They were halfway down the winding path out of town when Fina stopped, suddenly and sharply. Her tail stiffened. Her ears flattened. Her expression dropped all traces of playful flirtation. She looked like a beastkin ready to maul.
Allen turned back, mid-bite into what was left of his pretzel. "Yo, Fina? Did you just hear something, or—?"
"That woman," Fina hissed, her voice low and dark. "That smug, high-breasted, holier-than-everyone bitch. The one with the 'oh no, a beastkin touched the air near me' face."
Allen blinked. "Ohhh. Blondie with the attitude. Yeah, I remember. You're still salty about that?"
"I'm not salty, Allen," she growled, her claws twitching. "I'm furious. She looked at me like I was a disease. Like I didn't belong beside you. Like you were dirty for being with someone like me."
Allen gave her a sidelong smirk. "I mean, technically you are pretty filthy most days."
Fina ignored him. Dead serious now.
"I want her ruined," she said, her voice low and intense. "Not just emotionally. Not just sexually. I want her wrecked."
Allen raised an eyebrow, intrigued now. "You're usually the 'watch the world burn' type, but this sounds personal."
"It is personal," Fina snapped. "She didn't just insult me. She insulted us. You. Me. Everything we are. So you're going to make her pay."
Allen tilted his head, licking a bit of salt from his finger. "Go on…"
Fina stepped in closer, her eyes burning gold with intensity.
"You're going to seduce her," she whispered, her tail curling behind her like a whip. "You're going to break into that cold, stuck-up shell of hers, and you're going to show her what a real man feels like. You'll tease her. You'll tempt her. And when she finally caves, when she's moaning your name behind her husband's back, you're not going to make love to her."
Allen's smile crept in slow. "Oh?"
"No," Fina said, voice dripping with venomous lust. "You're going to claim her. Ravage her. Make her forget she ever had a husband. You're going to ruin her for every other man. And when she's lying there, twitching, dripping, addicted to you—that's when I'll step in."
Allen blinked. "You?"
Fina grinned. A terrible, beautiful grin.
"Yeah. You remember that little prank leaf? The one that gave Mirka an existential breakdown in the river?"
Allen snorted. "You mean the one that turned her into a screaming, horny mess until she started babbling about 'God's cruel design'? Yeah, hard to forget."
Fina pulled a small, dried leaf from her pouch and held it up between two fingers. It shimmered faintly in the sunlight, almost innocent-looking. "Itching leaf," she whispered. "One touch, and you can't think of anything except friction. Every little breeze will drive her mad. Her own clothes will feel like torture."
"You're going to leaf her after I bang her?" Allen asked, halfway between horrified and deeply aroused.
"Exactly," Fina purred. "When she's at her weakest. When her body still aches for you. I'll slip this under her waistband and leave her to squirm. Her husband won't be able to touch her without her screaming. She'll be crawling the walls, begging to be used again. And only you can scratch the itch."
Allen ran a hand over his mouth, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face. "Damn, Fina. That's cold."
"No," she said, eyes glittering. "That's justice. She wanted to treat us like filth? Then I want her sobbing into a pillow, knowing the only people who'll ever satisfy her again are the ones she looked down on."
Allen's heart was hammering in his chest now. This wasn't just smut—it was warfare. Carnal, twisted, delicious warfare. And he was the tip of the spear.
"So what's the plan?" he asked. "Stake out her house? Catch her alone? Bring roses and an apology letter that's just a decoy for my tongue?"
Fina licked her lips. "Oh, I've got plans. But you'll need to lay the groundwork. Flirt subtle. Appear everywhere she goes. Make her feel watched, wanted, hunted. Make her remember you even when she's in her husband's arms."
Allen nodded slowly. "And when I finally have her alone?"
Fina stepped forward, tugging him down by the collar. "You ruin her," she whispered. "You take her so hard she can't speak her husband's name without moaning yours. Then you let me finish her."
Allen's breath came a little faster, his blood running hot. This wasn't just revenge. It was a goddamn power play.
"Fina," he said softly, "you're dangerous."
She smirked. "You knew that when I met you naked in a mud bath."
They kept walking, the market fading behind them, but the plan now fully underway.
And Allen? He was already imagining the moment—when that haughty, dismissive woman would be begging, soaked and trembling, for the man she tried to belittle.
One lesson at a time.
The next day, Allen returned to the town alone. Well—mostly alone.
Fina had insisted on coming, but stayed out of sight, crouched behind a thick tree near the outer market square. From her perch, she had a clear view of the fruit stall the woman had visited yesterday—her usual stop, judging by the intel Fina had gathered with a disturbing level of enthusiasm.
"She always shows up late morning," Fina had said with that toothy grin. "And she likes those overpriced golden pears. Predictable, thirsty little thing."
Allen leaned against a nearby fencepost, cloak tugged up slightly to cover his features. His eyes scanned the street, system window open in his peripheral vision.
___
[Skill Activated: Sweet Tongue — Passive aura effect engaged.]
Your words ooze charm and forbidden promise. Target susceptibility increased by 35%.
___
"Oh, we're doing this," Allen murmured under his breath, cracking his knuckles. "Time to turn on the heat."
And just like clockwork, she appeared.
That same woman—honey-blonde hair in a perfect braid, a sky-blue dress clinging to her hips, and a carefully guarded scowl worn like armor. She moved gracefully, confidently, like someone used to being admired. But Allen noticed it now—that little flicker in her eyes. The way her gaze darted across the market, searching. Hoping.
She remembered him.
He waited until she stepped up to the stall and started browsing fruit before making his move.
"Back again, huh?" Allen said casually as he approached, his voice warm and laced with that magical undertone. "You've got good taste. I'd kill for a golden pear."
She looked up, startled, and her face instantly twisted into that same tight-lipped disapproval. "You again," she said sharply.
But she didn't walk away.
Allen smiled. Not cocky. Just smooth. "You remembered me. I'm flattered."
"I remembered a man who doesn't know when to keep his distance," she shot back, clutching a pear like it was a weapon.
"And I remembered a woman who looked like she could use some excitement in her life," Allen countered, his voice dripping with charm. "Your husband keep you this tense all the time, or am I just special?"
Her eyes widened slightly—barely noticeable, but he caught it. A crack. Just a hairline fracture in her icy demeanor.
"I'm married," she hissed. "I shouldn't even be talking to you."
Allen leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a low, smoky hum. "And yet... here you are. Talking."
Behind the tree, Fina's eyes gleamed. Her ears were perked forward, tail twitching like she was watching her favorite porn play out live.
"Use it, Allen," she whispered. "Melt her."
The woman took a shaky breath, turning slightly to set the pear down—but Allen reached out, gently catching her wrist.
Not tight. Not forceful. Just enough contact to make her freeze.
"I don't care about the ring," he murmured, stepping closer. "I care about you. About how your lips curl when you're mad. About how your dress hugs your curves when you walk away, pretending you're not thinking about me."
She looked like she might slap him.
But she didn't.
Instead, her hand stayed frozen in his, and her eyes—defiant, confused, dangerously intrigued—locked onto his.
"You're disgusting," she whispered, but her voice trembled.
Allen smiled softly. Not cocky this time. Almost gentle. "No. I'm honest. And I know you want someone who doesn't treat you like a porcelain doll. Someone who'll whisper filth into your ear while your legs are shaking."
___
[Sweet Tongue Effect: Emotional dissonance detected — internal conflict engaged.]
Target desire +12%, moral resistance -5%.
___
Her cheeks flushed. Not from embarrassment—this wasn't some innocent housewife. This was the flush of heat, of pent-up frustration.
"I should walk away," she whispered, but didn't move.
"Then do it," Allen said, stepping even closer, his breath brushing her ear now. "But you won't. Because for the first time in a long while, you feel seen. Desired. Like a woman, not a pretty accessory for a boring little man."
She exhaled sharply.
Allen released her wrist and stepped back. "Think about it," he said softly. "I'll be around."
He turned and walked away without another word, cloak fluttering behind him, leaving her staring after him with wide eyes and clenched fists.
Behind the tree, Fina was practically shaking with excitement.
"Ohhh gods," she whispered, her thighs pressing together. "That was so hot. She was seconds from dropping that pear and climbing him like a tree."
Allen turned the corner and slipped into the alley, where Fina was already waiting, panting like she'd just finished sprinting a mile.
"You saw that, right?" he said, grinning.
"I saw everything," Fina growled, pressing him back against the wall. "You're evil. She was so close to crumbling. Do it again tomorrow. And the next day. Break her down slow. Get her to meet you somewhere alone."
Allen chuckled. "What about your little leaf plan?"
Fina pulled it out again, twirling it like a dagger. "When she's begging you not to stop? When she finally says your name like a prayer?" She leaned in and whispered, "Then, I'm going to slip this under her panties and watch her squirm."
Allen's pupils dilated.
This wasn't just seduction anymore.
This was domination. Punishment. A delicious, depraved revenge fantasy with a live audience.
And it had only just begun.