- Give it back! I told someone, give it back!
Prancing around the drenched youth like a doe, Mirra kept trying to retrieve the dagger.
"The price of saving your life." Free.
With a phlegmatic expression, Ragne headed away, still having to deal with the fur coat, which, after ten minutes of being underwater, had absorbed several liters of salty liquid.
"Payment for the rescue?" You got under my skirt!
"Only to remove the dagger."
The laconic answer did nothing to calm the flushed girl, whose graceful curves were visible through the soaked fabric of the evening dress.
- Pervert! Who cares what purpose you abused me for?!
Mirra's furious face appeared in front of Ragne, who pushed the annoying face aside with a languid movement.
— The difference between getting under your skirt and taking off your dagger is the same as between anal sex and an air kiss. I think this analogy is the closest to your occupation, and I hope there will be no more questions.
The young man, who was slowly trudging along the cobblestones, was firmly seized by the wrist.
— I'm not a whore, and I'm not a whore. Nothing you've heard from a bunch of angry old women has anything to do with the truth. The dagger is my parents ' last gift. You can ask for anything in return, but please give it back…
The young man's eyes dimmed for a second, but they quickly returned to their former appearance.
Handing the dagger to the girl, he tore his hand from her grasp and moved on.
Step by step, the drenched figure retreated, leaving puddles of water behind. Most likely, the fugitive tricked her into returning the dagger, but the heavy mark on her heart did not allow Ragna to ignore the words about her parents.
Surprised, Mirra didn't even realize what had happened at first, staring at the dagger in her palm in disbelief.
"You brute! Do you want to come to my place?
Ragne was taken aback by the girl's speech, and his pace slowed to a crawl.
"You brand me a pervert, and now you invite me home late at night?"
The girl answered the sarcastic question with a slight smile.
"Don't make it up. You're homeless, right? This is the coat I saw on Madame Olferia. A very eccentric person who prefers to get rid of her wardrobe at every change of season. I will be able to allocate one sleeping place…
As she approached the young man and circled him, looking thoughtful, Mirra nodded to her thoughts.
— You look like you're in your early twenties, with a well-trained body and good looks, it's hard to believe you're homeless. I'm sure with a face like that, we'll find a place to put you. You'll earn money and life will be easier right away, that's my payment for saving you, but first, tell me your name.
Wincing at the girl's appraising gaze, Ragne felt helpless. Unless you poke out your eyes, but then she definitely won't let you into her house…
"We need to find a way to remove the damned crystal and return the power... Being a beggar, it's quite difficult to carry out the plan, so be it…"
"My name is Ragne, vedi.
This was the first time the girl had encountered such spontaneity.
"You can't exactly call him a prude…"
Turning a hundred and eighty degrees, she took quick but rather short steps through the back streets toward the artisan district. The young man followed, after almost twenty minutes of walking, during which the soaked companion was chilled to the bone, the path ended near a dilapidated two-story house. The upper-tier seemed completely uninhabitable, part of the roof was missing, the walls retained the soot of the old fire, but the lower one was not full of luxury. Broken windows, draped with rags, a sagging door, with cracks from which the light of oil lamps escaped, a completely unremarkable shack.
"Here we are…
Myrrh opened the door, which was filled with the muffled noise of those who lived there. Ragne was not interested in the background of the household, but he remained wary. A step inside moved the body under the gaze of four young girls whose ages didn't differ much from Myrrhs.
— Who else are you?"
A girl with glasses came out to meet the fugitive, and after a short greeting, coldly addressed the stranger.
"Elin, don't be mean, he helped me get away from the purses. Better see what I've got.
Myrrh took a necklace with a large gemstone from the hollow between her breasts. It looked quite rich by the standards of ordinary people, but for the lord of the aura, such trinkets were of no value. Ragne paid no attention to the shimmering glow of the stone, nor to the voluminous breasts, he studied the other girls.
"Sorry, I forgot to introduce you." My sisters: Elin is a charming smart girl, she seems cold, but a sweet girl. The blonde's name is Vivienne, she is exactly what she looks like, domineering, obstinate, arrogant, you will find a common language… The one who sets the table is Selena, the best of us. Economic and very kind, the dream of a despot. And here is a brunette in a short T-shirt – Iola, Lady athleticism. I've grown my udder to my knees, I can't walk around in the hallway, and I'm also proud of something.
The performance of the girls started normally and ended as in a brothel. Even though he had never been there, his father and older brothers, who often traveled outside of their homeworld, talked with gusto and sensuality about such places.
"And the handsome man in the wet fur coat is Ragna." Strange name, isn't it? Well, little sisters, who want to finally lose their virginity?