CHAPTER 51: NEW HAREM’S MEMBER - MIRA

"Vice Headmaster?" Lyra frowned as she looked at the middle-aged man standing before her, a flicker of disdain flashing in her eyes—though it quickly disappeared.

Standing before her was a tall, broad-shouldered man, roughly 180 cm in height, with brown hair, a square jaw, and a thick beard covering his chin.

He wore a noble’s crimson uniform, with a black cloak draped over his back. On the cloak was the insignia of a shield crossed by two swords.

He stood there with his back to Lyra, gazing out the window as if admiring the scenery.

"Why is it you? Where is the Headmaster?" Lyra asked.

"Why can’t it be me?" The middle-aged man slowly turned to face her, his expression unreadable and his gaze tinged with apathy.

"The Headmaster is occupied. For the time being, I’ll be overseeing all matters concerning the academy."

Lyra narrowed her eyes at the man and said, "Marlon, it was you who made that decision, wasn’t it?"

"That’s right." The man named Marlon didn’t deny or dodge the question—he answered directly. "You’ve been at this academy for over fifteen years, yet during all that time, you’ve never taken on a single disciple."

"Lyra, this place isn’t a church. We don’t provide everything for free. At the very least, you should contribute something to the Academy."

Lyra took a deep breath, her gaze turning sharp. "So I just need to take on a disciple, is that it?"

"Exactly," Marlon replied as he walked over to the desk, sat down, and clasped his hands in front of his stomach. "All you have to do is accept Lucien as your disciple and teach him until he graduates."

"I refuse!" Lyra said at once, walking up to Marlon’s desk, her killing intent surging like an icy wave. "According to the Academy’s rules, Professors have the right to choose their own disciples. No one can force them."

"Marlon, even if you’re the Vice Headmaster, you have no authority to force me to take Lucien as a disciple."

"You’re right—I don’t have that authority," Marlon said without fear, shrugging indifferently. "But you wouldn’t want everyone to know your secret... would you?"

"You..." Lyra’s eyes widened as soon as she heard the word secret.

Her hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, trembling slightly from both rage and shock.

"You’re threatening me?" Lyra asked, her voice so cold it felt like the room temperature had dropped several degrees.

Marlon let out a sigh and said, "I don’t want to do this either, but I owe his grandfather too much."

"You mean..." Lyra frowned.

"His grandfather is none other than the Grand General of the Terith Kingdom—Theobald Vortan," Marlon explained. "He wasn’t just my teacher, but also like an older brother, and he once saved my life."

"I had truly wanted to take Lucien in as my own disciple. However, the foreign races at the border are constantly launching attacks. I can’t stay idle here."

"That is why you are the most suitable person to be his mentor. But don’t worry—Lucien has a good character. He’s pure-hearted, loves justice, and despises evil."

"In the future, he will surely shine brilliantly. Right now, he’s still just an unpolished gem, waiting for you to refine him."

Lyra frowned, but Marlon’s reasoning left her with no room to refuse—especially since he held her secret.

"A good character? Loves justice?" Lyra sneered. "If he were that kind of person, he wouldn’t have challenged Prince Lathel to fight over the Princess Consort."

"Ah! So you already know about that?" Marlon raised an eyebrow, sounding mildly surprised. "Youth... making a few mistakes is no big deal. Besides, is it wrong for someone to fight for love?"

"Of course it’s not wrong, but... that girl isn’t some object he can wager like a piece of property," Lyra said with visible displeasure.

"Lyra..." Marlon sighed. "That’s a matter between young people. We shouldn’t interfere. Your task is simply to educate Lucien well—that’s enough."

She frowned. "What a coincidence. I was also planning to accept Prince Lathel and his maid as my disciples. I’m afraid taking Lucien as well will make Lathel feel dissatisfied."

"Hmm?!" Marlon frowned, his expression turning puzzled. "Why? He’s just a useless nobody. Why would you take someone like him as your disciple?"

"Even if he is useless, his character shines far brighter than someone who only gets into the academy through connections."

Marlon let out a long sigh and waved his hand. "Fine. I don’t care why you want to take Lathel and his maid as disciples. As long as they can pass the trial, I’ll accept it."

"But you must accept Lucien as your disciple. And if I learn that you’ve mistreated him or treated him unfairly, I will..."

"I understand," Lyra interrupted coldly. "However, I also have one condition."

Marlon fell silent, waiting for her to speak.

"If he becomes my disciple, then he must follow my methods of teaching. If he can’t endure it, he can quit."

"Agreed!" Marlon responded without hesitation. "I believe the grandson of Theobald is no weakling."

"If he is weak, then removing him from your list of disciples would be entirely reasonable."

Lyra gave a slight nod and said, "Let’s hope you remember those words."

With that, she immediately turned and left the room.

Marlon stared at the closed door and murmured, "Lucien... this is as far as I can help you. I hope you’ll finish the path your grandfather left behind."

...

At night, Selvia climbed onto Lathel’s bed, smiling as she said, "Lathel, your wounds..."

Lathel gently caressed her face and softly replied, "Don’t worry, thanks to Professor Lyra, my injuries are already fine."

"Ah! I’m sorry, Lathel. I... I couldn’t help you at all." Selvia bit her lip, her expression tinged with sadness and guilt.

"Don’t say that." Lathel leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. His warm, masculine breath brushed against her face, making her blush and her heart race in embarrassment.

"No matter what happens, you will always be my wife, Selvia."

Hearing those words, Selvia felt her heart melt. In that moment, all she wanted was to hug him tightly and offer him every ounce of her tenderness and femininity.

However, she knew exactly what she had planned for tonight.

Selvia took a deep breath and whispered, "Lathel... I love you."

"I love you too, Selvia." Lathel lowered his head and kissed her soft, rosy lips.

The kiss lasted so long that Selvia’s lips began to ache, her tongue tingling, before it finally ended.

"Um... Lathel... I... I want to give you a surprise," Selvia said shyly.

"Hm?!" Lathel seemed to realize something, but he still feigned surprise, then smiled warmly and said, "What surprise?"

"Could you... close your eyes for a moment, please?"

Hearing that, Lathel laughed inwardly. He knew exactly what she was planning, but he still played along with her request.

He closed his eyes, and soon felt a piece of fabric being tied securely over them, completely blocking his vision.

"Hehehe..." Selvia giggled mischievously. "Lathel... stay right here, I need to prepare something."

"Uhm!" Lathel feigned surprise and replied, "I’ll wait for you."

Then, he heard the door open and close, followed by light footsteps as if someone was trying their best to make no sound.

But Lathel was no longer an ordinary man.

He could smell the scent of the person entering the room. In fact, with his Space affinity, he could clearly perceive who it was without needing to open his eyes.

That’s right— the person who had entered the room was Mira.

She was wearing a short nightdress that reached only to her thighs. She had even sprayed herself with Selvia’s perfume to prevent Lathel from noticing who she truly was.

Mira’s heart pounded like war drums, her face flushed deep red from embarrassment. Even her ears, neck, and skin were tinged with a pink hue.

She was so nervous her breath had quickened, her hands trembled slightly, but she still clutched tightly at the cute nightdress she was wearing.

Step by step, Mira approached Lathel, and with each step closer, it felt as though her heart skipped a beat.

’The Prince is right in front of me...’ her mind was in complete disarray. ’He’s... he’s right here.’

’Will this really work...?’

’Would he realize that I’ve taken Selvia’s place?’

’Would he hate me?’

Mira was so anxious that her teeth bit into her lip, causing a trickle of blood to seep out.

But as she approached Lathel, before she could fully prepare herself, his hand reached out and wrapped around her waist.

"Selvia... I want you..." Lathel pretended to call out Selvia’s name, though he knew full well that the person he was holding was Mira.

He gently pressed her onto the bed, not giving her a chance to speak, and immediately kissed her soft lips, tinged with a hint of blood.

When Mira had first entered the room, she was so nervous she nearly cried, but now, she was completely immersed in the sweetness and love that Lathel brought her.

She pressed her lips tightly together, trying to suppress the moans of desire that threatened to escape her mouth.

A moment later, Mira felt something large slowly entering her.

But she didn’t pull away or feel afraid; instead, she found herself anticipating it.

Mira wrapped her arms around Lathel’s neck, holding him so tightly it was as if she wanted their bodies to melt into one.

At that moment, as it entered her, Mira could no longer hold back, and a lascivious moan escaped her lips.

"Um... hmm... mm..."

Mira startled, so frightened it felt as though her soul had momentarily left her body.

But Lathel seemed not to notice, his blindfold still covering his eyes.

At that moment, Mira suddenly grew bolder, holding him tightly and beginning to revel in the blissful, sweet sensation that felt like opening a door to a new world.

[Ding! Congratulations on gaining a new member in your harem.

Mira’s EXP point function will be activated at 00:00 on the new day.

Enjoy yourself.]