Chapter 19 – No Means No

Shaelith turned and saw Benderast approaching. He smelled of moss wine and his gait was slightly unsteady, but those familiar eyes she knew from another life were shining with anticipation.

“So,” he said, his voice taking on a tone he probably thought was seductive. “Finally alone.”

Oh no.

He ran his fingers through his curly shoulder-length hair, which might have looked charming on another man, but on Ben it seemed terribly rehearsed, as if he had copied the gesture from a bad soap opera.

“You look absolutely stunning in that dress, by the way.” He stepped a little closer. “I, um, I mean, of course you always look good, but tonight you look especially good.”

Shaelith stood motionless.

Benderast seemed to interpret her silence as encouragement. His fingers wandered to the fastenings of his tunic, which he clumsily opened.

“You know,” he continued as the fabric slid apart, revealing his muscular torso, “I’ve been waiting for this all evening. Actually, ever since I saw you in that cage.”

Smooth as a cheese grater, Ben. Do you really think it’s a smart move to remind me of that now?

He leaned down toward her and tried to kiss her.

“No.”

She took a step back.

Benderast, who had already pursed his lips and half-closed his eyes, froze. “What?”

“No,” Shaelith repeated.

He straightened up with genuine confusion on his face. “What do you mean, ‘no’? I mean, the contract says we’re supposed to have children. So obviously we have to-”

“The contract does not oblige me to consummate it.”

“What?” Benderast blinked. “But… that can’t…”

He hastily pulled his copy of the contract out of his pocket and leafed through the document nervously. His lips moved silently as he read.

Shaelith waited.

The seconds stretched out. Benderast’s face went through a range of emotions. First disbelief, then confusion, then growing unease.

“It says here… ‘offspring within a reasonable timeframe’… and it even mentions a penalty if I don’t father some… but it doesn’t say anything about… I mean, how is that supposed to work if we don’t…”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Benderast lowered the document. “Three other Shaeravyn wanted to… they hit on me tonight, I mean! Three! And they were damn hot, believe me. I turned them all down! Because of you!”

“You were hit on by four Shaeravyn, actually, but you didn’t have to say no because of me.”

“I don’t understand, everyone says the Shaeravyn are easy.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Grimbart explained to me that I can’t expect… monogamy or romantic love. He also mentioned that you, well, have had many lovers.”

“So what?”

“Then why are you rejecting me of all people?” Benderast spread his arms demonstratively. “It just doesn’t make sense. I mean, look at me.”

He absentmindedly ran his hand over his perfectly defined six-pack, which was one of his most annoying habits.

“I’m… I’m handsome.”

Now. Shaelith heard the unspoken word as clearly as if he had shouted it.

“Your looks aren’t the problem,” she said coldly.

“Then what-”

“Have you ever even tried to TALK to me?” Shaelith’s voice was louder than she had intended, but now that the dam had broken, she could hardly control herself. “Have you ever once asked me if I WANTED to be your damn concubine? Before you bought me like a piece of livestock at the market?”

“I didn’t buy you, the old elf did-”

“You POINTED at me!” Shaelith took a step toward him and jabbed her finger at his chest. “In front of the assembled Council. Like a child who sees a toy in a store. ‘I want that one!’ Without even thinking for a second about what I think, what I want!”

Benderast recoiled, clearly surprised by her vehemence. “But I thought-”

“Did it hurt? You don’t seem to have much practice at it! You treat everyone around you as if they weren’t even real people, as if you were the only one in the world with thoughts, feelings, desires, or needs!”

“That’s not true!” He raised his hands defensively. “You don’t understand. Let me explain, please! I see things that others don’t see… oh God, how do I explain this, we call it a UI. I see information about people. Traits and statistics, glowing numbers and text, quests and stuff like that.”

He scribbled in the air like an idiot, trying to trace shapes for her that only he could see.

“Here, see? Here’s your name. And when I look up like this, I can see your traits. And over there is my quest log. That’s why I’m so strong, you see? That’s why I can do things that-”

“And what part of that gives you the right to treat people like pieces of furniture?”

“Well, some of them basically are… sort of!” The outburst seemed to surprise him. “I mean… not you, obviously, you’re a named character, but many, or even most… they’re like… dolls. To make the world seem fuller and more alive. Many even have generic names, like ‘Villager’ or ‘Shaeravyn Guard’. In my world, we call that an NPC, which stands for Non-Player Character. It’s a game, and there are players, and then there are NPCs, and they only exist to-”

“To what?” Shaelith interrupted him with a voice like ice. “The women we freed from the breeding kennels. Were they ‘NPCs’? Was it all just a game to them? Do you believe that? That they suffered there so that the world would seem more alive to you?”

Benderast opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“That’s not what I meant,” he finally muttered.

“Oh really, you didn’t?” Shaelith stepped closer, forcing him to look down on her. “I think that’s exactly what you meant. To me, it sounds like a very convenient explanation you came up with to justify why it’s okay for you to treat people like shit. Maybe you even believe it yourself.”

Silence.

Benderast’s jaw ground. “I’m not a bad person,” he finally said, but his voice sounded uncertain. “I’m not evil.”

“I didn’t say you were evil. I said you were acting like an asshole. There’s a difference.”

Benderast took a deep breath. “I… I think… I mean, I’m sorry, I… we got off on the wrong foot. I think you’re a person… obviously. I… oh God, how do I tell you this.”

“What?”

“You have a love interest tag!”

“And that’s relevant… why exactly?”

“Don’t you get it? My system identifies you as a love interest! That means we’re meant for each other! It’s… it’s fate!”

Jesus Christ, Ben, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.

“I’m not going to sleep with you just because you see some text in your head and-”

“But-”

“-I’m definitely not going to LOVE you just because your crappy ‘system’ says I should.” She crossed her arms. “If you need relief that badly, I can call a servant. Most of them would probably even be interested.”

Benderast’s face darkened. “Is this about that guy?”

“What?”

“The guy we’re supposed to rescue. Your… your lover. The one the warlock talked about.” He cleared his throat uncertainly. “Is it because of him? Is that why you reject me?”

“That’s typical stupid, small-minded human thinking.” Shaelith laughed joylessly. “Shaeravyn don’t work that way.”

“But then-”

“It’s not about Vyriz, okay? It’s about you. How thick is your skull that you just can’t get it through? It’s about how you behave and the fact that you haven’t treated me like a person even once. And even if that weren’t the case. I. Am. Not. Interested.”

Benderast stood there with his fists clenched for several seconds and then suddenly his anger was gone and he literally deflated.

“I… I lied. About myself and, um, who I was, in the world I come from. I wasn’t a popular athlete… I… I was bullied my whole life,” he said quietly. “Because I was ugly and… and fat. The fat nerd you throw into the lake so he can drown.” He swallowed hard. “I’m not mean to others. The others were mean. I… I am… I can’t… I’m not mean.”

This… this is not how it works, Ben.

“You know… I always dreamed of looking like this.” He pointed to his body. “My whole life. I thought if only I were pretty, if only I were strong, then people would finally like me, then… then girls would finally notice me. Then everything would be fine.”

His voice broke slightly.

“And now I have this body, I’m strong and handsome, and I saved you, damn it, I really did! And you…” He stared at her. “You still reject me.”

For a tiny, fleeting moment, Shaelith didn’t see the thoughtless and careless hero who believed this world was his personal playground, but once again the frightened, lonely boy who had designed D&D character sheets in the library because the real world was too cruel and for whom she had jumped into a lake and drowned when she was still called Jacob Williams.

But I can’t let his sob story throw me off balance.

She sighed and pointed to the door. “Again, by all means, go out and have your fun. There are women out there who are thrilled by your strong, handsome body and would love to sleep with you. But you won’t find any in here.”

Benderasts looked at her sadly and uncertainly for a moment, but then his expression changed and the vulnerability disappeared as if someone had flipped a switch.

“I’m so stupid,” he said slowly. “How could I have been so dumb?”

“Don’t beat yourself up, we all-”

“Of course!” He laughed with relief. “I can’t get you just like that. I have to earn your love and affection first! That makes total sense! It’s probably like in Bioware games, I have to complete the loyalty missions and make the right decisions and-”

He fell silent, his eyes fixed on a point only he could see.

“Ha! I knew it!” He grinned triumphantly. “Quest Update: ‘Romance Quest: Win Shaelith’s Heart’. Difficulty: Legendary!”

It was tragic, really. She had seen it, the moment when he almost understood, when the cracks in his worldview threatened to become so big that he would have had to ask himself whether perhaps it wasn’t just his appearance that had been the problem, and perhaps it hadn’t been just everyone else that was at fault with everything that was bad in his life.

And then he had shied away from it, and this notification had offered him a way out, a familiar framework into which he could escape.

He was so close. And then he decided he’d rather not understand.

“All right!” Benderast clapped his hands and was suddenly full of energy again. “Legendary difficulty, no problem. Challenge accepted!”

He grabbed several pillows and a blanket from the bed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t force anything. That would give me minus points, I know.” He spread the items out on the floor and arranged them into a makeshift bed. “I’ll sleep down here, like a gentleman.”

He gave a small bow, clearly proud of his chivalry.

Shaelith stared at him in disbelief.

I don’t care, I don’t give a damn, I’m too tired for this bullshit.

She turned away, slipped out of her dress, and let it fall carelessly to the floor. Nudity had long since ceased to be an issue for her. She was a Shaeravyn, damn it, and she certainly wasn’t going to change her habits just because this idiot was sleeping in her room now.

She noticed Benderast hastily averting his gaze, his face reddening.

For someone who wanted sex so badly just a few minutes ago, you’re pretty flustered by a little nudity.

Without another word, she slipped under the silk blanket and activated a glyph to dim the mushroom lights in the room a little more until it was almost dark. She heard Benderast settle down on the floor and toss and turn for a while.

Shaelith lay in the darkness and stared at the ceiling.

Although she was tired, it was difficult to relax. She was frustrated by the absurdity of what her life had become. She was afraid for Vyriz, who was hanging somewhere in chains, and worried about the mission that lay ahead. And angry at that snoring idiot on her floor who thought her ‘no’ was just a game mechanic to be overcome.

But at some point, without realizing it, she drifted off to sleep.

Then came the dream. But no, not necessarily a dream. It was something else.

Mycelium networks spread out in the darkness, endless webs of pulsating light that branched and intertwined like the synapses of a gigantic brain. She drifted through this dark expanse, bodiless, and felt the slow breathing of… something.

Zinvere’s pattern appeared before her, that strange, archaic braid that the old matriarch had woven into her hair. But here, in this intermediate realm, it was not formed from hair, but from living mycelium. It pulsated, grew and spread across her field of vision.

And this time she understood.

Not completely, at least not in words, but the meaning blossomed in her mind like a flower opening to the moonlight.

Listen.

It was about the depths, something beneath the familiar caves, something that slept, but not as deeply as before. Something that was stirring.

Then she felt it.

A powerful, ancient presence that was not awake, but also no longer completely asleep. This presence was in a twilight state between dream and awakening, just like herself. It noticed her, was aware of her.

Like an eye opening sluggishly in the darkness.

Shaelith sat up.

The room felt too small, as if the walls were closer than before, and the dim glow of the mushrooms suddenly seemed eerie to her.

Benderast continued to snore on the floor.

She placed her hand on the wall and the living mycelium pulsed gently beneath her fingers, as always, but now she imagined she could feel something more, a hint of trembling, like a distant rumbling.

Zinvere’s words came to mind. Was this what she always talked about?

The deep mycelium whispers.