My Man is My Magic Honeypot

After rejecting the 999th consort candidate my master, Madam Freya, had introduced to me, she finally reached her limit.

"What the hell are you waiting for? You're the once-in-a-lifetime genius of Nymphomist magic, and yet you've never gone through the Great Rite! You're not getting any younger, girl. At this rate, how are you supposed to improve your spiritual power?!"

I sighed.

Of course I wanted to find a consort and perform the Great Rite already. But every single one of those candidates looked like shit.

Unfortunately, my absurdly high standards for men ended up stalling my spiritual power for too long. I failed to survive the Trial of Lightning and died...

Then I opened my eyes and realized I was in another body, in another world. The beauty standards here were completely different from those in the elven world.

I looked across the room, and my eyes immediately landed on the most perfect man I had ever seen. He was 6'2", with sharply defined washboard abs. His face looked as though the gods themselves had sculpted it.

I ran straight toward him and threw my arms around his waist.

Oh, he's the one!

To my surprise, this god among men narrowed his eyes and grabbed me by the neck. Rage burned in his expression. "You would throw yourself at a man as hideous as me just for my money?! You disgust me!"

What the hell was he talking about? Honestly, all I could focus on was the way his sexy, seductive lips moved against each other whenever he spoke.

Please. Just let me bite them already!

I sensed cold steel against my wrists and shivered as I opened my eyes.

A bed covered in pink sheets came into view, but my attention quickly shifted to the man standing against the light. The sight of him immediately set my throat on fire.

He stood at least 6'2", his compact frame carrying an unmistakable air of dominance. The first two buttons of his dress shirt hung open, exposing the sharp outline of his collarbones and the smooth, powerful planes of his chest.

But his face. Holy shit. Those deep, endless eyes. That sculpted, almost elven nose. Those thin, supple lips pressed into a seductive frown.

I gasped. My gaze locked onto his washboard abs and refused to move.

He was a god among men. There was no way he could be anything less.

"Ha."

Oh Lord. This fine specimen had spoken, and his voice carried a magnetic, sensual baritone. The sound clashed sharply with the deep self-loathing woven into his tone.

"I knew it. It doesn't matter if I'm the richest man in the world. Even money can't soften this cursed, hideous appearance." His expression darkened. "Now that you've seen how repulsive I really am… get out."

He bent toward me and unlocked the pink handcuffs around my wrists.

Frankly, I was too stunned to move. How the hell was I supposed to process the insane thing he had just said?