Villain Seduces to Rise in Status

Back in the Elders Hall, the discussions were drawing toward their conclusion when someone abruptly stood.

"I demand to suspend the cadet named Cale Midgar."

The statement hung in the air like a blade.

"Oh... the duke’s kid?" someone murmured.

"What did he even do?" another asked.

"He interfered in a planned duel," the standing council member said flatly.

Marcus sighed deeply, he’d already anticipated this exact moment.

"Do you think I don’t know that fight was planned by that boy named Lark, who coincidentally happens to be your relative?"

"That’s not the point!" the man snapped. "The point is he interfered with it!"

Silvester, lounging in his seat with an infuriating smirk plastered across his face, spoke up lazily.

"And why not tell them the complete story?"

"Complete story?" someone asked, turning toward him.

Silvester nodded slowly, deliberately. "Indeed. That kid didn’t just fight that boy named Lark—he fought several others too. And let me tell you something: no one interfered. Do you know what that means?"

Silence descended as understanding rippled through the council.

If no one had intervened, it meant someone had actively suppressed information about that fight. Someone powerful enough to prevent word from spreading. Which could only mean one thing: Lark’s benefactor had kept it quiet.

The benefactor spoke then, their voice sharp with barely concealed anger.

"So what! He still interrupted! And isn’t he the lowest of the low? This place doesn’t operate on kingdom rules—you all know it. That blonde kid has raised his ranks far too quickly, and my informants have told me he uses something other than the techniques we’ve provided. Isn’t it essentially confirmed he’s a spy?"

Silvester sighed, a sound that somehow managed to convey both amusement and exhaustion simultaneously.

"Well, let’s just say I’ve taken that kid under my guidance. A disciple, I guess? Keke."

The entire council froze.

Every head snapped toward Silvester as if pulled by invisible strings. The implications crashed over them like a wave.

Silvester—known for being so lazy he could barely be bothered to attend these meetings. Silvester, who actively avoided responsibility and human contact whenever possible. Silvester, a man so detached from normal society that he’d never so much as considered taking a wife, let alone a disciple.

And yet here he was, claiming this unknown cadet as his student.

’Damned kid,’ Silvester thought internally, his expression remaining perfectly composed. ’I’m doing all this to save your ungrateful ass, and you haven’t even given me that drink you promised before you left! Wait till I meet you again. Sigh.’

The discussions continued, but the energy had fundamentally shifted. Council members exchanged increasingly shocked glances as Silvester—quite deliberately, it seemed—continued defending Cale with an investment that seemed wildly out of character.

For someone who wouldn’t normally involve himself in academy politics, he was certainly involved now. With each point he made, each clarification he offered, it became more apparent that this "lazy council member" had taken quite an interest in the blonde cadet.

Given his personality—that he hadn’t even bothered to marry anyone despite decades of opportunity—the fact that he’d claimed a disciple was nothing short of revolutionary.

"Perhaps we should table this discussion," Marcus finally said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "It seems the matter is more complicated than initially presented."

No one argued, or rather - What could they even say?

***

After cultivating for another several hours, pushing his body to its limits and beyond, Cale needed to test these new powers—the Soul Armor, the new sword, the strange new eyes that burned gold and ice blue.

He couldn’t possibly ask just anyone for a proper sparring match without raising suspicion. So naturally, he decided to go to Emma’s room.

But then his expression shifted. His eyes sharpened, that familiar hunger returning.

"I need a fight. A damn good one!... sigh, are the energies inside me rising again. This godforsaken bloodline!" he declared, his voice carrying an edge that made even his neighbors anxious. "Where the hell could she be? Is she still up though? The lights are ... on. Perfect then! I hope she isn’t with others."

Knock! Knock!

’Hmm, she isn’t there? But the door seems open..’

The moment Cale pushed open Emma’s door without knocking again, time seemed to stop.

This was her main residence, quite different from the one before.

The room was elegant—traditional architecture blending with eastern aesthetics. Delicate paper screens filtered soft lamplight, casting warm shadows across polished wooden floors. Silk cushions were scattered artfully, and a low table held tea that steamed gently. Everything spoke of refined taste and careful arrangement.

But none of that mattered because Emma stood in the center of the room, her white silk robe hanging open across her shoulders, revealing the full expanse of her pale elf skin.

Her delicate collarbones were exposed, leading down to the modest swell of her perky breasts, completely unbound. The robe draped loosely at her waist, held only by a sash she hadn’t yet tied. Her figure was lithe but undeniably curvaceous—the kind of beauty that seemed almost unfair in its perfection.

And beside her, another girl—yes, another girl!, based on the similar dark hair and sharp features—was in an even more compromising state. She wore only a thin undergarment that left absolutely nothing to imagination, her body displayed in full: fuller breasts than Emma’s, a defined waist, and curves that suggested she trained as intensely as she cultivated. Her skin had that same pale perfection, unmarred and pristine.

Both girls froze mid-motion, their hands still raised from removing their robes.

Cale’s reaction was instantaneous and visceral.

His entire face flushed crimson—from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the color spreading down his neck like spilled wine.

His eyes went wide, pupils dilating as his brain essentially short-circuited at the visual stimulus before him. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like a fish removed from water.

It was one thing if Emma was here alone, but in the eyes of the other girl, Emma doesn’t even know Cale exists. She is the ’Ice Queen’ who doesn’t give a thought about anyone else, let alone romance.

"I-I-I..." he stammered, unable to form coherent words. His hands came up defensively, covering his face partially, though his fingers splayed just enough that he could still technically see through them.

’Oh god, oh god, oh god. This is—I didn’t—she definitely is going to fuck me— no that’s not it! she’s going to kill me later!’

His lower body reacted immediately and without his permission, a development that only deepened his mortification. He was a man of culture, yes, but being caught red-handed like this? This was beyond anything his composure could handle. Such things do not end up good in real life.

Emma’s expression shifted from shock to something almost predatory, one eyebrow rising with obvious amusement at his flustered state.

The other girl simply stared, her blue eyes—so similar to Cale’s own—reflecting a mixture of surprise and something else entirely.

And yet, our protagonist didn’t even—for a second— think that he should’ve turned around and run away. Oh yes, he continued to stare.