Valkyrie Flavor Tasting Guide

Then, in front of everyone, she naturally patted the remaining "milk" onto her smooth, delicate cheeks, which were full of youthful charm, just like ordinary toner.

Then, an abnormal atmosphere spread through the space.

Chapter 210 The Strongest Instructor of Destiny Forced to Give Up

After enjoying the special breakfast filled with the "essence of love," the seemingly "normal" day in the cabin truly begins.

Today, these maids' "job" is to clear the snow and chop firewood—on this snowfield that has never melted for thousands of years, this is the most basic and important daily labor for maintaining life.

Of course, this is Lu Mo's reason for wanting to manipulate Ragnar more effectively—after all, such a thing is not actually necessary.

He only needed to sit comfortably on the porch, holding a steaming cup of extra-strong cocoa served by Yu Tu himself.

The one responsible for these physical tasks was naturally the "new member" who had just joined the "family" and still needed to be properly "learned".

"Heave-ho... Heave-ho..."

Ragnar gritted his teeth, raising the axe high again and again before bringing it down with a fierce blow.

Sweat streamed down her handsome face, soaking the hair on her forehead and clinging tightly to her skin.

For a Valkyrie, this job wouldn't be difficult, but for her now, it might not be.

Of course, her outfit seemed completely out of place in this labor scene filled with a sense of primal power.

The black and white maid outfit, which was full of shame, was already completely soaked with sweat from her vigorous exercise.

The fabric clung tightly to her body, revealing her strength and beauty in its entirety.

Beside her, Cocolia, who was also being "punished" by being "supervised," appeared to be in an even more...appalling state.

Unlike Ragnar's forced labor, which was filled with resistance and humiliation, Cocolia's face wore a morbid smile full of satisfaction and pleasure.

She didn't chop wood; her "task" was to ensure Ragnar's "work efficiency."

In a sense, her current job is actually quite to her liking.

To openly and honestly satisfy some of her little desires.

What she held in her hand was, of course, a specially made leather whip.

Whenever Ragnar's chopping movements faltered even slightly, she would not hesitate to lash out with her "tool," striking hard beneath the ridiculously short "skirt" that Ragnar was slightly jealous of.

She was jealous not of her figure, but of her constitution.

With one or two people so physically strong, if she hadn't cheated a little, she would probably have been the one most likely to freeze to death in that outfit.

"—Hurry up, Miss Ragnar," her voice trembled with suppressed emotion and a hint of unease, yet it was also troubling, "Master's patience...is quite limited, you know."

Looking at his "predecessor" who had been completely ruined, Ragnar felt a strange sense of unease for some reason.

Cocolia, though also a woman subdued by that man, and who also called him master, behaved differently from the others... well, how should I put it?

It's hard to pinpoint exactly where the differences are.

Sweat dripped down Ragnar's chin and landed on the cold axe handle.

She stopped what she was doing and wiped her forehead with her sleeve.

Sweating in this kind of weather feels good, but it's uncomfortable once your body cools down.

Finally, unable to resist, he spoke in a tentative tone, in a low voice.

"Have you... always served him like this?" Ragnar stopped working and realized something was off.

Cocolia's "treatment" was a little different.

Although that Mistelin was even worse.

However, the orders Cocolia received and her reactions were indeed different from the others.

Her ambiguous question was like a pebble thrown into a lake.

Cocolia seemed not to hear, still engrossed in her "work" until she grew a little tired of it and slowly came back to her senses.

There is no other reason.

Although she no longer plays villains, the former antagonistic relationship still plays a role.

Being able to defeat the teacher of a Valkyrie of the Destiny S rank is a truly unique and exhilarating experience.

In a way, perhaps she played a part in making things go so smoothly for me back then?

“Serve?” She turned her head, a hint of confusion in her hazy purple eyes, as if she didn’t understand what Ragnar was saying.

"Isn't this just what we should do? It's an honor for us to be used by our master. Why use such strange words?"

"...Honor?" Ragnar's heart sank. Was this all just his imagination? "Why? Is being tortured an honor?"

Is she the same as everyone else?

"Oh dear," Cocolia stopped what she was doing upon hearing this. She turned her head and looked at the "junior" who was still "stubbornly resisting" with her equally dreamy and infatuated purple eyes. A smile full of pity and sympathy appeared on her face, like that of a "veteran".

“You can’t say that, Miss Ragnar,” her voice was like the sweetest poison, “This is not torture, but… the master’s most merciful… grace to us ‘disobedient’ children.”

"The reason you are still in pain now is simply because... you have not yet truly understood the ultimate joy contained in this grace."

This statement is largely true—after all, it's based on Cocolia's personal experience.

In the past few days, Lu Mo has used some slightly excessive methods to enjoy her—she is still tired and in pain in several places.

But she was genuinely happy; a new world had opened up for her.

For example, fruits or something.

"—If you come a few more times, you'll soon...become just like us."

This bizarre and insane "advice" left Ragnar's mind blank once again.

However... just as Ragnar was about to be overwhelmed by the disappointment brought about by this intense cognitive shock.

A seemingly incongruous and extremely subtle "loophole" punctured this seemingly flawless "illusion".

"us"?

Ragnar's pupils contracted sharply.

not right...

If Cocolia was truly brainwashed and her cognition reshaped like Beatrice and Sirin, viewing "serving her master" as the only truth, then in her discourse, the only ones representing "comrades" could be Beatrice and Sirin, who also belonged to the "slave" camp.

She could not possibly, and had no reason to, include herself, an "outcast" who was still "resisting" her master and had not yet been completely "tamed," in the word "we," which is full of a sense of collective belonging.

This statement, seemingly an attempt to "persuade," is actually more like a "reminder" filled with probing and hints.

She wasn't brainwashed!

Where is the difference?

Ragnar was somewhat puzzled.

"Master, the firewood has been chopped. Is there anything else you need?"

"Then let's play together." Lu Mo pointed to the room.

Beatrice and Sirin, just like two of the most discerning hounds, now wore exquisite collars made of the finest leather around their necks.

Lu Mo, on the other hand, sat leisurely on the sofa like a true "master." In his hand, he wasn't holding any "treasure," but rather... a soft cat toy, full of "training" connotations.

Every now and then, he would gently shake the wooden stick with the colorful feathers attached in the air.

At such times, the two "pets" who were originally "seriously" searching for something would, as if summoned by some absolute command, rush towards their "master" who was full of "grace" and "reward" with perfect tacit understanding.

Cocolia, on the other hand, joined the "game" without any hesitation. She too put on a collar and got down on all fours.

However, his actions were far less enthusiastic than the other two; he simply sniffed around symbolically in the corner of the room, taking his time.

Ragnar instinctively tried to back away, but was firmly locked onto by Lu Mo's playful gaze.

“Miss Ragnar,” his voice carried an undeniable command, “what are you standing there for? Hurry up and… join us?”

Ragnar froze. She knew she had no right to refuse. She could only suppress her humiliation and resistance, and don the collar that symbolized "enslavement" as well.

However, her gaze was fixed on Cocolia, trying to find clues in every subtle movement she made to confirm her guess.

Time quickly passed and it was already afternoon.

That farcical "game" is long over.

Ragnar, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten a little used to this kind of life. She even offered to do the duties of a maid—such as cleaning Lu Mo's bedroom.

This should have been a humiliating and resentful task. However, at this moment, Ragnar's face showed no sign of resistance.

In her heart, there was only one incredibly clear and unwavering goal—

She was going to visit her teammates. She needed to make sure they were safe.

To achieve this goal, she must... please the man in front of her who holds the fate of all of them in his hands.

Yes, only in this way will there be a chance.

Of course, that alone is not enough.

Simply cleaning Lu Mo's room doesn't demonstrate her obedience.

As Lu Mo leaned back comfortably on the sofa in the bedroom, he scrutinized her with a gaze full of scrutiny.

Ragnar took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging shame within her. Slowly, she unbuttoned her maid outfit.

I won't take it off, and I won't put it on.

She slipped it down to her shoulders just right, revealing the firm yet delicate skin that was typical of a Valkyrie.

That appearance was both like a bra strap that had accidentally slipped off, and a silent, suggestive invitation.

Then, she picked up the rag in her hand, but instead of wiping the furniture immediately, she, like a gymnast warming up, raised her long and shapely legs at an amazing angle in front of Lu Mo and pressed them against the wall, making a perfect, impeccable, flexible and beautiful "splits" stretch.

She even deliberately pressed her powerful and curvaceous body slowly towards him.

The part that was covered by the maid's skirt was also partially revealed by this provocative gesture.

"Master... is this alright?"

She didn't let Lu Mo see anything he shouldn't have seen, but it was precisely this half-concealed act that made her more pleasing to him.

After completing this set of "professional" "preparatory activities," she slowly lowered her body.

“Master,” her voice carried a perfectly timed slight pant from “warming up,” yet it sounded irresistibly alluring, “the services to come might be a little inconvenient. To prevent… from getting your shoes dirty…”

She didn't finish her sentence; instead, she directly demonstrated her intentions through her actions.

Like the most docile baker, she slowly approached the man who was watching her with amusement, her posture full of flattery and submissiveness.

Then, quite naturally, he pressed his smooth, healthy-skinned back tightly against his feet, which were also clad in military boots.

Yes, it wasn't about helping Lu Mo take off his boots.

"—Please...use me as a footrest."

Lu Mo felt the elastic, warm "living carpet" beneath his feet with great interest. He even deliberately moved his toes and gently stepped on the powerful and beautiful back.

Ragnar's body trembled violently, and he almost cried out in pain.

She had no experience with maids, so of course she would feel uncomfortable.

But her face still maintained that submissive expression full of "professional" manners.

Only after confirming that their "sincerity" had been completely accepted by their "master" did they begin to act.

She slowly raised her head, and with those same resolute and unyielding eyes, silently yet with unparalleled clarity, conveyed her "request" and "deal" to him.

—If only…you would let me visit them…

—I... am willing to do anything.

She's a smart person with a good personality, but unfortunately, in a sense, she's also one of the people who suffered the most at the hands of Otto.

Lu Mo naturally wouldn't be too harsh on Ragnar, but instead chuckled and tapped his cheek.

Ragnar was slightly taken aback, but then instantly understood his "master's" intention.

Her body, stiffened by the humiliating posture, moved with clumsiness. Yet, she still managed to rise slowly and efficiently from the soft carpet.

Then, step by step, she walked up to the man who was still sitting calmly on the sofa, waiting for her "reward".

She didn't immediately approach him.

Instead, she first reaches out and gently, with her fingertips, gracefully tucks the sweat-dampened strands of hair behind her ear.