Chapter 105: How to Make You Never Forget Me (Part One)

Kayla’s golden hair was strikingly beautiful, and her brown eyes narrowed like a cat’s, exuding an adorable charm. Her fair skin glowed, and the “Zircon Ankh” ornament resting on her chest shimmered brilliantly, radiating a dazzling light.

It is said that a woman’s most captivating moment is when she seems to see everything yet actually notices nothing. By this logic, Kayla’s allure at this very moment was utterly irresistible.

If Victor were to express his feelings with a famous quote, it would be: “Oh, how many sins have been committed under your name.” Were countless men who had erred brought down by such words? The young man fell into a philosophical reverie.

Then he took a deep breath, the scent of rosemary filling the air. “Lady Kayla, I truly don’t understand what you’re saying!”

Hearing Victor’s reply, Kayla withdrew her hands from her cheeks and straightened her posture. “Oh… you really don’t know?” The cross on her chest flickered and wobbled as she spoke.

“I don’t know what you know, nor do I understand what help you intend to offer. Perhaps it’s foolish and ill-timed to say this, but I refuse—I refuse to beg for your mercy.”

Victor had considered trusting the sorceress; her voice was melodious, the “Ankh” ornament beautiful, and the rosemary’s fragrance genuinely pleasant.

Yet, he resolved to stick to his original plan and rely on himself. After all, this was not the Kayla of years to come. If it were Triss before him, Victor would trust without hesitation—but Kayla Meis was different.

Without attempting further persuasion, she leaned back in her chair with a tactical tilt, the “Ankh” bouncing with the movement.

In the next instant, Kayla snapped her fingers, “Snap!”

The sound of the chair toppling echoed sharply, and Victor found himself suspended midair by a magical bind. Kayla’s face was etched with displeasure. “Why are all monster hunters so damn infuriating?!”

Dangling helplessly, Victor watched as she pulled a brass knuckle from her body. For a moment, he thought his eyes deceived him, but no—it was indeed the kind worn on the fist for striking, and the sorceress wielded it with practiced ease.

Silent but fierce, she slipped it onto her hand and delivered a powerful right hook straight into his abdomen.

Before being taken to the resting room, the young man had naturally undergone a search and disarmament, so the brass knuckle’s blow was excruciating.

Kayla declared, “This punch is to teach you to show proper respect to a sorceress!”

She then stretched her neck from side to side and lightly shook her wrists. “This next punch is to remind you to express adequate gratitude, especially after I’ve extended you kindness.”

“Pfft!” The second punch was as forceful as the first, but struck with greater precision, driving pain deep into Victor’s bones. “Remember this well—next time, you are not to refuse my goodwill!”

Having disciplined the youth, the sorceress raised her voice: “Someone outside, come in!”

Eight men standing guard outside entered the room, puzzled.

“Whoever has handcuffs and shackles, cuff him to that spot,” Kayla commanded, pointing to the bed hidden behind a screen.

Exchanging glances, the eight burly men worked together, restraining Victor’s hands behind his back with cuffs and tossing him onto the bed.

She then ordered, “Leave the keys here and stand guard outside.”

The spies and knights exchanged silent, knowing glances—an unspoken message among men—and quietly departed.

Once the room was left to the two of them, Kayla jingled the entire keyring before Victor’s eyes and gestured with her hand. The toilet lid floated upward with a soft clunk.

“Clunk!” Kayla dropped the keys inside. “This time, I’ll let it slide—for Triss’s sake.” Without looking back, she left the room.

The door clicked shut behind her. Slightly dumbfounded, Victor pondered and grasped the sorceress’s meaning—if he wanted to escape, he’d have to retrieve the keys from the toilet.

Recognizing this as Kayla’s small act of retribution for his lack of appreciation, the pain in his abdomen still throbbing faintly, the young man’s spirits lifted.

Though unnecessary practically, most respectable men would feel a thrill being aided by a stunning woman dressed scantily.

…

From the bed, he gazed out to the darkening sky, heavy clouds rolling in—a downpour was imminent.

“Come,” Victor said softly.

“Here!” His voice shattered the silence.

A brand-new herbal pouch appeared silently in his hand, as if crafted by his grandmother herself.

He slipped his cuffed hands into the pouch, retrieved the handcuffs, and repeated the process to remove the shackles from his feet, regaining his freedom.

What should have required first incapacitating the guards was now bypassed, though he regretted having to sneak away quietly, unable to reclaim his equipment—particularly the Mahakan steel sword and silver blade.

At that moment, he heard Tal’s voice from outside, “Why are you standing out there? What’s going on?”

The spy answered, “Lady Kayla bound the prisoner to the bed, then left to fetch something… she hasn’t returned yet…”

Hearing the exchange, a fierce resolve surged through Victor’s body. He convinced himself to act immediately. After all, the opportunity was rare—and having come this far, he might as well make the most of it.

…

Though inclined to berate his subordinates, Tal found nothing more to say.

Pushing past the blocking knight and closing the door behind him, Tal approached the bed concealed by the screen, intent on interrogating the prisoner further.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed and with a heavy “Bang!” a crushing blow struck his abdomen, curling his body like a cooked shrimp as he collapsed, retching.

He whimpered weakly, unable to utter much as the impact targeted his diaphragm perfectly. The punch had come from none other than the expert, Batman.

—This punch was my appreciation for your arrogant threats.

Silently, the man in black supported Tal’s arm and helped him up.

“Clang!”—admiring your foolishness in accusing me.

“Thud!”—respecting your pretense of authority before me.

“Smack!”—rewarding your pursuit of Miss Shani.

“Bang!”—thanking you for letting the rogue Viss toy with my… well.

Finally, with the sting of the brass knuckle’s assault, “Boom!”—sharing this joy with you.

Releasing him, Tal collapsed limply like overcooked noodles and saw Batman raise his foot to step on his fingers. He closed his eyes involuntarily.

Yet the agony he expected never came. The young man decided to spare him—venting by beating him was enough, no need for permanent damage.

Lacking hair to grab, Batman seized Tal’s bald head with both hands and repeatedly slammed it against the floor, knocking the King’s Eye unconscious.

After the beating, his mind clear and a strange satisfaction filling him, the youth felt ready to accomplish something worthwhile once he escaped.

He was now clad in the second-generation Bat armor, designed to enhance muscle definition and silhouette, making Batman’s physique distinctly different and larger than Victor’s usual form.

Faint sounds of the beating came from inside, which the intelligence agents ignored. But the lilies’ knights, assigned by the princess to protect the bard, could not remain silent and began pounding on the door.

“Director! Mr. Tal? You can’t injure the prisoner!”

Amidst the shouting, Batman calmly gulped down five bottles of potion in succession, then recycled the empty bottles.

After checking his gear, he approached the door, lifted his foot, and prepared to kick it open.