Eternal Undying Chronicles

Alicarde had waited for this moment for a long time—by a "long time," he meant the fifteen minutes since Cassandra mentioned they would only get one room.

He was going to make the most of this, though perhaps this would have been a good time to act like a gentleman. But, as far as he was concerned, acting like a gentleman was the way of lesser men.

Malefica had no idea what he was thinking, and frankly, she didn't care. Standing up, she checked the closet, and sure enough, there were women's clothes hanging inside. Grabbing a set along with a towel, she made her way toward the door leading to the bath.

Before entering, she turned to face him.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"I know I don't have to tell you this, but if you do anything untoward, you will burn."

Alicarde shook his head dramatically, crossing his chest.

"I would never… I mean, I am such a gentleman. You can trust me."

Malefica narrowed her eyes at him.

"All that, and I still don't believe you. Don't even think of finding an excuse to walk in… I mean it."

He sighed.

"So little trust in my character, but fine, as you wish."

With one final glare, she disappeared behind the door. He needed something to distract himself, so he wandered toward the bed. With nothing better to do, he dismissed his Reaper's Vestments entirely, revealing the tattered clothes he had been wearing earlier.

The state of his clothes was beyond saving—barely holding together after being hit by an inferno spell at point-blank range.

'Gotta respect these luxury brands. They aren't expensive for nothing,' he mused, though he really didn't want to think about how much his wardrobe must have cost.

Carrisa and Amena never held back when it came to spoiling him, filling his closet with things he didn't even know what to do with. Speaking of closets, this single room had one too.

He walked over, hoping to find something to wear. He could always use his Reaper's Vestments outside to conceal his identity, but he wasn't keen on sleeping in them. Not that the Vestments weren't comfortable—they felt like a second skin.

Still thinking about this, he opened the closet door, bracing for disappointment.

'I need to remember my roots—having a walk-in closet is not normal. This is what normal looks like.'

He reminded himself not to be corrupted by the luxurious lifestyle Carrisa had provided. Eventually, he would return home for the holidays, and there he would face the humble, normal room with its small, standard closet. And that was fine.

After rummaging through the closet and finding only female clothes, he muttered under his breath.

"Of course, what did I expect from a village of witches? Chauvinism."

Most witches were women, and male witches were as rare as a blue moon. Not that Alicarde knew that.

His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Normally, by now, he would have dined with the girls and then gone out for his Reaper shenanigans. There was a kitchen nearby, but he had grown too used to Amena's cooking to make the effort himself. He smiled at the thought.

"I bet if I never met Carrisa, I'd be a normal college guy living alone, cooking for myself sometimes, ordering takeout, surviving on instant ramen. Now that sounds like hell. Normies sure have it tough… Imagine not having a beautiful maid."

As he muttered to himself, lost in his daydreams, Malefica emerged from the bath. Alicarde's eyes widened at the breathtaking sight before him.

She had entered with a dress and a towel, but now she came out wearing only the towel, seemingly lost in thought. Her long black hair clung to her wet skin, and her voluptuous chest was barely contained within the cursed fabric of the towel. His gaze traveled down to her alluring thighs, stopping only at the edge of the towel.

'Damn that wretched towel,' he thought bitterly.

Malefica, still in her own world, didn't notice his staring at first. But when she finally caught on, she looked down at herself, then back at him. Alicarde braced himself for pain or insults, but Malefica, being a mature woman, simply sighed.

"Quit gawking at me and go take a bath. I need to change."

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Alicarde blinked, taking a moment to register her words.

"Erm, wha…what? Err… okay."

Seeing his sluggishness, Malefica glared.

"Now!"

"Yes, ma'am! Okay, sure!" He quickly scrambled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

His heart was racing, and his thoughts were running wild. To calm himself, he resorted to counting random numbers and imagining Goku performing the Kamehameha attack.

With that, the two hundred and seventh bone he didn't know he had finally relaxed, and he returned to normal. Taking a breath, he surveyed the bathroom. It was well-tiled and clean, with another door leading outside. A shower and faucets lined one wall, but his curiosity led him to open the door to find an open-air hot spring.

"Well, I'll be damned. These witches really live in style."

He took a quick wash before deciding to soak in the hot spring, hoping it would give Malefica enough time to change and dispel the awkward atmosphere.

"If I had a penny for every time I ran into a lady in a towel, I'd have a lot of pennies because I've seen Carrisa in that state way too many times. But if I count the number of different ladies… I'd have two pennies. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."

Satisfied with his musings, he stepped out of the bath. His old clothes were beyond saving, so he incinerated them with a basic flame spell, wary of leaving anything personal behind in a village of witches—just in case they decided to curse him.

He donned his Reaper's Vestments again, dismissing the metallic parts and keeping it light and comfortable.

Then, as he exited the bathroom, he was greeted by the scent of something in the air.