The wooden stairs creaked under my bare feet as I made my way down, the morning air biting at my exposed chest. I hadn't bothered to button my shirt—why would I? After the session upstairs, my body felt like a furnace.

I shoved a hand down my pants, adjusting the thick, wet meat that was still twitching against my thigh. It felt heavy, slick with the mixed fluids of Kaida and Mira, a sticky reminder of how thoroughly I'd just broken them in.

"Hah..." A satisfied breath escaped my lips.

Kaida's throat... fuck, that woman was a warrior in every sense. And Mira? She was born to serve. The image of them drooling, eyes rolling back as I emptied my balls into them... it put a spring in my step.

I reached the bottom landing and paused.

In the sitting room, the morning sun was cutting through the dust motes, illuminating a small figure near the window. It was Bella. She was holding Toby, Mira's kid, rocking him gently. The boy was giggling, tugging at one of her silver locks, but Bella didn't seem to mind.

She was wearing a simple beige dress—one of the few decent things we'd scavenged. It hugged her petite frame perfectly, the hem stopping just above her knees, leaving her small, pale calves bare.

"Well, don't you look cute in that," I teased, my voice raspy. "Trying to steal the young master's heart, little cat?"

Bella stiffened. Her cat ears, usually twitching with alertness, were pressed flat against her skull. She didn't turn around. She just gave a stiff, jerky nod.

The silence stretched. It was... awkward.

"Bella?" I took a step closer.

She turned slightly, and I stopped. Her eyes—those bright, golden amber eyes that usually tracked everything with predator-like intensity—were dull. Hollow. It looked like the life had been sucked out of them. She wasn't looking at me; she was looking 'through' me.

"Is something—"

'Knock. Knock. Knock.'

The heavy thud of knuckles against the main door cut me off.

"Lord Viktor! The villagers... they are here as requested!" Mira's voice called out from the hallway, sounding breathless but composed.

I clicked my tongue. "Tsk. Great timing."

I glanced back at Bella one last time. She had turned back to the window, her shoulders slumped. I wanted to press her, to grab that chin and force her to tell me what was eating her, but the "Lord" had duties.

"Later," I muttered to myself, turning on my heel and walking toward the door.

I stepped out onto the porch, the rotting wood groaning under my weight.

A group of five men stood there. They looked like skeletons wrapped in rags. Their skin was grey from malnutrition, their eyes sunken. At the front was the man I'd bought bread from before—the baker, if you could call him that.

The moment they saw me, they dropped.

"M-My Lord!"

They didn't just bow; they folded in half, foreheads practically touching the dirt. I could smell the fear rolling off them—a sour, acrid stench. They were shaking.

"Rise," I said, leaning against the doorframe, crossing my arms.

They straightened up, but none of them dared to meet my eyes. Their hands were clasping and unclasping, wringing invisible cloth.

"So," I started, letting my voice carry that noble arrogance they expected. "I called you here to discuss the tax."

The word hit them like a physical blow. The baker flinched. Another man let out a small, strangled whimper.

"P-Please, My Lord..." the baker stammered, his voice trembling. "We... we have nothing. The harvest... there is no harvest. The shops... we only trade in scraps. We have no coin. Please... if you tax us, we starve. Our children..."

He fell to his knees again, tears carving clean tracks through the dirt on his face. "Please... mercy..."

I watched them, my face impassive. It was pathetic. It was reality. This was what the Empire had done to them.

"The law is clear," I said coldly. "This is my territory. You live on my land. You pay tax."

The despair was palpable. It was heavy, suffocating. They looked like men who had just been told their execution date. They turned to each other, eyes wide with panic, then started to back away, defeat crushing their shoulders. They were ready to go home and tell their families they were going to die.

'Clatter.'

I tossed the small leather bag onto the rotting table beside me. The sound of metal hitting wood rang out like a gunshot in the silence.

The men froze. They turned back, staring at the bag, then at me.

"H-Huh?"

"Tax," I said, scratching my chin. "The tax rate is set. You will pay me 2 copper coins for every 10 I give you."

Silence. Absolute, confused silence.

I reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of copper coins. I counted out ten, then deliberately slid two back into the bag.

"Here," I said, tossing the remaining eight coins at the baker's feet. They landed in the dust with a soft 'ching'.

The baker stared at the money. He looked at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "M-My Lord? I... I don't understand."

"Are you deaf?" I growled, feigning annoyance. "I am paying you for your services. I'm paying you ten coins. But I'm taking two as tax immediately. That leaves you with eight. Pick it up."

"P-Paying us?" The man behind him stepped forward, his eyes bulging. "For... for what? We haven't... we haven't done anything!"

"Yet," I corrected. I pointed a lazy finger toward the side of the manor, where the garden lay—a chaotic jungle of overgrown weeds, strange purple vines, and spiky bushes.

"See that mess?" I asked.

They nodded dumbly.

I leaned forward, grinning, letting a bit of my teeth show. "For every 1 KG batch of such poisonous grass you pull up and bring to me from your village lr wherever, I will pay you 1 copper coin. So, if you bring me 10 KG, that's 10 coins."

The baker looked at the garden, then at the coins in the dust, then back at me. His face began to glow. It wasn't just relief; it was disbelief. 10 coins? In this wasteland, that was a fortune. That was food for a month.

"Y-You mean..." he choked out. "Just... just bringing weeds?"

"Yeah, Just weeds," I confirmed. "But be careful. It's poisonous. Don't eat it, obviously."

The shock on their faces broke.

"THANK YOU!"

The shout was simultaneous. All five of them dropped to the ground again, slamming their heads into the dirt.

"Thank you, My Lord! Thank you!"

"Bless you! Bless the House of Lord!"

They were crying now—tears of joy this time. It was disgusting. It was cringe-inducing. A bunch of grown men sobbing over copper coins.

My eye twitched. "Alright, alright, shut up. Get out of here."

"Yes! Yes, My Lord!"

They scrambled backward, bowing repeatedly, treating me like I was some benevolent god descended from the heavens.

I watched them go, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and satisfaction.

They didn't know those "poisonous weeds" were actually 'treasure' for me.

1 copper for a kilo? I was robbing them blind.

Of course, they get to live their standard of living, and I get to live mine by taking taxes from them and at least 1000 copper coins from one grass I will sell to those fat nobles soon.

'Win-win,' I thought.

I turned back to the house, scratching my chest. The sweat from earlier was drying, making my skin itch, and already knowing Mira would have convinced Kaida,

'Let's test how my third wife tastes...'

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