Currently, I am in my living room.
On my knees.
Directly in front of Akeno, who was still wearing her bathrobe, the fabric was clinging lightly to her damp skin from her shower earlier.
Strands of dark hair stuck to her cheeks, and tiny droplets of water glimmered along her neck and shoulders, reflecting the light just enough to make the situation look… far more intimate than it really was.
How did I even end up here?
Simple.
Blackmail.
That cursed video she somehow managed to get her hands on had given her complete leverage over me.
And somehow, she had decided that this living room was the perfect place for her latest scheme.
Though I still didn't understand why she had taken her shower here in my home.
Now, she was making me do one of her… let's call them degenerate orders.
"Moans~ Yes, Zevion, right there! That's the spot! More, right there!"
Her voice was soft, breathy, and full of exaggeration, punctuated by little moans that echoed faintly against the walls.
What was I doing, you ask?
She had told me to massage her feet.
Just her feet.
And calves.
That's it.
Nothing else.
I was kneeling to reach the right angle, my hands moving carefully along the arches of her feet and the muscles of her calves, pressing just enough to relieve tension.
…What? You thought it was something naughty?
Perverts, seriously...
Though, looking at the bathrobe, the wet hair, and the way she kept letting out those little "guiding" noises… yeah.
Okay, maybe it was a little naughty.
Just a little.
And of course, my brain refused to stop overthinking it, imagining what it might be like if I did the real deed instead.
Anyway, time for my weekly updates.
It had been a week since the Rating Games events, and as promised, I had put all fifteen of my maids to work.
Hard.
Relentlessly.
Without a hint of mercy.
I had given them countless jobs to do—more than anyone should reasonably expect.
Cleaning, cooking, organizing… and of course, all of my novels.
Every single story idea, every rough draft, was now in their capable hands.
The good news?
With their help, I was finally able to expand my creative empire.
Manga adaptations? Check.
Anime scripts? Check.
Storyboards, character designs, and illustrations—all handled efficiently while I barely lifted a finger.
Anything I imagined, they turned into finished work, polished and ready to go.
Of course, I didn't pay them a single yen.
Not one.
They did all the work, and I earned all the cash.
Every bit of fame, every bit of success, flowed directly into my pockets.
Delicious.
And yet… they were smarter than I thought.
Brilliant, even.
Smarter than me, at least.
They could write better than I could, craft stories better than I ever imagined.
That was exactly why I put them to use.
Give them just a short overview, a rough sketch of an idea, and somehow, magically, they created something even better than what I could have done on my own.
It was… almost too easy.
Watching them bring my stories to life, knowing I took all the credit and all the profit, made me feel a strange, guilty sort of thrill—but guilt had no place here.
Only cash mattered.
As long as they stayed obedient, diligent, and blissfully aware of how thoroughly I was exploiting their talent…
I would continue to reap the rewards, one perfect novel, manga, and anime adaptation at a time.
Well, at least life had been peaceful these days.
No sudden battles, no annoying interruptions, just… quiet.
A rare blessing, really.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on my smartphone.
The little ping caught my attention immediately.
I got up from kneeling in front of her and checked it, curiosity tugging at me.
Turns out, one of my "works" from the original world—the ones I had so shamelessly copy-pasted into this one—had won an award.
An actual award.
Apparently, it had gathered enough recognition that I was now formally invited to an award ceremony in England.
England, of all places.
I scratched my cheek, half-amused, half-bothered.
"Huh. Guess I've gotta plan a trip."
Not that it would take long.
It wasn't like I was disappearing for weeks on end.
Realistically, I'd spend a day or two there at most, make my appearance, collect whatever shiny trophy they wanted to hand me, tour here and there, and then head straight back here.
Just another errand, really.
Still… it was kind of funny.
I was getting rewarded for someone else's hard work.
Suddenly, Akeno slipped up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
"Ara~ Where are you planning to go now?"
She purred, her breath warm against the back of my neck.
My brain blanked for a full second.
Every sensible thought evaporated.
Steam curled around us, and through the damp bathrobe, I could feel the gentle press of her chest against me.
It was a disorienting, delicious sort of wrong.
My senses betrayed me—sight blurred, heart raced, and my palms went oddly clammy.
Damn her.
I'd sworn I'd be more careful.
I'd sworn I'd stop giving her any excuse.
But she always had this way of turning my plans inside out.
She was a contradiction I still couldn't figure out: sadistic in how she toyed with me, masochistic in how she secretly enjoyed being pushed—both at the same time.
The more I tried to get revenge on her, the more I ended up fueling whatever strange thrill she got from it.
Sigh.
This girl was hopeless.
Though in a way, she got both formidable offense and defense.
"Just a short trip," I managed to say, forcing my voice steady.
"A day or two at most, excluding the travelling time. England—award ceremony. I'll be back before you know it."
Her arms tightened for a second, a small, amused hum drifting from her.
"Make sure you come back to me, Zevion~."
Yeah.
No pressure.
While I was still plotting ways not to end up Akeno's plaything, the doorbell rang.
Who on earth could that be now?
Rias and Sona were out doing their supernatural business.
Koneko and Asia had gone shopping.
The others were off doing whatever errands they always seemed to have.
The house felt strangely empty for once—except for the maids working in a few rooms and the lingering steam from Akeno's damp robe.
I glanced back at her, then hesitated.
"Stay here," I muttered, trying to sound decisive as I left her lounging on the couch, one brow raised in amusement.
Careful not to give her any more excuse to cling to me, I crossed the hall and opened the front door.
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