Strongest Incubus System

Cherry remained motionless for a few seconds after Damon’s comment, her gaze still heavy with an unstable mixture of irritation, wounded pride, and something harder to identify—perhaps frustration at having completely lost control of the situation that, until then, she had seemed to have carefully mastered. The invisible pressure still hung in the air, enveloping everything like an invisible hand holding the world in place, constantly reminding her who had taken command within.

She breathed with controlled difficulty, her eyes fixed on him, and then spoke, this time without shouting, but with a firmness that attempted to recover some of her lost authority.

"...let me go," she said, her voice lower, but still heavy with tension. "I’ll talk."

Damon observed her for a brief moment, as if evaluating not only the words, but the real weight behind them, trying to gauge how much of it was cooperation... or just another attempt to regain an advantage.

And then—

He made a small gesture with his hand.

Simple.

Almost lazy.

But the effect was immediate.

The air pressure vanished as if it had never existed, dissolving silently. Cherry lost the invisible support that had held her rigid, and for a moment, her body failed to keep up with the sudden change—her knees buckled slightly, forcing her to lean on the chaise longue to avoid falling completely.

The two girls also moved abruptly, regaining control of their bodies with heavy breathing, clearly affected, though they quickly tried to disguise it.

Damon, on the other hand—

He remained exactly the same.

Calm.

Relaxed.

As if none of it had required any effort.

"Great," he said with a slight smile, taking a step to the side and crossing his arms. "I prefer conversations when both parties can... move."

Cherry slowly looked up at him, still regaining her balance, a strand of pink hair falling across her face as her breathing finally stabilized.

And there—

There was something new.

Respect.

Reluctant.

But undeniable.

"You..." she began, frowning slightly. "You’re not just a skilled player."

Damon shrugged.

"I’m glad you noticed."

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze now more direct, less playful.

"Now speak."

It wasn’t a request.

It was an order.

Cherry closed her eyes for a second, clearly reorganizing her thoughts, and then composed herself, slowly adjusting her posture on the chaise longue, though this time without the same aura of absolute dominance as before.

"...The Duchess of Arven," she began, carefully choosing each word. "She’s not just an ordinary noblewoman."

Damon didn’t interrupt.

But his attention immediately intensified.

Cherry continued.

"She’s part of something bigger... much bigger than this casino, or any other ordinary power structure in the city."

She paused briefly, as if pondering how far she could go.

"I’m part of it too."

The silence that followed was no surprise.

It was confirmation.

Damon narrowed his eyes slightly.

"An organization," he said, more as a statement than a question.

Cherry nodded slowly.

"Underworld... elite... call it what you will. A group that operates in the shadows, influencing nobles, commerce, wars... everything."

She crossed her legs slightly, regaining some composure, though her voice now carried a more serious, more real tone.

"I married the Duke of Arven for this," she continued bluntly. "To rise within this structure. More influence. More access. More power."

Damon let out a small, thoughtful "hm," running his thumb over his chin.

"Ambitious."

"Necessary," she corrected.

There was a brief silence.

And then—

Cherry looked away slightly, something rare until then.

"But there are limits," she added, lower in her voice. "I can’t say who they are. Nor how they operate completely."

She looked back at him.

"But I can tell you this..."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"She’s dangerous."

The word wasn’t spoken dramatically.

It was stated as fact.

"Not just politically," Cherry continued. "She’s... in demand. Influential. Respected—and feared—within the underworld."

Damon remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing everything, connecting invisible dots as his gaze briefly drifted into the void.

And then—

He smiled.

Slowly.

"Interesting..."

He uncrossed his arms, walking slowly through the space, as if mentally rearranging each piece of this new chessboard that had just been revealed.

"So she’s not just a problematic stepmother..." he murmured, more to himself. "She’s someone with real reach."

Cherry didn’t answer.

But her silence confirmed everything.

Damon stopped again in front of her, tilting his head slightly.

"And you?" he asked. "Where do you fit into all this... besides ’convenient wife’?"

Cherry held his gaze for a few seconds.

And then—

A small smile appeared.

Less theatrical.

More honest.

"I’m useful," she said.

A pause.

"And that makes me... dangerous too."

Damon chuckled softly through his nose.

"I like that."

He put his hands back in his pockets, completely at ease.

"Maybe we’ll get along."

Cherry raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Maybe," she replied.

Damon held Cherry’s gaze for a few more moments after her answer, as if evaluating not only the words, but the weight behind them, carefully measuring how far that "usefulness" really extended and, more importantly, how far she would be willing to go. The slight smile still lingered on his lips, but now there was something more behind it—clear, directed, almost strategic intention.

He tilted his head slightly, taking a slow step across the room, as if merely organizing his thoughts, though each movement was calculated.

"Right... useful, dangerous, well-positioned..." he murmured, more to himself than to her, before stopping again, this time closer, without invading her space, but making his proximity clear. "This seems exactly the kind of person I was looking for."

Cherry didn’t look away.

But she didn’t answer immediately either.

She knew it was coming.

And she waited.

Damon then put one hand in his pocket, keeping the other loose at his side, relaxed as always—but his eyes were completely focused on her now.

"So let’s simplify," he said, directly, without beating around the bush this time. "Can you help me?"

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was charged.

Cherry observed Damon more intently than before, as if she were now analyzing him in the same way he had analyzed her from the beginning—dismantling layer by layer, trying to find flaws, hidden intentions, points of risk.

"It depends," she finally replied, slightly crossing her legs again, regaining some of that elegant posture that seemed almost natural to her. "Help how?"

Damon gave a small, wry smile.

"Information is a start," he said. "The Duchess’s movements, relevant contacts... opportunities."

He paused briefly, tilting his head slightly.

"But not only that."

Cherry narrowed her eyes slightly.

Interested.

Cautious.

"Go on," she said.

Damon walked slowly to a side table, distractedly running his fingers over the surface, as if completely at ease in that space that, minutes ago, hadn’t been his.

"You said this organization influences everything, right?" he continued. "Politics, commerce, wars..."

He looked back at her.

"So someone like you isn’t just an observer. You... open doors."

Cherry didn’t answer.

But the slight arch of an eyebrow was enough.

Damon smiled a little more.

"I don’t just need to know what the duchess is doing," he said. "I need to get close."

Now that was more like it—

The atmosphere changed again.

Subtle.

But perceptible.

Cherry rested her elbow on the arm of the chaise lounge, lightly resting her face on her hand, observing him with a more analytical, deeper gaze.

"And why would I do that?" she asked, not hostilely, but with genuine curiosity now. "You just showed me that you don’t need me to assert yourself."

Damon chuckled softly through his nose.

"Asserting and accessing are different things," he replied. "I can break down doors."

A pause.

He tilted his head slightly.

"But you have the key."

Silence.

Cherry held his gaze for a few seconds, clearly weighing that phrase, assessing how true—or dangerous—it was.

The two girls in the background, now fully recovered, remained in absolute silence, as if they understood that any interruption at that moment would be... inappropriate.

"And what do I get out of it?" Cherry asked again, but this time her tone had changed. Less defensive. More... negotiating.

Damon didn’t hesitate.

"Protection," he said simply.

She blinked once.

Not expecting that.

"Protection... from what?" she questioned.

Damon shrugged slightly.

"From anything that makes you need it," he replied. "Or from anything... within this organization that you can’t control."

Cherry’s gaze intensified.

Now that touched a nerve—

That hit a nerve.

She didn’t respond immediately.

But her silence was no longer neutral.

Damon noticed.

Of course he noticed.

And then he took a small step back, as if deliberately easing the pressure of the conversation, returning to his usual relaxed posture.

"Besides...," he added, with a slight smile. "I’m interesting. That counts for something."

Cherry let out a low, almost involuntary laugh.

"Conceited," she murmured.

"Realistic," he corrected.

More silence.

But now—

Different.

Less tense.

More... aligned.

Cherry slowly ran her fingers along her arm, thoughtfully, before finally looking at him again with that same sharp gaze as before—but now with a new element.

Real interest.

"You want access... information... and proximity to the duchess," she summarized. "And, in return, you offer... strength, protection, and... unpredictability."

Damon smiled.

"That sounds better when you say it."

She tilted her head slightly.

"And you expect me to simply accept that?"

Damon shrugged.

"No," he replied. "I expect you to be intelligent enough to consider it."

Silence.

Long. Cherry stared at him for several seconds, as if she were literally weighing risks and benefits in real time, cross-referencing information, evaluating possibilities that went far beyond that room.

And then—

A small smile appeared.

Slow.

Dangerous.

"Maybe...," she said, echoing the previous word, but now with a completely different meaning. "Maybe I can help."

Damon didn’t overreact.

He just tilted his head slightly.

"I knew you were useful."

Cherry rolled her eyes slightly, but didn’t deny it.

"But this isn’t a deal yet," she added. "It’s... a start."

Damon smiled a little more.

"The best problems always start like this."