Chapter 178: I choose you.
Elizabeth kept her gaze on the succubus for a few more seconds, as if assessing not only her physical state, but sothing deeper—echoes, connections, invisible marks left by everything she had been through.
Then she straightened her posture and spoke, with the sa absolute calm that always accompanied her.
"Take her inside," she said softly. "The room is already prepared."
She made a discreet gesture with her hand.
"Third wing, inner corridor. Light protections, nothing that will make her feel trapped. She will need to sleep... and wake without fear."
Two servants appeared almost instantly, bowing respectfully. Elizabeth turned her gaze to Damon, still carefully carrying the succubus.
"You can take her there," she added. "I think it will be... better that way."
Damon nodded without arguing.
"Of course."
He adjusted his body in his arms, ensuring the succubus remained comfortable, and began walking toward the mansion’s entrance. Aria and Esther followed, but Elizabeth raised her hand slightly.
"Esther, Aria... one mont."
The two stopped.
Elizabeth waited for Damon to move a few ters away, until the main door closed behind him, muffling the sounds from inside the mansion.
Then she smiled—a small, calculated smile.
"You did exactly what I expected," she said. "Perhaps a little more."
Aria shrugged.
"That often happens."
Esther tilted her head.
"The market will react," she warned. "Nothing in Arven happens without consequences."
"I know," Elizabeth replied calmly. "And I’m already dealing with it."
She turned slightly, observing the direction Damon had disappeared.
"When he’s finished settling her in," she continued, "tell Damon I want to speak with him. Alone."
Aria raised an eyebrow.
"Alone?" she repeated, barely concealing her tone.
Elizabeth gave her a brief, discerning look—not harsh, but sharp enough to be understood.
"Yes," she confird. "There are matters that don’t concern swords... nor field strategies."
Aria’s expression hardened for a mont, then she nodded.
"I’ll let him know."
Elizabeth resud walking toward the entrance, but before crossing the threshold, she spoke again, without turning around:
"And Aria?"
"Hmm?"
"Poorly managed jealousy often causes more damage than open battles."
Aria stood motionless for a split second.
Then she huffed, crossing her arms more tightly.
"Good night to you too."
Elizabeth smiled—this ti, genuinely—and entered the mansion.
The room was spacious, silent, and ward by a soft, runic fla embedded in the walls. Thick curtains filtered the morning light, leaving the room in a perpetual state of comfortable twilight.
Damon laid the succubus on the bed with extre care.
She stirred slightly as she was settled, murmuring sothing inaudible, but did not wake. Her features relaxed even further, as if the environnt itself were telling her body that it was now safe to rest.
He pulled the cloak up to cover her better.
For a few seconds, he simply stood there.
Observing.
Breathing.
Then he stepped away.
As he left the room, he found Aria leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, an unreadable expression.
"Elizabeth wants to talk to you," she said. "Alone."
Damon sighed softly.
"Of course she does." He walked past Aria, but stopped beside her for a mont.
"Hey," he said more softly. "Don’t complicate things in your head."
She turned her face slowly.
"Just don’t disappear again," she replied. "So people... don’t like that."
Damon smiled slightly.
"Noted."
He walked down the inner corridor toward Elizabeth’s office, knowing full well that this conversation wouldn’t be simple.
Nor short.
And definitely... it wouldn’t just be about the succubus.
Damon pushed open the office door unceremoniously.
The room was exactly as he rembered it: spacious, silent, illuminated by a soft amber light emanating from runic crystals embedded in the walls. Tall bookshelves filled almost the entire space, brimming with ancient books, sealed scrolls, and artifacts that exuded contained power. The air inside carried the subtle scent of ink, leather, and sothing older—authority.
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the central table.
Not behind it.
On the edge.
Her legs were casually crossed, her hands resting at her sides, a posture too relaxed for soone who commanded half of Mirath’s invisible political forces. The dark dress fell perfectly, and the light made her silhouette seem even more serene... and dangerous.
When Damon entered, she smiled.
Not a strategic smile.
A genuinely satisfied smile.
"You did a great job," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Better than I expected."
Damon closed the door behind him and leaned against one of the nearby columns, arms crossed.
"I’m happy to et expectations," he replied. "Especially when they involve blowing up illegal markets."
Elizabeth chuckled softly.
"Arven will take months to recover," she remarked. "Maybe years." Her eyes glead for a mont. "You caused more than a rescue. You caused an imbalance."
She slid off the table, standing in front of him, but maintaining a respectful—almost provocative—distance.
"And I always reward those who cause useful imbalances."
She looked him straight in the eye.
"So," she continued, her voice calm and firm, "what do you want, Damon? I can give you whatever you want."
There was a brief silence.
The kind of silence where important decisions are often born.
Damon tilted his head slightly, thoughtful.
"Before I answer," he said, "I want to know one thing."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
"Of course."
"The succubus," he continued. "Is she really safe here? Without invisible chains. Without debts disguised as gratitude." Elizabeth’s smile softened.
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "She’s under my protection, not my possession. If she wants to stay, she’ll stay. If she wants to leave soday, she’ll leave."
She took a small step forward.
"But I imagine that influences your answer."
Damon held her gaze for a few seconds, assessing sothing beyond words.
Then he took a deep breath.
"I don’t want gold," he said. "Nor titles."
Elizabeth didn’t seem surprised.
"Expected."
"I want you," Damon continued. "Well, interpret that however you want." He laughed... it was a guess, after all... the system was saying sothing.
[Choose Elizabeth]
Elizabeth looked at Damon, and could only smile.
Elizabeth remained silent for a mont.
It wasn’t surprise.
It wasn’t shock.
It was... assessnt.
Her smile deepened slowly, taking on a dangerous curve, the kind that doesn’t deny—tests boundaries.
"?" she repeated softly. "Do you realize what you’re asking, Damon?"
She took two steps forward, closing the distance between them until her presence beca impossible to ignore. There was no hurry in her movents. Each step was calculated, as if she had all the ti in the world—because, in practice, she did.
"I’m too big a prize," she continued. "Too political. Too old-fashioned. Too complicated." She tilted her head slightly. "So would say... dangerous."
Damon watched in silence, the crooked smile still on his face.
"You said ’anything,’" he replied calmly. "I just chose honestly."
Elizabeth chuckled softly.
"Is that your defense?" she asked. "Literalness?"
"It works surprisingly well with powerful entities," he replied. "Normally, they’re the ones who put the words on the table."
She crossed her arms, studying him with renewed attention.
"You know I’m not a prize," she said. "I’m not sothing to be given, granted, or won."
Her gaze sharpened.
"So tell , Damon... are you asking
because you desire ? Or because you see
as a thing?"
The word "thing" hung heavy in the air.
For a mont, the atmosphere seed colder.
Damon’s smile faded.
He straightened up, uncrossing his arms, and answered without hesitation:
"If I saw you as a thing," he said calmly, "I would have asked for power. Information. Influence. An army."
He took a step forward as well, now almost the sa distance apart.
"Things are useful," he continued. "You are not."
Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on his, unblinking.
"Then what am I?" she asked. Damon thought for a split second—not to invent sothing beautiful, but to choose sothing true.
"A choice," he replied. "That only makes sense if it’s made by both sides."
The silence that followed was different from the previous one.
Deeper.
More intimate.
Elizabeth let out a slow sigh and then smiled again—but now there was sothing different there. Sothing less calculated. More... human. Or perhaps more demonic.
"You’re dangerous," she said. "Not because of what you can do. But because of the way you talk."
"They usually say that," Damon replied. "Usually after it’s too late."
She took another step closer, until she was just inches from him.
"Do you have any idea how many problems I bring with ?" she asked, almost confidentially. "Enemies? Gas that don’t allow for mistakes?"
"I do," Damon said. "And yet, I’m here."
Elizabeth stared at him for long seconds.
Then she reached out her hand.
Not to touch him.
To lift his chin with a single finger.
"What if I told you that accepting you... doesn’t an protecting you?" she asked. "It ans pulling you deeper."
Damon smiled again—but now there was sothing more serious behind it.
"Good," he said. "I’ve always hated shallow waters."
She laughed.
A short, genuine, almost incredulous laugh.
"You really don’t know when to back down," she murmured.
"If I did," he replied, "I wouldn’t be here."
Elizabeth slowly pulled her hand away and sat back down on the edge of the table, crossing her legs again.
"You asked for sothing I can’t simply grant as a reward," she said. "But I can... consider it."
She tilted her head.
"Provided you understand one thing."
"What?" Damon asked.
"If I choose you," she said, with absolute calm, "it won’t be as a prize. It will be as an equal."
She smiled slightly.
"And that usually scares more than any cage."
Damon held her gaze.
"Then we’re in agreent," he said. "I never liked cages."
Elizabeth watched him for a few more seconds.
Then she nodded slowly.
"We’ll see," she said. "But know this, Damon..."
She smiled.
"You just made your life a lot more interesting."
He chuckled softly.
"Mission accomplished, then."
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