Chapter 13

***

Although he had technically been drafted as the Duke’s escort knight, what Yuneria was actually doing could hardly be called “escorting.” Clinging to the Duke’s side like a remora from early morning to tour the capital, and then violently heating up the air inside the Duke’s bedroom at night—that was Yuneria’s established daily routine.

Hearing the phrase violently heating up the bedroom air, ten out of ten people would naturally assume it meant he was spending passionate, steamy nights tangled in the sheets with the master of the bedroom. However, in Yuneria’s highly specific case, he was quite literally just heating up the air in the room through sheer physical exertion.

“Ah, hnnn, Your Highness. Your Hiiiighness…”

Yuneria slumped pathetically in a single-seat sofa tucked away in the corner of the Duke’s massive bedroom, his body completely limp. Stripped entirely naked, his frame was far too delicate and slender for a knight; he looked utterly incapable of generating the muscular strength required to swing a heavy broadsword. While his body appeared light and agile, he didn’t look particularly skilled in close-quarters martial arts either. It was a body meticulously sculpted and maintained exclusively for aesthetic vanity.

“Keep going.”

“…Yes, ngh.”

Answering with a voice that practically crawled back down his throat, Yuneria spread his legs wide, hooking them over the armrests of the sofa, blatantly exposing his most private areas to the air. The sofa’s red fabric seat was heavily stained and making obscene, wet squelching sounds from the bodily fluids pouring from Yuneria’s entrance. And splattered across his stomach and thighs was a fresh layer of thin, watery semen.

He had lost count of how many times he had climaxed. The muscles in his arms were screaming, feeling as though they might physically rupture at any second, yet the word stop never once left the Duke’s lips. Thus, with a trembling whimper, Yuneria moved his opposite, less-exhausted arm to wrap his fingers around his own cock. Curling his hand around his slick, overly sensitive member, he began slowly pumping his hand up and down.

However, after only a few pitiful strokes, his arm froze entirely, utterly spent.

“Why? Are you out?”

The absolute second Yuneria’s masturbation ceased, the Duke—sitting directly opposite him—fired the question as if he had been waiting for exactly that moment. Leaning comfortably against the plush headboard of the bed, the Duke had clearly showered recently; his damp, silver-gray hair clung to his nape and broad shoulders.

Wearing only a bath towel carelessly wrapped around his waist, Grondil tilted his head, watching Yuneria like an exhibit. It wasn’t a gaze born of lust or genuine interest. It was a cold, obligatory stare, cast entirely because he had to, despite finding the entire ordeal deeply annoying and repulsive.

Tsk. 

A short, sharp click of the tongue echoed from his closed mouth. The curly pubic hair covering Yuneria’s groin was intensely irritating to look at. Would it be slightly less offensive if he shaved it all off? Hmm… Taking a brief moment to visualize Yuneria completely smooth and hairless down there, Grondil’s brow furrowed even deeper. Hair or no hair, it was equally unappetizing.

Meeting Grondil’s increasingly frigid, hostile stare, Yuneria jolted as if he had been physically burned and frantically resumed pumping his arm.

“N-No. I can still, hngh… still produce more.”

“Sir Disson. Must I travel all the way to this backwater country only to waste my time?”

“No! I can do it! Two more… no, I can do it three more times. Ugh, hnnng…!”

Furiously shaking his head in denial before violently nodding to affirm his capability, Yuneria realized too late that he had frozen his hand again while shaking his head, which had caused Grondil’s brow to twitch with annoyance.

The climax he had just forced out was his third of the night. Having recklessly declared he could do it three more times, he was now locked into achieving six ejaculations today. This bizarre, torturous masturbation show had begun roughly ten days ago and had continued every single night without a single day of rest.

Yuneria remained absolutely, delusionally convinced that the Duke deeply cherished him, not that filthy orphan bastard. To any outside observer, the Duke appeared entirely captivated by Yuneria. Yuneria himself had been so certain he would soon be embraced in the Duke’s bed that he had secretly practiced stretching and prepping his own back hole in anticipation.

Duke Castillion Luz Grondil of the Cartia Empire was so breathtakingly beautiful that he effortlessly eclipsed the legendary beauty of Yuneria’s own mother. Merely looking at him made Yuneria’s heart tremble. And it wasn’t just his face; his massive, towering physique—which made one question if he belonged to a superior, non-human species—also made Yuneria tremble. Though, that was less his heart trembling and more his hole anticipating. With a body that massive, just how colossal would the equipment between his legs be?

He hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes yet, but the silhouette bulging against the fabric of the Duke’s trousers was undeniably too thick to wrap a single hand around, and just imagining the sheer length made Yuneria feel as though he would be skewered straight through to his navel.

I’m definitely going to die on that bed when that massive cock finally takes me. Yuneria frequently indulged in these delightfully wicked, ecstatic fantasies.

Currently, however, Yuneria’s reality was playing out somewhat… no, vastly differently from his fantasies. He was definitely feeling like he was going to die, but not from having his back hole ruthlessly pounded by the Duke’s massive cock. He was dying because he was being forced to furiously masturbate until both his arms felt ready to snap off at the shoulder.

Even if I squeeze with everything I have, I don’t think another drop is going to come out.

Of course, no matter how agonizing it was, forcefully gripping and stroking his cock naturally caused it to harden. But as the days dragged on, forcing a climax became exponentially more difficult. For the past few days, he wasn’t so much masturbating as he was literally trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

“Hnng, ah, hah… mmn…!”

With a pathetic whimper, Yuneria miraculously managed to force out his fourth ejaculation.

“Two more times.”

“……”

The Duke’s cold, unrelenting pressure slammed into him instantly, demanding he immediately fulfill the remaining quota. Intimidated by those freezing eyes, Yuneria bit his lip hard. Having lived his entire life bathed in nothing but adoration and praise for his beauty since birth, he had now been reduced to a pathetic state where simply gripping and stroking his cock was no longer enough to push him over the edge. The relentless, daily friction had caused the sensitive skin of his glans to bead with blood. The shaft was even worse; swollen and raw, it looked like a grotesque, over-boiled, tasteless sausage.

This is dangerous.

To force two more climaxes, he needed significantly more intense stimulation. Feeling Grondil’s gaze boring intensely into the space between his legs, Yuneria’s entire body shuddered violently.

Initially, he had genuinely believed that intense stare was fueled by burning lust. But now, he knew better. The Duke was currently waiting to see if the specific “thing” he desired would finally manifest. Naturally, if he were merely waiting patiently, Yuneria wouldn’t be trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Those eyes, sinking as dark and heavy as storm clouds, were clinically assessing whether Yuneria possessed the specific item he was hunting for. If it were merely assessment, it would be tolerable.

Unable to withstand the suffocating pressure of Grondil’s gaze raking over his body, Yuneria averted his eyes.

The absolute second Yuneria stepped foot into the Duke’s bedroom every night, Grondil immediately dropped his charming facade, wiping his expression as easily as removing a mask. The sweet, indulgent smiles he so generously handed out during the day vanished without a microscopic trace.

“Is his divine power lacking…?”

Grondil muttered to himself, slowly stroking his jaw. For an entire month, he had watched Yuneria masturbate with absolute, clinical apathy. The ancient texts explicitly stated that a symbolic mark—absolute proof of receiving God’s forgiveness and blessing—would physically manifest somewhere on the body during moments of intense physical arousal or climax.

The clues were infuriatingly limited. That was exactly why he had initially tried to reject that reckless bastard’s request. But the bastard had sworn that if Grondil managed to track down the “Letia” hidden somewhere on the Terne Continent, he would absolutely never seek out or summon the Duke ever again.

If that impotent bastard can’t produce an heir, he should just grab any random noble and abdicate the throne. This is so incredibly annoying.

Grondil’s boredom was rapidly evolving into genuine, spiking irritation. Being forced to watch an unappealing, utterly unarousing man furiously masturbate for over a month was tantamount to psychological torture for Grondil.

Would that pathetic fool be a better candidate?

Grondil thought of the blonde man who was practically using the Duke’s study as his own personal bedroom. Hmm, calling him a “man” felt overly generous considering he probably didn’t even have peach fuzz growing down there yet. A newly hatched chick…? Yes, calling him a chick seemed far more accurate.

Sweeping an apathetic gaze over the whimpering Yuneria, Grondil recalled the image of Lino Cliff sleeping in the study earlier that day. He was such an impossibly dense chick; no matter how much Grondil poked, lifted, and rolled him around, the idiot absolutely refused to wake up.

Contrary to his underwhelming first impression, seeing the chick up close revealed a body that was surprisingly aligned with Grondil’s tastes. Unlike Yuneria’s purely aesthetic, practically useless muscles, Lino’s body was a highly pleasing combination of dense, functional muscles built through rigorous daily life, layered perfectly over combat-hardened muscle. Yet, it wasn’t just a block of rigid, unyielding hardness. From the brief, firm squeezes Grondil had administered while Lino slept, he had noted a very generous, satisfying layer of flesh on his chest and glutes. If it were purely flabby fat that dissolved into mush the moment he grabbed it, his appetite would have instantly vanished. But because it was a healthy, resilient layer of fat sitting perfectly atop solid muscle, it had an incredibly pleasing, chewy resilience that made it exceptionally fun to knead and grope.

Maybe I should have just woken him up. Watching that disgustingly peaceful, deeply asleep face violently contort in shock and sheer terror would have been hundreds of times more entertaining than watching Yuneria’s utterly unappetizing masturbation show.

Violently swatting away the belatedly rising surge of dark amusement, Grondil pushed himself off the headboard and sat up. Instantly, Yuneria—who had been desperately gripping his raw cock with a violently shaking hand—flailed in shock and tumbled ungracefully off the sofa. Scrambling onto his knees, he crawled frantically toward the Duke, intending to cling to his legs, but froze inches away. Too terrified to even touch the hem of the Duke’s trousers, Yuneria flattened himself against the floor, practically kissing the carpet, and shrieked.

“I can do it…!”

Grondil clicked his tongue with a sharp tsk, staring down at Yuneria, who was splayed out like a flattened frog.

“It’s just… today is t-too exhausting, so…”

“One week.”

“……”

The brutal deadline dropped like a guillotine over Yuneria’s head. Instantly understanding the terrifying implication, Yuneria began nodding his head with frantic, desperate speed. Because he was already plastered so low to the floor, his forehead audibly slammed into the carpet with every single nod.

“Return to your room and rest for the night.”

“Thank… thank you, Your Highness.”

Having delivered the eviction notice, Grondil didn’t even bother telling Yuneria to stand up before sweeping out of the bedroom. It was his own bedroom, yet his attitude made it glaringly obvious he absolutely refused to remain in a space contaminated by the air Yuneria had heated.

After a long, agonizing silence, Yuneria finally pushed himself off the floor. He hurriedly threw on the clothes he had discarded next to the sofa. Stepping out of the bedroom, the Duke was nowhere to be seen. The Duke’s blatant disgust—the implication that because of you, I no longer wish to stay in my own room—savagely shredded Yuneria’s fragile pride.

Fleeing from the Duke’s quarters as if escaping a nightmare, he nearly collided with Enoch in the corridor. Enoch appeared to be heading toward one of the other rooms on the third floor to attend to the relocated Duke. As Enoch offered a silent, polite bow, Yuneria’s heavily scowling face flushed violently red, and he sharply averted his gaze. Although it was a perfectly standard, polite greeting, to Yuneria, it felt like a vicious, mocking sneer directed entirely at his thoroughly disheveled, pathetic state, causing him to grind his teeth with a harsh grrrk.

“Please have a safe trip downstairs.”

“……”

Ultimately, Enoch offered a meaningless, polite farewell, but Yuneria completely ignored him, practically stomping down the stairs to the second floor.

“Tsk, tsk… You really should dial it back. Such terrible spite.”

Knowing exactly how his master handled that immature, desperate young man, Enoch clicked his tongue in disapproval. Those who didn’t truly understand the Duke would naturally assume he was deeply, profoundly infatuated with the Marquis’s second son. However, the truth was that the Duke absolutely never spared even a microscopic speck of attention to anything that didn’t perfectly align with his tastes.

Therefore, keeping Yuneria glued to his side from morning until night for an entire month meant the Duke harbored at least a faint, microscopic sliver of interest. Yet, the absolute foundation of that interest was entirely born from the Cartia Emperor’s unreasonable, forceful request. Enoch had absolutely zero intention of offering Yuneria any comfort or advice. He wasn’t in a position to do so, nor did he possess the duty or the desire.

Enoch’s sole objective was ensuring his master, Duke Grondil, successfully completed the Cartia Emperor’s request without causing a massive international incident. After that, returning safely to their homeland in the Principality was all Enoch desperately prayed for.

“Your Highness, it is Enoch. I have brought a change of clothes.”

Entering the Duke’s secondary bedroom, Enoch knocked softly on the bathroom door.

“Leave them out there.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Grondil’s voice echoed from inside the bathroom. It was noticeably lower and far rougher than usual. A clear, undeniable indicator that his mood had plummeted significantly.

Confirming Enoch’s presence had vanished from the room, Grondil sank deeply into the bathtub, which was overflowing with scalding hot water. As his massive frame submerged completely, a massive wave of water violently crested the edge of the tub, crashing onto the floor with a loud splash.

A month is more than enough time to determine he’s a dead end. I suppose it’s time to move to the next country. Or maybe I should just say ‘fuck this,’ flip the board, and return to the Principality. Hmm… maybe it would be better to just rip the Emperor’s head off and permanently erase the Cartia Empire from the map of the Terne Continent.

Among the three options, the third was by far the most appealing, but he ultimately shook his head, discarding the thought. Still, thanks to the Cartia Empire acting as a buffer, we’re successfully filtering out the endless stream of human rats constantly looking for an opportunity to sneak into the Principality.

Not that those pathetic insects could ever actually breach the borders even without the filter, but at least this arrangement prevented annoying rumors spreading about people dying directly because of the Principality.