Demonic Dragon: Harem System - Chapter 725
Chapter 725: How interesting!
The meeting room seemed larger than usual that morning. Or perhaps it was just Mercedes who felt smaller, shrunk within her own exhaustion. The blue torches flickered on the walls and the large ice table gleamed in the cold light… but the Monarch registered none of it.
Her mind was elsewhere.
Or rather, on another night.
Again.
The soldier in front of her talked, talked, talked—a river of formal words, numbers, reports, patrol names, movement on the northern flanks… all very important.
And absolutely nothing registered.
Because the only sound her head repeated was something else.
Groans.
Sighs.
The creaking of the mattress…
The rhythm…
The muffled laughter…
Mercedes squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, pretending to be deeply thinking about the report, but in reality, mentally begging for a truce. Her own memory was being too cruel.
That same night—the second in a row—she had tried everything to sleep. Reading material. Piled-up work. Hot tea. Extreme cold. Pillow on her head. Silent prayer to her ancestors. Nothing worked.
Nothing muffled the sound from the next room.
And she hated—hated—how much it affected her. And how Scarlett seemed to make a point of vocalizing every miserable second of pleasure just to torture her.
Even now, standing there with impeccable posture and hands clasped behind her back, a shy blush insisted on rising to her neck.
“…so we believe that reinforcing the side barrier would be—”
“Ah—” She almost choked on the sound she heard inside her own head, remembering a particularly loud moan from the redhead.
And the soldier thought it was a reaction to what he said.
“Yes, exactly, Your Majesty! As I was saying, if we reinforce—”
But Mercedes wasn’t hearing anything anymore.
Because at that very moment, the treacherous memory brought back the mental image of Strax… and the way Scarlet laughed before moaning… and how unbearably hot it made her skin.
Why were they making so much noise?
Why was their room so close to hers?
Why was she… acting strange?
Was it envy?
Was it irritation?
Was it frustration?
Was it a horrible combination of everything?
Mercedes didn’t know.
And she hated that she was feeling anything.
“Your Majesty?”
The soldier’s voice entered her mind like a stab of reality. She blinked, returning to the present so quickly that she even shook her head slightly.
“…yes?” she asked, her composure slipping by a thread.
The soldier seemed hesitant.
“With all due respect… you don’t seem… well.”
Great.
Now even the soldiers were noticing.
Mercedes straightened her posture, trying to ignore the exhaustion burning under her eyes. Perhaps if she had slept at least three hours… but no. The palace walls had spent the night transmitting everything.
“I’m perfectly fine,” she lied, her voice cold and firm. “Just… processing the information.”
The soldier didn’t seem convinced, but he tilted his head.
“Can I continue?”
No.
For the love of eternal ice, no.
Her mind could no longer try to focus while memories invaded, bringing sensations that were too hot, too uncomfortable, too intimate.
“No,” she said quickly. “I’ve heard enough. You can leave.”
He hesitated, but obeyed.
When the door closed and Mercedes was finally alone, her shoulders slumped for a moment.
She rested both hands on the table, taking a deep breath.
Second day without sleep.
Second day listening to them.
The second day was getting strange, hot, irritated, embarrassed, confused, all at the same time.
She murmured to herself in a whisper:
“…this is getting ridiculous.”
But she knew the next night would come.
And if it was like the others…
She was lost.
…
Mercedes was walking down one of the palace’s side corridors, clutching a stack of documents she couldn’t even read. Her eyes burned. Her head throbbed. Her body reacted with indecent heat every time the memory of the previous night threatened to surface—and she swatted it away like an inconvenient mosquito.
Second sleepless night.
Second night hearing… everything.
Second night of accumulated shame.
She turned the corner without looking.
And bumped into something solid.
Something warm.
Something big.
Something that caught her before she plummeted like a block of ice.
“Whoa, hold on.”
The deep voice.
The warm hand on her waist.
The other holding her arm firmly.
Strax.
The world froze.
Mercedes froze even more.
He held her with ease, as if she were a porcelain doll about to crumble. And to make matters worse, his posture—leaning close, his hand almost encircling her entire side—was indecently stable and… comfortable.
Mercedes felt her face flush immediately.
And Strax noticed.
He raised an eyebrow.
“…Queen? You’re…red.”
Mercedes wanted to die.
“I—I—I tripped, that’s all!” She tried to straighten up, but Strax was still holding her, because she was, in fact, still falling and hadn’t realized it. “Let go—I mean, no! Don’t let go! No—LET GO! WAIT—!”
He adjusted her slowly, carefully, before taking a half-step back—but still keeping his hand on her elbow, as if she were about to fall again at any moment.
“You’re trembling,” he commented, his voice low, not authoritative—just… worried. “Did something happen?”
She blinked too quickly.
And her brain screamed: DON’T THINK ABOUT LAST NIGHT DON’T THINK ABOUT LAST NIGHT DON’T THINK—
Strax tilted his head slightly, trying to look into her eyes.
Fatal mistake.
Because the heat that rose through Mercedes’ body could have melted an entire glacier.
“You don’t look well at all,” he said. “Your dark circles are so deep you can see them from here.”
She swallowed hard.
“It’s the weather,” she replied, trying to regain her natural composure. “The humidity. The time. The— the— the sun. The distance. The wind. Normal things.”
Strax blinked.
“…is there wind inside the palace?”
Mercedes froze.
“…sometimes,” she said, without thinking.
Silence fell.
Strax raised an eyebrow, clearly finding it all too strange.
“Mercedes,” he said, now in a low, too soft voice. “Did you sleep?”
Her eyes widened as if she’d been caught red-handed stealing her own treasure.
“OF COURSE I DID!” she replied too loudly, too quickly. “I ALWAYS SLEEP. I LOVE TO SLEEP. I’M AN EXCELLENT SLEEPER. I— I SLEEP SO MUCH THAT— THAT—”
She stopped.
Because Strax was looking at her with a small, discreet, almost… amused smile.
That smile that said: I know you’re lying.
Mercedes felt the ice rise from her feet to her chest as a reflex.
Strax took another half-step closer—not invasive, but firm.
“Are you sure?” he murmured. “Because you’re… exhausted. I’ve never seen you like this.”
She shuddered.
Not because of the closeness.
But because of the gentleness.
He wasn’t mocking her.
He wasn’t teasing.
He wasn’t laughing. He was… worried.
And that, somehow, was much worse. A warm tightness spread through her chest—uncomfortable, unsettling, intimate in a wrong way.
“I… I’m fine.” She looked away, biting her lip. “It’s just a lack of… silence.”
Strax’s smile widened slightly.
“Ah.”
Mercedes froze completely.
“What… what do you mean by ‘ah’…?” She asked immediately, panicked.
Strax scratched his chin.
“Scarlet mentioned something… but I thought she was joking.”
Mercedes turned into a statue.
A blushing statue.
A statue wanting to evaporate from existence.
Strax tilted his head.
“Did you hear us last night?”
She made the most desperate sound she had ever produced in her life. Half moan, half sigh, half cry for help.
“I DIDN’T— I DIDN’T HEAR— NOT EVERYTHING— ALMOST NOTHING— OR MAYBE— A LITTLE— BUT IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE— AND— AND THE WALLS— AND— AND YOU— AND— I—”
Her hand flew to cover her mouth.
Strax’s eyes widened slightly—not shocked, but… surprised.
And then he laughed. Not a loud laugh.
A low laugh.
Sweet.
Dangerous.
Mercedes felt her knees almost give way.
“Sorry about that,” he said gently. “I… didn’t realize the acoustics were so bad here.”
He took a step back, finally releasing her arm.
And Mercedes missed the warmth immediately—and wanted to curse herself for it.
“I’ll put up a sound barrier today,” he continued seriously. “I don’t want to bother you. You already have a thousand things to deal with. You shouldn’t lose sleep over us.”
She blinked.
Her heart pounded for a reason she DIDN’T want to analyze.
“I… appreciate it,” she said, trying to regain her formal tone. “It would be… convenient.”
Strax smiled.
“Of course. And, Mercedes…”
She looked at him.
“…if you need anything… just ask.”
The sentence had no double meaning. But her brain heard as if it had.
Mercedes almost tripped again.
And walked away immediately, stiff, quick, the snow sliding behind her like a trail of pure shame.
Strax watched.
And smiled, slightly.
“She’s so cute…” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “Should I turn up the music?”
He chuckled to himself, a low laugh, satisfied with his own provocation… even though, deep down, he knew perfectly well he wouldn’t. Mercedes was already on the verge of melting—and not in the right way—and Scarlet would probably kill him if he really decided to be so cruel.
Strax raised his arms, stretching lazily in the middle of the hallway. His muscles tensed, relaxed, and he let out a sigh full of morning laziness—or rather, post-well-spent-night laziness.
After all… he and Scarlet were really enjoying this trip.
Almost like a belated honeymoon.
They rarely had time just for the two of them—not with that enormous harem, the political obligations, wars, travels, and a thousand other things that always pulled Strax everywhere. So, these days… these moments… they were reveling in it. And, honestly, he didn’t feel a shred of guilt about it.
But now, as the adrenaline from the scene with Mercedes dissipated, he let out another sigh—this time, more serious.
“Unfortunately… today I have things to do.”
The tone changed. Slow. Grave. Deep.
He turned to the wide, icy window of that side corridor.
The north wind lashed against the glass.
And Strax felt it.
Deep in his skin. In his blood. In his bones. In his draconic soul.
The air vibrated.
But not with ordinary mana.
Not with elemental magic.
Something denser. Ancient. Wilder.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Draconic energy…”
Light. Cold. Biting. Like blades of ice scratching at his will.
“…icy.”
He tilted his head, taking a deep breath. The energy was clear now that he was paying attention—a slow pulse, very slow, like the beating of a heart buried beneath tons of snow.
Strax rested a hand on the window, his reflection blending into the distant mountains.
There, among the white peaks, something breathed.
It slept.
Or waited.
“How interesting…”
His mouth curved into a smile that Mercedes and Scarlet hated—because it only appeared when Strax became genuinely excited about something too dangerous for a normal being to even approach.
He cracked his neck, as if warming up for a workout.
“A dragon’s nest.”