Gasper's POV
A year had passed since Sirzechs's collapse. The training fields below were more intense than ever
—Rias's peerage dominated, fully outpacing Sona's in every mock battle.
As I placed a warm cup of tea in front of Venelana, I couldn't help but admire how much the balance of power had shifted.
Rias, now fourteen, had matured into her role. At twelve, I was still the androgynous, slender Bishop of her peerage, yet no one saw me as weak anymore. My role in our rise remained quiet—guiding, shaping, influencing. It worked exactly how I wanted it to.
Venelana had grown accustomed to my presence. I served her tea now almost daily. It started formally—"Duchess" and "Butler"—but the boundary was beginning to blur. She never said it aloud, but I could sense the change.
And Grayfia… her feelings had evolved just as drastically.
The "Cougar Trap" had long since bloomed, but this… this went beyond simple attraction.
They loved me now.
Not a fantasy. Not a game.
Actual, heavy, dangerous love.
As Venelana lifted her tea, I stood silently behind her—my usual post. She always delayed sipping, like she wanted the moment to stretch. Her glances were more frequent, the space between us more charged.
Venelana. Grayfia. Both women I admired—powerful, cold, untouchable… until they weren't.
From time to time, I exchanged smiles and gentle jokes with Serafall too, whenever she visited with Sona's peerage. Her attention was lighter, sillier—but behind it, I saw interest. Curiosity. Temptation.
I remained patient.
Let them all walk toward me.
Venelana's POV
Absurd.
It's completely absurd.
I'm the Duchess of Gremory. A respected noble. A wife, a mother… and I'm falling in love with a twelve-year-old.
It's not right. Not proper. Not even devilish.
Gasper stands behind me quietly—hands folded neatly, posture perfect. He's just a child, and yet, his presence feels composed, purposeful. And his gaze… So focused.
No ordinary boy looks like that.
I catch myself watching him too often. Noticing the curve of his cheek, the softness of his voice, the intelligence in his silence. I laugh at his gentle words, and my heart jumps when our fingers graze.
Each moment that passes, I fall deeper into something I can't name.
No. I can name it.
Love.
It's terrifying.
I lift my tea, letting the scent rise into my nose to calm my nerves.
He is respectful. Obedient. Beautiful.
Why does that make me want him more?
I clear my throat softly and glance to the side.
"You may return to your other duties, Gasper."
He bows, as he always does—graceful, poised. Too perfect.
I watch him leave.
And inside, I crumble just a little more.
Grayfia's POV
Sirzechs stood at attention—hands folded, gaze down—as he read aloud the daily reports.
And I?
I sat in his chair.
Back straight. Legs crossed. The velvet armrests cradled my arms as though they had always belonged to me.
I still wore the maid uniform. Not because I had to—but because it amused me. No one questioned it. No one dared. Even Sirzechs never asked why I hadn't adopted a Queen's formal attire.
Appearances were useful.
Illusions even more so.
Since the day I gave him the potion, Sirzechs had not once defied me. Not subtly, not openly. He couldn't. His loyalty was absolute—etched into his being.
And I used that loyalty mercilessly.
He had already signed covert alliance papers with minor houses in the old Satan faction—nothing suspicious enough to raise alarms, but enough to loosen the current regime's stranglehold.
I even had him reach out to a handful of Grigori contacts. They believed he was acting of his own accord. After all, he still smiled, still joked, still carried himself like a calm, benevolent ruler.
Only I knew the strings were mine.
He continued reading: "Economic alliance between House Andrealphus and Gremory has been approved by council vote…"
I tuned out.
My mind wandered back to earlier in the day.
I had watched Gasper and Venelana interact again—she smiled too warmly, laughed too freely. I recognized every gesture.
I understood exactly what she felt.
Because I felt it too.
Once, I believed Gasper was a beautiful tool—sharp, pliable, and easy to control. But I had been mistaken.
The longer I observed him, the more I get drawn toward him.
And somehow, in the quiet shadows of my growing empire, I had fallen for him.
Truly.
Completely.
It was foolish, absurd. He was young, and I was cold. But when he looked at me—when he flushed under my teasing—I felt something rare. Something real.
I did not love easily. I am even surprised that I am capable of loving because I haven't loved anyone but myself.
But I loved him.
And I would ensure that when the time came… I would not be discarded. Not by him.
Sirzechs finished reading, his voice flat and unwavering.
I gestured faintly. "Set the papers aside."
He did so without protest.
I leaned back in the chair and folded my fingers in my lap, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
I have plans for you too, Gasper.
Plans that will rewrite the Underworld itself.
End of Chapter 8