CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61 - BAIT ON THE HOOK

Ruth stood there, wet and dangerous.

A white towel clung to her body, covering only what was necessary to hide her most intimate lines. Her skin still glistened with water, droplets sliding down from her dark-blue hair that clung to her shoulders, trailing along her neck and the deep valley of her breasts.

I caught the soft movement of a droplet slipping over that curve... before it disappeared under the towel that hugged her tightly.

Ruth noticed my stare and gave a small, knowing smile. A smile that seemed to read exactly what I was feeling.

"What are you staring at so intently?" Her voice was soft but had a bite. "Never seen a beautiful woman fresh out of the bath before?"

My blood surged, hot and wild.

I blinked quickly, trying to control myself. I’d seen my stepmother naked before, far more sensual and tempting—so I wasn’t that weak.

But inside, I clicked my tongue. Is she provoking me? Should I just pin her down right now?

Ruth stepped closer, her long legs moving with grace and a sensual sway. We were only inches apart. The warm air from her skin brushed against my face. The scent of lavender mixed with wet skin... intoxicating.

Her gaze dropped to my chest, streaked with dried blood. She shook her head slightly with a sly smile.

"You’re... a mess," she whispered.

Her fingertip, cold yet strangely burning, traced across my bare chest. She drew a light line on my skin, then leaned closer, her breath brushing my jaw.

"If you want to stare at me like that," she whispered near my ear, "at least take a shower first."

I stayed silent.

Her finger slid lower, tracing the lines of my muscles before stopping at my waist.

"I laid out clothes for you," she continued, licking her lips slowly. "And once you’re clean..." she glanced at my lips briefly, "...we’ll eat."

Ruth turned slowly, the towel rising and falling with the sway of her hips, as if it might slip at any moment. Her back was flawless. The curve of her waist, the firm shape of her ass... enough to make anyone lose their mind.

I swallowed hard, silently.

Annoying.

She glanced over her shoulder, those blue eyes locking with mine.

"Don’t take too long. I’m hungry."

Then she left, leaving her scent lingering in the air, trapping me.

I stayed there, watching her back until she disappeared from view.

In my mind, I smiled darkly.

Later. There would be time to play with her. For now, I needed to save my strength for this damn quest.

The grime, dried blood, and metallic scent on my body suddenly felt unbearable. I moved toward the bathroom, following the direction she had pointed. Hot water hit my skin as soon as I turned on the shower, washing away the remains of the fight while dulling the fire Ruth had ignited in me.

After the shower, dressed in the clothes Ruth had prepared, I stepped out. She had already set the dining table in the living room, dim chandelier lighting casting the atmosphere of an private dinner.

I wore only a plain black t-shirt and her long pants. Though slightly loose at the waist, they fit my thin frame. The faint scent of her leather lingered in the fabric, strangely comforting.

Ruth looked more dangerous than ever.

Her black tank top without a bra revealed the neat lines of her abs, a slim waist, and a body perfect for fighting, or seducing. Her baggy pants hung low on her hips. Her dark blue hair, partially dry, fell over her shoulders with a wild, natural touch.

She sat across from me, legs crossed.

"Go ahead," she said, pointing at my plate.

In front of me: spaghetti with an irresistible aroma, accompanied by a juicy steak still releasing faint wisps of steam. My stomach growled instantly.

I picked up my fork and took a bite, my eyes widening.

"Delicious" I muttered.

Ruth lifted her chin, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Of course," she said, a hint of arrogance in her tone, as if it were obvious. "I don’t cook garbage."

I kept eating, each bite feeling like a reward after the hell I’d been through. Yet beneath the pleasure, I felt strange.

Small acts of care, simple kindness... felt foreign to me.

I was used to disgusted stares, mockery, and deliberate pain. Used to being discarded, treated as worthless. Even when I’d been tortured badly, all I received was laughter. So when Ruth tended to me, let me sleep in her room, cooked for me, and sat with me like this...

I felt uneasy.

Because kindness... is a language I had almost forgotten how to read.

I paused, staring at the half-eaten steak. A question tinged with suspicion and doubt crept out.

"Why go through all this trouble... treating me like this?"

Ruth, cutting her steak casually, raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was light, but clearly challenging.

I looked down briefly and shook my head.

"Forget it."

I already knew the answer. I wasn’t an idiot.

It had been clear from the start. She knew my abilities and what I was capable of. She surely saw me as someone with immense potential.

So as the true leader of Crimson Dawn, she wanted to bind me to her guild, to make me loyal. And like any clever leader, she invests in her weapon before anyone else lays hands on it—or in this case, before another guild claims it.

Unfortunately, I am not someone who can ever be loyal to anyone. I am the one who will make her loyal to me.

.

.

.

No one could truly predict when a Dungeon Break would occur once a Dungeon Gate appeared in the world. The fastest it could happen was at least one hour.

The general rule says the higher the Dungeon rank, the longer the expected time before a break, but it’s just a pattern. There are rare cases where a Rank A Dungeon could break in just one hour, while a Rank D might take a full day.

So whenever a Dungeon appears, Hunters must be sent immediately to conquer and destroy it as quickly as possible.

I was now inside a Rank D Dungeon. My body had rested enough after the last battle, and my stomach was full from the meal with Ruth.

My plan today was simple: finish this annoying quest. I wouldn’t return to mess around with my stepmother or stepsister until every target was cleared.

Because the other persona I held, Freyden, wasn’t registered as a Hunter, I couldn’t enter as myself. I disguised myself as a member of Crimson Dawn, James Raffles, a weird guy with a netorare fetish.

The Dungeon was quiet but not safe. I was alone, and I wasn’t confident I could finish the quest in one hour—five hours might even be optimistic. If it took too long, a Dungeon Break could happen anytime. But honestly, I didn’t care.

Two orcs appeared before me, heavy maces in hand, faces twisted with anger and primitive madness.

________________

NAME: –

RACE: Orc

CLASS: Orc Warrior

RANK: C

________________

They had just enough intelligence to coordinate, but not enough to be dangerous. I struggled at first, but with Mindrender’s soul-eroding power, they gradually lost control. Madness crept in and consumed their minds.

The first swing severed the nearest orc’s head, blood spraying across my blade and the floor. The second tried to strike from the side, but I was ready. A thrust to the heart, full force, and it collapsed lifeless, eyes staring blankly before death claimed it.

[Successfully killed Orc Warrior]

[Received 30 EXP]

[Successfully killed Orc Warrior]

[Received 30 EXP]

Silence returned to the Dungeon. Only the sound of blood dripping onto the cold floor echoed.