The morning arrived silently in the Underworld, tinting the sky with a soft shade of pale violet blended with the golden tones that slowly spread across the horizon. The clouds, thin and scattered, floated like translucent veils, reflecting that diffuse light which slipped in through the windows of the Häagenti mansion.
Inside the bedroom, the partially open curtains allowed this gentle luminosity to spread throughout the space, illuminating the elegant furniture and the ample room with a pleasant, warm tone.
Alear was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the cold floor, his body slightly leaned forward with elbows resting on his knees. His hair was still mildly disheveled from sleep, a few strands falling over his eyes as he stared into the emptiness ahead.
An ironic smile slowly curved his lips.
"My luck really is tragic…" he murmured under his breath, almost as if talking to himself, his tone carrying a calm sarcasm.
Unlike usual, he hadn't waited until night.
Perhaps it was a remnant of the previous day's excitement… or just a faint, irrational hope that "this time" it would be different.
As soon as he woke up—still half-asleep—he had summoned the [Fate Gacha] interface and, without much ceremony, activated the roll.
The result…?
He had obtained the "Hercules Underwear," an item that granted fifty percent defense against magical attacks…
Well, regarding that, he didn't even bother to react.
He simply closed the interface with an indifferent gesture, like someone who, deep down, had already expected exactly this kind of nonsense.
"…Changing the time doesn't even help…" He let out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair while tilting his head slightly to the side. "Well… can't complain after yesterday. I'm starting to sound like Emiya, always grumbling about his luck—which, by the way, was worse than a Lancer's. Funny… back then, me, him, and that idiot Cú Chulainn always ended up in the worst possible situations. Our bad luck matched way too well…"
Proof of that could be seen in the Orleans Singularity. Whenever the three of them were together, something inevitably went wrong: a path blocked by rubble, a forced detour due to an unexpected swarm, or even a simple patrol that, within minutes, turned into a full wyvern siege. Fortunately, they always survived the way they always did: improvising, complaining, and forcing their way through with brute strength… while, deep down, it became increasingly clear that it wasn't mere bad luck, but a kind of disastrous affinity among the three—something capable of turning any plan into an absurdly worse scenario than it should have been…
After that, he never took Emiya or Cú Chulainn along again—unless there was no other choice.
Even so, remembering it all in that moment, a certain nostalgic feeling rose in his chest. No matter how bad the situations were, there was something… fun about them, once they got out of them…
After all, he hadn't faced those disasters alone. There was always someone to share them with.
Erasing the melancholic expression from his face, Alear stood up right after and stretched slowly, his muscles still relaxed from sleep. His body responded well, without excessive soreness—a clear sign he was gradually adapting to the intensity of the training.
He then walked toward the bathroom to take a shower and dress "properly" to start the day…
.
.
.
.
.
Alear didn't take long in the bathroom. He just took a quick shower to fully wake his body and put on the clothes left by one of his maids. Nothing extravagant or worthy of the heir to a Great Devil Family. Just a light long-sleeved shirt of soft fabric, slightly fitted to the body, paired with equally comfortable pants of clean cut and neutral colors. It was the kind of clothing designed more for practicality and comfort than to impress anyone…
After all, he was at home.
And, as far as he knew, he had absolutely no formal commitments that day.
…At least, that's what he thought.
"Therefore, considering the position of the Agares Clan within the structure of the 72 Pillars, neglecting this agreement would not only be imprudent, but potentially disastrous from a political standpoint…"
The calm, perfectly articulated voice echoed through the mansion's office—the same room where, on his first day in this world, he had received Serafall and Ajuka, and where he later conducted political negotiations with Venelana. As soon as he sat down, his dedicated secretary entered immediately, beginning her report on a trade agreement with the Agares family while placing a document on the desk in front of him, making it instantly clear that his assumption was… wrong.
Alear slowly raised his gaze to Venelana, who was wearing a simple dress that highlighted her perfect curves.
She had already been speaking for some time.
And, apparently, had no intention of stopping.
"As the second-highest-ranking Pillar among the 72, the Agares Clan not only holds the title of Archduke, but also serves as mediator between the Bael Clan, the Four Great Satans, and the other noble clans. That alone makes them an entity that cannot be ignored."
Alear remained silent for a few seconds, simply watching her.
"…Good morning to you too, Venelana…"
The comment came out in a neutral tone, but laced with faint irony.
Venelana was unfazed by the remark. After three days at his side, she already knew he could be quite ironic—or even sarcastic—when he wanted to be. Besides, it was her fault. She was the one who started working before even properly greeting him; after all, it was an important matter.
"Good morning, Alear-sama…" she replied immediately, without missing a beat. "As I was saying, the floating city of Agreas, under direct Agares family control, is where the crystals used to create [Evil Pieces] are produced. This makes control over the raw material an extremely sensitive strategic factor."
She made a slight gesture with her hand, and one of the documents separated from the stack, gliding through the air until it stopped in front of him.
"The agreement previously signed by the Gremory family establishes absolute priority in the sale of all ore extracted from the Gäap family territories to Agares. In practical terms, any attempt to redirect those resources would require not only formal renegotiation, but also solid political justification."
Alear cast a quick glance at the document… then returned his attention to her, holding her gaze for a few more seconds…
"…From everything you've explained so far, there is absolutely no problem with the agreement." His voice came out calm, direct, no beating around the bush. "On the contrary, it doesn't seem to require immediate attention. So… was there some unexpected development?"
A brief silence settled in.
For a fleeting moment, Venelana's eyes glimmered with something subtle—approval and satisfaction.
"As expected of you, Alear-sama." She replied, her voice retaining its usual elegance but carrying a faint note of pleasure. "Indeed, the contract itself has no issues… The matter is that the current Lord of the Agares family has shown interest in revisiting the existing trade terms… Officially, it's framed as a 'contract update,' but… in practice, everything points to him wishing to meet you personally."
Alear remained silent.
"…I see."
There was no real surprise on his face, but his mind was already working on multiple layers, analyzing the possible reasons behind the meeting. Until now, he had avoided any direct political involvement, restricting himself to the Gremory family. Still, he knew perfectly well that his position made him an inevitable point of interest.
Within that context, the Agares family's interest was predictable. Using a "contract" as a pretext for the meeting indicated a formal approach, but the real objective was unlikely to be limited to that. It was probable that Lord Agares was seeking to establish some kind of strategic agreement—whether cooperation, influence… or something more direct.
Considering noble patterns, it wouldn't be absurd to suppose an attempt to bring him closer to his daughter, the family's heiress, as a way to consolidate a longer-lasting bond. After all, for many, an engagement with Serafall was not an absolute impediment—only a partial obstacle in a game where alliances could be multiple and convenient…
In other words, he would have to be careful in that meeting. Fortunately, he had learned quite a bit about politics in the last few days…
A low sigh escaped his lips. He ran a hand through his hair once more, mildly irritated but without losing composure.
"Fine. Schedule it for some day during the week." He said casually. "Nothing too immediate. If he wants to meet me, he can wait a few days."
His eyes then returned to Venelana.
"Anything else?"
Venelana smiled faintly, her violet eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and cunning. She leaned slightly forward over the desk, delicately resting her forearms on the surface. The movement was calculated; the neckline of her dress parted just enough to reveal the deep valley between her full, heavy breasts, the creamy skin contrasting with the fabric…
"Yes, there is one more point." She maintained the same calm, professional tone. "The Bael family has shown considerable interest in meeting you."
Internally, Alear frowned.
The Bael family? If there was one house he observed with silent caution, it was precisely that one—the most powerful among the 72 Pillars… and, coincidentally, the one that best fit in the shadows behind his own family's fall. None of that, however, showed on his face. Only a slight stiffness appeared in his expression, a subtle, almost imperceptible trace to an ordinary person… but not to Venelana. She seemed to notice the change; a faint hint of curiosity appeared in her gaze, though she said nothing.
"Who, exactly?" he asked calmly…
Venelana straightened slightly. She crossed her arms beneath her bust, which—of course—lifted them even more, accentuating the deep valley and perfect curve.
"The interest came mainly from the current heir: Sairaorg Bael." She replied, tone calm and professional. "Though… I must admit Lord Zekram himself also expressed curiosity. But the formal request came from Sairaorg…"
Alear raised an eyebrow slightly.
"…Sairaorg?"
Obviously, he recognized that name from the original story. Still, he had to pretend otherwise. Though deep down, he already knew exactly the probable reason for the visit.
"Yes." Venelana nodded. "He contacted me directly to arrange a meeting…"
"And why would the Bael heir be interested in me?"
Venelana didn't answer immediately.
For a brief moment, her expression softened.
"For a rather… personal reason." She said, her voice lowering slightly. "His mother, Misla Bael, has been in a coma for years due to Sleeping Disease. Sairaorg has never given up searching for a solution. When he learned that you had awakened… well… he saw hope. There are no records of anyone else having overcome it. For him, at the moment, you are the only living clue to finding a way to wake his mother…"
"If it weren't for formal protocols… the fact that you are the Lord of two houses while he is still merely an heir, it's quite likely he would have already come here personally."
"…Quite a straightforward young man…" Alear commented simply.
Venelana laughed softly.
A gentle, elegant sound.
"Yes. He is that kind of person." Her eyes then slid subtly over him, carrying faint amusement. "But you shouldn't speak that way, Alear-sama; it makes you sound more like an old man than a young one…"
Alear let out a sigh.
He ran his hand through his hair once again, visibly tired… but not exactly irritated.
"My soul aged about three centuries just in this past week since I woke up."
Venelana laughed again, this time more openly, the sound echoing softly through the room. She uncrossed her arms, leaning a little further forward.
"Three centuries, is it?" she teased, voice low and playful. "Then should I start calling you 'venerable elder' from now on? Or would you prefer I continue treating you as the young lord who daily requires the services of a secretary as old as me…?"
Alear just shook his head and replied.
"Keep doing what you're doing… And you're not old, Venelana. Probably if it weren't for our current positions and we had met under different circumstances, I would have hit on you…"
Venelana froze for a fraction of a second. Her violet eyes widened slightly—not in feigned surprise, but in a genuine reaction from someone who hadn't expected to hear that at that moment. Then she laughed. A low, soft laugh that started deep in her throat and melted on her lips, making her shoulders tremble lightly. She brought a hand to her mouth, but couldn't contain the sound.
"Alear-sama…" she murmured, still laughing, eyes gleaming with mischief and a clear trace of interest. "You really have no filter at all, do you? 'If we had met under different circumstances'… Meaning that if I weren't the Gremory matriarch… and you weren't so… committed…"
She deliberately left the sentence unfinished, her smile becoming subtler and far more dangerous.
"…you would have tried to take me to bed?"
Her fingers idly traced the line of her own lower lip before resting on her chin. The gesture was light, but far from innocent.
"And what exactly would you do with me, hm? Tell me… just out of professional curiosity, of course." Her eyes locked onto his without wavering. "After all… a secretary should know her lord's tastes well… to be able to satisfy them properly."
Alear held her gaze without blinking. His magenta-pink eyes were calm, but a mischievous glint shone deep in his pupils. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest, and said calmly…
"Well, I would have invited you to a private dinner somewhere discreet. After the wine… I would have taken you somewhere no one would interrupt us. And then… you can imagine the rest. I'm not the type of man who makes promises about how it would be—I'm the type who shows through actions. So you'd have to find out for yourself…"
Venelana didn't laugh this time. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing quickening enough to make her breasts rise and fall more noticeably. A subtle blush crept up her neck, tinting her fair skin a rosy hue. She bit her lower lip for an instant—an unconscious, almost childish gesture—before letting out a long, trembling sigh.
"And if I said… that we don't need to wait for 'different circumstances'? That I'm right here… now… under your direct orders… as your obedient secretary?"
She let the last word hang in the air.
Alear remained silent—or rather, chose to remain so.
Over the past three days, Venelana had been steering their interactions into dangerously ambiguous territory, exactly as she was doing now. It always began impeccably, with her performing her role with elegance and precision. Gradually, however, her boldness took over, guiding her actions down more subtle and suggestive paths. Quite naturally, she found ways to imply her "offers" to serve him beyond the conventional—proposals that could hardly be interpreted as mere casual teasing.
To him, there was a clear explanation for this behavior. Venelana perfectly understood her family's delicate position, whose economic stability depended largely on the territory under his control. Securing his "goodwill"—even if it meant sleeping with him—was not merely a risky choice, but one she had already made since the day she arrived for the meeting…
He could also sense that, with each passing day, something in her demeanor had shifted. The provocation was ceasing to be purely a political tool and beginning to take on a more personal, almost curious tone. He didn't behave like the others—no impulsive reactions, no hungry stares, no sign of the typical loss of control from a young man faced with such direct insinuations. His constant calm seemed to provoke Venelana even more, as if she were determined to break through that imperturbable surface and draw a genuine reaction from him.
Deep down, he understood perfectly what was happening… and he also knew that if he decided to order her to serve him with her mouth while he worked and gave a direct command, she would hardly hesitate to obey…
…Was there any reason to refuse? No…
He narrowed his eyes at Venelana and said: "Be careful what you offer, Venelana. I'm not the type to refuse when something is placed right in front of me…"
She smiled—a slow, dangerous, toothy smile.
"I know." She whispered. "That's exactly why I'm here…"
And then, without waiting for any response, she spun the chair he was sitting in and, with deliberately slow movements, knelt between his legs. Her violet eyes gained a hard-to-decipher intensity, loaded with intent, while her hands glided along his thighs with an almost provocative slowness.
At no point did she look away.
Alear didn't move. He remained still, watching her in silence. Deep down, he knew that sooner or later this would happen.
Still, a part of him tried to rationalize the situation.
…Hey, he was innocent in this… right?
As for Venelana's husband, all he felt was a faint trace of pity.
Well, he could make very good use of this situation—he had been quite stressed lately anyway…
___________________
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