This was one of those times where Lucius cursed having a hot body.
What were the chances of finding a gay man all the way in a romance fantasy world?
Out of all the possible outcomes of this trip, he had never once considered being ogled in the bathhouse by a noble heir who apparently had no sense of shame.
The blond intruder’s face flushed red as soon as his eyes landed on him.
The guy’s lips trembled, betraying the thoughts he desperately tried to keep hidden.
Then he took a step back, attempting to hide it — but they had all seen it.
Lucius swore he caught Vanessa’s face twist in disgust, her usually calm demeanor cracking with sharp contempt.
But she wasn’t even the one he was worried about.
No — his real concern was Rita.
Her perverted grin, the one that usually made Lucius’s skin crawl and his spine tighten with dread, was gone.
Completely.
Her face scrunched, her nostrils flared, and her eyes turned bloodshot. The playful spark that she always carried in her gaze had been replaced with raw fury.
Lucius’s stomach sank.
He knew why.
Rita wasn’t merely perverted — she was a psychopath. A woman with twisted obsessions and deranged tastes, yes, but also someone with very particular triggers.
And there was nothing she hated more than seeing an unwanted erection.
He didn’t know what exactly she did with her victims afterward — though reader rumors and author’s notes had painted disturbing possibilities but he knew one thing with certainty: that blond noble wasn’t getting home safe tonight.
The man had unknowingly signed his death sentence.
She would do something to him — something only she could imagine and he would never again see the light of day.
Perhaps that was part of the reason why she had been so fixated on the original main character: because he had resisted her advances. He hadn’t "fallen" to her at first sight, hadn’t been swayed by her tricks.
She had found that irresistible.
The Saintess was complicated.
Horrifyingly complicated.
"Uhm..." The blond cleared his throat, desperately trying to gather his composure, his earlier excitement betraying him in the most humiliating way possible.
He adjusted his towel with a sharp tug, his voice shaking. "My name is Jose Josephe, the heir of the Josephe clan and—"
"Please cut the crap," Vanessa snapped before he could finish.
She took a step forward, her towel clutched tightly against her chest like a lifeline.
Her voice, though flustered, rang with the kind of authority only an Awakener born to power could carry. "I rented this whole place out today. How dare you barge in without permission?"
Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose.
’I swear, it’s the same with these nobles,’ he thought bitterly. ’This entire situation could’ve been avoided by just respecting personal rights. But no — they always have to go out of their way to make a scene. Still... not that it really bothers me.’
Jose looked down, cheeks burning, but he kept his composure better than Lucius expected.
"My apologies," he said smoothly, bowing slightly, though his eyes lingered far too long on Lucius’s shoulders. "I was simply... excited. I heard Sir Lucius von Hohenb—"
"Not interested," Lucius cut him off with a heavy sigh.
The last thing he wanted was to get tangled in something like this.
Being gay wasn’t the issue — Lucius wasn’t narrow-minded enough to hate someone for their orientation except 2030 women of course, they were the exception.
Everyone had their own choices.
But he had boundaries.
Firm ones.
And one of them was that men like Jose needed to stay at least ten meters away from him at all times.
"I really just want to relax today," Lucius added, waving his hand. "Chat me up later, if you must."
With that simple gesture, space itself folded.
Jose vanished from the room with a snap and reappeared outside the resort doors, stumbling in confusion.
Lucius exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Haah... That’s a very convenient ability."
Rita’s lips curved into a smile once more.
The bloodshot fury in her gaze softened back into her familiar tone, mocking with mischief.
Her teasing tone returned as though nothing had happened. "I know, right? I’m tempted to ask you to use it on me."
Lucius cracked his knuckles and gave her a flat look. "Don’t tempt me. I really might. Though knowing you, you’d dodge it."
It was true.
Space, for all its versatility, still required precision and a few seconds.
Even with his Divine-grade control, the act of disassembling matter and reassembling it across dimensions took a fraction of a second — enough time for someone of Rita’s caliber to react.
’S-Ranks are too damn overpowered,’ he thought grimly.
"Come now~" Rita tilted her head, her damp hair sticking to her skin in a way that looked almost intentional. "Just teleport us to a room already. Save us the waiting."
Her voice was dripping with innuendo, her smile sharp and hungry.
"Uhm..." Vanessa’s soft voice broke in suddenly.
Both Lucius and Rita turned to her.
And froze.
The towel Vanessa had been clutching had slipped from her trembling hands, pooling at her feet.
Her delicate frame, pale and flawless, was now exposed under the soft glow of the bathhouse lanterns.
Her jewels — everything was in full view.
Lucius’s brain stalled.
His eyes widened, and before he could even fully register what he was seeing, a brilliant flash of purple light erupted.
It struck him square in the chest.
"—Guh!"
The impact tore the air from his lungs. He was hurled backward like a ragdoll, slamming into the marble wall with a resounding crack.
Pain exploded through his ribs as he slid down, coughing violently, spittle flying from his mouth.
The room erupted into chaos.
The other women screamed in alarm.
Rita’s laughter echoed like a whip crack, it was sharp and merciless.
Vanessa’s face burned crimson as she hastily bent down to snatch up her towel again, eyes darting everywhere but Lucius.
Lucius groaned, clutching his chest. His lungs screamed for air, and his ribs felt like shattered glass grinding together.
’I hate S-Ranks,’ he thought darkly, struggling to suppress the bile rising in his throat.
His vision swam, but he still caught the outline of Rita leaning over him, her expression a perfect storm of mockery and unrestrained amusement.
"Well well~" she purred. "That’s what you get for peeking. Naughty, naughty, Sir Lucius."