I led Latia through the corridors of the Valac mansion, her hand warm in mine. Her fingers intertwined with my own—a small gesture that felt strangely significant. We moved in silence, the only sound our footsteps against the polished floor and the distant tick of an ancient clock somewhere in the depths of the house.
"Where exactly are we going?" she finally asked, her voice hushed despite the emptiness of the hallway.
"The Shadow Garden." I glanced back at her, noting how the dim lighting of the corridor caught in her eyes. "It's the most secure place on the estate."
"Secure from what?"
"Listening ears. Watching eyes." I squeezed her hand lightly.
We reached a heavy door carved with the Valac family crest—three concentric circles surrounded by intricate shadow patterns. I placed my palm against it, feeling the ancient magic recognize my bloodline. The lock disengaged with a soft click.
"After you," I said, holding the door open.
Latia stepped through, then froze, her breath catching audibly. The Shadow Garden spread before us—a space that existed somewhere between reality and the void. Massive black trees with twisted branches stretched toward a ceiling that mirrored the Underworld's eternal twilight. Paths of crushed obsidian wound through beds of shadow flowers that bloomed and closed in hypnotic rhythm. Stone benches carved with ancient runes dotted the landscape, positioned to create areas of deeper darkness.
"This is..." Latia shook her head, momentarily at a loss for words. "I've read about private family domains, but I've never seen one so fully realized."
"It's been in the family for generations." I closed the door behind us, feeling the familiar rush of power as the garden recognized my presence. The shadows deepened, embracing me like old friends. "Each Valac heir adds their own touch."
"And what did you add?" She turned to me, genuine curiosity in her expression.
I pointed to a section where the path branched off toward a small clearing. "That's mine. Come, I'll show you."
Still holding her hand, I guided her deeper into the garden. The path narrowed, forcing us to walk closer together. The garden responded to our passage, shadow flowers turning to track our movement like curious sentinels.
"The plants are semi-sentient," I explained as one particularly bold bloom reached toward Latia. "They won't harm you while you're with me."
"Fascinating." She reached out with her free hand, allowing the flower to brush against her fingertips. "They're solid, yet simultaneously... not."
"Shadow matter. Neither fully physical nor completely intangible." I watched how carefully she interacted with the garden, treating it with respect rather than fear. "Most visitors find it unsettling."
"I find it beautiful," she said simply.
The path opened into a circular clearing dominated by a massive weeping willow tree, its branches composed of flowing shadow rather than leaves. Beneath it sat a simple stone bench large enough for two people. The ground around it was carpeted with tiny star-shaped flowers that emitted a soft purple glow.
"This is your addition?" Latia asked, looking around with appreciation.
"Yes. My father thinks it's frivolous." I released her hand reluctantly as we reached the bench. "He believes the garden should be used solely for training and meditation."
"And what do you use it for?"
"Thinking. Planning." I sat down, patting the space beside me. "Escaping, when necessary."
She joined me, arranging her dress. The shadow willow's branches swayed gently above us despite the absence of wind, creating patterns of deeper darkness across her face.
"So," I said, "your prize. The truth about me."
Latia turned slightly, facing me more directly. "I'm listening."
I studied her for a long moment, weighing options and risks. Her eyes revealed genuine interest without malice—a rarity in devil society.
"First, I need to know why you're asking. What made you suspect there's more to me than what I show the world?"
She considered the question, tapping her closed fan against her palm in that thoughtful gesture I was growing to recognize.
"It was during our first dinner," she said finally. "When we discussed magical theory. You made an observation about the Evil Piece system—about the conversion algorithms not accounting for power evolution. That insight..." She shook her head slightly. "That's not something a dilettante would notice. It showed both depth of understanding and careful analysis."
"Maybe I just repeated something I overheard."
"No." Her certainty was absolute. "The way you explained it was original thinking. And then there's how you play soul chess—strategic, patient, calculating. Nothing like your public persona."
A shadow flower bloomed between us on the bench, its petals unfurling slowly. Latia watched it with fascination.
"What I'm about to tell you," I said, "stays between us."
"Of course."
"No." I shook my head. "I need more than a casual assurance. Devil society runs on information and leverage. What I'm considering sharing would be valuable to the right people."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't trust me."
"I don't trust anyone completely."
She nodded, understanding rather than offense in her expression. "What would make you comfortable enough to share?"
"A binding contract." I held her gaze steadily. "Between just the two of us."
"That's... significant." She absently stroked the shadow flower with one fingertip. "Binding contracts aren't entered into lightly."
"I know."
Silence descended as she considered the proposal. The garden seemed to hold its breath around us, the rhythmic pulse of the shadow flora slowing.
"What would the terms be?" she asked finally.
"Simple. What I reveal remains exclusively between us unless I explicitly release you from the obligation. No documentation, no research notes, no 'theoretical discussions' with your uncle."
"And in return?"
I smiled. "You get the satisfaction of knowing something no one else does."
She laughed. "Not a particularly balanced exchange."
"Knowledge is its own currency," I countered. "Especially in our world."
She studied me, her eyes shifting from emerald to turquoise in the garden's unique light. "I accept your terms."
"You're certain?"
"Yes." She extended her hand toward me, palm up. "Let's formalize it."
I placed my hand over hers, calling forth a small measure of power. A circle of purple light formed around our joined hands, symbols of ancient devil language appearing within it.
"I, Latia Astaroth, agree to keep all information shared by Dante Valac during this conversation in absolute confidence, sharing with no other being through any means, until explicitly released from this obligation."
"I, Dante Valac, agree to share truthful information as requested by Latia Astaroth as prize for her victory in our game."
The circle brightened, then contracted, sinking into our skin with a brief flash of heat. The contract was sealed.
I released her hand but remained close, our knees nearly touching on the bench. "Ask your questions."
"Why do you hide your intelligence?" Her question came immediately, as if she'd been holding it ready.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "The simplest answer? Because it's useful. People underestimate me, share information they shouldn't, dismiss me as a threat."
"And the complex answer?"
I smiled, appreciating her perception. "I feel... constrained here. In the Underworld, in devil society. The constant politics, the centuries-old grudges, the rigid hierarchies—it's suffocating."
"You want to leave?" She seemed genuinely surprised.
"Eventually. At least for a while." I gestured around us. "Even this garden, beautiful as it is, is just another gilded cage. I want—" I stopped, surprised by the force of emotion behind my words.
"What do you want, Dante?" Her voice softened, encouraging.
"Freedom. The chance to relax, to be myself without constantly calculating the political implications of every word and gesture." I laughed quietly. "To just... chill, as humans say."
"I understand that better than you might think." She glanced up at the shadow willow above us. "The weight of expectations can be crushing."
"Exactly." I turned toward her more fully. "There's something else I could share, but it would require an additional clause in our contract."
Her eyebrow raised, curiosity evident. "What clause?"
"That you'll never use the information against me or my family, regardless of future political alignments or personal disagreements."
She considered this for a moment. "That's reasonable. I agree."
Another brief flash of purple light sealed the additional term.
I took a deep breath, making a final decision. "I possess an ability that could potentially make me the strongest devil in existence."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Stronger than the Satans?"
"Potentially. Eventually." I nodded. "It's called Essence Drain. It's a hereditary Valac ability that few outside our family know exists and even fewer possess. Paired with my mother's void sight, it makes me a One of One."
"What does it do?" Her voice dropped to a near whisper, though we were completely alone.
"It allows me to absorb magical power directly from others through physical contact." I watched her expression carefully. "Not just temporarily, like energy vampirism, but permanently. I can assimilate aspects of others' abilities and make them my own."
"That's..." She shook her head, processing the implications. "The strategic applications would be extraordinary."
"They would. But there's more to it." I hesitated, then decided on complete honesty. "The ability reaches peak efficiency during moments of... intimate contact."
A blush crept across her cheeks. "Intimate?"
"The more intimate the contact, the more complete the energy transfer."
"Fascinating." She leaned forward slightly. "How does it work exactly?"
"My eyes manifest three circles with void sight, and I create a metaphysical connection that draws energy from the other person into myself." I watched her expression shift from academic interest to something more personal. "It's not painful—quite the opposite, actually. Both participants experience... intense sensations."
"You've used it before?" Her voice held a note I hadn't heard from her previously—something beyond mere curiosity.
"Only on one person." I shrugged. "I'm still learning to control it."
She bit her lower lip, a gesture so uncharacteristically vulnerable that it caught me off guard. "Could you... demonstrate?"
"That's not a request I expected from the logical, analytical Latia Astaroth."
"Scientific curiosity."
"Of course." I smiled. "Scientific curiosity."
"Would it harm me?"
"No. I can control how much I take." I shifted closer. "And I wouldn't take anything permanently without explicit consent."
She nodded, her breathing slightly elevated. "Then yes. Show me."
"I'll need physical contact." I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Lips or neck?"
She swallowed visibly. "Neck."
I moved closer, my hand gently tilting her head to expose the elegant curve of her throat. Her pulse fluttered visibly beneath the pale skin. I leaned in, my lips hovering just above her neck.
"Ready?" I whispered, my breath warm against her skin.
She nodded wordlessly, her hands clutching the edge of the bench.
I brushed my lips against the delicate skin of her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath them. As my mouth made contact, I allowed my power to rise within me. The familiar sensation of my eyes transforming—three concentric circles manifesting in each iris—sent a ripple of energy down my spine.
The connection formed instantly—far more potent than I'd anticipated. Her essence rushed toward me like a current breaking through a dam, rich and intoxicating. Unlike Ariel's fiery nature, Latia's essence carried complex patterns of intertwined formulas and equations, mathematical perfection layered with creative intuition.
"Oh..." Latia gasped, her body stiffening against mine.
I drew in just a small measure of her power, enough to demonstrate but not enough to take anything permanently. The taste of her essence flooded my senses—like drinking liquid starlight, brilliant and effervescent.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders, body arching involuntarily. "Mmm—" she tried to stifle the sound, biting her lower lip hard enough to leave marks.
I steadied her with one hand at her waist, the other still cradling her neck. The garden responded to our energy, shadow flowers opening all around us, the willow's branches coiling closer.
"Ah!" A sharper sound escaped her as I drew in slightly more power. Her hands clutched at my back, nails digging through the fabric of my shirt.
"D-Dante—" Her voice broke on my name, the careful composure she always maintained shattering completely. "Ngh!"
I pulled back slightly, giving her a moment to breathe. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, the blue tips of her hair shimmering with magical energy.
"Too much?" I asked, my voice rougher than intended.
"No—" She shook her head, eyes struggling to focus. "It's... hah... it's just..."
She couldn't finish her sentence. Instead, she grabbed my collar and pulled me back to her neck, a wordless demand. The unexpected aggression surprised me—and aroused me beyond reason.
I returned to her neck, this time without restraint. The connection deepened immediately, her essence flooding into me with breathtaking intensity.
"Ahh!" She cried out, no longer attempting to stifle her reactions.
Her moans grew louder, echoing through the Shadow Garden. The sound dangerous—if anyone heard, explanations would be impossible.
I lifted my head from her neck and captured her mouth with mine, muffling her cries. The kiss transformed the energy transfer, intensifying it beyond anything I'd experienced with Ariel.
She kissed back with unexpected hunger, her tongue meeting mine as her hands tangled in my hair. The bench beneath us disappeared as we slid to the soft ground, shadow flowers parting to make space for our bodies.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against her. The position aligned our bodies perfectly, creating new contact points that amplified the energy transfer to dangerous levels.
"Mmm!" Her muffled cry vibrated against my mouth as her back arched, pressing her chest against mine.
The garden responded to our energy, shadows deepening around us, creating a cocoon of privacy. The shadow willow's branches twisted overhead, blocking out what little light filtered through.
I broke the kiss, gasping for air, struggling to maintain control. Her eyes were glowing faintly—an effect of the essence transfer—and her perfectly arranged hair had come undone, blonde strands with blue tips splayed across the shadowy ground.
"Dante—" She panted my name, her voice completely transformed—husky and raw. "What's happening?"
With monumental effort, I pulled back, severing the connection. The sudden absence of the flow between us left both of us shaking.
"That," I said, trying to steady my breathing, "was Essence Drain."
She stared up at me, her analytical mind visibly struggling to reconcile the intellectual understanding with the physical experience. I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of our compromising position—her legs still wrapped around my waist, my body pressed intimately against hers.
"That was..." She swallowed, her throat working. "Something."
I moved to disentangle myself, but her legs tightened, holding me in place.
"No," she said. "Stay. Just... give me a moment."
I nodded, supporting my weight on my forearms to avoid crushing her. We remained like that, breathing heavily, as the garden gradually returned to its normal state around us.
"Is it always that intense?" she finally asked, her voice steadier.
"No." I shook my head. "That was... exceptional."
"Because of me?" A hint of her usual confidence returned.
"Yes. Your essence is particularly potent. And compatible."
She considered this, her eyes regaining their analytical sharpness despite our intimate position. "Is it a form of mind control?"
I laughed softly. "Always the theoretician. Even now."
"Answer the question." Her legs finally relaxed, allowing me to shift to her side. We lay facing each other on the ground, surrounded by softly glowing shadow flowers.
"No, it's not mind control." I propped myself up on one elbow. "The way the power works, I get more essence from someone who willingly gives themselves to me. The more physically and emotionally in sync both parties are, the more... pleasurable the experience."
"Fascinating." Her fan appeared in her hand—a reflexive gesture of composure. "So consent isn't just ethical, it's mechanically optimal."
"Exactly." I reached out, gently taking the fan from her hand and setting it aside. "Your scientific mind is showing again."
She smiled, a slight blush returning to her cheeks. "It helps me process what just happened."
"And what exactly did happen, from your perspective?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"It felt like..." She paused, searching for words. "Like you were touching every part of me simultaneously. Physical and magical. As if you found a frequency that resonated perfectly with my essence and amplified it."
"That's surprisingly poetic for a mathematician."
"Mathematics is poetry for those who understand its language." She sat up, attempting to smooth her disheveled hair. "What did you experience?"
I considered how much to reveal. "Your essence tastes like perfect equations—complex but elegant. Each formula interlocking with others in precise patterns."
She looked pleased. "And Ariel's?"
"How did you know about Ariel?" I narrowed my eyes.
"Logical deduction. You mentioned having used this ability on one person previously." She shrugged, her composure returning by degrees. "Given your close relationship with your maid and the nature of this ability, she seemed the most likely candidate."
I sighed. "Yes, it was Ariel. Her essence is chaotic but powerful."
"Better or worse than mine?" A competitive edge crept into her voice.
"Different," I hedged diplomatically.
"Liar." She smirked. "Mine was better."
I laughed, surprised by this playful side of her. "Fine. Yours was more... intoxicating."
She nodded, satisfied. Her fingers absently traced patterns on the ground between us. "Could you have taken more? Permanently?"
"Yes. But I wouldn't without explicit consent."
"What would happen if you did?"
"I could probably gain a portion of your magical abilities—your formula manipulation, your elemental transmutation. The knowledge of how to use them would transfer along with the power."
"And I would lose those abilities?"
"Not at all. Think of it like copying a portion rather than removing it entirely. You'd experience temporary magical exhaustion, but recovery would be complete in a day or two."
She tilted her head, studying me with renewed interest. "With this ability, given enough time and the right... donors... you could become virtually unstoppable."
"Theoretically." I sat up, matching her position. "But power has never been my primary goal."
"What is, then?"
I smiled enigmatically. "That would require another game to reveal."
She laughed. "I'll win again."
"Perhaps." I stood, offering my hand to help her up. "But not today."
She accepted my hand, rising gracefully despite her rumpled appearance. As she stood, I noticed the shadow flowers had left faint purple marks on her dress—evidence of our encounter that would be difficult to explain.
"Your dress," I pointed out.
She glanced down, then waved her hand. A Magic circle briefly appeared in the air, and the marks vanished.
"Useful trick," I commented.
"I developed it after an unfortunate incident with experimental potions in my lab." She picked up her fan, snapping it open. "Will you teach me more about this ability? The theoretical applications are fascinating."
"Is that scientific curiosity speaking again?" I teased.
Her eyes met mine, unexpectedly direct. "Not entirely."
The admission hung between us, reshaping the space we shared. Something had fundamentally changed between us—a connection formed that transcended our political alliance.
"We should return," I said finally. "Before we're missed."
She nodded, composing herself fully. Within moments, she once again looked like the perfect Astaroth heiress—hair immaculate, posture precise, expression controlled.
Only the lingering brightness in her eyes hinted at what had transpired.