FFF Class Auto Hero: The Weakest Class Turned Out To Be The Strongest? Chapter 52 52: A Taste of Devotion

Lunareio's lips quirked, though his gaze didn't waver.

"Strange, indeed," he murmured, his tone suggesting he wasn't entirely convinced by her deflection.

He set the cup down with care, the soft clatter amplifying Branna's unease.

"Tell , where did you find this milk? It's… unusually rich."

Branna's heart thudded, her mind racing for an answer that wouldn't involve ntioning Lilith's unsettling behavior—or the warm, shimring bottle she'd thrust into her hands.

"Er, the kitchens, my lord," she said, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. "Mara had so fresh stock, just brought in. Goats, I reckon. Really... really good goats."

She winced internally, cursing her own fumbling words.

Good goats? Really, Branna?

Lunareio raised a brow, his faint smile growing.

"Goats," he repeated, as if testing the word. "Fascinating." He leaned back, folding his arms, his dark robes shifting like liquid shadow.

"Well, I ant what I said. I'd like more of it. See to it, will you?"

Branna's stomach plumted. She managed a weak bow. "I… I'll do my best, but the stores might be, er, low. Very low. Might take a bit to find more."

Lunareio's gaze softened, though a spark of amusent lingered. "I trust you'll manage, Branna." He waved a hand dismissively, his attention already drifting to the platter of honeyed figs, as if the matter were settled.

Branna bobbed a quick, jerky nod, grabbing the tray with such force that the empty bottle rattled.

"Aye, my lord. I'll excuse you now." She turned on her heel, her boots clicking against the floor as she hurried toward the door.

The iron door creaked as she pushed it open, the cool air of the corridor a stark contrast to the dining hall's oppressive warmth. She paused, leaning against the black stone wall, her breath coming in short, shaky bursts. The bottle on the tray felt like a lead weight, its warmth still lingering, mocking her. She glared at it, half-tempted to hurl it into the nearest lantern and be done with it.

"Splendid... Absolutely splendid," a female voice said with a bit of excitent.

Branna sighed as she turned to face the speaker, giving them a flat look of disappointnt.

"Lilith... What're you playin' at, skulking about like that? And what was that milk nonsense? You've got in a ss with his lordship now!"

Her eyes narrowed with a look of suspicion as she added, "And that milk... Where in the forge's fire did you get it?"

Lilith stepped into the light, her blindfold firmly in place, though her lips curled into that familiar, mischievous smile. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, each pant curling as steamy breath in the cool air.

She tilted her head, her fingers brushing the collar of her dark blue and white attire. With a deliberate tug, she pulled the fabric down slightly, revealing the sweaty sheen of her cleavage, the dampness from earlier still clinging to her skin, catching the lantern light in a way that made Branna's throat tighten.

Lilith's smile widened, her sharp teeth glinting as she leaned closer, her voice a sultry purr. "You're smart, Branna. Where do you think it ca from?" She panted with excitent, her chest heaving slightly, her blindfolded face radiating a feverish intensity that sent a shiver down Branna's spine.

Branna's amber eyes widened, her blush spreading like wildfire across her freckled face. She took a step back, the tray clattering in her grip.

"You… you can't be serious," she stamred, her voice a mix of disbelief and horror. "That's—Lilith, that's madness! What's the point of this? Aren't you takin' this too far?"

Lilith's hands shot to her own face, cupping her flushed cheeks as her smile turned ecstatic, her panting growing heavier.

"Oh, Branna! It's my way of showing my love, my devotion! Nothing pleases more than knowing our lord was pleased when he consud a part of . It brings such pleasure, such joy, to know he savored it!" she exclaid, her voice trembling with fervor.

Her blindfold did nothing to hide the wild excitent in her posture, her body practically vibrating with delight.

Branna's jaw dropped, her mind reeling as she clutched the tray tighter, the warm bottle seeming to burn in her grasp.

"You... T—This ain't devotion, Lilith—it's… it's sothin' else entirely!" She thrust the tray forward, the bottle clinking accusingly.

"And now he wants more! What am I supposed to do, keep fetchin'… whatever this is?"

Lilith's laugh was sharp and lodic, echoing off the stone walls. "Oh, Branna, you're so delightfully stubborn." She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the tray, her touch sending a jolt through Branna's sturdy fra.

"You'll do it. You'll bring him more. Because I know you, Branna Ironmaw. You won't turn down a request from … you won't disappoint our lord."

Branna's breath hitched, Lilith's words slicing through her resolve like a blade. She wanted to argue, to shove past the priestess and storm back to the kitchens, but the weight of Lilith's presence—her intensity, her certainty—pinned her in place. The corridor seed to close in, the lanterns flickering as if in deference to the priestess's will.

Finally, Branna exhaled, her shoulders slumping. "F—Fine," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "But if this goes wrong, Lilith, it's on you."

She turned, clutching the tray, and marched down the corridor, her boots echoing.

Lilith watched her go, her smile softening into sothing almost fond. "That's my girl," she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of her blindfold. As Branna's footsteps faded, Lilith's expression shifted, a flicker of sothing deeper—sothing calculating—crossing her face.

She turned, fading back into the shadows, her soft hum lingering in the air like a promise of trouble yet to co.

…

…

Back in the dining hall

Lunareio sat at the grand dining table, the faint sweetness of the milk still lingering on his palate.

His cosmic eyes drifted to the platter of honeyed figs, but his thoughts were elsewhere, replaying Branna's nervous deanor and the peculiar warmth of the milk. Sothing about it tugged at his divine senses, a subtle ripple of unease he couldn't quite place.

But just then, a calm, synthetic voice emanated from the depths of his mind.

『Host, Notice: traces of suspicious activity have been detected in the country of Vyrathia. Anomalous energy signatures have been flagged. Imdiate investigation is recomnded.』

Lunareio's brow furrowed, his cosmic eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, the faint glow of the Guardian panel reflecting in his gaze.

The na brought forward a certain mory.

Dazmar, his roguish ally, had ntioned sothing about Vyrathia, hadn't he?

'Isn't that the country Dazmar said he'd be going to begin the rescue?'