“Did you see that book?”
Still lounging idly with her legs crossed on the armchair in Huayin’s room, Ange no longer looked anything like a teacher—let alone the so-called dignity of the First Demon Hunter.
“Which book are you talking about?”
Turning her head toward the bookshelf, Ange seemed rather unwilling to face that book.
“‘The First Demon Hunter.’ Did you think I left it there by accident?”
Huayin sat on the edge of the bed, her little feet in slippers swinging impatiently.
Ange’s gaze shifted, inevitably landing once again on that book she truly didn’t want to face.
The First Demon Hunter. Well, she hadn’t always been the so-called “first” anyway.
For example, right now, she certainly wasn’t the First anymore—at least not on the surface.
Ange pondered this, not even realizing how far she’d gone in avoiding the subject.
“I know who you are, Angelina—once known as Ange, the First Demon Hunter, sir.”
“So you know…”
“Don’t you think you’ve fallen a bit too far?”
“Fallen…”
How exactly had she fallen? She’d just found an easy job, drawing a salary that wasn’t even that high, right?
She never visited the Red-Light District or hired girls to serve her, and she was always careful with her money.
So how was she fallen?
“I haven’t fallen. I just… can’t help myself…”
She said that, but Ange’s slightly evasive gaze made it clear her words were not so firm.
“Can’t help yourself? What about your willpower? The hero who once faced dozens of Demons alone and saved the citizens—where has she gone?”
“I…”
Ange was a bit agitated.
She was torn: one part wanted to shed her past glory and achievements—she felt unworthy of them now.
Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t help but maintain that image.
Maybe she missed it. Maybe she simply couldn’t let go.
“The Curse isn’t on you, the Magic Mark isn’t on you. I’ve already done everything I can to resist it. To avoid affecting others, I moved here.”
“I was afraid that if the Magic Mark acted up during a mission, I’d drag others down, so I resigned—retired. Do you think I like this life of barely scraping by? I…”
Ange thought for a moment and, in the end, simply stopped talking herself.
Yes, what good would it do telling Huayin this?
Huayin couldn’t help her or change anything.
Even with her impressive background and family, she couldn’t turn Ange back into a man or erase the Magic Mark.
“You! Ugh!”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
Huayin let out a strange little whimper. Ange turned her chair, not quite catching on to what she was up to.
Only when Huayin began taking off her pants did Ange finally realize—she was about to give birth.
“You’re about to—?!”
“Shut up! It’s coming!”
“Don’t—don’t do it facing me! Turn your butt to the wall or something!”
Ange clapped both hands over her eyes, but her fingers wouldn’t obey, always leaving a gap to peek through.
People always assumed a big shot like the First Demon Hunter was some kind of lady-killer, that there was no way she was still a virgin.
But in truth, ever since becoming a Demon Hunter, Ange had devoted herself to slaying Demons.
Even before that, all she’d ever wanted was to become a Demon Hunter.
In short, she was absolutely, undeniably a virgin. The only “girlfriend” she’d ever had was her own hand.
She’d barely ever even held a girl’s hand—let alone seen such private parts with her own eyes.
She stared at Huayin’s nest, clearly knowing she should look away at once, but her eyes felt bewitched.
She turned the armchair, clamped her thighs tightly around the backrest, and it didn’t stop there—she even shifted herself until the backrest pressed right between her legs.
“You bastard! Look! Look at what you’ve done! Tch! It’s all your fault! It would’ve only been the size of a quail egg! But because of you—ugh—because of you, it’s the size of a chicken egg now! Tch! It hurts so much!”
“You—you—then stop facing me! At least turn to the wall or something! Does it matter if I see or not?!”
“I don’t care! You have to watch!”
“Fine! Fine! I’m watching!”
Watching… watching… and…
Clenching… her legs…
Ange finally realized she was unconsciously squeezing her legs together, the chair’s backrest nearly getting crushed by her thighs.
She knew she was doing something filthy, but to her surprise, she found she couldn’t stop.
For the first time, she realized that ever since she got the Magic Mark, every time she “released,” it had been mechanical—just another job.
But this time was completely different. Gasping for breath, her cheeks quickly flushed.
Her whole body was hypersensitive—just rubbing against the chair’s backrest sent waves of stimulation.
“Ugh, ugh! Ugh!”
“Are you constipated, Huayin?”
“Constipated, my ass! It hurts so much! I’m—ugh, huhuhu!”
Ange’s pupils turned heart-shaped. She couldn’t hold back any longer—her hand slid between her legs. She just couldn’t help it…