Chapter 8 : Planning (Part 4)

"Put your hand on my belly," Lynda said, guiding my hand to rest on her slim, delicate waist.

I won't lie—it felt… nice. Touching a woman like this, even though I knew a gruesome fate awaited me, was still an experience on its own.

"Now, your other hand on my shoulder," she instructed. I did as she said, placing my hand lightly on her shoulder while she looked at me with those sharp, piercing blue eyes.

"Take one step back, then one step forward," she continued.

I stepped back as she stepped forward, then I stepped forward as she moved back, keeping in rhythm with her movements.

"Now, hold me as I let myself fall."

Without hesitation, she let herself fall backward, and I quickly caught her with both arms. As I held her, she gracefully raised one leg high before we smoothly returned to our previous position.

"Now, I spin, and then you pull."

She spun under my raised arm, her movements fluid and elegant. As she twirled away, still holding my hand, I pulled her back toward me. She collided softly with my chest, her blue eyes staring up at me as she rested a hand against me.

"Not bad, you certainly have a talent for dancing," Lynda said as she separated from me and took a seat on one of the luxurious purple stools.

"Thank you," I replied, sitting down as well.

"What else do you know?" she asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

"Well, I know things like cooking and house cleaning," I said casually.

Lynda laughed. "Really? Cooking and house cleaning? Were you a peasant in your now-broken country?"

"Nah, I was rich."

She raised an eyebrow before waving her hand, forming two glasses of ice filled with cold water. Handing one to me, she smirked. "Rich, huh? Then why learn things like cooking and house cleaning? Only poor, miserable peasants do that."

"Just because you're rich doesn't mean you shouldn't learn such skills. You never know when they might come in handy," I said, taking a sip of the ice-cold water.

"Okay, okay," she said, amused. "Since you were rich, what kind of job did you have?"

"Well, I didn't really do anything. My father owned a company and a few shops here and there. He used to hire people who secretly immigrated into our country illegally."

"Huh?" Lynda's expression shifted slightly. "Why illegal immigrants?"

"Well, you can hire them and make them work for you while paying them less than minimum wage. Barely anything, really. And they can't even complain about it. It was full-on exploitation."

"I see," Lynda said, a smirk forming on her lips. "What a cunning man your father was. No wonder you inherited this trait of his." She took another sip of her drink before adding, "It makes me even more impressed by you and your lineage."

"Well, what can I say," I said, taking another sip. "Now, tell me, how do you think you'll extract information from the old man?"

Lynda smirked, swirling the ice in her glass before answering casually, as if discussing dinner plans.

"Once he recovers a little more, then the standard procedure—cutting off his fingers, peeling his skin off, and of course, the goats licking his feet." She took another sip, then added, "But if he still refuses to talk, then we'll have to try something else."

Her tone was light, almost playful, but there was a glint in her blue eyes that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Like what?" I asked, already regretting the question.

Lynda leaned back, tapping her fingers on the rim of her glass. "You know, cutting the flesh off his son and feeding it to his daughter-in-law while she's being violated by hungry and lustful men… or something along those lines."

Wow. Now that's seriously messed up.

"I see... but what if all this doesn't work? Then what?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

Lynda paused for a moment, then casually placed her glass down on the nearby table. "Well... I haven't really thought about that, actually." She tilted her head, as if amused by her own lack of planning.

"How about something psychological?" I suggested.

Lynda raised an eyebrow. "Psychological..."

"Yeah. Physical torture and... whatever you're planning might not work. From what I've heard, the old man has an iron will. He'll gladly endure whatever fate you throw at him without breaking." I recalled the character details I had read about him on the game's official website.

Lynda tapped her fingers on her armrest, considering my words. "Then what should we do?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Let's just hope whatever you're planning actually works."

Getting up, I walked toward the table and placed my empty glass down.

"Let's continue our dance practice," Lynda said.

"Sure," I replied, getting back into position—one hand on her belly, the other on her shoulder.

As we moved in sync, she suddenly asked, "Well, you know, I'm curious… what would you have done if you never met me?"

"Not much," I said, stepping back as she stepped forward. "Probably settle in another kingdom and marry someone like Captain Emilia."

Lynda blinked. "Huh? Why her and not someone like me?"

I gave her a look. "Bruh, you're mentally unstable and naturally psychotic. You'd probably give me death by snu-snu on our wedding night."

Lynda frowned. "Death by snu-snu? What's that?"

"You know... how do I explain this?" I said, rubbing the back of my head. "Here, give me your ear."

Lynda leaned in, and I whispered the meaning of death by snu-snu to her.

She pulled back, blinking. "That's it? Death by having sex because of a broken pelvis? What's so awkward about it?"

"Well, let's just say most women aren't exactly open-minded about these things," I said.

She smirked. "I am like no woman you know."

Before I could respond, she suddenly pinned me down.

"And I don't like that you would choose another woman over me!"

"Geez, what's with the sudden shift in tone?" I said, exasperated. "I'm not your boyfriend or husband, you know. Why not save this energy for him? You can't exactly pull this kind of thing on me—it'll lower your marriage chances. If—and I mean if—any guy ever decides to marry you."

Her grip tightened on my collar, pulling me closer. "If that happens, you'll be the one responsible."

"Unfortunately for you, I'll be dead before that happens."

"True," she said with a grin and let me go.

And just like that, we continued dancing as if nothing had happened.