The inside of their house was… surprisingly decent.
Actually, no — it was nice. Cozy, even. The kind of place that made you forget for a second that you lived in a world full of nightmare creatures and sociopathic humans.
The walls were lined with monster bones polished to a shine, the floorboards were dark and solid, and the scent of roasted meat lingered faintly in the air.
There was even a rug — stitched together from nightmare hide, but soft enough to look almost luxurious.
Effie dropped down onto a bed made from the same kind of monster skin, the frame creaking slightly under her weight. Sara followed, stretching out lazily and resting her head on Effie's lap like a spoiled cat.
Something about the whole setup screamed trap.
Maybe it was the way Effie's eyes followed me like a hunter sizing up prey, or maybe it was the fact that the only other exit in the room was behind them.
I cleared my throat and pretended to admire the architecture instead.
"Nice place you got here," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Thanks, cutie."
…Wait. Was that flirting?
I blinked. Was this how humans typically flirted? I've been hunted, dissected, resurrected, and impaled, but never flirted with.
Not by a human, anyway.
Did it matter? Probably not. But my brain still short-circuited trying to process it.
Effie tilted her head. "So how did you survive, anyway? What the hell happened to you?"
I sighed. "Well, let's see… After a nightmare creature dug me up, rebuilt my body, and resurrected me, I killed it. Survived six months in the Dark City. A priest showed up and tried to kill me, took my left arm in the process. My roommate—a fallen devil—cut me in half and threw me out. I stitched myself back together, killed a fallen beast in one hit, got jumped by fifty people, killed most of them, then got captured. And now I'm free because I scammed Gunlaug."
I left out the Garden of Resurrection part, obviously. Some stories are better kept buried.
Sara gave a slow whistle. "Wow, ugh, cutie… I never knew you were such a badass."
Effie smirked. "Careful now, Sara, you're gonna give him an even bigger head."
Sara didn't miss a beat. "Which one? I wouldn't mind seeing how much his second head can grow."
Both of them burst out laughing. I, on the other hand, decided that whatever that joke meant, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
Nope. Not touching that one.
Sara eventually got up, stretching like a big cat after a nap, and patted my shoulder on her way past. Her muscles flexed as she moved, and I realized with growing horror that she wasn't wearing her armor gloves. Or… any gloves.
My mind froze.
That wasn't right. She always wore armor. Always.
Then I looked back toward Effie — and immediately noticed her thighs weren't armored either.
…Oh no.
Oh no no no.
I was trapped. In a house. With two naked women.
Every neuron in my brain fired the same command: look away. immediately.
So I did. Eyes straight ahead. Focused on the wall. The beautiful, neutral, emotionless, completely non-sexual wall.
Sara's voice rang out behind me. "Hey, girlie — and cutie — what part of the chicken do you want?"
Effie yawned. "Dibs on the legs."
"Any part works for me," I said without turning.
Sara giggled. "Even the cock?"
Both of them exploded into laughter like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Meanwhile, I was standing there debating whether Sara was genuinely about to serve me the genitals of a nightmare chicken.
Thankfully, no. She handed me some of the breast instead.
It was actually decent. Not Seishan-tier cooking, but edible enough.
Food was food.
I was halfway through chewing when I heard Sara again.
"Hey cutie, why are you staring at the wall?"
I ignored her.
I was a man of principles. Dignity. Moral steel.
No womanly wiles would break me. I will not turn around no matter what.
I repeated that to myself three times. Out loud.
Then I heard Effie's voice: "Who wants the soul shards?"
Instant reflex. I turned before my brain could even stop me. "Me."
And that's when I saw them.
Not the shards.
Two pairs of beasts.
And I wasn't talking about the chicken.
There was a sharp thud as two fists met my face from opposite directions.
My nose erupted, and the last thing I remember seeing was the ceiling spinning before I hit the floor like a sack of bricks.
A TKO.
Down for the count.
As darkness closed in, I swear I heard Effie snort, "That's what you get for peeking, bloodsucker."
Then Sara, laughing so hard her words slurred: "Guess the Butcher finally met his match."
And that was how I fell asleep — bloodied nose, bruised pride, lying on the cold floor of their monster-hide home.
Honestly?
It was the best sleep I'd had in months.