Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 330: I’ll Do It Myself

Brandon walked through the palace corridors with hands in pockets, humming tunelessly to himself.

Polished obsidian walls. Purple-flame torches that cast everything in perpetual twilight. Carpets that absorbed sound. The kind of wealth that came from ruling an entire realm.

"Enjoyed your little show?"

He paused mid-step. Turned his head.

A girl leaned against the wall perhaps twenty feet away, positioned where she could observe without being immediately noticed. She’d been waiting for him. Watching.

Nineteen years old, maybe.

Black hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves that suggested she’d stopped caring about elaborate styling.

Her clothing was practical rather than decorative, fitted black pants, dark tunic with silver accents, everything designed for movement rather than court appearances.

But the cut emphasized a figure that had filled out from the toddler Alaric had seen earlier, curves that spoke of young woman rather than child, though she carried herself with the kind of rigid control that suggested discomfort with attention that body drew.

And her eyes...

Crimson. Deep, blood-red crimson that matched Brandon’s exactly, was staring at him with intensity that felt accusatory.

"Yo! Elara!" Brandon’s voice was cheerful, easy, carrying none of the tension radiating from his sister. He waved, still grinning from his earlier escape.

"Didn’t see you there."

Elara’s eyes narrowed. She clicked her tongue, which made a sharp and dismissive sound.

"Of course you didn’t," she said, her voice carrying edge sharp enough to cut. "Why would you notice anyone besides your little chicks?"

The word "chicks" was dripped with contempt.

Brandon’s grin didn’t falter. He stepped closer, his movements relaxed, unbothered by her hostility. "They’re just friends, Ellie—"

"Friends who you kiss?" She pushed off from the wall, her posture aggressive. "Friends who you spend every waking moment with while the rest of us—"

"Ellie, are you..." Brandon interrupted, still smiling. He leaned in closer. Invaded her personal space with casual confidence of someone who knew exactly how to get under her skin.

His voice dropped lower. Almost a whisper. Definitely audible.

"You’re just jealous, my little sister~"

Elara’s entire face flushed. Crimson spreading across her cheeks, her ears, down her neck. Her crimson eyes went wide.

"W-What?!" She stammered, taking involuntary step backward.

Brandon leaned in even closer, his grin widening. His voice became a murmur, intimate, teasing, cruel in its accuracy.

"How you’re jealous of them. Because they get my attention. They get my affection. They get to taste my lips..." His crimson eyes gleamed with mischief. While my poor little sister has to watch from the sidelines, all alone, wishing she—"

"Of course not!" Elara’s voice cracked. She shoved him backward with both hands, hard enough to actually move him. "Are you out of your mind?! I’m not.... I would never... that’s disgusting!"

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her jaw was tight enough to crack teeth. Her crimson eyes blazed with fury and embarrassment in equal measure.

Brandon just laughed. Stepped back easily from her shove, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction.

"Relax, Ellie. I’m just—"

"Here you are," Elara cut him off, her voice dropping lower. Harder. "Grinning like an idiot. Playing your games. Flirting with demons. Having fun."

Her hands trembled slightly.

"While I... while we... should’ve—"

She stopped. Looked away. Her jaw working as she tried to find words that wouldn’t break her.

"Don’t you even care what’s happening around us?" Her voice was quieter now. Almost pleading. "Don’t you even care about Aunt Lilith? About what she’s been doing for us? About what she’s risking by keeping us here after—"

She cut herself off again. Shook her head violently.

"Never mind." Her voice went flat. Empty. "Go. Fuck whoever you want. I don’t need you. I can do this alone."

She turned and walked away. Her footsteps echoing down the corridor until she turned a corner and disappeared.

Brandon watched her go, his earlier grin fading into something more complicated.

He sighed. Ran one hand through his dark hair, disheveling it further.

"I just wanted to have a little fun with my little sister," he muttered to himself. "Didn’t think she’d—"

He stopped. Let the sentence die unfinished.

The corridor felt emptier now. Colder, despite the purple flames crackling in their sconces. He could still hear the echo of her footsteps fading into distance, each one like a small accusation.

His hand found the teardrop pendant at his neck, fingers traced its familiar shape, smooth and warm against his skin.

She wasn’t entirely wrong. He knew that.

The casual affection he scattered around like loose change... it was easier than dealing with everything else. Easier than thinking about what they’d lost. What they’d left behind.

What they might never get back.

But Elara didn’t understand.

Then suddenly, he felt a powerful presence behind him.

His entire posture shifted. Relaxed playfulness disappearing, replaced by alert readiness.

"What?" he said without turning around. His voice was flat. Professional.

Behind him, he heard the sound of someone dropping to one knee. Formal gesture. Military precision.

"Lord Brandon," a voice spoke from the kneeling position. Male. Deep. Carrying respect and slight nervousness. "Lady Lilith has summoned you."

Brandon’s crimson eyes closed briefly.

Of course she has.

"When?" he asked, still not turning.

"Immediately, my lord. She’s waiting in her private chambers."

Silence stretched for several heartbeats.

Then Brandon’s eyes opened. He turned to face the messenger, a demon soldier in formal armor, still kneeling, head bowed respectfully.

"Tell her I’ll be there shortly," Brandon said. His tone carried authority that seemed wrong coming from someone so young. "I need to change first."

"My lord, she specified immediately—"

"I heard you." Brandon’s voice didn’t rise. Didn’t need to. "I’ll be there. Five minutes. Tell her that."

The messenger hesitated, clearly weighing orders from Lilith against orders from someone who, despite his youth, carried considerable authority in the palace.

"...Yes, my lord." He stood, bowed, and retreated quickly.

Brandon stood alone in the corridor, staring at the direction Elara had gone.

His hand moved unconsciously to the teardrop pendant at his neck. Touched it. Drew some kind of comfort or strength from its presence.

Then he sighed again and turned toward his quarters.

"Let’s see what Aunt Lily wants this time," he muttered.