Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 983: Unexpected Opportunity

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but…” Quinlan began, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. His face lived up to his criminal alias in full right now.

“Doesn’t this mean we can get Jasmine right now?”

“…”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Confusion painted a few faces. Feng tilted her head. Seraphiel blinked. Serika’s brow arched.

But then…

Lucille’s crimson lips curved upward.

Her eyes lit with a fevered glint. “My bastard of a father basically betrayed the finance head, right…” she murmured, the pieces clicking together. Her grin widened, becoming manic and sharp. “After all, he decided to sell off his prisoners…”

“Right…” Seraphiel muttered, her gorgeous blue, elven eyes narrowing. “Which means even if Aurelion wants to use Mother Dearest as blackmail material to keep Jasmine docile and by proxy us as well…”

“He can’t” Ayame finished. Her voice was electric as she rose from her seat. Her hand moved without thought to her katana. “She’s out of his reach now.”

Aurora’s lashes fluttered. “Not even the finance head himself can demand her execution now… much less a lowly subordinate like Aurelion.”

“Blossom doesn’t understand much!” came the less certain voice from the corner, “but does this mean she can finally free her friend?!” Blossom’s ears twitched in hope and excitement.

A warm hand reached behind.

Vex, still lounging in Quinlan’s lap like a queen claiming her throne, extended one arm and stroked Blossom’s soft, dogkin ears. Her voice was sweet venom. “Oh, darling. That greedy old man is in so much trouble right now…”

The temperature in the room dropped and rose at once.

A storm had gathered in silence.

Quinlan’s fingers flexed against Vex’s waist.

Then, without a word, he tightened his grip and effortlessly lifted her with one hand, rising to his feet in a single, controlled motion.

The others straightened instinctively, but he gave them no time.

A gate bloomed to life in front of him. He stepped through it. The light of the lounge vanished behind him.

His eyes burned.

The moment he crossed, the crimson glow of his [Primordial Eyes] overtook his harmonized elemental eyes. It was an evolution gained during his class ascension into the Primordial Villain. They pierced through the darkness.

What they saw made his soul clench.

The cell was carved from stone slick with moisture. The stench of filth and rot clung to every surface. There were no sigils of protection here. No light. Just a single barred opening that barely let in air, and even that reeked of rust.

Chains clinked somewhere in the darkness. A rat scurried past his boot. A worm twisted inside a bowl of long-spoiled food.

And in the furthest corner of this pit…

Curled up like a forgotten criminal, clutching her knees to her chest, wrapped in nothing more than a torn, stained sack…

Was Jasmine.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, pale skin blotched and chilled. Her once silky, brown hair was matted against her face and neck. Her breath was shallow. Her presence, flickering. Yet she didn’t cry. She didn’t sob.

She just… sat there.

Alone.

Broken.

And the worst part?

Just moments ago, she had been speaking to him. Her voice was cheerful, helpful, and bubbly. She had laughed at Felicity’s panicked math scramble. She had offered solutions and corrections with her usual, casual attitude.

All while this had been her reality.

Because she knew.

She knew he and the rest of her friends would feel utterly terrible about it if they were aware of her reality.

And so she lied.

She painted them a picture of calm and strength, so they could focus. So they wouldn’t be burdened.

So they wouldn’t suffer for her sake.

Quinlan moved.

He crossed the cell in two long strides and dropped to his knees beside her.

No words were exchanged.

No questions were thrown her way.

He just wrapped his arms around her trembling form and pulled her into his chest.

Jasmine gasped.

For a moment, she didn’t breathe. Her whole body froze.

But then… her nose caught his scent. Her heart felt his warmth. She knew exactly who this man was.

And so her trembling began to fade.

Her forehead rested against his chest. Slowly, gently, her arms lifted and curled around his back.

She didn’t cry.

She just held him.

And for the first time in a long, long while… the shaking stopped.

“You came…” she whispered at last, breath tickling the fabric of his shirt. “Why are you here? My mother…”

’So she didn’t realize either…’

He leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, those tired, soulful eyes, and said with certainty:

“Aurelion can no longer hurt her.”

Jasmine stared at him, stunned.

She wasn’t a stupid woman one bit; in fact, she was incredibly intelligent. It’s just that the realization hadn’t dawned on her due to her situation as well as extreme fright regarding her mother’s fate.

But then it clicked.

Her lips parted.

Her breath caught.

She snapped her head up, eyes wide with disbelief.

“I’m free…?” she whispered. Her voice trembled now instead of her body, but not from cold.

“After all these years…?”

Her fingers tightened against the fabric of his clothes.

Quinlan’s eyes didn’t leave hers.

“You are.”

Jasmine’s breath hitched again, and then she exhaled in a quiet, quivering rush. But before her tears could fall, he moved.

Gently, reverently, Quinlan reached for the filthy sack that clung to her frame. It wasn’t even clothing anymore. Just a remnant. A symbol of her extremely unjust treatment. With careful hands, he undid it and pulled it away.

And for the first time… she stood bare before him.

But there was no lust in his gaze.

No flicker of desire.

Only sorrow.

Only fury.

Only quiet, restrained care.

Not for a second did his eyes linger in any place they shouldn’t. His gaze met hers and never drifted.

“You are free,” he repeated softly, supporting her as he helped her to her feet.

Her legs buckled almost immediately.

But Quinlan was ready for it.

With a pulse of power, he summoned a set of smooth, warm stones behind her, shaped into a seat and hand-rests by his command of [Earth]. She sat shakily, barely keeping upright.

Then came the next spell.

Quinlan raised his hand, and with a slow, practiced motion, drew water from his mana. It was impossibly clean and clear, a state one couldn’t find even in the freshest springs. He brought it to her skin in delicate streams.

He used fire in conjunction with water so that it would never feel cold. Cold was the last thing Jasmine needed right now.

The water warmed instantly, washing her grime-caked body. He didn’t scrub. He didn’t force. He just guided the magic to cleanse her skin, watching as the filth of months was washed away.

He then used his other hand to summon a hovering ball of fire, illuminating the room.

“Sera, please.”

A pair of bare feet echoed into the stone cell.

Seraphiel emerged from the shadows illuminated by his summoned fire.

The elf knelt beside Jasmine and extended her hands, which she summoned a staff using her Dawnbringer class’s properties.

Warm, white-gold light poured over Jasmine’s skin. Her shallow breath steadied, her pallor began to improve, and the weakness in her limbs eased, though only slightly.

“Well… On the bright side…”

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