Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Bellatrix lay on her back across one of the sofas in the mansion’s private sitting room, one leg hanging over the armrest and a glass of wine resting on her abdomen. Cassandra remained seated in front of the window, reviewing a report she had already read three times without absorbing a single word, while Daniela occupied the rug with her back resting against Scarlet’s armchair.

The mother of the three stood before the mirror, tying up her hair with a calmness that did not match the subject of the conversation.

"How long?" Daniela asked.

Bellatrix turned her face.

"How long what?"

"Since the last time he fucked you."

Cassandra slowly closed the report.

"Daniela."

"What? We are all thinking about it."

Scarlet observed her daughters through the mirror. None of them seemed particularly embarrassed. That family had already survived battles, intrigues, and far too many intimate situations to pretend delicacy inside a locked room.

Bellatrix raised the glass and drank.

"Long enough that I am beginning to consider attacking Strax in the corridor."

"You already do that," Cassandra commented.

"Attacking him for real."

Daniela rested her chin on her knees.

"I am starting to lose patience too. He spends the entire day taking care of Asgard, training, dealing with some ancient threat, or adopting another strange creature that decided to call him master."

Scarlet finished tying her hair.

"He just came out of a war."

"Exactly," Bellatrix replied. "Men should return from wars with accumulated energy."

Cassandra gave her a sideways look.

"Did that conclusion come from some kind of research?"

"It came from my vagina."

Daniela began laughing, but Scarlet merely crossed her legs and rested one hand on the arm of the chair.

"I cannot say she is completely wrong."

All three daughters looked at their mother.

Scarlet remained composed.

"What? I am a woman too. Do you think I enjoy watching Strax enter the bedroom, lie beside me, and fall asleep in less than a minute?"

Daniela tilted her head.

"He did that?"

"Three times."

Bellatrix sat up on the sofa.

"That is criminal."

"The second time, he put his hand around my waist," Scarlet continued. "I thought he had finally understood. Then he started snoring."

Cassandra pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

Scarlet noticed.

"You may laugh. When it happens to you, do not come asking me for advice."

"He did not even reach the bed with me," Cassandra replied. "He said he would return after a meeting with Monica. I waited wearing only one of his shirts."

Daniela’s eyes widened.

"And did he come back?"

"The next morning."

Bellatrix placed a hand over her chest.

"What a tragedy."

"He asked why I had slept without a blanket."

Daniela fell sideways onto the rug, laughing loudly. Cassandra picked up a cushion and threw it at her, but her sister managed to protect her face with her arms.

Scarlet released a small sigh.

"He does not do it maliciously. Strax simply does not notice when he is exhausted."

"I do not want him to notice," Bellatrix said. "I want him to stop thinking and throw me against a wall."

Cassandra looked at her sister.

"The last wall you two used had to be rebuilt."

"Asgard’s construction industry needs continued investment."

Daniela raised herself enough to rest her elbows on the seat of Scarlet’s armchair.

"I do not need a wall. A bed works. A sofa too. A table, if it is empty."

"That table belongs to Monica," Cassandra observed.

"Even better."

Scarlet placed two fingers against her forehead.

"Do not involve Monica in your fantasies."

"You say that as though you do not have fantasies," Bellatrix teased.

Scarlet turned her red eyes toward her daughter.

"I have enough experience that I do not need to describe them."

Bellatrix smiled.

"Then describe the experiences."

Before Scarlet could answer, a magic formation appeared in the center of the room. Frieren emerged inside the circle carrying three books, a metal box, and a small crystal that blinked at irregular intervals.

The four women fell silent.

Frieren looked at Bellatrix on the sofa, Daniela on the floor, Cassandra holding a cushion, and Scarlet wearing the most dignified expression she could manage.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"A family discussion," Scarlet replied.

"About lack of sex," Daniela added.

Cassandra threw the cushion at her.

Frieren dodged without difficulty and did not even appear surprised.

"Have any of you seen Albedo?"

Bellatrix lay back down.

"She went to the main market."

"Why?"

"She was bored," Cassandra replied. "She said she wanted to walk around like an ordinary person."

Frieren looked at the crystal in her hand. The light continued blinking.

"Did she take the communicator?"

"No one managed to convince her," Scarlet replied.

Frieren sighed.

"Naturally."

She reorganized the books in her arms and walked toward the door instead of using another magic formation. Before leaving, she looked once more at the four women.

"Do not destroy the room."

Bellatrix raised her glass.

"We have no one to destroy the room with."

Frieren closed the door without answering.

The silence lasted only two seconds.

Daniela looked back toward Scarlet.

"So, about those experiences."

Scarlet released another sigh.

"The three of you need to learn patience."

"We have already been patient," Bellatrix said. "I have new lingerie stored away for almost two weeks."

Cassandra placed the report on the table.

"I practiced a specific flexibility technique."

Daniela raised an eyebrow.

"For combat?"

Cassandra stared at her.

"No."

Daniela fell silent for a moment, clearly impressed.

Scarlet observed her three daughters and realized that any attempt to turn the conversation into something elegant had been doomed from the beginning.

"When he returns tonight," she said, "we will speak to him directly."

Bellatrix smiled.

"All four of us?"

"Not at the same time."

"Coward."

Scarlet narrowed her eyes.

"Keep provoking me and you will be last."

Bellatrix’s smile disappeared.

"We can organize a fair order."

Daniela raised her hand.

"I vote for drawing lots."

Cassandra crossed her arms.

"I vote for priority based on who has been waiting the longest."

Scarlet leaned back in the armchair.

"I am the mother."

All three daughters protested at the same time.

...

Albedo walked through Asgard’s main market without any visible sign of her demonic origin.

Her horns were hidden beneath a simple illusion. Her hair remained long and black, but without the ornaments she normally wore, and her eyes had lost their supernatural glow, taking on an ordinary black shade. She wore a simple white peasant dress with short sleeves, a gray apron, and discreet leather boots.

It was common clothing in Asgard.

Women from the residential districts wore similar garments to work, visit the market, or travel between nearby villages. Nothing about her drew attention apart from her beauty, and even that was easy to find in a city where different races crossed the same streets every day.

Albedo looked like an ordinary woman.

She hated the feeling.

Not because the clothes were uncomfortable. The fabric was light, clean, and allowed enough movement for combat. The problem was the absence of reactions. No one stepped back when she passed. Merchants did not lower their voices, children did not point toward her horns, and guards did not follow her movements with caution.

For the first time in a long while, she moved through a crowd without being recognized.

And she was bored.

Frieren had asked her to wait in the laboratory while a set of crystals was calibrated. Albedo had endured fifteen minutes of watching the elf reorganize symbols on a board before simply disappearing. Walking through the market had seemed like a better alternative.

After half an hour, even that lost its appeal.

Asgard was too organized.

Guards patrolled in pairs, merchants recorded transactions, and the streets had surveillance crystals placed at strategic points. There were no fights, large scams, or groups of idiots trying to extort money from defenseless vendors.

Albedo began searching for criminals out of pure boredom.

It was not an official mission. No one had hired her or even asked for help. She simply wanted to find something she could beat without causing political problems.

She crossed three streets while observing hands, glances, and changes in direction. Common thieves were not difficult to identify when one knew what to look for. They avoided drawing attention, but they also watched too many purses. They walked without any apparent destination while searching for predictable movements and distracted targets.

The first suspect was merely a young man trying to gather the courage to speak with a female vendor.

The second was hiding sweets stolen from his own mother.

The third was real.

Albedo noticed him near a fabric stall. The man wore simple clothes, a short beard, and a low hat. He stood too close to a woman holding her daughter’s hand while comparing the prices of several colorful fabrics.

The girl appeared to be seven or eight years old. She pointed excitedly toward a blue ribbon while her mother searched for coins inside the purse attached to her waist.

The thief approached from behind.

Two fingers slipped between the purse and the belt. A small blade cut the strap without making any sound, and the purse disappeared beneath his coat.

The woman did not notice.

She continued speaking with her daughter, probably believing the weight still rested beside her body.

Albedo released a small sigh.

"Finally."

She did not alert the guards.

She also did not immediately return the purse.

She merely began following the thief.

The man crossed the market without hurry, avoiding looking back. He passed a fruit stall, circled a group of railway workers, and entered a smaller street between two warehouses. Albedo maintained a comfortable distance, pretending to examine shop windows whenever he slowed.

The thief was slightly better than he looked.

He changed direction twice, stopped before a closed shop, and used the reflection in the window to check whether someone was following him. Albedo was already examining a set of pans at a nearby stall when he looked.

She waited until he resumed walking.

Then continued.

The movement took them away from the busiest part of the market. The shops became smaller, the number of pedestrians decreased, and the surveillance crystals grew farther apart. The thief crossed a narrow street and entered an alley between an abandoned workshop and a grain warehouse.

Albedo stopped at the entrance.

The place was narrow, damp, and partially covered by the buildings’ shadows. Empty crates were stacked along the walls, and a wooden ladder connected the ground to a second-floor window. The smell of dust, wet straw, and rusted metal filled the air.

The thief stood at the back of the alley.

He was not alone.

Four men waited near a side door. One of them accepted the stolen purse and began counting its contents, while another watched the entrance. There were knives at their belts, gang markings on their wrists, and dark stains on their clothes that did not look like mere dirt.

Albedo entered the alley.

The nearest man noticed her presence.

"Are you lost?"

She looked toward the purse in the other man’s hands.

"No."

The thief frowned when he recognized her.

"She was at the market."

All four turned their attention toward Albedo.

The demoness closed her eyes for a moment and smiled.

Her boredom was over.

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