Inside the narrow carriage, the pink glow swirled in languid waves, the air thick with ambiguity.

The girl straddling his lap twisted her waist like a water serpent, her perfect form rubbing ceaselessly against Muen’s most sensitive places. Fragrance drifted, seizing the mind, and the pale skin revealed beneath her loosened clothes kept jolting at his nerves.

It should have been a sublime moment—any man would be parched, heart pounding, blood burning, eager to plunge headlong into a sea of desire.

But at this instant, Muen felt no excitement at all. Only the ringing alarm of death throbbing in his skull, warning him of the miserable fate of being squeezed dry.

After all, he had just been tangled up with another little demoness for hours. Right now, Muen was still deep in sage mode.

Truly—not a single drop left.

“Um... Anne, this isn’t the best time. How about... we do this next time?”

Muen, struggling beneath her kisses and caresses, offered the suggestion with difficulty.

“Why?”

Anne’s breath came quick.

“Doesn’t Young Master like this? Or is it not exciting enough?”

“No, no, it’s exciting. Absolutely exciting. And I like it very much.”

Muen nodded repeatedly, then grimaced:

“But though you can’t tell on the outside, I’m injured right now. My magic and aura are completely drained from the battle, and my stamina is nearly gone. This really isn’t the right time for this kind of thing.”

“Oh, really?”

Anne finally paused, arms looped around his neck, gazing at him with a searching look.

“Is that truly the reason Young Master can’t right now?”

“Of course, of course! Why would I lie to Anne?”

Muen nodded eagerly, eyes pure and sincere like an innocent child.

“I see...”

Anne’s expression softened with regret. “Then there’s no helping it.”

“Phew...”

Watching her slowly slide off of him, Muen finally let out a breath of relief.

Looked like his life was spared.

Senior plus Anne... that really was too much to bear.

Not that Muen was lacking—he prided himself that in this area, he was quite capable. The girls he’d been with had all been easily sent soaring several times in one go. But these girls of his... they couldn’t be judged by normal logic!

And, as he’d said, his body was genuinely depleted. A pitched battle against a succubus-like fiend, then facing down the oppressive weight of an Evil God—his hidden injuries and exhaustion weren’t easily patched up.

Otherwise, he would absolutely have to properly discipline this wicked maid who liked to tease her master!

Muen swore to himself: he’d train properly from now on. Even if he couldn’t achieve peerless martial prowess, at the very least he needed a pair of indestructible kidneys!

“Sorry, Anne. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Muen spoke apologetically.

Because Senior had come first, he couldn’t go through with it with Anne. It left him feeling almost guilty.

“Mm? Why does Young Master have to apologize? And why wait until later to make it up? Can’t you do it now?”

Anne tilted her head, puzzled.

“Because...”

Muen started to explain, then froze.

Now?

What did that mean?

Confused, he suddenly saw Anne smile beautifully, and pull out—he didn’t know from where—a thermal container.

As the lid opened, steam rose, and a strange smell began to fill the carriage.

“T-this is...”

Staring at the dark soup he vaguely recognized, Muen’s voice trembled.

“Knowing Young Master’s nature, I guessed something like this might happen, so I prepared ahead of time.”

Anne poured the soup into a small bowl, her tone as gentle as a wife sobering up her drunken husband.

But the meaning behind her words chilled Muen. Memories he thought buried came clawing back, gnawing at him.

“Is Young Master happy? This is my special Perfect Ten Nourishment Soup. And this time I made an enhanced version. I even procured that precious dragon’s... ingredient... through the Ducal Estate’s channels.”

Perfect Ten Nourishment Soup!

Of course it was that cursed thing!

Muen’s eyes flew wide, his head snapping around. “I’m not drinking that!”

“Young Master is still so dishonest. You enjoyed it so much last time.”

“That was because you forced me!”

“Was it?”

Anne touched her cheek in mock trouble, sighing:

“But now I can’t bear to force Young Master anymore. I’ll just have to use... special methods.”

“Special methods?”

Muen blanched.

“What special methods?”

“Why, of course... to personally feed the medicine to my sulky little Young Master.”

Anne’s bright red lips glistened as she licked them, the flush on her face deepening.

She lowered her head, sipped a mouthful of the soup, and murmured with a blush:

“Here. Young Master, drink your medicine.”

...

...

After that scandalously intimate “feeding,” Muen lay on the sofa with dead-fish eyes, silently digesting the potion.

This time, Anne’s Perfect Ten Nourishment Soup wasn’t simply that. Whatever rare ingredients she had added, the energy within was astonishing.

As soon as it entered his stomach, his dried-up magic and aura began refilling rapidly. The Withering King’s flame burned again, working to mend his hidden wounds with an effectiveness far beyond any ordinary potion.

Within minutes, the pallor on his face had vanished, replaced by a healthy flush. His lips, especially, turned a vivid red.

And yet, Muen felt as if he had lost something vital.

“Seems it worked well.”

Anne studied him carefully, smiling in satisfaction.

Then she twisted her body against his again, voice low:

“Can we continue now, Young Master?”

Muen gave her a side-eye, dead-fish gaze, saying nothing.

Though his stamina had indeed been restored, sage mode was still sage mode. His heart was empty, his thoughts clean. Even if she had just bullied him mercilessly, he had no wicked urges left. What could she do to him now?

“Sigh, such a pity. Since then, I resolved never to drug Young Master again. Otherwise this would have been much easier.”

Anne sighed, then smiled slyly. “Since that’s the case, I’ll just have to use my own way.”

She loosened his clothes, her soft tongue circling over his chest.

Muen scoffed inwardly, disdainful.

Is that all? I’m not who I used to be. Little tricks like this—

But before his thought could finish, he saw her lick her way downward.

Downward.

And further down—

Until, in Muen’s eyes, widening like copper bells, Anne lowered her refined head, lips parting...

“Hiss—!” Muen sucked in a breath so sharp [N O V E L I G H T] it nearly caused global warming.

The contrast was brutal—Anne’s elegant, dignified face framed by her falling hair, paired with the utterly indecent act she was now doing with complete seriousness.

It smashed into Muen’s nerves like a hammer blow.

Sage mode shattered in an instant.

“Mmm...”

Pausing at his sudden reaction, Anne glanced up, cheeks flushed, pouting coquettishly:

“Young Master is so bad... it’s too big... I can’t fit it all in...”