The scent, the dampness, the unmistakable scene—every detail screamed exactly what had just happened here.

…And Maur’s condition? Utterly impossible to hide.

Lilith’s fingers tightened around her sword hilt. Held there. Motionless. For a long, long moment.

Then, slowly, she lowered her hand—yielding to Maur’s soft, repeated murmurs.

“Mmm… Silly… silly dog…”

Maur drifted back into haze, slightly clearer than before.

Seeing a familiar face, he clung to one last thread of awareness—just enough to recognize Lilith.

Nothing more.

“Did you *actually* swallow the wrong potion?” Lilith stepped closer, brow furrowed.

Her eyes accidentally dropped to *that* part. Froze. Snapped away.

If Maur were lucid, he’d have seen it: the very tips of Lilith’s fluffy silver-flecked wolf ears flushed crimson, trembling helplessly.

But he could barely focus on her face—let alone catch such tiny tells.

Maur was in no shape to answer.

Repeating her name was all his fraying mind could manage.

This state? Couldn’t be left alone.

And the succubus clinging to him needed handling.

…Deal with the succubus first.

Maur’s condition left Lilith helpless. But a fainted low-tier demon? She had a trick.

The weaker the demon, the sharper the survival instinct.

Succubi ranked lowest in Hell—their danger sense should be razor-sharp.

So Lilith drew her waist sword, leveled it at the unconscious succubus, and unleashed killing intent like glacial frost.

“Ice-cold voice: ‘Wake up. Or die.’”

“Eep!!!”

The succubus—moments ago slack-jawed, drooling, utterly broken—jolted upright.

“Waaah! Don’t kill Belotti! Please! Belotti will do *anything*!”

She kowtowed flawlessly, heart-shaped tail drooping to the ground, shivering violently.

Lilith: “….”

…This succubus. So pitiful, anger felt pointless.

Lilith sheathed her blade. Withdrew the killing intent.

Belotti collapsed instantly, sobbing softly.

“Sniffle… sniffle…”

“Rebuild your clothes. Then explain what happened to him.”

Lilith’s gaze flicked toward Maur—*again* landing on that overly eager spot.

Lilith: “….”

…Silly dog?

Silly dog.

Silly dog…

Maur chanted the name, clinging to sanity.

So uncomfortable. So *aching*.

He wanted his silly dog to help—just *once*.

But pride choked the words.

N-no way… he wouldn’t *ask*.

Yet the heat built. Pressure mounting. *Bursting*.

“Mmm… mmm…” So he repeated it, thinking his tone fierce: “Silly dog… mmm… silly dog…”

The vines? Likely Teacher Evelyn’s doing.

But tentacles sprouting from a skirt? *Who else* had Maur tangled with?

After hearing Belotti’s story, Lilith let out an almost imperceptible sigh. Resigned, she half-squatted to pull Maur’s mage robe into place.

Thank the stars he wore a simple cyan robe today—not his usual ornate formalwear.

…No trousers needed.

Once the ankle-length robe settled, Maur could *almost* pass in public—if you ignored his flushed face and dazed eyes.

“How long will this last?” Lilith asked the trembling succubus.

Just dressing him, his burning hands clung to hers. Skin contact seared. His gaze stayed wet, pleading.

His voice kept murmuring her name—soft, sticky, endless.

*This* Maur… Lilith drew a sharp breath.

No.

Absolutely not.

She couldn’t stay another second.

Or *she’d*…

—Get him back to Violet County Manor. *Now*.

Belotti peeked up, licked dry lips: “L-left alone… it could last days… But if Belotti helps Lord Maur… she could make him climax qui—”

“Eep!!!”

*Killing intent!*

*She’s gonna die!*

The useless succubus slid into a desperate grovel: “SORRY! BELLOTTI WAS WRONG! I’LL DO ANYTHING! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

…She really *was* skilled at kneeling.

Lilith’s face stayed blank. “Go.”

Bullying the weak held no appeal.

“But remember: today, you saw *nothing*. If rumors about Maur surface—even if you flee to the deepest hell…” Lilith’s eyes turned arctic. “…I will hunt you down. And end you.”

Eep!!!

*So scary!*

“Y-yes! Belotti saw *nothing*! Knows *nothing*!”

*(Wah… leaving Lord Maur’s tempting scent hurts… but the wolf-eared half-breed is TERRIFYING!)*

Belotti fled, chest heaving, tears streaming.

*So hungry… stomach growling… sniffle…*

After shooing the nuisance away, Lilith hesitated—then gently took Maur’s feverish hand.

He followed obediently. Unusually docile.

But his flushed cheeks, clinging gaze, dazed expression…

*Total* trouble. Obvious to anyone.

Lilith led him out through the hole she’d kicked in the haunted house wall.

Outside: a deserted alley. Beyond the wall—the maid café’s festival venue.

This alley served as their overflow storage.

Piled with crates… and Lilith’s carved pumpkins.

*Hide the face.*

Her eyes landed on one larger than a human head.

Maur stumbled along, dazed.

Her hand wasn’t soft like the succubus’s—rough from swordplay.

But right now? Deeply, strangely reassuring.

Body still burning. Mind fading fast.

“Mmm… s-so… uncomfortable…”

First words beyond *silly dog*.

Lilith pulled a pumpkin-shaped hood over his head. Took his hand again.

“Almost there. Hold on, Maur.” She guided him past the alley’s noise. “I’m taking you home.”

H-home?

Mmm… home.

D-Daina would… help him…

Maur’s breath hitched. Thoughts swirling.

Then—Lilith froze.

“Has anyone seen Lord Maur of Violet County Manor?” A familiar voice cut through the festival crowd.

Maur’s foggy mind latched onto it—but couldn’t place it. Only a flash of *tentacles*.

“He might be in a cyan mage robe today. Anyone spot him?” The voice drew nearer.

A student piped up:

“Cyan robe? I saw Princess Lilith leading someone in cyan with a pumpkin hood. Looked like Lord Maur!”

“Oh? *Lilith*?” The voice brightened. “Then they must be close.”

Lilith’s grip on Maur’s hand tightened.

A whisper, barely audible:

“…Mavis.”