[The Ram Chronicles] (Volume 4) (10) Author: gesid368570

Author: gesid368570
Word Count: 17477

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(Volume 4, Chapter 10) Chapter 58

(Neil, October 6, 1900, 8 PM, slum, Morton's Hotel)

Years of operation and a handful of guests are a profound reflection of this unique hotel in the slum
—but the staff never give up. At this moment, they are busy with the tedious work of receiving guests, from
boiling water and preparing meals to changing and cleaning supplies.

Although it is a hotel with extremely poor business, the decoration and accommodation conditions are not shabby. From the food and
clothing to the level of catering provided, and even the style of the "individual rooms," it
could be considered top-class even in the city—this is one of the reasons why it is so difficult to do business in the slum.

However, the owner here never seemed to have any worries. He was quite lenient in his business dealings and was adept
at going with the flow, spending most of his time napping.

This time was no exception.

"Brother?" A young cook tried to wake Morton, who was fast asleep at the hotel reception desk.

"Shh! What are you doing? Brother hasn't been back all day, he's exhausted." A much older cook—
the hotel's head chef—pulled the young man back. "Don't disturb him."

"I know!" the young man muttered softly. "That's why I wanted to find him
a bed —we can take care of him here."

"A clueless newbie." The head chef tapped the young man on the head with the handle of his large ladle. "All you do
is slack off, get to work!"

"Okay, okay." The helpless young man glanced at Morton, who was sleeping with his head tilted to the side, his arm as a pillow
, then turned, picked up a plate of tea and snacks, and walked up the stairs with a smile.

His mood wasn't dampened by the reprimand, because he knew the destination of this late-night snack was
the upper room on the second floor, where a stunningly beautiful woman lived.

"Thank you, please put the plate by the door."

"Yes, please enjoy."

The young man gave a wry smile, gently placing the plate near the door—the last step was a little disappointing.

Hearing the rustling sounds inside, the beauty was probably changing.

Thinking this, his disappointment intensified.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Mirania

, exhausted from the pile of administrative work following the city hall meeting and rushing back to the slums, sat wearily against the bed, changing into a black coat suitable for going out. Over it, she wore a thick, hooded cloak, enough to protect her from the southwest sea breeze. "They actually caused such a commotion in the city." Mirania couldn't help but be moved. "'They' have gone so far as to be so audacious." On the desk not far from her lay a report that her subordinates in the city had just presented. —The Chamber of Commerce's outpost in the outer district had caught fire, and it had been confirmed that Karak and Robles were alive. "The bait did work." Mirania rubbed her shoulder, and she couldn't help but think of the loyal black woman who had protected her master. "Has the situation become so urgent that they have to resort to murder? —But at least 'they' know how to disguise it." —The report also recorded the police's (official) opinion. In their view, the method of murder and arson was very much like that of a gangster. "The police will soon turn their attention to the slums—no, to 'Mr. Simon.'" Thinking of this, Mirania smiled. "He brought it on himself, 'Mr. Simon.'" Mirania tapped her heel on the floor a few times, calling over her subordinates who were waiting downstairs. "It seems we'll have to make a big scene this time, Lord Elson." A voice soon came from outside the door. "Come in—and bring in the plate from the doorway as well." Mirania instructed her subordinate waiting outside. "We don't have much time left to buy." Mirania, sitting at her desk, frowned as she put a small piece of honey cake into her mouth. "I disagree." The subordinate standing in the center of the room didn't seem to be the type to blindly agree with his superior. "More sacrifices are inevitable; letting 'they' cause a bit more trouble isn't necessarily a bad thing." "...You're right." Mirania reluctantly nodded in agreement, "but—" "I understand your position, but now is not the time to consider personal feelings and preferences." The cold tone made one wonder if this man was truly just one of Mirania's subordinates. "I haven't let personal feelings interfere." Mirania stared into the man's eyes, unwavering. "...You've stayed in Rama for too long." The man conceded a step, his defeated gaze scattering like broken raindrops . "Everything here, even this piece of honey cake in your hand, is built on the misfortunes of others." "..." Mirania remained noncommittal, silently putting the last piece of honey cake into her mouth. "Don't get too caught up in the drama," the man advised in a tone of admonition. "Understood, thank you." Mirania smiled and shook her head, focusing her gaze on the report beside her. "Now there's some new information—some information we can exploit." "Let's not create unnecessary trouble." "The 'Rat Queen' of the slums should pay the price for her arrogance and injustice." "We need these rats; finding people here isn't our forte." "That's precisely why we need insurance to ensure these greedy fellows don't ' create unnecessary trouble' —I even suspect they've already found the girl but are intentionally hiding it from us." "That's not surprising. Even if they hide her, it doesn't matter, as long as we get through that time safely and don't let 'they' get the 'inheritance.'" "But wouldn't it be better to have her firmly under our control? Now it's not just us and the rats eyeing ." "Still no movement from Charon?" " Hmm, it seems only the Charon people are observing from the sidelines. Let them be. If they truly had that kind of intelligence and foresight, they wouldn't have been so careless as to let the 'Prophet's' daughter sneak out of the country." "Intelligence suggests that people from the Fente embassy are active in the slums." "Yes, and quite blatantly at that, using the embassy's military attaché's name to openly gather intelligence. It's really..."

" Should we call them clueless, or are we underestimating them?"

"Reducing uncertainty is good, but don't be careless—too much of a good thing can be bad."

"Thanks for the advice—let's go. Let's search the north-central area tonight; hopefully, we'll find some clues."

Walking through the pitch-black slums, Mirania instinctively became more vigilant. For
her, who had been busy all day, this was undoubtedly adding to her mental burden, but she still forced herself to stay alert, meticulously sitting in
the center of the team, carefully observing the surrounding movements.

For city dwellers, like frightened birds, "strolling" cautiously through the slums at night was
a foolish thing to do. No matter how thorough the preparation and caution, it would never seem exaggerated or superfluous in this lawless place
.

In fact, along the way, they had already scared away quite a few audacious thugs lurking in the shadows, eager to make a quick buck
—news of "fat sheep" from the city staying at Morton's hotel always spread like wildfire.

Taking advantage of everyone's inattention, Mirania quietly yawned.

In truth, Mirania knew that this aimless search was only better than nothing in the current situation,
but since it concerned the well-being of the entire continent, she, "loyal and devoted" to her "professionalism," genuinely
felt that this almost physically exhausting workload was justified.

The pastries earlier were quite good; if little Ser had been here, he would definitely—but for a fleeting moment
, this thought sprouted in a corner of Mirania's mind.

Realizing she had drifted off, she took a deep breath, banishing the thought.

The chilling evening wind, even through her cloak, snaked into her body. Bathed in
the gusts of cold air drifting from the endless sea, Mirania felt her cheeks burning.

—That boy's smile, that innocent and adorable face, yet simultaneously brimming with hope and longing,
was so unforgettable.

(9 PM, October 6, 1900, Inner City, Crown Hotel)

Excluding landmarks like the clock tower and memorial tower, the Crown Hotel, located in the inner city of Lahm, is
one of the tallest buildings in the city. Except for the fifth floor, which is temporarily closed to the public, this opulent hotel undoubtedly
stands at the pinnacle of Lahm's accommodation and catering industry—although recently a new hotel, the "Scepter" Hotel, has also opened, but given that
both are owned by the same person, comparing them is meaningless.

Its suites on the fourth floor cost nearly 10,000 lahm per night, and with food and service fees, the daily
cost is likely in the tens of thousands. Those who stay in such suites are either wealthy merchants or foreign
dignitaries and celebrities.

At this very moment—

"Wow! This bed is so soft!" After a sumptuous dinner, Simon, having just showered, collapsed
heavily . "It's even better than the one at Morton Hotel!" "Really? Actually, I've only been here twice." Margarita's somewhat insecure voice

came from the direction of the bathroom . "The dinner was also delicious, even better than Lin Hua's—" Simon paused, gritted his teeth, "—" " 'Lin Hua'? That's the one from last time—and who is 'Morton'?" Margarita, wrapped in a bath towel, shyly peeked half her head out from behind the bathroom curtains—she ultimately couldn't muster the courage to invite Simon to take a bath with her. “An older man over there runs a hotel. It’s not bad, though much worse than this place.” Simon buried his head in the soft pillows. “And it’s not this high up, so there’s no need for this shaky lift.” “Oh, I’m working on that recently—the lift will be replaced with a manned model next year, much more stable .” Margarita excitedly peeked out of the bathroom. “Wow—what are you doing?” “Wait a minute!” Exposed to Simon’s view for only a moment, the half-naked Margarita retreated back behind the curtains. Afraid that her towel wasn’t wrapped “well enough,” she pulled the towel down around her chest and tightened it further, making her breasts stand out more. “What are you doing?” Simon looked into the bathroom. “Ah, almost done—ouch!” Margarita panicked and loosened the towel she had just wrapped, causing it to fall onto the damp floor tiles. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, nothing! Um, um, the towel's too big!" Margarita exclaimed. "Then don't wrap it up, I'll just rip it off anyway." Simon teased her with a mischievous tone. "Huh? Um, it's only 9 o'clock, isn't it a bit too early to do 'that' now?" Margarita peeked out again—her face was almost red to the roots of her neck. "Lie down next to me, I want to hug you." In front of this much older woman, who was far too inexperienced in matters of sex, Simon made no attempt to hide his eagerness. "Ah, just dry your hair, don't wrap it up, it 'll just get messed up anyway." "Then, I'll come out?" "Hmm? Come out, what's the problem?" "I really, really, really, really, really, really came out!" Margarita's voice trembled. "What's going on?" Simon couldn't help but wonder. "Don't laugh!" "Laugh?" Simon scratched his head. "Have you gained or lost weight or something?" "No, no—" As soon as she finished speaking, Margarita slowly shuffled out . Her skin, fresh from the bath, was flushed like a young girl's, radiating the lingering moisture and warmth. Below her slender waist were her shapely, long legs, tightly pressed together, shyly guarding the most shameful . Margarita's hands were divided: one covered her chest, the other her face. "Whoosh—" Simon whistled. "You can see everything down there?" "Huh?" Startled, Margarita looked down and quickly used her arm to cover her . After a while, she hurriedly moved the hand that had been covering her face to her chest and turned her head away. "Hahahaha—" Simon burst into laughter. "I've seen it before, come here quickly." Margarita, who seemed unmoved, was clearly trembling slightly in her lower body. "Hurry up , or I'll punish you!" Simon found the situation quite amusing.

After a long while, Margarita slowly, little by little, moved her hand away from her chest—then pulled it
back—and then moved it away again.

"Hmm~" Simon looked closely at Margarita's breasts.

Just like last time, the nipples were completely sunken inside her breasts.

"Could it be," Simon pondered for a moment, "that your usual bras don't fit?"

"No, I've tried all sorts of things."

"But it doesn't matter, it's not a big deal, I actually find it quite interesting."

"Ah? My last boyfriend backed out when he saw this..." Margarita
tiptoed to the edge of the bed.

"You blind idiot..." Simon suddenly grinned mischievously, "Want me to teach you a way?"

"You have a way?"

"Yes~ but I won't tell you easily, okay?"

"Tell me! Tell me!" Margarita abandoned her "defense" against Simon's gaze and quickly
lay down beside him.

"So, how's your performance?" Simon put his arm around Margarita's waist.

"Okay, okay, okay? Okay." Margarita
trembled , her words incoherent.

"It might hurt a little at first—you'll get used to it." Simon pushed Margarita away a little, burying his head
between her breasts.

"Eeeeeee!" Margarita cried out.

"Hahaha, just like a newbie." Simon took advantage of the situation, sniffing, sucking, and licking
the valley , feeling the fullness on his cheeks.

With a pounding heart, Margarita's breasts trembled slightly. Instinctively, she placed her hands on
the outer edge of her breasts, squeezing inwards, trying to stabilize her body—Syman, sensing this pressure, mistook it for
Margarita's "cooperation," and intensified his assault.

As a result, Margarita became increasingly flustered, squeezing her breasts
together .

"Whoa! Are you trying to suffocate me!"

Simon quickly lifted his head, panting heavily.

Looking at the shy (thirty-year-old) girl before him, Simon couldn't help but smile and brought his lips to hers.

Margarita, who had some experience in this area, immediately responded.

Following Simon's guidance, their two soft, wet tongues pushed and intertwined in each other's mouths, exchanging
breaths , saliva, and affection.

"Mmm."

"Ugh!"

Breaths escaped briefly from their lips, then vanished immediately.

While Margarita was immersed in the passionate kiss, Simon's hands began to move.

He didn't rush to Margarita's overly sensitive nipples, but instead touched her outer thighs
and lower back—even so, Margarita almost bit Simon's tongue when she felt his touch.

Margarita's waist wasn't like the women in Simon's gang, so taut and
without . Her waist felt soft and smooth, as if coated with a thin layer of butter, and with
a little more pressure, you could touch the firmer parts—far superior to most women.

Her thighs and buttocks were the same, full, soft, and plump, yet firm, making them irresistible to touch
—Simon lingered on Margarita's buttocks, kneading and squeezing them with obvious affection.

"Do you have some special training methods?" Simon
asked Margarita's ear during a break in their long kiss.

"No, I'm always writing reports and doing experiments, I don't have time," Margarita said, sounding deflated. "
I'm sorry, my figure isn't as good as the ones around you—"

"Nonsense!" Simon slapped Margarita's thigh hard, making a crisp, loud sound.

"Whoa!" Margarita exclaimed dramatically.

"Quite sensitive, isn't she?" Simon thought.

Before Margarita could react, Simon slapped hard at the junction of her buttocks and thighs—
his sudden mischievousness led him to deliberately increase the force.

Perhaps it was because he had never experienced such a stimulating sensation in his thirty years of life? Margarita
reacted violently, trembling and screaming.

Amidst her continuous panting, Margarita's body suddenly rose from Simon's sight, arching upwards, her entire
upper body flipping backwards, almost forming a right angle with her lower abdomen and lower body—now, a kiss was out of the question.

Her face flushed red, she covered her eyes with one hand, while the index finger of her other hand was in her mouth—enduring both pain
and pleasure, she looked like a naive little girl.

"Wow, your body is so flexible!" Simon laughed, praising, "The women at my place don't necessarily
have bodies like this."

"Well—it's just to avoid the mess of supports and equipment in the lab."

What a strange excuse, Simon thought.

"Not much fat on your waist and stomach either—come here, bring your chest closer—yes, just like that."

Simon stuck out his tongue and aimed it directly at her nipple.

Margarita, whose body was half-suspended, trembled. To steady herself, she instinctively hugged Simon
's head tightly with her arms.

"I really haven't been exercising~ Please spare me!"

"Not at all! Confess!" Simon tried to use his tongue to pull the nipple out of her breast.

Even a prostitute with a good figure would probably drool over such a body, right? It's such a waste of
such beautiful figure. Margarita's usual clothing always "perfectly"
conceals her feminine beauty completely—like the stained white
coat .

"Waaaaah~ It itches so much." Margarita's voice sounded very aggrieved.

"Hmm, this is troublesome." Simon, having failed several times, buried his face in Margarita's
breasts.

The full, soft white flesh spread out in all directions, and Simon's brute force squeezed Margarita's breasts into a flat
mound. He pressed his lips desperately into the center of her breasts, and Margarita's inverted nipple finally
peeked out from its tight surroundings—Simon took the opportunity to bite the already engorged and swollen tip of the nipple. Just like last time in the basement, Simon bit down hard, pulled back, and ripped the nipple out

with extremely brute force .

" Wa

... "Oh dear, this won't do." Simon lifted Margarita's chin, admiring her teary-eyed, intoxicated expression. "Wake up, the night is still long." "I must be dreaming..." "Alright, alright, then I'll wake you up." Simon smiled and pressed his lips to Margarita's other breast, repeating the process. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Margarita cried out, her voice so loud that Simon was uneasy about the privacy of the room. After two near-forced orgasms, her body finally went limp. Margarita involuntarily released her arms from behind Simon's head, sliding down his reclining body like a limp lump of mud, her face resting on Simon's crotch. When Margarita regained consciousness, she opened her eyes to find Simon offering her a cup, and his erect penis right in front of her . Looking at the throbbing male symbol at her lips, Margarita involuntarily swallowed. "Want some water?" Simon helped Margarita lift her head slightly and handed her the cup of hot water. "...How long?" Margarita asked groggily after taking a small sip. "About two minutes?" Simon chuckled. "S-S-Simon, I, we can—" Margarita stammered , "—that kind of 'play'?" "Hmm, which kind?" Simon gently stroked Margarita's cheek. "Don't force yourself." " That, that, it'll definitely be fine! I've been studying lately, I'm sure I can do it!" Margarita suddenly perked up; the mention of books instantly energized her. "Hey, what kind of books are you reading?" Margarita nervously straightened her body, kneeling between Simon's legs, and slowly brought her lips to his . Simon couldn't help but worry for her, and for his own lower body, but to encourage this woman who was so inexperienced, he cooperated by running his fingers through Margarita's disheveled silver-gray hair, holding her head, and offering his penis. "Like this—uh!" With Simon's help, Margarita propped herself up, opened her mouth, and covered Simon's penis. And then—a complete failure. "Ouch!" they both cried out in unison. Simon cried out because his sensitive area had been hit by his teeth, while Margarita cried out because she had twisted her jaw. "I told you, it was too much!" Simon complained irritably. "Ugh... I'm sorry." Looking at Margarita Simon's anger vanished instantly—this outcome was to be expected; it was his own fault for expecting it. He'd given him oral sex many times, but very few women could completely swallow him; even Lin Hua struggled with that. "Shall we take it slow?" Simon suggested. "Um, Chapter... Chapter Four!" Margarita's eyes still shone with an unusual excitement. "What... what is it?" Seeing Margarita's eagerness, Simon couldn't help but feel nervous. "Hehe, watch me~" Margarita straightened her upper body, crawled a few steps towards Simon, then cupped her breasts, completely enveloping Simon's erect penis. Then, Margarita's movements paused for a moment; she tilted her head, as if recalling something. "And then, I remember it was—like this?" Margarita cupped her breasts with both hands, then squeezed them together and began to move them up and down—her movements were quite clumsy . "The content of Chapter Six is—" Following something methodically, Margarita stuck out her tongue and tentatively licked the tip of Simon's penis, which was protruding from her chest . "Huh, it doesn't taste weird?" "I just took a shower, thank you." Simon suppressed a laugh at what he saw. The mechanical service continued, Margarita squeezing and thrusting diligently, large beads of sweat even appearing on her forehead. Feeling the soft, warm touch flowing between his legs, and seeing the beauty beneath him working so hard, Simon couldn't feel a surge of affection. "Want to take a break?" Simon suggested, stroking Margarita's cheek—in terms of stamina, she certainly couldn't compare to Hannah. "I, I can do it, completely, completely fine?" Margarita's response sounded quite strained and lacked confidence. "Your movements are mostly correct—where did you learn all this stuff?" "I've read books on the subject..." Margarita's movements didn't stop. "Wow, where can I buy books like this? I'd love to know." Simon played with Margarita's long, slightly curly, silver-gray hair, which had become disheveled from " vigorous exercise," sometimes lifting it up and watching it fall from her fingers; sometimes gathering it into several bunches and styling it into various hairstyles behind Margarita's head. "It's not for sale... it's from my family's collection." "Collection of books?" "I just grabbed some from the 'library'—I was in such a rush when I escaped to Ram." Margarita looked nostalgic. "The 'library' had countless books. I was so stupid back then; when I escaped, all I did was stuff books into my suitcase, without even taking a change of clothes or food." "..." "When I reached the border of Ram, I almost starved to death—but I still managed to bring every single one of these books into the academy." "..."

"These books are all my friends left, and I will never betray them." Exhausted,
Margarita finally stopped, her face filled with dejection. She lowered her head and rested it on Simon's lap.

"...You've had a tough time." Touched by a word that resonated with him deeply, Simon felt a pang of sympathy.

"The days at the academy were awful too. I couldn't make any friends, and my luck with men was terrible...
"

Remembering that Margarita had recently been a virgin, Simon reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek,
gently stroking her face with his fingertips.

"Margarita, no, Marty." Simon lowered his head, turning Margarita's face to face him . " I can't marry you
. " "

Ah ... "This? This is, is this a proposal?" "If I had to say, you could call it that—but not entirely." Simon smiled helplessly. " But let's treat tonight as our wedding night—hey, don't cry." "Yeah, yeah." Margarita wiped away her tears. "I understand, it's okay." "Speaking of weddings—we've actually done it before." "Um, let me think, it should be called—premarital 'behavior'?" "Strange term—it makes me want to read your book." Simon planned to buy a house in the city and bring Hannah and Lin Hua over. Hannah would definitely love to stay by Dr. Margarita's side; as for Lin Hua, she'd be kept in—it seems a well-equipped basement is essential. "Simon, what's your last name?" Just as Simon was pondering his "family matters," Margarita suddenly asked a question Simon hadn't seriously considered for years. "Well, I don't have a surname." Simon scratched his head, trying hard to remember. "I think I saw my father and a—and—but I was too young then—and then—" "Oh, sorry." " It's nothing. There are plenty of orphans in the slums—and most of them have never even seen their parents." " Well, it's kind of ridiculous, but actually—Margarita is my family name." "Huh? Margarita is a surname? What's your name then?" "Hehe, we're a perfect match—I don't have a name!" "This—how is that possible?" Simon didn't believe it. “It’s a family tradition,” Margarita said proudly. “It’s a long story—but in short, only the most outstanding scholars in the family are given the title ‘Margarita,’ and it only happens once every few decades!” “Then, if Margarita is the surname, wouldn’t there be many ‘Dr. Margarita’s’?” “No, there’s only one ‘ Dr. —as a way of avoiding the name Margarita.” “Wow, that sounds amazing.” This wasn’t the first time Simon had been impressed . “No wonder the women in my family admire you so much.” “Well, none of that matters. Now you need to listen carefully to what I have to say—” Margarita, blushing, took Simon’s hand and began to recite softly. “I, Margarita, to Simon, now, in the future, and forever.” “What is that?” Simon was a little confused. “Please let me finish!” Margarita interrupted Simon sternly. "..." Simon had never seen Margarita so serious. He fell silent—wasn't this the true, dignified woman she was, worthy of the world 's respect? "I cherish, trust, and respect this person." "With him, I will laugh and weep." "Loyal and deeply loving." "In sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, in hardship and in peace, I will be with him." "Like hands clasped tightly, never to be separated, to protect each other; to possess each other, to be bound together in life and death." "By the God of War, may we be invincible!" After the impassioned eulogy, Margarita gazed calmly at Simon, expecting something. Simon took a long time to react. The God of War was a symbol of the Charon people's worship—this must be some Charon custom, a testament . So— "...I love you." Finally, after racking his brains, Simon chose the simplest vow to respond to the beauty beside him. "—Me too." Margarita replied in kind. The two, feeling like they had known each other forever, gazed at each other for a moment before plunging into a fiery passion. Margarita was the first to lift herself up, taking Simon's upper body into her lower body, moving her hips and waist on Simon's supine body. Having exchanged vows, Margarita seemed to instantly grasp the essence of lovemaking, moaning and swaying her hips, sinking into the pleasure of their physical union. Her strength waned, and she quickly grew sore and aching, but she didn't stop. Instead, she used her arms to support herself on the bed, maintaining the vigorous movements of her hips and waist. Entering, sliding out. Clenching, relaxing—when her arms also became too weak to move, dangling motionless , she squatted on Simon's lap, using the strength of her legs to replace her almost paralyzed waist, squatting up and down, swallowing and releasing Simon's still-immense penis. Simon continued to caress Margarita's burning body, from her waist to her breasts, abdomen and buttocks, and finally to her thighs. With his eyes closed, he blissfully enjoyed the woman beneath him's unreserved service and devotion. Grasping Margarita's outer thigh tightly, Simon could clearly feel the increasingly violent trembling of her lower limbs—she was enduring muscle pain and fatigue, simply to please and cater to him. This was Margarita, an ordinary woman unaware of love, offering him her heart. The perfectly elastic touch, the exquisite sensation with every physical contact. Not wanting to disappoint her, Simon didn't interrupt her efforts, savoring this stubborn tenderness to the fullest extent. He continued to caress her.

He praised her body, complimenting her skills and figure, showering this sincere and lovely woman with sweet words of encouragement, until
she collapsed against his chest.

"H-how was it?" Sweat soaked her chest and back, Margarita panting, collapsing into Simon's
arms.

"You did a great job." Matching Margarita's panting rhythm, Simon stroked her sweat
-drenched .

"Liar."

"Really."

"But you haven't, haven't, haven't come yet..."

"There's still a long night ahead." Simon breathed into Margarita's ear.

"Huh? I'm a little, I can't, I really can't." Margarita's body shrank.

"Then let me do it, let me show you my skills—" With that,
Simon , pinning her beneath him.

A mixture of fear and joy quickly returned, and trusting the man before her, Margarita closed
her eyes.

"Hmm—" Simon moved slightly, "—you seem quite tired."

"No, no, not at all," Margarita awkwardly explained.

"Then, should I be gentler, or more vigorous?" Simon grasped Margarita's nipple, gently
kneading .

"Please, please, please do as you please!" Margarita grabbed a pillow and held it in front of her eyes, "As long as you—
even like last time, it's fine."

"'Last time'?" After thinking for a moment, Simon snatched the pillow from Margarita's hand and placed it
under her waist, "Then I won't be polite."

"Please, please enjoy?" Margarita's answer was somewhat hesitant and stiff.

Simon immediately understood that she was reciting the contents of "a certain book" verbatim.

"Then I'll show you something you won't find in books—" Simon raised his lower body, aiming directly at
the very center of Margarita's flower, "—you won't be sleeping tonight, okay?"

"Ew—Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

Not too unexpectedly, Simon heard Margarita's heart-wrenching scream.

He remembered that last time she bled quite a bit; was going straight to the very end really too aggressive?

Simon paused for a moment, not making any further moves, stopping before the final stamen.

"Th-that, it's okay, I, I, I'm so happy!" Seeing through Simon's concerns,
Margarita comforted him, "No one has ever—"

Margarita choked back tears, her eyes glistening, her face filled with happiness.

"...You, I really don't know if you're doing it on purpose or if you have a natural talent for it." Simon slowly
withdrew his penis back to the vicinity of her vagina. "If you can't handle it, don't say things like that."

Instinctively sensing something, Margarita raised one hand and grabbed the edge of the bed, while the other hand
gripped the sheet tightly.

"If you keep saying things like that, of course others will be tempted to take advantage of you!"

Simon tightened his grip, pinching her delicate nipples between his fingers. Before Margarita could even open her mouth, his
body suddenly sank in—his glans roughly forced open the tightly closed gate at the end of her vagina, probing into the deepest part of her flower path.

Her uterus, drooping due to overflowing lust, was forcibly penetrated, and Margarita opened the very
core , welcoming the man she desired without any cover.

The thick sheet was torn into a ball, and the sturdy bed creaked under the man's rough thrusts.
Simon skillfully controlled the intensity, nibbling at the woman's nipples with a rhythm that teetered between intercourse and sadism,
kneading her full, firm breasts, and pounding on her incredibly delicate clitoris between her legs. He immersed Margarita
in a warm bed of stimulation and pleasure, making up for the world's neglect of her over the past thirty years.

"Ah, ah, ah—I, I, almost, help, help!"

Hearing Margarita's cries for help, Simon recalled his experience of
having sex —it seemed that crying for help wasn't just a whim.

"Ah, scream, scream, no one will come to save you even if you scream your lungs out," Simon joked,
intensifying his assault on Margarita's genitals.

He lifted her by her hips and pushed her against the wall.

"Ugh, I, I, I can't take it anymore!"

The moment Margarita's feet touched the ground, her legs seemed to melt away as if they had lost their bones, and she knelt on the carpet
—Simon's hands immediately gripped her hips, and with his penis still inside her, he
firmly fixed Margarita's lower body in mid-air.

"Hold onto the wall, hurry!" Simon commanded.

Exhausted, Margarita desperately clung to the wall with both hands, even wanting to lean her face and upper body
against it—but Simon thoughtfully held Margarita's lower body and took a step back, ruining her
plan to slack off.

Seeing that Margarita offered no resistance, Simon began to thrust his lower body vigorously,
withdrawing before finally plunging it all the way in.

Hips and pelvis clashed, producing a resounding sound—the slapping of flesh against flesh, Simon's roar,
Margarita struggles and cries of pleasure, all fueling the desires of the boy and woman, driving their intercourse to an even more
intense climax.

In the storm, the small boat in his hands felt like an extension of his body, faithfully obeying his
will, allowing him complete control—this was Simon's feeling at that moment.

Margarita's sensations, however, were hazy due to her confused state of mind. Her consciousness was somewhat blurred;
aside from the impact from behind and the tingling pleasure radiating from her lower abdomen to her limbs, she perceived almost nothing
—and that was fine. The thesis, the world's judgment, the family's mission, the payment for the technology, the patents, her personal
reputation—all these things ceased to exist in Margarita's mind at this moment.

In the final moments, Simon intentionally slowed down. Almost simultaneously, Margarita sensed
something as well. Instinctively, she braced her arms against the wall, pushing her body backward to counter Simon
's weakened strength.

Simon couldn't help but marvel. In just a few days, a woman who had previously been oblivious to romance had so readily transformed into
a captivating and alluring figure, like ink seeping into clear water. This innocent and charming beauty had been tainted by him, bearing
the mark of womanhood.

This was even more impressive than when he had completely shattered Lin Hua's reserve in bed, making her kneel beneath him, utterly submissive.
It's much easier—so, lust and love, for women, especially for a
good woman, are truly the most vile poison.

"Smack!" Simon struck Margarita's buttocks hard.

Contrary to her earlier extreme sensitivity to pain and screaming, Margarita now seemed
less . Instead, she used Simon's blows to sway her hips, arching her back like
a light boat with full sails, riding the waves towards the peak of pleasure.

Simon couldn't help but marvel. He tried the same trick on the other side of her buttocks—the effect was even more remarkable.

So, Simon held back, working with both sides, using the gentlest yet most aggressive techniques and force
to ravage Margarita's buttocks and thighs.

In Simon's slightly wicked play, Margarita seemed to gain boundless energy, indulging in unrestrained passion. Repeatedly engulfing
Simon's thick, straight lower body, Margarita's vagina, with each thrust, caused the soft, delicate walls
to transform thousands of fleshy buds, squeezing and draining Simon's strength and energy from all directions in waves. Simon
was surprised to find that, although her technique was terrible, there was no doubt that Margarita was "taking," launching a counterattack against
him .

Fantastic—as expected of the Doctor, her understanding in this area was much faster than that of ordinary women.

Imagining this, a slightly distorted smile appeared on Simon's face—actually, it was because he
was barely suppressing a hearty laugh that would have made him roll on the floor laughing.

Such a woman is nothing special! The world-renowned Margarita had so easily
submitted to a man (himself)—a wicked desire uncontrollably sprouted within Simon.

But immediately—uh, this thought was terrible, Simon thought.

Sensing Margarita's unconscious "counterattack," Simon grabbed her shoulder and one thigh—
unfortunately, her technique was still too immature.

"Good job, I'm coming, are you ready?"

"Hmm—huh?" Margarita seemed a little confused.

Simon picked up one of Margarita's legs, lifted it above his head, and placed it on his shoulder. Then, looking at her completely
exposed, unprotected genitals, Simon sneered.

"I never noticed before, but the hair here is also silver-gray."

To Margarita's astonishment, Simon slammed into her body.

Her long, slender leg, stretched out on the ground, had to stand on tiptoe to maintain its balance due to Simon's lifting—this kept
her calf and thigh taut, making the lines smoother and the feel much firmer. The leg that Simon was carrying, however
, was completely limp, and the leg that was forcibly lifted backward and upward due to its poor flexibility caused Margarita
considerable pain.

But she had no time to scream, for the man behind her was thrusting into her body with extraordinary ferocity. His
broad chest slammed against her thighs, his firm abdomen slapped against her buttocks, not to mention his thick,
long, muscular penis was bombarding her uterus—Margarita had the illusion that Simon's genitals were
engulfing her, not the other way around.

Just as this absurd, ridiculous illusion was about to push Margarita to the brink of sanity,
she found herself unconscious—yet her consciousness remained perfectly clear.

She clearly felt something filling, permeating, penetrating her depths.

Margarita's hands frantically clung to the wall, her taut fingers digging into the plaster, her
fingertips sinking into the wall—just as she reached the top of the distant clouds.

An overwhelming sense of bliss washed over her, and she turned to say something to the man behind her—but at
the last moment fainted.

"—What time is it?"

"Three-thirty."

In the spacious bathtub, the electric light illuminated Margarita's wet and smooth body as she used
her breasts to evenly spread the foam covering her chest onto Simon's back.

"Is this something from a book too?"

"Yes, let me think, Chapter—546?"

"Wow? This book is so thick!" Simon, whose fear of books was directly proportional to their thickness, exclaimed in surprise.

"I was just kidding..."

After a moment of hesitation, Simon burst into laughter. He turned his head and kissed the beauty's cheek behind him.

"—I, in the past, would never have joked like this with anyone."

"About bathing and sexual techniques? Hahaha." Simon's laughter remained undiminished.

"No, I mean—"

"I can tell, you're not that type."

"What do you think—what kind of woman likes to joke?"

"Well, there are many types." Facing the direction Margarita was pressing, Simon straightened his back. "
Hannah is probably the one who likes to joke, right? Lin Hua isn't so much—"

"Hannah is the redhead, right? Lin Hua is the one with long blonde hair?"

"Yes, they idolize you."

"They have such great figures," Margarita said sourly, "and they're all beauties."

"You're cuter, they wouldn't be under me yelling 'help'."

Margarita's face flushed red. Recalling how she had just been repeatedly
brought to , screaming for help, she buried her head
in the foamy bathtub, so embarrassed that she didn't lift it up until she was almost out of breath.

"Maddie."

"Mmm."

"I'm a little sleepy, how about you?"

"Me too, I, let me sleep with you, okay?"

Simon glanced at Margarita with suspicion, then blinked sharply.

"Uh, I get it, is this one of Margarita's signature jokes?"

"Huh? Is that not allowed?" Margarita looked so sad she was about to cry, "Okay then, I, I'll sleep
on the sofa—"

"Wait, you don't think—" "

Haha! How about it, isn't it funny?"

"...Funny." Simon showed a face that didn't look "funny" at all.

"Hahaha, haha, ha—your face looks scary?"

"Maddie has this kind of talent? Looks like she needs a good reward?"

"Whoa~ Don't come any closer!" Margarita screamed as Simon pounced on her in the bathtub.

Finally, in extreme exhaustion, the two stopped their almost all-night lovemaking and collapsed onto the floor.
On the spacious, soft bed—completely exhausted, Margarita still had Simon help her dry off.

"What time is it?" Simon asked groggily in the darkness.

"5:20."

"Don't you need to look at the clock?"

"Never—"

"Wow, that's amazing—" Simon was at a loss for words.

"Simon, are you leaving?"

"Yes."

"Stay with me a little longer, okay? This time it's not a joke." Margarita snuggled into Simon's arms
.

"I really want to, but I have so much to do."

"Is it dangerous?" Margarita instinctively sensed something.

"It's alright."

"Is it troublesome?"

"Yes, a lot of trouble."

"Can I help you?"

"You've already helped me a lot." Simon wrapped his arms around Margarita's waist, rested his head on her breasts, and
gently rubbed his cheek against them. "The police station beds aren't this soft."

"Um, next time—" Margarita understood and hugged Simon's head.

"Soon, I promise."

"Really...?"

"Um... I promise..."

Before they could finish speaking, the two exhausted men fell into a deep sleep. And so, nestled together, limbs intertwined, Simon and Margarita spent a short but wonderful night

in tender intimacy —too short. (10 PM, October 6, 1900, Charon, Vaneburg Dungeon) "Eek~ How cute." The makeshift bed, somewhat small due to the size of the dungeon entrance, was still quite comfortable for Elson after the thick . "Mayor~?" In the darkness, Elson's eyelids fluttered. "Wake up~" Elson rolled over, moving his arm to the other side of his body. "Mr. Elson!" Once again, although the call was still very gentle, the deeply restrained yet intense emotion pierced Elson's heart like a sharp sword, waking him directly from his dream to reality. "—Hmm?" Slightly awake, Elson's first reaction was that the blankets were a bit too stuffy. "Oh dear~~ Mayor, are you really in a hurry?" A seductive female voice came from beside him, and Elson's second reaction was that his hand was holding . Although he was always "cautious" about matters between men and women, Elson, who was exceptionally experienced, immediately realized what he was touching . "Miss Chami!" Elson broke out in a cold sweat. "Who told you not to wake up~~ So I had to scare you a little? You're something else." Chami grabbed Elson's restless hand—although it was just an accidental touch, Elson couldn't help but squeeze it a few times. "Haha, misunderstanding, misunderstanding." Even though he knew the elusive female assassin was just joking, Elson 's instincts still compelled him to retreat behind the line of "discretion. " "What misunderstanding? ~ You old lecher." Chami grabbed Elson's hand and placed it near her lower abdomen. Even in the dim light of the bed, Elson could easily sense Chami's snickering. "Hmm, the term 'old lecher' is really—if possible, even 'lecher' would be—" "Just 'lecher' is fine? You're quite interesting~ I don't dislike you." "Ah, aha, Miss Chami is joking—" In the brief moment of laughter, Elson, gradually regaining his senses, began to observe his surroundings. "Did you notice?" Chami's fingers lightly traced patterns on Elson's chest. "Hmm, this feels very—" "Ugh! I meant the noise~" "Ah, uh-huh—yes, it really is, too quiet." "I put them to sleep~ Now, even if we do that kind of thing—" Chami said , pulling Elson's hand further down. "Uh, what's the next step?" Not daring to overstep his bounds, Elson tried to get rid of this "awkwardness" with a more serious tone . "You're the employer, aren't you? How would I know about your schemes—Lam, you old fox." "Well, good, good—it's good that they're asleep, but won't they find it strange when they wake up?" Elson knew he had been feigning composure—at his age, he was still dealing with a woman he couldn't quite handle. "Even if they wake up at the same time, they'll notice they've just lost consciousness, won't they?" "No, don't worry, I guarantee they won't realize they're 'asleep'." "Hmm, but they'll have to get up from somewhere, won't they?" "When they're 'asleep,' their posture remains the same; they're simply unconscious —that's a trade secret." "...That's good, that way we won't alert them." Elson nodded. "Don't you trust my abilities?" "Of course I do! I'm worried that if they become aware, your situation will be more dangerous." "Well, thank you very much then." Chami's tone was clearly teasing. "I'm serious." Chami's grip loosened slightly, and Elson seized the opportunity to break free, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It doesn't matter if the plan fails, your safety is more important, Miss!" "You men, all you say is nice—" "No, I'm serious. Listen carefully! This is my request —if things really get out of control, please prioritize your own safety. I have a way to get out of this." "..." "If you—if Miss doesn't mind, go to Ram. Whether you stay by my side or find another place to live , I, Hamonk Hender Elson, will do everything in my power to ensure your safety and happiness." "Happiness—hahaha, hahahahaha, oh dear, no wonder I'm so infatuated with you?" "I am—" "I know, you lecher?" This time, Chami didn't add the word "old," "Let's get down to business."

"Just call me Elson—" Elson pulled the blanket over his head down a little, "—the current
situation is progressing as I expected."

"I don't care about that—just tell me what to do tonight. Is it to kill someone
, kidnap someone, or, to put it another way, what does the master want to do to me—"

"Ah, well, how about this!" Rejecting the beauty's "kindness," Elson suddenly realized
how difficult and agonizing it was to fight against his primal desires. "Could you leave some traces,
making seem like the assassination attempt on me and Wother failed?"

"Huh?"

"Please."

"What a hassle, sir. You seem to just want to stall for time. Or I could deliberately let them catch me
. Ah~ the stuff in this dungeon looks pretty good. Maybe they'll bring me here
for a proper interrogation—I should be able to endure a month of torture, but the price
will naturally go up."

"...Please don't—"

"Ah~ Look at these instruments of torture—what's with that expression? Are you worried I won't be able to handle it?
Touch my body, there are still traces of the past on it— um!"

Chami's words were abruptly cut off by Elson. He pulled Chami to his side, hugged her tightly, and
sealed her resistance with his lips.

"Please, please don't say such nonsense! Enough! Please don't test me anymore, Miss!" Elson's voice
trembled.

"Mayor from Ram, what do you know? Women like us
aren't even worth prostitutes, you know? People like you who have benefited so much from the war,
men who only know how to sit high and mighty at their desks, are simply—I didn't realize you were quite good at kissing~"

Once again, Elson held Chami in his arms.

"—Do you think I'm the kind of bureaucrat who puts on airs all day? I'm a man too, of course I have those
needs. I also crave women, and occasionally visit prostitutes—uh, I'm not married yet
. I've seen too many women with physical imperfections during the war; even though they're scarred, they're
far more 'perfect' than those vulgar, good-for-nothing women. I wouldn't refuse such a woman."

"Easier said than done—weird, man."

"I'm not a saint. I don't abuse my power for personal gain, yet I often embezzle money; I have women I
've admired for a long time, and I also embrace beauties in my arms, uh—I mean, I do like—

" The usually eloquent "Lam's Beacon," Elson, sounded somewhat
clumsy in his impromptu speech.

A warm, moist touch slid down Chami's cheek. And she immediately realized that these bitter
tears had come from both of them simultaneously.

"Oh dear~ How old are you, sir? Why are you crying? Now I'll have to touch up my makeup."

Chami blamed all her tears on Elson—though she herself was almost sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hmm, not quite sixty, I guess..." Elson immediately conceded defeat on the issue of age.

"Oh dear, so much older than me—"

"I see—"

"But not bad."

"Oh, well, thank you."

Chami briskly got out of bed and sat on the edge—she even took off her shoes before getting into bed.

Like lovers about to part, naked and embracing, Chami meticulously put on her clothes—she
had just been lying naked next to Elson.

"Be careful." Before Elson finished speaking, there was a whooshing sound of clothes fluttering in the air, and in a
flash, Miss Chami had disappeared—perhaps this was the "trade secret" she was talking about.

"Don't worry, but this feels a bit unfair to the child." It seemed as if
Chami's voice came from the void.

"—I knew it." Elson nodded knowingly, the unease that had been lingering in his heart since he touched Miss Chami's
body instantly vanishing.

"So you figured it out?"

"Yes, this trick, I—"

"Sigh, I shouldn't have trusted you men."

"Ha, just kidding. Anyway, please be very careful."

"See you tomorrow, you hypocritical and cunning 'old' thing, *kiss*."

Miss Chami, appearing and disappearing without a trace, delivered her usual farewell kiss.

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