Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!-Chapter 151: The Night of the Auction - Preparation... A Nervous Maiden

Leonhardt stood in front of the frozen mirror in his room, Sylvie's body curled in the sheets, her pale skin kissed with violet light from the crystal lanterns embedded in the walls.

She barely stirred beneath the silk covers, one pale thigh slipping free, the rest of her buried in warmth. Her breath fogged the sheets near her lips, every exhale a soft mist.

The marks on her hips, her thighs, and the kiss marks laced the curve of her collarbone—still fresh. His handprints. A dozen delicate fingerprints from when she clung to him like he might melt and disappear.

A girl made of winter, held tightly until even ice burned.

Leonhardt adjusted the cuffs of his dark coat, the mirror showing the faint trails of steam rising from his bare chest as he shrugged the fabric into place.

He didn't look at Sylvie.

He didn't need to.

The smell of her was still on his tongue.

Outside the mirror, a ripple of mana buzzed against the warded door—a soft, three-part signal. Not urgent.

"Nn... do you have to leave, Leon?" Sylvie purred from the covers, peeking at him with her ice-blue eyes. She didn't have the energy to move, and so she used her eyelashes to appeal to him, blinking rapidly, fluttering them.

"I do, you know... that's why I spent the night with you and Asuka, look, she hasn't even moved since I finished."

The beautiful dragonoid's caramel skin shimmered with a glossy sheen, kiss marks along her thighs and her soft buttocks, as she lost consciousness with her face pressed against the soft velvet pillows, and her hips locked into the air, dripping with a thick, musky scent.

"She looks super happy right now..." Sylvie muttered, watching Leonhardt's seed dripping in thick globs down Asuka's inner thigh.

"Behave for me, okay?"

Sylvie's lips curled, but she didn't rise. Her tail flicked once beneath the sheets, stirring the misty warmth of the room. "You spoil us and then expect obedience," she said, her voice a slow drip of sarcasm sweetened with need. "Typical man."

Leonhardt didn't respond at first. He merely adjusted the buckle of his black leather gauntlet, the gleam of monster-hide catching a spark of violet from the lanterns.

"I expect loyalty," he said. "Obedience is optional."

Sylvie gave a soft, sleepy laugh, but her eyes followed him. "And what if I stopped behaving?"

He moved to the door, pausing just long enough to glance over his shoulder—one slow look, the kind that made demons hesitate and made lovers burn.

"Then I'd remind you why you never forget me."

The door opened with a faint pulse of mana, the glyph on the wall dimming as he stepped into the throne room and vanished.

He stopped for a moment before looking back at her. Sylvie looked like a fragile piece of broken ice and smiled.

"Rest well, my little snowflake."

———

Sylvie didn't reply. Not at first.

Her fingers curled softly around the edge of the blanket, watching the door close behind him, his last words echoing in the quiet like breath caught between ribs.

My little snowflake.

Her cheeks flared with heat—an impossible thing for someone who lived in sub-zero mana. She scoffed, but the sound was weak, caught between a pout and something closer to a whimper. "Idiot…"

Sylvie slipped from the bed slowly, her bare feet pressing against the warm monster-fur carpet. The cool mist of her body followed, thin trails like morning frost wrapping around her thighs. She held the sheet loosely around herself as she walked to the side chamber, where steam coiled against the walls of the Roman-style bathhouse.

The tiles clicked softly beneath her as she stepped into the room, the magical heat stones humming gently underfoot.

Sylvie dropped the sheet and slid into the water without ceremony. It hissed around her skin, a flash of ice blooming from her thighs to the surface—until the enchantments kicked in, regulating the heat, holding the balance between scalding and frost.

But it still didn't feel the same.

"I feel so cold when you aren't here..." speaking in a barely audible voice over the quiet bubbling springs. "I miss you already..."

She sank deeper, up to her collarbones, her white hair floating like snow in the water. Her toes pressed against the smooth stone beneath her. The bath was wide, meant for many. But now it just felt... empty.

Sylvie's arms leaned on her knees while tracing the surface of the water with her fingers, making small ripples.

"I always say things I don't mean..." Her eyes closed, the ice becoming stronger as her temperature fluctuated because of emotion. "I hope he knows that..."

She leaned her head back against the stone edge, exhaling slowly. Her body shimmered with a faint layer of magic, her natural cold seeping into the room and chilling the edges of the bath once more.

"…I'll behave," she whispered.

"Even if I like misbehaving." Sylvie leaned against the cold bath wall and curled her lips into a mischievous smile.

"My handsome Leonhardt."

——

The throne room welcomed him in silence.

Not a cold one—his dungeon never was. But it was a silence made of breathless tension, like the moment before a sword is drawn, or a kiss stolen. Light pulsed faintly through the engraved glyphs in the black marble walls. Silver veins shimmered beneath his feet, feeding life to the dungeon's heart, whispering of plans and monsters, of evolution and war. freēnovelkiss.com

Leonhardt descended the steps to his throne slowly, hands behind his back, coat fluttering.

Two women stood near the dais.

One, poised and curved like temptation in flesh—Zafira, waiting at the side of the throne with her usual wine-red smile, golden eyes half-lidded. Her dress clung like sin stitched into silk, and her wings were folded primly behind her as if that could hide the hunger in her gaze.

The other—new.

Erina.

She stood straighter than a soldier and more rigid than a statue, dressed in a simple travelling coat and leather boots that still carried dust from Arlet. Her green eyes were wide, darting from rune to rune, the walls reflecting soft gold in her hair.

He watched her breathe.

She didn't realise she held her breath until she let it out in a trembling sigh. One step into Leonhardt's domain and she looked as though she'd wandered into the belly of something divine, or profane—and didn't know whether to kneel or run.

'She came,' he thought. 'Even knowing I might be a monster.'

His eyes flicked between the two.

Zafira, warm and jealous, who had bared everything to him already. Her tongue, her thoughts, her madness, her loyalty.

Erina, trembling and confused, but still she came. Still, she wanted to understand.

'And upstairs…'

Asuka's body had curled instinctively around Sylvie's pillow when he left, their breathing in sync, even in sleep. He could still taste both of them on his tongue. Asuka's fire, Sylvie's frost. Opposites that somehow never burned him.

And now… this.

"Welcome," Leonhardt said finally, his voice smooth, sharp, and deep. "To my throne."

He didn't smile.

He just looked at them.

First Zafira.

Then Erina.

"My dear saintess."

Zafira's eyes shone a dull gold shade, her tail snapping in the air, clearly feeling jealous over his treatment of Erina, but Leonhardt didn't stop or change his way. He peeked at Griv wearing his slightly messy, but charming, goblin butler outfit.

He noticed that Erina's eyes widened and her mouth trembled, unable to speak. Maybe the difference between the outside Leonhardt and the inside shocked her.

'Or was it the goblin army... and fortress hidden in the flaming forest?'

"Griv, did you prepare for the auction? How much currency did we manage to acquire?"

Griv stepped forward and lowered himself with an exaggerated bow, one gloved hand tucked backhand his back, with the other wrapped around his chest, making his hunched posture seem almost theatrical.

"Ah, yes, Sire," he said with a silky grin, monocle gleaming as he adjusted it on his crooked nose. "Our coffers currently boast eight platinum crests, one hundred and seventy-two gold marks, and enough assorted gems to bankrupt a barony—courtesy of our latest trade with the Flameback kobolds and a few, shall we say, generously disarmed mercenary groups."

He cleared his throat delicately.

"Oh, and Mistress Zafira's delightful intimidation tactics helped secure the deal at a… discount."

Zafira let out a soft, pleased hum, her wing brushing Leonhardt's arm in silent praise.

"Good," Leonhardt replied without looking at her. "Tell Snaggle to continue hoarding. No bids unless I give the signal."

"As you wish, my Lord." Griv turned, but not before shooting Erina a curious glance. "And shall I prepare a mask for our guest?"

Erina flinched slightly, eyes darting to Leonhardt, unsure if she was the guest in question or something more like a pawn.

Leonhardt raised a single brow. "She'll need one—prepare one for each of us. Griv."

He walked down the last step and approached Erina directly. With each measured step, his boots tapped the ground against the marble floor. Leonhardt could see the look on Erina's face, detecting her discomfort.

"You are safe here, Erina." Leonhardt's eyes narrowed. Then he sighed. "Though it seems you don't believe me."

"I…" she began, then stopped.

Her voice cracked on the first syllable. Too many questions. Too much weight behind them.

Leonhardt tilted his head slightly. "Speak."

Erina's lips parted again, and she responded with a firm yet soft voice.

"I feel like I shouldn't be seeing this... this part of you."

Leonhardt's eyes relaxed, like heated glass that hadn't quite melted.

"Because you're not. Yet you still came."

His fingers brushed the edge of her shoulder, just enough to make her breath catch.

"You could've turned back. But you didn't. That matters more than you know."

Zafira's gaze darkened, her smile now tight and unreadable.

The room held its breath again.

A saintess, a succubus, a goblin butler and a monster on a throne.

And the game had only just begun.