"…Huh?"
Charlotte gaped at him.
My clothes?
It was just a long-sleeved, full-body diving suit—modest to the core.
Why did he talk like I'd walked around naked?
"Alright, I'm off," the blue-haired guy said.
"We're wasting time. If we're slow, someone else will snatch that airship first. Noah, take her back to her tent."
He waved and left.
Leaving her alone.
With him.
Charlotte stole a shy glance at Noah's sharp, handsome face.
The more she remembered the fact that he'd undressed her earlier, the hotter her cheeks burned.
Had he been alone with her when he changed her clothes?
Or was that blue-haired motor-mouth there too?
Did… anyone else see her body?
And other than changing her clothes—
Did he do anything weird to her?
By the time her brain reached that point, her face felt like it was about to explode.
She lowered her gaze, unable to meet the golden eyes staring at her.
"Uh…"
She scrambled for something—anything—to break the awkward silence.
"Let's go," Noah said.
"Eh? Go where?"
"To your tent. Can you stand on your own, or do I have to carry you?"
"H–Huh? N-No, I can walk. I think."
She stood up too fast, got dizzy, and collapsed back onto the bed.
"…Troublesome," Noah muttered.
Before she could protest, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder.
"W–Wait! Put me down!" Charlotte squeaked, mortified.
His hand was gripping her bare thigh.
His shoulder—and chest—were firm and warm against her stomach.
She remembered she wasn't wearing underwear.
Great.
Fantastic.
Kill me now.
"Nnh—! Stop moving," Noah scolded.
SMACK.
He slapped her thigh.
Charlotte froze.
Not out of pain—
But pure, primal fear of getting slapped again.
Thank god he only hit my thigh. If he'd slapped my butt I would've died on the spot.
She bit her lip, humiliated to her core.
She—Charlotte Hawthorne, beloved only daughter of a top-10 billionaire—
Had never been treated like this in her entire life.
People usually kept their distance.
Respected her.
Feared offending her.
But this man had:
blown her up
torn her clothes
changed her into his shirt
carried her over his shoulder
hit her thigh
and was now hauling her around like a potato sack
She would remember his face until the day she died.
"Ah…"
Charlotte's jaw dropped as they emerged outside.
Cool sea wind brushed her skin and whipped her hair back.
A breathtaking landscape opened before her—
Rugged mountain cliffs overlooking a deep, mysterious sea.
Quiet.
Beautiful.
Not anywhere she'd ever been.
And definitely not the Maldives.
Is this a dream?
She focused, analyzing the sensations.
As a lucid dreamer, she knew when she was dreaming.
But…
Everything felt too real.
The faint tremor of Noah's footsteps.
The warmth of his hand on her thigh.
The cold sea breeze chilling her scalp.
The sound of waves and seabirds.
Even the smell of saltwater.
Realer than real.
Did I… transmigrate?
Excitement shot through her.
She loved isekai manga.
This was either:
a dream
another world
She preferred the latter.
Noah carried her down a rugged path along the mountainside as if she weighed nothing.
One slip and she'd fall straight into the dark sea below.
Terrified, she clung to his clothes.
He sighed, shaking his head.
They reached a clearing with several tents.
He set her down on a bed in one of them and turned to leave.
"W-Wait! You're leaving already?" she called.
"Mm."
He nodded and walked out.
"Wait—AHH!"
She tried to get up—
—and was tackled back onto the bed.
A warm body hugged her.
Someone was trembling against her.
Possibly crying.
"M-Milady…"
A soft, gentle voice.
A boy.
Charlotte blinked.
What… the hell now?
She tried pushing him off—
But then she saw his face.
And froze.
Tiger ears.
Soft, fluffy, golden tiger ears.
Attached to a cute boy who looked about her age—maybe younger.
Short blonde hair.
Soft lavender eyes.
White, flawless skin.
Pink lips.
He looked like a walking shoujo-manga love interest.
"Milady… I'm sorry," he whimpered.
"I forgot you don't like it when I'm on top…"
He climbed off her and sat on the floor beside her bed, ears drooping.
Behind him, a fluffy golden tail swayed.
Okay.
What.
The actual hell.
After a moment, she managed to ask,
"Um… what's your name?"
He looked wounded.
"M-Milady… you don't remember me?"
Charlotte rubbed her forehead.
Oh great. Another crisis.
His trembling lips and teary eyes were killing her—she almost reached out to wipe his tears out of instinct.
But no.
Touching him was dangerous.
He was still a man.
A strong one.
He'd nearly crushed her earlier with that hug.
"I'm Belle," he whispered. "Your slave."
"…Slave?"
"Yes."
Oh boy.
Everybody thinks I'm Eden.
So this boy is Eden's slave?
"Am I… Eden?" she asked.
"And you're my slave. What about Noah? Is he a slave too? Of the blue-haired guy?"
"Oh—Hugo? No," Belle said. "They're friends."
"Huh. So I'm the only one with slaves? Must mean I'm richer."
Belle hesitated.
"Well… they're just as wealthy as you, Milady. They choose not to have slaves."
"Oh."
"Then why do I have them?"
Belle blushed so hard his ears twitched.
"Because… you enjoy being served," he whispered.
"I mean… intimately."
Charlotte blinked.
"Intimately… as in…?"
He reddened even more.
"Making you feel good… with our bodies."
Charlotte's soul left her body.
He kept going.
"Sometimes you call one of us… sometimes two… sometimes all three at once…"
Charlotte slapped a hand over her chest.
"D-Degenerate," she whispered, horrified.
Belle nodded.
"Y-Yes… you were quite intense, Milady."