Strongest Incubus System

Cherry held Damon's gaze for a few more seconds after their last exchange, as if deliberately prolonging the silence to observe any micro-expression he might let slip, any involuntary tension, any sign that there was more behind that relaxed facade than he let on. The surrounding environment remained almost still, like a carefully constructed painting—the two women still in their positions, the sweet aroma in the air, the golden lighting enveloping everything with a deceptive softness—but something was shifting beneath the surface. A growing expectation. A test about to begin.

"So," Cherry finally said, her voice soft but now with more weight, more direct, as she leaned slightly forward, her eyes fixed on him with a more evident intensity. "If you didn't come here just to play… what exactly are you looking for?"

Damon didn't answer immediately.

He maintained his relaxed posture, one hand still in his pocket, the other loose at his side, as if that question were just another triviality in the middle of a light conversation. His eyes scanned the room once more—not out of necessity, but out of habit—before returning to her, and then he shrugged with an almost irritating nonchalance.

"Fun," he replied, with a nonchalant half-smile. "A little excitement. You know how it is… places like this tend to hide interesting things."

Cherry didn't react immediately.

But she didn't smile either.

On the contrary—

Her gaze cooled.

Not completely.

But enough.

"No," she said, cutting off his reply cleanly, without raising her voice, but with a precision that turned the word into a blade. "You didn't come here for fun."

And then—

Before Damon could even complete his next gesture—

She moved.

There was no visible preparation.

No signal.

No anticipated movement that could be read.

Just—

Action.

A blade appeared.

Direct. Quick.

Precise.

The tip of a sword was now positioned just inches from Damon's neck, so close that any sudden movement could be interpreted as a fatal mistake.

And he—

Didn't even see where it came from.

At the same time—

The two women who until then seemed like mere decorative extensions of the environment were no longer in their previous positions.

Now they were behind him.

One on each side.

And two cold blades rested against his neck, crossed at a perfect angle, pressing lightly against his skin with a professional precision that made it clear this wasn't acting.

Silence.

Total.

Heavy.

Loaded.

Damon remained motionless for a second.

Two.

And then—

He laughed.

Softly.

Sincerely.

Almost… satisfied.

"Okay…" he murmured, slowly raising his hands in a clear gesture of surrender, though there was no real tension in his body. "Now it's interesting."

His eyes moved slightly, analyzing the position of the blades, the angle, the distance, the weight of the touch against his skin.

Perfect.

Clean.

Efficient.

"I have to admit," he continued, a crooked smile appearing on his lips, "I really didn't see that coming."

Cherry didn't respond to the comment.

She simply kept her sword steady, her eyes fixed on him, now completely devoid of any trace of previous lightness.

This was business.

"Last chance," she said, her voice low but absolutely firm. "What do you want?"

Damon tilted his head slightly, as if considering the best way to respond, even with three blades pointed at him.

And then—

He sighed.

"Information," he finally said, abandoning his playful tone for the first time since entering the room. "About the Duchess of Arven."

Silence.

But this time—

Different.

Cherry's eyes narrowed slightly.

Not in surprise.

But in recognition.

She made a small gesture with her hand.

Immediate.

Precise.

And the two women stepped back.

The blades left Damon's neck as quickly as they had appeared, disappearing from his field of vision as if they had never been there, although now it was impossible to ignore the fact that those two were not just decoration.

They were weapons.

Cherry also put away her sword, twirling it lightly before simply letting it disappear—how, Damon still didn't know.

But this… was interesting.

Very interesting.

"You have good taste," she said, leaning back in the chaise lounge with the same elegance as before, as if nothing had happened. "But you're also entering… extremely delicate territory."

Damon slowly lowered his hands, completely at ease again, as if he hadn't just had three blades pointed at his throat.

"I usually do this," he replied.

Cherry watched him for a few more seconds, assessing.

Weighing.

"And what exactly do you want to know?" she asked.

Damon took a small step forward, slightly shortening the distance between them, his gaze now more direct, more focused.

"Everything," he said, with a slight smile. "Routine. Contacts. Movements. Secrets. What she's planning… and with whom."

Cherry raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Ambitious."

Damon shrugged.

"That's just how I am."

There was a pause.

Short.

And then—

"And what do you offer in return?" she asked.

Damon didn't hesitate.

He just smiled.

And then made a slight gesture with his hand toward the door.

"Everything I earned today," he said. "Every coin. Every token. Everything."

The silence that followed was… different.

But not heavy.

Almost… curious.

Cherry stared at him for a second.

Two.

And then—

She laughed.

Softly.

But genuinely.

"You're funny," she said.

Damon tilted his head slightly.

"Thank you."

But her smile changed.

It became sharper.

"But I'm not going to be paid… with my own money."

The sentence came out clean.

Direct.

No room for negotiation.

Damon let out a small sigh through his nose, as if he had been expecting it.

"Fair enough," he said, shrugging again. "So… what do you want?"

And then—

Cherry moved.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

She placed her hand on her own shoulder.

And began to slide the fabric of her dress.

Slowly.

Without haste.

Without taking her eyes off him for a single second.

The black fabric began to give way, gradually revealing the fair skin beneath, the curve of her shoulder, the line of her neckline, as the dress simply… fell.

The atmosphere seemed to grow even quieter.

Denser.

More… heavy. "You," she said, in a low, almost soft, but absolutely direct tone.

Damon didn't react immediately.

He just… watched her.

For a second.

Two.

Three.

And then—

He smiled.

But it wasn't the same smile as before.

This one was different.

Calmer.

More… dangerous.

"Hmm…" he murmured, tilting his head slightly.

And then—

He moved his hand.

A simple gesture.

Almost lazy.

As if pushing away a bothersome thought.

But the effect—

Was immediate.

The air in the room changed.

Abruptly.

Violently.

As if something invisible had suddenly expanded, filling every inch of space with an overwhelming, silent, absolute pressure.

The two women froze.

In mid-movement.

Eyes open.

Bodies motionless.

Like statues.

Cherry—

She stopped.

Her dress still slipping off her shoulder.

Her gaze—

It changed.

For the first time since Damon entered that room—

Surprise.

Real.

Her eyes fixed on him, trying to process what was happening, trying to move her body, respond, react—

But nothing.

Nothing responded.

Time seemed to have stopped around her.

Damon took a step forward.

Calm.

Unhurried.

As if he were walking through an environment completely under his control.

Because now—

He was.

He stopped a few steps from her, observing her from above with that same slight smile, but now laden with something much deeper.

Much more… dangerous.

"Mmm…" he murmured, analyzing her expression with genuine interest. "I really liked that part."

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning her face, capturing every nuance of that unprecedented reaction.

"You didn't think I was weak, did you?" he said, in an almost amused tone, but with a layer of power beneath that made it impossible to ignore the real weight of the question.

Silence answered for her.

Because now—

She couldn't answer.

But her eyes?

They said it all.

And Damon…

Just smiled more.

Damon kept his hand slightly raised, the air still thick around them like an invisible pressure that kept everything under his absolute control, as he observed Cherry with that same calm, almost analytical gaze, as if he were evaluating a rare piece that had just revealed an unexpected function.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile now more vivid, filled with a confidence that no longer needed to be disguised.

"Look…" he began, his tone too casual for the situation, as if they were discussing something trivial and not the fact that he had immobilized three people with a simple gesture. "I even admire beautiful women."

His eyes drifted down for a brief moment, not vulgarly, but assessing, recognizing what was there—the aesthetics, the construction, the impact.

"And you definitely fall into that category," he continued, looking at her lightly again. "But I don't usually… let's say… get involved with just anyone."

There was a brief silence.

The pressure in the air was still palpable.

The two girls remained completely still, like living statues trapped mid-session, their eyes still open, aware, but unable to react.

Cherry, on the other hand…

She was still trying.

Her eyes moved.

Her breathing, though controlled, betrayed something new—not fear exactly, but a break in the absolute control she had maintained until a few seconds ago.

And then—

She murmured something.

Softly.

So softly that it barely pierced the dense silence of the room.

Damon blinked once.

"Huh?" he tilted his head slightly, taking a half-step closer, as if he really hadn't understood. "I didn't hear."

Her eyes widened slightly.

Not because of his presence.

But because of the situation itself.

And then—

Without warning—

She exploded.

"ME NEITHER!" she shouted, her voice breaking the silence with an intensity completely outside the calculated pattern she had maintained until then. "I'M A VIRGIN!"

Silence.

Total.

Absolute.

Heavy—

But now… strange.

Very strange.

Damon blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The two girls—

Still frozen—

But their eyes?

They moved.

Confused.

Clearly trying to process what they had just heard.

Damon slowly turned his face towards them.

Then back to Cherry.

And then—

A smile began to form.

Slow.

Dangerous.

But, above all—

Fun.

"…what is it?" he asked, finally, with an almost offensive calm, as if asking her to repeat something completely absurd.

The echo of that phrase still seemed to vibrate in the air.

Cherry—

Now—

She seemed to realize what she had just said.

The silence that followed was no longer strategic.

It was no longer tense in a calculated way.

It was… awkward.

For the first time since Damon entered that room—

She didn't seem in control of the situation.

Or of herself.

Her eyes drifted for a second.

Slightly.

But enough.

Damon brought his hand to his chin, as if genuinely reflecting on that information, walking slowly around her with soft steps, completely at ease within that domain that was now, undeniably, his.

"Okay…" he murmured thoughtfully. "That… I really wasn't expecting."

He stopped in front of her again, slightly crossing his arms, tilting his head as he analyzed her with even more interest now.

"So let me see if I understand," he continued, his tone light, but clearly amused by the situation. "You run an illegal casino, organize secret meetings of dangerous people, send armed men to point swords at visitors' necks…"

He paused briefly.

"…and you never even came close to—"

He stopped.

He raised an eyebrow.

And then let out a small nasal laugh.

"That explains a lot," he concluded.

The two girls, even motionless, were now clearly trying not to react—which made the situation even more absurd.

Cherry closed her eyes for a brief second.

She took a deep breath.

And when she opened them—

There was still tension.

There was still control trying to return.

But there was something new there.

A flaw.

Small.

But real.

Damon observed.

And smiled.

Lighter now.

Less aggressive.

But still completely in control.

"Relax," he said casually, making a small gesture with his hand—and, for a moment, the air pressure decreased just enough to allow the room to breathe again, without yet completely releasing them. "I won't use this against you…"

He tilted his head slightly, looking directly into her eyes.

"…unless you keep trying to sell me as a product."

A pause.

And then—

The smile returned.

"Now," he continued, his tone more focused, returning to the original objective with impressive ease, as if that absurd break had never happened. "Let's get back to what matters."

He took a step back, his hands in his pockets again, completely relaxed.

"Information," he said. "About the Duchess."

His gaze fixed on her.

Calm.

But non-negotiable.

"And this time…" he added, with a slight tilt of his head.

"No distractions."