While Grayfia was being stirred from inside by Riser's cock, she noticed something different than usual. Riser certainly possessed a member befitting an exceptional male, but… was it always this thick? Just the sensation of that heat scraping along her inner walls sent electricity racing up her spine, lighting her brain with pleasure.
No.
No — this is a lie.
Pleasure shared between two people who truly love each other would be acceptable.
But Grayfia did not love Riser.
He was a wretch who preyed on weaknesses, a vile man who couldn't compare to the husband she loved.
There was no way she should be aroused by affection forced on her from a one-sided obsession.
"—ngh…!"
She tried to deny it, but she was desperately holding back her voice.
If she slipped even slightly, a humiliating moan would escape her lips.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, her body had already been trained — reshaped into a hole meant only for Riser Phenex.
Whenever his cock entered her, her pussy meat welcomed him automatically, taking the stance of a well-trained, obedient sheath.
Stop.
Please stop…
She pleaded with her own traitorous body, fighting back.
Just endure it.
That's what she had always done.
If she hung on until Riser finished dumping his seed inside her, it would be over.
She doubted she could remain conscious through one of his full-power sessions… but if losing herself spared her from feeling him, she didn't mind.
I want to see my child…
The thought came suddenly.
Her precious child — Milicas.
The long-awaited treasure she had with Sirzechs.
She desperately wanted to escape this miserable life and spend time as a family again.
Yes… perhaps she should take a leave of absence from her maid duties.
A vacation with Sirzechs and Milicas…
Anywhere would be fine, as long as the three of them were together.
Her chest warmed at the thought—
But then remembered something horrible:
That video showing Sirzechs' infidelity.
She wanted to dismiss it as a cruel trick, but she couldn't shake the doubt.
A sliver of fear lingered in her heart.
What if…
What if by some terrible chance…
It was real?
Even the faintest possibility weighed on her chest like stone.
If that video was genuine…
Then what had all the years with Sirzechs meant?
The words they shared, the love they built, the trust they nurtured — all suddenly felt thin. Fragile.
"Hah… ngh… mm…!"
She had gotten so lost in thought she forgot to breathe.
When she finally opened her mouth to draw air, Riser misunderstood and plunged his tongue into her mouth.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, his tongue invaded her, licking the insides of her cheeks with wet, noisy strokes.
Disgusting man.
She had been ogled by many lustful men before,
but none had ever displayed their desire so boldly, so shamelessly.
Even knowing she couldn't resist him right now,
she still felt the urge — the responsibility — to stop him someday.
Because if left unchecked, he might turn his attention toward others.
He had already used his own sister as a sex outlet before.
If she didn't stop him, someday he might break his promise
and sink his fangs into people she loved.
He seemed to be honoring their agreement for now…
But was he truly?
What if he was doing something she couldn't perceive?
Were Rias and the others really safe?
With power like his, it would be easy for him to hide anything from her eyes.
Just imagining Rias and her peerage being toyed with
filled Grayfia with guilt and dread.
And even if such a thing was happening…
she would have no way to perceive it,
nor any opportunity to present evidence before Riser.
It was unbearably frustrating.
"Stick out your tongue."
"…ngh, ah…"
Riser rubbed his tongue against hers, savoring her saliva.
His wicked grin suited his villainous face perfectly.
And beneath that face was a cruelty even deeper.
She almost frowned —
but forced down the impulse and moved her tongue as well.
Just licking him seemed to please him immediately.
How simple-minded.
If only he were always this easy to manipulate.
But reality wasn't that kind.
"Nn… fuh…"
Still — something felt off.
Riser's cock felt far larger than usual.
Was it because she had just slept with Sirzechs?
Could such a difference really exist?
Sirzechs wasn't small — she truly believed that.
No, he wasn't small.
It was just that Riser was too enormous.
She dispelled the thought that belittled her husband
and braced herself as Riser's glans pushed against her cervix.
"Ah— ngh— haa…"
Sirzechs… had never reached this deep.
He didn't have this stamina.
He always came before she climaxed even once.
She thought the quantity and thickness of semen he produced was normal.
No.
No — it's Riser's fault.
His cock was too thick,
too long,
too perfectly shaped to scrape her in all the right ways.
His balls were huge, endlessly producing thick, hot seed that boiled like magma in her womb each time he poured into her,
knocking her consciousness loose with molten pleasure.
She never wanted to know this.
If she hadn't experienced this,
she could have lived believing Sirzechs' sex was normal.
But now she understood — in her bones —
that Sirzechs was inferior.
She already knew her body was corrupted by Riser long ago.
Not because she stopped loving Sirzechs.
But because Riser's phoenix stamina had allowed him to fuck her countless times.
She stayed strong only because she protected her heart.
But now—
with her heart shaken by the hinted infidelity,
and with the overwhelming contrast between the two men's bodies…
her guard had been breached.
Riser's tongue left her mouth.
Grayfia instinctively tried to chase after it with her own—
and panicked, hiding the reflex behind a calm expression.
She couldn't let him sense her inner turmoil.
If he noticed any weakness, he would exploit it without mercy.
Calm down.
You're fine.
She repeated it silently to steady herself.
"That's right," Riser murmured near her ear. "I never explained how this space works."
His breath against her ear was enough to make her shiver.
Her ears had become so sensitive recently that her whole body reacted.
But she didn't flinch.
She listened.
"This place is a pseudo-dimensional space modeled after the Rating Game world.
But I've made improvements.
For example—
time here flows differently than in reality."
Grayfia's eyes widened.
"Formally, the days here pass,
but actual time is frozen.
Even if you survive hundreds of years in here,
the moment you leave, you return to the exact time you entered."
He said it so casually.
As if he hadn't just described an eternal prison he built with his own power.
What kind of force could do this?
Was this truly connected to the Phoenix immortality trait?
Some irregular mutation born from that?
The unfairness of it pierced Grayfia's heart like ice.
"And so," Riser continued lightly,
"I could simply fuck you here forever.
But that wouldn't be interesting.
Given enough years, I'd obviously win."
Grayfia stiffened.
"So instead… let's make it a short-term match.
If you win,
I'll let you return to your family."
His words were appealing — dangerously so.
A short contest favored her.
She'd endured all this time; she could endure a bit longer.
"But if I win," Riser smiled,
"you'll be my wife.
Forever."
Grayfia froze.
Why propose something that favored her so strongly?
Riser was cunning.
He wasn't the type to gamble unless the deck was rigged.
Was he rushing because he couldn't break her yet?
No — that didn't make sense.
He was too meticulous, too confident.
There must be a catch.
But whatever the reason,
this was her only chance.
"I understand," she said quietly.
"What is the contest?"
"That," Riser said, his smile widening,
"is simple.
You still have the right to love me genuinely.
You have thirteen days of that right left."
Grayfia swallowed.
"We'll use it all here.
If you can go thirteen days without falling into my arms as a woman—
I'll give up."
Simple.
Cruel.
Deceptively generous.
Thirteen days was nothing compared to what she'd endured.
She could do it.
"Do you accept?"
Grayfia took a breath.
"I accept."
And so began the match.
Day 1
Riser was surprisingly gentle.
"Good morning, Riser," she said politely.
He treated her as an equal —
not as a maid,
but as a wife.
He even forbade her from speaking in formal tone,
forcing her to act naturally, affectionately.
It was part of the "right" she had granted him —
the right for her to act as a wife who loves him.
She played along, because she had to.
It wasn't painful.
Pretending affection was easy compared to the nights she'd endured.
"Breakfast is ready," she said.
At 7 a.m., she shook his shoulder to wake him.
Instead, he pulled her into bed with unexpected strength.
Grayfia braced herself —
but he simply held her.
Not sex.
Not groping.
Just warmth.
His sleeping face was strangely innocent,
free of the wicked grin he usually wore.
Her guard… loosened, just a little.
"Riser," she whispered.
He didn't open his eyes —
but his arms tightened around her gently.
It didn't hurt.
It felt like being held by someone who simply needed closeness.
His hands were large.
Not groping her, not humiliating her —
just holding.
She rested against him quietly.
Her ear pressed to his chest,
she heard a steady heartbeat:
Thump… thump…
Even this man…
had a living heart.
A troublesome man.
A terrifying man.
But still a devil like her.
He would never understand
that she already had a family,
already had love,
and wanted nothing with him.
Still… she wondered.
If she were in his place —
if she loved someone already married —
would she chase them anyway?
Would she cling to them even if they belonged to someone else?
The memory of the "infidelity video" flashed in her head.
She tried to shove it away…
but it kept returning.
If Sirzechs really had cheated…
What should she do?
Pretend she didn't know?
Ask him to stop?
Would he even listen…?
The idea of being betrayed was terrifying.
She compared Sirzechs to Riser.
If she asked Riser to abandon all other women
and devote himself to her alone—
he would do it instantly.
Without hesitation.
He had shown that obsession.
Twisted love.
She shouldn't want it.
Grayfia breathed deeply and waited for Riser to wake.
Eventually, he opened his eyes.
"Good morning, Grayfia," he murmured,
kissing her cheek.
She forced a sweet expression and kissed him back.
No escalation.
Just affection.
Riser rose from bed and took her hand.
Grayfia felt confused.
Why wasn't he attacking her?
Why wasn't he fucking her?
Still — she saved her strength.
He would eventually.
She needed stamina.
Breakfast
"Delicious, Grayfia," he said.
"I'm glad. Eat as much as you like."
They sat at a small table in a small room
designed like a Japanese home.
Not the mansion's grand dining hall —
but a humble domestic space.
Why did he prepare a room like this?
If he wanted an everyday married life,
why not move their bedroom too?
She didn't understand.
They chatted over breakfast —
pointless small talk she'd forget tomorrow.
It felt unreal.
Useless.
Like wasted time.
Was he getting bored of her?
Was this match even serious anymore?
No—
Riser was not the type to toss away a toy.
If he were bored, he'd discard her immediately.
He wouldn't drag it out.
So why…?
Grayfia watched him carefully
while smiling politely.
After Breakfast
They moved to the sofa —
a small one that could seat three.
A TV played morning human-world news.
Riser liked Earth, especially Japan.
That was new to her.
Not that it mattered;
once this match ended,
she would cut ties with him forever.
Still…
some of his mysteries were beginning to fade.
Maybe—
he wasn't entirely a monster.
The thought surprised her.
He wasn't harmless.
Not at all.
But he wasn't an irredeemable villain either.
She found herself acting more naturally around him.
Sitting closer.
Letting him hold her.
Returning his embrace.
"I love you," he said.
"…Yes. I love you too."
Words spoken only because she had to.
But… a faint trace of fondness crept in.
Riser seemed hungry for love.
Maybe he had suffered something in the past.
He sometimes wore a lonely expression.
Remembering the overwhelming desire he had for her,
she wondered if it came from pain.
Even if he had done terrible things—
perhaps he too was a victim of his own desires.
A foolish thought.
She chided herself internally.
He was a beast.
She shouldn't soften toward him.
And yet…
Even if he was cruel…
even if he did horrible things…
there was a part of Grayfia that couldn't help wondering:
Why does this man love me so desperately?
Was she simply convenient?
Was he just chasing her out of lust?
Or—
did he have some reason she didn't know?
It didn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
Once she returned to her family,
she would never speak to Riser again.
That was already decided.
She forced herself to remember that.
A Sudden Change
At some point, the casual, quiet atmosphere shifted.
Riser drew her closer by the waist
and kissed her deeply.
Not forced.
Not dominant.
Just… a kiss between lovers.
Grayfia's heart jolted.
She knew she had to respond as a wife would —
and she did.
Her lips moved softly against his.
Her hand rested on his shoulder.
Her breath trembled.
This wasn't the brutal Riser she'd known.
This was—
No. Stop. Don't think that.
She reminded herself this was an act.
Both of them were performing roles.
There was nothing real about it.
But Riser looked genuinely content.
He stroked her cheek gently.
"You're beautiful, Grayfia."
She forced a small, innocent smile.
"Thank you… Riser."
The smile was fake.
But the reaction he showed wasn't.
He looked… relieved.
Relieved in a way that almost made her chest tighten.
Why?
Why did he look like someone who had been waiting his whole life
for a moment this small?
Her mind raced for an explanation—
but before she could find one,
he embraced her.
"I'm glad," he whispered against her hair.
"That you're by my side."
Her heartbeat skipped.
Was this dangerous?
This closeness?
This tenderness?
She didn't know.
No—
she refused to know.
Even if some part of her felt something stir,
she would not acknowledge it.
Domestic Moments
They spent the afternoon doing trivial things.
She brewed tea.
He asked her about her favorite foods.
She asked him about Earth customs.
He tried to show her how to use a smartphone
and got excited when she typed something correctly.
It was ridiculous.
Childish.
Unnecessary.
But…
It felt strangely peaceful.
That frightened her more than any sexual torment he had inflicted.
Because this kind of peace was dangerous.
Too easy to sink into.
Too easy to grow… accustomed to.
Night Falls
Riser prepared dinner.
Grayfia had rarely seen him cook,
but he handled it naturally —
not a master chef,
but someone trying hard for her sake.
It was almost endearing.
They talked about pointless things over the meal.
About television.
About which tea she preferred.
About stories from the Underworld.
Even topics she never thought she would discuss with someone like him.
She laughed once.
Only once.
But Riser noticed.
His eyes softened with delight.
She quickly hid her face, pretending to fix her hair.
This was bad.
Very bad.
She had to be careful.
Bedtime Approaches
They returned to the bedroom.
Not the grand, ornate one —
but a modest, warm space resembling a normal couple's room.
Grayfia's guard rose slowly.
This should be the moment he pushed her down,
spread her legs,
and fucked her senseless.
Instead—
"Let's sleep," he said gently.
Grayfia blinked.
"…You don't want to…?"
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Not that she wanted it.
But she expected it.
Riser smiled faintly.
"Not tonight."
He slid into bed and lifted the blanket slightly.
"Come here."
Her heart beat too fast.
This was bad.
Not because he was about to violate her —
but because he wasn't.
This tenderness had more power than any brutal assault.
Still, she played her part.
She crawled into bed beside him.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Not grabbing.
Not forcing.
Simply holding.
He rested his forehead against hers.
"Good night, Grayfia."
Her breath caught.
"…Good night… Riser."
She closed her eyes,
feeling the warmth of his body,
the steady rise and fall of his chest,
the quietness of the room.
This was dangerous.
If he attacked her, she could endure it.
If he humiliated her, she could resist mentally.
She had survived far worse.
But this—
This kindness…
this fragile, gentle closeness…
This was far harder to protect her heart against.
She clutched the blanket.
Stay focused.
Stay strong.
This was only Day 1.
Twelve days remained.
Grayfia didn't sleep.
She kept her eyes closed,
her breathing steady,
her expression serene —
—but only because that was the role she had to play.
In truth, the closeness was suffocating.
Riser's warm arm around her shoulder,
his chest pressed lightly against her back,
the gentle rhythm of his breath hitting the nape of her neck—
It all felt too real.
Too intimate.
Too much like the life she should have had
with the husband who betrayed her.
And that…
that was what terrified her.
If Riser had used her body violently,
she could endure it as humiliation.
If he had used her as an object,
she could detach herself emotionally.
If he had degraded her,
she could pretend none of it mattered.
But this—
A man holding her like a lover,
with no force, no threats,
nothing but warmth…
This could slip into a wounded heart
far too easily.
She didn't want that.
She couldn't allow that.
Not now.
Not ever.
Riser Notices
"You're awake."
His voice was soft.
Much too soft.
Grayfia opened her eyes slowly,
pretending she had just stirred.
"…I apologize. Did I wake you?"
"No," he answered with a small smile.
"I just felt you holding your breath."
She froze.
He lifted a hand
and brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"You can relax around me. I won't do anything."
That made it worse.
So much worse.
"…I am relaxed," she lied.
He chuckled quietly.
"You're terrible at lying, Grayfia."
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
Riser pulled her gently against his chest again,
resting his chin atop her head.
"You don't need to fear me tonight."
Fear?
That wasn't the word.
The emotion tangled in her chest felt nothing like fear.
But she couldn't admit that.
"…I do not fear you."
"Then stay like this," he whispered.
She hesitated.
But she stayed.
A Dangerous Calm
Minutes turned into an hour.
The room was quiet.
Only their breaths echoed softly.
Grayfia began to feel something unfamiliar —
a sense of being… safe.
Not because of trust.
Not because she believed he wouldn't hurt her.
It was simply his warmth.
His steady heartbeat.
The way he didn't demand anything.
Didn't touch her further.
Didn't try to move her body.
He just held her.
And that gentleness tore at her resolve far more painfully
than any assault ever could.
She forced her mind to wander.
This is temporary.
Only thirteen days.
Once you return home…
you will never see him again.
She repeated those thoughts like a spell.
But the warmth of the man holding her
kept breaking that mantra apart.
A Brief Question
"Grayfia," Riser murmured.
"Yes…?"
"What did you dream of last night? Before we met?"
The question was so harmless
that she froze in confusion.
No man had asked her something so… ordinary
in a very long time.
She swallowed.
"…I do not remember."
Riser laughed softly.
"That's a lie too."
Her breath caught.
He stroked her arm slowly.
"You always have that expression when you're thinking about home."
She stiffened.
"I told you I would not harm your family," he continued.
"And I won't."
Her chest tightened.
Not because she didn't believe him —
but because she did.
And that frightened her even more.
She Shifts
Grayfia turned slightly,
enough to look over her shoulder at him.
Her silver eyes were calm,
but something faint —
a tiny, fragile warmth —
lingered beneath.
"…Why are you treating me like this?"
Riser blinked.
"Like what?"
"Like I am someone important," she whispered.
"Like I am your lover."
He didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"Because that's how I see you."
Grayfia's breath trembled.
"That is impossible."
"Maybe," he murmured.
"But it doesn't change how I feel."
Her heart throbbed painfully.
No. No. Don't let this reach you.
She shut her eyes again.
"…This is a mistake," she whispered.
"A misunderstanding. You do not—"
Riser pulled her close,
burying her against his chest.
"No misunderstandings."
His arms wrapped around her
with a firmness that wasn't forceful
but was impossible to escape.
"You're mine."
Her breath hitched.
"And I'll prove it to you. Slowly.
Not with your body —
not for tonight —
but with your heart."
Her eyes flew open.
That was the most dangerous promise
he could have made.
Ever.
The Night Ends
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with her.
Her breaths softened.
Her body loosened against his.
Her fingers uncurled.
She fell asleep in his arms.
Riser watched the peaceful expression on her face
and brushed her hair affectionately.
"Good," he whispered.
"It's starting."
He kissed her forehead lightly —
a soft, almost reverent gesture.
Then he closed his eyes,
holding her against him
as if she were the most precious woman in the world.
And for him—
she was.
Morning came quietly.
Grayfia woke first.
Her eyes fluttered open,
and she felt warmth behind her —
strong arms wrapped gently around her waist,
Riser's breathing steady against her back.
For a moment, still half-asleep,
she almost relaxed instinctively into the embrace.
Almost.
Then full awareness returned.
She stiffened.
She shouldn't be here.
She shouldn't allow this closeness.
She shouldn't let him hold her like a wife.
She tried to slip out of his arms quietly.
But Riser's grip tightened.
"Don't go," he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Grayfia froze.
"…Please release me. It is morning. I must prepare."
He slowly opened his eyes.
And smiled.
Not the sadistic, hungry smirk she had seen so many times.
A soft one.
Gentle.
Warm.
That made her pulse jump far more than cruelty ever had.
"You can prepare later," he whispered.
"For now, stay a little longer."
"I… cannot."
He sat up slightly, still holding her.
"You can," he said simply.
"I'm not asking as your master. I'm asking as the man who—"
He stopped himself.
But she already understood the unsaid words.
Her heart constricted.
"…Riser."
"Yes?"
"You must not say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it is meaningless."
He looked genuinely hurt.
That surprised her so much
she had to look away.
She Tries to Reset the Distance
Grayfia stood from the bed and adjusted her clothing,
pushing her emotions down beneath her usual mask.
"We should maintain proper boundaries," she said quietly.
"Yesterday's behavior was… unnecessary."
Riser sat up slowly.
"Do you regret it?"
She hesitated.
A fatal second too long.
"…Yes."
The lie was clean.
Perfect.
But Riser saw through it instantly.
He rose from the bed, walked to her slowly,
and cupped her cheek lightly.
"You don't lie well in the morning," he murmured.
She slapped his hand away.
Hard.
"Do not touch me in such a manner."
Riser went silent for a moment.
Then he chuckled softly.
"That's the Grayfia I know."
She hated how her body reacted to his smile —
a faint sting of guilt,
a flicker of something warm she absolutely shouldn't feel.
Breakfast — And Tension
Riser cooked again.
Grayfia joined him in silence,
preparing tea the way he preferred —
not because she wanted to,
but because her role required it.
But the domestic atmosphere returned
despite her efforts to suppress it.
He glanced at her as they ate.
"You're quiet."
"I have nothing appropriate to say."
"You always have something."
"…That is not true."
He leaned on his hand, watching her steadily.
"You're thinking too much."
She frowned slightly.
"It is none of your concern."
"It is," he said simply,
"when it's about me."
She stiffened again.
He was too good at seeing things she wanted hidden.
Too good at reading her.
Too close.
The Mask Cracks Again
When breakfast was finished,
Riser stepped closer,
standing directly in front of her.
"Grayfia."
She refused to look at him.
"Look at me."
She hesitated — then obeyed.
His eyes were gentle again.
Warm.
Dangerously so.
"You're not a prisoner here," he said softly.
"You're not a tool.
You're not a trophy."
She inhaled sharply.
"That is exactly what I am to you."
"No," he whispered.
"You're the woman I—"
She covered his mouth with her hand.
"Do not finish that sentence.
Please."
She looked away.
"Do not make this harder than it must be."
He took her wrist gently and lowered her hand.
"Then let me say it another way."
He leaned closer, voice low.
"I want you."
Her nostrils flared slightly.
"Physically? Emotionally? Both?"
"Yes."
Her heart nearly stopped.
She stepped back.
"This is… this is foolish. I am a married woman."
"Your husband betrayed you."
"That does not erase my vows."
"Does it erase your loneliness?" he countered.
The question hit her like a blade.
Grayfia swallowed hard.
"You know nothing of my loneliness."
Riser smiled faintly.
"That's what I'm trying to change."
She Weakens for a Moment
He reached out —
slowly, giving her time to withdraw.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed her silver hair
with a tenderness that made her knees weaken unexpectedly.
"Grayfia," he murmured.
"You act like you're made of steel,
but you're softer than anyone I've ever met."
"Stop," she whispered.
"You're gentle.
You're loyal.
You're strong.
And you're hurting."
Her breath shook.
"And I want to be the one you lean on."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"You cannot—"
"Yes," he whispered,
pulling her into a slow, warm embrace.
"Yes, I can."
Her hands hovered in the air.
For one heartbeat,
she almost clutched the fabric of his shirt.
She almost gave in.
Almost.
Then she pushed him away violently.
"No!"
Riser's eyes widened — not in anger,
but in quiet surprise.
Grayfia backed several steps away, breathing hard.
"This cannot happen," she said.
"I will not betray him the way he betrayed me.
I refuse to become what he is."
Riser stared at her for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
Soft.
Understanding.
Dangerous.
"I won't rush you."
Her eyes shook.
"I'm not asking you to betray him."
He stepped closer.
"I'm asking you to choose yourself."
Her heart pounded painfully.
"You have twelve days," he said quietly.
"And I will spend every one of them showing you
that you deserve more than a husband who broke you."
She trembled.
Not in fear.
In something far more dangerous.
Grayfia stood there, breathing unevenly,
trying to regain the cold composure she was known for.
Riser didn't approach again.
He simply watched her —
not with hunger this time,
but with a quiet intensity
that made her chest feel unbearably tight.
She finally managed to speak.
"…What do you want from me today?"
He smiled softly.
"Nothing.
Just spend the day with me."
She froze.
"No requirements," he added.
"No orders.
No touching unless you choose it."
Her brows drew together.
"I do not understand your intentions."
"You will," he said calmly.
"I'm not trying to trap you."
She almost laughed at that.
A bitter, humorless sound slipped from her lips.
"Not trying to trap me? Riser, you abducted me."
He met her eyes without flinching.
"I brought you here," he corrected gently.
"To show you the truth.
Not to cage you."
"That is the same thing," she said sharply.
"Is it?"
He stepped just close enough for her to feel his presence.
"You could have tried to run yesterday.
You didn't."
She stiffened instantly.
"That was because—"
"Because a part of you didn't want to," he finished quietly.
Her heart jolted with anger and panic.
"You presume too much."
"Do I?" He tilted his head.
"Then tell me.
Why didn't you try to escape when you had the chance?"
She opened her mouth—
and hesitated.
Just one second.
But it was enough.
Riser's eyes darkened with certainty.
"See?" he murmured.
Grayfia shook her head harshly.
"You twist everything."
"I don't need to twist anything," he answered softly.
"I just need to look at you."
That made her furious.
Not because he was wrong—
but because he was dangerously close to being right.
A Day of "Normalcy"
Riser led the way out of the bedroom.
Grayfia followed, because refusing wasn't an option
—
not because she wanted to.
That's what she kept telling herself.
They moved through a series of environments
Riser had meticulously created.
A quiet garden.
A reading room.
A simple living space that looked like an Earth apartment.
A warm outdoor terrace beneath artificial sunlight.
He walked beside her,
talking casually about mundane things—
topics so shockingly ordinary she almost forgot her situation.
He pointed out birds he had recreated from memory,
a tea blend he had imitated from the human world,
a book he thought she might like.
Each small detail felt designed for one purpose:
To make her lower her guard.
And she hated how effective it was.
Because with every passing hour,
the weight in her chest worsened.
Not from fear.
From the terrifying possibility
that this life — this unreal domestic peace —
was something she had longed for more deeply than she ever admitted.
That Riser knew that
was the most dangerous thing of all.
A Quiet Moment on the Terrace
They sat on the terrace as artificial sunlight warmed her hair.
Riser looked out at the horizon
— a painted sky he had conjured himself.
"I want to build a real place like this someday," he said suddenly.
"A home."
Grayfia didn't reply.
He glanced at her.
"Do you think it's foolish?"
"…No."
"You're lying again."
She inhaled sharply.
"You are insufferable."
He laughed—
not mockingly,
but with genuine amusement.
"You keep saying you're not gentle with your words," he said,
"but you haven't said one truly cruel thing to me yet."
"…You are imagining things."
"Am I?"
He leaned closer.
"Then tell me something cruel. Something meant to hurt me."
She opened her mouth—
But nothing came.
Nothing she could say
felt true enough to carry malice.
Her lips pressed together in frustration.
"…I have nothing to say."
Riser's smile deepened.
"Exactly."
He Touches Her Hand — And She Doesn't Move
A breeze brushed past them
— conjured, artificial, but warm.
Grayfia's hair swayed.
Without thinking,
Riser reached out
and gently placed a hand atop hers.
Her entire body tightened.
He didn't squeeze.
Didn't pull.
Just rested his hand over hers, warm and steady.
She should have pulled away instantly.
She didn't.
The contact was small —
barely anything compared to what he'd done to her body before.
Yet this simple touch
felt far more intimate.
Far more dangerous.
Riser's voice lowered.
"…If you really hated me," he whispered,
"you would have moved."
Her breath caught.
"I… am tired," she lied.
"No," he murmured.
"You're scared."
She turned her face away sharply.
"Of what?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Of the part of you that doesn't hate me."
Her eyes widened.
"That part doesn't exist," she said quickly.
"That's another lie."
His thumb brushed her knuckles gently.
Grayfia swallowed hard.
"I do not—"
She forced the words out.
"I do not feel anything for you."
"Then why are you trembling?"
She jerked her hand away as if burned.
"That is enough," she whispered.
"We should return inside."
Riser stood slowly.
"As you wish."
He let her walk ahead.
But she could feel his gaze —
soft, patient, confident —
on her back.
That frightened her more than his dominance ever had.
The Day Ends
Evening fell across the artificial sky.
Grayfia changed clothes in silence,
wearing a modest nightgown Riser had provided.
She approached the bed with her chin lifted
and her emotions sealed behind perfect composure.
"Tonight," she said,
"I will sleep on the sofa."
Riser blinked.
"…Why?"
"Because sharing a bed is inappropriate."
He studied her carefully.
Then he walked past her
and sat on the sofa instead.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"If you won't sleep on the bed, then neither will I."
She stared at him.
"That is unnecessary."
Riser smiled faintly.
"It is."
"…You will be uncomfortable."
"I've had worse."
She clenched her fists.
"You do not need to do that for me."
"I know."
He leaned back on the sofa.
"But I want to."
Grayfia felt her heart twist painfully.
She turned away.
"This is foolish," she whispered.
"Maybe," he said.
"But it's honest."
She walked to the bed,
closed her eyes,
and lay down.
Sleep did not come easily.
Because for the first time since she arrived—
she wasn't terrified of Riser's darkness.
She was terrified of his light.
Grayfia barely slept that night.
Every time she closed her eyes,
she became aware of the faint sound of Riser shifting on the sofa,
the quiet rhythm of his breathing,
the occasional sigh as he tried to get comfortable.
He wasn't faking it.
He really was sleeping there.
Because she said she didn't want to share the bed.
The realization tightened something deep inside her chest.
This was wrong.
This was cruel.
This was manipulative.
This was dangerous.
But it was also…
kind.
An infuriating, disarming kind of kindness
that she didn't know how to endure.
She turned over in the bed,
staring at the ceiling.
Why was he doing this?
Why go through all this trouble for her?
She should have hated him even more
for making things so confusing.
But instead—
She just felt tired.
Riser Stirs
"Grayfia…?"
His voice drifted through the darkness.
She froze.
"…What is it?"
He sat up on the sofa,
his silhouette barely visible in the dim light.
"Are you awake?"
"I am now."
He rubbed the back of his neck lightly.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."
She closed her eyes.
"It is fine."
A short silence followed.
Then Riser spoke again, softer this time.
"…Are you cold?"
"No."
"You're lying."
She exhaled sharply.
"Stop accusing me of that."
"I will," he said,
"when you stop lying."
She clenched her jaw.
Why was he like this?
Why did he insist on pressing against every wall she erected?
He stood up and approached the bed.
Grayfia tensed immediately.
"Do not—"
He stopped at the edge,
not close enough to touch,
but close enough for her to feel his presence.
"I won't lie down unless you tell me to."
She glared.
"I will not tell you to."
"Then I'll stay right here."
"…Why?"
He hesitated for the first time that night.
Then he spoke, barely above a whisper.
"Because I can't sleep if you're upset."
That made her heart flip painfully.
"You… should not care about such things."
"I do."
Grayfia swallowed hard.
"This is not appropriate."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because I meant what I said earlier."
His voice dropped, warm and vulnerable.
"I want you."
Her breath caught.
"And not just your body."
That admission shattered something fragile inside her.
The Moment Breaks
Grayfia turned her head away sharply.
"You must stop saying such things."
"Why?"
"Because they are meaningless."
She hated the way her voice trembled.
Riser didn't step closer.
He didn't reach for her.
He simply stood at the bedside,
quiet, resolute, waiting.
"Grayfia," he murmured.
"If all I wanted was your body,
I've already had it."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"We both know that means nothing."
"You're right," he said softly.
"Not if your heart wasn't in it."
Her fingers tightened on the blanket.
He continued, voice steady.
"And that's what I'm trying to change.
Not with force.
Not with power.
Not with fear."
A long pause.
"But by being someone you can eventually look at
without pain."
Her throat constricted.
Why did those words hurt more than everything else he'd done?
He Turns Away
Riser finally stepped back.
"I won't say any more tonight."
Grayfia frowned slightly.
He walked back to the sofa,
settled down,
and pulled a thin blanket over himself.
"Sleep well," he murmured.
She didn't answer.
But her chest felt unbearably tight.
Morning Comes Again
Grayfia woke before sunrise.
She sat up quietly
and glanced toward the sofa.
Riser was asleep,
his body curled uncomfortably,
his arm dangling off the edge.
He looked…
Vulnerable.
She stared longer than she meant to.
He had tormented her.
Taken her body.
Broken her marriage.
Humiliated her repeatedly.
Yet—
He slept like someone who carried the weight of the world alone.
And for one dangerous heartbeat,
she felt pity.
She stood silently,
walked to the kitchen area,
and began preparing tea.
She didn't know why.
It wasn't obligation.
It wasn't fear.
It was something far worse:
Habit.
A part of her had begun to move around him
the same way she once did for her husband.
She hated that.
She hated herself for that.
And yet—
She continued brewing the tea.
Riser Wakes to a Quiet Scene
He sat up groggily,
rubbing his neck.
"…Grayfia?"
She didn't turn around.
"There is tea on the table."
He blinked.
"You made it?"
She measured her words carefully.
"It seemed inefficient to wait until you woke."
Riser smiled softly.
"Thank you."
"That was not gratitude-worthy," she countered immediately.
"It is to me."
She stiffened at the sincerity in his voice.
Riser approached the table slowly,
sat across from her,
and took a sip.
"…It tastes exactly like the kind you made yesterday."
"I followed the same measurements."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"You're trying not to soften toward me."
She tensed.
"Of course."
"But you already have."
Grayfia's breath hitched.
"That is not true."
"You made tea for me," he said softly.
"You don't even realize what that means."
She opened her mouth—
but no argument came.
Because he was right.
And that terrified her.
His Quiet Conclusion
Riser leaned back slightly,
studying her with eyes far too gentle.
"…Grayfia."
"…What?"
"I told you it wouldn't happen overnight."
He lifted the cup again,
his voice warm, calm, confident.
"But your heart has already taken the first step."
Her fingers tightened around her own cup.
"That is a delusion."
"No," he whispered.
"It's the beginning."
She stood abruptly.
"I am going outside."
"Take your time," he said softly.
"I'll be here."
His gentleness made her flee the room
more quickly than any cruelty could.
Because now—
she wasn't running from Riser.
She was running from herself.
Grayfia stepped outside into the simulated morning air.
It was cool.
Unnaturally perfect.
Not too cold, not too warm—
the kind of artificial comfort that only reminded her
that this world wasn't real.
She hated that it soothed her anyway.
She wrapped her arms around herself
and walked along the quiet path
toward the garden area Riser had created.
Everything here was a replica of the Gremory estate's gardens—
roses, immaculately trimmed hedges,
the faint scent of morning dew.
It felt like stepping back into a memory
she no longer knew how to return to.
Grayfia sat on a stone bench,
letting the silence wash over her.
Here, no one called her "Lady Grayfia".
No servants bustled around.
No responsibilities pressed down on her shoulders.
It was supposed to be a prison.
So why did it feel like the only place
she could finally breathe?
She pressed fingertips to her temples.
"This is wrong," she whispered to herself.
But her body relaxed despite the words.
Her mind fought.
Her heart hesitated.
Her instincts betrayed her.
Everything felt conflicting—
sharp, tangled, suffocating.
She didn't hear Riser approaching
until his shadow touched her feet.
Riser Speaks Softly
"May I sit?"
She flinched slightly.
She hadn't sensed him.
He'd never approached quietly before.
"Do as you like."
He sat beside her—
not too close,
not touching,
but present.
The distance was intentional.
Grayfia hated how much she appreciated that.
Riser rested his elbows on his knees
and looked out over the garden.
"I used to come here a lot," he said quietly.
"In the real Gremory gardens, I mean.
Back when I was still trying to impress Rias."
Grayfia's expression tightened.
She said nothing.
"But I was always alone," he continued.
"She never came.
Never cared to."
A faint smile tugged at his lips—
a tired one, not bitter.
"I suppose it's ironic," he murmured.
"That I ended up spending time here with you instead."
Grayfia lifted her chin slightly.
"That is not irony," she said coolly.
"That is circumstance."
He looked at her then,
eyes steady, unreadable.
"…Do you dislike it so much?
Being here with me?"
She froze.
He didn't ask with arrogance.
Or taunting.
Or possessiveness.
He asked like a man
who genuinely wanted the answer.
She turned her head away.
"I do not dislike it," she admitted.
Riser inhaled—
a small, quiet breath.
The kind someone takes when they're trying not to show relief.
"…Thank you."
Grayfia clenched her hands.
"Do not misunderstand," she added quickly.
"It does not mean I have forgiven you."
"I know."
"It does not mean I want this."
"I know."
"It does not mean I intend to remain."
His voice was soft.
"…I know."
She exhaled sharply, frustrated.
"Then why do you look at me like that?"
His answer came after a long silence.
"Because even if you don't love me now…"
He leaned forward slightly,
not touching, just… closer.
"…there are moments when you stop hating me."
Her breath caught.
"And those moments," he said gently,
"are enough for me to keep trying."
Grayfia's pulse quickened.
She hated how he spoke—
not forcefully,
not desperately,
but quietly, earnestly.
That made it harder to fight.
She stood abruptly.
"I am returning inside."
Riser remained seated,
watching her with calm eyes.
"Take your time," he said again.
She left quickly,
heart thudding harder than she wanted it to.
Back Indoors
She stepped inside the quiet living room
and shut the door behind her.
Her breathing was uneven.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
"Why…
why does he speak like that…"
No chains.
No threats.
No demands.
Just patience.
She had expected a monster.
But now she faced a man
who looked at her
like she was the only real thing in his world.
It made her feel—
She cut off the thought instantly.
No.
No, absolutely not.
She moved to the kitchen,
desperate to occupy her hands with something, anything.
She reached for the teapot—
and froze.
The table was clean.
The cups washed.
Dried.
Put back neatly where they belonged.
Riser had done it.
She stared at the empty counter.
This wasn't part of their "game."
This wasn't seduction.
It wasn't dominance.
It wasn't manipulation.
It was…
mundane consideration.
Domesticity.
She hated how deeply it shook her.
Footsteps approached behind her.
She didn't turn around,
but she felt his presence.
Riser's voice was low.
"…Grayfia."
She stiffened.
"What?"
"You don't have to run whenever something scares you."
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the counter.
"I am not running."
"You are."
"…And if I am?"
Riser stepped a little closer,
careful, slow, deliberate.
Then he spoke with quiet certainty.
"Then I'll wait until you stop."
Her breath hitched.
Because for the first time in a very long time—
someone wasn't trying to break her.
He was waiting for her.
Grayfia didn't answer him.
Couldn't answer him.
Her heart beat too loudly in her chest,
each throb sending a confusing mix of emotions up her throat.
She closed her eyes.
"…Leave me," she whispered.
Riser didn't move.
"I said—"
"I heard you," he murmured.
"But you don't want me to leave."
Her breath trembled.
"That is not true."
"Then tell me to go, Grayfia."
His voice remained maddeningly soft.
"Tell me you want to be alone.
Not because you think you should,
but because you truly want it."
Her lips parted—
but the words didn't come.
She couldn't lie when pressed like this.
Not when he used that tone.
Not when he treated her like she wasn't something he already owned.
Something inside her cracked painfully.
"…You are insufferable," she whispered.
Riser smiled faintly.
"I've been called worse."
She hated that she almost laughed.
She turned away sharply,
pressing a hand to the side of her face
and swallowing down the heat rising through her body.
"Grayfia," he said quietly,
"look at me."
She didn't.
She couldn't.
He stepped closer—
not enough to touch,
but enough for his warmth to reach her back.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," he murmured.
"I'm asking for your truth."
She bit her lip.
The truth.
What was the truth now?
She didn't know.
Not anymore.
Her voice came out small,
strained.
"…I want peace."
Riser exhaled softly.
"And do I disturb that peace?"
Grayfia hesitated—
—and that hesitation alone was an answer.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
But he didn't push.
Instead, he stepped back.
"Then I'll give you space," he murmured.
"Not because you asked for it—
but because you need it."
She didn't thank him.
She refused to.
But the relief she felt made her chest loosen painfully.
Riser walked away silently,
returning to the living space.
Grayfia stood frozen,
hands trembling over the counter.
She whispered to herself—
"…Why is he doing this…?"
Because this wasn't the man she thought she was fighting.
This wasn't the brute
who used her body
and shattered her resolve.
This was someone else.
Someone she didn't know how to fight.
Someone she didn't know how to hate.
And that terrified her more than anything.
Time Slips Forward
They spent the next hours separately.
Grayfia remained in the kitchen area,
forcing herself into calm breathing,
trying to untangle the knot twisting inside her chest.
Riser, true to his word,
did not bother her.
She heard faint sounds from the other room—
the rustling of papers,
the turning of pages,
occasional footsteps.
He wasn't sulking.
He wasn't waiting like a predator.
He was simply… living.
Existing beside her
without demanding anything.
The absence of pressure
made her feel more unsteady
than any forceful advance ever had.
Eventually, she composed herself enough
to leave the kitchen.
She walked toward the living room—
slowly, cautiously,
as if approaching a fragile thing she feared might break.
Riser sat on the sofa,
reading a book.
Not a magical tome,
not a historical text,
not something grand or ancient.
A cheap paperback romance novel
from the human world.
She blinked.
"You read those?"
Her voice came out more surprised than she meant.
He glanced up.
"Sometimes."
"…Why?"
He shrugged lightly.
"It relaxes me."
She stared at him.
This powerful devil,
this fearsome force,
this man who had destroyed her composure
again and again—
—read human romance novels.
He noticed her stare
and smirked faintly.
"Is that surprising?"
"Very."
He held up the book.
"This one is set in Tokyo."
"I thought you liked human culture."
She paused.
"…I do."
He closed the book gently,
marking his page with a finger.
"Would you like to sit?"
She hesitated—
but her feet moved on their own.
She sat on the opposite end of the sofa,
leaving a careful gap between them.
Riser didn't close that distance.
"Do you want me to read aloud?" he offered.
The suggestion startled her.
"…Why?"
"You seem distracted.
A story might help."
Grayfia's lips parted.
Being offered comfort—
not control,
not seduction,
not dominance—
comfort—
was almost more disarming than everything else.
"I do not require—"
But her voice faltered.
Riser tilted his head.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
Her chest tightened again.
She looked away.
"…Yes," she whispered reluctantly.
"…Read."
He nodded once
and began reading aloud.
His voice was deep,
steady,
warm.
The human protagonist met a girl in a café.
They exchanged shy glances.
Misunderstandings tangled their romance.
Little confessions led to bigger mistakes.
Everything was painfully earnest,
awkward,
simple.
Grayfia listened.
Against her will.
Against her better judgment.
Her breathing softened.
Her shoulders relaxed.
Her heartbeat steadied.
Riser kept reading,
never glancing at her,
never moving closer,
never exploiting her vulnerability.
For the first time in a very, very long while—
Grayfia felt safe.
Not as a servant.
Not as a possession.
Not as a captive.
But as a woman
sitting beside someone
who wasn't trying to break her.
And that—
that was more dangerous than anything he had done before.
When he eventually paused to take a breath,
she spoke without thinking.
"…Continue."
Riser smiled faintly.
"As you wish."
And he kept reading.
For hours.
Until her eyes became heavy.
Until her body leaned ever so slightly toward his warmth.
Until the boundary between enemy and companion
blurred into something terrifyingly soft.
When her head finally dipped—
Riser shifted just enough
that she rested lightly against his shoulder.
Grayfia's breath slowed.
She did not wake.
She did not pull away.
She simply slept.
Peacefully.
Riser closed the book quietly,
looked down at her sleeping face,
and murmured—
"…I'll keep waiting."
Grayfia didn't know how long she slept.
When she finally stirred awake,
the first thing she felt was warmth—
a steady, solid warmth against her cheek.
Her eyes opened slowly.
Her head was resting on Riser's shoulder.
Her body went rigid in an instant.
"…!"
She jerked upright, breath catching—
but Riser immediately lifted both hands, palms open,
as if showing her he hadn't moved a single finger.
"You fell asleep," he said gently.
"I didn't wake you."
Grayfia looked away sharply,
cheeks warming in a mix of embarrassment and anger.
"I did not intend to fall asleep beside you."
"I know."
"I must have been exhausted."
"You were."
His calm, unbothered tone only made her more unsettled.
This wasn't how their dynamic was supposed to work.
He wasn't supposed to be… gentle.
He wasn't supposed to be attentive.
He wasn't supposed to look at her
with that quiet, patient warmth
instead of raw desire.
It made everything harder.
It made her heart hurt.
She stood abruptly.
"We should not— I should not—"
She exhaled sharply.
"I will take a walk."
Riser nodded.
"Alright. I'll stay here."
She glared at him.
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it."
That made her chest twist painfully again.
Grayfia left the room quickly.
The Garden Again
She returned to the simulated gardens,
as if nature— even artificial nature—
could help her think.
It didn't.
Her thoughts were a mess.
She wasn't used to softness from him.
She knew how to fight cruelty.
She knew how to resist domination.
She knew how to keep her heart sealed
against a man who demanded,
who took,
who overpowered.
But kindness—
Kindness was a weapon she had no armor against.
She sank onto the bench,
head in her hands.
"He is trying to break me differently," she whispered.
"Through patience instead of force."
Was that better?
Was it worse?
She didn't know.
The wind— artificial as it was— ruffled her hair.
She closed her eyes.
For a terrifying moment,
she wished the wind were Riser's hand.
She shook her head violently.
"No. No. Absolutely not."
But the thought lingered.
It lingered too long.
Footsteps behind her
She knew the sound.
She knew the cadence.
She knew the presence.
"This is becoming a habit," Riser said softly.
"You fleeing here."
"I am not fleeing."
"You are."
She clenched her jaw.
"It is the only place that feels…"
She stopped herself.
Riser waited patiently.
She finally whispered:
"…quiet."
Something in his expression softened—
so subtly that she almost wished she hadn't seen it.
"I can be quiet too," he murmured.
"Not when I need you to be," she shot back.
He chuckled under his breath.
"Fair enough."
He walked past her and sat on the opposite end of the bench.
Not close.
Not touching.
Just near enough that she could feel the pull of his presence.
She looked straight ahead.
"…Why are you doing this?"
He tilted his head.
"This?"
"This—"
She waved one irritated hand in his direction.
"This waiting. This softness. This… patience."
"Because it's what you need."
She blinked.
"That wasn't the question."
Riser exhaled slowly.
Then, after a long silence—
"…Because I don't want the woman I love
to only remember me as the man who hurt her."
Grayfia froze.
Her throat tightened painfully.
"You— you cannot say things like that."
"It's the truth."
"It means nothing."
"It means everything."
She stood up suddenly, heart racing.
"You cannot love me! It is irrational, impossible—"
"But I do."
She flinched at the certainty in his voice.
"It is obsession," she insisted.
"It is fixation. It is the idea of me— not me."
"No," he said quietly.
"It's you."
Her breath trembled.
He stood slowly,
walking toward her—
but again leaving enough distance
to let her choose if she wanted to step back.
She didn't move.
"You are a force of habit," she whispered.
"You have… shaped my days here.
My routines.
My reactions."
"And?"
"And now everything feels wrong when you are not near."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"And I hate that."
Riser's voice softened even further.
"Then stay near."
Her eyes snapped open.
"No!"
He blinked.
"No?"
"No. Because if I do…
I will forget the life I had."
The wind blew softly through the garden.
Riser lowered his gaze.
"That is not what I want for you."
She hesitated.
"…It isn't?"
He shook his head.
"I want you to choose me
not because you're trapped,
not because you're lost,
not because you're lonely—
but because you want to."
That made her chest ache.
"Do not speak as if you are a good man," she whispered.
"I'm not," he said quietly.
"But I can be good to you."
Her breath caught.
Damn him.
Damn him for knowing exactly how to break through her defenses.
The Moment Shifts
Grayfia turned away,
rubbing her arms as if cold.
Riser took a step back,
giving her space.
But then—
"Grayfia."
"…What."
"Come here."
She should have refused.
She knew she should have.
But her feet moved before her mind did.
She approached him slowly,
cautiously,
like someone reaching toward a flame
that could either warm them
or devour them.
He didn't reach out.
He simply stood still
and waited.
She stopped just an arm's length away.
Riser looked down at her,
expression calm, steady.
"You're scared."
She swallowed.
"…Yes."
"Of me?"
Silence.
"…Of us," she finally whispered.
His eyes softened.
"Then let me make something clear."
He raised one hand— slowly—
and rested it gently
over his own heart.
Not touching her.
Inviting her.
"Come closer," he murmured.
"Put your hand here."
Her breath shook.
"…Why?"
"So you know I'm not lying
when I say your presence changes me."
She stared at his offered chest.
She shouldn't.
She must not.
This was dangerous.
This was wrong.
This was—
Her hand lifted on its own.
Her fingertips brushed his skin over his shirt.
His heartbeat
was strong.
Warm.
Real.
He inhaled sharply at her touch—
but didn't move or grab her.
He let her feel him.
Let her choose.
Grayfia whispered—
"…Why does your heart beat like that?"
"Because you're touching me."
Her pulse fluttered violently.
She should have pulled away.
But instead—
She pressed her hand more firmly to his chest.
Riser's breath hitched.
He closed his eyes for a second
as if the sensation overwhelmed him.
When he opened them again,
his voice was low, restrained.
"I told you I would wait for you," he murmured.
"But if you take even one step toward me—
even a small one—
I won't pretend I don't feel it."
Her throat tightened.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered.
"You don't have to," he said gently.
"You're allowed to feel without understanding it."
He leaned in—
just slightly—
just enough for his forehead to almost touch hers.
"If you step back," he murmured,
"I won't follow."
Her breath shivered.
"And if I step forward?"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then I'll meet you halfway."
Grayfia stood frozen,
heart pounding,
caught in the quiet gravity between them.
The world felt too still.
Her body felt too warm.
Her will felt too fragile.
She didn't know what she would choose.
But she knew one thing with absolute clarity:
For the first time since this nightmare began—
she wasn't running.
Grayfia stood there,
frozen between retreat and surrender,
her palm still resting on the steady heat of Riser's chest.
He didn't move.
Didn't grab her hand.
Didn't pull her closer.
He simply let her feel him.
Let her feel the calm, restrained warmth beneath her fingertips.
Let her feel the faint tremor in his muscles
as he held himself back
with an effort she could practically sense.
Her voice trembled.
"…You make this difficult."
Riser smiled faintly, barely—a ghost of a smile.
"I know."
"You're not supposed to meet me halfway."
"I know that too."
"You're supposed to be a monster."
"Sometimes," he murmured,
"I wish I were.
It would make this simpler."
Grayfia swallowed hard.
"…What is 'this'?"
"You," he said quietly.
"You and the way you look at me now."
She inhaled sharply.
"I am not looking at you in any way."
"You never could lie when we were this close."
She tried to step back—
just a fraction—
but Riser didn't reach for her.
The space remained hers to choose.
Her body trembled.
"…Riser."
"Yes?"
"This cannot happen."
His voice softened.
"It already is."
Her breathing stuttered.
He leaned in—
slowly enough that she could stop him at any moment—
until their foreheads touched.
A feather-light contact.
Barely a kiss.
Barely anything.
But it burned.
Grayfia's eyes fluttered closed.
"I shouldn't want this," she whispered.
"I know."
"It is betrayal."
"Only if you go back."
Her breath caught.
"And if I want both?"
She forced the words out, strangled.
"My life. My family. And… this."
Riser exhaled against her lips.
"Then you want what every devil wants."
His tone was gentle,
painfully honest.
"You want the impossible."
Grayfia's voice trembled.
"And if you could make it possible?"
Riser answered without hesitation.
"I would."
Her chest twisted painfully.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't waver.
Didn't hide behind bravado.
He meant it.
He meant every word.
That should have made her furious.
Instead, it made her feel seen.
Too seen.
Her hand slipped from his chest—
but instead of pulling away,
her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt.
A small, instinctive grasp.
Riser made a quiet sound—
not lust,
not triumph—
but something softer,
almost unguarded.
She opened her eyes
and found his gaze waiting for her.
"…Why does this feel like falling?" she whispered.
"Because it is."
"And you will catch me?"
His expression darkened—
not with lust,
but with something frighteningly tender.
"Always."
Her breath shook.
Her resolve cracked.
Piece by piece.
And finally—
finally—
Grayfia stepped forward.
Just one step.
But it was enough.
Riser inhaled sharply
as if struck by something holy.
His hand rose,
slowly,
gently,
fingertips brushing her cheek
with a reverence that made her knees weaken.
"You stepped forward," he whispered.
"Grayfia…"
"Do not say it," she whispered.
"Do not ruin it."
He smiled softly.
"Then let me do something else."
He leaned in—
not forcefully,
not hungrily,
but with aching restraint—
and kissed her.
Barely.
Softly.
The gentlest brush of lips against lips.
A kiss so careful
she could have denied it happened.
She didn't.
She kissed him back.
Tentative.
Fragile.
Dangerous.
When they parted,
Grayfia's voice was barely audible.
"I should have stopped that."
"You didn't."
"I should push you away."
"You won't."
Her eyes glistened.
"…Why not?"
Riser lowered his forehead against hers again.
"Because you've finally allowed yourself
to want something
without guilt."
She shuddered.
He cupped her jaw with both hands,
thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.
"Grayfia," he whispered,
"I swear to every devil alive—
I will never make you regret that step."
Her voice broke.
"…I already do."
But she didn't step back.
She didn't run.
She stayed pressed to him,
breathing the same air,
letting his hands cradle her face
with a tenderness she had forgotten she deserved.
And Riser—
—waited.
Because he knew the next step
had to be hers.
Grayfia didn't know how long they stayed like that.
Foreheads touching.
Breaths mingling.
Her hands resting against his chest, trembling with every inhale.
Time felt suspended — as though the fake world around them, the one Riser had built, had silently folded itself away to leave only the two of them standing in a quiet, fragile space between choices.
Finally, Grayfia spoke.
A whisper.
"…I can hear your heartbeat."
He swallowed.
"You always could."
"It's… steadier than I thought."
"You steady it."
That sentence hit her harder than any thrust, any kiss, any cruel remark he had ever offered.
She looked up sharply — but Riser's expression was painfully open.
No mockery.
No smugness.
Just sincerity, raw and unguarded, like he hadn't realized he had let it slip.
Grayfia exhaled shakily.
"Don't say things like that… It makes this too real."
"It is real," he murmured.
"For me, it always has been."
She closed her eyes.
"Riser… this isn't love."
"I know."
"And it isn't hate."
"I know that too."
"And it isn't… sanity."
He actually laughed — soft, breathless, aching.
"Then let it be madness we share."
She shook her head, but her hands clutched his shirt tighter.
"You're dangerous."
"I have never lied about that."
"And I should run."
"You should."
"But I'm not."
"No," he whispered, "you're not."
Her lips parted.
Just barely.
"…Why aren't you kissing me again?"
Riser froze.
Slowly — painfully slowly — he lifted one hand from her cheek and traced the line of her jaw with the back of his knuckles.
"Because," he said quietly, "I want you to choose it."
Her pulse hammered.
"You're cruel," she breathed.
"Only when I need to be."
"And now?"
"Now," he whispered, "I'm giving you something no one else ever has."
She stared at him.
"…What?"
"A moment where your desire matters more than my own."
Grayfia's breath caught.
"I don't… I don't know what I want."
"Yes," he murmured, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"You do."
She hated that he was right.
Hated that he could read her this clearly.
Hated how her body leaned into him with an instinct older than reason.
Hated that this felt like falling into something inevitable.
Her voice trembled.
"If I kiss you… I won't be able to take it back."
His thumb stroked her cheek.
"I won't ask you to."
She inhaled.
Exhaled.
And then — finally — she rose onto her toes.
Just enough.
The faintest shift.
A tilt of her head.
A breath shared.
And she kissed him.
Not like an enemy.
Not like a captive.
Not like a woman driven to madness.
But like someone finally letting go.
Riser shuddered as if struck.
His hands slid to her waist, gentle, steady, grounding.
The kiss deepened.
Grayfia's heartbeat stuttered.
His breath hitched.
Their lips moved in slow, deliberate rhythm — tasting, learning, conceding.
When they parted, Grayfia was panting softly.
"This is wrong," she whispered.
"I know."
"And we shouldn't…"
"Then stop."
She couldn't.
Her head dipped forward until her forehead pressed into his chest, hiding her face.
"…Hold me."
He didn't hesitate.
Riser wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground, pulling her completely into his warmth.
The embrace was crushing and tender, protective and possessive, frightening and comforting all at once.
Grayfia's voice was barely audible.
"I can't go back like this."
"You don't have to."
"I have to try."
"I know."
She trembled.
"And if I fail?"
Riser kissed the top of her head.
"Then I will be here."
Her breath caught.
"…You want me to come back."
"I want you," he said simply.
"In any form, in any world, in any time you choose me."
Her hands fisted into his shirt.
"You're not supposed to say things like that."
"I'm not supposed to feel them."
Grayfia looked up, eyes glistening.
"Then what am I supposed to do with all of this?
This… this chaos you've turned my life into?"
Riser touched her cheek again, thumb brushing slowly along her skin with devastating gentleness.
"Live it."
Her voice cracked.
"And if it destroys everything?"
"Then let it."
"…Even me?"
His expression softened into something unbearably sincere.
"Especially you."
Grayfia's breath shook.
"You're insane."
"I fell in love with a married woman," he murmured.
"I think the diagnosis is already confirmed."
She froze.
"…What did you say?"
He smiled — small, helpless, tragic.
"Nothing I expect you to return."
Grayfia's heart lurched in her chest.
"Riser…"
"You don't have to say it back," he whispered.
"You don't owe me anything.
But I will never deny the truth."
Her lips parted soundlessly.
He leaned forward, voice a bare breath.
"You asked what to do with this chaos?"
She nodded shakily.
"Let it ruin you," he murmured.
"Let it set you free."
The world around them seemed to dim.
Or maybe that was just her breath catching in her throat.
She didn't know.
All she knew was that her body moved again before her mind could catch up —
throwing her arms around his neck,
pulling his mouth to hers,
kissing him with a kind of desperation that made his knees buckle.
Riser caught her, one arm under her thighs, the other supporting her back, lifting her effortlessly as she wrapped around him.
She gasped against his lips.
He groaned into hers.
And Grayfia realized, with a terrifying, exhilarating certainty:
She wasn't falling anymore.
She had already fallen.
Riser carried her without breaking the kiss, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers tangled in his hair. Grayfia clung to him as if the contact itself were oxygen — as if pulling away would make her collapse into pieces.
He set her down on the bed with a gentleness that contradicted everything she knew about him. His hands traced the outline of her waist, her ribs, her breasts — not to claim, not to brand, but to memorize.
Grayfia's breath hitched.
"…You're trembling," she whispered.
"So are you."
His forehead lowered to hers again.
Their breaths mingled — hot, uneven, intoxicated.
"Riser…"
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
"I can't."
He kissed her again — slower, deeper.
Her back arched, breasts rising to meet his touch, nipples stiffening under the cool air and the overwhelming heat of his mouth. His tongue traced circles around them, soft at first, then firmer, sucking just hard enough to make her moan.
Grayfia's fingers dug into his shoulders.
"Riser— ah—"
"You taste better every time."
His voice was thick with hunger.
"And you know exactly what you're doing to me."
She did.
Her body reacted to him with frightening ease — a need that went beyond reason, beyond loyalty, beyond anything she had ever felt with her husband. Her hips rolled instinctively upward, brushing against his hardened length, and Riser groaned.
His self-control snapped.
He hooked an arm behind her back, lifting her slightly as he guided himself to her entrance — slick, swollen, desperate.
Grayfia gasped.
"Wait—"
But he paused.
Absolutely still.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked softly.
Her answer came out as a whisper she hated herself for:
"…No."
Riser's eyes darkened.
"Then say it properly."
Grayfia swallowed.
"I want… you inside me."
He pushed in — slowly, agonizingly, inch by inch — stretching her open around him. Her breath stuttered as her body accepted him, recognizing him, molding to him like he had always belonged there.
"Gods…" Riser hissed.
"You're gripping me like you missed me."
"I didn't— aaah—!"
He filled her completely, pressing deep until she felt his warmth against her cervix, that maddening pressure that made her toes curl.
"Grayfia," he whispered against her ear, "I love how you open for me."
"Don't— say that—"
"But it's true."
His hips began to move.
Slow, deliberate thrusts that dragged every nerve to the edge of overload. Grayfia tried to hide her face, but he caught her chin gently, forcing her to look at him.
"Don't turn away," he murmured.
"Look at me when I'm inside you."
Her breath trembled.
"Riser…"
"You feel incredible."
He kissed her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
"Every time I'm in you, you get tighter. Wetter."
He thrust deeper.
Grayfia's cry tore from her throat.
"Ah—! Riser—!"
"You can try to lie to your mind," he growled, pace quickening, "but your body doesn't lie."
Her nails raked down his back.
"Stop— saying— things like that—!"
"Why?" He slammed into her — hard, perfect, devastating.
"Because you know I'm right?"
Her walls clenched violently around him, and he shuddered.
"You're close," he breathed.
She shook her head desperately.
"No— I'm not—"
"You are. You always try to deny it right before you break."
He shifted his angle — precisely, knowingly —
and Grayfia screamed.
Her vision went white.
Her body convulsed.
Her climax hit so hard her legs spasmed around him, heels digging into his back, hips lifting off the bed as she came undone beneath him.
Riser held her through it, thrusting slowly, deeply, dragging the orgasm out until she nearly sobbed from overstimulation.
"That's it," he whispered, kissing the tears from her cheeks.
"That's my beautiful Grayfia."
Her breathing was ragged.
"I… I can't… think—"
"You don't need to," he murmured, sliding in and out of her soaked heat.
"Not now."
He pulled her thighs up, folding her into a position that made her completely vulnerable to him. Grayfia gasped as his length sank even deeper, hitting a place inside her that made her spine jolt.
"Riser—! Not there— I'll—"
"You'll come again."
He kissed her.
"And again. And again."
Her voice broke.
"Please—!"
He thrust harder.
Her body shuddered uncontrollably.
Pleasure coiled like a vice in her abdomen.
She grabbed at him without thinking.
"I'm— I'm gonna—!"
"Let go," he groaned, voice cracking.
"I'm right here. Let me feel you."
His pace became brutal — the raw, consuming force of a man who had held back for too long.
Grayfia's scream tore from her throat as another orgasm ripped through her.
Her inner walls spasmed violently around him, milking him, dragging him into her deepest place.
Riser snarled, losing the last threads of control.
"Grayfia—! I'm—"
She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in.
"Inside," she begged, dazed, ruined.
"Cum inside— please—!"
His climax hit him like a lightning strike.
Riser's body locked, then jerked as he spilled into her — hot, thick, overwhelming.
Pulse after pulse of his release flooded her womb until she whimpered from the heat and pressure of it.
He collapsed against her, panting hard, forehead pressed to her shoulder.
They stayed like that — intertwined, trembling, breathless.
Grayfia's voice finally came, small and broken:
"…Why does this feel like home?"
Riser lifted his head.
His expression was raw.
Honest.
"Because part of you," he whispered, brushing her hair back,
"has always belonged to me."
Grayfia closed her eyes, as if the truth itself hurt.
And yet — she didn't deny it.
Not this time.
Grayfia lay beneath him, chest rising and falling with shallow, unsteady breaths. Riser didn't pull out — he stayed inside her, still hard enough that each tiny movement sent another shiver through her body. Their sweat mixed. Their hearts beat against each other. The room was quiet except for the uneven sound of their breathing and the faint creak of the mattress.
"Grayfia…" he murmured, brushing his thumb gently along her bruised, kiss-swollen lower lip.
She turned her face slightly away — not fully, just enough to hide the expression she couldn't control.
"Don't," she whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't look at me like that."
Riser tilted her chin back toward him.
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like I'm yours."
His fingers tightened on her waist.
"You are."
She shivered.
"You can't say that."
"I can," he corrected softly, "and I just did."
Her breath hitched as he shifted deeper inside her.
A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her throat.
Riser smirked faintly.
"You feel me everywhere right now, don't you?"
Grayfia's face burned.
"Stop… talking…"
"Why?" he whispered, lowering his lips to her ear.
"Does the truth make you tremble like this?"
She arched under him as he slowly rolled his hips, letting his still-sensitive length drag through her overstimulated walls. The sensation made her legs twitch uncontrollably.
"Riser— please— I can't—"
"You can," he murmured, trailing kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat.
"And you will."
Her hands slid weakly up his back — not to push him away, but to anchor herself.
"Don't make me fall any further," she begged softly.
Riser froze.
Then lifted himself slightly, looking down at her — truly looking.
"You already have."
Her eyes widened.
"And so have I."
He said it so simply.
So plainly.
Like a confession he had been carrying for far too long.
Grayfia swallowed hard.
"This wasn't supposed to happen."
"No," he agreed.
"But it did."
"And what happens now?" she asked, breath trembling.
Riser lowered his forehead to hers.
"Now," he said softly, "you decide."
Grayfia's fingers curled into the sheets.
"I can't decide anything like this— you're still inside me—"
"That's exactly why you should decide."
His voice lowered.
"Because this is the moment where you don't lie to yourself."
Her throat tightened.
"You're manipulating me."
"Yes," he answered honestly.
"But not with force."
"…Then with what?"
"With the truth."
She shook her head — or tried to.
Riser caught her cheek gently.
"You love your husband."
Grayfia's breath stilled.
"Yes," she whispered.
"And your son."
"Yes."
"And you don't want to lose them."
Her eyes stung.
"I don't."
Riser leaned down and kissed the space just beneath her eye — where a tear would have fallen.
"I know."
"Then why—"
Her voice cracked.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
He inhaled deeply, as though steadying himself.
"Because you deserve more than duty," he said quietly.
"And because I can't let go of you."
Grayfia's chest tightened painfully.
"Why me?"
He answered instantly.
"Because you look at me like I'm real."
She froze.
"Everyone else sees the Phoenix heir," he continued.
"The arrogant noble. The undefeatable devil. The monster."
His hand slid up to cradle her face.
"But you… you see the man underneath."
Grayfia exhaled shakily.
"That isn't fair."
"No," he said, brushing her hair back, "it isn't."
She blinked up at him.
"What am I to you?" she asked, voice barely more than breath.
Riser lowered his lips to hers — not kissing, just close enough that she could feel every unspoken word.
"You are the one thing I chose for myself."
Her heart twisted violently.
"I don't want to be something you take."
"Then don't be."
His tone softened.
"Be something I'm allowed to hold."
Her eyes fluttered.
"That sounds… worse."
Riser finally leaned in and kissed her — slow, lingering, almost heartbreakingly tender.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead to hers again.
"Leave," he whispered, surprising her.
"When you're ready. Leave. Go back to your husband. Your child. Your world."
Grayfia's breath hitched.
"Why are you—"
"Because if you stay now," he murmured, "you'll think it was weakness."
Her hands trembled against his back.
"And if I come back?"
His voice broke on the answer.
"Then it won't be weakness," he whispered.
"It will be choice."
Grayfia stared at him — really stared — searching his eyes for deception, cruelty, or manipulation. She found none.
Just a man who wanted her
far too much
and far too honestly.
Her voice finally came.
"…Help me up."
He slid out of her slowly, carefully — and she gasped at the sudden emptiness, the heat of his release spilling from her thighs. He steadied her as she rose, legs wobbling, body still trembling from everything they'd done.
She stood before him — half-dressed, marked, bruised with his kisses, her silver hair a tangled cascade down her back.
Riser looked at her like she was something holy.
Grayfia swallowed.
"I will… return to the estate," she said softly.
"Just for tonight."
He nodded, expression unreadable.
"I won't stop you."
She hesitated.
Then reached up — fingers brushing his cheek, just once, trembling.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For letting me choose."
Riser caught her hand, kissed her wrist, then released her.
"Go," he murmured.
"Before I ask you to stay."
Grayfia's breath caught.
She turned away.
Took one step.
Then two.
At the doorway, she paused.
She didn't look back — but her voice, quiet and raw, carried through the room.
"…Don't disappear."
Riser's answer was immediate.
"I couldn't," he said softly, "even if I tried."
Grayfia exhaled shakily…
…and walked out.
Leaving Riser standing alone, chest rising slowly with a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
The world outside waited.
The choice — truly, finally — would be hers.