"I... I don't know..."

Kanata couldn’t give Alessia a perfect answer to her demand. She hadn’t even considered doing such a thing—her mind was a tangled mess, leaving her slightly dazed.

After drinking Alessia’s blood, her body had miraculously calmed. Just as that nonsense-spouting biology teacher claimed: the blood of natural enemies could neutralize each other, temporarily easing the infection symptoms.

The air grew thick. If this continued, something irreversible would happen—and there’d be no stopping it.

"Don’t forget... you are my exclusive property... Exclusive property... must obey without question..."

Undeterred by Kanata’s subtle refusal, Alessia leaned close, whispering into her ear to reassert her claim.

She’d wanted Kanata for so long. But trivial duties piled up, spies from meddling factions lurked in the manor, and honestly—she feared getting the teacher’s daughter pregnant.

How would a child carrying two rival bloodlines even be acknowledged? Those old fogeys—the Falling Cherry City Council members—would never let it slide. They’d pounce at the next meeting, pushing some so-called "more virtuous candidate" to serve their schemes.

Alessia refused to be a puppet Sovereign. Still half-controlled, her power wasn’t yet strong enough to protect what mattered. Hence the hesitation.

But this time... this feeling shattered all doubt. She wanted it.

Pin her down. Claim her lips in a forceful kiss. Every motion flowed seamlessly, one fluid sequence. After all, she still held absolute control.

"Mmph..."

Kanata’s tongue ached. Her inner wolf was suppressed by the blood; her abnormal strength gone. She couldn’t push her away.

Her mind screamed *no*—but her body betrayed her, reacting with raw, helpless honesty.

Just as she braced to lose her virtue—

THUD—!

A violent slam shook the door. No hand could make that sound. Something heavy had rammed it.

*How dare the staff of this pleasure house be so bold?*

Alessia seethed. She’d been worked up, ready for something thrilling—and they dared interrupt?!

"Get lost! Knock again... and die!" she snarled toward the door.

But they burst it open anyway.

There they stood: the revered Sovereign pinning down the daughter of the executed finance minister. Both disheveled. What happened? Easy to imagine.

Worse—the Sovereign, willingly sinking to this disreputable pleasure house. A disgrace.

"Lord Alessia," the young man said smoothly, "Lord Honda and the other council lords await. They are deeply pained by your conduct. Please come with me."

He was just a diplomat—handling clan communications, greeting guests, zero real power. Slicked hair, powdered face, effeminate manner, voice dripping with condescension. Alessia had always loathed him.

"Get out... Who gave you leave to speak? Do you even have the standing?"

She hurled the vase. He caught it effortlessly—movements unnaturally agile.

"My apologies, Lord Alessia," he said, a thoroughly insincere smile plastered on his face, "but remember your station. You are the Sovereign—the city-state’s supreme authority. If this disgrace hits tomorrow’s paper... the Fujiwara Clan will bear the shame."