Artis, Chen, and Young Master Jin reveled in the lively atmosphere. Artis kept his drinking moderate—he had his own reasons, after all—but sampled the fine sake and wine the tavern-turned-brothel had to offer.
Despite the small crowd, the patrons were all under Young Master Jin's influence, making for an evening filled with music, dance, and reckless indulgence.
Artis, however, had his own agenda. He poured drink after drink for Chen, ignoring the man's protests and feeble attempts to set down his cup.
When Chen shied away from the advances of the tavern girls, Artis shoved them towards him, their enticing perfumes clinging to Chen's robes like an inescapable mist.
"Come on, brother-in-law, don't be a coward! Be a man for one night and shake off that collar my sister's slapped around your neck."
He said with a devilish smirk.
But his actions weren't just for camaraderie or simple amusement—oh no, Artis had his own reasons, hidden beneath that mischievous grin.
'Camaraderie, my ass. I'm just giving Chen enough drinks to loosen his grip on that iron will of his... for speeding up Artis's 'bonding' with his dear stepsister. A little nudge never hurt, heh heh...'
And it seemed his plan was working. Chen, thoroughly intoxicated, had thrown any semblance of restraint to the wind. He swayed in time to the tavern's music, hands wandering as he laughed and stumbled among the whores with uncharacteristic abandon.
By night's end, Young Master Jin and his entourage bid their farewells, leaving Artis to escort a barely coherent Chen back to his quarters, nestled in the sect's outer court. There was a reason Artis's home was placed so far out, despite his close ties with the young master—a petty matter, but a thorn in his pride nonetheless.
"Damn, brother-in-law, our home is really out in the wilderness, isn't it?"
Artis muttered, hoisting Chen's arm over his shoulder as they trudged along.
"Y-yeah... far..."
Chen slurred, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. He was so far gone, it was a miracle he could walk at all.
"Come on, I'll carry you. Can't have my sister's husband face-planting out here in the mud."
Artis said, lifting Chen with a grunt.
"Sh-Shanks..."
Chen mumbled, his gratitude nearly lost in the haze of drink as he leaned heavily on his brother-in-law.
After passing through two imposing gates, Artis and Chen finally entered the outer court. Here, the houses were modest compared to the opulent residences of the inner court and the capital court beyond.
Row upon row of similarly styled houses stretched out before them. Though lacking the extravagance of the inner court, the outer area was clean and well-kept—no doubt maintained by those tasked with upholding the sect's standards.
It was late, and most windows were dark, their occupants already resting or otherwise occupied. The moon shone bright and full, casting a silvery glow over the path and providing Artis enough light to navigate.
He smirked to himself, his mind wandering to the two "beauties" he was about to encounter.
'If the Matriarch is that gorgeous, I can't wait to see what her daughter—the so-called 'homely beauty'—looks like up close. Knowing the author, these two are bound to be crafted with all the curves and charms a degenerate mind can dream up.'
He grinned, picturing all the possibilities. Soft curves, bouncing ass cheeks, and full breasts that might defy the restraint of any robe. If the author truly did his job, there'd be no shortage of temptation under this roof.
With a final smirk, Artis stopped in front of the small one-story house. It wasn't grand, but it boasted four rooms—enough to house a couple of beauties, and all the privacy he needed to investigate his new "family" a bit closer.
"We're here, brother-in-law. Home sweet home. Just remember, your wife is a swiney little pig that no one would even bat an eye at."
Artis whispered, giving Chen a conspiratorial nudge. The poor drunken fool was so far gone he probably couldn't tell a pig from a peach.
"My shwife's…a little fig? Oh, Heaven's sake! I married a fig? A damn fig?"
Chen slurred, wide-eyed, barely standing straight. His voice was a mixture of drunken wonder and utter despair.
Artis smirked.
"Yes, yes. You did."
Why was he doing this? Oh, there was a reason all right.
Flickering lights danced from inside the house, a sign that at least someone was awake. He hoped it was his stepmother and stepsister, eager to see how their evening would unfold.
With one arm still holding up the wobbling Chen, Artis slid open the shoji door, a hush falling over the entryway. It was dark and quiet inside, the sort of silence that was either full of secrets or someone who might come out swinging.
"No one wants to see your naked, sorry ass every damn day."
Artis whispered, letting the words slur into Chen's ear. Chen cracked a lazy, crooked smile.
"True…true, brother-in-law…"
He mumbled, clearly too far gone to argue with his own ugliness.
Artis quickened his pace, half-dragging Chen down the corridor, hoping they wouldn't bump into anyone.
"Hell, even a stiffened cock would shrivel up if it had to look at your sorry ass."
"Heh…heh…so damn funny…"
Chen cackled, stumbling over his own feet.
"Yeah, yeah, and remember the big, nasty word—W.H.O.R.E. Stick that in your head for later, brother-in-law."
Artis enunciated, his tone sharp as he spelled it out.
They finally reached what he could only assume was Chen's room. Artis took a steadying breath, knocking gently on the door, his hand trembling just a little as he did. His heart pounded; he was on the verge of meeting her.
Through the shoji door's thin paper screen, Artis glimpsed a moving silhouette—a perfect hourglass figure gliding closer, hips swaying like a promise. A moment later, the door slid open, and Artis's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Oh, for the love of Heaven… Drunk again, is he?"
The woman in the doorway crossed her arms, her dark, smoldering eyes fixed on them with an intensity that sent shivers up his spine. Her flowing black hair tumbled over bare shoulders, framing a face so radiant it was nearly sinful.
Full lips were pursed in a mixture of annoyance and amusement, while her cheeks flushed with a healthy, irresistible red.
But Artis's eyes didn't stop there. Oh no. His attention slid down, settling on the only thing she wore.
Since this was, after all, a fantasy world dreamed up by a damned degenerate, nighties were apparently a thing here—specifically, the flimsy, see-through kind that left almost nothing to the imagination. And with the way the women's bodies in this world seemed sculpted by some god with a taste for perfection, Artis felt his breath hitch at the sight.
The only thing she wore was a long, sheer white nightie that clung to her like mist. Every lush curve was visible—the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, and, oh yes, those full, round breasts.
The chest area featured delicate flower patterns, but the main flowers on middle of the either sides lacked buds. Why? Because her perfectly pink, perky nipples stood out proudly as the "buds," and they were just visible enough to make Artis's mouth go dry.
He felt a tightness stir below, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep himself in check. His eyes drifted lower, tracing the flat expanse of her stomach to where a delicate lace panty sat on her hips, as white as the nightie and almost as transparent. Below, her long, smooth legs stretched down like a tantalizing pathway to pure sin.
If that lace had been even a shade more transparent, well… heaven help him.
'This is what heaven feels like. Pure bliss. My life is complete... and I'm probably going to die soon.'
He silently thanked the author for this chance. After all, a virgin like him could only dream of being this close to a pair of boobs so heavenly—something that existed only in fantasies until now.