Chapter 326 – "To Serve the One We Love" (18+)
The light in Alfheim had shifted by the time they returned to the bedroom. The canopy overhead dappled sunlight through translucent leaves, painting golden-green patterns across the polished floors and silk sheets.
But within the room, the air had changed.
It was no longer Vira's throne.
Nor Ciel's sanctuary.
It was Alex's space now—if only for a little while.
He stood near the window, the newly donned robe fitting neatly against his frame. Regal, understated, and dignified.
Behind him, two powerful women stood.
Not above him.
But beside him.
And then—
They knelt.
Both of them.
Vira on his left, emerald hair cascading down her back in quiet submission.
Ciel on his right, silver-white hair falling like moonlight across her shoulders.
They didn't speak at first.
They didn't need to.
Their kneeling posture wasn't one of weakness—it was reverence. Gratitude. Devotion not born of magic or tradition, but love freely chosen.
Vira looked up at him, her voice soft.
"You've served us without complaint."
"You've carried our pride, our weight, our fire… and never asked for anything."
Ciel continued, golden eyes glowing with calm sincerity.
"So today, we'll serve you."
"Not because we must…"
"…but because we want to."
Alex stood silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. But they didn't wait for permission.
Vira stood first, her hands moving to untie the front of his robe with delicate care. Each movement was reverent—her fingers slow, careful not to disturb the air between them.
Ciel moved behind him, lifting the robe's collar gently from his shoulders. She pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, her breath warm against his skin.
They removed the robe together.
Piece by piece.
Until he stood bare before them once more—this time, not in submission.
But in acceptance.
Vira leaned forward and kissed the center of his chest.
Ciel kissed his back.
And then both reached for him.
To worship him.
Their touches were soft at first.
Vira kissed his chest again, slowly trailing her lips along the curve of his ribs. Her fingers traced the outline of his waist, her emerald hair falling like silk against his skin.
Ciel circled around him, her hands gliding along his shoulders, then down his back. Her lips pressed gently to the base of his spine—a sacred gesture, quiet and sincere.
Alex stood still, his breath shallow, surrounded on both sides by women who had once taken command of him… now choosing to worship him instead.
Vira was the first to kneel.
She kissed his hip, then lower, her lips brushing the base of his length with reverence. She didn't immediately take him in her mouth—she just tasted him, kissed him again, inhaled the heat of him like someone savoring a rare bloom.
Ciel followed.
Her hands caressed his thighs, lifting gently as she knelt beside her sister—not with rivalry, but harmony.
When they looked up at him together—eyes shining with warmth and desire—he saw no mischief in their expressions.
Only devotion.
Vira leaned forward first, wrapping her lips around him, slow and smooth, her tongue curling beneath the shaft as she eased him into her mouth.
Ciel didn't wait.
She kissed his hip, then lower, then began to lick gently beneath, her tongue worshiping the sensitive skin below while Vira took him deeper—sucking with quiet, rhythmic grace.
Alex groaned softly, his hand finding Vira's head, fingers threading through her thick green locks.
Ciel joined her now—licking along the side of his length, meeting Vira's mouth, their tongues sometimes brushing as they shared him.
They moved like dancers.
Perfectly in sync.
Their mouths and hands working together, not to overwhelm him…
But to honor him.
To bring him pleasure as he had brought them love.
"Let go," Ciel whispered between licks. "This time, it's your turn."
"You don't have to hold back," Vira added with a soft hum, her lips wrapped around him again, eyes half-lidded with sultry grace.
He couldn't hold it for long.
Not with both of them working in harmony—lips sealing, tongues teasing, hands stroking his thighs, his hips, his stomach.
When his climax surged, they didn't flinch.
They accepted it together.
Vira held him in her mouth as he released, swallowing every drop with a slow, deliberate breath.
Ciel kissed his chest, then his lips—still tasting him, still cherishing the moment.
And when it was over, when his breath slowed and his body finally relaxed—
They rose.
One to each side of him.
They wrapped their arms around him.
And held him.
No more dominance.
No more commands.
Just warmth.
And quiet whispers.
"You gave us your strength," Ciel murmured.
"And now we've given you everything we are," Vira added.
Alex, still catching his breath, nodded once—speechless.
But he didn't need words.
They already knew.
The silence that followed was warm.
Not empty.
Not awkward.
Just filled with the afterglow of something deeply shared—something intimate and given without restraint.
Alex sat on the edge of the bed now, robes still untouched, his skin kissed by sunlight. Ciel rested at his side, her head gently against his shoulder. Vira remained half-curled beside his legs, one arm draped loosely across his thigh, her emerald hair spilling like a river over the sheets.
Ciel was the first to speak.
Her golden eyes shimmered with soft humor.
"…It was sweeter than I expected."
Vira raised an eyebrow and smirked faintly.
"You mean his release?"
Ciel nodded, brushing a strand of silver-white hair from her face.
"Mm. Far sweeter than his piss."
Alex blinked.
Vira laughed—low and sultry.
"Well, of course it is," she said proudly, nuzzling his hip. "That wasn't waste. That was gift."
She looked up at him, her tone still teasing, but honest beneath it.
"It was thick, warm… smooth. Like nectar mixed with mana. No bitterness at all."
Ciel added quietly, "It lingered on my tongue. Like starlight laced with honey."
Vira narrowed her eyes slightly, amused. "Poetic."
Ciel smiled. "It deserves poetry."
Vira leaned her cheek against Alex's thigh and sighed.
"So. It's decided."
She closed her eyes with contentment.
"Everything from your body is delicious."
Alex stared at them, exhaling softly.
"…That's not normal."
Ciel and Vira, in unison, replied:
"That's you."
They didn't say anything more after that.
Because it was true.
Because they'd tasted devotion—and they had no shame in savoring it.
Chapter 327 – "The Weight She Carries"
Later that day, after the shared warmth and worship had faded into silence, Vira sat alone near the balcony of her chamber.
Sunlight spilled over her shoulders, bathing her emerald hair in golden light. The breeze from the high canopy rustled the vines and leaves beyond, carrying the distant hum of Alfheim's court—a harmony of nature and duty.
But her eyes were not on the horizon.
They were on her stomach.
Her palm rested gently there, skin bare beneath the open fold of her robe. She could feel the faintest flicker—something deep within her. Something new.
Something his.
She had no doubt.
Alex's seed had taken root.
She was pregnant.
And yet… nothing had changed.
No swelling.
No sign.
No glow of maternal mana like in the tales.
It was as if her body had swallowed the miracle and locked it in a vault of centuries.
She sighed quietly.
High elf pregnancies were strange things—slow, ancient, and often maddening in their unpredictability. Some elves birthed after ten years. Some after fifty. Others carried their children like hidden stars for a hundred years or more.
There was no way to tell.
Vira touched her stomach again, this time with a look of sorrow in her eyes.
"I want to feel you," she whispered. "I want to see you grow."
She didn't cry.
But something heavy settled in her chest.
A quiet ache she wasn't ready to name.
Moments later, Ciel and Alex stepped back into the chamber—freshly dressed, their steps soft, sensing the shift in the room.
Vira stood.
Straightened her robe.
And turned to them with her usual grace.
But her eyes were different now.
Tired.
Resolute.
"I need you both to go home first," she said softly.
Alex stepped forward. "Is something wrong?"
Vira shook her head. "No. Not wrong. Just… Alfheim."
She gestured toward the window—toward the endless branches of elven courts and golden spires beyond.
"Even though I'm a princess, and even though my mother is queen… she can't carry everything. The court is fracturing beneath the surface. Politics. Tradition. Whispers about my… attachments to mortals."
Ciel frowned. "Do they know?"
"Not everything," Vira replied. "But enough to raise eyebrows."
She glanced toward her belly once more.
"…And if they knew about this…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
But they all understood.
Ciel stepped forward and embraced her, forehead to forehead.
"You don't have to carry everything alone," she whispered.
"I know," Vira replied.
"But for now… I must."
She turned to Alex.
Her voice softened.
"I'll return when I can. Visit when I'm able."
"Until then… protect what we share."
He nodded quietly, understanding in his gaze.
And with that, she walked them to the teleportation circle.
Head high.
Eyes clear.
Carrying, within her, the quiet miracle of a new life…
And the thousand-year weight of an ancient kingdom.
The teleportation circle flared once—light rippling across the marble floor of Alex's home.
And then they arrived.
Ciel stepped forward first, her silver-white hair fluttering softly behind her. Alex followed close behind, his robe catching the late-afternoon glow pouring through the windows. The familiar scent of their home greeted them—lavender, sun-warmed wood, and faint traces of the lives within.
Before Alex could even take a full breath—
A voice called out.
"Alex!"
Hanabi.
She darted down the stairs barefoot, her dark crimson eyes wide with excitement, her fox tail swishing rapidly behind her.
She didn't slow.
She pounced into his arms with the grace of a predator and the affection of a girl who had been waiting days.
"You're finally home!" she grinned, squeezing him tight. "You smell like trees. And Ciel."
Alex chuckled, hugging her back. "We just came from Alfheim."
Behind Hanabi, Airi appeared next—calm, composed as always, though her posture relaxed as soon as she saw him.
"Welcome back," she said quietly, walking up and slipping her hand into his. "You were gone for longer than I expected."
"We stayed the night," Ciel replied calmly. "Things… deepened."
From the far side of the room, soft footsteps echoed—Reyne, barefoot and carrying a tray of tea. Her long white lavender hair shimmered as she tilted her head and smiled.
"You're both safe. That's all that matters."
She set the tray down on the nearby table, her eyes lingering on Alex's for a moment longer than usual.
Then came Morgan.
She didn't run.
She simply appeared in the doorway like a whisper—elegant, distant, her pale cyan eyes unreadable. She was dressed in her usual gothic black, hair tied back with the familiar ribbon Alex had once returned to her.
"I see you've returned intact," she said softly. "No limbs missing. No curses. No goddesses clinging to you today?"
Alex gave a tired smile. "Not this time."
She stepped forward, then—to everyone's surprise—hugged him from behind. Quietly. Gently.
"…Welcome home."
And then—
A shift.
A ripple of golden light.
From deeper within the house, Nefertiti stepped out, barefoot, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, golden eyes soft but impossibly ancient.
She walked up to him slowly.
"Your scent is stronger," she said in her smooth, regal voice. "It changed."
She placed a hand gently on his chest.
"You were claimed again, weren't you?"
Ciel answered for him. "Yes. By one who has every right to."
Nefertiti studied Alex a moment longer.
Then smiled.
"You smell more like a king now."
The room filled with a strange, comforting warmth—each woman surrounding him not with tension, but relief. Acceptance. Love.
Reyne poured tea.
Hanabi kept her arm looped in his.
Airi settled beside him.
Morgan stood at his back, her presence cool but constant.
Ciel remained at his side, calm and content.
And Nefertiti sat gracefully across from him, her posture perfect.
Alex looked at each of them.
And for a moment…
He didn't feel like a man balancing loyalties.
He felt like a man held.
The warmth of home lingered in every corner of the room. Conversation flowed softly among the gathered women, their voices mingling with the clink of porcelain and the scent of steeping herbs.
Alex, seated comfortably on the main sofa, felt a curious stillness wash over him.
He glanced toward Reyne.
She was seated elegantly on a low cushion across from him, lavender hair falling like silk over one shoulder. Her long fingers gracefully poured tea into fine glass cups, her purple eyes steady—but there was something in the slight curve of her lips.
Something proud.
Something dangerous.
Is she the one making tea now?
He blinked at the thought.
Reyne?
The one who, behind closed doors, was a storm of fire and hunger—possessive, proud, dragon-blooded?
It wasn't like her to serve.
Not unless…
He said nothing.
He simply accepted the cup when she offered it—fingers brushing briefly.
The tea was clear, faintly violet in hue, steam curling up with an aroma he didn't quite recognize.
He sipped.
Warm.
Smooth.
But as it traveled down his throat… something bloomed.
Slowly.
A heat that wasn't from the temperature of the drink.
But from within.
He set the cup down and looked at her.
"…This tea."
Reyne's eyes gleamed.
"It's a special blend," she said simply.
Alex narrowed his gaze slightly. "Special how?"
She tilted her head, the corners of her lips curling into a smile both regal and wicked.
"It greatly arouses sexual desire."
The room fell silent.
Utterly silent.
No one moved.
Even Hanabi—usually the first to react—just stared, her fox ears twitching faintly.
Ciel blinked.
Airi looked away.
Morgan sipped her own tea calmly, but her pale blue eyes now glimmered with something like suppressed amusement.
Nefertiti raised an eyebrow faintly, golden eyes assessing.
Alex?
He froze.
His body had already begun to react—and now the knowledge settled like a flame licking up his spine.
Reyne simply sipped her own cup without breaking eye contact.
"Dragons," she said softly, "do not wait."
And the room stayed quiet.
Heavy.
Charged.
Waiting.
Chapter 328 – "The Body Does Not Resist" (18+)
The silence after Reyne's words still clung to the room like the final ring of a bell.
"It greatly arouses sexual desire."
Alex set the teacup down slowly.
His fingers trembled just slightly.
Why… why am I feeling this?
Heat had begun to pool in his abdomen, rising upward in waves—not the kind that came from embarrassment or flustered attraction. This was deeper. Physical. Biological. Primal. His breath shortened, his skin flushed subtly at the edges of his collar.
No… this isn't normal.
With my endurance…
He frowned.
Even poison forged in black starfire couldn't pierce his constitution. His body had endured death-mana, the bite of a void beast, even the elemental pressure of the Sun Tyrant's wrath.
So why… can't I resist this?
He glanced around the room. No one else had touched the tea.
Only him.
Reyne sat calmly—regal, composed, her white lavender hair cascading over one shoulder like coiled silk. Her purple eyes never left him, and there was something unmistakably pleased gleaming beneath her calm.
She had planned this.
And she knew what it would do.
But what unsettled him more wasn't her confidence.
It was his own body.
It wasn't resisting.
There were no inner alarms. No mental barriers kicking in to purge it. No system screaming about status conditions.
Nothing.
Just desire.
Building.
Expanding.
And then he realized it.
Maybe… that's why.
He swallowed.
This isn't a negative effect.
It's not a toxin. Not a curse. Not even a magical compulsion.
It was an invitation.
And his body—flawless, post-physical, evolved beyond human limitation—saw no reason to reject it.
Because the desire to reproduce…
To mate…
To bond…
Was not a threat.
It was instinct.
It was nature.
And no matter how powerful he had become—
He was still alive.
Still flesh.
Still male.
Still hers.
Reyne rose slowly, her bare feet soft against the wooden floor. Her long robe whispered behind her as she walked toward him.
The others remained frozen in place—some curious, some stunned, some simply watching what would unfold.
But Reyne?
She didn't ask for permission.
She knelt before him.
Hands on his knees.
And said, with a voice like velvet laced with fire:
"Let me help you, Alex."
"Let me ease what I awakened."
Reyne's fingers tightened on his knees.
Her purple eyes shimmered with raw heat—cool, proud, but undeniably hungry. Her white lavender hair draped around her shoulders like a silken cloak of winter fire, and her scent—sweet, with a hint of ozone and something wild—curled in his lungs like incense.
"Don't hold back," she whispered.
"You couldn't stop this if you tried."
Alex swallowed again—but the heat had already consumed his breath.
His body was answering her.
Completely.
Reyne leaned in, pressing her lips to his throat—not biting, not teasing, but tasting. Her tongue flicked against his skin as her fingers moved to the belt of his robe, unfastening it with elegant precision.
She didn't rush.
This wasn't lust without control.
It was hunger shaped by pride.
By dragon instinct.
She parted the robe, revealing him—and inhaled softly.
Her hand wrapped around him first. Possessive. Gentle.
She stroked once, then twice, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. Her expression didn't flicker. Her eyes said one thing only:
You are mine.
When she finally leaned down and took him into her mouth, it was with absolute confidence. No hesitation. No coyness. Her lips wrapped around him, her tongue sliding beneath—claiming him, worshiping him, tasting what her tea had drawn out.
Her pace was steady.
Controlled.
But deep.
Wet heat surrounded him, and her hands never left his body—one on his thigh, the other gripping his side. He gritted his teeth, fingers twitching in restraint.
She glanced up, still sucking.
Still holding him in her mouth.
And smirked around him.
She liked seeing him struggle.
Liked seeing a man who could crush gods brought low by nothing more than her mouth.
When he groaned, she pulled back—only slightly—tongue dragging along his shaft with agonizing slowness.
"Don't come yet," she said smoothly. "Not until you're inside me."
She stood.
Shed her robe.
Her skin was flawless—pale and smooth, with the strength of a dragon forged beneath the softness. Her curves were perfect, but her gaze was sharper than any blade. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him slowly, hands braced against his chest.
She lined herself up.
And sank down.
Alex gasped.
She didn't stop.
She didn't pause.
She took all of him in one long, steady movement, her eyes fluttering half-closed as her breath caught.
But her voice—oh, her voice—was still full of steel.
"I brewed that tea from my own essence," she whispered, hips beginning to move. "So you'd feel me… inside you… long before I let you be inside me."
Her pace picked up.
Her thighs locked tighter.
Alex gripped her hips as she rode him, each thrust meeting with strength and rhythm. She moved like a queen claiming her throne—each movement designed to draw out every drop of tension, every edge of desire he had left.
"You'll finish inside me," she whispered in his ear.
Her breath trembled.
"And I'll take everything."
He couldn't hold back anymore.
He surged up into her, his voice finally breaking as release took him—deep and overwhelming. She gasped as he came, her head thrown back, nails digging into his chest with a hiss of satisfaction.
She didn't pull away.
She stayed seated.
Breathing hard.
Body trembling around his.
And then—
She leaned forward.
Licked his lips once.
And whispered:
"You belong to a dragon now."
Reyne stayed astride him.
Even after his release filled her.
Even after the trembling passed.
She didn't move.
Not to dismount.
Not to rest.
She simply looked down at him—her purple eyes steady, her expression quiet but unshakably proud.
She placed her hand gently on his chest, fingers splayed across his heartbeat.
"You don't need to move," she said softly, her tone low and commanding. "Just feel it."
Alex blinked, breathing steadily beneath her.
She tightened her legs around his waist, hips rolling again—slower this time, deeper, more deliberate.
Her body drank every motion, her wet warmth clinging to him, holding him with perfect control.
"This isn't just mating," she continued, voice soft but clear. "This is mine."
"And yours."
Her movements grew steadier again, riding him in long, slow strokes that weren't about dominance now—but bond.
Claim.
Purpose.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, breath hot against his lips.
"I will be your woman," she whispered. "But I will never be beneath you."
"I lead because I was born to."
"But I give you everything."
She kissed him—long and deep.
Her tongue danced with his as her hips moved in slow rhythm, her breath catching again, her voice trembling—but her gaze remained open.
"I will bear your children," she whispered between moans.
"I will burn for you, bleed for you, protect your name even when you're not there to defend it."
"But in this…"
She gasped, trembling again as her second climax surged through her, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as her body pressed down harder.
"…You are mine."
And she rode him through it.
Not to conquer him.
But to stand beside him.
The pace softened.
Slowed.
They collapsed gently together—her body atop his, her heart pounding against his chest.
No more words passed.
Only warmth.
Only breath.
Only silence.
Not the silence of shock.
But of something fulfilled.
And in that silence, she buried her face against his throat and whispered—
"I will always be proud of this."
"Of you."
"Of us."
Their bodies lay in stillness for a while—entwined, warm, layered in shared breath and the sheen of fading heat.
Reyne rested her cheek against his chest, her hand rising and falling with each breath he took. Her lavender-white hair clung softly to his skin, her fingers splayed possessively over his heart.
But dragons are never still for long.
She stirred.
Lifted herself slowly—no rush, no regret in her movement. Her legs trembled faintly, a sign of how deeply she had taken him, but her pride allowed no falter in her step. She stood tall, regal, and satisfied.
Alex watched her move toward the wash basin, her silhouette glowing in the soft hallway light. She rinsed herself delicately, a folded towel in hand, her motions fluid but precise—like a queen cleansing herself after a coronation, not an act of sex.
Then—
She paused.
Her fingers grazed between her thighs.
And she smiled faintly.
"…Ciel was right," she murmured.
Alex tilted his head from where he lay, still catching his breath.
Reyne turned to face him, her lips curled with quiet amusement.
"I heard from her," she said calmly, "that your seed is sweet."
She walked back to the bed—slow, deliberate steps.
"And now…"
She raised her hand.
A drop of him clung to her fingertip.
She brought it to her mouth without breaking eye contact.
And licked.
Her tongue curled around it like a tasting of fine nectar.
Then she closed her eyes.
Letting the taste settle on her tongue.
A long pause.
She opened her eyes again.
"…Even sweeter than she claimed."
There was no teasing in her voice.
Only quiet reverence.
And a dragon's pride in what she had earned.
She wiped her hands clean, returned to the basin to finish tending herself, and then—without a word—returned to the bed.
She slipped under the covers beside him, pressed her back against his chest, and pulled his arm over her waist.
No commands.
No games.
Just warmth.
And before sleep took her, she whispered—
"You'll give me more later."
"Not because I demand it…"
"…but because you'll want to."
Reyne had just nestled against him—her back to his chest, her body relaxed, her breath beginning to slow.
But then—
She felt it.
The shift.
Alex's body, though tired, responded instantly to her whispered promise.
Her words had not even cooled on the air:
"You'll give me more later."
But his desire rose again.
Hard against her.
Alive.
Reyne smiled, her eyes still closed.
"...So sensitive," she murmured.
She turned slowly in his arms to face him again, their bodies now flush beneath the sheets. Her purple eyes opened—narrowed just slightly with knowing heat.
"You were planning to wait?"
She arched a brow, her white lavender hair tumbling over her shoulder.
"There's no need."
Her fingers traced down his chest, light as breath.
"No need for next time…"
She leaned forward, lips brushing his throat as her hand slipped lower, wrapping around him again, feeling the renewed heat pulsing with need.
"…Just now."
Her voice was velvet and fire.
And he was already hers.
She pushed him gently onto his back, straddling him again without hesitation. This time, there was no ceremony. No announcement.
Only fire answering fire.
She guided him back inside with a soft gasp, her nails digging into his chest—not to hurt him, but to anchor herself.
And then she rode him again.
Harder.
Deeper.
Without reservation.
Her breath caught. Her moans came quicker. Her body clung to him as though she meant to burn his shape into her forever.
No part of her was hesitant.
She kissed him again, hungrily—tongue pushing into his mouth, hips slamming against his with fluid rhythm. Her eyes shimmered with that same dragon pride.
"You're mine," she whispered against his lips, panting.
"Even when you fall asleep…"
"…even in your dreams…"
"…you'll feel me."
And Alex did.
He felt her.
Claiming him again—not to overpower him, but to remind him.
That love, in the heart of a dragon…
was fire that never cooled.
Reyne didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Every movement of her hips was deliberate—guided by instinct, yes, but shaped by something deeper. A need to connect. To bond. To remind both of them what it meant when a dragon gave herself fully.
Her breath came faster, but her posture never lost its dignity. She sat upright atop him now, riding him with a slow, grinding rhythm—her head tilted back, white lavender hair cascading down her spine, her breasts rising and falling with every breath.
Alex's hands rested at her hips, fingers flexing, gripping, releasing in time with her movements.
She was heat.
She was rhythm.
She was law.
And she rode him like the queen she was—no hesitation, no submission, only fire and ownership.
"You feel that?" she breathed, voice thick with pleasure.
"This isn't just sex."
"This is what it means… to belong to a dragon."
She leaned forward again, hands braced on his chest, her lips brushing against his as her body clenched tightly around him.
Every motion of her hips now was meant to drive him deeper, to draw more of him, to leave no part untouched. And Alex—despite his near-limitless stamina—was already struggling to hold back, his jaw clenched, his heart racing.
Reyne saw it.
She felt it.
And smiled.
"Don't you dare hold it in."
"Not when I'm giving you everything."
Her pace picked up again, faster now, the wet slap of skin filling the air—raw, carnal, but never crude. Her breath hitched, her voice cracked with each thrust, and she pressed her forehead against his.
Their sweat mingled.
Their breaths tangled.
And still she moved.
"Alex…"
"I want it."
"I want all of it."
"Inside me. Deep."
He gripped her tighter, thrusting upward to meet her rhythm—eyes locked, bodies no longer separate, but fused.
When he finally released again, it was with a groan pulled straight from his soul.
She cried out too—her entire body shuddering around him as climax overtook her, sharp and endless. Her hands clawed down his chest, and her wings—half-manifested in that moment of instinct—fluttered and vanished again.
She collapsed into him, panting, her cheek resting against his neck.
For a long while…
Neither moved.
Neither could.
And that silence—shared between dragon and man—was the truest language either of them knew.
Chapter 329 – "What They Wanted to Know"
The room was silent.
Not the silence of sleep.
But the aftermath of something primal. Sacred. Uninterrupted.
Reyne lay sprawled across Alex's chest, her body trembling softly, flushed with pride and satisfaction. Her lavender-white hair was tangled between them like a veil, her breath warm against his throat.
Alex's arms were still around her, his heartbeat steady now—his body at peace, even if his mind remained dazed by what had just passed between them.
But then…
He felt it.
A shift in the air.
Soft footsteps.
Eyes.
He turned his head slightly.
And saw them.
The others.
All of them.
Ciel.
Airi.
Hanabi.
Morgan.
Nefertiti.
Even Reyne's heavy breathing paused slightly.
They had all been there.
Watching.
Not hidden.
Not intruding.
Simply waiting.
Quiet.
Respectful.
And entirely present.
Ciel stood calmly at the front, arms crossed, her golden eyes composed.
She offered a small nod.
"I told them not to interfere," she said softly. "That this moment belonged to the two of you."
Alex opened his mouth—but found no words.
Hanabi tilted her head slightly, her red eyes wide with fascination. "So that's what it looks like when a dragon really wants someone…"
Airi looked down at her hands, her voice soft. "I thought I understood how much he holds back. But after watching this… maybe not."
Morgan simply stepped forward—quiet as a shadow—her pale blue eyes fixed not on Alex, but on Reyne's lower body.
She spoke without hesitation.
"…I want to see if what Ciel said was true."
Reyne blinked, slowly sitting up—but didn't argue. Her pride wouldn't allow shame, not now. Not after she had claimed him so thoroughly.
She shifted slightly, parting her thighs just enough.
The evidence of their union still glistened inside her—thick, white, and unmistakably his.
Morgan knelt beside the bed first.
Her fingers moved with a surgeon's grace—slipping inside gently, scooping a small amount of his release onto her fingertip. She raised it to her lips.
Tasted it.
Paused.
"…She was wrong."
Everyone turned.
Morgan's voice didn't waver.
"It's sweeter than Ciel described."
Reyne smirked. "Of course it is."
Hanabi was next—curious and bold. She dipped her fingers between Reyne's thighs without shame, tasting with a playful grin.
"Mm… it's like warm honey. Maybe… a little fruit? Peach?"
Airi followed—hesitant at first, but her curiosity won. When she tasted, her eyes widened.
"…It's like mana syrup. Clean. Pure."
Even Nefertiti stepped forward, her golden eyes studying Reyne's body, then lifting a single finger to gather a sample and taste.
After a long pause, she nodded once.
"…This could be used as an offering to gods."
Reyne laughed, resting back against Alex's chest again.
"You see?" she murmured.
"I told you…"
"…He belongs to a dragon now."
Reyne remained resting against Alex's chest, her breathing slow, her body still warm from their union. But around the bed, the other women hadn't yet stepped away.
Instead, they leaned closer.
Not with hunger.
But with intrigue.
Morgan's pale fingers hovered again near Reyne's thighs, but this time—she paused, inhaling softly.
Then again.
She closed her eyes.
"…It smells clean," she said quietly. "Not like a man. Not like any mortal."
Ciel stepped forward, her golden eyes calm, but her tone laced with amusement.
"I did mention it was fragrant."
Reyne turned her head slightly, resting her cheek on Alex's shoulder as she smirked. "You didn't do it justice."
Hanabi leaned in next—her fox ears twitching, her nose close.
She took a slow, deliberate breath.
And blinked.
"…It smells like flowers."
"Not perfume," she clarified. "Real ones. Wild flowers after rain. And something warm beneath. Musk, but… not dirty. It's natural."
Airi knelt beside her, her movements careful and deliberate. She lowered herself just enough to inhale from the same place Reyne had parted slightly.
She pulled back slowly, cheeks pink.
"I smell mana," she whispered. "Dense, living magic. Almost like… incense from a sacred spring."
Nefertiti, ever composed, observed silently before lifting her hand.
She summoned a tiny wind spell with a flick of her fingers—channeling the scent gently into her palm.
She brought it to her nose.
Breathed in.
Her gold eyes closed.
"…It's divine."
Morgan spoke again, fingers still resting on the bedframe.
"If he were a relic… this scent alone would start a war."
Ciel chuckled quietly. "It already has."
Reyne gave a soft hum, her voice proud but lazy.
"You've tasted it… now you've smelled it."
She nuzzled closer to Alex, her voice dropping to a possessive whisper:
"And you all know why I claimed him first today."
Alex lay there, wordless beneath her—his breath steady, eyes half-lidded, surrounded by the quiet reverence of those who now truly understood:
His body was not just strong.
It was sacred.
Just as the mood began to settle—breath slowing, hearts calm, the quiet reverence of their shared intimacy cooling into comfort—Hanabi suddenly blinked.
She sat up straight, ears twitching sharply.
"Wait…"
Everyone turned.
She sniffed again—this time, not at Reyne or Alex, but toward the open window, eyes narrowing in thought.
"Do you guys… remember what the people in the city were gossiping about this week?"
Ciel tilted her head. "Which part?"
Hanabi raised a finger.
"The part where people said the sewers started smelling good."
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "You mean that ridiculous rumor about how certain alleys near the nobles' district started to smell like flowers instead of filth?"
"Yes!" Hanabi nodded rapidly. "They said it was like… faint jasmine and sunlight. Like the sewer air got blessed."
Airi stared at her.
"…You're not saying what I think you're saying."
Hanabi slowly turned toward Alex.
Then down.
Then back up.
Alex blinked. "…What?"
There was a long pause.
Then Reyne narrowed her eyes.
"You did use the bathroom in town earlier last week, didn't you?"
Alex hesitated. "I mean… yes?"
Morgan folded her arms slowly. "Where?"
He thought for a second. "Near the edge of the plaza. Noble quarter. Just before we left for the summit."
Airi slowly covered her mouth.
Nefertiti exhaled through her nose. "That lines up with where the rumors started."
Hanabi was already laughing.
"Oh my gods…"
She pointed at him, eyes wide.
"You purified the city sewers just by peeing into them."
Alex stared in disbelief. "That's not—how would that even—"
But the others were already processing it.
Ciel looked thoughtful. "If your bodily fluids are as infused with mana and divine essence as your seed and sweat, then it's not entirely implausible."
Morgan added, "The waste systems in that area are magic-recycled. Your presence could have enchanted the entire filtration system without realizing it."
Reyne, still lounging across his chest, gave a triumphant little smirk.
"And now the city's walking around wondering why their gutters smell like orchid tea and summer wind."
The room fell into stunned silence again.
Then—
Laughter.
Real, breathless laughter.
Not mockery—but awe.
Disbelief.
Affection.
Hanabi fell back onto the rug, kicking her legs in the air.
"I can't believe we live with someone whose pee is a civic blessing."
Reyne nuzzled against him again.
"Don't worry," she purred. "We'll keep it a secret…"
She grinned, low and dangerous.
"…Until the mayor tries to bottle sewer air and sell it as cologne."
Chapter 330 – "The Weight of Blood"
The house was calm that evening.
After the teasing and laughter from earlier had faded, most of the others had retreated to their rooms—each lost in her own thoughts about what had happened, what had been revealed, and what it all meant.
Alex remained seated in the garden courtyard, half-lit by the quiet glow of starlight.
He barely noticed the faint sound of footsteps until Morgan's pale silhouette appeared in the doorway. She stepped out quietly, silver hair catching the moonlight like strands of light itself, her pale blue eyes cool but unreadable.
She approached without a word and sat beside him.
For a while, they said nothing.
Just breathed.
Then Morgan broke the silence.
"I've been thinking," she said softly, folding her hands in her lap. "About something that none of the others have really talked about."
Alex turned to her slightly. "What is it?"
Morgan didn't look at him at first.
She stared at the moon.
Then she finally said:
"Why some of us… can't get pregnant."
The words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken weight.
Alex blinked. "You think it's…?"
She cut in calmly.
"It's not your fault."
He looked at her, surprised.
She finally turned her head to meet his eyes.
"You got Vira pregnant. And Amaterasu too. That's more than most men—any men—could even dream of."
Alex opened his mouth, but she shook her head.
"I know you. You've probably wondered why others haven't conceived. Why you haven't had children with Ciel, or Airi, or even me."
"…Yes," he admitted quietly.
Morgan nodded, her voice cool and steady.
"The issue… isn't you. It's us."
She turned her gaze toward the small pond in the garden, the reflection of the stars shimmering in its surface.
"The stronger the woman's bloodline, the lower the fertility rate."
"It's a paradox," she continued. "The more ancient, divine, or transcendent the lineage… the less likely it is that conception happens at all. The womb resists. Not out of rejection, but protection. It only allows creation when certain hidden conditions are met."
Alex furrowed his brows. "So Vira and Amaterasu…"
Morgan nodded.
"They were rare cases. Miracles, even. You slipped through a thousand locks without even realizing it."
She smiled faintly.
"Of course. That's just like you."
He looked at her with quiet thought.
"But you… you have a powerful bloodline too."
"I do," she said. "And that's why I haven't tried yet."
She turned to him fully, voice quieter now—almost tender beneath her aloof tone.
"I would never want to bind you with the pain of trying and failing."
"…But if I ever do try—"
Her fingers brushed lightly against his wrist.
"—I'll make sure every part of me wants it."
"And not just my heart…"
"…but my soul, my magic, and my blood."
She stood slowly, her silver hair cascading over her back like moonlight over still water.
Then she looked at him once more and whispered:
"When I carry your child…"
"It won't be because I was lucky."
"It'll be because the world itself couldn't stop it."
Morgan remained standing beneath the moonlight, her silver hair swaying gently with the night wind.
But she wasn't done.
"There's more you should know," she said, her voice calm, almost clinical now. "It's not just bloodline purity that makes conception difficult."
She looked over her shoulder at him, her pale blue eyes glinting with layered understanding.
"It's species. Some races… weren't built for quick reproduction."
Alex listened silently.
Morgan walked back a few steps and sat again—closer this time.
"For example," she continued, "incubi and succubi—beings of lust and spirit—they don't reproduce easily. It takes years of intercourse with the same partner before their body accepts the bond."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Years?"
Morgan nodded.
"Minimum one year of consistent, focused mating—sometimes up to ten."
She looked at him meaningfully.
"And in rare cases… a hundred years."
He stared at her. "You're serious?"
"I wouldn't joke about this," she replied.
"They don't just reproduce through physical contact. Their bodies interpret sex as spiritual data—signals of compatibility. It takes time for their biology to confirm that a partner is truly theirs."
She folded her arms over her knees.
"It's the same reason why some divine races don't reproduce at all unless a celestial alignment occurs. Or why dragons might only conceive once every thousand years."
Alex glanced toward the house, thinking of Reyne.
Morgan smirked slightly. "Yes. Her too."
Then she added with a whisper:
"You may have already changed that."
He looked back at her quickly.
Morgan continued, eyes half-lidded. "The moment you released inside Reyne… something shifted. I can't explain it. But I felt it. Like the air changed. Like a new anchor was dropped into the future."
"…Whether it means a child has been conceived… or her fate is being rewritten… remains to be seen."
Alex remained quiet for a moment, absorbing it all.
Morgan rested her cheek on her knee and said softly:
"You'll probably father children with most of us."
"But only if we're ready."
"And only if our bodies, spirits, and bloodlines accept you completely."
She looked at him one last time—her expression unreadable, but her voice sincere.
"…And I think they will."
The air had grown calm between them—quiet, reflective, heavy with ancient truths and quiet emotions.
But then—
Alex's eyes widened slightly.
"…Wait."
Morgan raised a brow. "What is it?"
He blinked.
"Mary."
Morgan tilted her head. "What about her?"
He glanced down at the grass, mentally retracing everything he knew.
"Her bloodline is… complicated. She told me—she's part human, part succubus, part angel… and part fallen angel."
Morgan blinked. "Ah."
He exhaled. "And her personalities are split. Mary is the human-angel side… and Mira is the fallen-succubus side."
Morgan's expression went still for a beat.
Then she said:
"…Oh no."
Alex looked at her.
Morgan turned her head slowly toward him, a mischievous smirk beginning to form at the corner of her lips.
"You do realize," she began, "that the succubus-fallen side—Mira—is probably biologically cursed to never conceive without prolonged… spiritual synchronization."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "…What do you mean by 'prolonged'?"
Morgan held up one finger. "One year minimum."
A second finger. "Ten years average."
She slowly raised a third.
"…And possibly a hundred."
Alex stared at her in silence.
Morgan gave him a pitying but gleeful look.
"Which means," she said sweetly, "if you want to get either of them pregnant…"
She leaned in close.
"You're going to have to have sex with her…"
"…non-stop."
Alex blinked again. "…For years."
Morgan smiled with all the serenity of a glacier falling into the sea.
"At least."
Alex leaned back, eyes unfocused for a moment.
He thought about it.
Hard.
On one hand—he did have superhuman endurance.
Technically, with his regeneration and post-physical vitality, he could go without sleep for years, eat with mana crystals, and handle unbroken intercourse without dying.
It was entirely feasible.
But still—
"Years…?" he murmured aloud. "Like… daily? Hourly?"
Morgan nodded solemnly. "Multiple times a day. No days off."
He placed a hand over his face.
Morgan clapped him on the shoulder lightly, voice filled with mock sympathy.
"Don't worry."
"At least Mira will enjoy every second of it."
Alex groaned.
"…And Mary?"
Morgan smirked. "She'll probably apologize every time… while Mira tries to break your pelvis."
Alex slumped back into the grass.
"…Why is my life like this?"
Morgan stood, brushing off her skirt.
"Because you're loved."
She paused.
"And cursed."
Then she walked away.
Humming.