Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 94: Cassandra’s conflict (R-18)

Chapter 94: Cassandra’s conflict (R-18)

Cassandra lay across her velvet-draped bed, her head gently resting on Shennong’s lap. The soft golden glow of candlelight painted dancing shadows across the walls of her private chamber, illuminating the two lovers locked in a moment of quiet contemplation. In her hand, a delicate crystal goblet shimmered with a deep red wine—the finest vintage she had in her cellars, personally selected not just for its taste, but for the memories she had always hoped to create with it. A night of warmth, of closeness, of shared souls.

But tonight, her heart was heavier than the richness of the wine.

"You could have lied to me," she murmured, her voice as fragile as the crystal in her hand. She did not look up, only closed her eyes and nestled her head further into the warmth of his thigh. "You could have hidden all of this from me... Why would you tell me these things?"

Her voice trembled with unspoken grief, and perhaps—just perhaps—a hint of betrayal.

Shennong sighed softly, his fingers threading tenderly through her silken hair. He lay back against the plush pillows, his gaze cast toward the ornate ceiling, as if seeking answers in the shadows above.

"I didn’t lie to you, Cassandra," he said, his voice low and even, yet carrying the weight of difficult truths. "Those orcs... they didn’t enter our dungeon by accident. They were being hunted—by humans. And now, the humans will chase them inside, and they will fall victim to what lies within. I can’t control who chooses to enter... or who survives once they do."

He paused, fingers still moving in gentle strokes across her scalp. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on him, yet a certain tension stirred in the air.

"It’s not that I wanted this," he continued, more quietly. "But this dungeon... it’s not a sanctuary. It’s a crucible. The strong come out forged by fire. The weak—well, they fall, as they always have. I didn’t design this world. I simply live in it."

Cassandra turned her face into his leg, trying to hide the flicker of emotion that passed through her. The truth was bitter, even more so than the blood-red wine on her tongue.

"Would you hate me," Shennong asked suddenly, his voice almost a whisper, "if I did something you didn’t like? Something... monstrous to others, but necessary to me?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his, surprised by the question.

"Would you hate me... if I killed humans?" he added. "If I told you I don’t hold them above others, even though I’m human myself? That to me, people are just people—beasts, elves, orcs, men—unless they’re close to me... like you."

Cassandra laughed, softly at first, then with a quiet, bitter amusement. She brought the goblet to her lips and sipped slowly before answering.

"As Baroness," she said, placing a delicate emphasis on the title, "I should probably throw this wine in your face, call you a heretic, and have you arrested for treasonous talk."

She paused. Then her smile turned softer, more vulnerable.

"But as Cassandra... I understand you. Maybe I even agree with you more than I should." She leaned up slightly, tracing her finger around the rim of her goblet. "I don’t want to betray humanity. I still feel like I owe something to my people... But I also just want to protect the ones I love. The people I’ve chosen. You."

The candlelight caught the glimmer of her eyes. There was conflict there—but also clarity.

Shennong smiled faintly, eyes glowing with a tender light. He took a long drink of his wine, then leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against Cassandra’s lips. Their mouths met, the taste of red wine mingling between them—tart, rich, and intoxicating.

And then, with lips still grazing hers, he whispered, "Then don’t worry. If there’s something you truly don’t like... I won’t do it. Not for pride. Not for gain. Not even for necessity."

He pulled back just a little, just enough to look into her eyes. "But you must understand, none of this—none of the death, the blood, the chaos—is of my doing. They choose to enter. The humans, the monsters. They know the risks. They come anyway. And those who survive... they come out stronger. Smarter. Better. That will benefit your barony far more than a handful of third-rate soldiers who would’ve died in battle anyway."

Cassandra exhaled slowly, setting her wine aside. "That’s a cruel thing to say," she whispered, though without conviction. Her hand reached up to touch his cheek.

Cruel—but true.

She had been raised to be a noble, a protector, a symbol of order and mercy. But here she was, in the arms of a man who made her question everything. A man who was different from the rest, but with truths that left deeper cuts. And she—she had begun to change under his influence. She had started asking questions, studying phenomena, dabbling in arcane knowledge like a curious researcher rather than a rule-bound noblewoman.

In the silence that followed, Cassandra realized something fundamental. This wasn’t a fall. It was a transformation.

"Birds of a feather, huh..." she muttered to herself.

"Hm?" Shennong raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing," she said, smiling faintly and leaning against him once more. "Just thinking how strange fate is. I was supposed to be the noble protector of my people. Instead, I ended up falling for the man they need to fear the most."

And with those words, Shennong knew this was his chance to show Cassandra that she had not made the wrong choice.

"Shall I show you why you should fear me?" Shennong asked, his hand slowly caressing Cassandra’s beautiful lips. Her eyes shifted suddenly, as if she already knew what was coming.

"What are you going to do, Shennong? Please don’t be too mean..." she said softly. But her eyes told a different story.

In front of her maids and her people, Cassandra always had to maintain the perfect image—graceful, composed, untouchable. But when she was alone with her man, when she was allowed to be vulnerable, she yearned to feel things no one else could make her feel... even if that meant being degraded, in ways only he could make intoxicating.

"I won’t, don’t worry. It’s nothing much. I have started learning about something recently and I need someone to get more experience on the subject. Your duty is to serve as my guinea pig."

"Really? That’s it? What is this something you speak of, darling?"

"You will understand soon enough."

"What? Is it going to hurt? Go easy on me, please."

"Of course not, silly. I would never hurt you. Anyway, you will see in a moment."

She relaxed somewhat when she heard that it would not be painful but was still tense since she didn’t know what was going to happen.

"Alright, let’s begin. Take off all your clothes."

"What? Is that really necessary?"

"No questions. Just do as you’re told, little guinea pig."

"Ugh."

She hesitated for a while longer before resigning herself and taking her clothes off after getting up from the comfortable lap pillow she was getting.

With a slow, deliberate breath, she rose, her movements graceful yet weighted with purpose.

Her fingers trembled slightly as they found the hem of her loose tunic, the fabric whispering against her skin as she lifted it. The garment slid upward, revealing the gentle curve of her hips and the smooth plane of her stomach, kissed by the faintest sheen of nervous anticipation.

As the tunic slipped over her head, her dark hair spilled free, cascading over her shoulders like a silken curtain. She let the fabric fall to the floor, a soft puddle at her feet, her moderate breasts now bare, their subtle swells catching the dim light with a delicate flush.

Her gaze flickered to him, a silent question in her eyes, but his steady presence urged her onward. Her hands drifted lower, brushing the waistband of the thong—a delicate creation woven by Shennong’s skilled handsupon Cassandra’s request to make her garment that he would like her to wear, its intricate threads a blend of silk and subtle enchantment.

The thong hugged her hips, its deep emerald hue a striking contrast against her skin and reminding somewhat of Shennong’s deep eyes, the fine lacework tracing patterns that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. She hooked her thumbs beneath the thin straps, her breath hitching as she began to ease them down.

The thong glided over the curve of her thighs, the fabric catching briefly against her skin as if reluctant to part from her. She stepped out of it, standing nude before him, her body a quiet symphony of vulnerability and strength. Her perky breasts, barely a gentle rise on her torso, seemed to shimmer with the heat of her own awareness, her skin prickling under his gaze.

"What breathtaking scenery! Let me partake in this luxurious feast," Shennong declared, rising from the bed. He approached Cassandra, gently grasping her from behind. His nose brushed against her fragrant neck, inhaling deeply before giving it a soft lick, eliciting a smile from Cassandra.

"Let’s get to it. Let’s see how much my Cassandra can endure...when I use these fingers of mine,"

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