At first, everyone in the chat group thought the livestream was about to end. The danger had passed, the tension had eased—yet the screen stubbornly remained open. Then the images shifted, and things began to take a far stranger turn.
Stella: "H-Hey! Wait—what the hell is this?!"
Back in her dorm at Hagun Academy, Stella Vermillion was covering her eyes with both hands, her face burning red. Her whole body flushed as if she had swallowed fire, and she could barely keep herself from shrieking.
Mai: "..."
Megumi: "..."
In Haruto's home, Sakurajima Mai and Kato Megumi were no better off. Both girls had their faces buried in pillows, hearts hammering.
Stella: "Is he seriously streaming this?! This is indecent!"
Frieren: "Mmm. So that's what this is."
Stella: "What do you mean, 'that's what this is'?! Stop looking, you weird elf!"
Frieren: "Why? It's just human… research. A study in anatomy. Interesting, actually. I didn't know that was possible."
Frieren: "Saeko, could you explain the sensations? For reference."
Saeko: "...You're incorrigible."
Stella nearly tore her hair out. "No! Absolutely not! No one is allowed to describe anything! Everyone just shut up and pretend this isn't happening!"
The group fell silent. Yet the livestream didn't.
> [Livestream]: 6 people watching.
Stella curled up on her bed, wishing the images would stop flooding directly into her mind. Covering her eyes was useless; she could see everything regardless.
"Why… why does it have to escalate like this?!" she muttered, her thoughts racing in panic. "If I… if I ended up like Ayame Yomogawa…"
Her chest tightened. She shook her head violently. No! Never. That will never be me.
Just then, something pricked her senses. She glanced toward her dorm window—only to see a pair of unfamiliar eyes peering in through the glass.
Her face darkened.
"A peeping tom? At this time?!"
The man in the tree panicked. "W-Wait, this is a misunderstanding—"
Boom!
Before he could finish, a pillar of fire erupted, blasting the tree to cinders.
Stella clenched her fists, cheeks blazing hotter. "Men are all scum!" she hissed, though her gaze flicked—unwilling, unwilling—back toward the livestream.
The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm, golden light over the room. Haruto and Ayame lay entwined on the bed, their bodies pressed close, their breaths mingling in the quiet space. The air was thick with anticipation and desire, a palpable tension that had been building between them for what felt like an eternity.
Ayame's heart raced as she looked up at Haruto, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch gentle and tentative. "Haruto sama," she whispered, her voice barely audible, a soft, breathless plea. "I... I'm ready."
Haruto's eyes softened, his gaze filled with a mix of tenderness and hunger. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a soft, gentle kiss, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to form in the corners of her eyes. "Ayame," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "I'll be gentle. I promise."
She nodded, her breath hitching as he trailed kisses down her neck, his hands exploring her body, his touch both tender and demanding. He took his time, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse, his lips following the path of his hands, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Ayame gasped as he cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening beneath his touch. He leaned down, his mouth capturing one nipple, his tongue swirling and teasing, drawing a moan from her lips. She arched her back, pressing herself against him, her body responding to his touch with a hunger that matched his own.
Haruto's hands moved lower, his fingers deftly unraveling her lower dress, his touch gentle yet insistent. He pulled them down, his eyes never leaving hers, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and adoration. He settled between her thighs, his body pressing against hers, his erection hard and insistent against her stomach.
Ayame's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he positioned himself at her entrance, his fingers gentle as he teased her folds, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting, her voice a soft, breathless whisper. "Haruto sama, please. I need you."
He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, his body pressing against hers. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed into her, his cock sliding into her tight, virgin heat. She gasped, her body tensing, her nails digging into his back as she adjusted to the sensation of him filling her.
Haruto paused, giving her time to adjust, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and desire, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Are you okay, Ayame?"
She nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her voice a soft, breathless whisper. "Yes, Haruto sama. Please, don't stop."
He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of her, the sensation overwhelming and intense. Ayame moaned, her body moving in sync with his, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts, her nails digging into his back, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
Haruto's hands roamed her body, his touch gentle and demanding, his fingers teasing her nipples, his thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing and circling, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing, her inner muscles clenching around him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Haruto sama," she gasped, her voice a pleading moan. "I'm close. Please, don't stop."
He increased his pace, his hips moving faster, his thrusts deeper, his body pressing against hers, his breath hot on her ear. "Come for me, Ayame," he whispered, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Let me feel you come."
With a final, deep thrust, he sent her over the edge, her body convulsing, her inner muscles clenching around him, her orgasm ripping through her, a wave of pleasure and release that left her breathless and sated. He followed soon after, his cock pulsing as he came, his release hot and intense, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm.
As they came down from their high, Haruto rolled off her, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close, his body pressing against hers, his breath hot on her neck. Ayame snuggled against him, her body sated and content, her eyes fluttering closed, a soft, satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"Haruto sama," she murmured, her voice a soft, sleepy whisper. "Thank you. That was... amazing."
He chuckled, a low, satisfied sound, his arms tightening around her, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "The pleasure was all mine, Ayame. All mine."
"But, we are not done yet Ayame."
Afterwards,
Afterwards,
In the swaying carriage, Haruto's hand traced slowly along Ayame Yomogawa's thigh. The girl's breath was uneven, her delicate body trembling under his touch. But then… he stilled.
Ayame blinked, startled. "H-Haruto-sama?" Her voice was soft, shy, filled with nervous anticipation.
Haruto tilted his head slightly, as though catching a sound beyond the walls. Then, with a smile that was almost too gentle, he bent down to her ear. His lips grazed the shell, his voice a whisper—warm, intimate, dangerous.
"Ayame," he murmured, "do you remember what I told you before?"
Her heart skipped. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I said I hate it," he breathed, "when people point guns at me."
He raised one hand and gestured toward the carriage door, his smile never fading.
"Right now, that samurai—the one who offended me—is outside. Gun in hand. Trying to break in." His tone was calm, almost playful. But the weight behind it made her shiver. "So, Ayame… what do you think I should do?"
"Kurusu…?!"
Ayame's eyes widened in realization. Her father had always valued Kurusu. He was a strong warrior, loyal, dependable—the kind of man the Kōtetsujō needed in a world this cruel. Her first instinct was to beg for his life. To plead mercy.
But then she met Haruto's gaze.
Those easygoing eyes, which only moments ago had teased and coaxed her, now glowed with an unyielding, possessive light. Cold. Fierce. The eyes of someone who would never share what was his.
Her breath caught in her throat. In that moment, Ayame understood something terrifying and intoxicating—she could never belong to anyone else again. Haruto's possessiveness left her no space to retreat, no space to even want another path.
If she wanted his protection, his warmth, his smile… she had to surrender. Entirely.
Her lips trembled, then firmed with resolve. She took a slow breath, her voice steady but soft.
"Haruto-sama… anyone who dares to offend you… should be sentenced to death."
The cold light in Haruto's gaze softened into satisfaction. He smiled—genuine, proud, pleased.
"Good," he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear once more. "That's my girl."
Then, more quietly, with a playful edge: "Let's make sure he dreams forever."
Ayame shivered, overwhelmed by the strange mixture of dread and exhilaration coursing through her. It was terrifying. It was intoxicating. And it was impossible to resist.
---
Two carriages away, Kurusu roared, struggling against the people trying to restrain him.
"I must see Ayame-sama! She's been deceived!" His face was twisted in rage and desperation.
Before anyone could stop him, a sudden chill swept the air. His breath froze mid-shout, his limbs locking in place. White frost spread across his armor, his skin, his eyelashes.
In seconds, Kurusu's body turned into a statue of ice, frozen in that final expression of defiance—never even realizing he had died.
The onlookers recoiled at the sudden death, but none screamed. Instead, awe spread among them like fire in dry grass.
"It's divine punishment!"
"The god has judged him!"
"Haruto-sama has shown us his will!"
From the shadows, Mumei stared, her lips pressed tightly together. She had seen it clearly—the ice. His power. A force that could take life without hesitation, without effort.
He really was like a god.
And if her brother ever tried to stand against Haruto Amakawa…
Mumei's fists clenched. The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine.