More than ten minutes later, after exhausting every ounce of eloquence and scheming to cover his tracks, the Deceiver—so drenched in sweat he looked like he'd been hauled out of the sea—finally managed to muddle through Skadi's impromptu inspection. Still jumpy, he pressed himself against the wall and crept back toward the flagship.
But the instant he pushed the door open and slipped inside, the sight that greeted him made his heart stop.
"Oh? You're back?"
A lazy voice tinged with a faint nasal drawl drifted from the dim interior. The graceful figure on the bed straightened slightly, and the silk quilt slid down. A cascade of purple hair spilled like a waterfall over shoulders sculpted like ice, some strands falling across her chest, half-concealing the rising curves beneath.
"Ahem… You're awake already? Not going back to sleep?"
At the doorway, Samael quietly withdrew the claw that had been resting on the doorknob, turning aside and clearing his throat as he forced himself to sound calm.
The Queen of the Land of Shadows glanced behind her, then stretched lazily and stepped barefoot from the bed, amusement flickering across her face.
"So, you've figured it out? My friend, Samael…"
"S-sorry, I… I…"
With the truth laid bare and no room left to maneuver, Samael flushed with embarrassment and guilt, unable to meet the eyes of this close companion.
"I slept quite well last night."
"Huh?"
"So there's no need for you to feel guilty. Or ashamed."
"…."
In the strange silence that followed, Scáthach flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders, her slender frame loosening with a series of crisp pops from her joints.
"What's wrong? You look surprised."
The Queen of the Land of Shadows turned her head, calmly studying the stunned man before her.
"Your reaction… it's too calm. Too forgiving. I thought…"
Samael came back to himself as if jolted awake, offering a bitter smile before his words trailed off.
"You thought I'd cower like some ordinary woman? Hide in a corner trembling like a helpless lamb?
Or cry and accuse you, playing the victim to demand comfort and compensation?
Or rage around looking for a weapon, plotting how to kill you to wash away my humiliation?"
Scáthach moved toward him with the measured elegance of a lioness surveying her territory, pressing the flustered serpent back into a corner. Her dark brows lifted slightly, her lips curving in a faint, knowing smile.
For a moment, the Queen of the Land of Shadows had completely seized the initiative. Samael looked almost like the one who had been ravaged the night before.
Avoiding the alluring sight swaying before his eyes, Samael coughed softly and replied with careful respect.
"Your Majesty, your magnanimity and clarity of mind truly command my admiration."
"You weren't aware of the truth. I was the one determined to win my wager with Skadi and deliberately chose to conceal it. It was merely an unexpected turn within a planned game. What's done is done. Why shift the responsibility onto someone else?"
After a brief pause, Scáthach smiled faintly and laid a hand on Samael's shoulder, pride evident in her expression.
"Besides, if I had truly wished to resist, you wouldn't have even touched my bed last night."
"You…"
Samael blinked, surprise flashing across his face—followed almost immediately by the instinctive, irrepressible satisfaction of a male who had just heard something very important.
"I simply dislike losing. That's all. Understand?"
Scáthach cast him a sidelong glance and effortlessly extinguished whatever fantasies had begun forming in his mind.
Her gaze was calm and sharp, like the edge of a spear.
"My friend, I admire your ability and your skill. Don't let something so trivial interfere with our relationship."
"Of course. I've always regarded you as a confidant I can entrust my back to. That bond won't sour over something like this."
Samael declared solemnly. Yet when Scáthach turned, the proud curve of her chest briefly coming into view, his gaze flickered despite himself.
The Queen of the Land of Shadows seemed pleased, a trace of approval in her eyes. She casually took down a simple purple gown and a finely crafted silver crown from the rack and began dressing in front of him without the slightest hesitation.
Samael turned his back and shut his eyes out of principle.
But the faint rustle of fabric brushing against skin drifted into his ears, and a restless agitation clawed at his chest.
Behind his closed eyelids, the lingering images of the previous night refused to fade, replaying over and over in vivid fragments.
As the "older sister," Scáthach didn't seem unreasonable at all.
Well… judging purely by development…
At last, the torment of each second dragging like a year neared its end. Scáthach finally slipped into the more intricate, lavish dress, hiding away the "springtime" that had filled the room.
"Your Majesty, you've already won this wager. So what now? Will you return to your original identity, or keep up this role-playing?"
The outcome had gone far better than Samael expected, leaving him noticeably lighter. As he pulled the door open, he asked the question almost casually.
"I like to finish what I start. Besides, chances like this are rare… a chance to set down the burden, leave the Land of Shadows, and experience someone else's life."
Scáthach closed her eyes and let the sea breeze wash over her. A faint, composed smile rested at the corner of her lips, softening her usual cold pride and making her seem, for once, easier to approach.
"Fair enough. Just don't let last night slip out in front of Skadi."
Samael nodded, not forgetting the reminder.
"My friend, I think you've misunderstood one thing."
Standing in the wind, Scáthach opened her eyes and turned her head, her expression hovering between amusement and mockery.
"I have no reason to hold you accountable, true. But I also have no obligation to cover for you.
If my dear little sister Skadi asks, I will tell her exactly what happened."
Thud!
Samael lurched and nearly fell over. Any fleeting delight at having escaped consequences evaporated on the spot.
His emotions whiplashed. He immediately grabbed Scáthach by the arm, face twisted in misery, eyes full of accusation.
"Old friend, if Skadi finds out, she'll skin me, pull out my tendons, and freeze me into a platter of raw snake slices!"
"Raw snake slices…"
The Queen of the Land of Shadows pondered for a moment, her expression turning solemn as if she'd grasped the seriousness of the matter. Then she asked the question that made Samael's heart seize.
"…Are they good?"
"Your Majesty, is that really the point?! People die!"
Samael choked, his voice shooting up an octave as he nearly lost it.
"And what does that have to do with me?"
Scáthach tilted her head, still wearing that same careless look, that same not-quite-smile.
"…."
Samael had nothing. His face twitched violently while his thoughts screamed.
So much for not holding grudges. So much for not taking revenge. So you were just digging a pit and waiting for me to jump in.
Women's words really are…
In the end, the Ancient Serpent slumped and raised both hands in surrender, wearing a funeral expression.
"Your Majesty, what do I have to do for you to help me? Give me a way out. I don't want to get chased across a thousand miles by Skadi before I even reach Greece!"
Scáthach smiled faintly. She extended her pale arms, curled her fingers—and two crimson demonic spears studded with sharp barbs appeared in her hands.
"It's been a long time since we sparred. Fight me. If you win, I'll help you."
The Queen of the Land of Shadows stepped forward at an unhurried pace, looking down at the visitor to her demonic realm—the only opponent in a thousand years who could truly trade blows with her in spear technique. Her pink tongue flicked over her lips, and her crimson eyes overflowed with feverish anticipation.
"Do I have any other choice?"
"What do you think, my friend?"
Resigned, Samael summoned his cross-spear and followed behind her, his expression tragically resolute, like a man walking to the gallows.
Beneath the half-open door, the sea wind swept through. The velvet quilt slipped, and on the bedsheet a dark red stain shaped like a plum blossom remained—vivid, pure, and unmistakable.