Watching Seraphina’s mortified, furious expression, Movira’s eyes curved with laughter.
A moment later, she suddenly propped herself up and did something that left Seraphina dumbfounded.
She actually began untying the ribbons of her own nightgown.
“W-wait… what are you doing?!”
The earlier shyness vanished instantly. Seraphina’s voice shot up an octave, eyes wide as saucers, mouth slightly open in shock.
She watched the luxurious black gown slide off Movira’s shoulders, revealing smooth skin and tempting curves beneath.
Every motion was calm and unhurried, as if she were merely removing a trivial accessory.
After tossing the gown aside, Movira lifted the quilt and slipped in without a shred of clothing, radiating breathtaking allure in the dim light…
“There we go.”
Movira lay on her side, head propped on one hand, smiling brightly at the petrified Seraphina.
“Now I’m undressed too. Fair’s fair—you take yours off as well! Mm~ Sleeping like this really is comfortable. I’m not lying.”
The mature, predatory beauty contrasted sharply with Seraphina’s own youthful body, making her gaze had nowhere safe to land.
Movira’s naked form was simply too overwhelming. Seraphina had known Movira was stunningly shaped, but seeing her completely bare like this was an entirely different impact.
“N-no way! This is emotional blackmail—I refuse!”
She made one last desperate struggle, but her voice was so weak it carried no weight.
“How is this blackmail? I’ve seen all of you, but you’ve never seen all of me. If anything, I’m the one at a loss here. Come on now.”
Movira’s voice was laced with irresistible temptation.
“The warmth under the quilt will escape… or are you waiting for me to help you?”
“No!”
“This won’t do, that won’t do… Looks like I really should let you experience it again…”
The way Movira lingered on that final “again” instantly dragged Seraphina’s mind back to the afternoon’s scene…
Shame, panic, and chaos flooded her brain.
Rather than be… taken again, maybe it was better to just…
Besides, Movira could overpower her as easily as playing a game. Resistance was only a matter of… intensity.
And so, under that gaze that allowed no refusal, Seraphina began, very, very slowly, to undo her own clothes…
She deliberately dragged out every motion. Movira urged her several times from behind.
Finally, with the determination of someone marching to the gallows, Seraphina shed the last barrier. Cool air brushed her skin—it felt disturbingly similar to the start of this afternoon…
She shivered, then shot under the quilt like an arrow, and pressed herself against the farthest edge of the bed, as far from that dangerous heat source as possible.
Yet Movira would never allow such distance. One arm easily looped around her waist and dragged her from the edge straight to the center.
“Mm—!”
Seraphina squeaked as her face buried helplessly into Movira’s soft chest, instantly enveloped in fragrance.
Their bare bodies pressed together with no barrier at all.
The slick warmth of Movira’s skin was terrifyingly vivid, transmitting straight into Seraphina’s brain through every point of contact.
Seraphina froze like steel, not daring to move a muscle, terrified that the slightest shift would intensify the sensation.
“Relax.”
Movira’s whisper sounded above her head while her arms only tightened, locking Seraphina firmly in this cage.
“Let’s sleep just like this tonight. I did tell you—in bed… you cannot command me.”
…
Several days later, at court…
Because Movira had once again taken personal control of state affairs, the session was held in the Demon King’s Hall.
The atmosphere inside the hall was frozen and oppressive, a heavy pressure weighing on every demon minister present.
On the towering throne, the scene was enough to make even the oldest retainers dizzy—yet they suppressed every flicker of emotion with iron will.
Movira lounged casually against the wide backrest, her black robes flowing like liquid night across the throne.
And in her lap, almost completely enveloped, sat Seraphina—slim body nestled between soft fabric and Movira’s embrace.
Seraphina was dressed formally, yet in this position every shred of regality was twisted into something else entirely.
Unnatural crimson stained her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears.
It had started that morning…
Movira had suddenly asked if she wanted to sit on the throne again.
Seraphina, remembering the last time, shook her head frantically.
Movira pretended to agree and simply said this court session would be held in the Demon King’s Hall and that Seraphina must dress properly and attend with her.
But…
“Liar! When you said ‘attend court together’… is this what you meant?!”
The girl in her arms wanted nothing more than to curl into a smaller ball and disappear completely into Movira’s embrace.
Her tiny curses reached Movira’s ears clearly, yet Movira pretended not to hear.
The officials below were exquisitely tactful—every single one kept their heads bowed, staring fixedly at the floor tiles in front of their feet.
Even the clan leaders who prided themselves on etiquette abandoned posture; they stood hunch-shouldered and round-backed.
They did not dare look. Absolutely did not dare!
Especially Duke Dekrian—if he wished to remain in Seraphina’s good graces, even tilting his head slightly would spell doom.
The Flame Demon marquis, who had once openly challenged Seraphina in this very hall, now stood silent as cold charcoal, all flames extinguished.
Clearly the result of Movira’s recent “private conversation.”
The court session proceeded in this oppressive, bizarre atmosphere.
Reports on the Ashen Corridor were unusually concise and efficient; the newly appointed governors-general delivered their summaries in the most refined language possible.
Everyone tacitly understood: the true focus and source of pressure was not the reports, but the two figures upon the throne…
Seraphina felt she might melt from the prolonged silent scrutiny and the body heat beside her.
Just as the session neared its end and the demons prepared to exhale in relief, believing the ordeal over—
Of course Seraphina thought the same.
But then…
A figure appeared at the entrance of the hall.
Every gaze snapped toward it, an irrepressible uproar rising.
Lina stood there!
Dressed in a sharp, dark, form-fitting long gown that looked almost like battle robes, high collar accentuating her upright posture, long hair tied high.
She was clearly travel-worn, having only just returned to the Demon King’s Castle.
“She’s here?”
“A mere human… how is she worthy?”