The guild hall was louder than when I entered earlier.
Boots thudded against wooden floors. Laughter echoed near the quest board. The scent of ale and sweat mixed with something warm and savory from the back.
"Wow, Renji, you… you hunted a lot on your first day," the receptionist said, eyebrows raised as she untied the pouch.
She poured the monster cores onto the counter, their faint glow catching the lantern light.
"Alright, I'll start counting."
Her fingers moved quickly.
"Slime cores… six pieces. That's 1 silver and 10 copper."
She separated the coins from a small drawer beneath the counter.
"And goblin cores… thirteen pieces. That's 13 silver."
She stacked the silver coins neatly.
"Total is 14 silver coins and 10 copper."
The soft clink of metal against wood sounded heavier than it should.
"Thank you," I said quietly, carefully picking up the coins. They felt solid. Real.
"By the way… is there an inn here?" I asked.
"Of course," she replied with a small smile. "We have rooms upstairs. And actually there's a room that fits for you, small, but perfect for one person."
"I'll take it. How much?"
"One silver per night."
Reasonable.
"I'll pay for three nights," I said. "I'll pay again after hunting."
She nodded and handed me a small wooden key with a carved number.
After leaving the counter, I noticed something I hadn't paid attention to before.
To the right side of the guild hall was a modest eating area.
Not fancy.
Just sturdy wooden tables, long benches, and a stone hearth built into the wall. A large pot hung over the fire, steam rising steadily. The scent of stew filled the air, thick and rich.
Several adventurers sat around:
Some were eating quietly.
Some were drinking beer, laughing loudly.
Others were boasting about today's hunt.
"Good morning," an old woman's warm voice called from behind the counter near the hearth. "What food are you looking for today, young man?"
Her hair was tied in a loose bun, hands wrinkled but steady as she stirred the pot.
I glanced at a nearby table.
A group of adventurers were eating stew with fresh bread, steam rising from their bowls.
She followed my gaze.
"I see… you want stew, didn't you?" she said knowingly.
"A-ah… yes."
"Alright. That's 2 silver."
She turned without waiting for more words and began preparing a bowl.
I stood there quietly, listening to the sounds around me.
The crackle of fire.
The clatter of spoons.
The deep laughter of grown men who had survived another day.
A while later, she placed a wooden bowl in front of me.
"Here, enjoy."
She added a piece of fresh bread to the side.
"I'll add one bread for you. Since it's your first time here. That's my treat."
Her smile was gentle.
"T-thank you."
I paid the 2 silver, and she nodded before returning to the hearth.
I sat at a small table in the corner.
Slowly, I grabbed the spoon.
The steam brushed against my face.
I lifted it carefully… and brought it to my mouth.
The moment it touched my tongue—
Warmth.
Salt.
Meat.
Vegetables softened perfectly.
It felt unreal.
My hand trembled slightly.
My vision blurred.
Tears began to fall down my face before I even understood why.
I kept eating.
Slowly.
Then faster.
Breaking the bread. Dipping it into the stew. Eating again.
"So this is how it feels…" I whispered under my breath.
Clean food.
Warm food.
Food that wasn't thrown away.
Food that wasn't stolen.
Food that wasn't begged for.
For seventeen years, I survived on scraps from the street.
Cold leftovers. Moldy crusts. Whatever strangers pitied me with.
But this—
This was the first time I ate something made properly. Warm. Clean. Served to me.
Not as charity.
Not as pity.
But because I paid for it.
My tears fell into the bowl, mixing with the broth.
I didn't stop eating.
After finishing the last spoonful, I wiped my face quietly and stood up.
The warmth in my stomach still lingered.
For the first time, I didn't feel hollow inside.
I made my way toward the wooden stairs at the side of the guild hall. They creaked softly under my weight as I climbed up to the second floor.
The hallway upstairs was simple and narrow, lit by small oil lamps attached to the walls. Several doors lined both sides, each marked with a small carved number.
I stopped in front of mine.
The wooden key felt strange in my hand.
I unlocked the door.
Click.
I slowly pushed it open.
The room was small.
Very small.
But clean.
There was a single bed placed against the wall, covered with a simple white sheet and a thin blanket folded neatly at the edge. The mattress looked firm, but far better than stone pavement.
Near the bed stood a small wooden table, just large enough to hold a few items.
Beside it, a single wooden chair.
There was a small square window on the far wall, slightly open, letting in cool evening air and faint city sounds from outside.
No decorations.
No luxury.
But it was quiet.
I stepped inside and closed the door gently behind me.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Then I walked to the table and slowly placed my sword on top of it.
The metal made a soft, solid sound against the wood.
I pulled out the remaining coins from my pouch and set them beside the sword.
Before I could make another move, a figure materialized in the dim glow of the lodging's lantern light—tall, handsome stepping out of the shadows like he'd been woven from them. My breath caught sharp in my throat. I knew him instantly. One of the Seven Sins. The air thickened with his presence, heavy and electric.
"W-what are you doing here?" I stammered, shock rooting me in place.
He bowed slightly, a mocking flourish, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. "Greetings, Renji. My name is Caelvyn, Pride of the Seven Sins."
"Why are you here?" I demanded again, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it.
"Why am I here?" He echoed my words with a low chuckle, as if savoring the question. "Alright, I'll explain the details." He paused, violet eyes gleaming with amusement. "Although you could handle all of us at once—we know that much—we, the Seven Sins, decided on something better. Instead of overwhelming you together, we realized a great idea."
"A great idea? W-what do you mean?" Confusion knotted my thoughts, my pulse racing.
Without a word, he stepped closer, his smile widening—predatory, magnetic. The space between us vanished in an instant. His hands found my waist, pulling me flush against him with effortless strength. Heat radiated from his body, seeping through my clothes.
"W-what are you doing?" I asked, voice laced with bewilderment, my mind reeling from the sudden intimacy.
"I'll explain to you," he murmured, that smirk deepening, eyes locked on mine with unyielding intensity.
Then his hand slid up, cradling the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. He tilted my face up and pressed his lips to mine—slow, deliberate, claiming. The kiss was a storm: soft at first, then insistent, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I parted them on a gasp.
"Wa—" The protest died as he deepened it, brushing his lips against mine with rhythmic precision, tasting me like I was a delicacy meant only for him. His other hand roamed my chest, palm flat and warm, fingers teasing the fabric over my skin, sending sparks of unwanted heat coiling low in my belly.
I realized then what he meant by "great idea"—this slow, sequential seduction, each Sin taking their turn to unravel me, to tempt and conquer piece by piece.
When he finally pulled back, I was breathing hard, chest heaving. "Haah... haah..."
But he wasn't done. With deliberate slowness, he shed his clothes—starting with the coat, letting it slip from his broad shoulders to pool on the floor. Then his shirt, revealing the sculpted planes of his torso: pale skin stretched over lean muscle, a faint trail of golden hair leading downward. His fingers hooked into his underwear, tugging it down inch by inch. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, standing proud against his abdomen—veined, flushed, a testament to his unshakeable arrogance.
I froze, eyes wide, a flush creeping up my neck.
He turned his attention to me then, hands deft and sure as they tugged at my shirt, peeling it away. I tried to resist—pushing weakly at his chest—but he was unyielding, his strength casual, overwhelming.
"Wait... argh," I gasped, but he only chuckled, low and dark.
He shoved me back onto the bed, the mattress creaking under my weight as I sprawled there, exposed and vulnerable. He loomed over me, that playful grin flashing—eyes alight with wicked delight, brows arched in mock innocence, lips parted just enough to show a hint of teeth.
"Shhh," he whispered, placing a finger to his lips. "If you make a loud noise, the others will hear you." His expression was pure mischief, but beneath it burned that core of pride—satisfied, superior, reveling in my flustered state.
Then he lowered himself onto the bed, body aligning with mine. His mouth found my chest, tongue flicking out to circle my left nipple—wet, teasing—before sucking it between his lips with a gentle pull. His eyes never left mine, watching my reactions with intense focus: the way my face twisted in reluctant pleasure, brows furrowing, mouth falling open on a stifled gasp. One hand pinched and rolled the other nipple, sending jolts of sensation straight to my core, while his free hand traced lazy patterns down my side, building tension like a coiled spring.
"Urgh," I managed, voice low and ragged, biting my lip to muffle it.
He hummed approval against my skin, the vibration adding to the torment. His expression shifted—smirk softening into something hungrier, eyes darkening with desire as he savored my every twitch and shiver. The air grew thick, charged with the scent of sweat and arousal, the lantern's flicker casting shadows that danced over his golden hair and sharp features.
Satisfied with my unraveling, he moved lower, fingers hooking into my pants and dragging them down with excruciating slowness—exposing me inch by inch to the cool air and his heated gaze. His eyes roamed appreciatively, pride evident in the way he licked his lips, as if appraising a prize he'd already claimed.
"W-wait, I can't," I whispered, voice weakening, body trembling from the mix of shock and building heat.
"Calm down," he soothed, though his smirk said otherwise—arrogant, teasing. "I'll put it in slowly, okay?"
He shifted between my legs, guiding his hard length to brush against me—hot, insistent, the tip teasing my entrance with light pressure. The contact sent a shiver through me, tension coiling tighter in my gut. He watched my face intently, expression a mask of controlled hunger: jaw clenched slightly, violet eyes hooded, breath coming in measured pants that betrayed his own excitement.
Then he pushed forward—slow, relentless—the blunt head breaching me, stretching me open with a burn that bordered on exquisite agony. "A-argh," I reacted, back arching off the bed.
"Shh," he murmured, leaning down to capture my lips again, silencing me with a kiss that muffled my cries.
He inched deeper, the fullness overwhelming—pain flaring bright at first, making tears prick my eyes. I clutched at the sheets, holding my mouth shut, body tensing around him. But he didn't rush; his movements were calculated, hips rocking gently to ease the way, his cock sliding in further with each shallow thrust. The friction built heat, the initial sting melting into something deeper, more insistent—a pressure that had my toes curling.
He grabbed my hands then, pinning them above my head with one strong grip, while his other hand hooked under my knee, spreading my legs wider. The new angle made everything more intense: him buried deeper, hitting spots that sent sparks of unwilling pleasure racing up my spine. Pain twisted with heat, each thrust dragging a low groan from me despite my efforts to stay quiet.
"It hurts," I whimpered, voice breaking as he continued—body moving over mine in a rhythm that grew steadier, more demanding.
"Relax," he breathed, voice husky, strained with his own restraint. His expression was intoxicating: sweat beading on his forehead, golden strands sticking to his skin, lips parted in concentration and bliss. Eyes locked on mine, filled with that proud fire—as if this was his masterpiece, me coming undone beneath him. "You'll get used to it."
And slowly, agonizingly, I did. The burn eased, replaced by a throbbing fullness that had my hips shifting instinctively, meeting his thrusts. Tension ratcheted higher—hotter—with every slide of his cock, the slick sounds of our bodies mingling with stifled moans. He released my hands to grip my thighs, pulling me harder onto him, pace quickening: long, deep strokes that built a fire in my core, making my breath hitch, my skin flush. His face hovered inches from mine—smirk gone now, replaced by raw intensity, brows drawn together in focus, a low growl escaping his throat as pleasure coiled tighter for us both.
The room spun with it—the pain fading into ecstasy, confusion drowning in the overwhelming heat. He drove deeper, faster, claiming every inch until I shattered around him, a muffled cry escaping despite everything. He followed soon after, burying himself with a final, shuddering thrust, spilling hot inside me—his expression one of triumphant release, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open on a silent gasp.
We lay there after, breaths syncing in the quiet, his weight a strangely comforting anchor. That smirk returned as he pulled back slightly, brushing a thumb over my cheek.
"See?" he whispered, voice laced with satisfaction. "The great idea works perfectly."