CHAPTER 80: MEDUSA’S PREDICAMENT

Medusa sat on the edge of the bed, her slender fingers weaving nervously through strands of her violet hair.

She tugged at it as if trying to wring the indecision from her mind, though the action only made her more restless.

The groan that escaped her throat carried both frustration and a kind of disbelief at herself.

Edna was busy with Lillian.

From the faint laughter trickling through the inn’s walls, Medusa could tell they were enjoying themselves — bonding in that effortless way only mother and daughter could.

She wanted to be Lillian’s mother as well but that would have to wait.

It warmed her heart, but it also made her feel like she stood apart, caught in her own storm of nerves.

Because she had her own appointment.

Her Master — Azel had promised to take her into the city today.

Not for a mission.

Not for reconnaissance.

Not for a slaughter.

But simply to... spend time together.

Medusa’s golden eyes drifted over the mountain of clothes sprawled across the bed.

Every dress, robe, and casual piece Azel had purchased for her yesterday was scattered in a storm of silk, cotton, and lace.

She had more options than she had ever possessed in her life.

And yet, none of them felt right.

"Do I pick casual? Or... formal?" She muttered, tapping her chin with an elegant finger. "What does one even wear for... for..." Her brow furrowed as she searched for the word. "Dates? B-bates? Ates? Ugh!"

She huffed, rolling her eyes at herself.

Once, she had been Medusa the Vile Necromancer — the Tyrant who had nearly brought the world to its knees.

Her name had been enough to drive nations into panic.

Mothers had whispered her name as a warning to disobedient children.

Heroes had cursed her as the living calamity they could never quite kill.

And the world had hated her, despised her, with every collective breath it had.

And now?

Now she stood here, fretting like a maiden before her first evening stroll.

The irony almost made her laugh.

"If that world knew," she whispered, her lips curling. "If they knew Medusa the Vile was pacing about her room worrying about whether to wear silk or cotton... their jaws would break from hitting the ground."

A knock at the door froze her mid-thought.

Her heart stuttered.

She swallowed.

Was it Edna?

Her fingers tightened on her dress.

"C-come in," she called, her voice catching.

The door creaked open. And in walked Azel.

Her breath hitched.

She had been so preoccupied, she had forgotten that she could sense his aura.

She bowed immediately, flustered.

"M-Master, welcome back. I... I apologize, I should have greeted you at the door when you returned."

Azel tilted his head, his eyes sliding from her nervous face to the chaos of clothes on the bed.

And then he muttered something under his breath — something quiet, not meant for her ears.

But she heard it anyway.

"Cute."

The word detonated inside her chest.

Heat flooded her cheeks, painting them crimson.

Her knees almost buckled beneath her.

Why did every word from him feel like a spell binding her heart?

Compliments from mortals had never mattered.

They had begged, groaned, screamed.

She had silenced them with blades and tentacles alike.

Yet when her Master spoke... she burned alive.

"So you don’t know what to wear?" Azel asked, gesturing at the pile of dresses.

Her lips parted and closed, before she finally managed, "Y-yes, Master. I... I only wished to choose something that you would like very much."

Azel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "When you first arrived, you wore that black dress. It looked like it was made from silk."

Her eyes lit instantly. "Yes, Master! I crafted it from spider silk. If you’d like, I can make another one for today."

Azel smiled faintly. "Yes. Though... I’d like to see how you make it. As long as it isn’t too explicit."

Her cheeks deepened another shade, and she muttered softly, "I wouldn’t mind showing you everything, Master."

His ears twitched.

He had heard it.

She saw the faint flush creep up his cheeks.

Her heart soared in triumph.

’This is why older women are better,’ Azel thought to himself, though he didn’t say it aloud.

And then she acted.

Without hesitation, Medusa’s slender fingers slipped beneath the hem of her tunic.

She pulled it upward, peeling it away from her body.

Azel blinked, startled, as the garment fell to the floor.

She stood before him clad only in violet silk lingerie, her bra cradling breasts fuller and rounder than Edna’s, her panties a delicate lace that clung snug to her curves.

Medusa tilted her chin, basking in his gaze.

For the first time in centuries, she felt pride not in her power, nor in her cruelty, but in her body — her femininity.

Azel’s eyes lingered, his composure faltering for just a breath.

His cheeks burned red.

Her pulse hammered.

She had slain thousands without a thought.

But standing half-naked in front of her Master, awaiting his silent judgment?

It was exhilarating.

It made every cell in her body feel like it was alive.

She exhaled, steadying herself.

Then, with practiced grace, she lifted her hands.

Dark threads unfurled from her fingertips — black spider silk.

The strands shimmered faintly as they wrapped around her limbs, spiraling and weaving across her skin.

Azel watched, entranced, as the silk crawled over her body, knitting itself into a garment.

Slowly, the fabric shaped itself into a sleek, short dress that hugged her curves.

It ended just above her thighs, snug at the waist, adorned with delicate designs across its hem.

A creation both elegant and daring.

Medusa twirled, her violet hair fanning out like a silken wave.

She stopped and looked at him, her golden eyes sparkling with an anticipation she barely managed to conceal.

"Master~" she sang softly. "Do you like it?"

Azel’s lips curved into a smile that sent her heart into overdrive. "Yes, Meda. I love your dress a lot."

His hand reached for hers, strong and steady.

She froze at first — then let him take it, warmth flooding her veins.

"Now," he said, his voice soft yet commanding. "Let’s go see the city together like I promised."

Her chest clenched.

Her knees felt weak.

But she nodded, lips trembling into a smile. "Yes, Master."

Hand in hand, they stepped out of the inn.

The streets of Rochel were still beautiful after all, it was still morning time and Azel as well as Medusa enjoyed the feeling of wind against their faces, it was amazing.

"Master, what did you go out to do?" Medusa asked and Azel coughed.

"Well, the Sword Saint is here now," Azel said and he could visibly feel her body stiffen, "I helped him reunite with his real daughter so he’s happy,"

"I see..." Medusa said and smiled, "Well it’s time for us to spend time together."