Chapter 5 – Useless but Mysterious Junk—Young Master

Arriving home, Lucy quickly gathered the medicine and returned to the suburban mansion, taking an hour and a half.

As she walked down the familiar corridor, Lucy casually asked,

“Is Young Master Aicel… a good shooter?”

“He’s a natural marksman. If he aims, he’ll hit.”

Ulysses answered proudly. Though dissatisfied with his current position, his words revealed pride in being part of the Penden Duchy.

Lucy looked at Ulysses with cold eyes.

“…The target right now is me, so that’s a problem.”

“Oh, Young Master Aicel doesn’t kill people with guns.”

Noticing Lucy’s concern, Ulysses reassured her. He even added that, as a noble, killing people indiscriminately was illegal. Lucy laughed awkwardly and fussed.

“Haha! Of course, right?”

“Yes. Young Master Aicel is a pacifist, so he only shoots people’s feet.”

“What?”

‘Hey, is that something to say seriously?’

Regardless of Lucy’s stunned silence, Ulysses smiled sweetly, “No problem, right?” Lucy, too tired to argue, trudged after him.

“Young Master Aicel, I’ve brought her back.”

Opening the richly decorated door, Ulysses gently nudged Lucy inside with his shoulder. “Huh?” Lucy blinked as she was pushed a few steps forward.

Perhaps bored of shooting indoors, Aicel wasn’t holding a pistol. Instead, he was smoking a cigarette. The vest he’d worn earlier was gone, and now he wore a white shirt, unbuttoned down to the collarbone.

“I’ll leave you for a moment.”

Through the hazy smoke, Lucy stared blankly at the decadent Aicel. She realized Ulysses was slipping out, and panicked.

‘Huh? He’s not coming in?!’

She tried to grab Ulysses’s sleeve, but he deftly dodged her arm, leaving her hand grasping empty air.

Just before the door closed, Lucy saw Ulysses’s victorious smile, as if saying, ‘What are you grabbing? That’s just my afterimage.’

Thud. The door closed.

“…….”

‘I’ve been…!’

It might not be locked, but she couldn’t even think to knock. The wild beast called Young Master Aicel was lazily watching her. If she made a scene, who knew what the mercurial Young Master would do.

‘No, Lucy Noctus. Just do your job. You brought the medicine. Even if it doesn’t work, at least you’ll have tried.’

Gripping the leather bag strap, Lucy summoned her courage and spoke.

“I brought the medicine, but here’s how you use it—”

“Come closer. I can’t hear you.”

Exhaling smoke, Aicel beckoned her over.

He was reclining on a red velvet settee opposite the chair he’d first sat in. As Lucy approached, coughing slightly from the smoke, Aicel’s eyebrow lifted mischievously. He showed no sign of putting out the cigarette. Lucy, struggling to suppress her cough, pulled a small glass bottle from her bag. Inside, a pale green potion sloshed.

Half-lying down, Aicel looked up at her, dissatisfied.

“Too high up.”

Lucy quickly knelt, lowering her eye level. The soft carpet spared her knees from pain. She was relieved.

“Explain.”

“Yes, Sir. You just apply it to a p*nis that’s weak or halfway up. It also helps with premature issues. It’s not a formal pharmaceutical, so the effect isn’t dramatic, but side effects are minimal. Since it’s a sensitive area, just brush it on gently—”

“You do it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do it. Don’t you know how to unzip and take out a man’s c*ck?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you make me repeat myself, I might leave a mark on your head.”

He drew on the cigarette, cheeks hollowing. The tip burned red—just the right size for a burn. Lucy wasn’t scared, just dumbfounded.

‘Ah, the world is wide, and there are so many crazy people. If God exists and created humans, why make someone like this?’

‘Should I grab him by the collar and drag him to the imperial court?’

Lucy suppressed her temper.

‘I lose. Definitely lose.’

“Lucy Noctus?”

Aicel called her name calmly, as if giving a final warning. Lucy stiffened.

“Yes, Sir! I’ll do it!”

Since it had come to this, Lucy resolved that if Aicel Penden’s c*ck was small or ugly, she’d spread malicious rumors about it throughout the Capital for defamation.

Her trembling hand reached for his waistband. Aicel showed no discomfort as a strange woman touched his private area. He was truly shameless. He must have treated his body parts like disposable items.

‘Ugh, this damn troublemaker!’

Instead of embarrassment, he stared intently at Lucy’s face, amber eyes full of curiosity, as if wondering how she’d react.

Determinedly stone-faced, Lucy cursed him as a rake and a lunatic while moving her hand.

Aicel didn’t help undress, so Lucy awkwardly took out his manhood.

Surprisingly, Aicel Penden’s g*nitals were clean, contrary to her expectations. If his hair matched his head—white—she’d have joked it was a mountain spirit’s c*ck.

His member was limp but even shrunken, its size promised greatness. He truly had it all….

Lucy opened the potion, sniffed it out of habit, then took out a fresh brush and dabbed it with the liquid.

“It’ll be a bit cold.”

She warned politely, then gently brushed the important area. But despite several strokes, there was no response. Lucy prayed inwardly.

‘Please awaken, O brave one…’

Never did she think she’d pray like a saint before another man’s g*nitals.

But unfortunately, the brave one only got soaked in potion and didn’t rise. He merely became a man with a wet crotch.

‘Oh no. Did my brother really ruin him?’

Lucy put down the brush in despair.

“It’s not too late. You should call a specialist.”

“…….”

“Young Master, are you listening?”

Lucy, still kneeling, looked up at Aicel and paused. He was staring down at her with an uncomfortable expression. The cigarette he’d been puffing had gone out, fallen from his delicate fingers and now lay on the floor.

Aicel spoke.

“Put that down and give me your hand.”

“Why? Ah!”

Aicel abruptly grabbed her right hand, making her drop the brush. Lucy’s eyes widened as she realized what he intended.

He wrapped Lucy’s hand around his warm, limp c*ck! Placing his own hand over hers, he began to move. Lucy was horrified.

‘Wait, Sir, that’s my hand!’

Just as she tried to pull away, something amazing happened. The c*ck that hadn’t responded even to Lucy’s special potion began to harden.

Aicel’s corpus cavernosum, previously limp, quickly swelled. The rapid er*ction was impressive—thickness and length rivaled a top-tier d*ldo, and the mushroom-shaped head was spotless.

Blood surged, turning the tip red, and prominent veins ran down the shaft. It wasn’t disgusting but wild, strangely arousing to look at. As if Cassia and she had designed the perfect d*ldo, Lucy stared blankly at this ideal manhood.

‘Is this… a muse?’

‘Was this how a sculptor felt when creating a perfect ideal from ancient myth?’

She felt inspiration just passed through.

Aicel continued to m*sturbate using Lucy’s hand, groaning roughly.

“Ugh, ha, ngh…!”

From the round opening at the tip, clear fluid spurted out. Occasionally, a milky, strange-smelling s*men would dribble as well.

Aicel moved his hips as he grew more engrossed in pleasuring himself. The masculine, wild scent lingered at the tip of Lucy’s nose. She blinked. It was odd. Watching the youngest, handsome son of the ducal family groaning in her hand, for some reason, felt strangely stimulating.

The discomfort of being forced to join in this act had long faded, and before she knew it, Lucy’s hand was moving in rhythm.

She told herself this was just some unrecognized act of service.

“Mm, uh, ha. Damn.”

Aicel, even more excited by Lucy’s participation, cursed and quickened his pace.

His twisted expression, the furrowed brow, looked like a hunting dog that bites at its leash but ultimately submits. This stirred in Lucy a strange sense of dominance and control, and she let out a deep sigh of satisfaction—only to suddenly shudder.

‘What am I even thinking right now…!’

“Ngh, ah!”

At the same moment she unconsciously tightened her grip, Aicel cl*maxed. The milky s*men spilled over Lucy’s hand.

“Ha….”

Aicel, deeply satisfied, looked down at her with a languid expression. His now-gentle face, usually filled with a sharp edge, made Lucy blush.

“First time seeing a man’s s*men?”

“No.”

Aicel gave a short laugh at her honest answer. He grabbed a cream-colored cravat draped over the back of a single sofa and wiped himself. Lucy watched, feeling a pang—

‘Such fine silk, now ruined by s*men… That must have been expensive…’

After hastily fixing his trousers, Aicel did something surprising—he wiped Lucy’s hand himself. She hadn’t expected such a gesture of conscience and couldn’t hide her surprise.

But wiping alone wasn’t enough to clean off the s*men. Clicking his tongue, Aicel pulled Lucy up from where she knelt. In one alcove, there was a basin and soap for washing hands or face.

Not only did he direct her to use it, but he also trapped her between his arms in front of the basin, almost as if embracing her. Once again, he washed Lucy’s hand himself, water splashing softly.

Lucy didn’t know what to do.

“I can wash myself.”

Aicel’s relaxed voice came from above her head.

“Just stay still.”

Uncomfortable and awkward, Lucy’s shoulders twitched. Again, the sound of him clicking his tongue.

“Are you always this fidgety?”

“It’s just… an honor to have someone so noble washing my lowly hands…”

Flustered, Lucy didn’t even realize her words were off.

“Well, it is a premium service.”

Oddly enough, Aicel seemed just as awkward.

“Looks like your medicine worked.”

Since he’d only gotten hard after she applied it, that must be it. Lucy nodded shyly. Still, to be this physically close with a man she’d just met—he really was as shameless as rumored. Yet, even as she thought that, Lucy found herself quietly impressed by the firm body she felt behind her.