Even though, last night—at the moments when reason collapsed and she nearly lost consciousness—Cocolia's attendant had slipped in more than once, soundless as a shadow, bringing warm water to replenish what they'd violently sweated out…
Even though, in that woman's eyes, Serval's body had long since ceased to have any secrets—those drenched rises and falls, the uncontrolled sounds, even the most private places all observed with the same calm professionalism…
Now, with the heat gone and clarity returning, asking Serval to bare herself in front of a third party as casually as Cocolia did—
That was far beyond what Serval could psychologically endure.
Cocolia, meanwhile, completely ignored the fact that her body was exposed to the guard's gaze. Her voice was steady, flat, and authoritative as she issued an order:
"Bring Bronya here. Immediately."
"…?"
Under the thin blanket, Serval's whole body went rigid.
With only her eyes exposed, she stared around in disbelief at the wreckage of the "battlefield"—
Clothes tangled across the carpet, scattered objects whose shapes were far too suggestive, the lingering atmosphere in the air that still hadn't dissipated…
"Hey—!!"
A stifled yelp finally burst out from beneath the blanket.
Serval snapped her head toward Cocolia's profile—so calm it bordered on cruel—and looked into those eyes that, not long ago, had been filled with warmth and tenderness, and now were utterly still.
Are you serious?
Right now?
Here?
But her silent protest was ignored.
The loyal attendant didn't hesitate or ask a single question. She only dipped her head, then withdrew quickly and noiselessly. The door closed softly behind her, sealing the room.
Ten seconds.
The door opened again.
Bronya appeared in the doorway—stride crisp, posture straight—clearly, like the guard, she'd been waiting nearby for her mother's summons.
But the instant her left foot crossed the threshold, she froze as if nailed to the floor.
While she'd been waiting outside, she'd already caught fragments of last night's intensity from the low, reverent, curiosity-laced whispers of the female guards on duty.
But what she saw now still obliterated the limits of her thin imagination.
Those toys—strewn across the floor, jammed into corners, half-hanging off the back of a chair—varied in shape, some almost vicious-looking, with water stains that made it painfully clear how thoroughly they'd been used.
The air was thick with a cloying, suffocating blend of sweat, lubricant, and the sweet heaviness that followed excess.
Clothes lay everywhere like abandoned flags, declaring how ferocious last night's war had been.
Bronya swallowed reflexively. Her throat bobbed, heart hammering in her chest.
Only one thought remained in her mind:
…Mother really is something else.
She forced her gaze away—only to catch, at the edge of her vision, the unmistakable outline of an incredibly full, rounded hip rising high beneath a blanket, and the shock of dazzling blonde hair with blue streaks scattered across the pillow.
There was no need to name who it was.
She dropped her eyes at once, locking her attention on her mother with practiced discipline, and—out of pure survival instinct—said nothing about Serval's ostrich-like decision to bury her entire face in the pillow.
Cocolia acted as though she couldn't feel her daughter's embarrassment or the room's absurd tension at all.
With the detached calm of a supreme leader, she lifted the blanket, stepped barefoot onto the cool floor, and walked over the scattered clothes.
Her movements were smooth and natural—no cover, no shame, as if this entire mess had nothing to do with her.
She picked up a clean black bodysuit stocking from the table.
Her long, strong legs slid into it with effortless elegance, the fabric drawn up inch by inch until it sealed her from toes to torso.
Bronya drew a slow breath, forcing down the storm in her chest. She pressed her knees together, stood straight, rebuilt a serious, focused expression, and fixed her eyes on her mother while she dressed.
Cocolia finished smoothing the bodysuit's folds, the fabric outlining her figure with startling clarity.
Then she turned—and without a single wasted word, went straight to the point. Her voice was level, but it left no room for refusal.
"You are to take a team at once. In my name, issue a formal order to detain the three Nameless from yesterday. Place them under strict surveillance. If necessary, use force."
Bronya blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt command—so completely opposite to her mother's stance yesterday.
But she did not question it.
A soldier's instinct snapped into place. All surprise vanished behind discipline. She straightened her spine.
"Yes, Mother."
The answer was crisp.
She turned almost too quickly—half an escape—fleeing the room with steps just a shade too urgent.
That thick air, laced with lust and authority, felt like it was crushing her lungs.
The instant Cocolia said the word detain—
Under the blanket, that heavy curve of Serval's hips jolted upward, rigid for a full second, before collapsing again.
The soft click of the closing door hadn't even finished echoing when Serval flung the blanket aside and shot upright.
There was no shame left on her face now—only shock and dread. She stared at Cocolia's back, voice trembling.
"Cocolia… don't tell me you—"
The rest stuck in her throat, the ending of the sentence shaking with fear.
She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud:
Has the Stellaron taken you again?
Cocolia turned.
Serval's gaze swept over her in frantic detail.
Cocolia wore only the tight black bodysuit stocking; her curves were on full display—yet there was not a trace of frost, not a single sign of Stellaron corruption spreading.
And when those eyes looked at Serval, there was no madness, no cold cruelty.
Instead, they were like meltwater in early spring—warm, gentle—and they soothed the panic in Serval's eyes almost instantly.
The boulder in Serval's chest loosened slightly.
But a larger question rose in its place:
If it wasn't the Stellaron, then why issue such a command?
Cocolia let out a deep sigh.
She gave up on dressing further, walked back to the bed, and sat down. The mattress sank softly beneath her.
"After you fell asleep last night," she said quietly, "a lot happened…"
Serval's heart clenched.
She lunged forward at once, wrapping her arms around Cocolia from behind, pressing her warm chest to Cocolia's cooler back.
Her legs, as naturally as they had last night, coiled around Cocolia's waist, holding tight.
She buried her face into Cocolia's neck, greedily breathing in her scent, and spoke with a softness that hid a stubborn insistence—hot breath brushing Cocolia's sensitive ear.
"Tell me."
The tone was gentle, but it was also possessive—carrying the intimacy and exclusivity that still clung from the night before.
"…Mm."
Cocolia responded softly. Feeling the warmth and dependence at her back, she began in a low voice:
"After you fell asleep… my consciousness was pulled into a special dimension."
Serval's arms tightened unconsciously.
"It's called Between Hearts."
Cocolia continued, describing the mysterious realm.
"It's a dimensional space that formed on its own after the Heart Path was born into the universe—a vast, invisible web that links every living mind. Boundless, intangible… and yet everywhere."
"And by chance," she said, as if tasting that strange sense of control again, "I found… a large fragment of the mirror there."
She paused.
"With that fragment's power, I gained something close to an Emanator-level authorization within Between Hearts. And in that moment, I came to understand…"
Her voice grew heavier, darker.
"…that the trouble facing Belobog is far beyond what we imagined. Like enormous shadows lurking beneath the ice—more lethal than the eternal winter."
Serval's stomach sank. The sense of dread sharpened, thickening with every word.
She said nothing—only held Cocolia even tighter, as if she could share the weight by force.
After a long silence, she inhaled hard, exhaustion in her voice but steel underneath it.
"Whatever it is… say it. I'm listening."
Cocolia felt the heat against her back and continued.
"First: the Antimatter Legion. We always believed the blizzard wiped them out completely."
Serval's body tensed.
"But it didn't." Cocolia's voice cooled. "The winter only froze them. It did not truly kill them. In Between Hearts, I can clearly sense that their cold will has not dispersed."
"When the Stellaron is sealed, the winter will inevitably recede…"
"They will awaken—slowly—and become a threat again."
Then her tone eased, just slightly.
"Not immediately. Their full revival will take a long time. We have a few hundred years of buffer."
Serval's scalp went numb.
A few hundred years—said like it was nothing.
That meant generations living under the shadow of ruin.
"And during that time," Cocolia said, "the Astral Express gives us an opening. Belobog will reconnect with the galaxy—communication, trade, research. We'll gain new knowledge, technology, allies… we'll become stronger."
"The Legion is a great calamity, yes—but not one without solutions."
Even that alone felt like a hammer blow.
But Cocolia's tone made it clear:
That was only the overture.
Serval pressed her forehead against Cocolia's neck in silent urging.
"The real danger," Cocolia said, "lies in what comes after we reconnect with the galaxy."
Her voice sank fully, heavy with approaching storm.
"Last night, in Between Hearts, I used that Emanator-level authorization to conduct a wide-range consciousness scan."
"And I found…"
Serval's breath caught.
"…that Belobog has recently been noticed by a colossus. The Interastral Peace Corporation."
"A force so massive that even across the galaxy… it's a giant among giants."
"…What does Belobog have to do with the IPC?" Serval asked, confusion laced with dread.
"Debt, Serval."
Cocolia's fingertip traced along the arm Serval had locked across her chest.
"I only learned last night. Seven hundred years ago, to resist the Antimatter Legion's invasion and save Belobog at the brink of annihilation…"
"the ruling administration—acting in Belobog's name—took out an emergency military loan from the IPC, purchasing the most cutting-edge weapons, defense systems, and survival supplies of that era."
"Seven hundred years," she continued. "The winter sealed everything. We forgot the debt—or perhaps we never had the luxury to remember it. Survival left no room."
"And the IPC… it seems they forgot us too."
"…Until now."
"The time interest has compounded into a number beyond despair. Even if you packaged up all of Belobog and sold it piece by piece—every brick, every scrap of technological legacy…"
"even if you sold our freedom…"
"It still wouldn't cover even a fraction of the interest."
Serval swayed with vertigo, tightening around Cocolia like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood.
So what is this?
If the Nameless never came, Belobog would slowly die under the winter and the Stellaron.
If they came…
They would draw the gaze of something that could swallow Belobog whole, skin and bone, in an instant.
This wasn't "out of the wolf's den, into the tiger's mouth."
This was fate's cruelest joke.
"Then your order just now…" Serval's voice rasped. "Detaining the Nameless…"
At last, she forced the connection between two horrors that seemed unrelated.
Cocolia's eyes sharpened.
"All my plans before this were about handing Belobog to Bronya as steadily and as cleanly as possible."
"But if I do that now…"
Her voice turned cutting.
"…I would be shoving her onto the pyre with my own hands."
"I would make my daughter the one who signs that humiliating contract—selling Belobog to the IPC as debt collateral."
"Turning her into a criminal condemned by history. A name cursed for ten thousand generations."
Her nails bit into her palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks.
"I will not let Bronya carry that fate."
Her voice hardened further.
"Before the IPC arrives, I must raise Belobog's value in their eyes—immediately, at any cost."
"The Nameless…" Serval whispered.
"Exactly." Cocolia's gaze flashed with a desperate, all-in light. "The Astral Express's credibility is the key."
"The Express has weight across the universe. Its face is one even the IPC cannot wholly disregard."
Cocolia's lips lifted into a smile that held no warmth.
"I'm sending Bronya to 'hunt' them. On the surface, it's hostility—suppression."
"But in Between Hearts, I calculated the direction of human intent."
"The Nameless will resist. And by temperament and capability, they will inevitably go down to the Underworld."
Serval's heart skipped. She was starting to see it.
"I will arrange it so that Bronya either is forced into being taken, or—because of some 'accident' or 'intel'—must go to the Underworld."
"And in my projected outcomes, what happens down there will ensure this:"
"The Nameless and Bronya will end up standing together."
"Fighting side by side."
"United…"
Cocolia's voice was calm—almost cold.
"…in opposition to me, the benighted tyrant."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 138)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter160)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter98)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter175)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 163
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 150
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 100
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 170
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 145
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 125
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player 69
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 90
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 66
Uma Musume: From Beginner 100
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 70
Uma Musume: I Want All 90
I Can Copy Unique Skills 65
Summoning an Evil God, but the 52
Supernatural Multiverse 65
My Harem Is Indescribable 55
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 55
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 66
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 55
Still playing traditional Honk 35
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 35
What Should I Do After Switchi 24
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 35
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 27
Transmigrated as Sukuna 27
Checking In in Demon Slayer 32
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 44
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