It was always unusual to leave the basement, inhabited only by ladies, into the quiet rooms of the mansion, no matter how much time you spent with such an order of life. The candlelight danced, leaving a soft glow on the walls as your feet guided you to the master's chambers.

Nothing changed from time to time, even though you were favored in the bedroom much more than other women, which, of course, made you feel proud. Once an aristocrat, you still socialized with your own kind, and not with peasant women or dressmakers, of whom the harem was full.

It's strange, but you didn't even have the thoughts to escape, as well as the opportunity. Completely submitting to Vergil, you accepted that you were here only to decorate his bedroom sometimes, without feeling either love or tenderness. Only an all-consuming desire, lust and complete dependence on him.

"Come here."

You obey, as usual, while he reaches out to you, hugging you around the waist and tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. Short moments, similar to the ordinary relationships you read about in sentimental romantic books earlier, made your heart flutter.