Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 25: Jackpot

To tell the truth, Cecilia hadn’t planned on using Oathran’s name as a divine cudgel to secure her alliances. It had been a spur-of-the-moment piece of blasphemous wit. But the man now looked so visibly, insufferably proud of himself that she didn’t have the heart to tell everyone she’d been joking.

Besides, even as a joke, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Oathran was the reason she’d been crowned Saintess seventeen years ago. He was the reason she was still alive now. His presence in her life was the very definition of fate.

So, really... was it such a lie to say she served him as her ’god’?

Yes, she wanted their bond to be temporary, just like he did. Yes, his grand plan culminated in her ripping his heart out. But this... thing between them was still a relationship. And being bonded to him, for all its complications, had been a five-star experience.

Her only real complaint was the way he flirted like a man with no tomorrow—well, because, technically, he didn’t plan on having one. He had zero reservation!

"Saintess... hold my hand..."

"Saintess, if you kiss me first, perhaps I’d pass all your teasing for today as chaste."

"Mm, yes. You are more beautiful than even the tropical flowers in this jungle."

"Saintess, look this way..."

"Since they had asked us to stay for the night, just do as they say, Saintess," the man said. "We do have matters to follow up on in the morning."

Cecilia looked away, feigning interest in a nearby vine. "You should ask them for another room."

"Hmm, I see," he mused, not missing a beat as he walked beside her, his gait somehow still both majestic and infuriatingly composed. "You tease but you won’t bite. You order but you won’t eat."

Well, she couldn’t say anything to that. He had her there. They were both playing with a fire they’d agreed to extinguish one day. The only difference was, one of them wanted a clean, clinical separation, while the other wanted one last, glorious ride before the end.

Cruel.

If he knew the clinging warmth growing inside her heart, would he still insist on dying? Or would it just become another life sentence for him, a new, suffocating responsibility to stay alive for her sake?

"It’s weird..." Oathran muttered, breaking the silence. "Since yesterday morning, my chest has felt... wrong."

Cecilia turned to him, her eyes instantly filling with concern.

Oathran, as if he’d been waiting for this exact reaction, triumphantly smiled, making her narrow her eyes and look away again with a huff. He chuckled. "I am being serious this time. Since yesterday morning, I’ve been feeling a peculiar discomfort in my chest."

He placed a hand over his sternum. "It feels... hollow. And my heartbeat feels strained, as if it’s working against a great pressure. Perhaps I am imagining it, but... is this what it feels like to manually pump your blood with telekinesis, without a heart?"

Wait.

Something was amiss.

"Don’t mind me, Saintess. Perhaps I’m just imagining things," he continued, his tone light. "It feels the same kind of out-of-body sensation I get when I see you eat. It’s as if my own mouth is tasting what you’re tasting. Curious, isn’t it?" The man hummed, utterly oblivious.

Cecilia stopped walking so suddenly she nearly tripped.

"System!" she screamed internally, her mind reeling. "Could it be—is Sense Sharing a two-way thing?!"

DING!

[Correct! Your Ranked Bond is a mutual connection between bonded mates! All shared senses flow both ways!]

"WHAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU LEAD WITH THAT CRITICAL PIECE OF INFORMATION?!"

The mental scream was so loud she was surprised it didn’t shatter the jungle canopy, and before she could stop herself, her hand flew up and she slapped her own forehead with a resounding thwack.

Oathran flinched back, startled. Their jaguar escorts exchanged uneasy glances too, clearly wondering what terrible argument had just erupted between the divine couple.

Aw... shucks...

How could she, Cecilia Araceli, not think of this herself? The bond was a two-way street! Stupid, stupid Cecilia!

But before she could spiral further into self-recrimination, a gentle hand grasped her chin, pulling her face upwards. All the teasing playfulness had vanished from his expression, replaced by a deep, complicated worry that made her breath catch.

"My Saintess," Oathran said, his voice low and stripped of all its usual humor. "What’s wrong?"

Cecilia’s hand clenched at her side. This man... thanks to their bond... had been dragged into the deepest, darkest corners of her existence. Her dying moments, the ghost of a violating bond, the weight of her revenge, her emotional baggage... and now, even the hollow, mechanical sensation of her own heartless body.

He was feeling all of it.

"Oathran..." she began, her voice as light as the wind blowing between them.

"Do you truly want to lay with me?"

After learning how a bond normally consumed a beast’s instincts, she understood the monumental restraint he had exercised. Perhaps the least she could offer, the one pure thing she could give, was a moment of pleasure.

The man, however, didn’t react with the hunger she expected. Instead, he frowned, his gaze searching hers.

"I do," he answered, his voice deep and solemn. "I always have. As I said, any sane man would. But you know I am insane." He held her chin firmly, forcing her to see the truth in his eyes. "You shouldn’t give an insane man what he wants."

If she did, it would cure him. It would shatter the carefully constructed "insanity" that let him deny his own desires.

He would become sane, and a sane man would want everything. Her heart, her future, a life he believed the world would never permit him to have.

Keeping himself "insane" was his only way to deprive himself of what he wanted most. Always. Forever.

"But what if I say I’m the one who wants to lay with you?" she asked, pushing back against his self-imposed exile.

But of course, the man swiftly deflected. "You don’t know that. You’re not sure," he said. "Perhaps you’re just imagining things."

This man...

Fine.

Let’s play by his rules.

"You’re right. I know. Maybe I’m just imagining things," she conceded, her voice gentle. She leaned in slightly, her sea-glass eyes holding his captive. "Would you let me make sure and find out?" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

She watched as the falter came. That tiny fracture in his ironclad composure and a flicker of want in the depths of his misty grey eyes.

Jackpot.