Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​The metal door of Elara’s treatment room hissed shut.

The moment the final gap sealed, the atmosphere in the North Wing corridor instantly shifted.

Ethan Valen stepped back, leaning his broad back against the marble wall. His eyes closed for three seconds. Drawing a breath. Swallowing the last remnants of relief that had momentarily weakened his rationality.

When his eyelids opened, the warm gaze of an older brother evaporated without a trace. Replaced by the razor-sharp glare of the Demon Lord.

Nearby, Isolde von Rosenberg smoothed out her slightly wrinkled satin gloves. The Vice Principal froze her aura once again.

Kaelia von Ashford quietly wiped the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand, desperately choking back the lingering emotions that had churned over the past hour.

Meanwhile, Miya Evarett stood leaning on Kaelia’s arm. The healer’s pale face grew even more ashen. Cold sweat flooded her forehead after her mana capacity was drained beyond its limits.

Ethan straightened his posture. He retook control over his pawns.

"Isolde," Ethan called out calmly. "Return to your office. Manipulate the access logs for this corridor."

Isolde bowed with the precision of a noble servant. "Right away, My Master." Her heels echoed in an urgent rhythm, then vanished around the corner.

Ethan shifted his gaze to the heir of the Southern Faction. "And Kaelia. Return to your dorm. But be ready... I will summon you tonight."

Thump. Kaelia’s heart raced. After a week of being exiled without a summons, that invitation was like a drop of water in the middle of a desert.

"I am always ready and waiting, My Master," Kaelia said, bowing deeply. She turned around, trying to maintain her elegance, but Ethan could see the slight skip in her step that she couldn’t hide.

Now only the two of them remained. Ethan took Miya’s cold hand, guiding her back to the VIP Room.

The moment the VIP Room door clicked shut, Miya’s defenses collapsed. The Elf girl dragged her feet, then slumped limply onto the bed. Her leather satchel dropped carelessly to the floor.

"Hah... I never expected... it would feel this exhausting..." Miya groaned, staring blankly at the carved ceiling.

Ethan undid the top two buttons of his shirt to breathe easier, then sat back in the velvet chair near the window.

"It is perfectly normal for your bones to feel crushed," Ethan responded calmly. "You just used high-tier magic for a full hour to reinforce the fragile circuit of an ordinary human. It is natural that you are exhausted."

Miya slowly raised her petite palms. She stared intently at her fingers. There, the glow of Crimson Radiance—holy white bordered by blood red—still lingered dimly.

"Elara..." Miya whispered hoarsely. "...her will to live is extraordinary. Managing to survive in a body that fragile under the pressure of her own magic... she is very strong."

"Yes. Elara is indeed strong." Ethan’s gaze drifted toward the fireplace.

Miya tilted her head, looking at the young man. The ghosts of fear and hatred were slowly ousted by awe at the sheer contrast of this man’s dark side when it came to his family.

"Thank you, My Master," Miya said sincerely. "Thank you for... entrusting her life to me."

Ethan didn’t answer verbally. However, beneath the dim light of the fireplace, Miya saw the corner of the Demon Lord’s lips curve upward. A smile of pure relief.

Night swallowed the gray twilight.

The crystal lamps were dimmed. Miya had already fallen fast asleep, curled up on the left side of the bed like an exhausted cat.

Ethan stood on the balcony, leaning against the stone railing. He gazed at the expanse of stars above Zenithar Academy. The freezing night air was unable to pierce his demonic blood.

"Fufufu..." The husky voice of the Asmodeus System teased in his head.

"You look much lighter tonight, My Master," the entity whispered like poisoned honey. "Is it because your beloved sister can finally smile without pain? Or is it because... you can finally close your eyes without being haunted by guilt?"

You are talking too much tonight, Asmodeus, Ethan replied flatly in his mind.

The System chuckled elegantly. "Of course. One giant burden on your shoulders has been lifted tonight. But... we both know, there are still other burdens and targets you have to destroy in this academy, right?"

Ethan didn’t reply. Realizing her master was reluctant to debate, the elegant voice faded back into the darkest corner of the Demon Lord’s consciousness.

Thud.

Boot soles landed smoothly on the balcony floor. Valera Voss had returned.

The executioner slipped in through the window as usual. Her armor was wet with melted snow. Her biceps tensed, holding back fatigue, while traces of exhaustion peeked out from behind her golden eyes.

Without beating around the bush, Valera dropped to one knee, bowing deeply. "I have returned, My Master. The underground tunnel route was longer because of a collapsed passage, but I made sure no one saw my arrival."

Ethan stared at the top of his executioner’s head. "Are you injured?"

Valera looked up, flashing her fanged smirk. "Just minor scrapes, My Master. The ice rocks in the valley were apparently quite sharp."

Ethan reached out his left hand, directly touching the Lust Brand on Valera’s neck. Not to arouse her, but to scan the knight’s mana circuit.

"Your circuit is strained to its limits. You forced yourself to run non-stop across the icy terrain," Ethan concluded, pulling his hand back.

"I am used to pushing my physical limits, My Master," Valera answered proudly.

"But you don’t need to be used to that anymore from now on," Ethan cut in coldly, yet saturated with absolute protection. "Your duties for today are done. You need to rest."

The rustling of blankets broke their conversation.

Miya woke up. The Elf girl shifted her body with heavy eyes. Sniffing danger, she widened her eyes seeing the black-armored figure enter.

"V-Valera...?" Miya called out softly. A second later she flinched, hurriedly covering her own mouth in fear of using the wrong name in front of her Master.

"You used the right name, Miya," Ethan replied, stepping inside, with Valera trailing behind.

Ethan stopped at the foot of the bed. "Take off your armor, Valera. You are sleeping in this bed with me tonight."

Valera’s golden eyes widened in shock. "D-do you mean... I am sleeping in the exact same bed... with both of you at once?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Do you mind?"

Hearing that challenge, a wild and hungry smirk instantly bloomed on the knight’s exotic face. Of course she wouldn’t refuse an order regarding the territorial domain of the bed!

Without wasting a single second, Valera stripped off her belts and armor clasps. Clatter! Light metal and leather fell to the floor.

She left only her undergarments, proudly flaunting her rock-solid six-pack abs. On that brown skin, a few fresh, reddish scratches were clearly visible.

Miya, whose consciousness was only half-recovered, gasped in shock at the sudden display. Her face flushed a deep red. She hurriedly buried half her face behind the pillow.

"Ugh... why do you always do these embarrassing things in front of me..." Miya whimpered, muffled by the pillow.

Hearing the petite girl’s complaint, Valera merely let out a very masculine, husky laugh. She tossed the rest of her belts onto a chair. "You need to start getting used to it, Little Healer. This is our shared home now."

A few minutes later, the awkward sleeping formation was established.

Valera lay on her side on the right edge of the mattress. Miya curled up tightly on the left. Ethan lay flat on his back in the middle. No one spoke. The sound of their breathing slowly synchronized into a peaceful melody.

Miya fell asleep first, swallowed by exhaustion. Valera followed; for the very first time in her combat history, the bloodhound fell fast asleep without resting her hand on the hilt of a sword. As long as the man beside her drew breath, she knew she was safe.

But, Ethan remained awake.

His left arm wrapped protectively around Miya’s waist. His right hand rested casually on Valera’s muscular shoulder. A position that radiated absolute dominance over his precious pawns.

Amidst that silence...

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A very soft knock on the door. Hesitant. Cautious. Yet to Ethan’s ears, the sound echoed as clearly as thunder.

He wasn’t startled. He already knew exactly who was at the door.

Ethan slowly withdrew his arms, slipping out of bed without waking his two women. He straightened his shirt, then opened the door soundlessly.

Isolde von Rosenberg stood in the corridor threshold.

The Vice Principal looked far from her perfect image. Her platinum blonde hair was left hanging loose. Her glasses were slightly askew. And behind those lenses, her icy blue eyes now radiated a terribly fragile vulnerability.

"Forgive me for disturbing your rest, My Master," Isolde said. Her aristocratic voice trembled faintly, holding something back.

The woman didn’t dare step inside. She stood rooted in the doorway, exactly like someone trembling at the edge of a bottomless abyss.

Ethan stepped aside slightly. "Come in, Isolde."

The carved wooden door was closed once more, isolating them. Isolde stood stiffly in the middle of the room, her arms crossed to hide her hands clutching tightly together in front of her stomach.

A suffocating silence. Ethan merely leaned casually against the door, letting his captive run out of breath.

Then, with a voice that nearly cracked from despair, Isolde swallowed her pride whole.

"My Master..." Isolde called out, holding her breath. "...I... I wish to ask something of you tonight."

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. His expression was as calm as a marble statue. But behind that screen, the Demon Lord’s brain immediately began weaving a new web of traps out of the desperation of the most powerful woman in the academy.