Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 793: Disrespectful mayor wet himself.

"I... I’ll let the mayor know you’re on your way..." said the guard, his voice faltering at the end of the sentence.

Strax gave a slight nod, as if accepting a trivial favor.

"Do it."

Another man appeared soon after, unlike the usual guards. He wore more elaborate armor, a short cape draped over his shoulders, and the city’s symbol emblazoned on his chest. A knight of the civic guard—someone accustomed to escorting nobles, not prisoners.

He glanced quickly at the warped bars, then at Strax... and decided not to comment.

"Follow me, please," he said, with tense formality.

The prison corridor receded. The rough stone walls gave way to wider, cleaner passageways, with dark carpets covering the floor and narrow stained-glass windows filtering the late afternoon light. It was clear that this wing was not for common criminals—it was the path between force and power.

Daniela walked with her hands clasped behind her head, looking around curiously.

"Funny how everything gets prettier when you’re no longer officially a prisoner," she commented.

"You’re still a prisoner," murmured the knight, without turning his face.

Cassandra smiled slightly.

"Only on paper."

The knight swallowed hard and quickened his pace.

They climbed a wide staircase, flanked by statues of former mayors and benefactors of the city. Strax cast a quick glance at each face carved in stone—evaluating, judging, discarding.

"None of them lasted long, I imagine," he commented neutrally.

"Some more than others," replied the knight cautiously.

"All less than they thought," concluded Strax.

They reached a double door of dark wood, carved with symbols of prosperity and authority. Two ceremonial guards opened it silently.

The contrast was immediate.

The room was spacious, luxurious, illuminated by crystal chandeliers. Expensive carpets covered the polished marble floor. A long table occupied the center, flanked by upholstered chairs. Heavy curtains framed tall windows, and the air smelled of incense and expensive wine.

"Wow," murmured Daniela. "I almost forgot we’re in a city that imprisons people in stone holes."

Strax entered first, without hesitation. He walked to the table and sat exactly in the center, as if that place belonged to him by ancient right.

Cassandra sat to his right, crossing her legs with calculated elegance, observing every detail of the room.

Daniela sat to his left, resting an arm on the table, clearly too comfortable for someone who should be "detained."

The knight remained standing for a moment, undecided, then made a discreet gesture to a woman who was waiting near the wall.

She was young, impeccably dressed, with scrolls neatly arranged at her chest. The mayor’s secretary.

She approached the table with controlled steps, cast a quick—and nervous—glance at Strax, and cleared her throat.

"The mayor...," she began, adjusting her posture, "will arrive in a few moments."

Strax rested his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

"Tell him we’re not in a hurry," he replied. "But we’re not patient either."

The secretary nodded too quickly.

"Y-yes, sir."

She walked away almost running.

Daniela leaned slightly toward Strax.

"I bet he’s rehearsing a speech right now," she whispered.

"I bet he’s reconsidering life decisions," Cassandra replied.

Strax watched the reflection of the light dancing on the marble of the table.

"I bet he still thinks he’s in control."

He smiled, slowly, dangerously. "And that," he finished, "will make everything much more interesting."

Time stretched within the room like a thread about to snap.

Servants came and went in absolute silence, leaving a tray with wine, another with dried fruit. No one touched anything. Not out of distrust—but out of indifference. Strax seemed more interested in the almost invisible cracks in the marble than in any gesture of hospitality.

Daniela leaned back more comfortably in her chair, crossing her legs, her arms behind her head again.

"If he takes another five minutes," she murmured, "I’ll start charging rent."

Cassandra let out a small nasal laugh, too relaxed for someone in someone else’s power room.

"Relax. Anxiety usually makes important men seem even smaller when they finally appear."

Strax tilted his head slightly, eyes half-closed. "Or noisier."

As if the comment had been an invocation, the sound of footsteps came from the other side of the double doors. Short steps. Hurried. Irregular.

There was a brief muffled murmur, then the creaking of heavy wood being pushed open.

The doors opened.

The man who entered was... impressive. Not in the right sense of the word.

Short—very short—barely reaching five feet four inches. His body was broad, compact, as if someone had compressed an ordinary man from top to bottom. His face was a collection of excesses: a nose that was too large and crooked; small, deep-set eyes, gleaming with cunning; a receding chin hidden under a sparse, unkempt beard. His skin had irregular, reddish blemishes, and the smile he attempted seemed more like a nervous tic than sympathy.

He wore expensive clothes. Very expensive. Fine fabrics desperately trying to convince the world that grandeur resided there.

Behind him, two bodyguards entered almost simultaneously.

Giants.

Each easily surpassed twenty feet four inches. Shoulders as wide as doors, arms as thick as tree trunks, empty expressions of those accustomed to crushing problems without asking questions. They were slightly taller than Strax—enough to make any other man feel diminished.

Strax didn’t move. The short man walked to the table, stopping on the opposite side. His eyes swept over Strax quickly... and then fixed on Cassandra.

Then on Daniela.

And lingered.

Too long.

His smile widened, slow, assessing, like someone choosing rare merchandise in a shop window.

"So..." he said, his voice surprisingly thin, laden with false cordiality, "these are the guests who have caused so much... talk."

Cassandra maintained her elegant posture, but her gaze cooled a degree.

Daniela noticed immediately—and smiled back, a provocative, dangerous smile, the kind that usually ended in trouble.

Strax raised an eyebrow.

For a brief instant—a blink of thought—he calculated.

The distance to the man’s neck.

The necessary speed.

The exact time before the bodyguards reacted.

It would be easy. Ridiculously easy.

Then something changed.

Strax’s smile started small. A tremor at the corner of his mouth.

Then it turned into laughter.

Low at first. A muffled sound in his chest.

Until it exploded.

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the table, laughing like someone who had just heard the most absurd joke of his life. An open, uncontrolled laugh, echoing through the luxurious room, making the bodyguards exchange tense glances.

The short man frowned.

"Did I say something funny?"

Strax took a deep breath, still laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye.

"Oh... no," he replied. "You didn’t say anything."

He raised his gaze, finally looking the mayor up and down.

"It’s just that I was wondering..." he continued, his smile still too wide to be kind, "how an old, idiotic dwarf like you dares to even look at my wives."

The mayor’s smile faltered.

For a brief moment—dangerously brief—the mask of false cordiality slipped, revealing something nervous, small, too irritated for the position he held. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw trembling.

"W-watch your tongue," he said, his voice rising half a tone. "You are standing before the highest authority in this city."

Strax raised a hand.

It wasn’t a brusque gesture.

It wasn’t a threat.

It was the kind of movement one makes to brush an annoying insect away from their face.

"No," he said calmly. "You are facing a misfortune that I truly don’t want to have to deal with."

The mayor swallowed hard.

Strax rested his elbow on the table, his gaze heavy, absolute. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"From now on," he continued, "you work for me. This city answers to me.

And you only continue breathing because you are still useful."

The silence was so dense it felt like it was pressing on his lungs.

Cassandra didn’t move. Daniela merely tilted her head, curious, like someone watching a previously announced spectacle.

"Now," said Strax, with the same tranquility, "I want to know one simple thing: under which monarch is this city officially under jurisdiction?"

The mayor opened his mouth.

No sound came out.

Sweat began to trickle down his temple, his gaze darting to the sides, seeking support in the two giants behind him.

Strax waited.

Nothing.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Silence often answers before fear."

The mayor took a step back, his voice finally escaping, sharp, desperate:

"Kill him."

The two bodyguards moved at the same time.

It was quick.

Too quick to look like a fight.

Strax made a single movement with his hand—a short twist of his wrist, as if dismissing something irrelevant.

The two bodies simply fell.

Heavy. Definitive. Too silent for men of that size.

The impact echoed through the hall.

The mayor froze.

Strax uncrossed his arms, stood calmly, and took a step forward. Then another. He stopped, observing the bodies on the floor as one assesses poorly positioned furniture.

Then he sat down again.

He crossed his legs.

Using the head of one of the bodyguards as makeshift support, without even looking down.

Cassandra arched an eyebrow slightly.

Daniela smiled, satisfied.

Strax rested his chin on his hand, relaxed, almost comfortable.

"Now," he said, with a slow, dangerous smile, "let’s talk."

He trembled when he saw that the two were... dead, he was covered in blood... "W-w-what is this?!" He stammered, wetting himself.

"Ah, relax, I’m still being quite benevolent, right?" He asked Cassandra, "Yes, usually you kill whoever looks at us," she smiled.

"That’s right, I’m being quite benevolent. I feel proud of myself," he said, smiling.

Daniela, on the other hand... "So... are you going to talk or do you want me to kill you?" She asked the mayor, who trembled all over.