“That red potion...”

Muen stared at the crimson bottle in Anne’s hand. Just one glance, and he knew—it was identical to the one he’d bought from the mysterious shopkeeper.

But what he didn’t know... was why Anne had it.

Could it be...

A cloaked figure flashed through Muen’s memory—shrouded in black robes...

...

...

“I’m not drinking it! I’m not drinking it!!”

After what happened with ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ Celicia, Muen had learned not just how humiliating it was to be pinned down and ravaged by a woman—he’d also learned a terrifying piece of knowledge he’d never known before.

That Evil Dragon’s Blood, mixed with Serpentgrass Powder, created a monstrous drug.

An aphrodisiacal poison!

One even Celicia couldn’t withstand. A substance known to be incurable!

“I’ll never drink that!”

Muen thrashed madly. He knew it—if he swallowed that potion, no matter how firm his resolve, there’d be no escaping the tragic ending that followed.

“Young Master, do you really think you still have the right to resist?”

Anne didn’t seem angry at all as she watched Muen flail and whip his head side to side like he’d die before ever taking a sip.

Instead, she smiled gently... and suddenly tilted the pink liquid to her lips and drank it all down.

“Eh?”

Muen froze.

Wasn’t that... meant for me? Why’d you drink it?

But before he could make sense of it, Anne’s delicate hand suddenly reached out—grabbing Muen’s chin with force.

“Mm—?!”

It hurt.

Muen’s eyes widened in shock and fear, unable to believe it.

What had seized his jaw didn’t feel like the soft fingers of a young girl—but like iron pincers that could crush stone.

His head was locked in place, and Anne leaned down—kissing him without the slightest hesitation.

“Mmmph! Mmmph!!”

Muen’s eyes went even wider, to the point where it felt like the corners were about to rip open. He could feel the warmth of Anne’s lips, the beauty of her touch—and worse, the way her supple, agile little tongue was invading, relentlessly storming the last fortress of his mouth.

Damn it all!!

Like hell I’m surrendering that easily!

Muen clenched his teeth, a gate of stone barring Anne’s insane siege. Even if nearly every bit of ground had fallen—even if this was the last wall left—he couldn’t let it go!

History had proven it again and again: surrendering too soon to the enemy always ended in disaster.

“Tch.”

A flicker of irritation finally flashed across Anne’s eyes as Muen held out with everything he had.

Crack.

A strange sound reached Muen’s ears.

It was like... a dislocated joint.

Then—blinding pain.

“MMPH!!”

Muen began writhing again in agony. Anne’s hand—still clamped on his chin—was forcing his jaw open, little by little, prying apart what he thought was an impregnable gate.

Crack crack crack crack...

His jaw wailed in protest. And then Muen remembered—this was how Anne had crushed a porcelain teacup into powder. With just one hand.

I’m finished.

Despair twisted across Muen’s face.

No matter how strong his will, how unshakable his mind... it meant nothing when his opponent was a superhuman maid capable of tearing down literal gates with her bare hands.

Seriously, why the hell are all of you people so absurd? Especially you, Anne—you’ve been my personal maid for years, and I’ve never once seen you train!

But those questions had no answers now.

As tears of regret welled at the corners of his eyes, Muen understood only one thing...

The gate... had fallen.

That snake-like, flexible tongue eagerly slithered into his mouth, ravaging what it claimed as spoils—and with it came the faintly sweet potion.

There was no resisting it now. The drug was in his mouth—forced down his throat—and Muen swallowed it.

The moment it hit his stomach, a fog rushed to his head.

Of course. It was worth 130,000 Amiels, after all. A dose that could drop even Celicia in seconds—so what hope did he have?

But this time, the dizziness only lasted an instant.

Because something even more terrifying surged through his body next—a searing heat that snapped his consciousness awake.

“Don’t worry, Young Master,” Anne whispered gently, “I adjusted the ratio of Evil Dragon’s Blood and Serpentgrass. You won’t pass out this time.”

She smiled sweetly.

“It’s just... some other effects might be a little stronger.”

Other effects?

What other effects?!

Say it clearly, dammit!

...No. Forget it. I already know.

Muen slumped against the wall like a salted fish dried under the sun for eighty-one days. His eyes were blank. Hollow.

He had stopped resisting. There was nothing left.

Because in just a few shallow breaths, the terrifying heat had begun to fry his brain.

Even his breathing turned heavy. Ragged.

“Mm.”

Anne glanced down between Muen’s legs and smiled in satisfaction.

“Looks like it’s working.”

She began slowly peeling off her maid uniform, until only a lacy black undergarment remained.

And Muen... his eyes were locked onto her body. Burning. Greedy. Like a starving wolf.

“Hehe.”

Anne didn’t rush.

She reached out, slowly removing Muen’s clothing piece by piece. Her slender fingers brushed his skin as she worked, sending waves of goosebumps that only intensified the drug’s effect.

“Well, Young Master... do you want it now?”

“...”

Muen’s eyes were bloodshot, reason nearly gone. He strained forward, trying to lunge at her—but the shackles held him fast.

“G... give it to me.”

The voice that rasped from his throat was low. Hoarse.

“Hurry... give it... I can’t... it’s so hot...”

“Oh my, are you falling apart already?” Anne chuckled softly.

“Looks like I overdid the dosage just a bit.”

“Ggh... gimme...”

“Too bad. You still can’t have it.”

Anne’s smile turned wicked, as though she’d just had the most brilliant idea.

“Can’t...?”

Muen blinked, stunned.

The drug was tearing through his nerves, tormenting him every second. He wanted—no, needed—to pounce on her, to pin her down and take her.

The heat was so monstrous, Muen genuinely feared that if he didn’t vent it soon, he’d be completely devoured by the fire of desire.

And now she says he can’t?

“Why... why not?”

“Because, Young Master,” she whispered, leaning into his ear, “I can still see resistance in your eyes.”

The virgin scent on her body hit him like venom. Muen felt like he was going to explode.

But Anne kept her distance, hovering just out of reach.

“The obedience I want... isn’t something a drug can create.”

“...What... do you mean...”

“Come now, Young Master,” she cooed, voice dripping with temptation.

“Become mine. Completely.”

Her tone wrapped around him like silk.

“If you become my property, I’ll let you be free.”

“Free...?”

“That’s right. It’ll feel amazing.”

Gulp. “A-Amazing...”

Muen swallowed hard. It was as if her words held some kind of unholy gravity, dragging his mind deeper in.

“Repeat after me,” she said gently.

Muen’s eyes were losing the last traces of defiance. Anne smiled.

“I, Muen Campbell, swear to become Anne’s property. I will never leave Anne.”

“I... Muen Campbell...”

Somewhere inside him, a voice cried out: Don’t do it. Don’t—

That if he said it... he’d lose something precious. Irreplaceable.

But his mind was already drowning in fire. That voice had long since been silenced.

“...swear... to become... Anne’s... property... never... leave... Anne...”

“That’s my good Young Master,” Anne whispered, satisfied.

And with that vow, she peeled away the final piece of fabric from her body.

She embraced Muen, who was already trembling with unbearable hunger—and slowly, deliberately, lowered herself onto him.

“Mn...”

A sound that blurred pain and pleasure echoed softly in the dark prison cell.

And then—

Spring bloomed in full.