Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 154: Do You Want To Be Milked?*

"Your Majesty,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I am writing to express my deepest gratitude for the wise advice you shared with me.

Your words gave me the confidence I needed to continue my work as a healer, and I am overjoyed to say that the person under my care is recovering well, day by day.

Cortinvar remains peaceful under the queen's just rule. Though the plague has left the economy fragile, her leadership brings stability and hope to the people.

Still, we all eagerly await the day you return to Cortinvar. Your guidance has always been a source of strength, not just for me, but for all of us.

With sincere thanks and warmest regards,

[Aurelia Winter]"

---

Claude smiled faintly at the letter in his hand. Morning sunlight filtered through the window of his office—a rare, gentle glow that cast a golden hue across his desk.

At least one of his very first friends from Blackwood was doing well. Aurelia had grown more confident by the day—not the timid, teary-eyed girl she once was. She had truly become a remarkable woman.

Unlike Olivia… Claude's smile dimmed at the thought. He regretted not being able to save her.

She had fallen too deep into the Church's brainwashing—even her own mother couldn't reach her anymore.

Still, his memories of Blackwood remained warm. The recollections of childhood friends—and the older women who raised and protected them—wrapped around his heart like a soft cloak.

Today, he had a rare moment of freedom. No official duties, no audiences. The western continent was in ruins.

Every kingdom there was rotting from within, plagued by the nightmare known as Red Slumber.

It was the worst in recorded history—almost a quarter of the population had died.

And the one responsible for it all was now basking in the morning light with a calm smile on his face.

Claude only had to wait for the intel from Black Eclipse before taking the next step.

The subjugation of Hyparia had been postponed—either the plague would wipe them out, or weaken them enough to make the conquest effortless.

The same plan was in motion for Mycentia and the Church.

Meanwhile, his policy with Ezra had begun showing results. Malnutrition cases were steadily declining each month. Other reforms would take longer, but he was patient.

Everything was unfolding just as he had planned...

Except one thing.

Now that Rowan had passed, the responsibility of Magistrate had fallen on him.

"Damn it, my workload just keeps piling up," Claude groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Still, thanks to his evolution, fatigue was a rare guest in his body—and for that, he was grateful.

Then, Claude's door burst open without ceremony, and he raised a brow before casually allowing the visitor in. Layla stepped inside, her arms gently cradling her sleeping baby.

"Oh, Layla. You brought the little one?"

Claude stood and walked toward her, taking baby Vega into his arms with practiced ease. Together, they sat on the sofa.

"Well, it's not like you visit me often, Your Majesty," Layla pouted, her tone half-teasing but still tinged with real frustration.

"I know Vega doesn't have a prince's title, but it's not fair for you to treat him differently!"

"What?" Claude sighed, shaking his head. "No, I never thought of it like that. I've been visiting the others—especially Dalia and Sophia—because I'm... worried."

The maids' reports made it clear: Sophia's condition was deteriorating. She kept calling Antares by the name Olivia, dressing him in girl's clothing, and speaking as if her dead daughter were still alive.

Postpartum psychosis, likely worsened by hormones and unresolved trauma.

That's why Claude gave her extra attention—for Antares' sake, too.

"I understand worrying about Sophia," Layla muttered, arms crossed, "but you've been seeing your mother a lot, too."

"Well, she is my mother," he replied with a shrug, smiling faintly. Truthfully, she was the only woman who could calm any chaos with just her presence.

Layla huffed. "You should make time for me and my baby too! And don't forget my sister!"

Claude laughed. "You've changed since having a baby. People were right—women really do mature after giving birth."

"Eh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You used to be so shy and stiff. But look at you now—coming to me first, making demands to get my attention."

Layla gasped, her cheeks flushing red. She looked away, flustered. "I—I only did that because you were ignoring me! And I don't want your attention—I want you to give attention to my son!"

Claude chuckled, reaching out with his free hand to pull her closer. "Part of giving attention to a child... is also giving attention to their mother."

"Hmph!" Layla turned her face away in mock annoyance, but her body didn't resist as he moved in closer.

Claude gently placed Vega on the adjacent sofa, careful not to disturb his slumber, then turned back to Layla. His hand tilted her chin up before he leaned in to kiss her.

Her eyes widened in surprise—but she didn't pull away. Instead, she melted into him, their lips locking in a wet, slow kiss as their tongues entwined.

Claude's hand slid over her chest, gently squeezing the soft swell beneath his palm. Layla groaned into the kiss, her body sensitive after childbirth.

Her breasts were heavier now, full with milk, and the curve of her figure more pronounced.

She pulled away with a scolding whisper, "Don't do that in front of the baby!"

"He's just a baby. He doesn't understand what we're doing," Claude murmured, unfazed.

But Layla frowned. "It's not safe to leave him there. And Vega's smarter than you think... He was born with a full set of teeth. His hair's growing faster than normal too."

Claude blinked, curious now.

"My father says he already has a sense of awareness, even if he can't speak yet. He understands what we're saying, right, Nova? Nod if you do, sweetheart."

To Claude's shock, Vega nodded.

His eyes widened. 'Keira, explain.'

[Because of your unique bloodline skill, your children do not start at zero. They develop consciousness within the womb. Layla is right.]

[They grow faster than normal children but will stabilize around the age of eighteen. Their mental and linguistic development is also accelerated.]

Claude slowly turned his gaze to the child, who stared back with eerie clarity in his crimson eyes.

There was something behind those eyes—awareness, comprehension—as if he understood every word spoken in the room.

'Wait… does that mean they could hear what happened outside the womb too?'

[Correct! They even begin learning your language in there. Their brains develop rapidly—even if they don't fully comprehend, they retain more than you think.]

Claude froze. His expression darkened as a very specific thought crossed his mind.

He had slept with many of his concubines… while they were pregnant.

"...Fuck." He buried his face in his hand in dismay.

"Claude?" Layla leaned in, her voice soft and teasing. "If… if you don't mind, I can give the baby to the maid. We can continue... what we started."

Claude peeked through his fingers before chuckling. "If that's what you want."

He reached over to ring the bell beside the table. In no time, William entered.

"What do you need, Your Majesty?"

"Please take Vega to his chamber. Layla and I need some private time."

William gave a quiet nod and took the baby with practiced care. As he left, Vega's gaze lingered on his father—watching, aware.

The door shut, leaving the room in silence.

Claude turned to Layla, his smirk returning. "Now, where were we?"

Layla gulped and gave a shaky nod. Claude moved in, capturing her lips in a deep, lustful kiss.

His hands worked quickly, undoing her dress as he moved back to her breasts. The moment his fingers brushed her nipple, her body shivered.

It was already swollen—and when he pinched it firmly, a few drops of milk beaded from it.

Claude broke the kiss, brought his fingers to his mouth, and licked them slowly.

"Mm… delicious," he murmured.

Layla's face flushed a deeper red. Her entire body trembled with want as she slipped out of her dress, leaving only a thin white undergarment—soft and pure, just like she had once been.

But not anymore.

Now, she was flushed, aroused, aching. Her innocence had been overtaken by heat.

Claude grinned at the sight. The fabric clung to her body, wet with her milk, semi-transparent now.

He cupped her breast again, squeezing, drawing another whimper from her lips.

"Do you want to be milked?" he asked, voice low and wicked.

Layla could barely process his words. Her mind was hazy with desire, her body far ahead of her thoughts. She nodded anyway, not fully knowing what he meant—just knowing she needed him.

Claude peeled away the last piece of cloth, exposing her fully, and latched his mouth onto her leaking nipple.

His tongue circled it, teasing, before he began to suck, greedily drinking the warm milk.

"Ahhh~ Ahhh~ Claude~" she moaned, fingers tangling in his dark hair as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

He switched to her other breast, suckling with the same hunger. The taste of her milk sent a nostalgic warmth through him—it reminded him when he was a baby, but now it become something erotic.

Layla trembled beneath him, overwhelmed. Claude's hand slid down between her thighs, and he found her soaking.

She was more than ready.

Without a word, he pushed her down onto the sofa. He stripped quickly, tossing aside his clothes until his hard cock sprang free.

He crawled over her, pressing the thick shaft against her flushed cheek, slapping it lightly.

"You know what to do with this… don't you?"