Back at the brothel, the mood was... tense.
Beatrice met us at the door, her usually warm face now a mask of controlled anger. Her eyes, those pools of fresh-spilled blood, narrowed as she took in the sight of us.
"I hope you have a damned good explanation for this," she said, her voice a low, dangerous purr.
"We do, Mother." Eva stepped forward, her chin held high. "But it's not something we can discuss here."
Beatrice's gaze flicked to me, then back to Eva.
"Very well. My office. Now."
The rescued slaves were led away by the gentler succubi like Akane, murmuring soft promises of food and warm baths as they guided them down a side corridor toward the baths.
As for me, Eva, and Rina, we followed Beatrice into her office.
The air inside was thick with the scent of old paper and cloying perfume. Beatrice didn't sit behind her desk. She stood, her hands clasped behind her back, radiating a quiet fury that was far more intimidating than any outburst.
"Start talking," she said, her eyes locking onto me. "And don't you dare leave out a single detail."
And so, I did.
I recounted the events of everything that happened, from the moment I saw Rina walking toward that dark alley, to the werewolf and the satyr kidnapping her, sending Umbra to track them down, the whole fight inside the pigman's office, the duel with the Oni, and the slaughter of the rest of the guards.
Throughout my story, I didn't leave out any detail, except the parts where I taught Rina how to devour her first soul and the pigman's gold.
That was my spoil of war.
As I spoke, Beatrice's expression didn't change. She remained perfectly still, her eyes fixed on me, her face a blank slate. But I could feel the anger radiating from her.
"Stop!"
When I was about to go on and inform her about my findings regarding the mastermind behind the kidnapping, Beatrice held up a hand, her voice cold and sharp.
"You two leave," she said, turning to Eva and Rina.
"B-but Mother—" Eva began.
"Now."
Eva opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Beatrice was enough to shut her up. She shot a worried glance at me, then took Rina's hand and led her out of the office, closing the door softly behind them.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Beatrice didn't move for a long moment, then she walked over to the desk where a bottle of wine was sitting. She poured two glasses, handing one to me.
"Drink," she said, her tone not leaving any room for arguments.
I took the glass. The wine was a deep, dark red, and I took a sip. It was good.
"So... I thi—HMMM!" I was about to speak when she suddenly appeared before me, her lips crashing onto mine, her tongue pushing past my lips, her hands cupping my face.
Her kiss was hard, claiming—anger bleeding straight into hunger—She leaned into me, her body a column of heat pressing against my aching frame, forcing me back until the edge of the heavy mahogany desk bit into my thighs.
I didn't pull away. I couldn't have even if I wanted to, not with my muscles still feeling like they'd been put through a meat grinder. Instead, I let my eyes drift shut, meeting her intensity with a cold, calculated stillness.
When she finally pulled back, her chest was heaving, her eyes glowing like embers in a dying fire. A single thread of saliva connected us for a heartbeat before she broke it with a flick of her tongue.
"You... you stupid, reckless, impossible girl," she breathed, her voice a ragged whisper that was equal parts fury and something darker, more possessive. "Do you have any idea what you've done? What could've happened to you?"
"I handled it," I managed, my voice rough, still catching my breath. "They're dead. Rina's safe. The problem is solved."
"Solved?" Beatrice let out a sharp, bitter laugh, stepping back but keeping her hands on my face. Her thumbs traced my jawline, rough and possessive. "You walked into a den of monsters, Azariel. Alone. You could've been torn apart, or worse, taken. Do you think I'd just stand by while my—while you disappeared?"
"I'm still here, aren't I?" I shot back, meeting her gaze with a smirk. "Not a piece missing. Well, maybe a little scratched, but nothing permanent."
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might slap me. Instead, she yanked me closer, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered,
"You're mine to protect, whether you like it or not. Don't test me again."
A shiver ran down my spine, not from fear but from the raw edge in her voice. There was no room for argument there, no space for my usual quips. I swallowed, the wine's warmth still lingering on my tongue, and nodded once.
"Good," she said, releasing me abruptly. She stepped back, smoothing her expression into that cold, controlled mask she wore so well. She picked up her own glass, taking a slow sip as if nothing had just happened. "Now, finish your story. Tell me about this mastermind."
I steadied myself, leaning against the edge of her desk for support. My limbs still ached from the earlier fight, but the adrenaline—and whatever that kiss had been—kept me sharp. I took another sip of the wine, letting the burn ground me.
"Someone named The Red Baron," I said, my voice low and serious. "The pigman wasn't working alone. He was a middleman in a slave-trafficking ring, and this Red Baron is at the top of the chain. The pigman had a ledger—all transactions, all names. It wasn't just slaves they were moving; they were dealing in essence. Dark stuff."
I pulled the old ledger from my inventory, tossing it onto the desk between us. Beatrice picked it up, swiftly going through a few pages.
"The Red Baron… interesting," she murmured, her eyes scanning the ink. "Someone dared to snatch one of my girls, right under my nose, and sell her like a slave. It's been a long while since someone was this bold."
"Bold or stupid?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Both," she replied, her lips curling into a predatory smile. "But mostly stupid. No one touches my family and walks away unscathed. Not even a demon king."
She closed the book with a snap.
"We're going hunting."
"Not now," I said, taking another sip of my wine. "In three days."
"Three days?" Beatrice's head tilted, her eyes narrowing.
"I need rest," I said, gesturing vaguely at my aching body. "And in three days, the contact of the Red Baron will come to collect the pigman's 'payment.'"
Beatrice's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.
"You're a clever girl, Azariel." Her tone was a mixture of admiration and warning. "But we need to prepare. We can't just walk in there without a plan."
She paused, swirling the wine in her glass.
"Do you know where the meeting is?"
"The pigman's memories are... messy," I admitted. "But the location is outside the town, where a rock in the shape of a fist stands tall."
Beatrice's smile widened.
"I know that place," she said. "It's called 'The Fist Rock,' a good spot for an ambush."
Beatrice set her glass down and turned toward the window, the city's hellish glow bleeding in through the curtains. For a moment, she simply stood there, silhouetted against the light, thinking.
"Three days," she said at last. "That gives us time to move pieces without drawing attention."
"Exactly," I replied, taking a step and standing next to her. "But we need to make sure what happened in the tavern doesn't get back to the Red Baron. He needs to think the pigman is alive and waiting for the exchange."
Beatrice's smile turned predatory.
"Don't worry about that," she said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "I have my ways. My girls will spread a little… charming illusion."
Beatrice turned to face me, her blood-red eyes softening. She reached and gently cupped my cheek with her palm, her thumb tracing the cut on my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Thank you for saving Rina, Azariel," she said, her voice now a low, velvety purr. "You've earned more than just my trust today."
She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear.
"You've earned my pussy."
"..."
My mind went blank for a sec before I shook my head in amusement.
'What a slutty mother, just like her daughter,' I thought.
"Let's leave that for another time," I said, a smirk playing on my lips. "I need to rest."
"Oh?" She pulled back, her eyes flashing with disappointment. "Are you sure?"
"Beatrice, I can't even stand on my own two feet right now," I said, gesturing to my aching body. "So unless you're planning on carrying me to bed and doing all the work yourself, I'm afraid we'll have to postpone."
A playful glint shone in her eyes as she looked me over.
"Is that an invitation?" she purred, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Before I could answer, the office door creaked open.
Eva stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression a storm cloud of possessive fury. Her eyes, a striking violet, darted from my face to Beatrice's lingering hand on my cheek.
"Am I interrupting something?" Eva asked, her voice dangerously sweet.
Beatrice sighed, dropping her hand and turning to face her daughter with a wry smile.
"Just discussing a reward for a job well done. Our wife here has been… heroic."
"Our wife.... Yeah, sure." Eva's eyes narrowed as she stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. "She's also exhausted and injured."
Eva didn't leave room for arguments as she strode toward me, took my hand, and started pulling me toward the door.
"Come on, Aza," Eva said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're done for the day. You need a hot bath and a real bed."
"Sigh...." I let out a dramatic sigh as I let her lead me away. I don't have the energy to argue anyway.
"You're all so dramatic."