Five Years Later
The world had changed, reshaped by the influence of a single man. Five years had passed since Nine first stepped into power, and in that time, his reach had spread like wildfire.
The Red Inferno District—his creation—was now infamous across the lands, a kingdom of indulgence where pleasure and secrecy reigned. Brothels, gambling dens, opium houses—every imaginable vice thrived here, unrestricted by class. Nobles and commoners alike roamed its streets, each pursuing their own desires under the flickering glow of crimson lanterns.
Yet, beyond the allure of revelry, the true heart of the district lay in the Black Market Pagoda. A grand structure standing at its center, veiled in perpetual twilight, where masked figures from every corner of the continent gathered. Orthodox and unorthodox sects, assassins' guilds, mercenary bands, corrupt officials, and exiled royals—all walked its halls under hidden identities. Secrets were currency, conspiracies were whispered between sips of stolen wine, and the weight of unseen deals shaped the fate of empires.
But the district had one rule.
A single, unshakable law.
No killing.
A ridiculous command in a place steeped in danger, where malice oozed from every shadow. And yet, no one dared break it.
Because of him.
Because of the Lord of Lust.
A known mad dog—mad because he never took things seriously, dog because he behaved like one. Or so they said. His erratic whims made him unpredictable, but his network of connections was vast, a web so entangled that even the most reckless hesitated before challenging him. And if that weren't enough, he was friends—debatably—with the Lord of Sloth.
Nine gritted his teeth at the thought.
Or rather, Sloth was just someone he knew.
The other Lords?
The last war between Wrath and Pride had obliterated the Athanasios Kingdom, a key pillar of continental stability. The aftermath forced them into an uneasy peace, a treaty of necessity rather than trust. Yet despite this armistice, many still sought to kill Nine.
But they failed.
No matter what they did, he wouldn't die.
It was Envy who perished instead—devoured by Gluttony, leaving behind the body of a little girl. In her place, a new Lord of Envy emerged—a young woman, cold and enigmatic. And with that death, a chilling realization settled among the Lords.
Perhaps, they too were not beyond death's reach.
Pride had been quiet ever since.
---
Seven and Syras were inseparable, two shadows darting through the palace halls, their laughter echoing under the watchful eye of Colla. Ever-vigilant, the guardian never wavered, her blade always poised for an unseen threat. Attacks were inevitable—Nine had made too many enemies. But none would touch his sons, not while Colla lived.
And Aya?
She was—
"Nine…"
Aya's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She slouched on the throne—no, the wide sofa he had replaced it with after she claimed it as her own. Her delicate fingers traced the fabric idly, her expression weary.
Nine, in the middle of his one-armed push-ups, glanced up. Sweat slicked his bare torso, muscles taut from hours of exertion. He was shirtless—again.
"I want to visit the district," Aya said, sighing. "It's been seven months since I last left, and I didn't even get far."
Nine didn't stop, shifting into sit-ups instead. "They can't kill me, so all eyes are on you and the boys. I have to be careful."
Aya exhaled sharply, stretching out on the sofa. She could hold her own—she could even hurt a Lord. But she wasn't one. Not truly. And their sons? Still too young to fend for themselves.
Nine loomed over her suddenly, blocking her view of the ceiling.
The essence reacted instantly.
A shiver ran through her as heat pooled low in her belly, a tremor of power—of need—coiling inside her. The essence of Lust pulsed between them, an undeniable force. Aya bit her lip.
"I told you not to come near me during the day," she muttered, though her cheeks had already flushed.
Nine frowned, as if she had just spoken nonsense. "I can't do that."
Aya tried to articulate a response, but the words tangled in frustration. In the end, she turned away, forcing herself to control her breathing.
"I'll have Honu watch the kids tomorrow. I'll escort you."
She bolted upright, eyes wide. "Really?!"
Nine raised a brow, lips curving into an amused smirk. He tilted his head, the picture of lazy mischief.
"Well? No reward?" He leaned down, his breath warm against her lips, parting them just slightly—
Aya shoved his face away. "Not with all that sweat."
She moved to stand, brushing against his groin intentionally as she darted past him.
Nine stilled.
Veins pulsed at his temple as his restraint frayed, his crotch already hardening beneath his robe.
Aya shrieked as he caught her.
And, well—
You already know what happened next.
---
The palace of Lust was unlike the others. Where the domains of the other Lords bore an oppressive air of authority or darkness, Nine's was warm. Alive. Love and laughter wove through its halls, wrapping around its inhabitants like an embrace. The servants here were the most at peace, untouched by the cruelty that reigned beyond these walls.
Yet amidst the warmth, shadows still lurked.
Colla remained in the background, ever watchful—a silent crow perched in the flowery expanse of the palace gardens.
And Shin?
He was as composed as ever, his polite smile unwavering, his fox-like eyes ever cunning. But he had long abandoned his pursuit of Nine's past. Some mysteries were better left unsolved.
For now, the success of the district kept him occupied, drowning him in financial ledgers and endless transactions. The Red Inferno District thrived, and with it, the legend of the Lord of Lust only grew.
But legends had a way of drawing attention.
And not all attention was welcome.