"My lady, if you know I came from the capital city's slums, you might also be aware that I used to take care of a sword master named Russell," he began.
Lady Katherine nodded. "Yes, I'm aware. I heard about him when he was at his peak. He was quite promising then. I didn't expect him to end up in such a lowly place as the slums…" Her tone, laced with both disgust and pity, sparked a flicker of anger in Cassian. He resented the disdain toward the slums, where he had once lived, and felt that pity was just a gentler form of that disgust.
He steeled himself and continued, "Russell entrusted me with a keepsake on his deathbed. Some people were after that keepsake and attacked me, leaving my master behind. You're right about the blood on my clothes—it's mine. The attackers tortured me to force me to hand over the keepsake." His voice quivered slightly as he recounted the ordeal.
The memories of that day were still fresh, but he avoided detailing the most harrowing parts.
"After being tortured for several minutes, I lost consciousness," Cassian continued. "The next thing I remember is waking up in a dark cell, chained, but somehow my body had healed—and the master's keepsake was gone." He finished his story and cautiously glanced at Katherine, hoping she believed him.
She remained silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Cassian's anxiety grew as the silence stretched, but finally, Katherine nodded. "It's believable," she said. "But do you have any idea who these people were? The ones who tortured you?"
Cassian shook his head. "I'd never seen them before. But they all had unusual eyes—almost inhuman, despite looking like people." He shuddered, recalling the eerie, emotionless gaze of his captors as they inflicted pain without a trace of sympathy.
Cassian hadn't expected sympathy from Katherine, but as he recounted his story, he couldn't help but search her eyes for a flicker of emotion. Instead, she remained calm, her expression indifferent. She simply nodded and returned to her work, as though the tale had been nothing more than a casual remark. "Well, if you ever find out who they were, let me know.
I'll make sure they're punished," she said coolly. Then, without missing a beat, she continued, "Now, if you've read the book Sumina gave you, come under the table and perform one of the techniques mentioned."
Cassian blinked, shocked. She slipped off her shoes, revealing her pristine feet.
He had spent the entire time wondering how learning foot massage could help him in the future—especially when the system was supposed to be focused on warrior training, not servant duties. Even it said it will help him in the future.
'So this was what it was all about,' Cassian thought, though he still couldn't figure out how this would impact his future. 'Is she really going to keep me around based on my foot-massaging skills?' he mused, half-jokingly. But after a moment, the thought didn't seem so far-fetched.
Shaking off his shock, Cassian hesitantly slid under the table, unsure of what to expect. Lady Katherine, seemingly uninterested in his discomfort, returned to her work. He had no idea what she was doing up there, but he was too nervous to look.
As he settled cross-legged beneath the table, Katherine rested her feet on his thighs. He felt a flicker of indignation—sure, he was a servant, but his duties were cleaning, not massaging, feet. But alas, if he wants to keep the job, he would have to do it.
Thinking of Sumina who gave him the book he thought'd 'Did she have to do the same thing?' The thought crossed his mind as he stared at Katherine's feet.
Cassian couldn't help but marvel at how flawless her feet were—rosy, delicate, and almost marble-like in their perfection. The smoothness of her skin was striking, and though her feet had a slightly bony structure, they were undeniably beautiful. The soft texture under his fingers made him wonder if the rest of her body shared the same perfection.
The question nagged at him, sparking a curiosity that he couldn't resist.
He found himself glancing up from beneath the table, hoping for a peek at her figure. What met his eyes first was her chest, which blocked his view of her face. Her breasts were large and full, straining gently against the fabric of her gown, their shape noticeable even from this angle. They weren't just large but perfectly shaped, high and firm, suggesting a youthful allure despite her mature age.
Cassian couldn't help but wonder why so many women he had encountered here were similarly endowed. He liked looking at them, and though he had never acted on the impulse, there was a stirring desire within him to reach out and touch them. But what did breasts really do? He only knew they were used to feed children—a fact he had heard of but never seen for himself.
As his eyes roamed lower, he noticed how the gown she wore, a creamy floral pattern, clung to her body in a way that emphasized her every curve. Her waist was slender, tapering into a subtle, elegant curve before flaring out at her hips. Though not as exaggerated as Lucy's, Katherine's hourglass figure was undeniably appealing.
Her hips were round and proportional, flowing smoothly into long, shapely legs that disappeared under the desk.
However, he forced his mind to return to the task at hand. Katherine's feet still rested on his thighs, and though part of him felt embarrassed to be in this position—kneeling at the feet of such a powerful woman—he remembered Sumina's instructions and the training that brought him here. He had to focus.
Her figure, while distracting, was secondary to the task of performing the massage techniques he'd learned from the strange book.
The first step in any massage was to loosen the muscles by applying oil and then apply pressure to key points to release tension. Without oil available and not wanting to ask Lady Katherine for any, Cassian decided to proceed carefully.
He placed his thumbs at the center of one of her feet and began to gently press and slide them upwards, working his way toward her toes before gliding back down toward her heel. His movements were slow and deliberate, using just enough pressure to stimulate warmth.
As he continued, he could feel the tension gradually easing from her feet. Within a few minutes, her skin began to radiate heat under his touch, a sign that his massage was working to relax her muscles. Though he lacked the oil, the rhythmic motion of his thumbs seemed to be doing the job well enough.