Chapter 840 - 839- Follow me there

Chapter 840: Chapter 839- Follow me there

The smirk in my mind was a quiet thing. Private. The kind of expression that lived behind the eyes and never reached the mouth. I let it sit there while my gaze drifted down to Seraphina’s hand.

Two fingers. Coated. Soaked, actually. The white fluid, thick and unmistakable, dripped from her fingertips in a slow, obscene thread that stretched toward the floor. She stood there, frozen, her arm half-extended, her fingers glistening with my seed. The seed I had pumped into the dark elf not twenty minutes ago in the carriage. The seed that was now, thanks to her own invasive inspection, smeared across her skin like evidence at a crime scene.

Her face. God, her face. The color that flooded her cheeks was not the flush of arousal or even the flush of anger. It was the flush of a woman caught red-handed. A thief with her fingers in the cookie jar, except the cookie jar was another woman’s pussy and the cookies were her professor’s cum.

’How dare you,’ I thought, ’insert your fingers in the pussy that belongs to me.’

I chuckled. The sound was low, barely audible, but Seraphina heard it. Her blue eyes, already wide with shock and fury, snapped to mine. The flustered reaction, the red-faced embarrassment of a woman who had just been caught with another woman’s fluids on her hand, was delicious.

I tilted my head. The gesture was small. Casual. The kind of motion that a man makes when he is considering something. When he is amused. When he is about to do something that will make everything worse.

Behind the mask, I reached out. Not with my hands. With my mind. The telekinesis, a skill I had picked up from the mirror world, was subtle. A whisper of mana, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. The thread connected me to the dark elf, to the slave collar, to the conditioning that I had spent hours embedding in her psyche.

’Now,’ I thought.

The dark elf burst into tears.

Not the quiet, dignified tears of a woman in distress. The loud, heaving, body-shaking sobs of a woman who had been broken and was now performing the break for an audience. Her green eyes, already wet, flooded. Her mouth, opening wide, produced a sound that was half-wail and half-scream.

"Master!" she cried. Her voice, raw and desperate, echoed through the small room. "She is bullying me! She said she hates half-breed races! She put her fingers inside me! She hit me!"

The performance was magnificent. The tears, the sobs, the trembling. Every detail was calibrated for maximum sympathy. The dark elf, who had been fighting and cursing and clawing minutes ago, was now a fragile, broken creature who needed protection. The transformation was so complete that even I was impressed.

Seraphina’s face went through three expressions in two seconds. Shock. Confusion. Outrage.

"What?" she said. Her voice, high and sharp, cracked on the word. "What are you saying? How dare you..."

She reached for the dark elf. Her hand, the same hand that was still wet with my seed, grabbed for the slave’s wrist. The motion was aggressive. Instinctive. The grab of a woman who wanted to silence the source of the accusations.

The dark elf fell. Her body, going limp, crumpled to the floor. The fall was theatrical. The kind of fall that looked worse than it was. She crumpled like she was made of glass, her body folding, her hands covering her face, her sobs intensifying.

"Now you are even hitting someone in front of me," I said. My voice was calm. Conversational. The voice of a man who had just witnessed an assault and was documenting it for future reference.

Seraphina, her hand still extended, froze. The realization, the understanding that she had just been seen grabbing a slave in front of a faculty member, hit her like cold water.

"Who are you to tell me?" she said. Her voice, recovering its sharpness, was the voice of a woman falling back on the only defense she knew. Authority. Position. Family. "I am Seraphina Voss. Daughter of Baron Voss. My family has served the academy for three generations. I am the president of the women’s section of Class A. You cannot..."

I already knew. The information, gathered through Johana’s intelligence network and my own research, was filed in my mind. The Voss family. The baron whose territory bordered the dark elf lands. The father who had been killed by raiders. The daughter who had channeled her grief into hatred and her hatred into power.

I smirked. The expression, behind the mask, was invisible. But the eyes, the violet glow, crinkled.

"Then I am the professor of Class A," I said.

The words landed like a hammer on glass.

Seraphina’s face, which had been flushed with anger, went white. The color, draining from her cheeks, was the color of a woman who had just realized that the man she was arguing with was not a visitor or a student or a random nobleman. He was her professor. Her superior. The man who would be grading her, evaluating her, determining her future at the academy.

The dark elf, on the floor, continued to sob. The performance, maintained with admirable dedication, was the backdrop to Seraphina’s collapse.

"I..." Seraphina started. Her mouth, opening and closing, produced fragments. "I did not... I apologize... I..."

She bowed. The motion, deep and sudden, was the bow of a woman who had been trained in etiquette and was now, in a moment of panic, falling back on the oldest reflex in the noble playbook. When in doubt, bow. When threatened, submit. When cornered, apologize.

"I apologize, professor," she said. Her voice, stripped of its arrogance, was small. "I did not know. I did not recognize you. Please forgive my conduct."

I looked at her. At the bowed head. At the blonde hair, falling forward, revealing the nape of her neck. At the hands, clasped in front of her, one of which was still wet with my seed. At the uniform, pristine and pressed, that concealed the body of a woman who had just been brought to her knees.

"I will make sure to send a letter to your family," I said. The words, quiet and deliberate, were a sentence. Not a threat. A statement of fact. "The Voss family. Baron Voss. I am certain he would be interested to know that his daughter, the president of the women’s section, has been conducting unauthorized inspections of new students. Inserting her fingers into their bodies. Striking them when they protest."

Seraphina’s head snapped up. Her blue eyes, wide and terrified, found mine.

"No," she said. The word, barely a whisper, was the word of a woman who had just been told her world was ending. "Please. Not my father. His reputation. The family name. If he receives a letter like that, if the academy sends an official complaint..."

"I do not care," I said. The words, flat and final, closed the discussion.

I turned. The motion, deliberate and unhurried, was the motion of a man who had delivered his verdict and was now walking away. The dark elf, on the floor, looked up. Her green eyes, still wet with tears, found mine. The performance, still running, flickered.

"Get up and follow," I said. The words, directed at the slave, were casual. The tone of a man calling his dog.