CHAPTER 107: HOT OIL MASSAGE!

"W-Where are you guys going?"

Adrian’s voice cracked like a boy catching his crush sneaking off after curfew.

He had just emerged from his tent, scratching his chest, when he spotted Alice and Lyra whispering conspiratorially together.

Two of the hottest women he’d ever laid eyes on.

His old, crusty mind flared up immediately. Dreams of sweaty threesomes and oils glistening under candlelight surged through his skull.

But then he saw it.

That little green bastard.

Rae. The goblin.

Clingy. Smirking. Breathing the same air as Lyra.

And just like that, Adrian’s morning wood of optimism shattered like a dry twig under a boot.

’What the hell now?!’

His eyes twitched as he watched the goblin saunter beside Lyra like he belonged there.

He doesn’t belong there.

’He—HE—is going with her?!’

’Her tent? At this hour?!’

Adrian stood frozen, mind racing.

’Is he gonna...? No. No way. He wouldn’t—’

But Rae was grinning.

And Lyra wasn’t stopping him.

Alice wasn’t stopping him either.

In fact, she looked like she was watching a sacrificial lamb walk into a volcano.

Adrian’s jaw clenched. His fists too.

He had spent months slow-burning his way into Lyra’s good graces.

Playing the long game.

Well, he can’t approach her like he approaches Alice.

He knew she will immediately punch him into coma.

But that didn’t stop him at all. He had other strategies.

Dropping half-assed compliments.

Offering water bottles during training.

Practicing "accidental" shirtless stretches.

Gooning in the shadows like a respectful simp!

And this?! This snot-colored menace shows up and now he’s the centre of the attention?!

Outrageous.

Adrian’s soul itched with injustice. His blood boiled with betrayal.

’What the hell does this guy want now?’

Rae rolled his eyes, already halfway into adventure mode.

He was planning in his what to do in this session. How to maximise making her addicted to him.

And yet, like clockwork, here came this guy, popping up like an unskippable ad.

"Just for relaxing. Why? You want in too?"

Lyra crossed her arms with a smirk.

"Rae gives world-class massages. Certified stress killer. Magic fingers, right Rae?"

She was in full tomboy gremlin mode again.

Probably just couldn’t resist messing with him.

Something about Adrian’s face seemed to activate her inner chaos goblin.

Adrian looked over at Rae, curiosity slipping past his better judgment.

Rae grinned wide, too wide. Bared his teeth like a wolf pretending to be a dentist.

Then raised his hands like a confused T. rex and did a slow, crunchy chomp in the air.

Adrian flinched. His soul visibly recoiled.

"Nope. Nope. Definitely don’t need a massage. Not even a little bit."

He spun on his heel and walked away like he was trying to escape a haunted spa.

’Man, what’s his problem? It can’t just be the hot water thing. Then what the hell is it?’

Rae stood there, confused and mildly offended.

This was the same guy who used to glare at him like he was something scraped off a boot.

The same guy who made it a hobby to trash-talk goblins and act like everyone here was a side character in his personal tragedy.

And now? He looked at Rae like he’s the goddamn Goblin King!

’What the hell happened to him?!’

Apparently, Lyra noticed too.

"He’s acting weird lately. I wonder what happened?"

She said it casually, eyes tracking Adrian as he shuffled away like a man who’d just seen his future and didn’t like it.

"Mebi he’s abraid of baddle."

Rae shrugged, still trying to figure out what kind of existential horror he had unknowingly become.

"Yeah, that might be it. He must be chickening out. He he he. Stupid Adrian."

Lyra snorted, laughing to herself like a gremlin who just won a petty war.

Well, Rae’s attention had already drifted.

Lyra had her back to him now.

The loose tunic she was wearing dipped just enough to show the smooth line of her spine, the subtle side curve of her breasts, and lower down, the shape that made his brain take a full detour.

That ass. Round like twin moons sculpted by divine hands.

Not oversized, not tiny, just that perfect middle-ground that whispered this belongs in a rap video and blessed are the thighs that built this.

She was like those white girls who were built for BBC’s only Lyra was tanned and more muscular.

...

A minute later, Lyra was lying face down, naked as usual—but this time, a towel was draped over her ass, covering just enough to make it look like she cared.

It reached her upper thighs, barely. More tease than modesty.

She had also made sure Rae wasn’t looking when she undressed.

Turned her back, tossed the clothes quietly, real slow.

All while pretending she wasn’t aware of how closely he paid attention.

Rae saw right through it. Smirked to himself.

She was starting to see him as more than just a pet.

Less loyal mutt, more... problem.

The kind that made you clench your thighs under the blanket at night and blame the heat.

"T-there’s a bottle of oil under the table. I... uh... I bought it from Alice. When she was healing us. Massage oil. Use it."

Her voice was stiff, eyes locked straight ahead like she was reciting a spell.

She was praying today wouldn’t turn into a repeat of that day.

The one where she ended up moaning like a bitch in heat while pretending it was just "healing."

No. Not today.

She had her dignity. Mostly.

But still... those hands.

His hands were too good.

Firm, practiced, way too confident for someone who claimed he didn’t know what he was doing.

It was unfair, honestly. Illegal, even.

Still, she told herself nothing would happen. Not today. No way.

Rae grabbed the oil, came back, and sat down beside her like it was just another job.

To his left, a neat little lineup—health potions, the oil, a cloth. Everything ready, within reach.

’Now what was that quest again?’

Before he could remember, the system flickered to life in his mind. Glowing text. Mission details.

[Special Quest!]

[Massage of Death! - Level 2]

[Objective: Massage her upper body and make her moan seven times.]

[Reward: +40% Resistance to Life Drain | New Skill Unlocked: Superior Hands of Eros (Level 1)]

’Oh, just seven moans. That’s it? Easy.’

Rae grinned to himself. Level seventeen now. More life than last time. More stamina.

More chances to screw around without immediately dropping dead.

’So the life drain should chip away a lot slower now.’

That alone gave him the confidence boost of a man with too many cheat codes.

Lyra was in her forties, sure, but with five full health potions lined up, he figured he had hours of wiggle room—literally and figuratively.

And the quest? Simple. Seven moans.

Just Seven.

After that, he’d unlock forty percent resistance to Life Drain and a shiny new skill.

’Superior Hands of Eros?’

He paused, rubbed his chin like a sage pretending to be deep.

The name screamed pervert. No subtlety, no mystery.

It practically came with its own saxophone soundtrack. Judging by the name, it was definitely massage-related.

Which meant...

’In theory, Lyra’s pretty much fucked today.’

He cracked his knuckles, rubbed his palms together, and let out a low snicker.

The kind of snicker reserved for villains who’ve read the script ahead of time.

Today was going to be very educational. For everyone involved.

"Madame, Mr. Hero come now?"

Lyra blinked. Her brows twitched, cheeks instantly warming as her brain short-circuited.

Why was he asking if Bryce would come? What was he imagining? What was she imagining?

’Dammit! Dammit, Lyra! Don’t be a pervert!’

She gave her head a tiny shake, like that would rattle the filth out.

"N-no. He has his own meditation and practice to do. Th-this tent will be ours... f-fo-for the night."

The words barely left her mouth before her face caught fire.

Why did that sound way too dirty? Why did saying it feel like she was confessing to something sinful?

It was just a massage. Just oil. Just hands. Right?

And then he said that.

"Sho Rae has Madame all do himsef... for the nighd. Good. Good. Rae bill make sure Madame eshperience udmost bleasure."

?!!

Her breath hitched like she’d been sucker-punched by pure innuendo.

Her thighs clenched on instinct. Her thoughts scattered like paper in a windstorm.

’Not good. Definitely not good.’

He was playing with her head. Toying with her nerves. And worst of all?

It was working.

"Mhmm..."

That was all she could manage. Just a tiny sound, half-stifled, too embarrassed to speak.

Her face was already buried in the mattress like she was trying to hide from her own thoughts.

Rae grabbed the bottle, didn’t rush.

Slid a finger under the cork, wedged it in slow, then flicked his thumb. The cork popped off with a sharp snap, flying somewhere behind him.

Lyra flinched hard.

"Oops. Rae’s bad."

He snickered, full of fake innocence, and held the bottle over her bare back.

Then came the pour.

A slow, deliberate stream of warm oil traced down her spine like a lazy serpent.

It slithered between her shoulder blades, glided over muscle, and pooled just above the towel line.

Lyra squirmed. Just from that.

She was way too jumpy tonight.

This was going to be a long, long night for her.