyes collided with Ethan’s figure. Realizing her position, snuggled intimately into the young man’s embrace, Miya’s face instantly flushed as red as a boiled crab.
She hurriedly sat up, fixing her hair in a panic.
"I-I’ll... pack my things now," Miya squeaked, looking away, not daring to meet Ethan’s brown eyes.
Miya’s steps were slightly wobbly as she got out of bed, the aftereffects of the Sin Mana dismantling her magic circuit yesterday. She walked to the wardrobe, pulling out a practical leather satchel.
Essential ancient books, research notes, glass vials, and a small obsidian mortar were packed away efficiently.
Ethan merely watched from the edge of the bed. Having no intention of helping, but also not interfering.
Once the bag was packed, Miya stood in the center of the room. Her eyes swept over the half-empty bookshelves. The workbench stained with brews. The gap in the window where she used to peek out at the world.
For hundreds of years, she had hidden within these four walls. Today, she was leaving her protective shell behind.
"I am... ready," she whispered to herself.
"Not entirely," Ethan cut in, standing up. "There is one more thing I need to test with you."
Miya looked back warily. "W-what is it?"
Ethan raised his right hand. He focused his mind, summoning the magic element he had copied from the girl.
Light ignited in his palm. But it wasn’t the holy magic of a Priestess. It was Corrupted Light—Crimson Radiance. Its light was white, yet tainted with dense blood-red and pitch-black hues at its edges.
The exact moment that corrupted light appeared, the rose tattoo on Miya’s left thigh responded instantly.
"Ahk!" Miya gasped sharply. She immediately dropped to her knees, clutching her left thigh which had suddenly turned searing hot.
"Your light has changed, Miya," Ethan said coldly, staring at the glow in his hand. "Before I marked it with sin, your light was holy. But now... there is absolute darkness within it."
Miya stared at the light with ragged breaths. It was her magic, but it felt entirely foreign. There were traces of lust dwelling within it.
The next second, Ethan raised his left hand. This time, he summoned pure Sin Mana—pitch-black smoke symbolizing destruction.
The two opposing elements vibrated violently, repelling each other. Their energy ripples collided, causing the wooden floor to creak and groan.
"E-Ethan... what are you doing...?" Miya whimpered. The sensation on her thigh grew increasingly stinging, burning away her sanity.
Ethan smirked faintly. He brought his hands closer, forcing the Crimson Radiance and Sin Mana to fuse. Magical sparks flew wildly, distorting space.
Along with that forced fusion, Miya let out a small scream.
The Elf girl’s knees trembled violently. The sensation from her tattoo exploded twofold—burning, tingling, tearing at her nerves.
"E-Ethan... Shh... stop it... please, I can’t take it..." she sobbed desperately, squeezing her skirt.
"Call me My Master," Ethan ordered with an absolute baritone.
Miya’s eyes widened. Her tears pooled. "W-what...?"
Instead of stopping, Ethan increased his Sin Mana output. The fusion energy sphere expanded. To Miya, it equated to a multiplied torture.
Miya’s petite body instantly spasmed. Her hands flailed blindly, gripping the edge of the desk with all her might until her knuckles turned a deathly white.
"I-I... can’t—AAAHH...!" Miya shrieked, enduring an agonizing wave of pleasure that obliterated her logic. The sensation in her thigh now felt like a high-voltage electrical current.
No longer able to fight that biological authority, Miya’s ego shattered.
"M-My Master...! My Master... stop... hic... please, My Master..." she screamed amidst her sobs.
The moment that title was spoken, Ethan immediately extinguished his energy. The sphere of power vanished without a trace.
Losing her support, Miya collapsed to the floor. She gasped ravenously for air. Tears soaked her face.
"Good," Ethan praised coldly. "You learn very quickly."
Miya looked up. Behind her wet purple eyes, there was a flash of deep hatred—yet it was buried tightly beneath absolute submission.
"You’re a... devil..." she sobbed weakly.
"I’ve never denied it," Ethan answered lightly. The young man turned and walked out of the room, leaving the Priestess still slumped on the floor, catching her breath.
A few moments later, Miya followed him out.
She had composed herself and changed into a thick, hooded traveling cloak. Her leather bag was slung neatly over her shoulder.
Seeing Ethan and Valera already prepped in the living room, Miya stepped closer. Her mouth opened reflexively.
"Ethan, I’m read—"
The exact moment that name slipped out, Ethan’s right hand moved swiftly to touch his own left chest—where the Horned Crown was hidden beneath his shirt.
An incredibly small yet sharp surge of Sin Mana stung Miya’s Lust Brand.
"A-Ahh...!" Miya gasped sharply, clutching her thigh that had suddenly turned searing hot.
"You said my name wrong," Ethan reprimanded without intonation.
Miya bit her lip, enduring the residual sting. Her brain immediately processed this forced conditioning. Say Ethan, get punished. Say My Master, stay safe. A pet-like conditioning executed flawlessly.
"M-My Master... forgive me," Miya corrected softly.
Ethan released the touch on his chest, allowing the girl to breathe a sigh of relief.
The three of them stepped outside, walking down the path toward the village center.
Their formation was striking. Ethan led in the front, Miya in the middle, and Valera the executioner brought up the rear, her eyes scanning for any threats.
The villagers halted their work. The reclusive healer who practically never left her house, was now walking with a travel bag.
Seeing this, Granny Marta approached. Without hesitation, the elderly woman hugged Miya’s petite body.
"Child, you’ve finally gathered the courage to step outside," Granny Marta said, deeply moved. "I am so very proud of you."
Miya’s body went stiff. She wasn’t used to affectionate touches. Slowly, however, she returned the embrace awkwardly.
"T-Thank you, Granny... for everything..." she whispered.
Lina stood nearby with teary eyes. "Miss Miya... please be safe on your journey..."
Old Bart wiped his reddened nose. "You’ve cured us so many times. Now it’s time to help other people out there."
The fishmonger lady chimed in. "Don’t forget about us, Healer! This village will always be waiting for you to return!"
Miya fell silent. Her purple eyes swept across those sincere faces. The faces of the people who had been delivering vegetables and bread all this time without ever forcing her to open her door. There were so many things she wanted to say, but they caught in her throat.
"I-I... Thank you..." Miya’s voice faltered, yet it radiated pure sincerity. "...thank you for taking care of me all this time."
Granny Marta patted Miya’s back. "Go on, child. The outside world is waiting for you."
They arrived at the village gate bearing the name Dorfyk.
A few kids waved at Valera. "Miss Knight! See you later!"
Valera didn’t verbally reply, but gave a single, sharp nod that successfully made the children cheer in delight.
Beneath the gate, Miya paused.
She looked back. Staring intently at the snow-covered roofs, the smoking chimneys, and far off in the distance... her small house beneath the old oak tree that was now empty.
"You will return to this place one day," Ethan said from beside her. An absolute statement, not empty pleasantries.
Miya stared into the brown eyes of the young man who had simultaneously destroyed and saved her. "Are you... certain?"
"You are mine now, Miya," Ethan answered calmly. "But you also belong to this village. That fact will never change."
Miya fell silent. Then—for the very first time since this demonic manipulation began—an incredibly small smile appeared at the corner of the Priestess’s lips.
"I am ready... My Master."
Ethan nodded in satisfaction. "In that case, let’s head home now."
They stepped through the gate. Slowly, Dorfyk Village shrank, swallowed by the vastness of the snowfields and the shadows of the northern mountains.
In the very back of the line, Valera smirked faintly looking at the two backs in front of her. The bloodhound counted in her head: One more strong soul has fallen into the darkness.
The journey home braving the storm began. Back to the intrigues of Zenithar Academy. Back to Elara. And toward a very long new Chapter for one Miya Evarett.