Chapter 12.5

“While I’m gone, you’re the acting head, so don’t cause any trouble.”

“Don’t worry.”

Syria smiled, enjoying her father’s gentle touch on her nose.

“I’ll be back in two weeks—just enough time.”

“No, really, take as long as you need. I’ll take good care of the house.”

For the first time, Miland kindly told her his destination and schedule, and Syria answered with a bright smile, telling him not to worry.

Syria waved her hands energetically until the Duke’s carriage and the knights’ horses disappeared into the distance, then quickly lowered her hands.

‘Yes~ Freedom!’

“My Lady, please control your expression.”

“Hm?”

Firenze pressed down on Syria’s upturned lips with a finger.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yes. Anyone could tell.”

Although she’d become close with her father, after all the recent events, she just wanted to stretch out and sleep for two weeks. Syria noticed the servants looking at her strangely and rolled her eyes.

‘Guess I was too happy.’

“By the way, Sir Firenze, why didn’t you go with Father?”

“My original position is as your escort knight, My Lady.”

Firenze, whom she thought would go with the Duke, was instead beside her, seeing him off together.

“I’m in a good mood—shall we take a walk?”

Now that she didn’t have to marry and was close with her father, Syria had no worries. Though something big happened a week ago, it didn’t really affect her, and she never dwelled long on things outside her interest.

She’d learned something shocking at the temple, but the evil god, who was angry and wanted to send her away, wouldn’t be able to do anything for a while.

‘Who would cast such a spell, and specifically wish for me to leave? Hehe.’

It was truly an era of peace and pleasure.

‘Heheh. This is nice.’

“The drill yard is off-limits.”

Syria, naturally heading toward the drill yard, stopped abruptly as if pulled back.

“Tsk…”

“Today is the trainees’ practice day, so they’ll all be surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

Syria squinted at the sparkling Firenze in the sunlight.

“What if they fall for the beautiful lady?”

He was clearly objecting for another reason, but the compliment wasn’t bad, so she turned away.

“Alright. Then let’s go to the back garden.”

Of course, she planned to visit the drill yard later in the day, when the training was nearly over and the sweaty bodies would be best to admire, but he couldn’t know that.

“Let’s walk only until lunch, My Lady.”

The now fully warm breeze announced the arrival of midsummer. When she first came here, spring was just starting—time really flies. Now that she was used to this world, she was already looking forward to what the next season would bring.

After chatting about trivial things during their walk, Syria returned to the main residence and heard from the chief attendant that she had a guest. Not in the usual drawing room, but in her own reception room.

When she entered, she saw the Emperor and Alpen sitting on opposite sofas, with a table between them.

“What brings you both here together?”

Syria tilted her head, wondering why they’d come together, but both only exuded cold air, saying nothing. Had they fought? Karl was snorting angrily for some reason, and Alpen’s neat brow was furrowed with several lines.

“Syria, this guy’s been spouting nonsense.”

“Lady Syria, His Majesty keeps saying strange things. Please explain about our relationship.”

“…What?”

So what? She had no idea what they were suddenly talking about. Could it be that? The crisis of a heroine who’s not just two-timing, but three-timing?

She felt like she was in the middle of a confrontation over her indecisive ways—‘This one’s nice, that one’s nice, oh, the one in the back is even better.’

“Don’t you like my chest the most, My Lady?”

Alpen, dressed in a crisp white shirt, suddenly ripped it open roughly, revealing his abs and thumping his chest. It was a stark contrast to his usual gentle way of unbuttoning. The sound of buttons popping and dropping to the floor echoed.

“What are you talking about? She likes hitting me the most.”

The Emperor took off his imperial robes and even pulled down his trousers, tossing them away with his foot. The thick jacket and pants covered the buttons spinning on the floor. On his remaining body, something bulged under the tight underwear. One hand rested on his waist, while the other held a sword scabbard.

“Ah… No, why are you suddenly undressing in someone else’s house?”

Syria’s shocked voice pierced through the scene as the two men abruptly stripped, but they stood there, unashamed and confident.

Alpen hung his shirt on one end of the sofa and, glancing at Karl’s thick thighs, frowned before moving his hand to his belt. With a click and a zip, he removed his trousers and placed them on top of the shirt.

Startled by the two men in their underwear, Syria covered her face with both hands.

‘If you’re going to undress, do it in your own house. Why here?’

At that moment, a voice suddenly interrupted from behind.

“That’s not true. Lady Syria likes my b*tt the most.”

It was Firenze’s voice. Karl and Alpen’s gazes simultaneously turned to him.

Firenze passed by Syria and approached the two men, then in the blink of an eye, took off all his clothes and stood n*ked—even his underwear.

“Heek…! Firenze, w-what are you doing?”

Now it was a four-way confrontation. Syria looked over the faces of the three men who had suddenly gathered and fiddled with her clasped hands.

‘I was happy not to have to get married, but what is this?’

Ahead of her was a flower path of men’s backsides, but all three men had impressive rear views, so there was no way to decide who was better or worse. Since being possessed by this world, Syria faced her first true dilemma.

Firenze, seeing Syria’s troubled face, flashed a grin, turned his body so his backside was visible, and slapped his own b*tt.

Slap!

A wave rippled across his pale skin under his large hand.

“Here, My Lady, this is the b*tt you love. Do as you wish.”

‘Ohhh…. Him hitting himself is so s*xy.’

Syria’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Firenze slapping his own b*tt. Her mouth was already watering.

“Tch. Even if one more joins, what she wants is me.”

“As expected, but there’s no place for you.”

Provoked by Firenze, the Emperor snorted, and Alpen turned his head as if dismissing the competition. But then, both men saw Syria taking steps toward them. Her rose-colored eyes sparkled like petals, and her blushing cheeks were beautiful.

Syria, like a child drawn to candy, was approaching Firenze’s backside.

Karl and Alpen’s gazes clashed. Then, as if on cue, both men’s underwear fell to the floor.

Syria, who had been heading straight for Firenze, suddenly paused. As she looked over the three men’s backsides lined up, she lost her focus and hesitated. She was about to lose herself in Firenze’s firm lower body, but seeing the other impressive hills next to him, Syria couldn’t keep her composure.

‘Plump, muscular curves, soft bread-like b*tts, and thick, bronze muscular backsides like pot lids. I love them all.’

“Which of us is it?”

“We’ll accept whoever you choose.”

“My Lady, please decide today.”

No, even if they said that, how could she just pick one? Syria, as if bewitched, walked forward with sparkling eyes. She marveled at the three splendid hips before her.

Her dazed, shining eyes darted around, not knowing where to look. She was so excited her legs felt weak.

“I need to take a closer look first.”

Syria quickly crawled on her knees and buried her face into the firm crease of Firenze’s b*tt.

“Haaaah. It’s warm.”

She murmured with her nose pressed right up to his anus, shaking her head side to side. Her lips brushed the inside, and her cheeks pressed against both walls.

Her lips pursed as she tried to dig deeper, her cheeks squished like she was stuck to a window. Still, Syria moved her face side to side, savoring the soft bare skin against her.

Squish, squish.

The balance of fat and muscle gave it a dough-like elasticity and a pleasant grip.

“Kgh… So you like my b*tt the most, right?”

Firenze stroked the back of Syria’s head as she moaned, her face buried in his rear.

“Whew… I really do.”

Lifting her face from where it was pressed, Syria licked her lips and turned her gaze to the side. She saw a gently curved, soft-looking b*tt with more fat.

Crawling over, Syria spread her ten fingers like a frog and squeezed the flesh that fit into her hands.

Slap! Slap!

“Pang! Pang! This is the feeling.”

She happily patted Alpen’s lower body, finally doing the b*tt-patting she’d wanted to try.

“So you like all of me, after all.”

Every time her hand passed, the plump flesh jiggled. She slapped the bulging part from below again.

She liked the feeling of hitting it, but then she saw another angry object staring at her from the side. Crawling sideways like a crab, she saw a massive, sculpted lower body like a statue.

‘This one’s so muscular it might hurt.’

Just then, she spotted the sword scabbard in Karl’s hand. She grabbed it, pushed it against his anus, and tapped the handle, which made her grip tighten.

‘Haa… It’s hard to choose…’

Each had their own charm, so picking just one was difficult. As she wondered what to do, a good idea came to her.

“Can’t I choose all three?”

Not wanting to leave any of the b*tts behind, Syria hesitated as she spoke.

“All of us?”

“Do you mean all of us?”

“I… will always respect your choice, My Lady.”

The Emperor and Alpen seemed flustered, but Firenze answered quickly.

“That’s not a bad idea, but in the end, I’ll be the one chosen.”

“No way. I’ll make sure Lady Syria never forgets this perfect body.”

“I know Lady Syria’s body best.”

Despite their confusion, all three men showed confident pride that she’d choose them. They were sure of it…

At the same time, all three turned around, and three reddened members stood in a row, pointing into the air.

“Haa… Seeing them all together is even better. Is this heaven…?”

Syria murmured with hazy eyes. The three upright pillars each showed off their own color and throbbed.

Firenze’s gently curved pillar, soft like his face, Alpen’s was the smallest but nicely rugged, and Karl’s was impressively large and dark red.

Even Firenze and Alpen seemed startled by the Emperor’s size. But neither intended to back down. They’d appeal with skill over size, muscle over measurement.

“My Lady, you must choose.”

Alpen, showing gentlemanly manners, picked up Syria, who was crouched, and sat her in the center of the sofa.

In an instant, Syria was sprawled on the sofa, drooling as the three men approached. From their members, pr*c*m already glistened like saliva.

“My Lady, you liked my kisses, right?”

Alpen, kneeling on one leg, slipped a hand behind Syria’s neck and lifted her chin. Then, with her head turned the other way, he pressed his lips to her red mouth.

Alpen’s upper lip crossed over her lower lip, landing softly. His soft lips sucked at hers, then his hot breath pressed deep into her neck. His pointed nose tickled her chin as his soft tongue swept inside, stirring wildly.

“Hnnng… mm…”

As she whimpered and moaned, Syria was already tingling between her legs. Firenze, who was at her legs, grabbed her pale ankles and spoke in a deep, pleasant voice.