Back in the quiet of their chambers, Rosalee began their usual bedtime routine. The large, claw-footed tub in the bathing room had already been filled with warm water infused with crushed rose petals and a few drops of rose oil. The scent was soft and heady—comforting and decadent.
Rosalee slid into the bath with a quiet sigh, letting the heat loosen their limbs. Steam curled upward and glistened along the tiles. Their skin, still slightly tender from the day's activity, was grateful for the relief. They soaked for a while, letting their hair float around them like silk, the long crimson strands veining through the water like living art.
After a time, they rose, water dripping from their lithe form, and dried off slowly with a thick towel. In front of the vanity, they began their skincare ritual—gently dabbing rosewater essence along their cheeks and massaging a light cream into their skin. The small acts of care were more than habit; they were armor.
Before slipping into bed, Rosalee took a moment to stretch. A few deliberate poses to loosen the tightness in their thighs, arms, and back. Their body—while alluring—wasn't where they wanted it to be yet. But it would get there. Discipline always paid off.
When they returned to the bedroom, lit now only by the low flicker of a bedside oil lamp, they moved toward their folded breeches from earlier in the day. With a deliberate hand, they pulled out the smooth jade pendant, its white surface catching a glint of amber light.
Rosalee sat on the edge of their bed and turned the pendant in their palm thoughtfully.
"Time to begin training… on all fronts."
A half-smile curved their lips.
They laid out a clean towel, pulled back the covers, and undressed fully—no silk robes, no lace. Just bare, soft skin and the memory of a body that once moved like a seasoned courtesan through far more demanding nights.
Now, in this new body—so easily aroused, so finely tuned—they had to start from scratch.
With a dollop of rose-scented lubricant from the ceramic bottle left by Ben, Rosalee warmed the oil between their fingers and let their hands explore familiar territory. The light touch across their inner thighs drew a small, surprised shiver.
"Hng—still too sah‐sensitive…"
They mused to themselves, cheeks warming in the dark.
Guiding the jade pendant downward, they pressed it experimentally along their hole. Their breath hitched. It was small, rounded, not even close to what they once took without a second thought, but as the pendant slowly pushed inward, their body reacted with a tremor of intensity that left them momentarily dazed.
They gripped the sheets, blinking up at the ceiling, a bit stunned at their own reaction.
"Fuck! This is—aaggh—embarrassing!"
They scolded themselves inwardly.
"Back then I—hiik—was a feast. Now I'm undone by—mmhn—a trinket…"
But even that thought made them smirk.
Their mind flicked to all the men on the estate, to Axmel's hands on their waist, to Halrick's voice when he murmured his offer to "help," and to Ben—loyal, blushing Ben—whose hands had just hours ago caressed their back with more care than any lover from their previous life.
Rosalee exhaled, relaxing slowly, letting the pendant settle inside.
'One step at a time. I will become invincible in this new form.'
'And this? This was just… practice stretching.'
Rosalee lay back against the mounds of pillows they propped up behind them, breath shallow and skin damp, their hand tightening around the leather string of the jade pendant. With slow, deliberate care, they began to draw it out again—only to press it back in, each glide easier, each movement sending electric pulses up their spine.
They bit down on their lower lip, trying not to moan too loudly, but their body had other plans. The sensation was raw, overwhelming—their inner walls squeezing around the smooth jade like it was something far more substantial. Each time they sank the pendant back in, their breath hitched.
Then, without warning, it happened—one angled thrust sent the pendant brushing against something deeper, something that made Rosalee's hips jerk up involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping from their throat.
"Ah—ah! There—!"
Their body bucked, stars flashing behind their eyes. A hot rush surged through them as the pressure built, their moans rising with each movement. The pendant was no longer gently coaxed—it was being worked in and out with a wild, unrestrained rhythm, Rosalee's hips chasing friction with every desperate roll.
"More! Ooh—fuck!"
They gasped, half a plea, half a demand.
"F-fuck—need something bigger—nghh—ahh! More, hiik—stretch me—!"
Sweat rolled down their temple as they arched off the bed, thighs trembling, feet bracing against the mattress as they moved harder and faster. Each plunge hit the sensitive spot dead-on now, and their voice pitched into something utterly obscene. No names, no thoughts of anyone else—just sensation, just the burning, almost blinding pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in their core.
And then—
It hit.
Rosalee's entire body seized up with a breathless cry, back bowed in perfect tension as climax crashed through them like a tidal wave. Their hand trembled as the jade pendant was buried to the hilt, hips twitching with aftershocks. The wave of pleasure tore through them so violently it left them light-headed, mouth parted, eyes fluttering shut. White hot spurts pours out, landing on their stomach and thighs, covering their hand and the jade.
They collapsed into the sheets, boneless, flushed from cheek to collarbone. One shaky hand still gripped the string of the pendant, the other sprawled over the sweat-damp sheets. Their long hair clung to their neck and chest, shimmering with the lamplight in ruby waves.
A slow, almost delirious smile curled Rosalee's lips.
"I'll need… a bigger one next time."
And with that, they let their heavy eyes close—body sore, thoroughly used, and deeply satisfied.
***
Ben moved like a shadow.
Clad in a fitted black tunic and matching trousers, soft-soled boots muffling his steps, he slipped out the servants' quarters from his window into the garden of the Florenzia estate. The light flickering from the touches barely caught the flutter of his movement as he scaled a side wall with ease, taking to the garden paths like wind itself. His breath barely disturbed the petals of the moonlit roses.
It had been years since Ben had lived like this—furtive, quiet, and swift. Before the Florenzia family had taken him in, he'd been a street rat, light-fingered and light-footed, using his wind magic to vanish like smoke whenever danger or city guards came too close. He had survived on instinct and speed. That part of him hadn't dulled—in fact, it had sharpened beneath years of disciplined butler training.
Now, that same instinct pushed him through the trellised walkways toward the familiar balcony of Lady Rosalee's room.
Not out of duty. Out of something else entirely.
'…I'm just… concerned…'
He told himself.
'I'm only making sure they're safe… sleeping peacefully.'
Ben crouched outside the balcony doors, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. The heavy velvet curtains hadn't been drawn fully shut, leaving a wicked sliver of golden lamplight spilling into the night. He pressed closer, one hand braced against the cool stone wall, and peered through the gap like a thief stealing something sacred.
The sight punched the air straight out of his lungs.
Rosalee—long, fiery red hair cascading down their slender back in wild, sweat-damp waves—was completely naked now, their clothes long discarded. Their pale, smooth skin glowed under the flickering light, every elegant line of their lithe body on full display. That pert, rounded ass flexed and rolled as they rode their fingers and white glistening object with shameless hunger, back arched deeply, thighs spread wide on the middle of the bed. Their tight pink hole glistened with slick as two fingers plunged the trinket in and out, stretching, fucking themselves with desperate need.
Ben's cock surged to full, painful hardness in an instant, throbbing so violently it strained against the front of his trousers.
From the cracked glass he heard every filthy sound:
Wet, obscene squelching, broken gasps, and Rosalee's wrecked voice.
"F-fuck—need something bigger—nghh—ahh! More, hiik—stretch me—!"
Ben's mouth went dry. Shame flooded him, hot and vicious, but it only made his dick leak harder.
'I shouldn't be here. I should leave right now.'
But his feet refused to move. His eyes stayed glued to the hypnotic roll of Rosalee's hips, to the way their small, flushed cock bounced untouched between their spread thighs, smearing precum across their stomach with every thrust of their fingers.
He staggered back into the shelter of the flowering vine, chest heaving. His hand shook as he slid down the front of his trousers, nearly tearing them off. Seven thick inches of rigid, veined cock sprang free, already drooling a fat bead of precum down the flushed head. He wrapped his fist around the throbbing shaft and started stroking—slow at first, then faster, matching the frantic rhythm of Rosalee's fingers pushing the trinket inside their greedy hole.
Every moan from inside the room went straight to his balls. When Rosalee cried out sharply, Ben's knees buckled.
"Ahh—! Right there, fuck—!"
He pumped his leaking cock harder, thumb swirling roughly over the sensitive head, spreading the slick mess. The wet sounds of his own fist filled his ears, filthy and loud in the quiet night air.
Shlup, schlick, schlick—
His balls drew up tight, heavy with cum. He could feel the orgasm building like fire racing up his spine. Rosalee's voice cracked again—high, desperate, sobbing with pleasure—and that was it.
Ben came like a broken dam.
He shoved his free hand over his mouth to muffle the guttural groan ripping out of his throat. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his pulsing cock, splattering hard into his cupped palm, spilling over his fingers in heavy, creamy pulses. His hips jerked helplessly, fucking his own fist through every intense wave, eyes never leaving the breathtaking sight of Rosalee writhing and fucking themselves through their own peak climax.
Even after the last spurt, his cock kept twitching, oversensitive and still half-hard in his sticky grip. He stood there panting, forehead pressed to the cool window frame, chest burning, shame and raw, filthy satisfaction twisting together in his gut.
Rosalee was a vision—untouchable, elegant, and so fucking obscene it ruined him.
And Ben knew, deep in his aching body, that he would never stop craving this secret, depraved truth.
Quickly—too quickly—he composed himself, cleaned up, and melted into the shadows once more. But something had shifted. Something had cracked open inside him.
He returned to his room in silence, tore off his clothes, and stood under the freezing water of the servant's bath until his skin numbed.
Still, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Rosalee—glowing in lamplight, moaning in longing, unknowing of the man outside the window who had now made a silent vow.
'If they need something… bigger, something better…'
'Then I would find it for them.'
Even if it meant going to the darkest corners of the black market.
---
Rosalee awoke with the soft haze of dawn streaming across the bedroom floor, filtered through gaps between the curtains. A faint soreness lingered in their lower body—a dull, aching pulse that reminded them of last night's… stretching. They moved with a fluid elegance, stretching their arms above their head like a lazy cat before slipping out of bed. There was no embarrassment as they approached the towel, still damp and slightly wrinkled at the edges from where their hips had bucked against it.
With a hum—off-key as always—they tossed it into the laundry bin and padded barefoot into the bathroom. There, they lay the small jade pendant innocently by the sink. Still slick with memory.
Rosalee washed it under warm water, taking great care to lather it with soap, using gentle circular motions until the white jade gleamed like polished moonstone. They patted it dry with a hand towel and carried it back into the bedroom, placing it deliberately beside their bed on the ornate side table—almost like a trophy. Its placement wasn't out of pride, per se, but practicality. It would be used again. Repeatedly.
As they slipped into a leisurely morning routine—massaging rosewater into their skin, brushing out their long red hair, and applying the softest touch of coral-pink gloss—they pondered their next acquisition.
'If this was a "fantasy romance" world modeled after an otome game, there is no guarantee that erotic sex toys even exist here. Damn PG-rated content…'
Rosalee thought sourly, remembering how tame the game had been.
'No mentions of brothels, no overtly sexual scandals—just vague romantic tension and flowery dialogue. Ugh.'
He had almost given the game back to Kyle long before his death but the completionist inside him needed to finish what he started… if only he knew he'd be sucked into it instead.
'Still, if this world has markets, smugglers, and depraved nobles—there must be something. Or someone who can make something…'
With a sigh, they turned their attention to fashion. Today was technically a rest day, so they chose a dress with the express intention of appearing innocent but unreachable.
The Lolita-style gown was coral red, almost strawberry milk in tone. It draped gently off their shoulders, exposing a smooth expanse of collarbone and skin dusted in shimmery powder. The bodice was soft and ribbony, hugging just enough to highlight their slender waist, and the skirt flounced just above the knees with subtle frills and bows dancing like rose petals at every step. Their makeup was light—peach blush, fluttery lashes, and a gloss so sheer it looked like dew. Loose waves of red hair framed their face and fell to the middle of their back in airy, dreamy layers.
They looked like a confection. And they knew it.
When they opened the door, Ben was already waiting—in uniform, looking like he hadn't slept.
Dark circles shadowed under his eyes, and his expression—usually attentive and eager—was distant, like he was lost in some deep moral battle.
"Good morning, Benny~"
Rosalee greeted sweetly.
Ben jolted slightly at the sound of their voice.
"G-Good morning, my lady. You look…"
He paused, swallowing thickly.
"Radiant, as always."
Rosalee tilted their head, examining him.
"Did you sleep?"
He gave a polite bow.
"Of course. Ready to serve."
But his eyes never quite met theirs. That was the first red flag.
Rosalee frowned softly, masking it with a curious smile.
'Strange. Ben had always looked at me like a thirsty man offered a drop of heaven, yet now he's actively avoiding eye contact like a guilty schoolboy.'
Even after breakfast—eaten alone in the sunroom with Ben hovering silently nearby like a restless shadow—his silence stuck out like an ink blot on parchment.
It wasn't until they took a walk through the rose garden that the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
Two maids walked ahead of them, unaware their hushed gossip was drifting back on the breeze.
"—Swear she's trying to seduce Mr. Bell. Did you see the way she talks to him?"
"Some say she even called him by nickname. In front of everyone! It's so manipulative—"
"Trying to climb higher in the house by latching on to the only servant with honor, that's what."
Rosalee stopped walking. Their eyes narrowed. Ben, walking behind them, looked up in confusion.
"Lady Rosalee?"
They turned and smiled—but it was a sharp thing, like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Nothing, just a noisy bug."
But inside, Rosalee simmered.
'So that's why.'
Ben wasn't upset with them. He wasn't doubting them. He was likely just overwhelmed by the sudden attention and lies being spread in hushed corners. Whether he believed them or not wasn't the issue—it was the timing. The perfect crack for doubt to seep in, for hesitation to blossom.
Rosalee glanced over their shoulder at Ben.
He was still trailing behind, carrying a parasol for them, his expression guarded, gaze occasionally darting toward them and away just as quickly.
'He's slipping. Not from me… but from comfort. From certainty.'
'Well, that just wouldn't do.'
Rosalee lifted their chin and sighed, feigning innocence as they allowed the breeze to lift the hem of their strawberry-pink dress, just enough to draw Ben's eye.
"Let's go back, Benny…"
They said sweetly.
"I'm tired of all the thorns here."
Ben nodded.
"Yes, my lady."
And as he followed Rosalee back into the mansion—unaware of the storm quietly blooming behind their scarlet eyes—Rosalee made a note to ease their hold on Ben.
'Let the rumors run their course. Let him come to me of his own will… and when he does, I'll make sure he never wants to leave.'
Because Rosalee Florenzia never lost what was theirs.
'And Benny… was already mine.'
---
Ben hadn't heard a word of gossip all morning.
Not because there wasn't any—he was sure the maids and manservants were buzzing with the latest scandal—but because he simply couldn't hear anything past the thunder of his own thoughts.
Ever since last night… he hadn't been the same.
He had meant only to check in on Rosalee, to make sure they were safe and sleeping soundly in their chambers. That was his duty, after all, his vow to watch over the Second under the guise of care rather than surveillance. But instead—his stomach twisted—he had seen something no butler should see.
And yet, no matter how hard he tried, the silhouette of Rosalee's elegant back arching, their soft moans, and the way their voice begged for more still haunted his mind. Every step he took this morning, every word he attempted to say, was colored by that one intoxicating image. He hadn't slept at all, his body too stirred, his conscience too heavy.
When he greeted Rosalee earlier, all he could manage was a meek.
"...Ready to serve."
His gaze dropped instantly, unable to meet those mesmerizing red eyes. Not when he'd seen them fluttering in pleasure through the cracks of the balcony curtain.
He wanted to run. To drop to his knees and apologize for a sin they didn't even know had been committed.
But Rosalee… Rosalee only smiled, radiant in a soft strawberry red dress that framed their bare shoulders and collarbone like a delicate summer blossom. They looked pure and soft, almost holy, and he felt all the worse for the thoughts that chased each other through his mind like wolves.
Still, he did his best. Held the parasol to shield them from the sun as they strolled the garden. Followed behind at a respectful distance. Made sure every step of theirs was met with silent obedience. But the exhaustion, guilt, and desire weighed too heavy on his limbs.
His grip loosened.
The parasol slipped from his hands and clattered to the cobbled garden path.
Ben froze. Horror washed over him.
"I—Lady Rosalee, forgive me!"
He bowed low, ashamed, heart racing.
"You… have every right to reprimand me. I'll accept any punishment—"
But no strike came. No cruel word. Instead, he felt a gentle hand touch his own, warm and patient.
Ben looked up and saw Rosalee tilt their head, their eyes narrowed not in anger, but concern.
"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"
Ben couldn't speak. His throat constricted with shame.
"Well, we can't have you collapsing now, can we?"
Rosalee said with a little smile.
"Come on."
They gently tugged at his sleeve and led him to a shaded corner tucked away behind the tallest rose bushes. The air was fragrant with petals and birdsong, quiet and still.
Rosalee sat first on a marble bench, and before Ben could process what was happening, they pulled him gently down by the hand, then guided his head to rest on their lap.
"Wha—Lady Rosalee, I… I can't—"
"You can…"
They murmured, brushing back his bangs.
"You will. Just for a little while. I'll wake you up when lunch is ready."
Ben wanted to refuse. He wanted to sit upright, apologize again, keep his distance like a proper butler should. Like he was trained to. But the moment his cheek rested against their soft thighs and he smelled the delicate hint of rose from their scent, his body surrendered.
His chest ached with how much he wanted to stay like this forever.
"I'll protect you, my lady…"
He whispered, eyes finally fluttering closed.
"Always…"
Rosalee didn't respond. They simply smiled softly, letting their fingers lazily stroke through his hair.
Ben fell asleep moments later, with the sun on his back and his heart—unknowingly—already belonging to Rosalee completely.
---
Axmel adjusted the collar of his tunic as he stepped out of the brothel and into the dusky streets of the Florenzia town. The scent of cheap perfume still clung faintly to his sleeves, but it only irritated him further. He hadn't found what he was looking for—truthfully, he didn't know what he was looking for, only that it hadn't been in the arms of the worn red-haired woman whose body bore more shadows than allure.
He scowled to himself as he walked, heavy boots echoing on the cobblestone roads. The town that surrounded the Florenzia estate wasn't terrible, but it didn't shine either. The streets were narrow, hemmed in by brick buildings with curling ivy and faded wooden shutters. Warm yellow light glowed from windows, and the scent of baked bread mingled with horses, sweat, and rose water from passing carriages. It was a working-class town, clearly worn but still holding pride—like an old knight whose armor was dulled but not broken.
As he passed a small trinket vendor on a crooked corner, something caught his eye. A single rose-shaped hairpin glimmered under a lamplight. Its petals were deep navy blue, almost the exact shade of his own hair, and delicately shaped with inlaid flecks of pearl. Without thinking, he reached for his coin pouch and handed over the sum.
"Gift for your lady?"
The vendor asked with a knowing grin. Axmel only grunted in response, turning away and tucking the pin carefully into his coat.
By the time he returned to the estate gates, the sun had dipped behind the horizon, casting a deep lavender hue over the spires of the Florenzia manor. The guards greeted him respectfully, and he gave a short nod in return. He was about to head toward the knight's barracks when the sharp whisper of two maids' voices caught his attention near the hedgerow.
"Did you hear? Lady Rosalee's trying to seduce Mr. Bell. Shameless little—"
"I know. Poor Ben's probably trapped. You know how those Second-borns are, always—"
Axmel's steps halted. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
The next moment, his boots crunched against the gravel with purpose as he stormed toward them. The girls looked up, startled.
"What did you say?"
He asked, voice low and cold.
They immediately paled.
"S-Sir Axmel! We didn't mean—"
He closed the distance and looked them both dead in the eyes.
"You didn't mean to spread lies about a noble of the house? Or you didn't mean to get caught?"
"N-No! It's just gossip—we didn't—"
"You think spreading filthy rumors about Lady Rosalee is 'just gossip'?"
He snapped.
"Do you envy her beauty so much that you'd spit on your own honor?"
The taller maid trembled.
"Please, Sir, we didn't—"
"If I hear even a whisper of this nonsense again…"
He growled.
"I will personally drag whoever's responsible to the punishment chambers. The Lady is an honorable noble. And Mr. Bell is a loyal man who has given more for this family than you ever will with your wagging tongues. Do I make myself clear?"
The other maid's mouth snapped shut. Both girls nodded rapidly, looking on the verge of tears.
"Good. Get out of my sight."
They scattered like frightened mice, skirts fluttering behind them.
Axmel exhaled through his nose and straightened, rolling his shoulders with irritation.
'Disgusting behavior. The kind that rotted morale from the inside out.'
He turned toward the manor, jaw still tight.
He didn't know why he'd reacted so fiercely. Maybe it was the thought of Rosalee's soft voice, the smile they'd given him after asking to be trained in archery, or the way Ben had been quietly shifting ever closer to Rosalee like a moth circling flame. Whatever it was, he didn't like seeing that flame being trampled by cowards.
By the time the sun had fully dipped into the horizon, the rumors had gone silent throughout the estate. Maids now lowered their heads when Rosalee passed. Servants exchanged no more than polite whispers, and some dared not even look their way. The message was clear:
Lady Rosalee was under the protection of two knights now. And one of them was more than willing to kill for her.