Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 113: Girl’s Dorm House

Chapter 113: Girl’s Dorm House

As Shennong traversed his tunnel leading back to Christina’s dorm, his mind churned with thoughts. The conversation with Archmage Mandira still lingered, her cryptic warnings about Princess Maria’s sudden interest in Christina gnawing at him. "What’s her angle?" he muttered to himself, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. "She’s a princess, highborn and all, but taking a shine to Christina out of nowhere? That’s not just whimsy. There’s a game afoot."

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "Doesn’t matter. As long as she doesn’t hurt Christina, it’s none of my concern. Maybe the princess just needs a friend. Lonely at the top, I suppose."

His thoughts drifted to Christina, her earnest smile, her unyielding spirit. Daniel, too, had been hovering around her lately, his interest obvious. "He’s smitten with Christina or Maria, no doubt," Shennong chuckled. "Probably because Maria’s taken a liking to her. He might think getting close to Christina would help him."

The tunnel was a secret passage, one of the few ways Shennong build to access the female-only dormitory without drawing attention. Christina’s dorm was a sanctuary for noble daughters from distant lands, a place of opulence and strict rules. Shennong’s presence there was an anomaly. "This place," he mused, "it’s a fortress for these highborn ladies. A built-in bathhouse, no less. Luxury for them, necessity for their delicate sensibilities. But me? A man in a female-only dorm? I’m walking a tightrope here."

Male servants were forbidden, and most of the maids and attendants were women, brought by the students themselves. Shennong, as Christina’s companion, was not an exception, but he alawys sneak in so it didn’t really matter to him. "I guess rules don’t apply to me when I haven’t even seen the main door," he grumbled. "One wrong step, and I’m out. Or worse."

As he continued through the tunnel, a faint sound caught his ear—giggling, high-pitched and carefree, drifting from above. He froze, tilting his head. The sound was unmistakable, a chorus of feminine voices, light and teasing. "What in the world?" he whispered, curiosity piqued. He glanced up at the stone ceiling, realizing he was directly beneath the bathhouse. The luxurious bathhouse, reserved for the noble daughters, was right above him.

Instinctively, Shennong reached for the grappling hook at his belt. With a practiced flick, he launched the hook upward, securing it to a crevice in the ceiling. He pulled himself up, his movements silent, and pressed his ear against the cool stone. The voices became clearer, and his heart skipped a beat as he realized what he was overhearing.

In the bathhouse, steam rose in lazy curls, filling the air with the scent of lavender and rosewater. The noble daughters lounged in the warm, tiled pool, their laughter echoing off the marble walls. The bathhouse was a sanctuary within a sanctuary, a place where they could shed their formalities and speak freely.

"Oh, Lady Eleanor, you simply must tell us," said Lady Beatrice, her auburn curls pinned high, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "How do you manage to keep such a... generous figure? Your bosom is the talk amoung noble circle!"

Lady Eleanor, reclining against the edge of the pool, laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Beatrice, you flatter me! But I assure you, it’s all in the corsets. A well-tailored one works wonders. Though I daresay, your own assets are hardly lacking. That gown you wore at the gala? My, my, it left little to the imagination!"

The other girls tittered, splashing water playfully. Lady Sophia, a petite blonde with a sharp wit, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, come now, Eleanor. We all know you’ve been blessed by the gods themselves. I heard Lord Percival nearly tripped over his own feet staring at you last week!"

"Sophia!" Eleanor gasped, feigning scandal. "I’ll have you know I’m a lady of refinement. But... well, I shan’t deny it. A certain fullness does draw attention. Though I envy you, Beatrice. Your curves—those hips! They sway like a ship in a storm, and every gentleman in the room is caught in the tide."

Beatrice smirked, running a hand through the water. "You’re too kind, darling. But let’s not pretend you’re the only one turning heads. Lady Clara, don’t think we haven’t noticed how you fill out those riding habits. Your... posterior is positively enviable!"

Lady Clara, a statuesque brunette, laughed heartily, her voice rich and warm.

Their words were that of noble high birth. They didn’t use crude words like ass or boobs, but Shennong still understood they were apprecating each other’s naked bodies.

Beneath the bathhouse, Shennong’s face flushed a deep crimson. His ear pressed against the stone, he could hear every word, every teasing lilt in their voices. The conversation about their figures—bosoms, hips, and curves—sent a jolt through him. His breath hitched, and he shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of a tightening in his trousers.

"Shit!" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. "This... this is dangerous territory." His body reacted instinctively, a warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

The vivid imagery their words conjured—Eleanor’s generous bosom, Beatrice’s swaying hips, Clara’s enviable posterior—stirred something primal within him.

He hadn’t indulged in such thoughts in ages, his focus always on protecting Christina, navigating the politics of the academy, and staying out of trouble. But now, suspended in the dark tunnel, the sultry voices of the noble daughters painted pictures in his mind that he couldn’t shake. His grip on the grappling hook tightened, his knuckles whitening.

"Get a grip, Shennong," he scolded himself, his voice low and strained. "You’re better than this. Eavesdropping on noble ladies? You’re asking for a world of trouble." But the heat in his body refused to subside, and he felt a restless urge, a need that jerking off in the shadows wouldn’t satisfy. Their voices, so carefree and teasing, were like a siren’s call, pulling at him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. "They’re just talking," he reasoned. "Just... some girls being noble ladies. Nothing more."

"What am I doing?" he groaned, lowering himself back to the tunnel floor. He unhooked the grappling hook, his movements jerky, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions. "I need to get back to Christina’s dorm. Focus, Shennong. Focus."

But maybe because of Yenissa’s effect, once he get a boner it was really hard for him to calm down to the point it is almost painful for him. "Ugh! I don’t want to do this...but I guess jerking off is the way. I don’t want to go to a prostitue and get some wild disease."

He came up with a plan: a small hole in the wall, just enough to catch a glimpse. His hands trembled as he removed some stones with inventory skill.

"Almost there," he muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just a peek. No harm done."

The drill broke through, and a tiny beam of light spilled out. Shennong pressed his eye to the hole, holding his breath. The bathhouse was a haze of steam, but he could make out figures—slender, graceful, moving through the mist.

For a sexually active man like him who haven’t had sex in a while, it was like he was looking at the finest luxury food he can imagine.

His gaze darted around, taking in the scene, until it landed on someone familiar. Too familiar.

"Christina?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. There she was, in the corner, naked and laughing with a few other girls from noble houses. Her dark hair clung to her shoulders, water glistening on her skin as she splashed her friends. She looked so much like Cassandra that it felt wrong looking at her, despite her being simillar to his age.

But for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Without realizing it, Shennong’s body reacted. Yenissa’s past grooming habits had given him special succubus like smell. But now, caught in the moment, his emotions ran wild. A faint, sweet scent began to leak from him, seeping through the hole into the bathhouse.

Inside, the air shifted. One of the girls, a blonde with sharp eyes, paused mid-laugh. "What’s that smell?" she murmured, her cheeks flushing. She leaned closer to her friend, her movements slow, almost dreamy.

"It’s... nice," another girl said, her voice soft. She turned, her lips brushing against her friend’s shoulder. The two giggled, then froze, their eyes widening as they leaned in closer, lips meeting in a hesitant kiss.

Shennong’s jaw dropped. "What the—?" His hand, already moving on instinct, froze mid-motion. He was jerking off, caught up in the sight of Christina, but now the room was changing. Girls who’d been chatting moments ago were touching each other, their movements sluggish, like they were in a trance. Kisses deepened, hands wandered, and soft gasps filled the air.

"Oh no," Shennong hissed, panic rising. "It’s me. It’s the pheromones!" He’d lost control, just like Yenissa had warned him. His scent was driving them wild, and he hadn’t even noticed. His eyes flicked to Christina, who was still in the corner, her expression hazy. She swayed slightly, her hand reaching toward one of her friends, fingers brushing against the girl’s arm.

"No, no, no!" Shennong’s heart raced. He couldn’t let this happen—not to her. Without thinking, he slammed his shoulder against the wall, tearing away the loose panel he was peeking from. The wood splintered, and he stumbled into the bathhouse, his pants half-down, his arousal embarrassingly obvious.

The girls gasped, some snapping out of their daze, others still lost in the haze. Christina’s eyes met his, wide and unfocused. "Shennong?" she mumbled, her voice dreamy. "What... what’s happening?"

"No time!" he shouted, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack and wrapping it around her waist. He rushed to Christina, scooping her up in his arms. Her skin was warm, her body limp against his. "We’re getting out of here!"

The other girls barely noticed, too caught up in their own confusion. Shennong bolted out of the bathhouse, Christina in tow, her bare feet slapping against the stone floor. He didn’t stop until he reached her room, kicking the door open and locking it behind them.