Her posture finally collapsed completely, and the m*ans flowing between Romei’s lips grew uncontrollably intense.

Blood had already rushed to its limit, and she had become so sensitive that even a slightly stronger stimulation would push her to cl*max. When the strong vibration was applied, an intense pleasure surged through her, making her vision flash white.

She couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Hng, ahh, n-no… hah, no, stop…! Haahng!”

Finally, Romei shook her head and reached the cl*max she had desperately avoided for 30 minutes.

Her neck bent sharply behind the chair as her inner walls convulsed and contracted, and clear liquid gushed from between her legs. The almost non-viscous fl*id wet the office floor.

Romei lingered in the afterglow of her cl*max, hearing her own love juices splatter like rain onto the floor.

Even amid the powerful *rgasm that made even her toes tremble, the despair and shame of ultimately giving in remained undiminished.

The tip of the vibrator appeared between her twitching opening, then slipped out completely and fell to the floor. The strong vibration sound of the device echoed throughout the office along with Romei’s rough breathing.

“Hnngh, huu…”

When Barmas turned off the vibrator, silence finally returned to the office.

Barmas, who had been watching her cl*max, spoke to Romei as she slumped powerlessly against the backrest. His voice showed not the slightest hint of disappointment.

“My, my. You came before an hour passed. Was it good enough to dirty the office floor? Well, not just the floor—the chair you’re sitting on is too soaked to use anymore.”

“…”

“Your body must be so accustomed to pleasure that one *rgasm won’t satisfy you. If you want, I could grant you the honor of serving me…”

Barmas’s arrogant boasting stopped abruptly. He sensed something strange about the atmosphere.

While Barmas was insulting her, mocking her, and speaking obscenities, Romei had forced her weakened body to move, curling up like a ball. Her face was hidden behind both hands.

“Huu… hic…”

Romei’s shoulders trembled slightly. Additionally, there were intermittent, very faint sounds that could only be heard if one listened carefully.

It wasn’t moaning from lingering pleasure, nor crying from excessive ecstasy. It was something entirely different.

Barmas began to feel inexplicably anxious. He thought he should check the face that this woman was hiding from him.

“Hey, lift your head.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, show your face.”

“…”

But Romei refused to lift her head. She seemed determined not to show him. The moist, choked quality in the woman’s voice when she answered that she was fine irritated his nerves.

Barmas narrowed his brows and forcibly removed the hands covering her head and face. Only then was Romei’s face revealed.

When he faced Romei, Barmas strangely felt a pain in one corner of his chest, as if it was being pierced by a long iron skewer. He couldn’t understand why. He had never felt such an emotion before.

And all because of a woman’s crying face.

“…”

“…”

A peculiar silence enveloped the office that until just moments ago had been filled with heat. Barmas had no idea what to say in this situation.

He didn’t know enough about women to comfort her. He couldn’t even guess why she was crying.

Romei also knew that the suddenly awkward atmosphere was her fault.

After briefly watching his reaction—which seemed more shocked than she expected, as she had thought he would continue mocking her regardless of her tears—Romei wiped her tears and spoke, pretending nothing was wrong.

“I’m really fine. I don’t know why you’re so surprised, but don’t worry about it.”

“…”

“…If you want to take me, don’t worry and just do it. You’re a devil, and that’s why you brought me here anyway.”

Romei had spoken those words to reassure him in her own way, but Barmas’s mood hit rock bottom. He didn’t like being treated as a cold-blooded creature with no feelings, especially when he himself didn’t understand what emotions he was experiencing.

Moreover, the tip of her nose and the area around her eyes were flushed red from crying, and her long eyelashes, moving up and down as she looked up at him, were thoroughly soaked with tears. He also disliked how she pretended to be unaffected despite all this.

Barmas, whose l*st had instantly subsided, answered.

“Never mind.”

“…Why?”

Barmas had brought her here to torment her with pleasure until her soul separated. Someone like him had no need to consider her feelings.

“Just a moment ago, you said I wouldn’t be satisfied with just one *rgasm and that you’d grant me the honor of serving you.”

“…I suddenly changed my mind.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes. So stop asking.”

“All right.”

Though she had many more questions, Romei didn’t press further. She didn’t have the energy left to continue arguing with Barmas.

Thinking it would be good to have time alone to recover from the shock of losing the bet, Romei spoke to summarize the situation.

“Anyway, I lost the bet. I don’t know if you enjoyed the show, but I’ll return to the bedroom now. I’ll continue staying in your bedroom from now on, right?”

“That’s… right.”

Barmas had intended that from the beginning, but for some reason, he struggled to answer.

It seemed his discomfort was affecting him, but not knowing why he felt uncomfortable meant he also couldn’t understand why answering was difficult.

Having confirmed Barmas’s answer, Romei gave a faint smile that conveyed neither energy, hope, nor boldness, and said:

“I thought so.”

“…”

“I’ll be in the bedroom, so come if you want me later. Since I lost the bet and couldn’t get clothes, it’ll be easy to take me, just like you said.”

Romei’s continued comments made Barmas increasingly uncomfortable.

What made it worse was that she wasn’t saying these things to mock him deliberately—she genuinely believed and accepted what she was saying. He felt sitting on a cushion full of nails would be more comfortable than this.

“Then I’ll go to the bedroom. About today… I’m sorry. Well then.”

“Wait a moment.”

As Romei unfolded her curled body and tried to stand up, Barmas stopped her. He then took a pitch-black cloak hanging on the office coat rack and draped it over her.

The cloak covered her body completely, even reaching her toes. If she closed the front properly, nothing underneath would be visible.

Romei looked alternately at the cloak on her shoulders and at Barmas. She couldn’t understand why the man who had brought her here to humiliate and violate her would do such a thing.

He seemed to know that such behavior didn’t suit him well, and with an awkward face, he said:

“Wear it.”

“…Thank you.”

Romei had much to say but decided to leave it for later, offering only words of gratitude before departing. Only after the door closed and Romei’s footsteps faded did Barmas realize what he had done.

‘I made a bet about clothes and ended up giving clothes to the person who lost. Without any compensation.’

Barmas found his own behavior extremely puzzling. He could hardly believe that he could be so flustered just because a human cried.

Clearly, he had been enjoying himself immensely while listening to the woman’s m*ans, and his l*st had been boiling. The reason he had risen from his seat and approached her midway was because he wanted to thr*st his *rect member into her twitching opening.

Though she might be somewhat frustrated about losing the bet, it was only natural for a devil to be unfair, and she, as a holy knight, would surely know this well. There was absolutely no reason for her to cry.

‘Did she want clothes that badly?’

Barmas’s thoughts reached this conclusion as he continued his contemplation at his desk. Since it made no sense to him that the woman would cry, this was the only explanation he could come up with.

Humans sometimes become obsessed with utterly useless things. The woman, being human before being a holy knight, might have wanted clothes badly enough to cry.

“I don’t understand why I’m worrying about such trivial matters. I should be spending this time tormenting the woman more.”

He muttered this, but the image of her crying face remained in his mind like an afterimage.

It made him extremely uncomfortable, yet it was strangely beautiful, which made him even more uncomfortable.

Barmas called for a servant to shake off his thoughts. As always, the servant entered the office, bowing his head respectfully.

“You called, Lord Barmas.”

“Here, clean up all traces on and around the chair.”

“Yes, sir.”

The servant skillfully wiped the chair with a dry cloth, then moved it to a corner. Then he thoroughly cleaned the wet floor.

Having finished the task instantly, the servant politely asked Barmas, who appeared to be in a bad mood:

“I have completed the cleaning as ordered. Is there anything else you require?”

“…No. You may leave now.”

“Understood.”

Barmas was about to ask the servant something but changed his mind and dismissed him instead. He momentarily felt pathetic for wanting to ask if clothes were something a human woman would want badly enough to cry over.

The servant bowed to him and left the office, carrying the wet chair.

Once again alone in his office, Barmas heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Lord Barmas.”

It was one of the three familiars he had sent down to Picardin.

—

T/N: It’s so funny seeing Barmas feel bad for her after he made her cry. Stockholm syndrome go brr brr