Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 25 Just Desserts 4

Unspoken words. A despairing cry for help, silenced by the motionless lungs, still vocal cords.

Despite it being a mere 10 seconds without oxygen, her bodily functions began to shut down. She collapsed in front of him.

Belatedly noticing his slip-up, the man was taken aback at her fall, face turning in irritation. He withdrew his aura, released in his moment's excitement.

'Interesting girl... Able to rile me up like that. It's been a long while, a very long while since I felt...' A fire was ignited in his eyes and loins to possess her.

She would be his.

He helped her up, scaring the wits out the now-frail and limp femme fatale. She tried to reject his assistance but found that it was like an egg pushing against a mountain, immovable, futile. It was already a miracle that she had not cracked like that egg if it were really pushed against the stone walls!

The elegant gentleman sat her down on a chair, not losing a single bit of his poise or the calm smile on his face. Yet she could feel a hunger, an appetite within the mild-mannered man that made her frightened.

'Is this it...? To be "devoured" like just another piece of meat delivered up on a plate for the ruling class...?' Her eyes reddened as she lowered her head; unable to maintain her mask of civility anymore.

Easily noticing her very obvious mood change, the middle-aged man's eyes narrowed. His smile faded.

Then he backed off, sitting down on his chair, gesturing to the invigilator who was still standing at attention near the door to bring something.

Fetching the item he had requested, the Duke cleared his throat - a sign that he was about to get to business.

She felt him come closer, then his smooth, clean but strong hand land on her shoulder. It felt like the mighty paw of an indomitable lion was laying on her.

He spoke.

The moment she dreaded had come.

"How would you like to work for me..." He spoke slowly, deliberately, careful to ensure she heard and acknowledged every word.

Work for him? Hah! To sacrifice her purity, her self, her mind and soul. And what in return?

"...As the head of my personal intelligence team...? I know it will be difficult, and the team is non-existent right now. But with you as the head, I believe that it will be but a matter of time until it grows."

She would have to give up everything - her identity. Her individuality. Her body. Her life.

'Lars...' She began to cry. 'I...'

"Huh?"

She looked up, bewildered, gawking at the shocked noble before her who was equally bewildered.

The Duke was confused, shocked! He had never seen a girl so touched by his job offer that she would be moved to tears!

Then her blank, befuddled facial expression and her "Huh?" perplexed Duke Silvan, leading him to wonder if espionage wasn't her cup of tea!

"Y-you, you don't like the offer...? Erm, then... How about as one of my diplomatic leads? The head position is already filled but..." The experienced negotiator was more than just a little confused, resulting in his uncharacteristic stammering. Had this ever happened before? A trainee slave with nothing to lose and everything to gain, second-guessing his proposition!

"No, I, I... I just..."

What! She was still daring enough to negotiate?!?

His brows furrowed, the expression on his face changing drastically. His face heated up as he frowned deeply.

What an amazingly gutsy girl!

His face was turning red from excitement as he smiled brightly at his lucky find! Here he was just snooping around for fun before bringing the little princess home when he discovered such a gem!

At a young age, able to twist numerous hard-hearted competitors around her fingers... All with just the hint of offering her attention and favour, without actually delivering?

Convincing them to act like her lackeys when they were at least her equals in combat and intellect, with some exceeding her in one area or the other?

Manipulating, scheming, cheating, eliminating her rivals with plots behind plots hidden within even more plots?

All this was accomplished in a situation with her only resources being her face, body and mind... And not among plebeians or foolish nobles, but among sharp-minded, world-weary, battle-hardened trainees who had already learned every trick in the book!

She had still managed to dominate a dozen assassin trainees! Brilliant! Astounding! Superb! A talent! A real, true blue talent!

His heart pumped in euphoria, his desire to possess her in his team surging high, the deep longing rising from his loins, the desire to prove that he could form the best squad! One better than his pompous big brother!

There was NO WAY, no way at all that he would let anyone snatch such a young star from him, never!

He sat down again. He didn't realise that in his excitement, he had stood up and raised a fist to the air.

Wisely, the little vixen and the bald man chose to keep quiet, averting their eyes, putting on a face that said, "Nothing happened!".

'Smart kids...'

He smiled in satisfaction.

* * * * *

[Seline's Point of View]

'???'

'I've... Met another crazy man...??' Her eyes darted once more to the invigilator nearby, then she gulped and quickly looked away when she realised the pervert was looking at her too!

The worst part was... He had rolled his eyes, and his gaze was saying, "What a madman!"

You are the madman, Sarin! You are the perverted, crazy madman!

...Was what she wished to scream out.

The tension in her body had been swept away with the sudden change in the situation. Without the adrenaline keeping her alert and strong, she had to struggle on in the conversation with sheer willpower and mental strength.

Long story short, he had seen her ability to understand people's hearts and weaknesses and manipulate them, and he appreciated her natural disposition.

He wanted her, and wanted to use her - but not sexually. Use her as a trusted member of his staff force.

Her, a discarded, unwanted orphan!

Her, a woman spurned by her one true love!

Her... An assassin trainee consigned to death the moment she fell in the deathmatches - an inevitable end with Linges in the picture...

She sighed in relief, quietly, then nodded firmly.

"Yes, your grace. I accept your offer." She stood to bow, cursing as her foot caught slightly on the soft carpeted surface of the floor. Her body had not yet recovered from the three very recent rounds of emotional upheaval - with Lars, with Sarin, and just now with the Duke.

"Very well." He had regained every ounce of his regal composure, oozing confidence and the blood of aristocracy. "I know this sounds fast, but we leave in an hour. I believe you have nothing much to pack, correct...?"

She nodded, keeping a firm, limpid gaze as her lustrous red-hair bobbed along with her nod. "I'm ready. Only the clothes on my back. Nothing else."

"Alright then." He gestured gracefully, a sign that she should leave. Then as she was rising from the cushioned chair, as if something had just occurred to him, he motioned for her to stop then spoke again.

"Ah, yes. Do you have any requests...? You *do* work for a Duke now, I realise you need the proper support and a team... Perhaps it would be good if you chose some people from your home turn here in the Arena...? I leave it to you. Just say the word, and it shall be as if I myself have spoken."

With that, he beckoned to the muscular invigilator to come over.

"Feel free to make use of Spot here. Whatever you need, just instruct him. I'm sure he'll make himself useful."

The handsome man closed his eyes and smiled as he tried to pat the bald man's head. But as he was sitting, it was too far to reach - so the Duke opened his eyes and frowned at the sweating Sarin.

The scarred man obediently went to his knees, letting his lord pat his head.

Who then grimaced and tried to flick the disgusting sweat off his hand.

Then his gaze returned to Seline. "Any questions, my dear...?" He smiled.

"No, your grace. I'm sure he--" She looked at Sarin, staring daggers at him with a look that said, 'Just you wait... Hehehehe...!!!'

"I'll be sure to make good... "Use" of him..."

She smiled evilly at the frantic, scared bald man who was literally squirming in distress.

"Yes... I'll make *VERY* good "use" of him..."

Chapter end