Chapter 48: If You Can Satisfy Me
Cynthia’s bedroom was bathed in pale purple magical light, moonlight filtering through gauze curtains to cast dappled patterns on the carpet.
Shion stood beside the four-poster bed, gazing at the sleeping saint.
Under the velvet covers, Cynthia’s red hair spread like flowing molten flame, with a few strands still clinging to her flushed cheeks.
Her breathing was steady and deep, her lashes occasionally fluttering, her lips curved in a satisfied smile—clearly, this “mental soothing” session had exceeded expectations.
The two still hadn’t crossed the final line, only literally rolling around in bed sheets without any substantial breakthrough.
Shion breathed a sigh of relief, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the bite mark on his collarbone.
Three hours ago, when Cynthia’s eyes had completely turned pink heart-shaped, that proud saint had become a beast driven purely by instinct.
She had explored his body like studying some novel toy, her nails leaving winding red marks on his back, her canines repeatedly grinding against his Adam’s apple, while Shion could only lie there rigidly, not daring to move even a finger—until she actively guided his hands.
The magical crystal lamp at the bedside suddenly flickered, revealing Cynthia’s bare shoulder, which still bore several damp finger marks—evidence of Shion’s momentary loss of control.
Shion still clearly remembered the sensation when his palm finally touched that delicate skin—like grasping a handful of melting first snow, gradually becoming scorching hot.
The hoarse gasps in his memory made Shion’s throat tighten.
He would never forget how Cynthia looked at her peak: her swan-like neck arched back in a breathtaking curve, her toes curled, gripping the sheets, her whole body trembling taut like a drawn bow—then suddenly going limp, melting like spring water.
“Is this what they call mutual benefit?”
Shion smiled bitterly and shook his head, gently tucking the covers around Cynthia.
Her sleeping face was impossibly pure, showing no trace of her earlier wildness.
Only the disheveled bed, wrinkled uniforms scattered everywhere, and the lingering scent of orange blossom mixed with desire in the air proved the passion that had just occurred.
Just as he turned to leave, the holy mark on his chest suddenly grew hot—this was the mark Heralys had privately carved for easier communication between them.
Shion looked alertly toward the bed—Cynthia only turned over, burying her face in the fluffy down pillow and continuing to sleep.
He tiptoed back to his room before daring to accept the communication.
Heralys’s phantom immediately appeared in the air. She wore a semi-transparent nightgown, her golden curls still entwined with wisps of undissipated steam, clearly having just bathed.
“Shion, are you incubating eggs?”
The saint in the phantom rested her chin on her folding fan with boredom.
“I waited until the roses withered three times over.”
“Didn’t you hold up three fingers to mean I should come find you at three o’clock?”
Shion was startled and repeated Heralys’s earlier gesture.
“That meant at least three hours with me!”
Heralys tapped the air with her fan in annoyance.
“Or maybe our Shion’s understanding is all focused on how to please Cynthia?”
This comment made Shion’s ears burn, but more than that, he felt helpless. How was anyone supposed to guess that meaning?
“Is Cynthia asleep?”
Heralys suddenly leaned closer, her nose almost penetrating the phantom.
“Just fell asleep.”
Shion nodded.
“Seems our saint enjoyed her feast thoroughly…”
Heralys wore a mischievous smile.
“It was just routine mental soothing.”
Shion reflexively defended himself, but saw her fingertip tracing the barely visible scratch marks at his collar.
“I’m too lazy to waste words with you. Since Cynthia’s asleep, hurry over. I’m getting a bit impatient.”
Heralys waved her hand somewhat impatiently.
“Er… that might be a bit inconvenient right now.”
Shion looked troubled.
“During the test, I had you secretly cover for me. I was wind-blown and sun-beaten on that mountain for two whole hours. You’re not thinking of backing out now, are you?”
Heralys’s smile suddenly turned dangerously narrow.
“I’m not trying to back out…”
Shion’s face paled somewhat, then he changed the subject.
“I’m just simply afraid of dying.”
“Are you afraid I’ll eat you?”
Heralys laughed at this, her slender fingers twirling a lock of golden hair. She leaned lazily against the carved chair back, moonlight filtering through the window lattice to cast delicate light spots on her collarbone.
“Don’t worry, I still understand the concept of taking things slow.”
“I’m not afraid of you, but of someone else.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“The Shadow-Eroding Saint, Skadi.”
“Where did you hear that name?”
Heralys’s expression instantly became grave.
Shion took a deep breath and recounted that night’s experience—how the moonlit scythe had grazed his ear, the demonic aura emanating from the black-robed girl, that bone-chilling laugh, and how he had narrowly escaped.
“I didn’t expect she saw us then…”
Heralys’s previously casual expression gradually froze. Her nails dug deep into her palm, her knuckles turning pale.
“About Skadi—”
Shion had just begun to speak when Heralys suddenly interrupted.
“Let’s discuss this in person. I’ll come get you.”

In the deep of night, Shion quietly pushed open his room’s carved wooden door.
The grandfather clock at the end of the corridor pointed to one o’clock, its gear movements particularly clear in the silence. He pressed against the wall, each step carefully avoiding the floorboards that would creak, afraid of waking the sleeping saint.
The meeting place was at the fountain in the back garden of Cynthia’s residence. Shion had just turned the last corner when he caught that familiar fragrance.
Under the moonlight, Heralys leaned against the edge of the mottled marble fountain, her slender fingers playing with a folding fan.
“Such punctuality is truly touching.”
She lazily straightened up, the silver thread patterns on her white nightgown glittering like a galaxy under the moonlight. Before Shion could respond, her fingers lightly snapped, magical array patterns appeared on the ground, and they disappeared in a flash of light. When they opened their eyes again, they were elsewhere.
Heralys’s residence was unexpectedly elegant, with ivory-white four-poster bed draped in gauze curtains and various crystal bottles scattered on the vanity.
“Now you can answer my question. What exactly is Skadi’s situation? There shouldn’t be anyone like her among the twelve saints—”
“Shh—”
Shion eagerly turned to ask about Skadi, but Heralys pressed a slender finger to his lips. The next second, he was pushed down onto the soft down comforter.
He had just propped up his upper body when Heralys was already straddling his waist.
She removed her hairpin, golden hair cascading down like a waterfall, the ends sweeping across Shion’s cheek with the fragrance of rosemary.
“If you can satisfy me—”
Heralys methodically undid the pearl buttons at her chest, the silk nightgown sliding off her shoulders. Her nails lightly traced Shion’s collarbone, leaving a fleeting red mark.
“I’ll tell you everything I know~”