The World Is Mine For The Taking

Isiliraiellyn was clearly enjoying herself.

She lounged confidently in one of the chairs stationed outside a seedy pub.

It was one unmistakably set up for public displays of debauchery.

The worn-down cushion and faint scent of sex on the air made it obvious this wasn't a place for casual drinking.

And at her feet, three women knelt obediently.

Their foreheads almost touched the ground, their heads bowed low in submission, their tongues delicately licking the glossy upper leather of Isiliraiellyn's shoes like worshippers at a shrine.

The glint in her eyes, the smirk stretching wide across her face... she was in absolute bliss.

Her entire posture screamed arrogance and delight, the kind of glee that oozed out from someone who was basking in the illusion of absolute power.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

I never would've imagined she of all people indulging in something so humiliatingly dominant… but then again, who the hell really knows what people are hiding under their skin?

"Fuhahahahahahahahahaha!" she burst out, her laughter maniacal. It echoed off the cracked stone walls like the war cry of a villain embracing her theatrical peak. "That's right! Kneel! Kneel before me! Kiss my feet for all I care! Fuhahaha! Ha—?"

Her laughter, loud and triumphant, suddenly caught in her throat.

Her eyes locked onto mine.

We stared at each other for a split second—just long enough for the realization to dawn in her gaze.

I jerked my head away instantly, pretending I hadn't seen a damn thing. My footsteps picked up. I just wanted to walk away like this never happened.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttttttttt!!!"

Her shriek cut through the air like a thunderclap, and before I could process it, she was already sprinting towards me.

"Hold ooooooooooonnnnnn! Waiiiiittttttttt!"

The pounding of her boots on the cobbled ground echoed behind me. I didn't even turn around—until a sudden grip wrapped around my wrist and yanked me to a stop.

She clutched my hand tightly, panting slightly from the short dash, eyes wide with a mix of panic and desperation.

"L-Let's talk for a bit," she pleaded, her voice slightly trembling.

I sighed internally. I was this close to letting this whole ridiculous encounter go and to just forget I ever saw it. But now, with her practically clinging to my ass like a lost puppy, it seemed I didn't have much of a choice.

Might as well hear her out.

I sent a quick message to Tris, letting her know I'd wandered into a pub.

Considering she was running late, I figured I might as well take the liberty to chill somewhere more comfortable instead of waiting around like some loyal dog. If she could make me wait at her own pace, then I sure as hell could take mine.

She messaged me back almost instantly with a thumbs-up emoji and a quick apology.

Looked like she was gonna be later than usual.

Isiliraiellyn sat across from me now, fidgeting with her fingers in a painfully awkward rhythm. She kept glancing at me and away, that sheepish grin stuck on her face like glue.

Her hands were still wrapped in pristine white bandages. There wasn't a single cut or bruise on her. She wasn't injured. It was purely aesthetic, part of her so-called look.

On top of that, she wore a black eyepatch over one eye, adding to the theatricality of her entire outfit.

It wasn't hard to tell.

This girl was suffering from something.

Well, not a sickness, not a curse, not even some magical affliction.

It was worse.

Back in my world, we called it chuunibyou.

That cringe-inducing phase where someone fully believes they're living out some over-the-top fantasy.

They create grand delusions of power, mystery, and destiny, and they act them out like they're the main character of some edgy, poorly-written light novel.

And yeah, I'd been there before.

I knew what it was like to get lost in that world, pretending you were something more than just ordinary.

The difference was, I had grown the fuck out of it.

Isiliraiellyn, though? She was still deep in it.

"Hehehe…" she let out a nervous chuckle, scratching her cheek with a single bandaged finger. "You probably misunderstood what you saw earlier. I mean, it's not something that could be considered… illegal."

She tried to sound casual, but her words were all over the place.

Then, placing a hand over her chest like some kind of royal, she leaned forward, her clothes and accessories rustling with a soft, metallic sound. Chains, buckles, and layers of fabric shifted dramatically with the smallest motion.

"I only did it to show people my greatness! That's all! There's nothing behind it, I swear!"

She spoke with such conviction, but I still couldn't make heads or tails of her logic. If I had to guess, she was claiming that what I saw wasn't what I thought it was.

"Right…" I muttered. "So what you're telling me is… you didn't hire prostitutes to lick your boots while you declared yourself some divine ruler?"

"I-I told you! I didn't hire anyone!" she stammered, her face going red. "They just… saw how great I was and did it on their own! I didn't pay them!"

The sound of coins jingling with every twitch of her body made it hard to believe.

I looked at her again, taking in her absurdity.

Isiliraiellyn Pantagruel.

A truly fascinating mess of a person.

She was a rare hybrid.

A half-human, half-demon. An uncommon mix, especially now, with both races practically at each other's throats. But well, I wouldn't put it past some wild, chaotic circumstance leading to her creation.

Physically, she wasn't lacking.

She had a modest bust, sure, but her face was undeniably beautiful. Delicate features, sharp eyes, flawless skin. If it weren't for her personality, she'd have people lining up for her.

But her personality was the real deal-breaker.

This woman had one hell of a hero complex.

Or maybe it was more than that.

Some need to be seen, admired, praised like a divine figure descending from the heavens. She wanted to be loved, worshipped… adored.

Just like a hero—or a villain pretending to be one.

"Anyway," I said finally, leaning back in my seat, "I don't really plan to report you for trying to buy prostitutes. Not my business. Still, you probably shouldn't have done something that stupid in public."

"I told you, I didn't—!" she started, then stopped herself with a defeated sigh. "You're not gonna believe me even if I keep talking, are you?"

"Nope."

Prostitutes in Pleasure City weren't limited to just sex work, anyway.

You could hire them for pretty much anything, like dancing gigs, promotional events, background roles in public shows, hell, even just for aesthetic purposes.

Or… weird crap like licking someone's boots while they laugh like a lunatic.

Just another day in this city.

"Y-You promise you're not going to tell anyone?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted around nervously, as though a hidden observer might suddenly leap out and catch her in the act.

I raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you want me to tell someone."

"N-No!" she said quickly, shaking her head in panic. "If the academy found out… I'd be screwed!"

Well, that was right. Pleasure City wasn't a place cadets were supposed to be caught lingering in—especially not for sex. That was common knowledge. Engaging with a prostitute wasn't just frowned upon. It was a landmine that, if stepped on, led straight to expulsion.

And Isiliraiellyn? Well, she was a cadet. Just like me. We were even in the same class.

That alone made it bad. But what made it worse?

She was a woman.

A woman indulging in the services of a prostitute—especially in a city known for its decadence—was treated far more harshly than any male cadet doing the same. That double standard was brutal, but real.

Then she squinted at me, narrowing her lone visible eye in suspicion. "Wait a minute… What are you doing here, huh? Don't tell me you're here to rent a prostitute too?! That's completely against the academy's moral code! I'll report you!"

Her sudden accusation was laughable.

I gave her a look. "Hey now, aren't you forgetting something kind of important? You're the one who just got caught red-handed. If you try tattling, what do you think I'll do? What do you think's gonna happen when I tell them what I saw earlier?"

"Hikkk!" she gasped sharply. "O-Oh, right…"

What an idiot.

Honestly, it felt like I was trying to argue with someone whose brain was running on a ten-second delay. Her sense of logic was on life support.

"And besides," I continued, sighing with a tinge of annoyance, "I'm not here for that, alright? I've got actual business to take care of."

"Business?" she asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

Just then, right on cue, the one I'd been waiting for finally showed up.

"Leon! I'm here!" a familiar voice rang out with relief and urgency. "Sorry I'm late. I had to talk to someone first, which is why I— Huh?"

Tris's footsteps came to a sudden stop, her gaze falling directly on Isiliraiellyn.

A beat passed.

And then she pointed, her expression twisting into a look of disbelief. "And who's this jester?"

With the ridiculous getup Isiliraiellyn was wearing—the bandages, the eyepatch, the over-the-top posture—it wasn't hard to mistake her for a sideshow performer.

Even Tris thought she looked like a clown.