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Chapter 7: The Amazon's Carnal Lesson
The neon-drenched veins of the Entertainment District had pulsed with a different, more jagged rhythm ever since the Goddess Ishtar was forcibly sent back to the heavens. Without the iron-fisted governance of the Ishtar Familia, the district's delicate ecosystem had collapsed into a lawless free-for-all, with minor factions and opportunists squabbling over the remnants of the red-light empire. As a veteran Amazon and a former cornerstone of that fallen hierarchy, Aisha Belka watched the decay with a detached, clinical eye. She had no intention of playing peacekeeper; in this world, if you couldn't protect your own territory, you deserved to be paved over. The idea of being "protected" simply because she was a woman was a saccharine fantasy that didn't survive a single night in these gutters.
However, even Aisha couldn't ignore the electric thrill currently surging through the brothels and back-alleys. It wasn't about power or territory this time—it was about a boy.
"Have you heard? The 'Rabbit Foot' is finally being put to use. There's a series of books circulating... they say he's being hunted and claimed by every high-profile woman in Orario."
At first, Aisha had laughed at the notion. She assumed the rumors had the roles reversed—surely the boy was the predator. But as she thought of Bell Cranel—that earnest, white-haired rabbit who blushed if you so much as whispered in his ear—she realized the rumor made perfect sense. He wouldn't know how to initiate a conquest; he was the ultimate prize to be conquered. Driven by a predatory curiosity, she sent Lena Tally to fetch the volumes. The girl returned not with a few pamphlets, but a heavy stack of five distinct books, including a brand-new release that still smelled of fresh, illicit ink.
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Aisha started with the volume featuring the "Gale". She expected a farce—the idea of Ryuu Lion, that monastic, "don't-touch-my-skin" elf, falling into a carnal trap was objectively hysterical.
The laughter didn't last past the fifth page.
The artist hadn't just drawn a parody; they had captured the terrifyingly raw transition of a chaste warrior losing her mind to her own biology. The sight of the "Gale" wearing a wedding dress that left more than it covered—a garment even an Amazon would find bold—was a masterstroke of erotic subversion. By the end of the book, Aisha found herself strangely moved. Watching that rigid, elven pride melt into the primal bliss of being claimed by the man she loved was... a revelation. Even the coldest soul, once ignited, became a slave to the instinct to propagate.
"Well, damn," Aisha breathed, tossing the elven volume aside. "No wonder the city is on fire."
The craftsmanship was terrifying. The pacing, the expressions, the way the artist understood the specific neuroses of the models—it was the work of a genius. Finally, Aisha reached for the book with her own face on the cover.
"If they made me look like some wilting flower, I'll track them down and break their hands," she muttered, her heart beginning to thrum with a dark, expectant heat.
The story opened with a scenario that felt hauntingly familiar: Aisha cornering the boy as he returned from a deep-floor expedition, his scent a heady mix of monster ash, sweat, and adrenaline.
"You're still riding that high from the dungeon, aren't you, Bell Cranel? Why don't you play with me for a bit?"
In reality, the boy would have bolted or been rescued by his elven chaperone. But in the book, the fictional Aisha was faster. She intercepted his hesitation, dragging him into a nearby inn and barricading the door with her own formidable frame.
The illustrated Aisha didn't waste time. She seized his jaw, devouring his lips in a kiss so visceral Aisha could almost taste it.
"Ooh, that reaction... tell me, Little Rookie, is this your first time even being kissed?"
"No way," Aisha whispered to the empty room, her eyes widening as she read on. "Is the brat really that pure?"
The contrast was a drug. In the Dungeon, Bell was a feral god of speed; here, he was reduced to a stuttering, high-pitched "Fai!" as she systematically dismantled his defenses. Aisha felt a surge of "gap moe" so powerful it made her head spin. She realized, with a thrill that was both embarrassing and deeply satisfying, that she had a massive soft spot for the boy's uncorrupted innocence.
The book didn't skimp on the physical details, either. When the illustrated Aisha finally stripped away his trousers, she found that the "Rabbit Foot" was surprisingly... well-equipped.
"Well now... if the fiction matches the reality, I've been wasting my time just teasing him," she murmured, her tongue darting out to lick her lips unconsciously.
The rest of the volume was a masterclass in carnal dominance. There was no talk of love, no flowery romance—it was a depiction of a beast and its prey, of a female claiming a male until both were nothing but slaves to the pleasure. Yet, amidst the graphic intensity, there was a sense of profound human happiness—the raw, ancient joy of the act itself.
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Aisha finished the book in a daze, her skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat and her breathing ragged. For the first time in years, she had spent an hour "comforting herself" in a way that felt entirely new, driven not by professional need but by a feverish, personal desire.
She emerged from the shower, the cool water doing little to dampen the fire in her chest. This book was a catalyst; if it could affect her this way, it would drive a repressed soul like Ryuu or a sheltered girl like Haruhime into a total frenzy.
"This thing is a strong medicine," Aisha muttered, looking at the volume featuring Haruhime and Bell.
She thought of her "little sister," the fox-girl who still believed in knights and fairy-tale endings. The other women in the city—the Gale, the Sword Princess, the Guild's best—were already circling the rabbit. If Haruhime didn't wake up soon, she'd be left with nothing but a handful of fur.
Aisha grabbed the Haruhime volume, her eyes gleaming with a predatory, protective light. She would give this to the fox. It was time to burn away the childhood fantasies and replace them with a very adult reality.
"Time to grow some claws, little fox," Aisha whispered, stepping out of her room. "Before the rest of the pack eats your rabbit whole."
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