Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​The gray winter light pierced through the gaps in the velvet curtains. The crack of dawn had just greeted Zenithar Academy.

The air outside felt bone-chillingly cold, yet inside the Main Tower’s VIP Room, silence reigned with absolute tranquility.

Ethan Valen was already awake. The young man sat lounging comfortably on the black leather sofa. He wore a long-sleeved white dress shirt with the top two buttons deliberately left undone. His dark brown hair looked slightly damp.

On the mahogany table before him, a cup of black tea wafted thin trails of steam. Spreading the nerve-soothing aroma of bergamot.

Click.

The room’s door slid open without a knock. Isolde von Rosenberg stepped inside, carrying a thick leather folder in her hand.

The Vice Principal looked flawlessly untouchable.

Isolde halted her steps right in front of the mahogany desk. She bowed her head deeply. "Good morning, My Master."

Ethan picked up his porcelain cup. He took a slow sip of the black tea, letting his brown eyes gaze calmly at the Duchess.

"Report."

Without wasting a single second, Isolde opened the leather folder. Her slender fingers arranged three parchment sheets bearing classified seals on the mahogany table, facing them toward the Demon Lord.

"The target is named Caelum von Valois, My Master," Isolde began her report. Her voice was clear, cold, and highly professional. "Nineteen years old. The second son of the Kingdom’s late Second Empress."

Ethan cast a brief glance over the row of parchments.

"In stark contrast to Prince Edward, Caelum practically never appears at public state events," Isolde continued. "In fact... most of our Northern Faction leaders hadn’t even seen his true face until three years ago. He prefers to seclude himself in the royal archives."

"Just a bookworm?" Ethan murmured flatly.

"Not merely a bookworm, My Master. There are rumors among the military high command regarding the Eastern Border War two years ago." Isolde pointed to a document lacking an official seal.

"The Valois forces managed to slaughter the barbarian rebellion in just four days. Without losing a single battalion. The siege tactics utilized at the time were highly unnatural, and far too cruel for an ordinary royal general. It is strongly suspected that the strategy was orchestrated directly by Caelum, even though not a single state document dares to list his name."

Ethan set his teacup down slowly. His gaze was now entirely locked onto Isolde.

This Young Prince was apparently playing from behind the curtain. Letting other dogs bark on the stage while he manipulated the chessboard.

"However, this is the most crucial anomaly I managed to gather, My Master," Isolde stated. She pushed forward the final parchment, which looked almost completely blank. "There is absolutely zero data regarding Caelum’s elemental affinity or power level."

Ethan’s eyes narrowed sharply. "Hidden by high-level bureaucratic seals?"

"No, My Master. Genuinely blank. The data seems as if it were erased from this world, even though the law dictates that every royal bloodline must undergo an affinity test before the Holy Temple upon turning twelve."

"He erased it himself," Ethan concluded, as cold as ice. "Or... a monster far more powerful in the palace did it for him."

"I share the same thought, My Master."

Ethan leaned back against the sofa.

Silence enveloped the room for a few moments. The intelligence session had concluded.

However, instead of issuing instructions regarding Caelum, Ethan broke the silence with a question that turned Isolde’s world upside down.

"How is Kurt’s condition?"

The question slipped out effortlessly. Incredibly calm, yet it slammed into Isolde’s mental fortress.

The Duchess’s shoulders stiffened instantly.

Her head, which had been held high with bureaucratic arrogance, slowly bowed down. Behind her gold-rimmed glasses, Isolde’s icy blue eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

"S-still stable, My Master..." Isolde answered. Her voice trembled violently, desperately fighting back the surge of emotions choking her throat. "However... he has yet to regain consciousness."

Isolde didn’t weep hysterically. She merely stood frozen. Radiating the profound, dense sorrow of a mother whose son was trapped in a coma due to the bloody intrigue he himself had chosen.

With her remaining courage, Isolde lifted her face. She looked at Ethan with an incredibly fragile glimmer of hope. "Are you... worried about him, My Master?"

Ethan didn’t answer.

The young man merely stared straight at Isolde. The deep, calm gaze of a man peeling back the most human layers of his servant.

Slowly, Ethan rose from his leather sofa.

He stepped closer to Isolde. Invading the woman’s personal space without hesitation, then slowly raised his right hand.

Ethan’s fingers grasped Isolde’s wrist. The grip was very, very light. Devoid of any physical coercion whatsoever.

"You have executed your tasks perfectly, Isolde," Ethan whispered. His baritone voice flowed deep and sensual into the woman’s ear. "Now... drop the bureaucratic reports. I need you for something else this morning."

Isolde swallowed hard. Her alabaster-pale cheeks instantly burned with a flush of red.

Her heart beat much faster. As a brilliant, mature woman, she knew exactly where that sentence was heading.

With highly measured and elegant movements, Ethan guided Isolde toward the large bed in the center of the room.

This time, every touch Ethan gave was imbued with an intoxicating elegance. Every movement was specifically designed to offer a reward. To engrain into the Duchess’s brain that her absolute loyalty was highly valued.

Over the white silk sheets, the navy-blue gown slipped off and fell to the floor.

Isolde’s pale skin was exposed to the cold morning air. Yet, the touch of Ethan’s hands delivered a sweeping warmth that instantly burned away the rest of her sanity. Ethan kissed Isolde’s jaw, trailing down to the crook of her neck, with a languid rhythm.

The sprawling black rose root tattoo across Isolde’s back began to pulse with a faint purple glow. Flaring up in response to the flow of Ethan’s Sin Mana, subtly injected into her circuit through their points of union.

Every time Ethan applied pressure and locked in his rhythm, Isolde had to bite her lower lip hard.

Tears slipped from the corners of her icy blue eyes. Not from pain, but from a wave of emotional catharsis far too massive to contain.

In the embrace of this young man whose age was far below hers, Isolde felt accepted, protected... and fully valued as Isolde.

The Archmage’s stifled moans filled the soundproof room.

One hour later.

Isolde lay limply against the pillow. Her breathing slowly crept back to a steady pace. Her platinum blonde hair, usually pinned up flawlessly, now cascaded messily, staining the white sheets.

Her eyes were still slightly puffy, but a very, very genuine smile curved gracefully on her lips.

"Thank you... My Master," Isolde whispered incredibly softly.

Ethan, sitting on the edge of the bed while re-buttoning his shirt, merely responded with a slow nod.

Isolde got out of bed, transforming back into the untouchable Vice Principal.

She put on and smoothed out her navy-blue silk gown. Tied and pinned up her platinum blonde hair with precision. Then put her gold-rimmed glasses back on.

"As an addition to my report, My Master," Isolde stated. She picked her leather folder back up with elegant movements. "The Lake Pavilion where Prince Caelum invited you is located just outside the academy’s protective barrier. It is a gray zone. If a battle breaks out, the Academy’s legal immunity will not apply at all."

"I know," Ethan answered calmly. "That is why I want to send Valera there."

Isolde’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses.

"Not to interfere or show her snout," Ethan continued, issuing a warning. "Merely to infiltrate and keep watch around the Pavilion. I want to make sure... no third party tries to play hero today."

Ethan placed his right hand over his left chest—right where the Asmodeus Crown tattoo resided.

He closed his eyes, focusing his Sin Mana. Sending a dark resonance signal directly to the spiraling rose Lust Brand on the bloodhound knight’s neck.

An absolute command: "Come."

Merely two minutes later...

CRASH!

The room’s stained-glass window rattled violently.

Valera vaulted inside and landed with a heavy thud on the plush carpet.

The moment her golden-yellow eyes locked onto Ethan, her feral instincts submitted unconditionally.

"I have come to answer your call, My Master!" Valera reported. Her husky, masculine voice echoed obediently as she dropped her knee to the floor.

Ethan stood in the center of the room.

On his left stood Isolde. On his right knelt Valera.

"Listen carefully," Ethan commanded. His aura exploded, radiating the pure authority of the Demon Lord. "Isolde, you stay at the academy. Monitor every inch of Alaric’s and those Northern noble dogs’ movements. Make sure my alibi remains perfectly guarded."

"As you will it, My Master," Isolde bowed gracefully.

"Valera," Ethan shifted to the knight. "Head out now to the woods surrounding the Lake Pavilion. Hide yourself. No matter what happens there this afternoon, your only duty is to observe."

Ethan looked down, locking Valera’s yellow eyes with his crimson glare. "Do not act. Do not kill. And do not dare show yourself without a direct order from me. Do you understand?"

Initially, a wild, bloodthirsty smile had spread across Valera’s thick lips upon hearing she was being sent to an outside field. But the moment she heard Ethan’s ice-cold warning, the smile instantly shrank away.

"I-I understand, My Master! My sword will only be drawn upon your command!" Valera promised in absolute obedience.

After issuing his instructions, Ethan turned around. He strolled casually toward the giant stained-glass window of the VIP room.

His eyes, returned to their calm brown hue, gazed far out through the remaining morning mist. Locking his sight on Lake Zenithar, its surface already half-frozen. From a distance, the wooden roof of the Lake Pavilion was faintly visible, awaiting its guest of honor.

"Be careful, My Master..." the voice of the Asmodeus System echoed once more inside Ethan’s head.

"This Prince waiting for you... is clearly not the type of foolish prey you can conquer merely with physical violence, or just seduction."

Ethan smirked faintly. He slipped one hand into his trouser pocket.

"I know," Ethan whispered. His eyes gleamed with lethal anticipation. "It is precisely because of that... that I will go."