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Chapter 29 - 29 - The Difference Between Asperia and Maria
"Finally, you're awake!!"
Two voices shouted at once—sharp, overlapping like knives thrown from opposite corners of the room.
Asperia and Mirea.
The volume pierced his skull like a hammer. His eyes widened—
And immediately, without thinking, Vex turned his face and dove into the softest thing he could find:
Maira's belly.
"Please save me," he mumbled, muffled, panicked—like a scared child hiding from thunder under the only blanket they trust.
He needed to. Not just to escape those two women trying to beat him—why would he even fear some weak women who just caught him off guard?
Nah, he just liked the comforting touch of Maira. Damn, he wasn't even going to move away from here for some time.
His arms swiftly clutched at her side. His face buried itself against the warm give of her abdomen, the scent of skin and faint sweat meeting his nose—natural, raw, real. The soft curve of her stomach molded under the shape of his face, her cotton dress stretching just enough to let the body beneath it be felt.
He could feel the tremble of her breath.
Maira's entire body jolted. Her back straightened, her hand rose instinctively mid-air in stunned delay.
Her fingers hovered there, frozen, unsure.
Then... slowly... her hand lowered.
Settling on the back of his head.
She blinked once. Her eyes trembled with an expression melting away, and a flush of disheartenment—and something protective—resurfaced.
And she pulled him in.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, enveloping him fully against her. Her voice broke the air—not gentle, not soft—but full of something she rarely showed.
Possession.
"No one can harm you while I'm here," she shouted, glaring at the two women across from her.
"Not even them."
"Sigh, tell your sister something, Mirea." Asperia seemed clearly exhausted, rubbing her temple, seeing how childish this woman was to fall for simple book tricks and trust someone like Vex—who was a pervert to his core.
"Hm... he's a stranger," Mirea said sharply. "You don't even know his full name, Maira."
"He's asleep. Let it go," came Maira's low reply.
And true to Maira's words, Vex had already slipped past their voices.
The sound was just a distant hum now—soft and fading. His world had narrowed to warmth, pressure, and scent.
His cheek rested on her belly, where the fabric of her dress stretched gently over the slight curve.
The cushion of her body welcomed him without resistance—soft, warm, and real in a way that stilled something deep inside him.
Each breath she took made that curve rise against his skin, slow and steady, like a lullaby breathed into flesh.
Her dress was simple—coarse linen, faded with wear, clinging to her form where sweat had dampened it.
And it was warm—holding the heat of her body, of her heartbeat just beneath. The scent of her reached him easily now, not overpowering, but layered.
There was lavender—faint, lingering from a morning wash. But beneath that, stronger now in the stillness, was the salt of sweat.
He could smell it clearly where her chest hung just above him—the underboob sweat that soaked into the fabric there, trapped between skin and cloth.
It had mixed with perfume and warmth, forming something raw, earthy... feminine.
It wasn't unpleasant. It was real.
His head rested just beneath the swell of her breasts.
When she shifted, they brushed his temple gently—heavy, soft, the weight of them pressing faintly against him with every breath she exhaled.
His ears caught the faint thump of her heartbeat beneath the skin.
Her fingers drifted through his hair, slow and absentminded, but each stroke sent a ripple of warmth through him.
Her touch was casual, as if she didn't know what it was doing to him—how it was sending him into deep sleep.
The voices in the room vanished entirely.
His breathing eased.
And there, even as a man, he realized one truth he'd seen in every pornwha... but ignored:
No matter how much one idolizes sex, lust, and such things, in the end—for a man—just a simple head on a lap and a gentle ruffle on the hair was more than enough to melt him.
Her palm cupped the back of his head gently, pressing him just a little deeper into her softness. The linen of her dress creaked softly as it stretched. Her belly rose. Fell.
And then—
Sleep.
Not from exhaustion.
But from peace...
---
'System, purchase my tail.'
—[Processing... Complete. Item purchased.]—
With a dull pop, it landed in his palm—frozen, coiled, and white-haired all over. His own tail.
He didn't hesitate.
Bit down. Tore flesh. Muscle strung between his teeth like sinewy beef—bitter and rank.
'Shit... tastes like roasted boot.'
He kept chewing. No taste enhancements—those cost gold coins, and he'd rather suffer. The pain building in his spine told him the regen had begun.
While his jaw and cranium healed, his eyes wandered as he kept chewing the tail.
To her.
Asperia.
Sitting there on the edge of the couch, arms folded under her chest, wearing Maira's spare dress—and it didn't fit her right.
Too loose up top.
Not because she was lacking—hell no. Her breasts were full, high, and perky, the kind that pushed against fabric like they had something to prove. Tight against the ribs, proud in shape.
But Maira?
Maira had the motherly kind—heavier, softer, the type that hung with gravity and warmth. Like they could bury a man if he stayed there long enough. Hers filled the dress with a kind of slow weight.
Asperia, though?
The dress gaped just slightly at the neckline. Not enough to call it a wardrobe malfunction, but enough to show a teasing, natural swell—like the curve of confidence rather than comfort.
He stared longer than he should've.
Below, the dress rode up on her thighs—again, a mismatch. Maira's shorter frame left the hem riding higher on Asperia, revealing toned, bare legs that crossed without concern. One ankle twitched, like tapping out a rhythm of impatience or challenge.
Everything about her looked sharper.
Firmer.
From the pointed way she sat, back straight and chin up, to the casual heat she exuded by just... existing in someone else's dress.
And then—
She looked up.
Caught him staring.
Her eyes blank, knowing what he was looking at, uncaring as she directly inquired.
"What is this game you're playing?" she asked. "Why are you... acting like this?"
