’It’s not there...?!

She was left without result.

Pulling her face back and disconnecting their lips, Lillian began to massage Marionette’s breast even firmer, trying to check again. But like before, she was left disappointed.

Lillian let out a sigh and concluded:

’She must’ve hid it somewhere already... But where...?’

Originally, her plan was to seduce Marionette and retrieve her spatial ring after she became too distracted to know what was going on. But obviously, not everything can go as easily as people want it to.

Sitting down on Marionette’s hips, Lillian began wiping her lips clean of saliva, unknowingly letting go of Marionette’s wrists and releasing her.

Lillian, who was about to fall into deep thought about the possible whereabouts of her ring, felt a hand clutch the collar of her pyjama before forcibly pulling her in.

Managing to resist the pull, Lillian found herself met with a gulping sight.

Marionette’s face was completely red and sweaty from excitement; her lips were wet with saliva, just like Lillian’s were; and her hair stuck to her face due to the sweat.

Her eyes were filled with lust for Lillian, and her lips were widely curled upwards into a silly smile.

To say she was stunningly gorgeous and exciting to look at was an understatement. It was to the point where Lillian froze, only able to gulp from her girlfriend’s lecherous expression.

Lillian then heard Marionette whisper in a deep voice:

"Looking for your ring, aren’t you~...? Did you think I wouldn’t think of you coming up with an idea to steal it back~?"

The Rabbit was left stunned, her mouth gaping slightly.

She then closed her mouth and lampooned self-deprecatingly.

’How embarrassing...’ Lillian thought with a wry smile, having already accepted the outcome.

"It would’ve worked, right? As long as you didn’t think it?" Lillian asked with a cheeky grin.

Marionette blinked, then licked her lips as she pulled Lillian closer in. Next, she whispered seductively:

"Who knows~..."

Dragging Lillian back into their kiss, they began to tussle around - throwing their clothes off and tangling with each other’s limbs as Lillian had planned initially.

Chu!

Lillian wasn’t that upset over her plan not working. Besides her items, there wasn’t much she needed from it. All she really needed was the [Flag of Reclamation].

Chu!

Although she wasn’t sure where the True Darkness had disappeared off to, she knew that it was still having an effect on Marionette’s mind. And thus, that was where the flag came in.

Chu!

With its enchantment to lessen the effect of Corruption, it would allow Marionette to regain control, which should be enough for Lillian to convince her to drink her blood.

But of course, given the situation, that wasn’t going to work.

She had also thought about trying to convince Marionette to wear the [Soul Sovereign’s Robe], which would also have a similar effect on reducing the Corruption’s control. But concluded it wouldn’t work.

The Corruption would most likely sense the hostile effects the robe would have on it, just like how it had figured out her blood would have a negative effect on it as well.

This was something Lillian had figured out after her time down in the basement with a few logical guesses.

’Oh, well... I’ll just have to figure out another way then...’

Chu. Chu. Chu.

’But right now...’

Sitting on Marionette’s lap, both the Rabbit and Assassin enjoyed themselves in each other’s mouths; their eyes shaped like hearts as their love for one another grew exponentially more.

’Right now, if I can’t get what I want, I should at least give Marionette what she wants~...’

Chu!

...

While the two ladies were having an intimate moment, Damien had finished one of his own.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, he wrapped his robe around him, making sure to hide his nude body and, importantly, his "little" brother.

He then glanced back, looking at the nude body of the maid from this morning, her body wet with sweat, and she was deeply panting from their time.

"Haa... Haa... Haa..."

Damien had thought about inviting a few of the nobles who came here over, but decided against it. Although he had a strong physique, the deep scar on his soul left him extremely fatigued and with a throbbing headache.

He glanced down at the necklace wrapped around his neck, watching as it glowed faintly with a ghostly aura. To treat his soul’s injuries, he had this item made for him.

It was an incredibly expensive item and, unfortunately, of low quality. Due to Soul Mages being rather rare and the element itself being quite complex, the enchantment process left much to be desired.

After every few hours, the necklace would heal around an inch of the damage done to him.

A single inch!

Damien let out an exasperated sigh, grieving over the three deaths he had gone through today; this was the most he had in a while.

"It’ll take days to heal...!" Damien growled hatefully, standing up and picking up a wine-filled glass to a window. He looked out, admiring the moon, which brought him brief peace of mind.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The Darkhound then turned to his door, his eyes narrowing.

"Who disturbs me?" He inquired loudly, but was met with a familiar voice.

"It’s us..."

"Then, come in."

Opening the door, all six members of the Bloodhound entered. They then began to give their report of what happened, which made Damien’s headache worsen.

Pinching the gap in between his brows, he let out a deep and shaky sigh of annoyance.

"So, let me get this straight. Throughout this entire day, you guys not only failed to figure out the reason for the missing nobles, failed to arrive fast enough to confront the Roselle from tearing up my home, failed to stop the mess occurring in the Mutt ring, but also FAILED to kill one of the causes?! JUST HOW USELESS CAN ALL OF YOU BE!?"

Damien paced back and forth, growing more and more irritated to the point he hadn’t even realised he had accidentally killed the maid with his magic.

SPLAT!

Having watched the maid unreasonably explode, the Bloodhounds couldn’t help but feel even more disgusted by Damien. They were killers, but at least they weren’t unreasonable enough to kill randomly.

After Damien eventually calmed down, he asked:

"Anything. Do you guys at least have ONE good thing to report back to me?"

"We have two." Bloodhound ’#3’ stated.

"And that is?"

"Lady Viremont’s condition has stabilised, but she is currently experiencing heavy trauma from the experience. She might be planning to leave the Darkhound territory by tomorrow."

Damien scratched his head, his face twitching, "Oookaaay... Barely good news, very well. At least you six got something. What’s the second?"

The Bloodhounds glanced at each other before stepping aside, revealing a masked individual behind them, dressed in respectful business attire. The mask he wore gave off a cultist impression, and if Lillian were here, she would recognise it to belong to the Cult of Jesters.

"Greetings, Sir Damien Von Darkhound!" The man greeted, pushing out his hand, "I’m one of the three Priests of Order working under Lord Coerce. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Damien narrowed his eyes on the man’s hand before eventually shaking it; his eyes filled with wariness and caution.

"A priest, huh? What’s your reason for coming here?"

"I was ordered to, Sir Darkhound."

"By who?"

"That’s confidential, Sir Darkhound." The priest promptly answered.

Pressing his thumb against his forehead, Damien sighed again, giving up. "Alright, fine. Make yourself at home."

Damien then paused and asked:

"I suppose if you’re here, then my father must’ve finally made it to your church."

The Cutlist nodded in confirmation before raising his hands to his suit’s lapels, rubbing the underside of them with his thumbs; he did it in a way it seemed like a habit.

"Absolutely! To think you had guessed it from just my arrival, your intelligence truly is profound, Sir Darkhound!"

Damien narrowed his eyes again, his ash-brown pupils constricting at the manner in which the man spoke to him.

Was the cultist trying to butter him up?

He snorted, then huffed as his throbbing headache eased a little. Although he knew the cultist was trying to curry favour with him...

"It seems someone around here knows when greatness is before him."

He also couldn’t help but fall and accept the man’s plot.

The Cultist nodded energetically before half-bowing towards Damien, his smile hidden behind his mask.

"I’m grateful for your kind words."

Damien nodded, the corners of his lips curling up as the headache eased even more; the foul mood he was in from his Bloodhounds’ incompetence was partially gone now.

After he was about to turn around and shoo the Cultists and his Bloodhounds away, having not yet realised his room was painted in blood, he watched as the Cultist raised his hand.

Watching as a flash of caution appeared in the Darkhound’s eyes, the Cultist smirked a little as he pulled out a wide wooden box from his spatial storage.

"I would also like to deliver something to you, on behalf of the Church of the Jester.

Prying it open with his other hand, the Cultist revealed two rather large-looking syringes; they had a mysterious and off-putting grey colour contained in them.