Chapter 23

Lino, who had been violently thrashing his body in a desperate bid to break free from Grondil’s crushing grip, froze instantly, paralyzed by the sound of a past name he had buried and forgotten for years.

Did I mishear him? Why the hell is that name coming out of the Duke’s mouth?

“Why the sudden silence? Are you that shocked that I know your previous name?”

“How did you…”

Grondil, having successfully paralyzed Lino, released his brutal grip. As if apologizing for handling him so roughly, he slid his arms with surprising, terrifying gentleness under Lino’s armpits. Then, to ensure absolutely no further escape or resistance was possible, he locked one hand firmly around Lino’s throat, and with the other, he clamped down hard on the cock that had already ejaculated countless times under his command. Because both hands were currently holding the absolute most critical, lethal weak points on his body, Lino had no choice but to allow himself to be dragged helplessly backward, sinking back into the bathtub entirely under Grondil’s control.

Truthfully, even if the Duke hadn’t seized his weak points, the absolute moment the name Arno Neu Haklan had been spoken aloud, Lino would have surrendered voluntarily.

The lukewarm water—having lost its heat during the struggle—enveloped his body. As the burning heat radiating from his feverish skin was rapidly sapped by the cooling water, a violent wave of goosebumps erupted across his flesh. Because of the chill, the body heat radiating from Grondil, who was pressed seamlessly against his back, felt exponentially more scorching.

“How remarkably naive. Did you honestly believe I drafted you based solely on that pathetic resume?”

“Given that you know that name, I assume you conducted a thorough background check on me.”

“I did not personally handle it. My fiercely loyal Enoch managed the investigation. Though, you did carelessly leak a rather critical hint yourself.”

“…A hint?”

Lino echoed the word in pure disbelief. I leaked a hint? That’s completely impossible.

“You read the books written in ancient languages flawlessly. You were even casually browsing highly specialized, esoteric texts. To possess that level of absolute fluency in ancient languages, one must have received direct, extensive tutoring from Baron Haklan himself… Hmm, come to think of it, I doubt even Baron Haklan is as proficient in the ancient tongues as you are.”

“Ah…”

A long, devastated sigh escaped Lino’s lips at Grondil’s explanation. He had been far too complacent lately. During his initial days utilizing the study, if he spotted even a single character of ancient text, he would snatch the book, hide in the absolute deepest, darkest corner of the room, read it frantically, and leave. But as he grew increasingly comfortable with the estate, the Duke, and Enoch, his paranoia had faded, leading him to casually check out unfinished ancient texts to read in his room. Getting caught was practically inevitable.

Dammit. Lino bit down hard on his lip. He couldn’t flat-out deny the accusation, and the moment Baron Haklan was mentioned, his carefully controlled facial expressions had completely shattered in sheer horror. There was absolutely no point in wasting mental energy trying to hide it now.

What the hell do I do?

Just imagining having his back door ruthlessly obliterated by Grondil made his vision go black, and now, the past name he had so desperately, frantically buried had been completely exposed.

Arno Neu Haklan. The fact that the Duke had dropped this specific name strongly implied he knew absolutely everything: from Lino’s bizarre adoption by Baron Haklan, to his years of silent, ghost-like captivity in that locked room, to his desperate escape, his years wandering the slums, and finally his admission into the Order of St. Margia. He likely had the entire timeline perfectly mapped out.

“……”

Desperately trying to ignore the horrifying sensation of the Duke’s cock grinding aggressively against his butt crack, Lino’s brain went into overdrive.

Why did the Duke bring up my past?

While deep in thought, he unconsciously gnawed on his lip. A sharp sting, followed instantly by the metallic taste of blood, flooded his tongue. It was a nervous habit he had completely cured during his years at St. Margia, but it had aggressively resurfaced recently. Usually, he caught himself after a brief nibble, but this time, he had bitten down hard enough to draw blood.

“Are you completely unaware that bleeding in front of a beast is the exact equivalent of baring your neck and begging to be devoured?”

“…Excuse me?”

Blood? He must mean the cut on my lip, but… a beast? He’s speaking as if he’s a literal beast himself.

While Lino was momentarily distracted by the bizarre comment, temporarily forgetting the lethal weapon pressing against his back, Grondil’s hand slithered like a viper between Lino’s thighs. Without a second of warning, he aggressively seized the testicles hanging innocently beneath Lino’s half-erect cock.

“Ugh, ah…!”

Having the absolute most critical, agonizing weak point violently captured, Lino desperately grabbed Grondil’s wrist and forearm—which were wedged tightly between his thighs—and trembled uncontrollably. He desperately wanted to pry the hand away, even if it meant breaking fingers, but the terrifying realization that Grondil might simply crush his grip, or worse, violently rip his testicles entirely off as punishment for daring to resist, paralyzed him completely.

“W-Wait a minute. Your Highness, I truly believe this is highly inappropriate. Please?”

“Right here, it doesn’t feel like these are completely empty yet… I suppose I’ll have to drain them a bit more, won’t I?”

“You have drained them more than enough! They are empty. I swear to God, nothing else is going to come out.”

“You were dead asleep the entire time I was draining you, so how on earth could you possibly know that? Hmm… perhaps you were only pretending to be asleep so you could shamelessly enjoy it?”

Lino had to violently suppress the urge to scream, Stop spouting absolute fucking bullshit! Because he had been completely overwhelmed by the chaotic, terrifying situation the second he woke up, he had simply assumed his body felt terrible because he was sick. But realizing the Duke had “helped” him masturbate “until his arm felt like it was going to snap and his palm was raw” meant the cock that had endured that relentless, brutal friction was absolutely not in pristine condition.

The moment that realization hit him, a profoundly humiliating, agonizing pain began pulsing from between his legs.

“Considering the horrifying state this is in… how could anyone possibly fake being asleep through that…?”

Lino muttered pathetically, his voice barely a whisper. Glancing down between his legs, he saw his own cock, so violently swollen it looked as though it were on the verge of exploding. While being submerged in water naturally magnified things slightly, even accounting for the distortion, his member was severely, terrifyingly inflamed. The skin was flushed a furious, angry red, looking as though it had suffered second-degree burns.

“They still feel quite plump to me, though? I believe you can easily produce three or four more loads.”

Grondil gently, deliberately rolled the two spheres trapped in his hand. Ah, those aren’t fucking walnuts, you psycho. Lino desperately tried to push Grondil’s hand away, begging him to stop. However, before Lino could even apply pressure to pull, Grondil’s hand moved first.

“Ah!”

With a short, strangled shriek, Lino’s hips violently bucked upward, perfectly following the agonizing pull of Grondil’s hand. If he had moved even a fraction of a second later, his cock and testicles would have been permanently, violently divorced.

Fuck, God absolutely does not exist. If He does, He undoubtedly created me when He was in the absolute worst, most foul mood imaginable. I must be a stress-relief project He explicitly designed to experience every conceivable nightmare from birth until death. If that isn’t the case, there is no logical reason I should be experiencing the sheer terror of having my testicles ripped off bare-handed.

“Do you still hate it?”

“……”

His head bowed in utter defeat, Lino’s shoulders trembled violently. There’s a limit to playing good cop, bad cop. You literally just yanked on my balls hard enough to rip them off, and now you’re gently, softly rolling them around as if trying to soothe the burning agony? It’s utterly despicable.

If I shove this hand away now, he’s definitely going to rip them off this time, isn’t he…?

And then I’ll either bleed to death or die of shock. Either way, I’m dead.

Lino was entirely devoid of the mental luxury required to weigh the crisis of his chastity against the crisis of his life. Hadn’t he seen it with his own two eyes? The Duke casually, effortlessly warping and snapping thick iron bars with his bare hands.

Compared to those iron bars, his testicles—which were exponentially more fragile than pudding—had absolutely zero chance of maintaining their structural integrity within Grondil’s grip.

Ultimately, Lino transformed into a docile, pathetic lamb, rapidly spewing words that he never would have uttered if he were in his right mind.

“Your Highness, um… what I mean is, you may t-touch them however you please. I-I think I might actually be able to s-shoot one… maybe two more times…”

“Hmm.”

Grondil observed the nape of Lino’s deeply bowed neck with profoundly intrigued eyes. In person, he was vastly superior to that blurry photograph, and observing him intimately up close was infinitely more visually satisfying than watching him from a distance.

Yet, now that he was actively touching and manipulating him, Grondil wondered if anything could possibly be more entertaining and sickeningly sweet than this. To satiate a full-blown rut, even a female of his own species often proved wildly insufficient. Consequently, he naturally tended to spend his ruts with males of his own kind.

A rigorously physically conditioned male beastkin could easily endure a few days of remarkably brutal, rough handling. The only unfortunate drawback was that bodies hardened by decades of relentless training were far too rigid, significantly diminishing the tactile pleasure of holding them.

Grondil’s aesthetic tastes were as incredibly demanding and fastidious as his personality; Enoch frequently lamented that he felt his hair turning white by the handful every time he had to select candidates for the Duke’s rut.

He required a remarkably beautiful male capable of entirely withstanding the brutal demands of his rut. Their height and build could not be excessively massive, yet they could absolutely not be fragile or petite; their skin had to be flawlessly smooth, and he violently abhorred excessively hard, rigid musculature.

They must lack any excess, flabby fat, yet their chest and glutes must be generously, softly fleshed. He strongly preferred a waist slender enough to be satisfyingly choked by his two hands. He was indifferent to hair color, but regarding their eyes, regardless of the actual hue, the color had to be brilliantly, vividly distinct.

And the absolute most critical, non-negotiable requirement was…

“Very well, I shall show mercy and settle for just one more time. However, Sir Cliff.”

“Yes…”

“I have one burning question.”

“Wh-What are you curious about?”

At the mention of a question, Lino’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. Don’t tell me it’s a question about Baron Haklan? Or maybe he’s going to ask if he can fuck me twice after making me come once—

No. With that massive size, is twice going to be enough? It’s going to be at least five times… fuck. You’re insane, Lino Cliff. You should be desperately plotting how to save your own life, but instead, you’re worrying about accommodating this man’s stamina?

“This right here. I would love to hear the explanation for this.”

“Ah…”

Grondil’s hand, having finally released his testicles, drifted upward, slowly and gently rubbing Lino’s pubic bone. Utterly incapable of looking at his own completely bare pubic region, Lino squeezed his eyes tightly shut. In an instant, the tips of his ears burned a furious red, and the scalding heat rapidly flooded down his neck.

“Well, uh… you see. It’s absolutely not because I have some sort of bizarre, perverted fetish or anything…”

Crazy bastard. How the hell did I forget about this?!

Lino was profoundly shocked to realize that, entirely overwhelmed by Grondil’s terrifying presence, he had completely forgotten about his ultimate physical secret—the absolute, non-negotiable reason he had never once exposed his naked body to another living soul during his entire tenure at the Order of St. Margia.

This was a secret absolutely no one knew—not the orphanage, and certainly no one at the Haklan estate, considering he had been adopted well before puberty even began.

Curling his fingers, Grondil firmly pressed down on the plump, fleshy mound of Lino’s pubic bone. Watching the completely hairless, smooth flesh yield deeply under his fingers and spring back up with a delayed, satisfying resilience, Grondil’s eyes gleamed with a dark, ravenous hunger.

“No matter how closely I examine it, there are absolutely zero traces of shaving. No matter how skillfully one uses chemical depilatories, the pores where the hair grew inevitably leave faint marks… Yet here, Sir Cliff, there is absolutely nothing catching against my skin, zero evidence that hair ever grew here in the first place, which made me incredibly curious.”

“I hardly think it’s something worth being curious about… It’s obviously just—”

“I absolutely despise liars above all else.”

“……”

Lino, who had been fully prepared to confidently declare, It’s obviously just a thorough wax job, clamped his mouth shut like a clam at Grondil’s chilling addendum. Despises them above all else. Before his brain could even process the threat, his primal survival instincts had already glued his lips together.

Despite the bathroom air being incredibly thick and humid, the inside of Lino’s mouth was bone dry. He nervously licked the condensation off his lips and swallowed hard. Then, with the gravity of a man delivering a final, desperate confession, he spoke the absolute truth.

“It hasn’t… grown yet…”