Villain's Odyssey: Enslaving heroines, Conquering Villainesses Chapter 26: Realization

"I think it’s here," Anna said as she halted the horse.

The carriage creaked to a stop, and the door swung open. Azalea stepped out, his boots crunching against gravel. Without a word, he walked to the back and unlatched the carriage door.

What he saw made him pause.

Inside, the purple-haired girl was slumped awkwardly against the wall. Her eyes were rolled back. Saliva glistened across her chin. And despite the confined space, her fingers were between her thighs, frantically moving as if trying to save her own life.

"What the hell is wrong with this bitch?!" Anna snapped, recoiling at the sight. Disgust colored her voice. "Masturbating in a damn box?! Seriously?!"

"H-Haaah... Hahh..." The girl’s breath ca in ragged moans, her face flushed with heat. Clarity flickered in her eyes, but only just.

And the mont she locked eyes with Azalea, sothing inside her broke.

Her restraint vanished. Her dignity collapsed.

"Please... help ..." she whispered, reaching toward him with trembling, desperate fingers. "I need it. I need it..."

Anna grabbed the girl’s wrists and yanked her arms back, glaring at Azalea with dawning horror. "What did you do to her?" she demanded, anger quickly lting into suspicion. "She wasn’t like this before. She was weird, yeah, but not—this."

Azalea didn’t answer. His brow furrowed as he studied the girl.

What happened?

He rembered her trying to seduce him—manipulate him. She’d pushed herself onto him, trying to ignite lust, hoping to make him slip. But now...

Now she was unraveling.

Tears stread down her face, but still she begged to be touched. Begged to be defiled. Why?

Then he rembered the mont he chopped her on the neck. That look in her eyes, right before the she collapsed.

Terror.

Not of death—but of sothing lost. Irrevocably.

"I think she ingested an aphrodisiac," he said quietly.

Anna’s eyes widened. "What? Why the hell would she—?"

He waved her off and stepped closer.

Anna moved in front of him, arms raised. "Don’t tell you’re actually going to...?"

Azalea didn’t reply. He just stared at her, then at the writhing girl.

Anna’s mouth twisted. Sothing bitter, sothing unspoken bubbled up.

Was he going to take advantage of this? Was he doing this because he needed to, or for once the bastard was turned on? Was this girl—this—more appealing to him than she was when she was vulnerable?

She didn’t know why, but she was infuriated.

"Go feed the horse," Azalea said flatly.

"No!" she shouted—and the next instant collapsed to the ground, clutching her ribs in pain.

He walked past her without a glance.

The girl’s eyes shimred with hope as he approached, but her expression betrayed conflict. Even in her delirium, she clearly valued her purity. Maybe she had always played with lust, twisted it, tempted others with it—but never once had she given herself away.

That surprised him.

He’d assud her boldness in the carriage was real, a practiced nymph’s confidence. But perhaps it was all an illusion. A performance. A reflex.

"Please... I’ll do anything... Just fuck ," she sobbed.

Azalea sighed.

"No thanks," he said flatly.

Then he placed a hand on her shoulder and forced a stream of ether into her body.

As an alchemist, he understood how aphrodisiacs worked. And he knew that soone of her caliber—if not restrained—should be able to suppress the effects to so extent.

The cuffs, then, were working. Maybe not fully, but enough to keep her powers dampened. His theory was simple: flood her system with foreign ether, and force her body to respond to the intrusion. In doing so, she might regain control, even temporarily.

Or... he could be wrong.

And the added pressure could break her completely, pushing her over the edge. If that happened, if she lost all control, she might overpower him—and rape him instead.

But he took the risk.

"Haaah... Haaa..." Her breathing slowed. The trembling dulled. Her hands dropped.

She looked up at him.

Those indifferent eyes.

It infuriated her.

"You... didn’t do it?" she said in disbelief. She had begged. Opened herself to him. And he had said no.

What kind of man would refuse that?

"Get out of the box," he said, turning his back. "We have work to do."

He looked up at the massive stone ahead.

He could feel it.

The Legacy.