Theorad Wants to Live (3)

I'd never cared for the expression time stood still.

It had never happened to me, and I doubted it ever could. Poets who claimed they wished time would stop forever were surely being ridiculous.

“……”

I understood them now.

As the elf and I stared at one another, I wanted nothing more than for time to stop. Every second that passed seemed to bring me closer to death.

What do I do?

My thoughts were paralyzed.

I tried to keep my face impassive, but inside I was as terrified as a criminal awaiting a death sentence. To escape that sentence, I would have to persuade the judge of my innocence.

Unfortunately, the judge was the elf, and my guilt was plain to see.

Wait. Guilt?

There was no denying that I'd made a mistake. But did she know it had been a mistake?

Maybe the hard look in her eyes meant something else. Perhaps she was simply displeased with the kind of punishment I'd chosen.

If so, I shouldn't be the one to tell her the truth.

I had to turn my blunder into a deliberate act.

“How irritating.”

I began with a show of annoyance.

If I spoke with enough confidence, perhaps she'd lose hers. Sure enough, her expression shifted, the sharpness in her eyes giving way to uncertainty.

Halfway there.

“I told you to hold your breath. Why are you still breathing while I'm writing? Can't you follow even that simple order?”

That established my defense.

I needed to make her believe the quill hadn't pierced her skin because I'd sneezed, but because I'd deliberately jabbed her for disobeying my order not to breathe.

That was the story I needed her to believe.

I tugged nervously at the brooch near my throat and frowned.

“Answer me, you worthless creature.”

My argument was complete. All that remained was the verdict.

I held my breath and waited.

Her pointed ears drooped a little under my stare.

“I-I'm sorry… But it hurts to hold my breath…”

Not guilty!

Relief surged through me so fiercely I nearly shouted for joy. Instead, I gave a derisive snort.

“A lowly tool like you thinks its discomfort matters to me? How amusing. Didn't the steward teach you that there are nobles and commoners in human society? Or are you too stupid to understand that your master's orders are absolute?”

“I-I'm sorry I'm such an inferior slave, Master…”

“What a pathetic answer. Knowing your place is commendable, but knowing it and still making the same mistakes is unforgivable. Do as I say from now on, unless you want to be discarded.”

I gave her my coldest look.

Her eyes trembled. She bit her lip as though fighting back tears.

The sight made my conscience ache. I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her it had all been a joke.

Of course, if I actually did that, I might end up with every bone in my body broken.

The tears were part of her performance. She was enjoying this.

“Now I'll finish writing. Hold your breath. If you dare to inhale or exhale because you find it uncomfortable, I'll punish you even more harshly.”

She nodded and drew in a long breath, holding it until her abdomen went taut.

Now it's a race against time.

I had to finish the sentence before she started breathing again.

I hadn't planned any punishment more severe than this one. If she disobeyed and demanded that I make good on the threat, I'd be in serious trouble.

“Here we go.”

I picked up the quill and wrote as quickly as I could across her stomach. I shortened the sentence I'd originally planned, set the final period with great care, and lifted the pen.

The message read:

Keep your eyes open and engrave this in your mind. As long as I live, there will be no romance in your life. You are to live for desire alone, like a prostitute in a brothel, as my faithful sex toy. Do not deny your fate. Not even the God of Light will be able to illuminate the darkness of your life.

It was hurried and uneven, but it sounded sufficiently cruel. I put the quill down and let out a silent sigh of relief.

“You may breathe now.”

The elf drew in air with a desperate gasp, her tongue hanging out like a dog's.

It wasn't a dignified sight. I cleared my throat disapprovingly and lifted the spoon of sealing wax.

It had been sitting above the candle for some time. The wax was completely melted, with wisps of hot vapor rising from it.

“I've finished writing my letter. Now I'll seal it with the mark of my family.”

Her eyes widened.

“N-No, Master… That's too hot. My skin will burn…”

“What are you talking about? Your body belongs to me, doesn't it?”

“Master…”

She seized my wrist and looked up imploringly.

I didn't stop. By now, I knew that the more earnestly she pleaded, the more likely she was to want me to continue.

“Let go.”

I shook her hand off and tilted the spoon.

Pouring wax directly onto the writing would make it impossible to read, so I aimed lower, toward her lower abdomen.

This second helping of sealing wax was thicker than the first. It flowed hot across her lower abdomen. Faint smoke rose as it spread.

“A-ah!”

She cried out and dug her fingernails into the desk.

Watching her apparently suffer made me uneasy. Still, the wax continued down the curve of her abdomen toward her groin.

Before it could cool and harden, I took the family seal and slammed it down into the molten wax.

“Ah…!”

Her trembling gradually subsided. The wax was cooling, and whatever pain it had caused seemed to be fading.

I couldn't begin to understand why she liked any of this.

I lifted the seal.

The impression had come out better than I'd expected: a cardinal bird, its head raised proudly inside a neat circle. The bird was the emblem of House Deharem.

I'd never used the seal on a person's skin before, but the result was remarkably clear.

At last. It's over.

“That will do.”

I tapped her backside to signal the end of the punishment.

“You've been punished enough for today. Crawl back to that miserable room of yours and read the letter I so graciously wrote for you.”

“Y-Yes, Master…”

She seemed satisfied. She slid off the desk and made her way to the door without another word.

I took a handkerchief from my coat and wiped my hand with a look of profound disgust, as though touching her had soiled me. I had to keep acting until the very end, in case she glanced back.

Only when she had vanished through the door, and the sound of her footsteps had faded, did I collapse into my chair.

“I'm going to die…”

How much longer could I keep pretending to be a psychopath?

I was exhausted by the constant humiliation and the need to invent increasingly bizarre punishments. One wrong move, and that deranged elf would cut my throat. If anyone discovered what I was doing with her, my reputation would be destroyed, and House Deharem's standing would be dragged down with it.

There seemed to be no end to the things I had to worry about.

I sighed again.

This isn't what I imagined when I bought an elf slave.

The future I'd pictured had been so much gentler.

I'd invite her to eat across from me at the table, and she'd look at me with tears of gratitude, hardly believing I would allow it.

I'd give her beautiful clothes and a comfortable room, and she'd thank me for treating her kindly.

Perhaps one day she'd approach me shyly, place a wreath of flowers she'd made herself on my head, and smile.

I had wanted a somewhat foolish but adorable companion, someone who would treasure the smallest acts of kindness and whose smile would be a pleasure simply to see.

So what the hell is this woman?

On the day she arrived, she'd broken an expensive jar and demanded punishment. Now she spent every waking moment trying to drive me insane with her appetite for humiliation.

Why did I buy her? Why me?

I could regret it all I wanted, but I still had a problem to solve.

This isn't the time to wallow.

I straightened and tapped the ring on my left index finger.

The surveillance artifact activated, revealing her room.

The elf had returned at a leisurely pace. After closing the door, she touched her chin thoughtfully.

“Hmm. That's a difficult one.”

What's difficult?

As I watched, she shrugged and went to the mirror.

Her chest and lower abdomen were still marked with sealing wax. She leaned closer and read the words I'd written on her stomach.

“Pfft.”

She covered her mouth and smiled.

It wasn't the trembling, submissive smile she showed me. It was genuine.

In the moonlight streaming through her window, she looked so beautiful that I found myself admiring her without meaning to.

“Well… it wasn't bad.”

What?

She snapped her fingers. A sudden gust of wind swept around her, stripping away the wax and cleaning her skin. The burns healed as though they'd never been there.

I turned off the surveillance artifact and leaned back.

It wasn't bad.

What was I supposed to make of that?

She'd given me an unfriendly look when I accidentally drew blood, yet the rest of the punishment had apparently been acceptable.

Or perhaps…

“……”

Why am I even worrying about her review of my performance?

There was no point trying to understand a demon like that.

I needed to think clearly. I was her master, at least in name. I had the right to remove her from the mansion. It wasn't for her to decide when she left.

With that thought, I opened my desk drawer and unfolded a map of the territory.

There should be a weapons shop somewhere near the mansion…

If I couldn't overpower her, I'd have to find another way.

I had an idea. An explosive solution—one even an elf with the power of an archmage might have to take notice of.

I searched the map until I found what I was looking for.

There it is.

A satisfied smile spread across my face.