Chapter 4.4
You don’t want to fall to the floor, do you?
Danielle, now completely disregarding decorum, grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the armrest.
The man let out a pained groan as the elegant wooden embellishment struck the back of his head. Danielle struck his jaw once more and slipped her hand inside his vest and shirt. The man, startled, arched his back in protest, but she firmly pressed her knee into his stomach.
As her knee dug into the vulnerable spot between his solid muscles, the man let out a strangled gasp.
You’re looking a bit weaker now…
Danielle Odillon, investigator, shamelessly ignored her own role in his predicament as she ripped off his vest buttons and searched his pockets.
“Ugh, what are you doing…?!”
“What do you mean? You groped my chest earlier too.”
That action was half a scuffle and half a desperate body search driven by the determination to find something, so the man felt wronged. Even Danielle, who wasn’t particularly experienced, could tell that the man’s hand movements weren’t acts of harassment or caresses. However, the problem was that she didn’t have the leisure to endure such a search, as much as she didn’t have time for harassment.
Instead, she needed to strip the man herself—completely, even down to his underwear—and find what she was looking for. Unlike herself, who didn’t have anything meaningful hidden in her clothes, the man clearly had something. Danielle had distinctly seen him pick up something in the grass earlier. A small cylindrical bottle. It was the lost item dropped by the “real cat.”
So, she had to act first, no matter what. Whether it was contraband perfume, a sealed secret message, or even something entirely unrelated… Danielle rummaged through all the outer pockets of his vest and tore at his shirt. Though the soft solar plexus she had struck earlier was surrounded by impressive muscles, there were no pockets there either. After searching the inner pockets of the vest and the sleeves of the shirt, her hand moved to the waistband of his trousers. That’s when Danielle found something completely unrelated. Not just unrelated, but something… very awkward.
“Ah.”
It wasn’t clear whose sigh it was. As her hand ventured slightly further… well, at that moment, the bulge in his trousers seemed like it might burst. Both of them turned their heads in opposite directions. Danielle lost her resolve, and the man appeared to lose the strength to resist. He clutched at his open shirt to cover his chest. It was a pitifully futile gesture.
“…No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, ugh.”
Danielle continued rifling through the man’s pockets. She even searched the vest again. The man mustered the last of his strength to resist. His efforts to avoid touching her were pitiful. Each point of contact elicited a strong reaction, which startled Danielle even more.
“What is this…?”
“Please, just… stay away… ugh.”
It wasn’t hard to figure out what it was, even without much experience. Danielle briefly felt like she had become a terrible person but quickly regained her composure. Looking back, she hadn’t approached this situation with any intentions remotely similar to those of the people under the shade of the trees. Her lack of experience made it impossible for her to suspect that this man might be a pervert who got excited in such situations.
If neither of them was the culprit, then the cause had to lie with a third party. Having dabbled in drug investigations before, Danielle quickly reached a neat conclusion.
“It’s mosquito repellent.”
“…What? What repellent?”
“Mosquito. Mosquito repellent.”
For some reason, she felt even more embarrassed answering the question. Danielle sighed, and the towering man shrank pitifully. In short, skipping all the middle steps, it meant that a dangerous drug, the kind that belonged in a 150-page romantic novel, was circulating around them.
“So, the troublesome side effect you mentioned earlier was this? Her Highness pranks are always like this… ha.”
Leaving the man groaning in agony, Danielle pinched herself here and there. She even discreetly touched her chest, turning away so no one could see. Honestly, when the man had grabbed her collar earlier, it had felt… well, it had felt a little odd. But it wasn’t as strange as what he was experiencing.
As Senior Lawrence had said, people generally live their lives with some sense of time and place, unless they’re crazy, particularly malicious, or under the influence of drugs.
Danielle wasn’t particularly resistant to drugs, so it was logical to conclude that this drug only affected men. She cursed Princess Cléran in her mind.
‘Mosquitoes bite females, but the repellent only targets males. What’s the point of that…?’
In any case, fortunately for Danielle, the man who had entered the palace wearing a mask to commit a crime was not only drugged but also seemed unable to handle this kind of topic well. Danielle wasn’t particularly strong in these matters either, but in the end, she was clearly the stronger one between the two, at least physically.
Danielle stood up and brushed off her skirt. Since she had already tossed her shoes into the garden, she was barefoot as she prepared to leave. Adjusting her disheveled dress, she looked back at the man, feeling belatedly embarrassed. She wanted to say something, at least…
“Sorry, but I’m not planning to help you with… that.”
“…Please, just leave me here…”
The man’s labored breathing disrupted her rational thoughts. Danielle wasn’t someone who had read a lot of romantic novels, but in stories involving undercover operations at masquerade balls, it always… The man, who had been choking her and twisting her arm without issue just moments ago, now seemed to be suffering from some kind of fever, as if he had stepped straight out of one of those novels.
The pale eyes behind his old-fashioned, mottled mask glimmered with a pleading light. Danielle decided not to think about what he might be begging for.
Ah, he’s just asking me to leave quickly. I’m not doing anything. Seriously, I’m not doing anything!
Danielle backed away cautiously, avoiding his gaze. The man, slumped against the sofa, neither blocked her nor followed her. Clutching the lost item—the “cat’s” cylindrical bottle—she had finally retrieved from the secret pocket of his vest, Danielle hurried out of the lounge. Barefoot, she had no intention of retrieving her shoes, and she ran in a manner completely unsuited to the rhythm of a dance. Her destination was the guard’s escape hole, where Senior Lawrence was stationed.
***
Cyril clutched his chest over his torn shirt, panting heavily. To be precise, his chest wasn’t the part he should have been clutching, but he did so anyway. His head was spinning, and his body felt hot. Blood coursed through him so intensely that his veins might as well have been visible.
‘Sorry, but I’m not planning to help you with… that.’
When the woman in the white mask had looked at him with a visibly troubled expression, even with only half her face visible, he had felt an overwhelming sense of relief, deep in his heart, despite his dazed state. He had donned a mask and infiltrated the ball, but it wasn’t to be toyed with by a woman whose identity he didn’t even know.
He had come to complete a mission, and this wasn’t the kind of masquerade ball held in the back alleys. Of course, it seemed that Her Highness had released “those kinds” of drugs into the palace… Cyril opened his mouth, only to be startled by the moan that escaped, and he quickly swallowed it back. This wasn’t a temporary circulatory reaction that would subside. It was a sensation akin to being gripped and shaken by a vivid nightmare.
Cyril thought of the woman who had casually mentioned Her Highness. Her mask was undoubtedly a product of the Mage Tower. The only time she had truly panicked was when Cyril had touched her mask… Well, she had been a bit flustered when caught in that compromising position too. In any case, it had been obvious from her lack of questions when he mentioned the mask. A suspicious woman wearing a magical mask and conducting some sort of transaction in the palace… This meant that a high-ranking noble capable of commanding a mage was involved.
“Damn it… ugh… argh…”
He couldn’t just lie there all night, thinking endlessly. Cyril knew he had to leave the palace quickly. The thought that one could die from humiliation crossed his mind as he unfastened his trousers and exposed himself. His aroused body, seemingly acting of its own accord, twitched in search of stimulation.
There were only two ways he knew to deal with this situation: either let it subside on its own or endure the shame and self-loathing while taking care of it himself… Then again, after having his most private part exposed to a stranger, it already felt like he had used up a lifetime’s worth of humiliation. With a sense of resignation, Cyril grabbed his firmly aroused member.
It was not a pleasant sensation. It couldn’t be. A wave of discomfort, as though he were being mocked by a woman who wasn’t even present, washed over him. The memory of a nameless couple sharing an intimate moment under the shade of a tree, beneath the curved branches, came to mind. Cyril had always tried not to dwell on such matters. To him, such things between men and women were always tied to marriage, and he already had a fiancée.
Danielle. The daughter of his former lord’s family, with whom he had practically grown up. Their relationship, awkwardly arranged by his father’s ambitions, had never felt natural. Danielle, with her green eyes, pale face, and sharp tongue. Danielle, whose long black hair cascaded like the woman from earlier…
“Ugh, ah, ngh… ah!”
His hands moved efficiently. Stifled moans escaped from his tightly closed lips. Between his fingers, the thick, cloudy liquid spurted out, defying his attempts to suppress it. The sticky fluid ran down his hand, unstoppable. Cyril endured the prolonged release, his breath ragged. The sweet, sticky scent lingered heavily on his body.
Damn it.
He had to find her. The woman who had taken the lost item dropped by the intruder. The woman who had humiliated and mocked him before fleeing. The woman wearing the Mage Tower’s magical mask… Cyril tilted his head back, barely enduring the final wave of release.
He had to find her.