"...Is there such a thing?"

Abraham murmured, slightly dazed. His gaze grew distant, as if struck by a profound shock.

"No more. I told you—just this one cup."

Ledyah’s eyes crinkled with amusement as she sipped her tea, her voice soft.

"To think Succubus Milk of this quality exists... A body that can fuse with the moon’s essence must possess extraordinary talent, no?"

Abraham stroked his chin, deep in thought. His sharp eyes flickered, lost in contemplation.

"...In that case, making her a princess of the Enchantress Royal Court wouldn’t be out of the question."

At Abraham’s conclusion, Ledyah’s smile deepened—triumphant.

Her pride wasn’t about how delicious Noah’s Succubus Milk tasted. It was because what Abraham had just drunk was *her* creation.

Academically speaking, her "alchemical masterpiece."

Succubus Milk was the Demon Race’s ultimate luxury, reserved only for the innermost circles of the Enchantress Royal Court. Court Succubi often had surplus due to their physiology, sharing it sparingly.

But what Ledyah had given Abraham was merely a high-grade imitation—a replica she’d spent nearly... well, half an hour crafting.

Slightly inferior to the real thing, but Ledyah judged it sufficient to deceive Abraham. So she’d perfected it only to this degree.

The ingredients were costly. She’d poured meticulous effort into the flavor, striving to replicate a fraction of its allure.

Even the ruler of the Royal Court would bow to such dedication.

Noah was *hers* alone. She’d never let anyone taste Noah’s true essence.

Yet she couldn’t reveal this obsession—not even to her confidante Avel.

No one knew she’d ignited this entire war... for Noah, a Holy Maiden.

Ledyah refused to let Noah become her weakness. Or a target because of her.

Her actions sent a silent message: Noah was her prized possession—but merely a "useful tool."

Important, yes. But the Demon King would sacrifice her for greater gains if needed.

—The Demon King embodied darkness and desire. To preserve that image, Ledyah *wanted* others to believe this. It made maneuvering easier.

That was why Abraham harbored no suspicion. To him, the Demon King had no reason to act otherwise.

"Then my marriage to Noah wouldn’t be ‘the Demon King wedding an enemy nation’s Holy Maiden.’ It would be ‘a union between the Demon King and a princess of the Royal Court.’"

"Would that title be acceptable to you, Lord Abraham?"

Ledyah’s eyebrows arched elegantly. She resembled a heiress sealing a lucrative deal—graceful, regal, utterly captivating.

"Of course. If she’s fused with the moon’s essence, she’s family."

Abraham gave a slight nod, washing the thick milky—no, *medicinal*—aftertaste from his mouth with tea. His tone stayed neutral.

"But I still wish to meet her in person, Your Majesty. Might you arrange a time?"

"...No. Lord Abraham, you may take your leave."

Ledyah’s delicate brows furrowed. Her warm smile vanished, replaced by a chilling aura that made Abraham’s spine freeze.

"Understood. I shall withdraw immediately."

Abraham didn’t dare linger. He set down his teacup, grabbed his parchment scroll, and rose to leave.

Relief flickered in Ledyah’s eyes. She’d been terrified—she’d never asked Noah about her preferences for men.

Noah showed no inclinations so far... but what if she secretly favored handsome men over girls?

Among women, Ledyah was confident. But *orientation*? That fear gripped her suddenly.

*"I’m sorry, Demon Lord... but I actually like boys..."*

Just imagining Noah saying those words made Ledyah’s nose sting, her heart clenching in waves of pain.

*No. Noah must never meet exceptional men—especially not rivals like the Lord of the Enchantress Royal Court!*

She mentally lashed out at invisible threats.

But fate never knocks before arriving.

"My Lord~~~."

A familiar, honeyed voice drifted in—playful, elongated, melting bones. Both Abraham and Ledyah froze.

The door swung open. Noah bounced in wearing a white apron, a tray in hand. Her ample bosom jiggled with each step.

"...Who’s there? Where are the guards?"

Abraham faltered for a split second at Noah’s beauty—then snapped back, his Royal Court authority shielding him.

He stepped in front of Ledyah, parchment raised, incantations already forming on his lips.

*She has charm abilities. Unlucky for her—I’m the King of Thaumaturgy. With my authority, I have the world’s strongest resistance.*

But pink light flashed in Noah’s eyes. Abraham’s tongue locked mid-chant. A glittering pink heart bloomed in his deep-set gaze.

The King of Thaumaturgy could unleash devastating spells in half a second—but not faster than a glance.

"As a guest," Noah purred, eyelids lowering to reveal dewy, cunning allure. Her fingertip brushed her pink lips, a dangerous smile playing there. "You should sit quietly... and wait for your host’s hospitality~."

"My Lord~, it’s lunchtime~." She set two bento boxes on the tray—one plain for Abraham, one lavish for Ledyah. "Your adorable, devoted wife~ made this for you~."

"Come now~. Let Noah feed you~."

She plopped onto the sofa beside Ledyah. The spacious seat grew cramped instantly. Their hips pressed together, soft and warm. Ledyah’s cheeks flushed.

Noah’s apron strained over her chest, looming over Ledyah with intimate pressure. Sensing her shyness, Noah leaned closer, teasing:

"Or... would you prefer to have *me* for lunch?"