The door slammed shut in Jerry's face, sealing off the brewing "war" between the two women inside. He heard the muffled whimpers of a gagged Rita Skeeter and the heavy, suppressed pants of Minerva McGonagall, but his face showed not a flicker of guilt or concern.
He simply shrugged, as if the chaos behind him were none of his business. He didn't even bother with a Disillusionment Charm this time. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, humming a tuneless little melody, he sauntered toward the Slytherin common room with the brisk, carefree pace of an old man finishing a morning walk.
As he turned a corner near the faculty stairs, the familiar, mechanical chime that only he could hear echoed in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Emergency Mission: "Alchemy and Immortality" Completed.]
[Evaluation: The host intervened in the core process of the Philosopher's Stone incident through an unexpected and highly creative "logistics participation" method. You successfully influenced the mindset and actions of a key figure (Minerva McGonagall) and indirectly triggered key plot developments (Rita Skeeter obtaining an exclusive scoop while Voldemort was repelled). Rating: Perfect.]
[Rewards Issued!]
[Congratulations! You have earned: Family Prestige +500.]
[Congratulations! You have unlocked a Special Skill: [Midas Touch].]
[Skill Description: Midas Touch (Novice)—You can transform any non-magical matter smaller than 10 cubic centimeters into an equal volume of pure gold. Usage: Once per 24 hours. Note: This skill is upgradeable.]
Jerry's mood soared. He was dying to try out his new toy. He needed a target. Just then, he reached his own dormitory door. His eyes fell on an inconspicuous, weathered brass door knocker used for decoration.
This is definitely under ten cubic centimeters.
Jerry extended a finger and lightly touched the cold brass. Midas Touch, he commanded mentally.
There was no flash of light, no sound. But where his finger touched, the old, greenish brass seemed to be injected with life. The dull color receded like a tide, replaced by a brilliant, warm, pure golden luster. In the blink of an eye, the mediocre knocker had become a piece of solid, shining gold.
"Interesting," Jerry smirked. He was about to withdraw his hand when the stone door swung inward without warning.
"Jerry!"
A sobbing, soft, and desperate cry rang out. A fragrant, supple figure burst from the room and slammed into him, catching him in a crushing embrace.
It was Katherine.
Before Jerry could react, he was pushed back several steps by a massive, soft force. His face was immediately buried in a breathtaking expanse of warm, heaving flesh. Katherine's impressively sized breasts—like two massive, elastic marshmallows—completely swallowed his face.
Jerry's nose, mouth, and cheeks were tightly enveloped and squeezed by her cleavage, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The scent of a young woman's body mixed with a light perfume and her warm skin-heat flooded his senses, making his head spin.
"Wooo... you're finally back! I couldn't find you anywhere!" Katherine wailed, squeezing him with every ounce of her strength.
She was wearing only a thin, almost translucent silk nightgown. She must have rushed here the moment she heard the news. Jerry's cheeks could clearly feel the two nipples, hardened from her emotional state, rubbing against his face through the thin fabric. Her massive "snow peaks" swayed with her sobs, hitting his face like rhythmic waves of soft meat.
Jerry was completely pinned. Since he was nearly half a head shorter than her, this embrace effectively left him hanging off her chest, his feet barely touching the floor. It was the literal definition of "a small horse pulling a big carriage," but the "carriage" was currently smothering him to death.
Jerry's hands instinctively tried to push her away, but they landed squarely on her soft waist and her rounded, firm buttocks. The incredible feel of her curves made his body stiffen. To make matters worse, she was holding him so tightly that her lower body was pressed flush against his.
Finally managing to gasp for a bit of air from the soft abyss, Jerry raised his hand and patted her trembling back.
"Alright, alright, little kitten. I'm fine!" Jerry's voice was muffled by the flesh surrounding his mouth. "I'm back in one piece, aren't I? Stop crying. Let's go inside first."
Half-leading, half-carrying Katherine, Jerry felt the weight of her lush, trembling body as he brought her back into his dorm. As the door clicked shut, he realized why she had been so hysterical.
His room had been turned into a miniature divination site. Silver powder traced complex star charts on the floor; the table was cluttered with crystal balls, tarot cards, runes, and even a basin of water with charred tortoise shells floating in it. The air was thick with the scent of burned herbs and incense.
No wonder she was so panicked. Jerry knew that if it hadn't been for the massive life energy of the Philosopher's Stone and the alchemy circle, taking Voldemort's Killing Curse head-on would have stripped him of several layers of skin, if not killed him outright. From a diviner's perspective, he had indeed survived a near-death catastrophe.
"Silly girl," Jerry softened. He turned and pulled the still-sobbing Katherine into his arms, taking the initiative this time. He pressed her soft body tightly against his own, one hand strooring her long hair while the other slid down to her firm, rounded ass, kneading it through the thin silk.
"See? Not a scratch on me." Jerry lowered his head, whispering into her ear. His warm breath tickled her sensitive earlobe.
Katherine's crying slowed as she relaxed into him. Feeling his comfort and the bold kneading of his hand, she went limp in his arms. "You... little lecherous master... you scared me to death..."
The old nickname made Jerry chuckle. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look up. He didn't say more; he just leaned down and captured her soft lips. The kiss was gentle and reassuring. Katherine opened her mouth obediently, letting his tongue slide in to dance with hers.
When they parted, both were breathing a bit heavily. "Never again..." she whispered, though she leaned closer. "My divination boards all cracked, and the crystal ball was full of black mist... I thought you weren't coming back."
"I'm here." Jerry kissed the tip of her nose. "Don't worry. Your master has a very stubborn life."
They lingered for a while until the ringing of the castle bells startled Katherine. She checked the time and gasped. "Oh no! I'm going to be late for the Potions exam!"
She scrambled to pull her school robes out of her Undetectable Extension bag, not even bothering to look away as she changed in front of him. Jerry leaned back on his bed, enjoying the view of her youthful, curvaceous body moving in the morning light. After a quick kiss on his cheek, she bolted out of the room like a frightened rabbit.
Left alone, Jerry let out a long yawn. The battle and the morning's activities had drained him. He prepared to crawl under the covers for a nap.
"Wait..." He sat up suddenly and shouted toward the door: "Katherine! That... person... did you feed her yesterday?"
Katherine's voice echoed from down the hall: "Ah! I was too nervous and forgot! But... but I left her some Instant Noodles in the kitchen!"
"Instant noodles?" Jerry grumbled, curling his lip. "Well, she won't starve to death."
He mused to himself that a spoiled Elf Princess eating human junk food would be a unique experience. Besides, he had starved her for days before and she survived. Drowsiness washed over him like a heavy curtain. He pulled the velvet duvet over his head.
He was truly exhausted. The feeling of being "hollowed out" was undeniable. Professor McGonagall's mature body had squeezed him dry. That tight canal, her frantic movements, her hungry initiative... as the saying goes: The field doesn't get worn out, but the ox eventually dies of exhaustion!
Meanwhile, deep in a damp, dark cave within an unknown forest.
A thin, nearly transparent cloud of black smoke curled over the carcass of a giant serpent. From the mist came intermittent, venomous hisses.
Voldemort! Or rather, the remaining soul fragment. He was tasting his most bitter defeat in years. The Stone had been within his reach, and the alchemy circle was just a wall away, yet it had all been ruined by a brat. Not only had he failed to achieve immortality, but the tiny bit of power he had managed to regain had been scorched away by the boy's flames.
"Jerry... Rosier..." The black mist surged, a blurred face flickering within it.
The soul fragment frantically replayed every detail of the night. The boy's power was ancient, raw, and completely inconsistent with his age. Suddenly, a memory fragment was triggered by the terrifying power the boy had displayed.
A small hidden realm of the Forest Elves had been destroyed, and the beautiful Elf Princess kidnapped. According to his informants among dark creatures, the perpetrator was a mysterious wizard in black robes with unfathomable strength. Most importantly, that realm hadn't been breached—it had been physically crushed by a forbidden spell from the sky, [Meteor Fall].
That level of destruction was not something an ordinary wizard could achieve. He had thought it was Dumbledore or some ancient hermit. But now...
Voldemort couldn't be 100% sure the Rosier brat was the same person who destroyed the Elf realm, but the boy's ability to burn his soul and tank a Killing Curse proved he had the potential. He had the power to cast a Meteor.
More importantly, Jerry's birth fit the prophecies. Others didn't know, but Voldemort knew about Blackfeather Castle! It was the true stronghold of the Rosier family. He thought it had been destroyed by the Ministry, but it seemed it had survived.
A sinister, poisonous plan formed within the soul fragment. A weak but clear intent was sent out through an ancient dark magic network based on soul contracts. It connected with a goblin in Knockturn Alley who dealt in taboo information.
"Tell the 'long-ears'... the one who destroyed their home and took their princess... I have a lead..."
"It's a Slytherin freshman, a boy named 'Jerry'... blood of the ancient Rosier family."
"He possesses the unfathomable power that matches the culprit..."
"He is... at Hogwarts."
As the intent faded, the black mist let out a malicious, silent laugh. "Dumbledore... Rosier... and you high-and-mighty long-ears... let the dogs fight."
Voldemort looked at his wretched state. His soul was scorched and weak. Even if he got the Stone now, he couldn't mend this damage. It was time to activate the long-dormant backup plan. The black mist seeped into the stiff snake carcass and fell into a deep slumber to preserve its strength.
In his soft bed, Jerry was sleeping soundly, wrapped up like a hibernating bear. Suddenly, a piercing alarm, like an air-raid siren, exploded in the depths of his mind.
Wooo—wooo—wooo!
Jerry groaned and swatted at the air as if chasing a fly. He buried his head deeper. However, the alarm only grew more shrill. Then, a cold mechanical voice rang out.
[Original Missions "Bitch Training" and "Elven Revenge" have linked to generate a Final Emergency Mission!]
[Final Emergency Mission Triggered: Queen or Princess?]
[Description: You have only 48 hours. Within this time, you must choose between the Elf Princess, Elania, or her mother, the current Elf Empress, and thoroughly tame one of them.]
[Taming Standard: Absolute obedience from body to spirit. They must willingly become your property and acknowledge you as Master.]
[Success: Neutralize the threat of the final stage of "Elven Revenge."]
[Failure: At the moment the timer hits zero, "Elven Revenge" will enter its final stage. Every hidden Forest Elf avenger, regardless of where they are or what they are doing, will prioritize your death. They will hunt you until you are dead. You can hide, but can you really hide forever?]
This ultimatum made Jerry's body jolt. Like a bucket of ice water, the drowsiness vanished. He sat bolt upright, his mind reaching peak clarity in a second.
Who was behind this? Who had the power and motive to push him into a corner?
There was only one answer. Jerry's face darkened, and he hissed through gritted teeth: "Fuck you, Voldemort!"
That curse vented some of his anger. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration turning into a cold, disdainful calm. He walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.
Being targeted was normal. That soul fragment wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to strike back after being beaten so badly. Voldemort's only remaining move was to stir up trouble and use someone else's blade—which only proved he was truly powerless.
Jerry brushed his teeth, foam covering his mouth, as his brain whirred. He could hide. He had extracted plenty of information from the gluttonous Elf Princess. Elven tracking was diverse, but the worst was a bloodline spell. Blackfeather Castle, however, was an independent realm protected by ancient runes. Not even the Empress could locate it once the gates were sealed.
But hiding was only a temporary fix. It didn't suit his character. Cowering meant giving the enemy the initiative.
And then there was the 48-hour limit to tame the Princess or the Queen... this mission was forcing his hand.
A thought crossed his mind: Should I just give the hot potato back? Send Elania back unharmed with a sincere apology?
He snuffed that thought out with a sneer in less than a second.
Beg for mercy? He looked at his reflection—young, but with cold, hard eyes. What a joke. When the Rosier family fell, who showed mercy to the infants in their cradles? The Ministry and the "forces of justice" had hunted them to the end and carved up their assets. If it wasn't for his grandfather paying a massive price to secure a guarantee from a certain old monster, Jerry wouldn't even be alive.
The word "mercy" didn't exist in the Rosier dictionary. Relying on an enemy's kindness was the height of stupidity. If you want to stop someone from hitting you, you don't beg—you flip the table.
But it wasn't time to flip the table yet. That was crude and lacked beauty. A bolder, more wicked, and more interesting plan coiled in his mind like a snake.
Voldemort wants to use a borrowed blade? The Elves want revenge? Fine. If they want to play, he'll play big.
Jerry looked in the mirror, his eyes flashing with greed. Taming just the princess was a passive move. A perfect plan turns the crisis into a profit.
Elania was beautiful, a fine trophy. But her mother? The woman who rules the entire Forest Elf race and forces wizards into treaties? She must be the pinnacle of wisdom and grace, with a charm that far exceeds her daughter's.
Jerry licked his lips as a mad decision was born.
"Lure the snake out... then take the whole nest."
He had decided. Only children choose. He wanted the mother and the daughter.
In a corner of the dining room at Blackfeather Castle, Elania was kneeling on a soft rug, quickly but delicately eating a steaming bowl of instant noodles. The rich, meaty aroma filled her senses. The springy noodles and savory broth gave her taste buds a complex, harmonious shock they had never experienced.
Even though this was considered junk food in the human world, to the Elf Princess, it was a rare delicacy. Jerry's comment about them "eating rolled-up leaves for every meal" was rude, but not far from the truth. Elven diet focused on "purity" and "nature," which usually meant bland, simple preparations.
This bowl, packed with artificial flavorings and complex processing, was a carnival for her tongue. Elania's face was flushed, her forehead beaded with sweat. She drank the last drop of broth before putting the bowl down and licking her lips.
With a flare of green flames in the fireplace, Jerry stepped out. He saw her crouching in the corner like a greedy kitten and let out a genuine laugh. He was carrying a neatly folded set of women's sportswear and a pair of new sneakers.
"So, are the noodles good?" Jerry asked playfully, handing her the clothes. "If you like them, I can give you as many as you want. But today, I'm taking you out for a real meal. A feast. Provided, of course, you don't go out naked."
Elania was only wearing one of Jerry's oversized shirts, leaving her long, pale legs and dainty bare feet exposed. She looked both innocent and incredibly enticing. At the words "go out" and "feast," her eyes lit up with curiosity, but the light dimmed instantly.
She looked down, her voice muffled. "I... I can't leave."
"Oh?" Jerry prompted.
"My people... they are using bloodline tracking to find me every second," she explained hesitantly. "This place is special; it blocks their magic. But once I leave this realm, my location will be exposed. They will come for me instantly."
As she said it, Elania froze. Why was she warning her captor? Shouldn't she be doing everything to escape and lead her people to her?
And yet, deep down, she realized her desire to escape wasn't nearly as strong as it used to be. This time in "captivity"... seemed... quite wonderful.
Every day, Katherine and Jerry brought her a variety of delicacies she had never tasted before. The profound, ancient volumes on Jerry's bookshelves—dark magic and alchemy—were far more fascinating than the elven poems praising nature and life. Most importantly, here she was finally free from the endless ceremonial prayers, free from the forced synchronization with the World Tree's vast but hollow consciousness, and free from playing the role of the flawless, holy princess.
She felt like a... truly free person.
And toward Jerry—a youth roughly her age in adapted elven-to-human years—Elania felt a complex swirl of emotions. She could sense that Jerry carried a weight of pressure just as immense as her own. This shared burden created a sense of kinship, a bond of mutual suffering. She had even grown dependent on Katherine. Back in her tribe, Elania only had subjects; she had never had a best friend her own age.
She wanted to see the human world!
But at the thought that stepping out would mean being tracked and dragged back by her kin, the hands holding her noodle bowl went limp. She wilted, lowering her head in a dejected silence.
Watching her, Jerry felt a surge of satisfaction. His internal calculations were paying off. The "extra ingredients" he had been adding to her food weren't going to waste. Every meal and drink Elania consumed had been spiked with a potion made from ground Succubus Crystals.
The potion was colorless and odorless, but its effects were predatory. It subtly rewrote the consumer's psyche, forging a powerful dependency and a deep-seated affection for the administrator. Over this period, she had ingested nearly half of the crystal reward he'd received from the system. He had initially worried that the powerful elven constitution and magic resistance would nullify the drug, but it was working better than expected—it was simply slower and more insidious.
Now, the fruit was ripe for the picking.
Jerry placed the pink women's tracksuit and sneakers on the rug in front of her. The vibrant color contrasted sharply with her milky, delicate skin.
"Elania!" Jerry knelt down, his voice turning serious, stripping away the playful tone. "I don't want to lie to you. There's something you need to know. Your people likely already suspect you're here."
Jerry locked eyes with the panicked princess. "You are the Princess of the Forest Elves, the sole heir to the throne, and the only one besides your mother who can mind-link with the World Tree. They will never give up on you."
Jerry paused, delivering a cruel reality. "Unless... you were dead. Only if you die can your mother, the Empress, conceive a new princess to take your place."
As Elania's face turned deathly pale, Jerry's voice took on a seductive, manipulative lilt. "This place, Blackfeather Castle, is the last bastion of the Rosier family. It is my only home. Truthfully, I don't want elven warfare bringing destruction here."
Jerry sighed, his gaze softening with feigned conflict. "And because of you, Elania... I find myself unable to bring myself to kill other elves anymore." He reached out, gently stroking her cheek. "So, I want to take you out before they find this place. We'll go to the real human world, see the sights, have some fun—consider it our last indulgence. Afterward, either they'll find you, or I'll send you back. With you advocating for me, perhaps they won't hunt me down... After all, keeping you locked up forever isn't a solution, is it?"
As he spoke, a pinkish luster flickered in Jerry's eyes. The Eyes of Slaanesh activated. Every word was a key turning precisely in the locks of Elania's heart.
"Are you... abandoning me?"
Those four words seemed to drain Elania of all her strength and royal pretension. She was no longer a high-and-mighty princess, but a little girl terrified of being discarded. Crystal tears rolled down her cheeks. It was the first time Jerry had seen her cry—not from fear or humiliation, but from a gut-wrenching sense of impending loss.
"What are you saying?" Elania shook her head violently, tears flying. "Jerry... are you and Katherine throwing me away? You're sending me back? I don't eat that much, I can eat less! I don't want to go back... I..."
Seeing her break down, something small flickered in the depths of Jerry's heart. But he offered no more words; action was always more potent. He stepped forward, grabbed her waist, and pinned her soft body against the cold wall. Under Elania's stunned gaze, he leaned down and kissed her brutally.
He forced her lips apart, his tongue invading her mouth with a heavy, masculine dominance, claiming every inch of her. He tasted the salt of the noodle broth and the unique, sweet fragrance of her mouth—like a forest at dawn. The two flavors clashed on his tongue into a strange, addictive nectar.
When she was nearly breathless and flushed deep red, he pulled back slightly, his forehead against hers. He whispered in a husky voice, "Elania, believe it or not, I like you. But between us... it's impossible."
He felt her body tremble. "Elves live forever. I am a mere human. Unless... you want to spend your best years watching me wither and die." Jerry softened his gaze. "So, let me give you a grand tour of the human world. I have so many places to show you, so much to let you taste. Our time is short. If you don't want to miss out, stop crying and get ready, okay?"
The words acted like a warm current, melting the ice in her heart. Elania wasn't stupid; she heard the harsh reality in his voice, but she also felt the "sincerity" beneath it. Her face flushed. She gave a small nod, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay... fine!"
In the deep, vast Heart of the Forest, the branches of ancient trees formed a natural cathedral. Moonlight and starlight filtered through the leaves, creating dappled patterns on the ground. This was the holy land of the Forest Elves.
At the center sat the Empress, Aia, on a throne of living roots. She looked much like Elania, but with the added majesty and mature allure of centuries—a heart-stopping beauty that blended maternal warmth with regal steel.
Just moments ago, her elite scouts had paid a fortune in rare gems to a notorious information broker in Knockturn Alley.
"The dregs of the Rosier family... a freshman at Hogwarts... named Jerry..."
The Empress tapped her throne, weighing the intel. The Rosiers were a black-magic bloodline. If this boy truly carried that blood, it explained how he had the power to abduct her daughter.
Suddenly, a lunar basin of water in front of her throne erupted into ripples. In the center, a floating drop of golden blood—the Empress's own essence—vibrated violently, projecting a beam of light toward a distant coordinate.
"Your Majesty!" an elder gasped. "The bloodline tether has been triggered! Her Highness... she has left the shielded realm!"
The atmosphere turned to ice. Aia snapped her eyes open. They were no longer warm, but filled with a glacial chill and long-suppressed fury.
Found you.
Her commands were instantly telepathically broadcast to her inner circle. "First, issue a formal diplomatic protest to the Ministry of Magic. State we have proof our Princess was kidnapped by a wizard and demand the culprit. It's just a formality, but we must hold the moral high ground."
"Second!" Her voice turned razor-sharp. "Activate all 'Silent Speakers' embedded in the human world. Lock down every piece of information on 'Jerry Rosier'—his associates, his movements, his shelters. I want to know everything."
She rose from her throne, her moonlight-silk robes billowing. Powerful life magic swirled around her, causing nearby plants to grow at a frenzied pace. She descended the steps, looking at her Royal Guard. "Third... summon the 'Greenleaf Blades.' Prepare my Horned Beast. I will retrieve my daughter personally."
Aia paused, a murderous intent flaring on her beautiful face. "And I will personally tear that bastard's head from his shoulders."
Whatever rage the Empress felt, for Elania, the memory of her dark imprisonment was being rewritten by a kaleidoscope of light. When she put on the pink tracksuit and stepped into the human world for the first time, she felt reborn.
Jerry kept his word. Like a devoted, romantic boyfriend, he took her hand and led her through a dreamlike journey. Though Jerry was a bit short—reminding her of the dwarves who never got along with elves—she didn't care.
On the snowy peaks of the Alps, Jerry shielded them with a Warming Charm. Elania saw the sunrise hit the mountains for the first time. She giggled like a child, throwing snowballs at him. Jerry didn't dodge; he let the snow hit his chest and then pulled her in for a kiss amidst the mountain winds—cold air meeting burning heat.
In the lavender fields of Provence, they walked through purple waves. Jerry wove a simple crown of flowers for her. Seeing his focused, gentle profile, Elania's "liking" for him bloomed as vast as the fields. He even took her to a hidden magical colony—a world made of crystal with floating cities and starlit abysses.
For two days, Elania experienced joy she hadn't known in centuries. She ate street ice cream that made her squint from the sweetness. She watched outdoor movies, leaning on Jerry's shoulder. She tried on dozens of dresses, twirling shyly under his gaze. She forgot she was a princess. She was just Elania, a girl in love.
Until the final stop: London.
As night fell, Jerry led her into a small alley. At the end was a Chinese restaurant decorated with red lanterns. Pushing the door open, a warm wind smelling of Sichuan peppercorns and soy sauce greeted them. It was a small, rustic place with wooden furniture and landscape paintings.
Jerry sat her by the window and ordered several dishes. Soon, steaming food arrived. Elania picked up her chopsticks—she had mastered them during her stay at the castle. Elves were natural masters of their bodies, after all.
Jerry watched her with a smile, placing a shrimp dumpling in her bowl. "Eat slowly, it's hot."
Outside, the neon lights of London blurred on the glass. Inside, the warm light stretched their shadows. Elania ate small bites, looking at the boy across from her. She wished time would stop. No princess duties, no racial divides. Just the two of them.
Tinkle.
The bell above the door shattered the illusion. A cold draft blew in. A tall figure walked in—a woman so beautiful it took one's breath away. She wore tight black leather pants that hugged her mature, powerful curves, and high heels that accentuated her elegant calves clad in thin black stockings.
The outfit was out of place in the rustic restaurant, and the two gleaming curved blades in her hands were even more so. Despite the stylish hat, her pointed ears peeked through her hair.
The chopsticks clattered to the table. Elania's face drained of color. Her happiness curdled into pure terror. "M-Mother..."
Empress Aia stood at the door. Her gaze ignored the terrified patrons and locked onto the table—specifically, the black-haired boy putting a dumpling in her daughter's bowl. The air in the restaurant was sucked out. The noise of the kitchen died. The space felt like it was being dragged into a different, frozen world.
The tension was beyond awkward; it was the absolute suppression of a top-tier predator.
Jerry's smile didn't fully vanish, but he put down his chopsticks. He took a napkin and slowly wiped his mouth, meeting the Empress's eyes—eyes burning with the same fire as Elania's, but hardened by ice.
Unexpectedly, Aia didn't attack immediately. She walked with predatory grace to the table and sat in the empty chair across from Jerry.
"Mother..." Elania trembled.
Aia didn't look at her. She picked up a clean pair of chopsticks and, with alien elegance, tasted a piece of sweet and sour pork. She chewed slowly, as if sampling intel rather than food. Then she put them down. Her voice was like moonlight—cold and final.
"You are Jerry Rosier."
It wasn't a question. Jerry smiled. "And you must be Elania's mother, the esteemed Empress."
The moment the words left his mouth, Aia moved. Like a bowstring snapping, she struck. Her chair slid back as her blades appeared, silver light slicing across the table toward Jerry's throat. She wasn't a mage in this moment; she was an elite assassin.
Jerry reacted instantly. He didn't block; he slammed his left hand on the table and barked a syllable. A golden shield enveloped the frozen Elania. Using the momentum of the table-slap, he leaned back, the blade missing his throat by a hair. He kicked off the floor, launching himself like a cannonball—not to counter-attack, but to slam into Aia's chest to drive her out of the restaurant and into the street.
But he underestimated a ruler of thousands of years. Aia was a warrior. She shifted at an impossible angle, her leather-clad waist twisting like silk. As they passed, she flicked her wrist.
Squelch!
The blade opened a deep gash in Jerry's blocking arm. Blood soaked his sleeve instantly. Jerry didn't even flinch at the pain, but his heart sank. He had been overconfident.
"Stop! Mother, no!" Elania screamed.
Aia didn't listen. She spun for a second, more lethal strike. But then, something no one expected happened. Elania's slender arms wrapped around her mother from behind in a death grip. Shockingly, she snatched a decorative but sharp dagger from Aia's belt and pressed the cold edge against the Empress's pale, elegant throat.
"Let him go..." Elania's voice shook with tears and resolve. "Or I'll... I'll..."
The world stopped. Aia felt the cold steel on her neck and the undeniable strength in her daughter's arms. For the first time, her eyes showed shock. Her obedient daughter was holding a knife to her throat for a human.
Jerry was equally surprised. The Succubus Potion was just a catalyst; the courage Elania showed now was born from her own heart.
"Elania, do you know what you are doing?" Aia's voice was like ice. "Drop the knife and come home."
"No." Elania pressed the blade closer. "I won't go back. Not unless... unless you promise to spare Jerry."
"Impossible!"
"Then we die here together."
Jerry broke the silence. He clutched his bleeding arm. "Elania, stop. Let your mother go."
"Not until she promises!"
Jerry sighed and looked at Aia. "Your Majesty, this isn't the place to talk. I think the three of us need a private location to resolve this. Don't you agree?"
Aia looked at her daughter, then at the bleeding but calm boy. She nodded. "Where?"
Jerry smirked. "My place."
As Jerry turned to lead the way, the "patron" at the next table suddenly drew a dagger and lunged for Jerry's back. It was a coordinated strike. Aia had timed it perfectly—she knew Jerry couldn't use his full power while protecting Elania.
Jerry dodged the lethal blow, but the poisoned tip grazed his hip. Pain flared. At the same time, "patrons" at two other tables revealed themselves—four elven assassins closing off every exit!
"STOP IT!"