Chapter 9: Lynne’s Scheme

The mage's resistance proved stubborn, but Bennett had his ways.

"Guard him well. Don't let his magic recover," Bennett instructed the two knights tasked with watching the prisoner. "A mage without reserves is weaker than a commoner. Drench him in cold water every hour—no sleep, no meditation. Keep him awake and alert."

reserves, after all, relied on mental energy. Without rest or meditation to replenish it, even the most skilled spellcaster would crumble.

Returning to his room, Bennett encountered his loyal servant Madd and two guards smirking suggestively outside.

"What is it?" Bennett asked calmly.

"Everything is ready, young master," one guard replied with a sly grin.

Bennett frowned, puzzled, but waved them off and entered his room—only to freeze at the sight inside.

Though the cheap inn offered no luxury, the room had been tidied. Tied to a chair with thick bull tendons (his men's "thoughtful" precaution) sat the long-legged woman from earlier, her fiery demeanor replaced by wary exhaustion.

As Bennett approached, Lynne's heart raced.

*He's just a boy*, she told herself. *Too young for… certain desires.* Yet her instincts screamed: *But men of any age are dangerous when provoked.*

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**Part 2**

Lynne's true fear wasn't physical violation—it was losing control.

At twenty, she had mastered the art of survival. Her striking looks—voluptuous curves and cascading golden hair—were weapons she wielded deftly. In an empire crowded with mercenary bands and adventurers, her ragtag team stayed afloat precisely because she knew how to manipulate men. A coy smile here, a half-promise there—enough to keep suitors enticed but never satisfied.

The curved blade at her hip? A gift from a smitten mercenary captain. The mage they'd "recruited"? Another fool lured by her charm.

But this noble boy… His cold, assessing gaze unsettled her. No lust, no hunger—just calculation. *If he isn't swayed by my looks,* she realized, *I've lost my greatest advantage.*

Bennett circled her, eyeing the bonds. "Comfortable?"

"Delighted," Lynne retorted dryly. "Though I'd prefer a proper invitation next time."

He ignored her sarcasm. "Your mage failed. Your team's scattered. What's your next move, *Captain*?"

She tilted her head, letting her hair gleam in the dim light. "That depends. Are we negotiating… or are you here to prove you're not a *child*?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. *Good.*

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**Chapter 9: Lynne's Scheme (Part 2)**

This venture had been her proudest achievement yet—recruiting a mage. His addition elevated her ragtag adventuring team by leaps, finally granting them a sliver of legitimacy. Their journey south to Kott Province was meant to lay low after her latest… *misadventure* in the north. There, she'd charmed a lovestruck baron into gifting her a family-heirloom leather armor imbued with protective magic—though she'd vanished before he could claim more than a few stolen kisses.

But now? Disaster.

Who'd have thought a backwater town would host a noble with such a retinue? That he'd publicly proposition her? That her mage—who'd boasted endless power while drooling over her—would crumple before a *child*?

*If only I'd ignored that damned whistle,* Lynne cursed inwardly. *Arrogance blinded me.*

As the young noble approached, she steeled herself. *Fine. If he wants to play, I'll endure it.* Losing her prized magical weapons pained her far more: the curved blade from that infatuated mercenary captain, the enchanted armor from the foolish baron… and worst of all, her ancestral **anti-magic bow**—a relic capable of piercing magical defenses.

His hand brushed her arm. Lynne sighed, shifting tactics.

*Young, inexperienced—probably craves conquest.* She lowered her lashes, lips parting slightly, trembling like a cornered fawn. Though playing innocent at twenty felt absurd, she bet his sheltered life had left him clueless.

"P-please…" Her voice quivered. "I… I've never…"

A calculated tear slid down her cheek. *Either he pities me… or desires dominance. Either way, I'll twist it.*

**Chapter 9: Lynne's Scheme (Final Part)**

"Please… don't…" Lynne whimpered as Bennett's hands slid down her shoulders, her body twisting subtly to stoke his possessiveness—a tactic that never failed with green boys.

But his fingers merely undid the buckles of her leather armor, methodically loosening the bull-tendon cords. The armor fell away, revealing her lithe frame beneath a thin bandeau that strained against her curves. She arched her back slightly, peeking through lowered lashes.

*Any moment now,* she thought. *He'll pounce. Or grope. Or—*

Yet his hands stayed clinical, unwinding the bindings at her ribs without lingering. No ragged breath, no stolen glances. When the armor finally dropped, Lynne's confidence wavered.

The boy—no, *noble*—had already stepped back, studying the discarded armor like a scholar appraising a relic.

*Is he blind?* Lynne seethed, her chest heaving under the flimsy fabric. The chill air tightened her nipples, visible through the silk. She coughed—softly at first, then louder.

Bennett didn't glance up.

"Throat sore?" he finally asked, eyes still on the armor.

When he finally met her gaze, amusement glinted in his stare.