"So... I’ve won, haven’t I," Gurellia leaned back against William, her messy wheat-colored curls intertwining with William’s blond hair. Gurellia toyed with William’s blonde ponytail, her cheeks flushed like the evening glow, "You rejected Fannila, and chose me..."

A stomachache contorted William’s face. It had come, nevertheless, one must be honest with the girl one likes.

"No, it’s a ’win-win.’"

"?" Gurellia sat up straight, suddenly filled with energy, she walked in front of William and looked down at him with a puzzled expression. His face bore the crimson tint of strife.

"What do you mean?"

William looked up at the Jade-faced Rakshasa in front of him, feeling forced to painstakingly relay his conversation with Fannila.

Thirty minutes later.

"So, it’s like that, is it?" Gurellia seemed to have her energy sapped away once again, squatting in defeat in front of William.

Her incisors bit into her fingernails, now sharp as blades, as she glared at William, who was sitting obediently.

"That’s basically pity, isn’t it? I was planning on fighting for love in the way of the Demon Race..."

William cut off her rambling.

"It’s not pity! Just as I expressed my affection for you in front of Fannila, both of you are indispensable to me!"

You both are my wings!

That’s roughly what he meant, William said, sweating profusely, only to be met with a coquettish roll of Gurellia’s eyes.

She slowly drew closer, her black blade-like nails moving like exquisite machinery on William’s cheek, shaving off the fine hair standing on his skin. Gurellia’s eyes filled William’s vision, her voice echoing in his mind.

"I really can’t bear it, to think of sharing something I love so much... My dear, just imagining another hand stroking your face like mine makes me want... I really want to tear your skin to shreds."

Just as William thought he was truly going to die, his cheek was already clutched in Gurellia’s embrace.

"Fannila is willing to share you, but I am not, you should belong only to me... all of you, should be only mine..." Gurellia’s grip tightened, and a pressurized flush appeared underneath William’s skin.

"But then, wouldn’t that make me look stingy? If that elf can do it, why can’t I?"

Gurellia released her grip on William, burying her head in his chest and hiding her face within his hair.

"Mother once said..."

[Gurellia, my daughter. If only... you weren’t a Succubus.]

[Those who toy with hearts, in the end, will be toyed with by their own hearts.]

"Mother was right, I have already obtained what I long for. My first love, my William, I shouldn’t be greedy for more."

"But!"

Before William could react, those cherry-red lips were already upon his, thrusting a mix of alcohol and blood’s sweetness into his mouth.

Gurellia’s face bore a mischievous smile, as if everything before had been an act.

"Some firsts, I still have to snatch away, let that elf have the leftovers."

Gurellia grabbed William’s collar, and her skin covered the armor once again, the chilly silhouette emanating from beneath.

"My spouse, you must bear all of my being, whether it’s the Succubus’s Anna, or the War Messenger’s Gurellia."

"You better be prepared, my dear~"

Life is always full of moods, with sweet and warm moments, there are also cold and terrifying times.

But Andrey was a patchwork of horror and even more horror.

Because Liches do not have "life."

Lately, Lyle had been busy with remedial classes, research, and mixed harassment from Mr. Raymond’s organization and the literature society, among others. He had hardly been to the Cup of Luxury himself lately, and most of his trysts with Alianna took place in Naslan Castle, under the watchful eyes of over twenty spectral servants.

The Necromancer Figure Club was doing quite well. In addition to the Spine Wheel, they had manufactured quite a few large flesh-and-bone machines, all still in the testing phase.

Nia’s appetite had grown again, and sometimes during the research phase, she would throw a tantrum for wanting sweets.

Days passed one by one, and today, a small accident occurred.

"Has it finally come?"

In the Necromancer Figure Club’s club room, Lyle opened a black and blue envelope on the table.

A lawyer’s letter from the Ministry of Justice’s Executive Committee, addressed to the president of the Necromancer Figure Club, which was him.

"Has our club finally been caught for illegally modifying the Spine Wheel? I warned those bastards not to add those extra things..."

Lyle had thought that under his leadership, the Necromancer Figure Club would become a proper club, until he saw the Spine Wheel Bunny Version produced by the production line under Shine’s responsibility explode into a fireworks display of scales and sparkles fifty meters off the ground, although the passengers gave good reviews after putting themselves back together.

"Has the Executive Committee finally become restless?" Lyle said, holding the envelope as he stepped out of the club room. "Compromise with the Elder of Law and have him take all those bastards away. After all, I am a law-abiding citizen."

Lyle was quite familiar with the location of the Executive Committee; he had been there before to hand over orders for the Spine Wheel, once visiting the grand committee doors right at the center of Andrey’s fourth floor.

"Still crowded as ever..."

Despite the gate being twenty meters wide, the top was still packed full. Like the horrific and gloomy decorations in the Cannibal Tribe’s village, the committee doors were draped with exposed skeletons. Those were the various lawbreakers who had been caught; their eye sockets burned with soul flames as they conversed normally. Seeing Lyle, they shamelessly saluted him. Although the Committee intended to make a spectacle out of them to deter others, these habitual offenders felt not a trace of guilty remorse; some even continued brawling using their own rib bones.

They wore black wooden plaques on their bodies displaying their crimes. Lyle took a closer look and couldn’t help covering the lenses of his bird beak mask with his hands; about 40 percent of the most shattered skeletons, those with "speeding" signs, were Liches.

They were also the most enthusiastic towards Lyle, obviously customers of the Spine Wheel.

Lyle dodged falling bones and crossed through the gate.

Directly opposite was the committee’s reception desk, which bore a resemblance to the front desk of the Cassandra security office in its design but served a completely different function. This place was called the Holding Area, similar to the area in a supermarket where you leave your personal belongings before entering.

Why the need to leave your personal belongings? Why? Of course, because you’re going to be hung outside the door. Once your punishment is over, you will fall from the gate and then come in to retrieve your personal items and leave.

Behind the Holding Area, there were ten separate pathways leading to different small rooms.

The first room’s sign read Administration; it was the working area for Andrey’s enforcers.

The second room’s sign read Sophistry; that was Andrey’s courtroom... no, the court of law.

The signs of the rooms that followed read Punishment, Punishment, Punishment, Punishment, Punishment, Punishment, and Punishment. These were the Punishment Zones.

Looking at the letter in his hand, Lyle swallowed and headed towards the room behind "Sophistry."