Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel

Chapter 532: Apollo & Sprite Of Chasity Virtue

A long time after, Alfred slipped into the hidden room, a small, dusty storeroom located outside the Diligence family compound. His face was lit with excitement, a stark contrast to the dimly lit space around him.

The room smelled of old wood and musty fabric, with crates and barrels stacked haphazardly against the walls.

Waiting for him inside was the dwarf, who had a nervous yet eager expression on his face. Next to him stood a man in clerical robes, a solemn figure with a stern, morally upright demeanor. This cleric, despite his austere appearance, wore a mischievous smile as Alfred entered the room. He, too, had his own hidden ambitions.

Alfred wasted no time. "Is what I read in the book true?" he demanded, his voice urgent.

The cleric nodded, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "Yes, that slave girl young master Eunid purchased at a high sum is the one with the Cauldron body and spirit, a cultivation child of the heavens."

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Alfred’s face. "For this information, you will be heavily rewarded," he promised. He took a step closer to the cleric, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "However, let me ask you something for an extra reward."

The cleric’s mischievous smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of cautious curiosity. "What is it, master Alfred?"

"Aside from us here and Eunid, is there anyone else with this knowledge?" Alfred asked, his eyes boring into the cleric’s.

The cleric shook his head confidently. "No one, master Alfred."

"Are you sure? You can tell me," Alfred said, moving closer as if to embrace the cleric.

The cleric thought hard, his brow furrowing in concentration before he shook his head again. "I have told no one else of this. I was the one that conducted the exam. Except for old Fang and young master Eunid, no one knows about it."@@@@

Alfred nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He leaned in close, his voice a whisper. "May the goddess reward your contribution to the family."

In a swift, fluid motion, the sound of a blade tearing through flesh echoed in the small room. The cleric’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Before he could utter a word, Alfred moved his blade again, cutting the man in two. Each half of the cleric’s body fell to the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling on the dusty floor.

"I’ll be with you shortly, dear sister," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on Sprite’s head. The touch made her smile, a fleeting moment of happiness in her otherwise troubled state. Despite all the resources and power of the Holy Church, her condition remained a mystery that even their greatest clerics couldn’t cure.

Apollo turned and walked back towards the main house, a grand structure that stood as a testament to the Chastity family’s wealth and influence.

The mansion was an architectural marvel, with towering columns and intricate stone carvings that depicted scenes of virtue, grace and a fight against the sin of Lust.

The windows were tall and arched, allowing streams of light to filter through stained glass and cast colorful patterns on the marble floors inside.

As he made his way through the corridors, numerous maids greeted him with bows and smiles. Apollo acknowledged each with a nod or a gentle smile, maintaining his composed and graceful demeanor.

Finally, he reached his room, a private sanctuary within the vast mansion. The moment he entered, he slammed the door shut behind him. The air inside was thick with a strange tension, a stark contrast to the serene garden he had just left. He rushed to his bed, where a handkerchief lay, seemingly innocent.

A sick smile twisted Apollo’s lips as he hurriedly undressed, leaving his clothes in a haphazard pile on the floor. He clambered onto the bed, his eyes fixated on the handkerchief. "My dear Eunid flower, did you miss me? I missed you too," he whispered, his voice tinged with a disturbing mix of longing and obsession.

The handkerchief was a simple piece of cloth, but to Apollo, it was a treasure.

It was the very one Eunid had used to blow his nose the last time he visited during a gathering of sorts, irritated by a certain flower in the garden.

Apollo brought the handkerchief to his nose, inhaling deeply, as if it carried the essence of Eunid himself.

As he sniffed the handkerchief, Apollo began to touch himself, his movements frantic and desperate.

He called out Eunid’s name repeatedly, his voice a twisted echo of the deep-seated infatuation he harbored. It was a grotesque display of his obsession, a sick and twisted ritual that he performed with fervent intensity.

The once serene and composed young master was now a figure of disturbing desire, lost in his perverse fantasy as he stroked his manhood, even biting the handkerchief in the enjoyment of his longing...