While the Demon King Sharpie sat alone, savoring her meal at a distance, the others gathered around the shared rations.
"Why are there two sets of meals?" Silnia asked, squinting at the luxurious food. "Favoritism?"
"These sweets are too rich. Must be animal fat," said Potty with a grimace. "I can't eat that."
"Snack…" murmured Marina, eyeing the fruit tarts longingly.
Everyone had their own opinion, but they were all directed at the high-quality meal clearly meant for Hernán and Karine.
"I don't know why we got it," Hernán said with a sigh. "But just because my name's on it doesn't mean I'm eating it alone."
Without a word, the warrior pushed both the plain rations and the luxurious food into the center of the table.
"How about just tea for the hero?" Potty teased. "You do love tea."
Saint Marina quietly passed the kettle and a fine porcelain cup to Karine.
Karine nodded in thanks. "It's hard to turn down tea like this."
Then she turned to Hernán, holding out the second cup.
"L. Drink with me."
"Huh?"
He blinked at her. "Sorry. Honestly… I don't have the appetite."
His headache pulsed again, a dull throb deep in his skull. Not unbearable, but enough to dull his senses.
"You're not feeling well?"
"Just… a little pressure in my head."
Karine reached out and pressed a cool hand to his forehead. "You have a fever."
Her fingers lingered as she glanced discreetly at the Demon King, who sat sipping alone in the corner.
That succubus had told him the truth—this wasn't just illness. It was the spell in his head reacting to the lack of ambient mana.
She had said the only solution… was sex.
"No," Hernán said aloud.
"What?"
Karine blinked, confused.
"Nothing," he murmured quickly. "Just talking to myself."
He took the teacup from her hands and forced a sip. The flavor was delicate, the scent calming, but it did little to dull the gnawing pressure inside his skull.
Karine tried to keep the conversation going, gently asking about his symptoms, but when he gave only short answers, she finally turned her attention back to the food.
Hernán sat in silence, cradling the teacup. His mind wandered.
What if we're trapped here longer than expected?
He tried not to think about it—but the headache always brought him back to the same question.
Sharpie had said he might have three or four weeks, at most.
After that, if no magic replenished the energy in his brain, the suppression spell would spiral out of control.
His brain would overload—and he'd die.
It was a ridiculous way to go. Burned alive from the inside, not by flame, but by unfulfilled desire.
Across from him, Potty looked up timidly.
"You're not eating. Should I… share this with you?"
"Hm? No, go ahead."
"You sure? I mean…"
"Eat it," he said. "Who knows how long food will last?"
With a hesitant smile, Potty reached for one of the sweets.
"Forty!"
The hero's voice cracked like a whip.
The wizard froze, the treat falling from her hand.
"You know better than to touch Hernán's food."
"I-it's fine," Hernán said quickly. "I really didn't feel like eating."
Karine, usually so composed, frowned in a rare show of emotion.
"The weaker you feel, the more important it is to eat."
The hero retrieved the dropped cookie and placed it in front of Hernán. Her gaze, however, remained fixed coldly on Potty.
"I-I'm sorry… I really am…"
Potty shrank back, guilt-ridden. Saint Marina offered her a fruit to calm her nerves.
Hernán finally gave in and took the cookie.
Fine. Eat first, think later.
✦
"Damn it…"
Hernán plunged his head into cold water again, trying to drown the heat searing his brain. He was alone in the bathroom, steam rising faintly off his skin.
Karine had touched his forehead that morning and told him he had a fever.
It wasn't just fever. It was inside his head—concentrated, relentless.
Could he really survive four weeks like this?
He shoved his head underwater again.
The bathtub was deep and clean, something you'd only expect in the capital. But none of that mattered now.
All he could think of… were the women.
He surfaced with a gasp.
Karine came to mind. Her silver hair. Her calm, piercing blue eyes.
He'd known her since she was still naïve about where babies came from. Even then, she was beautiful—distant, but radiant.
Now, she was even more stunning.
He didn't just want her. He loved her. That cold elegance made him want to wrap her in warmth. Protect her.
…Claim her.
Hernán sat at the edge of the bath, drenched and trembling.
The suppression spell was real—and dangerous.
But before she becomes queen… before her achievements are recognized, before our marriage is official… I can't touch her.
Still, the temptation was rising.
Magic is rooted in the mind. And even though Hernán didn't know magic theory, he knew this: he needed mental strength to hold out.
I just need more time. A little more patience…
Drying himself off, he dragged his aching body toward Karine's room.
Ten days passed.
Hernán always slept in Karine's bed, and as before, the luxurious meal was served each morning—exclusively for the two of them.
The others shared the plainer rations. The Demon King sat alone.
The initial tension had faded, but the lines were drawn: Sharpie was tolerated, not accepted.
That night, after another dull evening conversation, Hernán collapsed.
"L?!"
Karine caught him before he hit the floor, heart racing.
His skin was burning.
She bit her lip and called for Marina, while the others scrambled to fetch water and cold cloths.
"Could it be illness?" Silnia asked.
"Not a normal one," said Marina.
The Goddess of Mercy was also the Goddess of Healing. Marina, trained in her divine rites, was the closest thing to a doctor they had.
"I suspect magic interference," she said gently. "Start cooling him down while I examine further."
Karine froze when she saw the unmistakable bulge rising in Hernán's pants.
Marina glanced at it with a composed, awkward smile.
"I'll carry him to your room," she said softly.
The heat was no longer just in his head.
It roared like a wildfire through Hernán's body, pulsing with each heartbeat.
This will kill me, he thought.
Not monsters. Not war. But magic—and lust.
"Is there really no other way?" Karine asked, voice low.
"What did you expect from a succubus?" Sharpie replied from across the room, unapologetic.
"Does it have to be that?" Karine's voice was tight. "Does it really have to be sex?"
"Not necessarily. Oral would work. Or anal. Whatever keeps the mana flowing. His brain just needs a release valve."
Hernán hovered on the edge of consciousness, but their voices still reached him.
"You're not touching him," Karine hissed.
"Oh?" Sharpie teased. "Are you going to do it then, princess?"
"I'm his lover!"
"And I'm the one who can cast the bodily magic needed to open the blocked path from his brain to his—"
"Shut your mouth."
"Fine," Sharpie chuckled. "But when he dies because you were too proud to suck him off, don't blame me."
There was silence. Then a bitter sigh.
"Call me when it's over."
Karine's footsteps left the room, the door slamming behind her.
But Hernán only heard one set of footsteps leaving.
His pants were pulled down.
A warm exhale hit his thighs.
"Wow," said Sharpie. "Not even the suppression spell shrank this. That's promising."
"G-go away," Hernán muttered, dazed.
"No can do, patient. Time for treatment."
Her heart-shaped pupils gleamed red as she leaned in and kissed the head of his cock.
Sluuurp.
Each kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with wet sound and obscene affection.
"Does it feel good?" she whispered. "Want more?"
He twitched at her touch. The kisses became faster, sloppier—then turned into full suction.
The soft lips, the warmth, the moist pull—Hernán's senses were completely overwhelmed.
"A-ah!"
"Already?" she teased. "It has been a while, huh?"
She didn't stop. Instead, she wrapped her lips around the tip again and plunged her tongue into the slit, teasing it mercilessly.
His back arched.
"Come on, hero. Let it out."
And he did.
His body shuddered violently as he climaxed, semen erupting with such force it sprayed across her face.
"Mmm…"
Sharpie giggled, licking the thick streams from her cheeks.
"So sweet. Is it because you've been eating so many desserts with your lover?"
She scooped the rest into her mouth with her fingers.
"Or maybe it's because all that love is bottled up inside you…"
Hernán could barely breathe.
"I can feel it," Sharpie said with satisfaction. "Your mana—it's flowing. Your spirit's turning into magic inside me."
Even the tiny bit of mana she could draw from him was enough to stabilize him—for now.
"But why stop here?"
Her voice dropped to a sultry purr.
"Let's continue. For real this time."
The agreement was for oral only. But Sharpie's eyes were now filled with open hunger.
And a succubus that hadn't fed in months… was dangerous.
She stood and slowly stripped off her clothes.
"You've never seen a woman like this, have you?"
Her slender figure, her pale skin, the dark waves of hair falling over her shoulders—she was stunning, even more so under the low light.
"Sorry, Karine," she whispered, not sounding sorry at all.
She straddled him, her bare thighs warm against his hips.
"You know this is the only way to save him. Right?"
Just then, the door creaked.
Someone had been listening. Then quietly left.
Sharpie smiled.
"Well… did they hear?"
Her hips lowered.
"Let's make a baby, shall we?"