RE: Perverted Sugar Daddy System-Chapter 392 - 392: Handler

"This is long. Why wasn't an elevator built in?"
"There is one. The old man had it deactivated. Believes the journey is part of the price for the secrets we all come down here to share."
"I'm not sure I agree with his reasoning."
"You don't have to. These old men always have their quirks."
I hadn't made a mention about my journey to the room where we met the pope because it hadn't really been troublesome.
The stairs had led quite a ways down, but since we were descending, for me, it was an easy walk.
Now we were climbing back up, and even with my superior build, I was finding the activity trying.
The only comfort I got from this journey was that I walked behind Chiara, and as she moved, I was able to glean the shape of her rear.
A thought came to mind as we walked, and the possibility of it had me honestly looking for clarification.
"He didn't really spend over two hours walking down to us, did he?"
"What do you think?" Chiara said, a slight grumble in her tone.
"So he's still going to have to go all the way back up," I muttered.
We performed the rest of our journey silently, reaching the top and then leaving the pope's wing of the Vatican before returning to the surface.
The sun hit us for just a brief moment, and passing through a door, we once more began descending.
"I feel like much of the Vatican is underground, spanning even across much of Rome."
"You shouldn't say that carelessly."
Right now, we were headed to Chiara's own territory in the smallest city in the world, our destination, where Lucy rested.
My gaze now came across familiar territory; the walls and corridors I passed by were recognisable to my memory. Before my thoughts could stray, Chiara made a turn that made me raise a brow.
We didn't walk far. After a few steps, we stepped into a normal-looking room, just a table, a chair, and a big TV by the wall.
After I walked in, the woman closed the door and turned, silently watching as I took a seat and stretched my legs.
"How fast the tables turn," I groaned, a few pops leaving my lower limb.
"What just happened?" she calmly asked.
"You've been made my handler."
I was looking at Chiara when I said those words, but I don't think I even blinked before I found her next straddling me, her eyes peering down into mine.
"Warden, attendant, guardian, mommy, I don't care. What I want to know is, who the hell are you?"
"How many times do you want me to answer that question?"
Chiara's right hand shot out and wrapped around my neck, her grip slowly tightening. The look in her eyes screamed murder.
Breathing got more difficult for me, but before it could become a critical problem, I found her back in her previous position, her expression back to one of calm and curiosity.
Cough! Cough!
"Sorry about that, I lost it a bit," she called out.
Rubbing my throat, I looked up at her, my expression annoyed.
"If I could move faster than you and punch your head into the ground, would you do that?
Would you lose it a bit?"
"No."
"I don't see any reason why the budding friendship between us should shatter because of a change in relationship.
Don't you agree?"
"I'm undecided about that."
"Why?"
"I'm 56 years old.
I spent much of the last 40 years of it training myself to reach the level I'm at. Every strength I have, every experience, every piece of knowledge, I gained through having my body ache and sweat.
I respect and I'm loyal to the pope because not only did he pick me up when I was nothing, he's been through whatever pain I've been through.
He understands my struggles, the reasons for my decisions, my desires.
I look up to him.
How can I be expected to treat you like I would him, follow your words like I would his, be loyal to you like I am to him?
You know nothing. You are nothing."
"Ouch!!" I rubbed my chest, feeling hurt.
"Valid cashout though," I told myself.
I mean, the woman was 56 years old. Women had a hard time listening to men even a year older than them, and now she, with several times that gap, was supposed to respect and follow my every order.
"The pope's head must not have been working well."
Despite the outburst, Chiara was still a smart, calculating woman. Immediately, she heard my words, she knew where I was going and sighed, rubbing her head.
"Sorry about my actions earlier," she sincerely said and bowed deeply.
At that instance, I could feel a change slowly encroaching upon the woman, her aura slowly turning distant.
This wasn't something I wanted.
"I accept it, but you will be punished."
"How?" Her spine straightened.
"After I've learned everything from you and can put your face in the ground, I'll decide."
Chiara blinked.
"Didn't you hear me say it took 40 years? Others take up to a hundred. I'm considered a rarity.
I'm a genius, you know," she boasted.
"I find it hard to believe you're 56.
Look at your skin, it glows so naturally, it looks like that of a woman in her early twenties.
Let's not go to your lips, plump and juicy, approaching peak ripeness."
"What about my ass? You were looking at it the whole time we were climbing up."
I had suddenly changed the subject at hand, bringing in a new atmosphere.
Chiara's words made me laugh at the woman's naivety toward my shamelessness.
"Never seen bread so well baked. I had a hard time not peeling off the crust."
"That's sweet.
Now what about my eyes?"
Fearlessly, I looked into the redhead's eyes, studying her black pupils.
As the seconds passed, a mischievous smile slowly stretched across Chiara's face, but then suddenly she quickly looked away from me, taking a step back.
When her eyes came back to mine, anger in them, and I just innocently raised my hands.
"What did you expect?"
She bit her lips.
"You really thought I'd be scared to look into your soul because it screamed death?"
"Normal people would."
"Well, normal people don't have a genius assigned to them as a handler."