Inside a lavish room filled with expensive decoratives and furnishings, someone could be seen sleeping on a mahogany bed, comfortably nestled in silken sheets.
The ambiance was serene, laden with the calming aroma of lavender and faint traces of smoldered incense.
A gentle hum buzzed in the distance, as if the very walls breathed in rhythm with the room, accompanied by the occasional, delicate jingle of a wind chime swaying far away.
The figure was none other than Raven who began to stir awake from his comfortable sleep.
He let out a languid yawn, rubbing his eyelids still heavy with sleep.
A dryness tugged at his tongue, and instinctively, he smacked his lips, then ran his tongue across them in a half-hearted attempt to ease the growing thirst.
His hand wandered up to caress his throat, fingers brushing his skin as if trying to soothe an itch he couldn't place.
With a groggy grunt, he pushed against the bed to sit upright…..but his body refused.
He faltered, confusion flickering across his face as he realized something was off.
Something was holding him down.
Or maybe snuggling?
Something warm and cuddly.
He yawned, not alarmed.
"Ngh… Move, Nemu," he mumbled, voice gravelly from sleep.
He scrunched his face, not even bothering to look.
After all, it was probably just his annoying little ghost bear again.
The damn spirit had a nasty habit of snuggling him in his sleep like a needy pet, and no amount of scolding ever worked.
Sure, It was cute. But it was also hella clingy.
Except…
Wasn't he a bit heavier today?
"Nemu," he repeated, this time with a little more annoyance.
"You're really pushing your luck here."
No response came back.
Well…..except for the sensation on his neck.
A sniff.
Followed by a gentle lick
"…Oyee."
Another lick.
"H-Hahaha—WHAT the hell are you doing, you bastard?! I swear I will—!"
He froze midway, and his brain began to lag.
Something was wrong...very wrong.
His hand began to tremble as they reached for something.
What they found was… no fluff.
But something...
Much fleshier.
Far rounder.
And significantly thicker.
A terrible foreboding began to churn in Raven's stomach, like a storm foreboding.
'No, No, No.'
This wasn't the comforting fluff of his ghost bear companion, instead it was a new sensation.
But… hauntingly familiar.
With a slow, cautious squeeze—
A sensual moan fluttered into the air like silk over glass.
"Mhm… Be gentle, Darling~"
Raven's brain crashed hard.
Like a peasant's cart careening off a cliff in winter.
His spine stiffened. His soul quietly drafted its resignation letter.
"…N-Nemu?" Raven croaked, weak from denial and praying for the impossible.
Sure, Nemu couldn't talk.
But maybe, just maybe, the ghost bear had learned?
Maybe he was just extra fluffy and hormonal today?
'Yeah. Maybe Nemu moans now. Sniffs and licks necks. And smells like vanilla and sin.'
"Wrong guess," came the purring response, sensuous and warm, with breath fanning across his ear like fire bathed in honey.
"…I'm gonna die," he whispered to no one in particular, his voice hollow with fate-acceptance.
With strength summoned from the primal fear of divine punishment, he shoved the intruder back, his hands landing on soft, scandalously smooth shoulders.
He opened his eyelids quickly.
And there she was.
The 'Madame's' daughter.
A pale, forbidden beauty, lounging before him like a goddess of chaos itself, her eyes glimmering with devilish delight.
Her silver hair shimmered under the low light of the dawn, while she gave him a lovely smile with her velvet lips stained faintly crimson— wait was that blood?
'Oye! That's my blood, isn't it?!' Raven screamed in his head, his eye twitching hard enough to spark a migraine.
Unconcerned, the vampiric woman drew her tongue across her lips, brushing away the last crimson drop like a spoiled cat finishing off stolen cream.
Then, as if to twist the knife even further, her gaze fell, lower, and slowly drifted back up with a raised brow and an unlawful grin.
"Want my help, Darling~?" she purred.
And at her words—
His 'son', the eager, backstabbing traitor, stood proud and tall, saluting the oncoming doom like a knight ready to betray his king for a kiss.
'You bastard, how dare you betray me!' Raven cursed internally, glaring down with the rage of a man whose last loyal soldier had turned turncoat at the sight of cleavage.
'And why the fuck I am her darling?!'
But he halted his inner monologue instantly.
And blinked.
A sudden realization dawned on him amidst the haze of confusion and chaos.
Hold up. Wait a damn minute!
He looked down, momentarily forgetting the silver-haired succubus-in-training coiled sweetly in his lap.
With fingers trembling like a man approaching a cursed relic, he reached for his waistband and lifted the hem of his pants.
Gasp.
"W-Who are you?! You are not my 'son'!" he blurted, recoiling in disbelief.
Holy Moly!
Instead of his perfectly average, well-behaved son, there was a freakin' bat in his boxers.
A bat. With bulging veins and the enthusiasm of a muscle freak.
"Pft~ ha ha!"
Laughter burst out like silver bells from the woman in front of him.
Raven snapped his head toward her, ready to unleash every curse in his gutter-bred vocabulary at the smug, vampiric succubus.
But when he saw her expression,
That cute, amused grin paired with a pair of sleepy, yet mischievous eyes—
His anger died before it could even leave his throat.
"Tch," he scoffed, looking away in mock offense.
But unfortunately, his gaze wandered….
Her clothing, while modest by boudoir standards, was simply a loose shirt and casual hot trousers, yet it displayed smooth thighs and the exquisite curve of a pale neck that virtually gleamed in the dim light. His throat clenched.
That thirst returned.
The same one that nagged at the back of his mind when his tongue felt dry and his heartbeat increased gradually.
He gulped.
The woman grinned, as if reading his soul, with delight in her eyes.
"Of course your body would react like this," she said, her tone velvety and warm.
"You've been in a slumber for over two years, after all."
She dropped a bomb calmly, as if she were talking about a nap rather than an entire two years.
Raven's head snapped towards her. His mouth dropped open.
He looked like he had just been hit with a frozen fish.
Two years?!
'Did she just say a freakin' two years?!'
The weight of those words slammed into him like a hammer forged by the gods of disbelief and dread.
His face distorted, and his eyes narrowed at her as if he were gazing at a bad joke.
He didn't have the strength to yell, but his countenance yelled for him.
'Cut the crap!' It appeared to say.
However, the woman did not flinch.
Didn't blink.
She only held his stare with an inscrutable smile.
At this moment, Raven was able to tell right now.
This woman-
She was speaking the truth.
"........"
In the next second, he sprung out of bed as if on fire, accidently tossing the silver-haired woman from his lap.
She let out a surprised yelp as she landed on the mattress, but Raven didn't notice because he had his full attention on himself.
He staggered for a moment, trying to regain his footing… and paused.
Something felt off.
The floor felt lower than usual.
No… not shorter.
He was taller!
It hit him with the weight of a falling building.
He'd grown!
At least one feet, or maybe more.
He looked down at his hands, turning them over.
They were longer than he remembered.
Smoother.
Not the kind of hands that scraped through trash or climbed broken fire escapes.
The usual dry cracks and grime were gone.
His skin looked clean.
Almost too clean.
He frowned, bringing one arm closer.
There was a definition now.
A bit of shape.
He pressed his palms to his chest, expecting ribs.
But what his hands met were firm muscles.
'What the hell?'
"You can see yourself in the mirror over there," the vampire woman said, like she was commenting on the weather.
He followed her finger to the tall mirror across the room.
Didn't say anything.
Just walked over, still half in disbelief.
And there it was.
"What the actual f—"
He choked on his own sentence as he stared at the stranger in the mirror.