Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!-Chapter 150: The Day Before the Auction

Leonhardt escaped from Thalia's warm clutches and her sultry attempt to seduce him.

The warp glyph beneath his feet flickered out. The silence after was absolute. No claws clicking, no silk rustling, no perfume spun from pheromones and pheromone-drenched hunger. Just stone. Rune-lit, cold, loyal stone.

He slumped into his throne—not like a king returning, but like a man re-entering a skin too tight. The imprint of Thalisa's body still lingered on his frame. Her warmth clung like static.

His fingers curled around the armrest, not in command, but to anchor himself. Something in him still throbbed—not from desire, but recoil. The throne room, once a monument to his dominion, felt smaller now. Claustrophobic. The glyphs pulsing along the walls watched him like old ghosts waiting for a confession.

He exhaled slowly, with a sharp breath.

It wasn't guilt that gnawed at him. It was the echo of control he almost gave up.

Leonhardt finally relaxed, breathing out and resting his head against the soft cushion.

"The church, demons... and Astrea. Everything is happening at once."

Tomorrow, he would attend the black briar auction with two people... Leonhardt would probably take Zafira and then Erina, not because he didn't trust Sylvie or Asuka, but because he felt it was too dangerous to leave the foolish blonde priestess alone right now.

'I should contact Dia.'

A ripple of light responded to his thoughts.

The throne obeyed.

One of the minor glyphs to his right shimmered, rotating in midair like a coin caught between two fates. Then it split, glowing threads of pink and silver weaving into a projection sigil. A thin circle opened, pulsing once before forming the soft silhouette of a kneeling figure.

Dia appeared—masked, of course. She always kept the cat-shaped porcelain mask when outside Arlet. Her golden hair spilt from beneath the hood, loose and catching the glyph-light like molten glass.

She bowed, then spoke in that flat, ever-obedient tone.

"…Master."

Leonhardt tilted his head against the throne cushion.

The brainwashing was far too strong now,

Maybe it could have backfired if Enzo was more cautious, but now, thanks to making Erina the most important thing to Dia, his image slowly faded with each session of altering her mind. freewebnoveℓ.com

Her voice was steady. But she was always constant. That was the danger of brainwashing someone so completely—they became mirrors, not people. You could see yourself in them too clearly.

"Report."

Dia raised her head. Her tone never changed.

"No activity in Arlet village. The merchants continue their trade. The Crimson Hawk mercenaries follow orders. Lady Erina—"

"Call her Erina."

Dia paused. Then bowed again. "Erina continues to visit the chapel ruins alone. She has not spoken to the villagers about your identity."

Leonhardt's eyes half-lidded.

"She prays?"

"Yes."

"To a god that abandoned her," he murmured.

"…Yes."

He leaned forward, fingers drumming against the armrest. The cold click of bone against marble echoed.

"Are you still protecting her like I ordered?"

"Yes. She believes I'm a concerned mercenary who is close to her father and with distant ties to the church."

"And how do you feel?" he asked casually. Almost too casually.

Dia hesitated.

"I… feel she is too soft."

That made him smirk.

"Good. Stay close. Watch the villagers. If even one starts acting suspiciously, kill them and then tell me. If they make contact with the church… wipe them all out."

"I will deal with them," Dia finished for him.

Leonhardt nodded, then his voice dropped, lower, smooth.

"And if she begins to question who you are…?"

"I will mislead her."

His smile faded.

"No. You'll protect her."

A flicker ran through Dia's projection.

"Even from you, Master?"

Leonhardt's gaze didn't change.

"Especially from me."

The sigil shimmered, then vanished.

Darkness returned.

He sat alone again. Back straight, one leg crossed over the other. The shadows of the throne room curled closer, like silk returning to a loom.

Then came the knock.

Soft.

Two taps.

He didn't move.

Only after the door creaked open did he speak.

"…Enter."

Zafira's golden eyes appeared first—sharp slits in the dark like a predator sniffing out the edge of warmth. Her silhouette followed, framed in the flickering rune-light. Velvet black wings folded behind her back, twitching once before curling at her sides.

She wore a dress that shouldn't have been possible in this world. Crimson silk, stitched with shadow, tight where it needed to be, loose where it didn't matter. The neckline plunged, obscene and elegant, teasing the swell of her breasts with every step. Her long legs were bare beneath the slit, visible with each sway of her hips.

She didn't knock.

Didn't need to.

Her arrival felt like perfume—a heat that slipped under the door and filled the room before the door ever opened.

Two crystal glasses dangled from her fingers, a bottle of Papillon balanced in the other.

"My, my… all alone in the dark again?" she said, voice purring with amusement. "You'll make me think the spiders did something very naughty to you."

Leonhardt didn't move.

He watched her with the same stillness he showed to enemies before the killing blow. No warmth. Just silence. Stillness.

Zafira took that as permission.

She climbed onto his lap, rubbing her smooth thighs with a gentle smile, leaning against Leonhardt's chest as she poked his cheek. "What did those slutty spiders say, did they ask for your seed again?"

Her slight touch of Jealousy made Leonhardt smirk. "No, but the church seems to be serious, I will be taking you and Erina tomorrow. Is that alright?"

Zafira's lips parted in a slow, deliberate smirk. One that curved like a blade, pleased, but also sharpened at the tip.

Her fingers trailed up his chest, lazy little spirals that teased rather than tempted. "Taking me to an auction filled with nobles, criminals, and demons?" she murmured. "Master, are you trying to spoil me?"

Leonhardt's hands didn't move. His eyes remained on hers—unflinching, unreadable.

"You're the only one I can trust not to fall apart if things go wrong."

"Mm. How romantic." Her voice was velvet and smoke, but her gaze flicked—just briefly—toward the wine bottle as if weighing what kind of night this was meant to be. "And the priestess? Why her?"

Leonhardt exhaled once, not quite a sigh.

"Because she doesn't understand the game yet. And they might try to use her. Especially if they learn she's still alive."

Zafira's pupils narrowed.

She leaned in, her breath ghosting against his lips.

"Will she behave?" she asked, too softly.

"She will," he said.

"And if she doesn't?" she whispered.

Leonhardt's eyes gleamed red in the low light.

"Then she'll learn."

That seemed to satisfy her, for now. Zafira sat back against his chest again, nestling like a cat that had claimed its territory. Her wings shifted slightly, brushing the marble behind them.

"Fine," she said. "But if she so much as looks at you like she's caught feelings… I'll make her sit on a burning altar until the gods notice."

Leonhardt chuckled. "You're already more goddess than them."

His words took Zafira by surprised, her cheeks turning red as she looked away from him, fluttering her wings and wrapping her tail around his thigh. "You... sometimes, you really catch me off guard."

"Well, that's what I want... such a cute succubus, how could I not?"

"Oh, I know."

She uncorked the Papillon with a soft pop, the aroma thick and sweet—dark cherries, warm spices, a hint of blood.

"Let's drink," she whispered. "To tomorrow. To games. To watching nobles lie with tongues dipped in gold."

She poured the wine and handed him a glass. Their fingers brushed, hers warm, his unnervingly cold tonight.

Zafira didn't comment.

She just raised her glass and clinked his.

"To your enemies' disappointment," she said, "and my satisfaction."

"It feels like you make me drink every night... are you trying to make me commit another mistake?" Leonhardt took a sip while glancing at the beauty on his lap.

The wine soothing his mood.

The night didn't end with laughter or heat. Not this time. Just two monsters wrapped in silence—drinking, watching the walls flicker.

Even a succubus just wanted to enjoy the body heat of their beloved sometimes, and the same for Leonhardt. He didn't return to the bed and instead watched various reports and visions on the throne, together with Zafira.

And waiting for dawn to deliver a new day.