The mage resisted more stubbornly than Du Wei had expected, but Du Wei knew how to deal with him.

“Watch him. Do not let him escape. Remember, he is a mage. As long as you do not let his magical power recover, there is nothing to fear. A mage without magical power is weaker than an ordinary man.” He gave the two knights guarding the prisoner their instructions. “At intervals, give him a cold-water bath. Do not let him sleep or meditate. Keep stimulating him; keep him completely awake.”

For a mage, magical power was bound to mental power. Sleep was the most common way to recover from mental exhaustion, while mages could also replenish themselves through meditation. Denied both sleep and meditation, a mage was merely an unusually frail ordinary man.

Du Wei returned to his room. At the door, he encountered his loyal servant Ma De and two guard knights wearing knowing expressions.

“What is it?” Du Wei asked mildly.

“Young Master, everything is ready. Are you... going in now?” one knight said, trying to ingratiate himself.

Du Wei pursed his lips, failing to understand, and simply waved a hand as he entered. Behind him, his servant immediately shut the door.

There were no luxurious suites in such a cheap tavern, but the tidied room was clean enough. Du Wei soon understood the meaning of those suggestive smiles.

Roline sat in a chair, looking dispirited, her hands and feet bound. To ensure that their master’s pleasure would not be interrupted, the thoughtful guards had used ox sinew rather than ordinary hemp rope.

As the little devil walked toward her, Roline finally became truly afraid. He looked very young. Perhaps a boy his age would not yet do certain terrifying things to her—but she understood perfectly well the temptation she held for men.

In truth, she was not worried that he would covet her fiery looks. She feared the opposite: this little noble seemed too young to care about women, leaving her unable to use her greatest weapon.

Roline knew how devastating her appearance could be. Her allure had always been a weapon she used well. Small adventuring parties and mercenary bands were everywhere in the Empire, while her own little group was barely worth mentioning. The reason it had remained independent rather than being swallowed by another band was that Roline knew how to make use of a woman’s gifts.

When necessary, she did not mind taking a small loss, provided the exchange was worthwhile. The curved blade a large mercenary company’s captain had given her, and the mage she had only recently recruited, had both come to her because of her beauty.

At twenty, Roline was already a seasoned little fox. She knew how to captivate men who approached her with ulterior motives, and how to protect herself from paying too high a price.

Recruiting a mage had been the proudest achievement of her brief adventuring career. With one in the party, her insignificant group had risen at least two full grades in strength.

Her journey south to Cote Province had actually been an escape. In a northern noble's territory, she had seduced a lovestruck baron. So thoroughly had she enchanted him that he gave her an ancestral, magically enhanced leather cuirass. Roline allowed him a few minor liberties, then vanished before he could claim anything more.

Unfortunately, she had run into this trouble in the south. Who would have thought a remote backwater would contain a noble traveling with so many guards? Who would have expected him to flirt with her in public without regard for his standing? And who would have imagined that her party, even with a mage, would be so utterly outmatched?

Damn it. When that mage had drooled over her, hadn't he bragged that he was practically unbeatable? In the end, a child had brought him down.

If only... he had merely whistled at her. If she had endured it, none of this would have happened. Perhaps recruiting a mage had made her too pleased with herself.

Watching the half-grown noble boy approach, Roline sighed inwardly and hardened her heart. Fine. If he truly intended to... mistreat her, she would close her eyes and endure it as though crushed by a ghost.

What hurt more than that were the three magical weapons in his hands. The curved blade had been given by a mercenary captain lusting after her; the leather armor had come from that foolish northern baron. Those could be endured.

But the spellbreaking bow and arrows were an heirloom.

The noble boy reached her, and his hand came toward her. Roline sighed and prepared for her “sacrifice.” How could she please the little fellow enough that he would release her afterward? Should she look frightened to satisfy his desire to conquer? Should she look pitiful and win his sympathy? Or be as gentle and submissive as possible?

After weighing it quickly, Roline decided to play innocent. A hint of shyness, fearful eyes, a guileless and helpless expression... that would best attract a half-grown boy. Perhaps she could not only trick him into letting her go, but even gain some advantage from him.

She began her performance. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly. Her long lashes trembled beneath them, making her look timid and frightened like a rabbit, all the more pitiful. At twenty, pretending to be a young girl was a little absurd, but surely a boy this young had little experience with women. And with so few attendants, he was probably no great noble—perhaps only a country rich man with an inherited title.

Roline had confidence in this expression. It might soften him, draw out sympathy, or even arouse his desire.

“Please... don’t...”

As his hand reached from her shoulder toward her back, Roline delivered the weak plea at exactly the right moment. Her body twisted gently. She knew such a motion would stir a possessive urge in an inexperienced boy.

His hand undid the clasps at the back of her armor, then untied the ox sinew threaded through them. Her body suddenly felt lighter as the close-fitting cuirass came away, exposing the graceful lines of her upper body.

Roline understood the power of her figure and knew how to display it. Beneath the armor she wore only a thin bandeau. Her full breasts stood proudly beneath it. She subtly lifted her chest and opened her eyes a sliver to spy on him.

His hands moved beneath her arms, untying rope after rope, until the armor was completely removed. Roline grew nervous. What would the little devil do next? Pounce and embrace her? Push her beneath him? Or would those hands soon climb to her breasts?

Amid her tension, she even felt a faint anticipation. He was young, but not unattractive...

Then, amid her wild thoughts, Roline felt something was wrong.

It was too calm.

His hands were steady; his movements gentle and unhurried. Most importantly, while removing her armor, he had made no attempt to take advantage of her. Each motion of his fingers was clean. Even when they occasionally brushed sensitive places, not even his breathing changed.

Roline finally opened her eyes. The noble boy stood before her—but to her disappointment, her performance had been completely wasted. He was absorbed in examining her leather armor, so focused that he had not spared her the slightest glance.

Damn it! Can he not see me sitting here like this? Roline grew angry.

She lifted her chest. Beneath the thin bandeau, it rose and fell lightly, and her agitation gave rise to a reaction that left two faint points visible through the fabric. With her exposed white skin and deep cleavage... was this boy not a man? Or was he blind?

Roline coughed softly, trying to attract his attention. It was useless. The young noble did not look at her. He merely carried the armor a few steps away, found a chair, and sat down to study it quietly.

Roline kept coughing. The sound grew louder, until her throat began to hurt. She started to find the situation absurd. Was there something wrong with this little noble? He might look young, but boys his age ought to understand certain things.

At last, just as she was nearly coughing her throat raw—

“Does your throat hurt?” Du Wei asked casually.

He finally raised his head and looked at her.

But there was a distinct note of teasing in his eyes.