Chapter 6 Net

"Wait a moment, hold on. You're talking about a different path, aren't you? Please tell me it's not about getting entangled with that young girl. She's so young that she could very well be your great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter a trillion trillion trillion trillion trillion trillion trillion times over," Lucas Frost blurted out, his astonishment palpable. 

His anticipation had been for grand revelations, insights that unraveled the mysteries of ascension, shattering the barriers of heaven. 

Though he couldn't attain it himself, he found solace in simply observing from a distance. 

Yet, here he stood, faced with what seemed like a spectacle or, even worse, an unforeseen debacle of tricking young girls into bed. 

The unexpected turn in our op mc's intentions had left Lucas utterly bewildered, grappling with a sudden shift from the profound to what appeared to be an incredulous or chaotic and lewd affair.

"The young woman you speak of is already 20 years old, perfectly capable of making her own decisions. And need I remind you, Lucas, you're not obligated to stay if my actions displease you," our protagonist replied firmly, rising to approach the maiden.

* * *

Willow Thornehill, a humble soul nestled within the bosom of the village, embodied the essence of uncelebrated grace. 

She stood as a testament to the virtue of simplicity, devoid of the innate talents that marked the path of cultivators or the finesse required by the blade and bow. 

Instead, she wove her significance into the tapestry of their community through tireless efforts dedicated to the welfare of both the village and her own kin.

Her gifts lay rooted in the nurturing of the fertile land that sustained their livelihoods. With a deft touch and an innate understanding of the earth's whims, she coaxed abundance from the soil, ensuring the prosperity of their modest hamlet. 

But her true marvel emerged within the confines of the kitchen, where her culinary alchemy transformed the mundane into the extraordinary. 

Each dish bore the imprint of her love, transcending mere sustenance to evoke emotions and stir memories within those who partook.

Yet, amidst her practical talents lay a magnetic quality—an ethereal allure that belied her unassuming demeanor. 

Ebony strands cascaded in elegant waves around her countenance, a flawless visage that retained its porcelain fairness, resisting the sun's unrelenting caress. 

Her beauty was undeniable, a captivating aura that drew every gaze and stirred the hearts of the village's men. 

However, amid the constant admiration, Willow safeguarded the sanctity of her body, her heart only beginning to entertain the tender whispers of love and the vibrant hues of romance.

The nascent longing within her surged to life the moment she laid eyes upon the arrival of a white-haired, enigmatic stranger, whose presence graced their village a mere week ago. 

In the annals of her imagination, she had never fathomed the existence of someone of such rarefied good looks within their realm. 

His arrival seemed to herald a disruption in the tranquil rhythms of their everyday existence, stirring emotions and yearnings that she had yet to fathom or articulate.

In the piercing gaze of our protagonist, Willow discerned more than mere physical attraction. She sensed an overwhelming confidence that resonated with the fortitude of the strong —a commanding presence born of resilience and unwavering character. 

This was the reason why she and the other maidens often congregated just outside the hut of our protagonist, yearning for even a passing glance from the captivating stranger. 

Despite their collective desire, a veil of timidity shrouded their actions. 

None dared to bridge the gap between curiosity and interaction, held back by the weight of the village chief's cautionary words and the lingering uncertainty surrounding these mysterious visitors from distant lands. 

Yet, a serendipitous turn of events unfolded as the man of interest began a deliberate stroll in their direction.

"He's making his way toward you, Willow!" The excited whispers rippled through the cluster of women. Amongst them, Willow's presence resonated uniquely. 

She possessed an effortless grace that set her apart, her intrinsic allure not merely skin-deep. 

Her figure, adorned with bountiful curves and a silhouette that effortlessly commanded attention, seemed to draw every wandering gaze. 

It wasn't just her physical attributes—her aura held an indefinable charm, a magnetic pull that captivated the attention of those around her.

Willow's beauty, however, was more than a mere composite of physical traits. 

Her allure lay in the delicate balance of modesty and grace, a demeanor that transcended the mere physicality of her appearance. 

Her gentle nature and unassuming kindness woven into the fabric of her being only accentuated her appeal. 

The whispers among the maidens often revolved around her, not just for her outward charm but for the warmth and compassion she exuded effortlessly.

As the enigmatic stranger approached, the air crackled with anticipation. Willow's heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. 

The prospect of his attention held a tantalizing allure, mingled with the fear of stepping beyond the boundaries set by tradition and societal expectations.

The man's approach seemed deliberate, each step carrying an air of confidence that hinted at stories untold and experiences unshared. 

As his gaze scanned the gathering, it seemed to linger momentarily on Willow, causing a subtle blush to grace her cheeks. 

It wasn't solely the pull of her physical attributes that caught his attention but the essence of something deeper—an intangible quality that beckoned him closer.

Amidst the subtle dance of intentions, our protagonist also harbored the task of fulfilling a crucial system mission. 

As time progressed, the protagonist approached, closing the distance to where Willow stood, a beacon of charm among the gathering.

"Good day, ladies. My name is Nero. Might I have the honor of learning your lovely names?" Our op mc's introduction carried a warmth that seemed directed solely towards Willow, his eyes unwaveringly fixed upon her amidst the group of women. 

The other maidens, eager to engage, exchanged pleasantries and shared their names, their voices tinged with excitement at the presence of the enigmatic stranger. 

Yet, amid their conversation, the protagonist's focus remained unwaveringly anchored on Willow. As the introductions unfolded, our protagonist found the opportune moment to steer the conversation toward a more decisive end. 

"Miss Willow, your charm precedes you. Would you be so kind as to accompany me on a tour of the village? Despite my week-long stay, I feel as though I've barely scratched the surface of experiencing the true essence of this captivating place," our protagonist proposed, his words a subtle blend of genuine curiosity and an underlying determination.

The air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as the request hung in the air, the pregnant pause echoing the pulse of anticipation. 

Willow, the epitome of grace and composure, regarded the protagonist with a faint glimmer of surprise dancing in her eyes. 

Her initial hesitation ebbed away as a gracious smile graced her lips, a mingling of curiosity and intrigue lighting up her features.

"Of course, Master Nero. I would be delighted to be your guide," Willow replied, her voice carrying a subtle melody of acceptance and an unspoken curiosity. 

The gathered maidens exchanged knowing glances, their whispers laced with excitement at the unfolding prospect of the village's most enchanting maiden accompanying the mysterious visitor on a tour.