"Nah. Not feeling it."
Kaizen didn't even lift his head.
He just kept his foot planted deep in the Elf's cleavage, scissoring her nipple between his big toe and the second one like he was trying to tune a stubborn radio station.
"Mmmh~!"
The Elf let out a strangled noise, half-moan, half-whimper, her face burning so hot you could fry an egg on it.
Seraphina stood there, brain buffering. She blinked.
'What?'
'Did he just say no?'
'Isn't this the part where the Hero jumps up, grabs his sword, and screams "Justice!"?'
'Arthur would have been halfway to the stables by now.'
"But... Sir Kaizen! A life is at stake! My Arthur is—"
Her eyes drifted down. Big mistake.
She saw the foot. She saw the toes working overtime on the poor maid's chest. And then, just to the left of the foot, she saw It.
Because Kaizen was so relaxed, and because his "excitement" had returned with a vengeance the moment she walked in, the sash of his bathrobe had given up the ghost.
