Takuya sprawled on the guest chamber's bed, its crimson silk sheets softer than anything his old NEET life had ever touched, a luxury that mocked his throbbing arousal.
The room was a cocoon of quiet opulence—polished oak panels, a velvet-draped window filtering moonlight, a faint lavender scent lingering in the air.
His thoughts churned, gears turning as he pieced together Seraphina's puzzle.
Her control wasn't just posture or icy words—it was a ritual, a fortress of habit wrapped in silk and velvet.
The gloves weren't mere fashion; they were her armor, a shield against desire.
Every twitch of her fingers, every creak of velvet when he'd grazed her thigh—it was her restraint cracking.
That moan, caught like a caged bird, proved it. Her gloves are the key. Break them, and she's mine.
The system flared, crimson text unfurling like a lover's scroll:
System Thread: Symbolic Leverage – Active
Primary Focus: Lady Seraphina Grellhart – "Gloves as Shield"
Suggested Strategy:
– Initiate physical glove contact during structured public activity
– Leverage etiquette or social custom as excuse
– Amplify tension via slow buildup and controlled breach of decorum
Progress toward MILF Affinity I: 60%
Takuya's grin widened, his mind scripting a public seduction—Seraphina's ice-blue eyes fluttering, her velvet glove trembling under his touch, noble onlookers oblivious to her unraveling.
Etiquette training? Oh, I'll make her squirm in front of them all.
A knock tapped at the door, sharp and prim.
It opened to reveal a junior maid, young and nervous, her uniform loose but hinting at curves beneath.
"The Lady requests your presence in the dining gallery," she said, eyes darting to his open coat.
"For posture rehearsal before tonight's noble dinner."
Takuya rose slowly, fixing his cuffs with a theatrical flourish, his Arousal Aura brushing her senses, her cheeks flushing faintly.
"Tell her I'll be on my best behavior," he said, voice smooth and teasing, his grin promising anything but.
The maid nodded, turning to leave, but a warm breeze grazed the back of Takuya's neck—too sultry, too intimate to be natural.
Lyseria's voice whispered, her breath brushing his earlobe like a phantom kiss, "Seduce the symbol, and the woman will follow."
Her scent—rose oil and sin—flooded his senses, his cock twitching painfully in the trousers.
The door shut with a soft click, the maid's steps fading.
Takuya exhaled, his pervert brain alight with glee.
Gloves in public. Etiquette as a weapon. Seraphina's gonna melt.
The dining gallery loomed, a stage for his next move, and he was ready to make her armor—those velvet gloves—shiver before they fell.