NOVEL WEB Chapter 12: Chapter 12- A tied Saintess on bed?
The world around Akhil shifted as his vision swam, painful memories crashing over him in relentless waves—the frantic final sprint, the horrifying crash, the blood staining everything.
He had braced himself for the cold finality of death, yet what he felt instead was an overwhelming pull, an unsettling jolt that defied logic.
'Where am I?' His eyes snapped open, and to his surprise, he was greeted not by the expected darkness of death.
The familiar sensations of agony and battle-worn flesh were replaced by something warmer—something lavish yet disconcertingly unfamiliar.
Akhil's eyes fluttered, his mind numb with the residual shock of a transition he couldn't fully grasp.
But already, his body seemed different.
He could feel the stoic, tightened muscles all over his body—seemingly muscular yet stuffy at the same time, unlike his younger self.
Sunlight streamed through thick royal curtains, casting an oppressive golden hue around the room.
It was almost too perfect, too pristine.
Without thinking, his hands shot up to clutch his head, a raw, primal ache thrumming within him, as if multiple lives were clashing violently in his mind.
Though it wasn't pain, he experienced sudden random voices, images, and events while his consciousness denied acceptance of those memories, slowly processing each one of them as they were unfamiliar—not painful, but uncomfortable.
[SUPREME YANDERE SYSTEM INITIATED.]
A voice pierced through the fog swirling in his head, incomprehensible yet strangely familiar.
It was familiar, like the voice he had heard at the last moment after the crash, but he ignored it as a hallucination.
[ FINALLY BROUGHT THE HOST IN HIS REAL BODY. ]
As he fought to make sense of things, parts of memories that did not belong to him began swirling in his consciousness—visionary fragments of a life replete with wealth, power, and obsession.
Echoes of laughter and whispers of adoration blended into sharp pangs of loss and betrayal.
Akhil felt as though he were standing at the edge of someone else's life, looking into a world where love was distorted—passionate yet destructive.
He tried to concentrate, to filter through the mess.
Soon enough, his mind was able to process the memories, calming himself down as he closed his eyes, focusing on them.
And through the memories, several questions arose in his mind.
Who was Lysanderic?
And why was that person's memory now inside Akhil's mind?
No, even more important was...
Why was he here—wherever "here" was—and what had brought them to this strange collision?
The sensations were overwhelming: the silk of the sheets beneath him, the stench of roses hanging in the air, the hum of distant voices drawn closer with each passing breath.
Even though he opened his eyes, the same space greeted him—luxurious yet daunting.
A large bed adorned with soft fabric, walls lined with gilded mirrors, and delicate chandeliers that gleamed in the sun's rays.
But amidst all this, he turned his gaze down, lifting his hand.
It was slightly bulkier, more muscular—completely opposite to what it had been before.
He clenched his hand, his eyes noticing the slight bulge on the silk blanket between his legs resting on either side, clearly accentuated by the shape of a head and a morning erection.
He knew it was his dick.
'Why am I here and in this body?' But not reacting differently, considering the state he was in, Akhil closed his eyes, remembering the events.
He hoped his sacrifice had taken the revenge he needed in the end, but at the same time, he felt confused.
Instead of dying, he woke up in another body.
But how?
[HOST, IT WAS ME WHO BROUGHT YOU HERE. <(￣︶￣)>]
'...Why?' Though early, Akhil's voice was calm and composed as he turned his gaze aside, the memories of last night—no, memories of upcoming nights—filling his mind.
Currently, he had three memories from alternate times revolving inside his mind.
With all those unimaginable memories, the voice that would have shocked him in his past life now seemed simpler.
Yes, he had accepted that the memories he had were from his past life, and that he was currently inhabiting the body of a king.
Indeed, he had three sets of memories—his own, those of a King named Lysanderic Aleria Vandreat, and those of Regressed King Lysanderic.
It was confusing considering he had just arrived inside this body, but even so, there were memories of the future which he knew were true, as they were clearly evident.
To confirm the authenticity of his memories, he looked beside him; there lay a woman in a nun dress.
And from his memories, he knew her name—Grace.
It was unbelievable, but his mind, considering his stronger consciousness, remained composed while processing all the memories he had.
From one of the pieces of memory, he remembered this day. It was the day when the holy faction, who wanted to establish a theocracy and remove the aristocracy, declared him, King Lysander, a heretic who defiled the Saintess.
Grace's wrists were tightly tied to the headboard, and her ankles were bound at the foot of the bed, forcing her slim body into a position that felt both humiliating and helpless.
Her limbs were stretched awkwardly, making her feel completely exposed, but thanks to her white stockings and full-body nun dress, she was kept well covered.
Her face, once so calm and peaceful, was now flushed with a deep red, her golden eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
She stared at the man above her—Lysander.
Grace wasn't naïve.
She had a good understanding of what was about to happen, even though it terrified her.
Initially, she didn't expect this ill, bedridden king to pounce on her and tie her to the bed, and who even expected that under the sheet he was naked?
Shouldn't it be the minister's responsibility to inform her, the saintess, beforehand that the poison given to him had the side effect of an aphrodisiac and that maids had kept this king naked?
But there wasn't anything she could do. She had healed Lysander—she had saved him—and this was her punishment.
Being called from the monastery to heal the bedridden king and now tied to the bed by him? What kind of nonsense was this!?
But she knew who was behind all this.
'Pope, I am going to put that bald head of yours in boiling water, let me leave this place!!' Even in this condition, she knew very well that the king was poisoned with the aphrodisiac, so it was clear that he would be in heat.
And it was clear that everyone except her knew about this.
After all, she can, with closed eyes, tell that the high priest was trying to achieve his goals by challenging her position as a saintess.
He had clearly manipulated everything, wanting to kill two birds with one stone: she would lose her ability due to losing her virginity, and the king would be killed due to tainting a saintess.
Creating a revolution and establishing a theocracy with the high priest as the ruler of it.