CHAPTER 93: GETTING A WORN PANTY!

"Wh-what the fuck did you just say right now?"

Celeste’s voice came out in a strangled squeak, her brain practically short-circuiting.

There was no way in hell she’d heard that correctly.

He hadn’t just said those words to her. To her. His sworn enemy.

Rae turned to her in the slowest, most theatrical motion imaginable, like he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment of pure disgrace.

His smile could have curdled fresh milk.

"I said, I want your wet, sweaty, stinky panties. Hand them over, and I’ll spare you and your friends."

Gear exhaled like he’d just witnessed a sacred ritual of shamelessness, closing his eyes and tilting his face to the sky as if to savor the depravity on the breeze.

Celeste clutched her chest, genuinely staggering back a step as though he’d physically stabbed her with his vulgarity.

’He said it. He really said those words.’

She couldn’t process it.

She’d seen her fair share of lunatics.

Drunken vagrants, groveling beggars who’d try to pawn off moldy trinkets for coin, but this...this was a whole new dimension of depravity.

This was industrial-grade shamelessness.

The kind you didn’t learn, you were born with it, suckled on it, probably tucked it under your pillow at night.

Nobody, not a single deranged soul, had ever dared ask her for a damn panty.

More than anything, this was not the situation where she ever imagined she’d hear such words.

Months—months—of relentless searching, tracking this bastard across half the kingdom, only for him to corner her...

...And have him demand her panties like some perverted street vendor haggling over undergarments.

And not just any panties—worn ones.

"Why?"

Celeste’s voice came out small, almost weary, as she shook her head and stared at the ground like it might offer her an escape hatch.

"Why you ask?"

Rae cocked his head, sounding genuinely delighted.

"I want to savor the arom—"

"Why do you want mine? Are you living in such poverty you can’t even afford a panty to wear yourself?"

"Eh...?" Gear choked so hard he nearly swallowed his own tongue.

"...What the?" Rae blinked, mouth hanging open.

’What the hell is this woman even saying?’

He stared at her, baffled beyond measure, while she looked back with an expression that was not rage or disgust—but pure, almost saintly pity.

Like she honestly believed he was just some destitute goblin who couldn’t scrape together the copper for his own underthings.

’Don’t tell me... she’s this naive...’

Rae lifted a finger, slowly, as if afraid any sudden movement would shatter her fragile understanding of reality.

"Woman... you don’t seem to grasp the context here. You are... very, very mistaken."

Celeste let out a long, beleaguered sigh and placed a hand over her face, as if shielding her eyes from the sheer absurdity before her.

She shook her head, pity radiating off her like heat.

"To think... even the infamous and mighty Goblin King isn’t in a condition to buy a single pair of underwear... it’s honestly so sad to hear about."

She peeked at him through her fingers, her tone heartbreakingly earnest.

"Even if I am your enemy, I can’t help but feel pity for you all."

"And your whole army... are they also forced to march into battle without any underwear?"

"Is that why you’re so desperate?"

Rae blinked.

"..."

Gear blinked.

"..."

Rae turned to Gear in slow motion, his expression stricken, like he was silently mouthing, you hearing this shit?

Gear met his gaze with the exact same look, stunned beyond words.

Gear had braced himself for some entertaining humiliation play—maybe a little tearful begging from her side—but this...this was a whole different sport.

’Does this woman only know how to fight?’

Rae thought, borderline offended by her earnest charity.

"Hey, hero, this isn’t me begging for your pity or some kind of charity. I am humiliat—"

"Of course I know that..."

Celeste interrupted smoothly, her tone gentle, as though she were trying to soothe a particularly embarrassed child.

"You’re a king. Obviously, you can’t be seen openly begging for these sorts of things."

She nodded solemnly, as if she were performing an act of mercy.

"But don’t worry. Since you said you’d end the siege on our tent for now... here it is."

Rae stood there frozen, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in pure, stunned disbelief as Celeste, without a shred of hesitation, reached her hand right down under her skirt.

A moment later, she pulled out a black pair of panties, delicate lace catching the sunlight like it was some holy relic being presented to the masses.

Gear actually took a step back.

This was so not what he’d been expecting.

Celeste walked up to Rae with the serene grace of a saint offering alms.

She had to tiptoe, just barely, to reach his shoulder, where she delicately draped the panties as if crowning him with a symbol of divine favor.

"Here you go, your majesty, the Goblin King."

She stepped back, giving him a soft little wave, her expression a blend of pity and benevolence that made Rae feel like the world’s saddest charity case.

"I’ve completed my end of the bargain. I trust you’ll honor yours."

"And if you ever need more underwear... please, just ask me."

"I’ll bring you some proper men’s pairs next time. Ta ta."

With that, she flashed them a dazzling, almost maternal smile before climbing onto her horse and galloping off into the distance like nothing at all about this moment was unhinged.

Silence settled over the clearing.

Both goblins stood there, absolutely speechless.

Rae turned his head stiffly, as if it might snap off his neck, to stare at Gear.

"What... the hell just happened?"

Gear swallowed, voice hoarse.

"I... don’t know, my liege. But... you now possess a panty she wore."

His gaze drifted to the black lace draped on Rae’s shoulder, eyes glinting with an unholy hunger.

Rae stood there in a daze, brain caught somewhere between bafflement and unholy fascination.

But after a moment, he blinked hard and pulled himself back from the edge of sheer stupefaction.

’There is no actual way she’s this naive... No way in hell.’

He refused, absolutely refused, to believe someone like her could exist.

He plucked the panties off his shoulder and held them up, studying them with the air of a jeweler appraising some questionable gemstone.

Standard black lace. Nothing fancy. Looked clean. Suspiciously clean.

His eyes narrowed.

Slowly, deliberately, he brought them to his face and took a long, greedy inhale.

He didn’t just sniff, he marinated in it, breathing in until his lungs were steeped in every last trace of her scent.

"..."

He pulled the panties away from his face, eyes glittering with triumph.

Because, finally, he understood what she was.

’She’s a damn liar.’