This is a disaster.
The phrase echoed in my head like a mantra. I had repeated it so many times over the last twenty-four hours that it had almost lost all meaning. But it was still true. Absolutely true. One day. Only one day had passed since Morgan le Fay emerged from the summoning circle, kissed me in front of all my Servants, and proclaimed herself my "first wife." One day since absolute chaos had broken out in Chaldea. And far from calming down, things had gotten worse.
I was sitting in the cafeteria, with a cup of coffee that had gone cold half an hour ago, watching the comings and goings of my Servants. Well, it wasn't a normal coming and going. It was a tense coming and going, loaded with murderous stares, snorts, and whispers that weren't as quiet as their authors believed. The very air seemed electrified, as if a storm was about to break at any moment.
"You have bags under your eyes," observed Tezcatlipoca.
"Thank you for reminding me."
"It is my duty as your Persona to inform you of your condition. You're also frowning. And your shoulders are tense. And..."
"Alright, alright. I'm stressed. I know."
"Stressed is an understatement. You've spent a whole day keeping your Servants from killing each other. And all because of Morgan."
Morgan. Artoria's sister. The fairy queen. My new Berserker. The woman who, according to her, was my wife in some future that hadn't happened yet. Her arrival had shaken Chaldea's hornet's nest with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. And not just because she couldn't go a single moment without fighting with Artoria over the most trivial nonsense—yesterday they argued for twenty minutes about the correct way to fold a napkin, and I still hadn't recovered—but because she was also looking for trouble with my other girlfriends.
Her strategy was simple but effective: impose herself as the official wife. First among equals. The queen consort. And that, in a harem where several women already considered themselves my wives, was a declaration of war.
"Let's see," I said to myself mentally, reviewing the state of the situation. "Let's analyze the factions."
Tamamo no Mae considered herself my lawful wife. She called me Goshujin-sama and acted like a devoted housewife. To her, Morgan was an intruder who had arrived late and was trying to steal her position. Every time Morgan made a comment about "my husband," Tamamo's tails bristled and her fox eyes gleamed with murderous fury.
Kiyohime also considered herself my wife. In her mind, our marriage was a done deal from the moment we met, and any woman who came near me was a threat. Her reaction to Morgan had been... volcanic. Literally. Yesterday, when Morgan kissed me, Kiyohime started transforming into a dragon. It had taken five minutes of caresses and soothing words to bring her back to human form.
Scáthach didn't consider herself my wife the same way the others did. She considered me her disciple, her consort, her property. She had marked me in America with a kiss and a bite, and since then she called me "husband" with a naturalness that sometimes chilled my blood. Her attitude toward Morgan was... unpredictable. Sometimes she seemed amused. Other times, her crimson eyes looked at me with an intensity that promised future punishments if I didn't "fix the situation."
Nero Claudius brought the least drama. Yes, she called me "my Caesar of the heart." Yes, she dedicated odes and plays to me. Yes, she was theatrical, exuberant, and sometimes exhausting. But she was also surprisingly self-assured. She didn't need to compete. She knew her place in the harem and trusted it. When Morgan proclaimed herself "first wife," Nero simply laughed and said, "How amusing! A new actress on the stage! Let the show begin!" Her carefree attitude was a balm in the midst of the chaos.
But the others...
The Jeannes were a separate case. Jeanne Ruler wasn't technically in a relationship with me. We hadn't formalized anything, although we'd had moments of romantic tension and she had accepted the collective marriage proposal. However, that didn't stop her from being jealous. Her cheeks flushed red every time Morgan came near me. Her fingers fidgeted nervously with her banner. And her prayers had become more frequent, probably asking heaven for the strength not to commit a sin... or to commit it.
Jeanne Alter was indeed one of my girlfriends. Officially. And her reaction to Morgan had been, in her own words, "explosive." Yesterday, when Morgan kissed me, Jeanne Alter had been about to incinerate the entire summoning room with her black flame. She had screamed. She had cursed. She had threatened to reduce Morgan to ashes. Only the intervention of the other Servants—and my promise to spend time with her—had prevented a catastrophe. Today she was calmer, but her eyes kept shooting cold glances at Morgan whenever she saw her. With me, on the other hand, she had adopted her new tender tsundere mode: she still insulted me, but her insults were softer, and her gestures warmer. She had brought me coffee this morning. Without my asking. That, coming from her, was a declaration of love.
But of all of them, the ones who had reacted the worst to Morgan's comments were the Artorias in their Alter versions.
Artoria Pendragon Saber—the original, the one from Fuyuki, my first Servant—was not in a romantic relationship with me. There was a reason for that, one I deeply respected: Artoria still held in her memory the promise of love she had made to someone else. Someone she had loved in life. Someone she could not betray, even after becoming a Heroic Spirit. Therefore, although our relationship was one of deep friendship and camaraderie, there was no romance. And I accepted that. Artoria Saber was one of my most loyal allies, and that was enough.
But even she, who did not see me as a partner, reacted to her sister's comments. Morgan and Artoria had a long and bitter history, full of betrayals, wars, and resentments dating back to 5th-century Britannia. Every time Morgan opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, Artoria Saber responded with an icy retort. It wasn't a lover's quarrel. It was a sister's quarrel. And it was just as exhausting.
Artoria Pendragon Lancer—the former Lion King, the redeemed goddess—was also in an ambiguous situation. Since her arrival in Chaldea, she had shown interest in me. Her green eyes followed me through the corridors. Her questions about my battles were more personal than professional. There was a spark there, a curiosity that went beyond the alliance. But we still hadn't formalized anything. Her relationship with me was in that undefined space between friendship and romance, and she seemed to be exploring it slowly, without hurry. Her reaction to Morgan was more restrained than that of the Alters, but no less intense: she observed her with a dangerous calm, like a predator sizing up a rival.
But the Alters... ah, the Alters.
Artoria Saber Alter and Artoria Lancer Alter stopped at nothing. They were the dark versions of the legend, the ones who had embraced tyranny or the storm, and their concept of "sharing" was practically nonexistent. To them, Morgan was not just an intruder. She was an existential threat. An enemy to be crushed.
Yesterday, Saber Alter had challenged Morgan to a duel. In the middle of the cafeteria. With Excalibur Morgan drawn. It had taken ten minutes to convince her to put the sword away. Lancer Alter, for her part, had been about to skewer Morgan with her dark Rhongomyniad when the sorceress commented that "Altered versions are always inferior to the originals." It had been a miracle that no blood had been spilled.
And then there was Mordred. The Knight of Treachery, the daughter—or son, she preferred to be treated as a woman now—of Artoria. She had witnessed the whole chaos with an expression of utter exasperation. "I'm staying out of this," she had said, raising her hands. "I have enough with my own problems with Father to get involved in a war between sisters and lovers. I'm out." And she had gone off to train in the gym. She was probably the wisest of all.
"So this is the landscape," I summarized mentally. "A divided harem. A cold war between sisters. Jealousy everywhere. And me in the center, trying to keep it all from exploding."
"Basically," confirmed Tezcatlipoca.
"Any suggestions?"
"Yes. Impose order. You are the Master. They respect you. If you let the chaos continue, someone will get hurt."
"I don't want to be a tyrant."
"I'm not asking you to be a tyrant. I'm asking you to be a leader. A leader sets boundaries. A leader punishes when necessary. A leader... acts."
I pondered his words. He was right. For too long, I had let the harem self-manage with a rotation schedule and tacit agreements. It had worked, more or less, because they were all willing to give in a little to keep the peace. But Morgan had arrived and kicked over the board. Her defiant attitude, her insistence on being the "official wife," her lack of respect for existing agreements... all of it was pushing Chaldea to the brink of collapse.
If I didn't do something soon, someone would get hurt. And I wasn't going to allow that.
The final outburst happened that same afternoon.
I was in the common room, trying to read a report from Da Vinci about preparations for the Seventh Singularity, when the sound of angry voices pulled me out of my concentration. At first, I tried to ignore it. Arguments in Chaldea were as common as Roman's coffee. But when the volume rose and I began to make out words like "harpy," "husband thief," and "I'm going to reduce you to ashes," I knew I had to intervene.
I stood up and walked toward the source of the noise. It was in the hallway leading to the bedrooms, in front of the door to my own quarters. And the scene I found chilled my blood.
Tamamo no Mae stood tall, her nine tails spread out in a fan and her talismans floating around her like a swarm of hornets. Her fox eyes shone with a golden fire that boded nothing good.
Kiyohime was beside her, her body partially transformed: bluish scales covered her forearms and her eyes had become slitted, like a dragon's. A wisp of smoke escaped her mouth, and her fingers curved into claws.
Scáthach was leaning against the wall, Gae Bolg in hand. She didn't seem as furious as the others, but her predatory smile and her crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation were equally unsettling. She was enjoying the show, and that was dangerous.
Artoria Saber Alter stood before them, Excalibur Morgan drawn. Her black armor absorbed the light of the hallway, and her golden gaze was a block of ice.
Artoria Lancer Alter was at her side, her dark Rhongomyniad aimed forward. Her posture was that of a predator ready to strike.
And in the center, facing all of them, Morgan le Fay smiled. She simply smiled. Her dark crystal staff glowed with an inner light, and her blue eyes swept over her opponents with a mixture of amusement and contempt.
"How adorable," Morgan said, her voice smooth as silk. "All of you, united against me. Do you truly believe you can intimidate the Fairy Queen?"
"We're not trying to intimidate you," Saber Alter replied, her tone icy. "We're trying to eliminate you."
"That would be a mistake. I am your Master's wife. If you harm me, he will suffer. Do you wish to make Leonel suffer?"
"You are not his wife," Tamamo intervened, her tails lashing the air. "I am his wife! I care for him, I pamper him, I feed him! You've done nothing for him!"
"I have come from the future to be at his side," Morgan answered, unfazed. "That is more than you have done, vixen."
"VIXEN?!"
"That is what you are, is it not? A vixen. Literally." Morgan laughed, a crystalline laugh that echoed in the hallway. "I did not mean to offend you. I was merely stating a fact."
"I'm going to kill you!" Tamamo roared, stepping forward.
"Not if I kill you first!" Kiyohime added, her transformation advancing.
"How interesting," Scáthach murmured, her smile widening. "It has been centuries since I saw a concubine fight. May I join?"
"You are not a concubine," Saber Alter snapped. "You are a teacher. Stay out of it."
"I am whatever I wish to be. And right now, I wish to be the one who teaches that sorceress a lesson."
"I probably shouldn't say this," Lancer Alter intervened, her voice deep, "but I agree with Scáthach."
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "All of you against me? How unfair. Should you not take turns? As you do with my husband."
"HE IS NOT YOUR HUSBAND!"
My eyebrow began to twitch. It wasn't just any nervous tic. It was the twitch of someone who had reached the limit of their patience. I had endured arguments about napkins. I had endured sword duels in the cafeteria. I had endured death threats, insults, and Scáthach fanning the flames. But this... this was too much.
I stepped forward. All heads turned toward me.
"Enough."
My voice wasn't loud. It wasn't authoritarian. It was simply... cold. Like steel before battle. And for some reason, that made them all fall silent.
"I have put up with your arguments for a whole day," I continued, advancing slowly toward the center of the hallway. "I have put up with your insults, your threats, your fights. I've tried to be patient. I've tried to mediate. I've tried to find a peaceful solution." I stopped in front of Morgan, looking her directly in the eyes. "But I've had enough."
Morgan blinked, for the first time without her smile of superiority.
"You," I said, pointing at her. "You arrived in Chaldea and immediately began sowing chaos. You proclaimed yourself the official wife without consulting me. You insulted my other girlfriends. You provoked fights. You've driven the situation to an unacceptable point."
"Husband, I was only..."
"Don't interrupt me." My tone silenced her. Her blue eyes widened slightly. "I understand you have memories of a future where we are together. I respect that. But this is not that future. Here and now, I am the Master of Chaldea. And you are a newly arrived Servant. You have no right to impose yourself on the others."
Morgan lowered her gaze. She said nothing.
I turned to the others.
"Tamamo. Kiyohime. Scáthach. Artoria Saber Alter. Artoria Lancer Alter." I named them one by one, and each tensed upon hearing her name. "You are also responsible. You responded to Morgan's provocations with more provocations. You threatened violence. You came close to turning Chaldea into a battlefield. And that is unacceptable."
"But Goshujin-sama..." Tamamo began.
"No buts."
She closed her mouth, her tails drooping limply.
"You are all adults. Some of you are queens. Others are legendary warriors. Others are goddesses. And you behave like children fighting over a toy?" I swept my gaze over them. "What example does that set for the other Servants? For the staff? For Mash? For the newcomers?"
The silence was absolute. Even Scáthach, who usually looked at me with superiority, seemed uncomfortable.
"Therefore," I continued, "I am going to take measures. Measures I should have taken long ago." I took a deep breath. "From this moment on, you are all punished."
"Punished?" Saber Alter repeated, her tone incredulous.
"Punished. You will not sleep in my room. You will not accompany me at night. You will not have turns on the schedule. Until we finish the next Singularity."
Horror painted itself on their faces.
"Goshujin-sama, no!" Tamamo exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears. "That is far too cruel!"
"Cruel?" I raised an eyebrow. "More cruel than threatening to kill another of my Servants? More cruel than turning my home into a circus?"
"But Anchin-sama..." Kiyohime stepped forward, her scales disappearing. "I only wanted to defend your honor..."
"My honor doesn't need to be defended with violence. And it certainly doesn't need you fighting among yourselves like... like..."
"Like what?" Scáthach asked, with a half-smile.
"Like a sultan's harem," I answered, fixing her with my stare.
Scáthach blinked. Her half-smile vanished. I had hit the nail on the head, and she knew it.
"But don't worry," I added, in a softer tone. "The punishment is temporary. When we finish Babylonia, if you have learned your lesson, we can return to normal. Until then... I want peace. I want silence. I want you to behave like the heroines you are, not like the antagonists of a soap opera."
No one said anything. Tamamo sobbed quietly. Kiyohime's eyes were bright. Saber Alter and Lancer Alter stared at the floor, their swords sheathed. Morgan remained motionless, her expression indecipherable. And Scáthach... Scáthach looked at me with a strange intensity. As if she were reassessing me.
"And who are you to punish us?" Scáthach asked, her voice a dangerous purr. "You are my disciple, Leonel. My consort. But you are still my disciple. Do you think you can impose a punishment on me as if I were a child?"
I met her gaze defiantly. And then, without taking my eyes off hers, I raised my right hand. The three command seals resting on the back of my hand—the last one had regenerated during the two weeks of peace—shone with a crimson light.
"I am your Master," I said, my voice firm. "And if necessary, I will use every one of these seals to ensure this punishment is carried out."
Scáthach took a step back. It was a small step, almost imperceptible, but she took it. Her crimson eyes widened slightly. And then, to my surprise, a faint blush colored her cheeks.
"You're backing down," I observed.
"I am not backing down," she replied, but her voice had lost its defiant tone. "I'm simply... reconsidering my position."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes." She crossed her arms, looking away. "Perhaps... I went too far. Perhaps we all went too far." She paused. "I accept your punishment, Master."
The others looked at her, surprised. Scáthach did not apologize. Scáthach did not accept punishments. Scáthach was the woman who had killed gods, the immortal queen of the Land of Shadows. And there she was, cheeks flushed and gaze lowered, submitting to my authority.
It was strange. Very strange.
"You've triggered something in her," Tezcatlipoca commented.
"What?"
"That's for you to find out."
"I also accept the punishment," Tamamo said in a thread of a voice. "Goshujin-sama is right. I behaved badly. I'm sorry."
"And I," Kiyohime added. "I'm sorry, Anchin-sama. Please don't hate me."
"And we," Saber Alter and Lancer Alter said in unison, though their voices were reluctant.
"I too regret having caused this situation," Morgan said finally, her tone softer than before. "My intention was not... to create discord. I only wanted to be at your side, my husband. But I see I have been too aggressive. I'm sorry."
I nodded slowly. "Good. Then the punishment stands. Starting tonight, I will sleep alone."
"But Goshujin-sama!" Tamamo exclaimed. "That's not fair to the ones who didn't participate!"
"Who didn't participate?"
"Nero! And the Jeannes! They're not punished!"
"Nero, Jeanne Ruler, and Jeanne Alter were not about to kill each other in this hallway," I replied, with a half-smile. "They kept calm. They didn't threaten anyone. So yes, they are not punished."
Tamamo opened her mouth to protest but closed it at the sight of my expression. She knew I wasn't going to budge. And for the first time in a long while, I saw respect in her eyes. Not just love, not just possessiveness. Respect.
"Now," I continued, "I'm going to do something I should have done before."
I turned toward Jeanne Alter, who was in a corner of the hallway, watching the scene with her arms crossed and a poorly concealed expression of satisfaction. I held out my hand to her.
"Jeanne. Come with me."
She blinked. "Huh? Me?"
"Yes, you. You're my girlfriend. You kept calm. You didn't take part in this madness." I paused. "You deserve a reward."
Jeanne Alter blushed violently. She opened her mouth, closed it, and finally stammered, "I-It's no big deal, idiot. I just... didn't want to make things worse."
"And I appreciate it." I took her hand and drew her toward me. Then I slid my arm around her waist, very close to her rear, in a possessive gesture. "Let's go."
"W-What are you doing?!" she shrieked, but she didn't pull away. In fact, her hand clung tightly to mine.
"Showing who's in charge around here."
Nero appeared suddenly, as if she had been waiting in the wings. "My Caesar! You were magnificent! Your authority, your presence, your...!"
"Nero, you're coming too."
"OF COURSE I AM!" she exclaimed, running toward me.
But before she could position herself on my other side, she herself grabbed my hand and guided it down to her rear.
"If you're going to hold Jeanne like that," she said with a mischievous smile, "me too. It's only fair."
I froze. "Nero..."
"Come on, my Caesar. Squeeze." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Don't be shy."
I squeezed. Gently. Just enough for her to let out a satisfied sigh.
"That's how I like it. Now, where are we going?"
"To the cafeteria," I replied, trying to keep my voice from sounding too high-pitched. "I need to inform Da Vinci and Olga that the situation is under control."
"Then let's go!" Nero started walking, my hand still firmly planted on her backside. "What an exciting day!"
We left the hallway, leaving the punished behind. I felt their stares boring into my back. Tamamo sobbing. Kiyohime biting her lip. Scáthach with her flushed cheeks. The Artoria Alters with expressions of defeat. And Morgan, motionless, her blue eyes fixed on me, as if she were recording every detail of my back into her memory.
The cafeteria was almost empty when we arrived. Da Vinci and Olga Marie were seated at a table, with cups of coffee and tablets full of data. Upon seeing me enter with Jeanne Alter on one side and Nero on the other—my hand still on her bottom—both raised their eyebrows.
"I see the situation is... under control," Da Vinci said, with an amused smile.
"Under control and something more," Olga added, her tone exasperated but not angry. "May I ask why you have your hand on Nero's backside?"
"It's a long story," I replied, slowly withdrawing my hand. Nero let out a sigh of disappointment.
"I can imagine. The others?"
"Punished. Until we finish Babylonia."
Olga blinked. "Punished? All of them?"
"The ones who were about to kill each other in the hallway. Tamamo, Kiyohime, Scáthach, the Artoria Alters, Morgan." I paused. "I told them I won't sleep with them until the Seventh Singularity is over."
"Wow." Da Vinci let out a little laugh. "That's quite the ultimatum. And you think it will work?"
"If it doesn't, I have three Command Seals that say otherwise."
Olga stared at me. Then, slowly, she nodded. "You surprise me, Leonel. I didn't expect you to take such drastic measures."
"I was fed up. I couldn't let the situation escalate further."
"You did well." Olga sighed. "Chaldea is a serious facility. We can't allow personal disputes to affect the mission. If punishing them is what's necessary to keep the peace, then you have my support."
"And mine," Da Vinci added. "Though I must admit this is material for a fascinating sociological study. 'Harem Dynamics in High-Pressure Environments.' I could write a paper."
"Please don't."
"I make no promises."
I sighed. But in spite of everything, I felt... relieved. I had taken control. I had set boundaries. And even though I knew the next few weeks would be difficult—the punished ones weren't going to accept their situation without a fight—I had at least stopped the war before it broke out.
That night, I made good on my threat.
I lay down in my bed, the gray ceiling of my room my only company. Well, not exactly. To my right, Jeanne Alter slept curled up against my shoulder, her breathing soft and steady. She wore her usual clothes—she refused to wear pajamas—but had taken off her boots and armor. Her relaxed expression made her look almost vulnerable.
To my left, Nero slept in a far less modest position: she had shed her red tunic and wore a silk nightgown that barely covered the essentials. Her arm rested across my chest, and one of her legs was intertwined with mine. She slept with a beatific smile, as if dreaming of stages and standing ovations.
Both had earned their place. They had not participated in the chaos. They had kept calm. And for that, tonight, they were my companions.
In the hallway outside my room, I could sense the punished ones. I didn't see them, but I felt them. Tamamo was probably leaning against the door, her tails drooping and her fox eyes full of tears. Kiyohime would be sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, whispering "Anchin-sama..." The Artoria Alters had probably retreated to their rooms, too proud to stay in the hallway, but no less frustrated for it. Morgan would be in some corner, plotting her next move. And Scáthach...
Scáthach was confused. I knew it. I had seen her before bedtime, lingering in the hallway with an expression I had never seen on her. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed, and her crimson eyes looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and something else. Something I couldn't identify.
"What's wrong with Scáthach?" I asked Tezcatlipoca.
"That's called 'gap moe.'"
"Gap what?"
"Gap moe. It's a Japanese term. It describes the attraction someone feels when a person shows an unexpected side that contrasts with their usual personality. Scáthach knows you as a kind, patient, and affectionate Master. But today you showed your dominant side. You raised your voice. You threatened with the Command Seals. You imposed your will. And that... ignited something in her."
"Ignited?"
"Aroused, if you prefer the term. She won't admit it, of course. Her pride won't allow it. But there it is."
"And how do you know that?"
"I am the manifestation of your soul. And your soul, believe it or not, is quite perceptive about these things. You just don't always listen to yourself."
I reflected on his words. Scáthach, aroused because I had been dominant. It was a strange thought... but not far-fetched. After all, she had always been the teacher. The one who trained, the one who punished, the one who bit. Seeing her disciple reverse the roles must have been... shocking.
"Well, she'd better get used to it," I thought. "Because the punishment stands."
"You're harsh, Master."
"Someone has to be."
Meanwhile, in the hallway, Tamamo no Mae and Kiyohime shared a silent vigil. The nine-tailed fox was huddled against the wall, her talismans dim and her eyes fixed on the door to Leonel's room.
"I can't believe we're out here," Tamamo whispered. "While those two... those two..."
"Don't insult them," Kiyohime replied, with surprising calm. "Anchin-sama was fair. They didn't take part in the fight. We did."
"But Goshujin-sama is mine! Mine!"
"He's mine too. And the others'. And now... now we're punished." Kiyohime sighed. "We have to find a way to apologize."
"Apologize? It's Morgan's fault!"
"Morgan started the conflict. But we responded." Kiyohime rested her chin on her knees. "Anchin-sama is right. We are adults. We are heroines. We shouldn't be fighting like children."
Tamamo fell silent. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"What do we do, then?" the fox asked.
"I don't know. But we have to do something. If the next Singularity starts in a few weeks, and the punishment isn't lifted until it ends..." Kiyohime shuddered. "It could be more than a month. A month without sleeping with Anchin-sama. A month without feeling his warmth. A month without..."
"Don't say it!" Tamamo shrieked. "It's horrible enough to think about!"
"Then think about it. Because if we don't find a way to apologize, that's what awaits us."
Both fell silent. The threat of the punishment was real. And neither of them was willing to go an entire month without their dose of Leonel's affection.
Scáthach, leaning against the far wall, listened to the conversation without intervening. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed, and her mind was still caught on the image of Leonel raising the Command Seals, his gaze firm, his voice commanding.
"You are my Servant. And if necessary, I will use every one of these seals to ensure this punishment is carried out."
No one had ever spoken to her like that. Never. Not in centuries of existence. Not gods, not heroes, not monsters. And much less a simple human. Leonel Herrera, her disciple, her consort, her "husband"... had stood up to the immortal queen of the Land of Shadows. And instead of becoming enraged, she had become aroused. Instead of punishing him, she had backed down. Instead of asserting her dominance, she had submitted.
"How embarrassing," Scáthach thought, discreetly pressing her thighs together. "How utterly embarrassing."
But she couldn't deny what she felt. The gap moe was real. And it was devastating.
"Damn you, Leonel," she murmured to herself. "This isn't going to end here."
But it wasn't a threat. It was a promise. A promise that, when the punishment ended, she would find a way to make him pay... or to reward him. She wasn't sure which of the two.
That night, while the punished kept vigil in the hallway, Leonel slept peacefully between Jeanne Alter and Nero. It wasn't the first time he slept accompanied. But it was the first time he did so feeling that, at last, he had taken control of his own life. Of his own harem. Of his own destiny.
Tomorrow would be another day. The punished would seek a way to apologize. Morgan would plot her next move. Scáthach would grapple with her sudden attraction. And the Seventh Singularity loomed, inexorable, like a storm on the horizon.
But for now, for a brief moment, there was peace.