Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 35: Boyfriend Shirt

Ren took exactly three steps out of the steam-filled cavern before she stopped dead.

The cold air of the hallway hit her bare legs, reminding her of a very crucial fact.

"Wait," Ren hissed, clutching the black bear fur tighter around her chest. "Stop. Halt. Red light."

Syris paused, looking back over his shoulder. The sheer silk wrap around his waist fluttered, giving Ren a view of his hip bone that threatened to short-circuit her brain again.

"What is it?" Syris asked, his voice low and raspy. "Do your legs fail? I can carry you."

"My legs are fine," Ren lied (they were wobbly). "My dignity, however, is compromised. Syris, I am naked under this rug. I cannot walk through your palace flashing my ankles like a scandalous Victorian ghost. I need clothes."

Syris tilted his head, his amethyst eyes scanning her form. He seemed genuinely confused.

"Why?" he asked. "The fur is warm. And it allows for... easy access. If I need to touch you, there are no barriers."

"That is exactly the problem!" Ren snapped, her face heating up. "I am not walking around like a wrapped snack! I need coverage. Pants. A tunic. A burlap sack. Anything."

Syris sighed, the sound of a man burdened by the unreasonable demands of a high-maintenance pet.

"You mammals and your layers," he grumbled.

He walked over to a large, carved chest sitting in the alcove of the hallway. He threw the lid open.

"I do not have ’pants’ for females," Syris said, rummaging through piles of fabric. "The harem wears skins. But those are... elsewhere. And I do not want you wearing their scent."

He pulled out a garment.

It was a robe made of midnight-blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that looked like constellations. It was beautiful, fluid, and clearly made for a man who was six-foot-seven.

"This is my Night-Skin," Syris explained, holding it up. "I wear it when the scales are sensitive after a shed. It is soft. It will not irritate you."

He walked back to her and draped it over her shoulders.

Ren slipped her arms into the sleeves. They hung down past her fingertips by at least six inches. The hem pooled on the floor around her feet. She wrapped the front tight, overlapping the fabric until she was swaddled, and tied the sash around her waist.

She looked like a child playing dress-up in her father’s clothes. Or, more accurately, like a woman wearing her boyfriend’s shirt the morning after.

Syris stepped back to admire his work. His eyes darkened.

"You look..." He paused, searching for the word. "Small."

He reached out, rolling up her sleeves with surprising gentleness until her hands emerged. He kissed her knuckles.

"Better?"

"It’s a tripping hazard, but it covers the goods," Ren muttered, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. "Now, let’s go before I freeze."

The Garden of Shadows

Ren followed Syris deeper into the palace.

The air grew humid again, but not the gross, stagnant humidity of the swamp outside. This was a rich, earthy humidity. The smell of rot faded, replaced by the scent of wet soil, mint, and something sweet.

"We are under the mountain now," Syris explained, his voice echoing softly. "The thermal vents heat the soil here."

He pushed open a set of woven vine gates.

Ren gasped.

"Okay," she whispered. "This... this is impressive."

It was a subterranean greenhouse. Bioluminescent moss covered the ceiling, casting a soft, blue-purple light over rows of raised stone beds. Water trickled through aqueducts carved into the floor.

But the plants... they were alien and beautiful.

There were mushrooms the size of umbrellas glowing neon pink. Vines with leaves that looked like silver coins. And strange, pulsating flowers that turned to follow them as they walked.

"My private collection," Syris said, pride coloring his tone. "I trade for seeds from the far lands. Most beasts eat meat. They ignore the green things. But I..."

He plucked a leaf from a purple bush and crushed it, inhaling the scent.

"...I appreciate variety."

Ren’s "Chef Mode" activated instantly.

She rushed to the nearest bed.

"Is that..." She squinted at a leafy green plant. She ripped a leaf off and tasted it.

Peppery. Sharp.

"Arugula!" Ren cried out. "You have Arugula! And..." She moved to the next bed. "Basil? Purple Basil?"

"Stinging-Leaf," Syris corrected. "And Royal-Mint. Good for the stomach after eating a heavy rat."

"We are not eating rats, Syris. We are making Pesto."

Ren ran through the garden like a kid in a candy store. She found wild onions, garlic chives, and something that tasted suspiciously like lemongrass.

Then, she stopped at the back of the cavern.

A large, gnarled tree grew there. Hanging from its branches were large, oval pods the color of blood.

Ren’s heart stopped.

She walked up to the tree slowly, reverently. She reached up and touched a pod. It was hard, bumpy.

"No way," she whispered.

She pulled her heavy meat cleaver, which she had retrieved from her inventory, and carefully sliced the pod open.

Inside, surrounded by white, slimy pulp, were purple beans.

Ren scooped a bean out. She sniffed it. It smelled raw and bitter, but underneath... the promise of richness.

[System Notification: Ingredient Detected - Ancient Cacao Pod. Grade: SSS. Rarity: Legendary.]

"Chocolate," Ren breathed. "I found chocolate."

Syris glided up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Bitter-Beans," he said dismissively. "They are useless. They taste like dirt. I keep the tree because the wood is dark and pretty."

"Useless?" Ren spun around in his arms, her eyes manic. "Syris, these are not useless. These are the food of the gods. If I roast these... I can make something that tastes better than honey."

Syris looked at her frantic excitement. He didn’t understand the dirt-beans, but he understood the look on her face. She was happy.

"You want the dirt-beans?" Syris asked.

"Yes. I want all the dirt-beans."

Syris smirked. He leaned down and kissed her nose.

"Then they are yours. Consider it a... courting gift."

"Courting gift?" Ren paused. "Syris, be careful. If you give a woman chocolate, she might actually forget you kidnapped her."

"That," Syris purred, tightening his grip on her waist, "is the plan."

He leaned in to kiss her lips, but a slow, rhythmic clapping interrupted them.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Touching," a smooth voice drawled from the entrance of the garden. "Truly touching. The Serpent has found a heart."

Ren froze. She knew that voice.