I had a bottle.
No—let's call it what it really is: a curse. A relentless affliction I couldn't escape, no matter how desperately I tried.
I have a tendency—no, a twisted desire—to feel aroused by the thought of my lover being defiled by another man.
Because of this shameful, unforgivable inclination, my real-life relationships never lasted. As soon as my partners discovered this secret kink, they recoiled in disgust and left me. One even led to her older brother beating me to a pulp for "tainting" his sister.
And that same curse didn't disappear in Pure Love Fantasy, either.
At first, things were wonderful. Honestly, they were so good it felt like a dream. I was the protagonist of a game where divine beauties—each one beyond anything I could ever hope for in real life—fawned over me.
Beauty. Body. Status.
Married life with wives who had all three was everything I had ever fantasized about. And these weren't ordinary women—they were literal goddesses who descended from the heavens. The way they whispered love into my ear every night gave me a sense of fulfillment I never knew in my mundane, salaried life.
But that satisfaction didn't last.
People don't change—no matter how much their title does. Salaryman or warrior, I was still me.
I tried to suppress it. I really did. But I couldn't ignore the truth, especially as the symptoms worsened: the frequent erectile dysfunction, the gnawing feeling inside, the self-disgust. I couldn't hide my dirty secret forever.
Eventually, on a rare night when all of my beloved wives were gathered together, I confessed the truth.
I told them what I wanted.
I asked them—begged them—to sleep with someone else.
Naturally, they were stunned. Horrified. Their responses were immediate and unwavering.
They said they could never do that.
That the only man they ever wanted was me. They begged me not to say such a thing ever again.
Honestly, I expected that. I even thought someone might ask for a divorce right then and there.
But… no one left me.
Despite their shock, they chose to stay.
The love these goddesses had for Ion—for me—was more than I had ever imagined.
Afterward, they went above and beyond for my sake.
They arranged everything from professional counseling under the guise of post-combat trauma to intimate roleplay that stretched well beyond typical boundaries.
But it was like pouring warm water on frozen feet.
Their goal was simple: to erase my curse. To "heal" me.
They thought my kink was some kind of illness—something that could be fixed with enough time, love, and effort.
If I truly believed treatment could help, I would have gone to the hospital long ago. But I knew better than anyone: this wasn't something that could be erased.
Any attempt to remove it only made it grow worse.
So I lied.
I pretended to be cured—for their sake.
To see them smile again, I faked it.
And when I stopped acting "sick," they truly believed I was healed. They rejoiced. They looked at me with love, not pity.
And in doing so, I cursed them.
I buried the truth again and condemned myself to live with this darkness alone.
I thought I had hidden it completely.
"Demeter… why now…?"
I dropped the bow I had been holding and looked at her. Her expression was faintly troubled, her lips pressed into a shadowed smile.
"…I feel like you still want it," she said.
"W-What are you talking about? I don't—"
"You don't have to hide it."
She turned fully to face me, her gaze unwavering.
"You still regret it, don't you?"
"Regret…?"
"I saw you… comforting yourself in the bathroom yesterday morning."
I froze.
She saw me?
I was sure she had been asleep…
"Demeter, that was—"
"It's okay," she interrupted gently. "It was unavoidable. Ion… your body isn't satisfied with a normal relationship with me, right?"
Her insight cut to the bone. I think that's why she suddenly wanted to practice archery again—Demeter always turned to archery when something weighed on her heart.
"…Do you want to see me with another man?" she asked.
It was a direct question.
But I was a coward.
"…Would you really be okay with that?" I asked, deflecting.
Her response came after a pause—but when she spoke, her voice was honest.
"I hate the idea. I hate even imagining it. I don't want any man other than Ion. But…"
Her grip on the bow tightened.
"…I hate seeing you suffer even more. If being with another man would make you happy… I'll accept it."
"Demeter…"
I bit my lip in frustration, but I said nothing else.
I didn't say, You don't have to.I didn't say, Let's think about it again.
Because I couldn't.
And in that moment, I realized again what a terrible person I am.
I embraced Demeter silently.
Her expression was tinged with sorrow, but she didn't push me away.
The only thing I could offer her in return for her impossible decision was a kiss filled with gratitude.
A week later…
The stars cast a soft glow over Demeter's cabin.
"Are you really okay with this?" I asked her, gently stroking her hand as we sat together on the sofa.
She nodded.
"I'm okay. You don't need to worry, Ion."
"…I see."
I hated myself for the hypocrisy. For pretending to care while eagerly anticipating what was about to happen.
No matter how Demeter felt, I wasn't going to stop it now.
Knock, knock.
The sound of a calm knock echoed through the door.
I quickly let go of Demeter's hand and walked to answer it.
Standing there, as expected, was the man I'd chosen.
"Hello, warrior."
"Ah—Richard. Come in…"
Richard Prignato. The guest I personally selected for Demeter.
"Hope I'm not too late?" he asked with a smile.
"No, you're just on time."
"Good. I was so excited I lost track of time."
"…I see."
Excited. Of course he was. Considering what he was here to do tonight, how could he not be?
"It's a little chilly out. May I come in?"
"Of course."
I let him in. Richard removed his shoes and followed me into the living room, where Demeter was already waiting.
He bowed with practiced grace.
"Good evening, Demeter el Lepothesia Rayhard. I'm Richard Prignato. I'm here to serve you tonight."
"…You're…"
Demeter's eyes widened slightly when she saw him.
Richard smiled calmly.
"Demeter? Something wrong?"
"…No. Nothing."
She tried to hide her surprise, but I noticed the slight tremble in her hands.
I knew exactly why she reacted that way.
Because I knew what had happened between Demeter and Richard in the past.
That was the reason I chose him.
"This is a lovely cabin," Richard remarked, looking around. "It reflects your refined, understated personality."
Demeter offered a brief, cold thank-you. It was uncharacteristic for her—she was usually warm and gracious.
"Shall we proceed with our arrangement, warrior?"
"…Yes."
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Before today, I met with Richard and laid down three strict rules:
Use protection, no exceptions.
Never do anything Demeter explicitly dislikes.
Never speak of what happens here to anyone.
Richard agreed without complaint. Naturally. Being granted the chance to embrace a goddess… those were light terms.
"Demeter…"
She stood slowly when I called her, her face unreadable.
She crossed the room and stopped in front of Richard.
"I'll escort you, my lady," he said softly.
"…"
They walked toward the bedroom. I followed silently, keeping my distance.
Then, unexpectedly, Richard placed his hand gently around Demeter's waist.
She flinched—but didn't pull away.
And as I watched another man's hand on her body, I felt the unmistakable rise of arousal.