Since Seventy-Six became Yoko's handmaid, he had lessened his visits to Denise for pleasure.
It wasn't that he had forgotten his old love for the new, but that he had to spend time taking care of this poor pathfinder—Black Money's punishment was no joke. When Silver Mask, the supervisor, sent her over, she was covered in whip marks and bruises, a far cry from how she looked half a day ago.
Yoko was grateful that he had made the request in time, otherwise, if she had continued to be beaten like this, Seventy-Six would probably have been crippled. That was why Silver Mask said she could no longer serve as a pathfinder—customers would naturally not want a disabled person to serve them.
Fortunately, Seventy-Six's body was quite sturdy, not as delicate as ordinary women, especially her abdomen and back, where you could see faint muscle lines. After applying the medicine, she recovered quickly and was now able to handle the chores in the house—including some small personal services, of course.
Like today.
"Master, would you like me to massage your shoulders?"
Seventy-Six approached after cleaning the room, smiling as she sat beside Yoko—according to the rules, a handmaid was not allowed to approach her master without instructions. She was obviously still trying to please the "guest" in the way Black Money had trained her. However, Yoko didn't mind at all. On the contrary, he quite liked this proactive and enthusiastic teasing.
If she was just a maid who paid attention to rules and followed her master's orders, it would be too boring.
"Sit on me," he put down the unofficial history book in his hand and lay down on the chaise lounge, while Seventy-Six took off her shoes, knelt down, and let him rest his head steadily on her lap.
Then her slender and powerful fingers pressed on his shoulders, slowly kneading—compared to those women who gave more foreplay than massage, her strength was much greater, and her skills were much richer. It was obvious that she had practiced hard and could truly relieve fatigue.
Lying on her lap, Yoko could clearly see Seventy-Six's face. After Black Money sent her over, she naturally no longer needed to wear that bronze mask to hide her identity.
Honestly, Seventy-Six wasn't the kind of woman who was particularly beautiful. In terms of facial features, she could only be considered above average, let alone compared to a witch. But her red lips were just right, especially when he looked up from below, the curved corners of her mouth were particularly enticing.
What was even more wonderful was her figure—Yoko was experiencing a woman with such strength for the first time. She wasn't as plump as most noble women, nor as thin as poor girls. Her limbs were well-proportioned, her skin was elastic, and her chest and abdomen were well-curved... When she tensed her body, he could feel the slightly bulging, solid muscles. For him, who liked novelty, this was much more attractive than mere appearance.
Just as Yoko was planning to take things a step further, the door was pushed open.
It was Hill Fox who walked in.
Okay, the fun time was over. He sighed and sat up. "Are you going to ask me to redeem another witch again?"
Hill didn't answer, but looked at Seventy-Six.
The latter wisely bowed and quickly left the room.
"Just a servant," Yoko shrugged. "You're being too cautious."
"The situation in Dawn is not stable. It's better to be careful at this time."
"Denise is much more prominent than Seventy-Six in terms of reputation and family background. Why don't I see you being so wary of her?"
"Because Denise Payton is someone out in the open, and her background can be investigated through various means. But a pathfinder trained by Black Money cannot be investigated." Hill sat down opposite him and placed a letter on the coffee table in the middle.
"But I think I've already figured out her background," Yoko smiled triumphantly. "I wonder if you want to hear it?"
"Oh?" Hill raised an eyebrow. "Tell me."
It seemed that even a personal guard assigned by an old friend wasn't omniscient. He grinned. "It takes a lot of time to train such a well-trained pathfinder—whether it's her skills in serving guests or her body, which has obviously been honed.
It's impossible to achieve this level in less than a dozen years. Pleasing guests and serving guests have become her instincts, and how old is she now?"
"Twenty-one or two... at most, no more than twenty-five."
"That's right. That means Seventy-Six was about five or six years old when she started receiving this training. Unless she's an immortal monster, it's unlikely that she came from a force other than Black Money." Yoko spread his hands. "And Black Money has no conflict of interest with us. What they do is much more appalling than buying slaves and protecting witches—especially since we haven't achieved the latter yet." He mocked himself, "Witches don't need our protection at all."
Seeing Hill Fox speechless for a moment, Yoko felt refreshed. He picked up the letter on the table, opened it, and frowned after only two glances.
It was actually a formal diplomatic letter issued in the name of His Majesty Roland.
And the content above made Yoko tremble with fear.
The King of Graycastle wanted to stop the Lord of Dawn from continuing to persecute witches? Yoko felt his head was spinning. This was the capital of the Kingdom of Dawn, not the Western Region of Graycastle!
Did his old friend think that Anpein Moya would listen to him?
Not to mention the series of threats that followed—such as not going against the trend of the times, the crumbling Church was the best proof... and that Graycastle would not sit idly by and would reserve the right to take further measures, hoping the new king would take care of himself.
Although the wording was very euphemistic, Yoko believed that anyone who could stand in the palace hall was not a fool. This was simply saying that if Dawn didn't do what Graycastle said, Dawn would be Graycastle's next enemy!
How could he say such things to the Lord of Dawn?
Yoko handed the letter to Hill with a sad face, feeling restless. The little smugness he had just won over the other party had also disappeared.
The personal guard was right. To His Majesty Roland, witches were more important than alliances. But did this kind of threat have any other effect besides provoking the resentment of the major nobles of Dawn? Threats that couldn't be carried out were destined to be a laughing stock.
"What should I do?" Now, only Hill could give him advice.
"Do as His Majesty says," Hill quickly finished reading the letter. "This is your duty as an ambassador. As for Anpein Moya's reaction... I guess he will at most fly into a rage and drive you out of the palace. There will be no other danger."
"That would ruin the relationship we've built with the other nobles," Yoko said gloomily. "The major families of Radiant City will laugh at us as crazy people, and Roland will become the new topic of conversation at banquets... What good is this empty threat to His Majesty?"
"Empty threat?" Hill said noncommittally. "Do you really think His Majesty is just talking?"
Yoko's heart trembled violently. He looked at the personal guard in disbelief. "This... that's not likely..."
"Before the old king was overthrown, Tifeiko Wimbledon thought so too," Hill said slowly. "From what I know, His Majesty Roland never does anything meaningless."