Damon moved the instant the scream reached him.
In a single motion he pushed himself off the bed, his body already alert as he dashed toward the source of the sound, his footsteps quick and controlled as he crossed the darkened room and headed straight for the kitchen area, where the soft glow of a mana lamp had already flickered to life.
The scene inside was far from what he had expected.
The maid stood pressed into the corner of the kitchen, her body trembling visibly as she stared toward a section near the storage cabinets, her hands clutched tightly to her chest as though bracing herself against something unseen.
Damon's gaze sharpened immediately.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice low but firm as he stepped into the room.
The maid raised a shaking hand and pointed toward the lower corner near a wooden storage crate, her voice barely steady as she spoke.
"T–there… I felt something moving there…"
Damon followed the direction of her finger, his body already shifting into a guarded stance as his eyes focused on the dimly lit corner.
"Stay there," he said quietly. "I'll take a look."
Without making unnecessary noise, he stepped forward, his movements careful and deliberate as he approached the storage area, his senses sharpening as his mind began running through possibilities.
Is there really an assassin here?
His eyes narrowed slightly.
If so… who would it be?
Another thought followed.
Did the original owner of this body have enemies capable of reaching this place?
He reached the storage crate.
Or is this some kind of political maneuver…?
With a swift motion, Damon slid the crate aside.
Nothing.
The space behind it was completely empty.
For a brief moment, he straightened slowly, his expression tightening as he turned his head slightly to glance back at the maid.
Did she lie to me…?
But before the thought could settle—
A faint rustling sound came from the side.
Damon's body reacted instantly.
He shifted his stance and dropped another nearby container aside in one smooth motion—
Only to freeze.
There, crawling along the floor—
Was a small, dark creature.
"A… cockroach?"
The word slipped out of his mouth almost automatically.
Behind him, the maid let out another terrified scream.
"Aahhh—!"
She jumped forward instinctively, hiding behind Damon as though he were a shield, her hands gripping onto him for safety.
Damon stared at the tiny creature for a moment, his expression completely flat.
"…Are there cockroaches in this world as well?" he muttered under his breath.
Behind him, the maid clung to him tightly, her voice trembling as she spoke.
"A–a Void Scuttler…"
Damon's eyes flickered slightly as he looked at the creature again.
Void Scuttler?
He tilted his head just a fraction.
So it's not a cockroach…?
He exhaled quietly and turned his gaze away, his tone returning to calm indifference.
"It's just a small insect," he said. "Why are you so scared of it?"
At that exact moment, the creature moved again.
The maid let out a small, panicked sound and immediately grabbed the hem of Damon's T-shirt sleeve, her fingers tightening as she pressed closer behind him.
"I–I am just scared of it…"
Damon let out a quiet breath before casually flicking his hand, sending the small insect skittering away and out of sight, his expression returning to its usual calm indifference as though the entire situation had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"It's gone now," he said, his tone flat. "Just sleep normally."
With that, he gently pulled his hand free from her grip on his shirt, stepping away from her as she remained where she stood, her body still trembling slightly.
"B–but… young ma—" she tried to speak, her voice hesitant and unsure.
"There is nothing here now," Damon interrupted, not even turning back as he spoke. "Just sleep."
Without waiting for another response, he walked back into the main room, his movements slow now that the earlier tension had faded, before lowering himself onto the bed and letting his body sink into it.
"…Seriously," he muttered under his breath, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.
Time passed quietly.
The room returned to stillness once again.
Then—
A faint movement.
Damon's eyes opened.
His gaze shifted slightly to the side.
The maid stood there.
Near the corner of the room.
Damon let out a slow breath as he pushed himself up slightly on one elbow, his voice carrying clear irritation.
"What is it now?"
The maid hesitated, her fingers tightening against the fabric of her clothes as though she were debating whether or not she should even speak.
For a few seconds, she remained silent.
Then, gathering what little courage she had, she finally said—
"Y–young master… c–can I sleep with you…?"
Damon blinked once.
Then sat up fully, his gaze sharpening as he looked at her.
"There is—"
Before he could finish—
The maid suddenly began fidgeting with her clothes, her voice trembling as she spoke quickly, almost as if she believed she had to justify her request.
"I–if you want… w–we can do that as well…"
Damon froze.
For a brief second, he simply stared at her.
Then—
"Stop it."
His voice cut through the room sharply.
The maid immediately froze in place.
Damon looked at her carefully now, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed her trembling figure, her nervousness, her fear.
Is she acting…? Is all of this…just a farce?
The thought passed through his mind as he studied her expression.
After a moment, he exhaled quietly.
"Fine," he said, his tone returning to calm. "Just sleep here."
He shifted slightly to the side, creating space on the bed.
The maid's eyes widened with relief.
"T–thank you… thank you, young master!"
She quickly moved, almost rushing as she climbed onto the bed and settled beside him, carefully positioning herself as though afraid of taking too much space, before closing her eyes almost immediately.
The room grew quiet once again.
The night stretched on quietly, the stillness of the room deepening as the hours passed, and the faint silver glow of the moon slipped further across the floor, climbing slowly toward the bed where Damon lay awake, his gaze fixed on the figure beside him.
The maid had fallen completely asleep.
There was no tension left in her body now, no trace of the earlier fear that had made her tremble, only a soft, natural ease as she rested, shifting lightly from time to time in a way that seemed entirely unguarded, entirely unaware of the world around her. The movement caused the fabric around her shoulders to loosen slightly, revealing the gentle line of her neck where it met her collarbone, pale under the moonlight, rising and falling faintly with each quiet breath.
Damon watched her without moving.
She fell asleep just like that…
The thought passed through his mind, quieter now, less suspicious than before.
Was I overthinking things?
His eyes lingered longer than necessary.
A faint exhale left him as he muttered under his breath, almost absent-mindedly, "Do I smell like sleeping pills or something… they just sleep so comfortably around me."
For a moment, his guard lowered a little.
But then—
Her earlier words returned, uninvited.
"I–if you want… we can do that as well…"
Something shifted inside him.
His gaze, which had been distant, became focused.
Slowly.
Unconsciously.
It traced the soft curve of her shoulder, the subtle dip where her collarbone caught the light, the faint shadow beneath it giving her form a quiet depth that he had not noticed before. His eyes moved upward, drawn to the line of her neck, slender and exposed, before settling on her face—on the relaxed expression she wore in sleep, and then, inevitably, to her lips.
They were slightly parted.
Soft.
Unaware.
His breathing changed.
It grew heavier without him noticing, warmer, less controlled, as a faint heat began to rise through him, unfamiliar yet difficult to suppress. The stillness of the room seemed to close in, the quiet making every small detail sharper—the sound of her breath, the closeness between them, the subtle warmth radiating from her body.
Without realizing it—
He leaned closer… gradually as though pulled.
The distance between them narrowed inch by inch, his thoughts slowing, dulling at the edges as something instinctive took over, something that did not ask permission.
He could feel her breath now.
Soft against his skin.
Their faces were close enough that the boundary between intention and action had nearly disappeared.
And just as that final moment approached—
Damon's eyes snapped open fully.
Awareness crashed back into him.
He pulled away instantly, as if burned, shifting to the far side of the bed with a sharp movement as his hand ran through his hair, his breathing uneven and his chest rising faster than before.
No.
The word echoed sharply in his mind.
What was I doing?
His jaw tightened, frustration flickering through him—not outward, but inward.
I need to control myself.
The thought followed immediately.
And with this resonance… I need to control my emotions even more.
Without hesitation, he straightened his posture and sat cross-legged on the bed, closing his eyes as he forced his breathing into a slow, steady rhythm, drawing in controlled breaths and releasing them just as carefully, grounding himself, pulling himself back into control piece by piece.
Gradually, the heat faded.
His breathing steadied.
The tension dissolved.
After a while, he opened his eyes again.
His gaze shifted back toward her—
And for a brief moment, his breath faltered again.
"…I should just take a cold shower."
***
The morning sun spilled across the academy's training grounds, casting sharp light over wide open fields where students were already scattered in motion—some sparring in pairs, some practicing techniques alone, others testing their resonance in controlled bursts of power.
Then—
A voice thundered across the field.
"…ALL of ya!"
It carried a heavy, rolled beastman accent, rough and commanding, cutting through the noise of clashing strikes and shifting feet.
"Assemble at once…!"