CHAPTER 45: CRACKS IN THE ICE

[You used Asmodeus’s Touch directly on Ester Deathstriker’s breasts]

[You gained a bonus for touching the mission target’s breasts]

[Bonus: You caused sensitivity in Ester’s nipples; from now on, any contact with her breasts will be amplified by 70%]

"Ah... hehe... it worked..."

The silence in the hallway seemed to scream. Ester’s body was tense on top of his, and Damon’s hand still rested boldly against her breasts, as if he had every right to be there.

A devilish smile curved his lips.

"For someone as cold as you..." he said slowly, his voice low, drawling, and full of mockery. "You’re surprisingly warm."

Ester’s red pupils narrowed. A blush burned her face, but her eyes exuded fury. "Insolent..." she growled, and the air grew thick around her, the entire hallway beginning to be coated in a thin layer of ice. Crystals crept up the walls, crackling, as if the mansion itself had fallen prey to her fury.

Damon, still beneath her, showed no fear. Quite the contrary. His smile only widened, his eyes fixed on hers, as if savoring every second of the anger he was unleashing.

"Are you really going to freeze me here, Ester?" he asked teasingly. "Just because you liked the touch?"

She shivered. Shock coursed through her muscles, but then her expression hardened. Her fingers lifted, the air around her immediately dropping in temperature, so cold that Damon’s breath turned to steam.

A single movement, and she could bury him in a coffin of eternal ice.

But before she could unleash her attack, Damon spoke again, his voice filled with a calculated calm that disarmed any attempt at absolute control.

"If you do this... Countess Elizabeth won’t be pleased to know you killed her favorite toy."

The words fell like blades.

Ester froze—this time not because of the power she wielded, but because of the mention of the one person who couldn’t be contradicted.

Her eyes burned, her fangs slightly bared, her breathing uneven. The ice stopped advancing, crackling, as if even he hesitated at the thought of the Countess.

Damon took advantage of the silence, tilting his face slightly so his mouth was closer to hers.

"You may hate me, you may even want to destroy me..." the malicious smile never faded, "but you can’t."

Tension crackled in the air, almost palpable. Ester’s body trembled with rage, and perhaps with something else she refused to acknowledge.

She clenched her fists, the air around her trembling with energy.

"You’re a worm, Damon." A very bold worm.

He arched an eyebrow, chuckling softly, insolently.

"Perhaps. But a worm you can’t crush."

Ester gritted her teeth, shame burning beneath her pale skin. With each passing second, she felt more suffocated—not just by his insolence, but by the fact that, even with all her fury, Damon was right. Elizabeth wouldn’t allow her to touch him.

This was the invisible prison that infuriated her most.

With a sudden movement, she pushed against his chest and stood up. The air was still freezing, and the ground around them was covered in broken glass, but Ester had already withdrawn her attack.

Damon, however, remained on the ground, lying on his back, looking down at her with that same defiant smile.

"Nice show..." he said casually. "But in the end, you can only look at me with anger. Nothing more.

The blush on Ester’s face deepened. Her hand trembled slightly, but she turned away, her black cloak fluttering with the suddenness of her movement.

"Take advantage of your luck, Damon." Her voice was firm, but there was a barely perceptible crack there. "It won’t last forever."

Ester then walked down the hallway, her heels echoing like hammer blows against the stone. With each step, she tried to regain the coolness she had always carried—but inside, the chaos continued.

Damon stood slowly, straightening his clothes, and let out a low, satisfied laugh.

"Ah, Ester..." he murmured, staring at where she had disappeared around the bend. "The more you hate me... the more irresistible you become."

Ester’s trail was still in the air—cold, sharp, like invisible blades of ice scratching his skin. Damon took a deep breath, inhaling her scent mixed with her sweet, metallic perfume. A shiver ran down his spine, but not from fear. It was excitement.

He ran his hand over his chest, remembering the firmness of her breasts against his palm.

"Sensitivity at seventy percent, huh...?" she murmured in her mind, hearing the system’s voice echo in her mind like a knowing taunt. "This is going to be fun."

On the other side of the hallway, Ester walked quickly, her heart pounding, her heels echoing at a furious pace. Each beat seemed to scream inside her, a mixture of hatred and... shame.

Shame for what she had felt.

She brought her hand to her chest, clutching the fabric of her dress as if she could crush the heat that still burned beneath her skin. Her nipples throbbed, sensitive, each movement of her body making them brush against her clothing, as if his touch were still there.

Ester gritted her teeth.

"Damn... cheeky..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

But she couldn’t stop remembering.

His gaze, his insolent boldness, the sensation of being touched without permission—and worst of all: the part of her that had frozen, unable to react, when she felt that firm hand on her.

It wasn’t just anger. It was something gnawing at her insides, something she hated to admit.

She entered the room, slamming the door shut. Silence enveloped her, but even there she wasn’t free of his presence. Her body still burned.

Ester leaned against the wall, her red eyes blazing.

"This won’t happen again..." she promised herself. "It won’t."

...

That same night, Damon lay in Aria’s luxurious bed, sleeping in his arms after a restless night. The high ceiling and heavy curtains surrounded him, but his thoughts were far from comfort.

He remembered Ester’s body on his, the way she trembled with rage... and something else.

"Heh... she might be made of ice..." he murmured, his eyes half-closed, his tongue slowly swiping across his lips. "But I’ve already found the crack."

The system flashed before his eyes, like a silent notification:

[Side Mission Unlocked: "Break the Ice"]

[Objective: Make Ester Deathstriker lose control in the face of pleasure. Progress: 12%]

Damon chuckled softly, lying on his back, his arms behind his head.

"Ah... this is going to be delicious."

He closed his eyes, and he could almost hear her ragged breathing again, the tremor in her voice as her anger mingled with something else.

"Ester... you have no idea how much you’re already mine."

...

Meanwhile, Ester lay in bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time he closed his eyes, he relived the scene. The warmth against her chest, his teasing smile, his voice hinting that she liked it.

And the most painful part?

It was true.

Her body had reacted.

And now, even alone, the throbbing persisted—unbearable, shameful.

She pressed her legs together, trying to ignore the rush of heat rising in her belly.

"I... I won’t give in..." she murmured, her breath shaky. "Never..."