NOVPUBThe crystal pulsed once in Dia's hand, and the world ripped open.
Dia dropped to her knees on cool black stone, gasping, her body coated in blood and rain. Her breath came in small, silent shudders. The teleportation surge lingered in her bones like static. Dia's vision was blurry from the sudden teleportation; she clutched her chest as it wildly pounded. A sense of fear, the silence bringing a different type of terror.
But there were no screams now. No voices. Only the hush of the Citadel's innermost chamber—silent, suffocating, sacred.
"Welcome home," a voice said.
Dia raised her head.
"M-Master?"
Leonhardt sat on the edge of his bed, with legs crossed loosely as he watched her in silence, his arms resting casually at his sides. She noticed his long black hair was loose, down his body, covered in marks... the marks of passion. A woman's marks. He looked down at her with his red eyes, illuminated by the small brazier burning beside him.
He was naked.
She couldn't help but notice the flesh pole dangling with a thick string from its tip between his thighs... and swallowed.
Then noticed the others...
On either side of him, half-draped in silk and sleep, lay Asuka and Sylvie. Asuka's muscular back was bare, her red hair spread like fire across the pillows. One leg lay thrown over Leonhardt's thigh. Sylvie curled like a doll on his other side, her pale skin glowing faintly, lips slightly parted, white lashes fluttering.
Neither woman stirred.
Only Dia breathed.
She forced herself to kneel straighter. The blood on her arms was drying, flaking in places where it had soaked into her gloves and leather. Her eyes stayed on Leonhardt's, not daring to flicker away.
"I did it, the task..."
Leonhardt's head leaned to the side, curling his lips into a smile.
"And?"
"The seal. The scroll. The flame." She swallowed. "I made it look like The Last Call killed him and the slums planned it... smuggling, rebellion... cult ties. Just like you said."
Leonhardt rose without a word.
The silk sheet slid off his lap as he stood, revealing everything to her.
Dia's eyes opened wide, unable to look away as he filled her vision.
His voice was calm, low. "Come closer."
Dia rose unsteadily to her feet, boots slick with blood. She approached without hesitation, each step a silent echo of the mission still clinging to her skin. Her fingers trembled, though her face didn't show it. She stood before him, eyes lowered, waiting for judgment.
Leonhardt didn't speak.
He brushed a thumb across her cheek. The smear of drying blood peeled slightly, flaking against her skin. He rubbed it between his fingers thoughtfully.
Still warm.
"You didn't cry..."
Her voice was a whisper. "I wanted to."
"Why didn't you?"
"I thought you wouldn't like that."
Leonhardt smiled faintly, amused. "You were wrong."
He circled her slowly, bare feet soft against the stone. His gaze dragged across the back of her neck, her shoulders, the crusted blood smeared beneath her collar.
She smelled of copper and smoke, and a faint trace of violet perfume that must've come from the lord's bedding.
"You smell like death and sentiment," he said.
Dia flinched. "Enzo… he called my name before he died."
Leonhardt paused behind her.
"I didn't give you permission to speak of him."
Dia's body tensed like a wire pulled too tight. "I'm sorry."
"You're not." He stepped closer. "But you're loyal. That matters more."
His hands moved over her shoulders, slow, deliberate. He unbuckled one strap of her chest guard, then the next. Her leathers fell open, exposing the blood-drenched underlayer beneath.
She didn't move.
"I saw the flames," Leonhardt said near her ear. "They found the seal?"
"Yes, Master."
"The scroll?"
"Left on his desk. Beside his wine. The guards will assume he died to an assassin from the slums, drunk and reckless."
Leonhardt chuckled under his breath. "Just like a noble should."
His hand guided her face gently as she looked up at him, glassy eyes, lips parted, and bloodstained hands twitching at her sides, holding her breath.
"Do you feel guilty?"
She hesitated. "Yes."
"Do you feel pride?"
"…Yes."
"Good," he said.
Leonhardt lifted his hand—and with a subtle flick, something shimmered into existence between his fingers. A thin black square of waxed paper. Inside, something round and rubbery sat curled like a waiting promise.
Dia blinked.
She knew what it was. Every woman in the dungeon did. Every soldier. Every monster. It wasn't a command. It was an invitation.
Her throat tightened.
He turned the packet slowly in his fingers, like he was examining a weapon.
"You came back bloodied, loyal, and obedient," he said. "You completed your mission."
His voice dropped just slightly.
"And you smell like you've earned a reward."
Dia's knees weakened beneath her, but she didn't fall. She stood there, eyes locked on the packet between his fingers. Her body felt strange, burning... caught between fear, craving, and the heat that pulsed low between her thighs.
Behind him, Asuka shifted and groaned, but she didn't wake.
Sylvie shifted and tightly wrapped herself in the sheets, her breath fogging against Leonhardt's thigh before settling again.
Leonhardt tilted his head.
"Well?" he said, voice cool. "What do you think, pet?"
Dia swallowed. Her lips parted. Her voice came barely audible.
"…I want it."
Leonhardt smiled.
"I know."
Leonhardt didn't open the packet.
He let it vanish between his fingers like smoke.
Dia's breath caught—just slightly—but it was enough.
"You wanted something," he said, voice low. "But you didn't earn that."
Her bloodstained chest rose and fell, her skin damp with sweat and rain. She clenched her thighs unconsciously. Shame burned behind her eyes—but she didn't dare look away.
"I killed for you," she said quietly.
Leonhardt stepped forward until they were almost chest to chest.
The warmth of his chest enveloped her like a coat. His scent, like wild flowers and vanilla, filled her lungs as she closed her eyes.
"Yes," he said, brushing a knuckle under her chin, lifting it.
"But you also hesitated. You cried inside, even if you didn't show it. You let memories dull your blade."
Her lips parted, voice trembling. "I tried not to."
"I believe you."
He leaned close, lips near her temple. "But belief isn't rewarded. Loyalty is."
Dia trembled.
She hated the way her body responded to everything about him, his voice that made her stomach tighten, his touch that made her ache between her hips.
He pulled back slightly.
"Strip," he said, not unkindly. "Wash. I want you clean before I decide what you deserve."
Her breath caught again. She hesitated.
"Now."
She obeyed.
The leather dropped to the floor one buckle at a time, blood flaking in sheets, revealing pale skin marred by bruises, scars, and a single healing bite mark low on her thigh—Leonhardt's. She peeled off the underclothes last, her body shaking not from fear, but from heat and confusion.
Leonhardt watched in silence. Not hungrily. Not gently. Just... measuring her value.
Would she be something he could mould, or a disposable item?
Once she was bare, she stepped into the adjoining washroom without waiting to be dismissed.
As the door closed behind her, Leonhardt turned back toward the bed.
Asuka's eyes were now cracked open, one red iris watching through a fringe of lashes.
"You're not planning to keep her, are you?" she murmured.
Leonhardt gave her a sidelong glance.
"That depends on whether she breaks properly."
Asuka smirked. "She's already cracked."
"Cracked," Leonhardt said, reaching for his coat, "isn't the same as mine."
Steam drifted from the open washroom door as Dia stepped back into the chamber, skin flushed, clean, and still damp. She wore nothing—no towel, no armour, not even shame. Only obedience.
And then she saw it.
Leonhardt sat where she'd left him. His legs spread wide, posture relaxed, and his cock was already half erect—thick, heavy, draped across his thigh with a single line of slick shining at the tip.
Asuka's hand idly stroked along the shaft, her red eyes watching Dia lazily. "You're late," she said with a smirk, giving the head a slow, wet twist that made Leonhardt's cock twitch.
He didn't look at Dia right away.
Instead, he handed her the black square from before.
"Use your mouth," he said. "That's all the help you'll get."
Dia's knees nearly buckled.
She stepped forward, carefully—her thighs trembling. When she took the packet, her fingertips brushed his. Her breath hitched.
She knelt.
Leonhardt leaned back, both arms draped along the shoulders of the woman beside him. Asuka leaned into his left side, her tail curling lazily around his leg. Sylvie nuzzled his right, still asleep, but smiling faintly—his fingers groping the swell of her breast with casual pressure.
Dia looked up—his cock pulsed just inches from her face, harder now. Longer.
Too long.
Too thick.
Her mouth parted, eyes wide. It wasn't like anything she'd known. Not even from memory. Not from Enzo. Not from any human. This wasn't human.
It was monstrous.
She tore the packet open with her teeth, heart pounding, chest heaving, her nipples tight from the heat rolling off him.
"You have twenty minutes," Leonhardt said, his voice as calm as ever.
He didn't smile.
"Do as you please."
Then he went still.
He didn't move.
Didn't touch her.
Didn't even look down.
He simply waited—cock hard, thighs wide, two women draped over him—and let her decide how much she was willing to humiliate herself for a single drop of approval.
Dia's hands trembled as she lifted the condom.
And lowered her mouth.
