Just as I was deciding to activate it, an angry shout split the air.

"YUKIE! STOP!"

The woman's voice was loud, full of authority, and boiling with anger. Before her words even finished, a torrent of orange-red fire shot down from the dark night sky like a furious phoenix.

This fire was no joke—its heat was palpable even from several meters away. All six of the giant ice arms were instantly hit by the stream, melting immediately into boiling water that evaporated with a loud hiss.

Sssss—!

Hot steam filled the area, mixing with the remaining ice fog, creating a thick white cloud that obscured vision.

I wiped my eyes, trying to see. From within the steam cloud, a silhouette descended gracefully, still surrounded by a slow-burning aura of fire.

Ophelia.

She landed amidst the wreckage, right in front of Yukie, who was still standing amongst the rubble of her own ice. The fire around Ophelia was so intense that the remaining ice around her instantly melted into puddles. Even the ice still clinging to the ground evaporated, turning the area around them into an overheated sauna.

I moved closer slowly, still cautious.

Ophelia didn't speak at first. Her fire-wrapped hand shot out with unavoidable speed, grabbing Yukie by the neck. She squeezed with a firm, threatening grip. Yukie didn't resist, didn't move. She allowed herself to be lifted slightly, her feet barely touching the ground.

"Are you aware of what you just did?" Ophelia's voice was low, but each word was like a hot ember. "You nearly destroyed part of this academy. On the night before the tournament. I thought you had a cool head, but look at this chaos you've created?"

I observed Yukie's face. Her eyes, which had moments ago trembled with wild emotion, were now back to being like chunks of ice—cold, flat, unreadable. Her expression was the same, empty. As if her explosive rage earlier had been a hallucination.

Ophelia saw that change in Yukie's eyes. She sighed, then released her chokehold, lowering Yukie back to the ground.

Yukie stood straight, only slightly adjusting the collar of her uniform, which was damp from melted ice.

Ophelia then turned her head, her fiery eyes now fixed on me. "And you, Adam. Is there an explanation for all this?"

Her voice was tense. I could see the anger on her face, but there was something else too—fatigue, maybe frustration. Ophelia did look a bit... unkempt lately. Her hair was somewhat messy, and there were faint dark circles under her eyes. She usually appeared perfectly put together.

And I knew exactly the reason.

Before I could open my mouth, Yukie spoke first in her characteristic flat tone.

"I apologize, Headmistress," she said, giving a slight bow. "I challenged Adam to a duel. I wanted to test his abilities myself before the tournament. But..." she paused briefly, "I lost control. Got too carried away. I apologize again and regret causing this disturbance."

'A pretty convenient excuse,' I thought cynically.

"She attacked me out of nowhere as I was about to go home," I cut in, my voice hard.

Yukie didn't deny it, nor did she agree. She stood there with her cold expression, as if what I'd said was meaningless.

Ophelia looked between us. Under normal circumstances, she'd probably find this fascinating—the academy's two top students, the genius from childhood and the newly-awakened underdog who was once the bullied loser, fighting in secret. A drama she might have observed with great interest.

But right now, her body wasn't in good shape. Because lately her body always felt hot, she'd been leaving work early, which meant work piled up, hence why she was still here and hadn't gone home yet this late at night. And on top of that...

'Tomorrow I have to meet many people,' she thought to herself. 'So much work to finish. But how can I focus... how can I work if...'

She stopped, taking a deep breath to cool down literally.

"We will discuss this matter tomorrow in my office," Ophelia finally said. "For now, both of you, go home. Rest. Tomorrow is an important day for this academy. Do not cause any more trouble."

She didn't wait for an answer.

After one last warning glance, Ophelia's body was enveloped in fire again and she shot into the air, leaving a trail of orange light in the night sky before disappearing towards her office tower.

'I must find a solution,' Ophelia thought as she flew away. 'Whatever it takes. I can't go on like this.'

I watched her leave, then looked at Yukie once more. That bitch stared back at me, standing amidst the wreckage, part of which had already turned into puddles and steam.

Without another word, I turned and walked away. My steps carried me from the heavily damaged battlefield.

Meanwhile, behind me, Yukie remained standing still. Her white eyes slowly swept the surrounding area. Then, her pale hand rose.

From amongst the melting ice rubble, a chunk of ice that somehow hadn't been fully melted by Ophelia's fire moved slowly, floating towards her. On the surface of that ice chunk was a speck of frozen blood—dark red against the pale blue background of ice.

Yukie gazed at the blood. Her delicate finger touched the ice surface right where the blood had frozen. Under her touch, the bloody ice changed shape—melting and refreezing rapidly, forming a small crystal sphere within which my frozen blood droplet was trapped.

She rolled the blood-filled ice sphere in her palm, her expression still unreadable.

I walked along the quiet streets, my wounded arm still throbbing. As soon as I got home, I sent a message to Charlotte from my phone.

Just one short sentence: "Come to my house. Now."

.

.

.

In her neatly organized office at the Hunter Association, Charlotte was finishing up a routine report. The atmosphere was calm, filled only with the sound of keyboard typing and the AC. Her blonde hair was tied up neatly, reading glasses perched on her straight nose, framing a face that was usually so professional and authoritative.

Bzzzt.

A vibration from her phone on the desk. Her eyes were still on the computer screen as her right hand reflexively reached for the phone. Her finger opened the notification.

And the world stopped.

On her phone screen, that contact name glowed with two words that made her heart instantly race: Master Adam.

The message was brief. An order that left no room for negotiation. But it wasn't the words that made Charlotte's body react as if electrocuted.

Master Adam.

Those two words alone were enough.

A sudden, shameful wave of heat swept through her entire body. From the base of her thighs, a damp warmth began to seep, making the fabric of her tight underwear feel moist within seconds. Her full breasts beneath her blazer and tight blouse felt taut, her nipples hardening and pressing against the fabric, clearly visible if anyone looked closely.

"Y-You bastard..." she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse. Her hand trembled while holding the phone.

That was the contact name forced upon her by her best friend's stepson after that... unforgettable night.

After he took everything—her vaginal virginity, mouth, even her anal—brutally and without mercy. After fucking her into helplessness, alongside her own stepmother and stepsister, in a wild sex orgy that still made her shiver with a mix of shame every time she remembered.

Adam had let her go home the next day. But not without conditions. That depraved man threatened that if Charlotte did anything, if she tried to resist or report, all the recordings and evidence of what happened—of her moaning wildly, begging for more, becoming a slave to lust—would be leaked to the whole world. Her career, her reputation, everything would be destroyed.

So the plan was this: Charlotte needed to play nice. Accept Adam's treatment, fulfill all his perverted and depraved requests, while secretly looking for a loophole. She had to snap Delilah and her daughters out of that madman's grasp. Find a way to fight back without endangering herself.

That was her plan.

But her body, and the darkest, most unwanted corner of her heart... didn't care about that plan.

As she thought about the treatment she would receive from Adam, a shiver that wasn't from fear ran down her spine.

Her mind drifted back to that night—to the weight of Adam's body pinning her down, to the pain mixed with pleasure as he plunged into her to the hilt, to the dirty words whispered in her ear while his rough hands groped and pinched.

Charlotte's lips suddenly felt dry. Her tongue unconsciously licked her lower lip. Between her thighs, beneath her tight business skirt, the dampness grew.

She quickly crossed her legs, trying to suppress the embarrassing sensation. But that movement just made her already sensitive clitoris rub against the fabric, sending a small jolt of pleasure that nearly made her moan.

"Damn... this wretched body..." she hissed to herself, her face flushing.

She hated her body's reaction. Hated how quickly and easily she was triggered by just a name and a simple command. This was shameful conditioning, a reprogramming done by that bastard man through a mix of pain, coercion, and... pleasure she couldn't deny.

She wasn't a woman this lewd.

Her body being like this must be because of that man.

She stood up, somewhat unsteady. Her legs trembled slightly. Moving quickly, she organized the documents on her desk and shut down the computer. Her hands still trembled as she picked up her work bag.

She had to prepare to become a slut.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Ophelia stopped in front of the indecent poster she had seen a few days ago advertising massage services, then opened her phone and typed the number on the poster.

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