Volumes 1-4 + Side Stories of DMS are available uncensored on ko-fi! ※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

XII.

After realizing the truth, Jaha was tormented by a terrible fever.

The suppressed resentment that had been accumulating for years erupted all at once, spreading through her entire body. The stagnant, festering anger was no different from poison.

The only reason Jaha had been able to live unaffected until now was because she hadn’t been aware of the dark, viscous poison inside her. She had been able to live normally precisely because she had completely forgotten its existence.

Ignorance had been her remedy. But now, she knew.

‘I’ve come back to this damned world. Back into this horrifying nightmare!’

The humiliation she had forgotten, the indignation, the frustration that clawed at her chest—all of it came rushing back.

Hellish flames of karma, erupting from her heart, seared through Jaha’s entire body.

It burned. Her chest, her head, from the crown of her skull to the tips of her toes—there wasn’t a single part of her that wasn’t scorching.

The mansion’s atmosphere was no different from hell. A perfectly healthy person had suddenly collapsed during an outing, and now, on top of that, she was drifting between life and death from an unexplained fever—Rikanan was on the verge of losing his mind.

Frantically, he exhausted every possible means, but no physician could pinpoint the cause, and no medicine had any effect. His complexion grew even worse than Jaha’s, the one who was actually ill.

Whenever she regained consciousness in fleeting moments, Jaha thought to herself: At this rate, that man is going to die before I do.

It didn’t make sense. She was in this state, but why was he acting like he was the one triggered?

After suffering for half a month, Jaha finally managed to leave her sickbed.

Even after she got up, he treated her like a sugar sculpture that would crumble at the slightest touch.

The excessive, almost obsessive care continued for some time, only subsiding once he was fully convinced—by his own standards—that Jaha had completely recovered.

◇ ◆ ◇

Everything seemed unchanged on the surface.

Jaha still received lessons from Madame Marie, still told Rikanan stories about Earth disguised as lands beyond the sea, and whenever their eyes met—they had s*x.

“Hah—ah! Ngh!”

“You like it… like this?”

He pinched the hardened peak of her swollen b****t as he asked. When Jaha gave no reply, he snapped his hips upward sharply—the slap of skin loud in the room. The angle forced his already deep thrusts even further, and Jaha’s eyes rolled back.

Tilting her chin up, he watched her with unblinking intensity, savoring the sight.

It had become his latest twisted habit: admiring the moment Jaha lost control, her pupils vanishing as her body trembled.

“You’re beautiful, Jaha.”

His voice dripped with satisfaction. Beautiful? In this disheveled, obscene state? She couldn’t agree. What a perverse taste.

Before she could even come down from her high, the weapon-like c**k inside her moved again.

Ruthless, rapid thrusts—as if determined to break her—sent spasms wracking through her body like electric shocks. Every sensitive spot was mercilessly ravaged, the pleasure so violent she thought she’d go insane.

“W-Wait, pl—ease—!”

“You know better,” he murmured, “This is just the beginning.”

“Hiiik—!”

“Coming again already? I’ve barely f****d you yet. You really have a talent for this, Jaha.”

He laughed, staring into her glazed-over eyes.

With a wet squelch, Jaha collapsed, spent—but he hauled her back up, resuming his selfish pursuit of pleasure.

One large hand gripped her petite hips, slamming into her with bruising force. Her body jolted like a ragdoll—though from a distance, it might’ve looked like she was riding him. In truth, every movement was his, her flesh puppeted up and down by his strength.

“Ngh—ah! Hah—! Nn, ahh!”

Her moans dissolved into sobs.

The sound she made was indistinguishable between agony and pleasure—but he knew the answer. It was both. A pleasure so intense it crossed into unbearable pain, and a pain so unbearable it blurred back into pleasure.

With a thrust deep enough to rattle her pelvis, he buried himself to the hilt, forcing her climax as he spilled into her. Thick, white fluid overflowed from where they were joined, dripping down trembling thighs.

As Jaha collapsed weakly against him, he pulled her close and kissed her.

Perhaps her saliva is laced with some aphrodisiac.

It was unnervingly sweet—not the cloying sweetness of sugar, but something fiercer, like a d**g that set his blood ablaze. He could’ve spent all day just licking the taste from her tongue.

And it wasn’t just her saliva. The nectar between her legs was even sweeter. The way she melted under his mouth, thrashing when he lapped at her until she was soft and pliant—how adorable. Just the thought made his lower belly tighten.

Breaking the kiss, he rolled her onto her stomach, yanking her hips back to plunge into her again.

His engorged c**k, veins pulsing, disappeared between her spread cheeks only to reemerge, glistening.

While her p***y stretched tight around him, he dragged a thumb along her swollen folds, then kneaded her a*s before bending over her, pinning her small frame completely beneath his bulk.