CHAPTER 39: SAINTESS OR DEVIL? [II]

He tried to expand the space so he could even see her face, but not by much.

The distortion resisted him a bit, every inch demanding more focus, but he persisted.

After all to hear sounds and see shapes were different

The image sharpened in fragments — her jawline first, then her lips, and finally her eyes.

What he saw made him grimace.

Her face was flushed red, hot enough that her skin glistened faintly under the dim interior light of the car.

Her chest rose and fell too quickly, as if she were already out of breath.

Sweat clung to her hairline, damp strands sticking to her cheek.

Rita didn’t look calm, dignified, or holy like a Saintess.

She looked like a woman consumed by mania, like a bitch in heat who had just found her next bone.

"I don’t care whether Vanessa signed him," she whispered in a voice that shook between huskiness and madness.

Her tone was almost a purr, yet beneath it was a sharp, twisted hunger. "I want him to become my personal toy. I want to rip his dick to shreds and grow it again, and again, and again. His face..."

Her tongue flicked across her lips, saliva glinting in the low light.

Her eyelids fluttered half-closed as though she was savoring a taste that wasn’t there.

"His face is so handsome," she said, her eyes rolling until the whites flashed. "I want to see it terrified..."

Lucius swore under his breath.

’Yeah, this woman has a big problem.’

He wanted to laugh, but the absurdity stuck in his throat.

It wasn’t funny.

It was horrifying.

This was beyond the quirky, perverted quirks the author hinted at in the original novel.

What the hell was the author smoking when including a character like her???

"Miss Saintess," Jose stammered, voice thin as paper.

His lips trembled as he spoke. "What are you going to do with me?"

Lucius tilted his gaze.

Jose sat pressed against the seat like he wanted to disappear into it, his face pale and wet with nervous sweat.

The driver in front didn’t respond, only adjusted his grip on the wheel.

A black mask concealed his identity, the same type the men wore earlier when they restrained Jose.

"Where? We’re going to my factory," Rita said casually, as though she were inviting someone to afternoon tea.

Her voice softened again, teasing. "Don’t worry. I’ll teach you why not all women enjoy it when your dick tents right in front of them while they’re sitting."

Jose gulped loudly.

His voice cracked. "P-please, it’s not my fault... you were just too hot."

Lucius smacked his forehead.

’You idiot.’

Sure enough, Rita sneered, her lips twisting in disgust.

"Hot? That’s your line? That’s a cringe line if I’ve ever heard one."

The car slowed, wheels crunching against gravel.

The vehicle came to a stop before a looming, private estate.

It wasn’t grand like Vanessa’s residence, but it had a heavy, foreboding presence — tall gates, darkened windows, and walls too high to peek over.

The entire property was isolated, perfect for keeping prying eyes away.

Lucius floated lower, invisible above them, squinting as the masked driver pulled the car into a side entrance.

The garage door closed behind them with a low hum, swallowing them in.

Rita yanked Jose out by his collar.

His feet stumbled clumsily against the concrete floor.

"Come," she ordered.

Her voice was sweet on the surface, but there was a poisonous undertone that made Lucius’ skin crawl.

Jose resisted weakly, clawing at the doorway, his shoes scraping against the polished floor.

His voice cracked like a desperate child’s. "N-no, wait, please—"

"Come on~" she sang, dragging him toward the stairwell. "Don’t be shy~"

Her playful lilt was worse than shouting.

It made her sound like a predator coaxing prey.

Lucius winced, suppressing the urge to leave...

What the hell was actually going on?

’God, I almost feel sorry for Jose. Almost.’

They descended a set of narrow stairs, each step echoing with Jose’s dragging heels and Rita’s impatient tugs.

The deeper they went, the darker it became — until a faint red glow seeped up from below.

Finally, Rita stopped before a reinforced metal door.

She typed a code into the panel, the lock buzzing before the door hissed open.

Lucius’ space distortion followed them in.

What he saw turned his stomach.

The "factory" wasn’t filled with machines or tools.

It was filled with men.

Dozens of them.

They were stripped bare, every inch of dignity stolen.

Each man was locked into a brutal contraption that resembled an execution block, like the frames used to hold people still before beheadings.

Only this was worse.

Their heads and hands were clamped on one side, leaving their lower halves exposed on the other.

Their eyes were taped shut, their mouths gagged, their wrists bound in steel restraints.

Every single one of them bled from their crotch.

The floor was stained dark, sticky trails of red glistening under the dim lights.

Some men twitched weakly, others hung limp, unconscious.

Lucius’ stomach flipped.

’Jesus Christ...’

Rita’s grin widened as she dragged Jose toward an empty contraption.

He kicked and screamed, his voice muffled by fear.

"No! No, please! Stop!"

"Don’t beg," she whispered sweetly, pressing a hand to his cheek. "You’re being touched by your glorious Saintess. You should be honored."

Jose whimpered, eyes wide with tears. His whole body shook.

And then Rita kicked.

Her foot slammed directly into his groin with enough force that the crack echoed across the chamber.

Blood burst instantly, spraying across his thighs and dripping onto the floor.

Jose’s face twisted into raw agony, his scream muffled but desperate, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Lucius winced so hard his jaw ached.

Rita threw her head back, gasping.

"Ahhhh~ I just love the feeling!" she moaned, her voice breaking with sheer delight. "The sounds of your screams — it’s so gooooodddd~!"

Her eyes rolled back, her hands trembling as if she were reaching ecstasy from his pain.

Lucius blinked and instantly dispelled the warped space.

He couldn’t stomach more.

His breath came ragged, like he’d been the one suffocating.

"Oh fuck..." he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

His hand trembled as he pulled out his phone.

Without hesitation, he opened his messages, scrolled to Rita’s DM, and deleted the entire thread and blocked her account too.

"Yeah. I’m avoiding this bitch for the rest of my life."

No hesitation.

He feared for his nuts.

And then — snap!

He snapped space apart and teleported, as far away from this hellhole as possible.