NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 81

Chapter 81: You took what?!

She suddenly switched gears, giggling like a schoolgirl and calling out with cutesy, exaggerated gestures that had no fucking right to look that adorable.

“Wait, Matriarch! It was a joke! A joke!”

Artis practically shouted, his hands flying up in surrender.

She was testing him—pushing his buttons, tugging at his patience, and laughing while doing it. And fuck, it was working.

Every fiber of his being wanted to snap, but he decided to play along instead, plastering on the fakest smile he could muster.

‘I need to figure out this side of her… so I can plan my next move. Fucking hell, she’s unpredictable.’

He thought, grinding his teeth behind his grin.

“Ha! I was just kidding, Junior Apprentice.”

She said, waving him off like he was some little bug under her thumb.

“I’m not that heartless—or harmless—to call my husband. Oh no. He wouldn’t even ask why you offended me; he’d just execute you on the spot. Why would I want that?”

She turned to him with a teasing smile that could melt steel.

“After all, you’re my savior of dignity, right?”

Artis forced a laugh, though it came out more like a strangled cough. Her words, her smile, her whole fucking vibe right now—it was all too smooth, too calculated, and way too goddamn terrifying.

‘Something’s off.’

He thought, his unease creeping up his spine.

‘She’s carrying herself too differently… too playfully. What the fuck is going on with her? And why does it feel like I’m walking into a trap?’

Why the fuck was she acting like this? Artis’s brain spun like a hamster on crack.

This woman—this uptight, icy goddess from the novel, who was all “grace this” and “elegance that”—was now smiling and teasing like some mischievous vixen.

The fuck?!

She didn’t even know him that well! They’d barely exchanged more than awkward greetings before, and now here she was, acting like they’d shared a bottle of wine and swapped dirty secrets.

What was her angle?

‘Does she need something from me? No way. What could I possibly have that she’d want? My cock? Nah, she could have a hundred guys lined up for that. Power? Bitch already runs this place. So what the fuck is it?!’

Artis zoned out mid-thought, staring at her like a moron. He didn’t even realize he’d been gawking until the giggles stopped, leaving an awkward silence between them.

“What is it, Junior Apprentice? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Her voice snapped him back, but the teasing lilt in her tone made his stomach churn. She tilted her head, all faux innocence, and then poked a finger at her chin like she was seriously pondering.

“Ahh, I know,” she said, her lips curving into that sly, I-own-your-soul-now smile. “You’re wondering why I’m acting like this in front of you, aren’t you? Or maybe… you think I want something from you?”

Her words hit like a slap, and Artis froze.

?!

He felt like he was circling the drain.

She wasn’t just pulling his thoughts out of his head—she was fucking toying with him, like a cat batting around a mouse before going in for the kill.

And, honestly, if she could read minds, he wouldn’t even be shocked at this point.

No, she wasn’t a mind-reader. She was something worse: intelligent. Dangerously intelligent. The kind of smart that made his cock shrivel with fear and his brain scream abort mission.

Combine that with the fact he didn’t know shit about her beyond her “graceful matriarch” reputation, and she was starting to feel like a walking nuclear bomb in silk robes.

“W-what?! This junior would never!”

Artis sputtered, dropping into yet another frantic bow. His forehead practically grazed the floor.

“If you need my life, I’ll gladly sacrifice it! If you need something, anything, just ask—it’s yours!”

“Oh?” Her voice practically purred, a mix of amusement and menace. “You’ll give me anything?”

The way she said it sent a cold sweat dripping down his spine, pooling in the small of his back. She was plotting something—she had to be plotting something.

“Yes… anything.”

He choked out, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Fu fu fu~ I’ll remember those words, junior apprentice.”

She said with a giggle that somehow managed to sound both adorable and absolutely fucking terrifying. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she tilted her head.

“But then again, why did you ask about my shoulders earlier? Do you have some miracle medicine to relieve my pain? I’ve tried everything—countless medicines, endless tricks and tips, even massages. But nothing seems to work.”

Artis blinked, his brain short-circuiting at the word massages.

His eyes darted downward, widening as a sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips. From his bowed position, it looked like he was all humility and reverence, but oh no—his eyes weren’t on the floor.

They were locked on her legs. Long, creamy, milky fucking legs that practically screamed run your hands over me and leave some goddamn fingerprints.

Those thighs could crush a man’s head like a walnut, and Artis wasn’t sure if he’d die terrified or rock hard.

“There’s something I know,” he said, his voice steady despite the very unsteady thoughts in his head. “It’s a massage technique.”

The Matriarch raised a brow, unimpressed.

“Like I said, Junior apprentice, I’ve tried many massages. None of them worked—”

“This one’s different!”

Artis cut in, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“It’s the reward I got from the Inventory. It’s… special. I’m sure it’ll work, Matriarch.”

For a moment, silence hung between them. The kind of silence that made you question your life choices.

Artis braced himself for a slap, a scolding, or, worst of all, the executioner’s blade.

After all, in this fucked-up hierarchy, lower-ranking members were beheaded on the spot just for interrupting higher-ups.

Hell, if he’d pulled this with anyone else—Young Master Jin, his crazy sister, literally anyone—he’d be feeding worms by now.

But the Matriarch? She didn’t even flinch.

In fact, her lips twitched with the faintest hint of amusement.

Artis internally sighed with relief.

‘Holy shit, I just won the fucking gamble of my life.’

“You took a massage book from the Inventory? Huh?”

The Matriarch raised a perfectly arched brow, and for the first time since he’d met her, she looked genuinely taken aback.

Artis gulped, his gaze trailing upward like a horny idiot on autopilot. He started at her snowy, sinful legs, bare and impossibly smooth, leading up to the scandalously high slit in her gown.

His eyes strayed left, where the forbidden ether region teased him like a siren whispering come closer, you coward.

Above that, her flat, marble-carved stomach gleamed like the gods themselves had Photoshopped her existence.

And then—holy shit, the boobs. Her cleavage was so deep, so perfectly divine, it felt like staring at it for too long might unlock some ancient, tit-related curse.

His gaze kept climbing. Her elegant neck was next, then her angelic face, framed by silky, dark hair that made her look like some untouchable goddess.

And her lips? Plump, glossy, and utterly fuckable. Her eyes, clear and bottomless, were the kind that could probably see into his soul.

‘And oh fuck, they definitely see where I’ve been looking.’

“Uh… mmm… yeah… kind of…”

He muttered, his voice cracking like a teenager caught with a stolen porn mag.

Then she burst into laughter, clutching her stomach and doubling over. Since he was kneeling, her bending over like that felt less like a reprimand and more like a fucking gift from the gods.

Her silky hair cascaded down, brushing against his face, and her divine milfy breasts—oh sweet merciful heaven—were now so close he could practically feel their heat radiating through the air.

The jiggling was almost hypnotic, her robe struggling to hold them in like a dam about to burst under the weight of two absolutely perfect pillows of temptation.

Artis could see every tantalizing wobble, and the urge to thank her robe for its service was almost as strong as his urge to accidentally tug it loose.

“Haha! Haha! Junior apprentice, you are really something!”

She cackled, her voice vibrating through him like a sinful melody.

“To think you chose a massage instruction manual from a room full of legendary weapons and ancient scriptures!”

‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Matriarch. I’ll just sit here and soak in the view.’

He thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.

She smelled like heaven—like flowers blooming in moonlight, with a hint of danger. Meanwhile, his eyes were practically burning holes into the snowy peaks in front of him.

They were right there, soft and jiggling, looking like they’d melt in his hands.

They weren’t like Juliana’s, no. These were bigger, softer, gooier—practically begging to be milked.

His hands itched with desire, fingers twitching at the thought of squeezing them, kneading them, worshiping them like the sacred treasures they were.

‘Focus, Artis. Focus.’

He scolded himself. But how the fuck was he supposed to focus when the Matriarch’s tits were this close to popping out and declaring independence?

“So, how about it, Matriarch? Want me to massage you?”