The Study and the Little Maid
The morning sun hung high in a clear, open sky, golden light pouring through the thin curtains like warm, liquid fire. The silk sheets lay twisted and damp, creased in quiet proof of nights soaked in endless passion. For once, the bed wasn't filled with bodies—only one remained.
Leon stretched, slow and unhurried, his bare chest catching the sunlight in a soft gleam. Every inch of his sculpted frame flexed and released as he rose, a low, satisfied breath sliding from his lips.
Beside him, Rias lay still, her lush form wrapped in the last traces of their desire. Crimson hair spilled across the pillow, her breasts rising gently with each slow breath. The blush on her cheeks and the faint bite marks along her neck whispered the full story of the last two days.
"She'll sleep till noon," Leon muttered, amused, a devilish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "After last night… again."
Two full days. That's how long he had claimed her, explored her, and rewritten the depths of their relationship. His Rias was no longer merely a companion or toy—she was his, wholly and completely. Body, heart, and soul.
Yet, despite the satisfaction, duty stirred within him. He wasn't just a man lost in pleasure. He was a cultivator with a goal. Galvia won't conquer itself, he thought, stepping away from the bed.
Leon stood before the mirror, eyeing the faint golden hue in his pupils—a sign. He was no longer the same.
He had been on the brink of the Novice Realm's peak, the very beginning of a cultivator's journey. But now? Just one step away from breaking into the Mortal Realm.
And Rias? His beautiful, loyal flame? She stood at the edge of the Master Realm, her power blooming in response to their union.
The system's voice echoed in his mind from the first night with her:
"Through intimate union, not only will your cultivation soar—your partners shall evolve as well. Such is the Black Dragon's bond."
He grinned, remembering how her moans became cries of awakening. It wasn't just lust—it was evolution.
Leon stepped into the marble-tiled bath. Steam rose up, curling around his skin. The heat sank into him, loosening everything tight. Lavender and dragon lily scented the air—soft, sharp, calming.
He slid beneath the water. Slowly. Letting it swallow him whole. The soreness in his muscles eased with each breath, each ripple.
Later, he dried off. Slow strokes. No rush.
Then came the robe—deep gold silk. White thread embroidered the edges in flowing shapes. Clean. Regal. The collar clipped together with a brooch—a dragon, coiled and proud.
A Nobel robe.
He ran his fingers through his silver hair, gazing into the mirror once more. "Moonstone Kingdom," he murmured. "You're next."
He paused, chuckling to himself as another thought bloomed—the hot maid.
Aria.
Every time she entered his chambers these past two days—meant only to deliver meals or "urgent" messages—she had walked in on him and Rias, tangled in a storm of moans and heat. Her porcelain face would flush crimson, violet eyes wide behind her glasses, only to quickly compose herself and bow.
"G-Good morning, Lord Leon," she'd always say with an unwavering calm that betrayed her trembling hands.
And Leon? He didn't miss it—the way her eyes lingered just a second too long, or how her thighs subtly pressed together when she turned away.
He liked teasing her. He always had. And today, it felt like fate had handed her to him again.
He pushed open the tall double doors of his study. The scent of parchment, worn books, and magic-infused ink drifted out to meet him.
He stopped.
There she was—Aria.
Standing by his desk, dressed in a maid's uniform so perfect and snug it left little room for the imagination. Her smooth violet hair was tied up tight, framing the elegant slope of her neck. Stockings clung to her long legs, and the corset beneath her apron lifted her full chest just enough to draw the eye.
She was focused, reading over a document, completely unaware he'd entered. Morning light spilled through the windows, catching on the edge of her glasses. Her lips moved faintly, mouthing each word.
Leon's mouth curled into a slow smirk.
"Good morning, little maid," he said, voice low and teasing.
She flinched, startled. Her eyes snapped to his, cheeks flushing pink. "L-Lord Leon…" she stammered, quickly straightening herself and bowing with practiced grace. "Good morning."
But he saw it—the way her hand gripped the parchment tighter… the way her breath quickened.
Caught you, he thought. And oh, how he intended to have fun.