When we arrived at the hotel, we weren't in any rush to greet the guests waiting in the ballroom.
My cock had been throbbing the entire ride here, and before anything else, I wanted to deal with it.
I dragged my sister into the interior bathroom, locking the door behind us.
My hand slipped down to her waist, dangerously close to her ass, and in one smooth motion I lifted her skirt up.
Without hesitation, I guided my cock to her soaked entrance and shoved myself inside her tight pussy.
Her gasp echoed softly in the tiled room, her fingers clutching at the sink as I thrust into her from behind.
There was no time for gentle foreplay, no room for hesitation, it was a quickie, raw and rough, driven by the need to claim her before we stepped into the spotlight of the ballroom.
My hips smacked against her ass as I buried myself deeper, savoring the heat of her cunt as it gripped me greedily.
I came inside her with a deep groan, pressing myself all the way in as my cum spilled into her womb.
It wasn't just lust; it was possession.
A twisted sense of ownership, a mark to remind her and myself that she was mine. My sister belonged to me.
And later, when all eyes were on her in that grand ballroom, I wanted every man, every spoiled young heir, every greedy bastard to know she carried my scent inside her.
Even if they couldn't see it, I wanted her to smell of me, to radiate the proof of who she belonged to.
We fixed our clothes quickly after, smoothing out wrinkles and straightening collars as if nothing had happened.
But as we stepped out together, my hand stayed firmly on her waist, a grip that was both intimate and unmistakable.
To anyone watching, it was natural, normal even. Incest might be taboo elsewhere, but here under my hand, with the system making my reality the new normal, nobody questioned it.
To them, there was nothing strange about the way we touched, nothing wrong in how close we stood.
The hotel itself was a marvel of wealth, exactly what you'd expect from the property of a top conglomerate backed by the kind of mega corporations that owned half the world.
The ballroom stretched wide with glittering chandeliers and expensive marble floors.
A massive fountain of chocolate flowed endlessly in the corner, children dipping sweets into it and laughing as their wealthy parents turned a blind eye.
The young heirs and heiresses clustered together, trading polite, meaningless words, while older vampire businessmen and women stood in their circles, smiling their sharp, fake smiles, eyes always calculating.
This was how elites interacted, a dance of fake courtesy and hidden daggers. Interest was all that mattered, and human interaction was nothing more than a tool to be used, exploited, or discarded.
Utterly boring.
At my side, I could feel my sister's nervousness. Her fingers trembled slightly against mine, and I knew she felt it too, this place didn't belong to her.
The stares of the crowd only deepened her discomfort.
Dozens of eyes weighed us, assessing our worth, deciding whether we were worth approaching or ignoring.
But the moment I met their gazes, sharp and predatory, they backed down.
They could read it in my stare, the warning, the promise of blood if they overstepped.
They didn't dare offend me, not when my grandfather had already named me his heir, not when the fortune and legacy of our family would all be mine.
Cowards.
All of them.
I wasn't interested in their meaningless chatter anyway. I didn't come here to waste my night with parasites. I only had one goal, and I intended to end this farce quickly.
Somewhere in this nest of snakes was my fiancée and I was going to find her.
There she was, standing among so many other girls, yet shining apart from all of them.
She truly was astonishing. She wore a striking red dress, gorgeous and ornate, the kind of aristocratic outfit that looked as if a heroine from an otome game had stepped straight out of fiction and into reality.
Her platinum blonde hair framed her cold, flawless face, but her expression betrayed her mood.
She wasn't happy, not even close.
Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowed, her whole aura radiated displeasure.
The engagement meant nothing to her except suffering and it was obvious.
For a proud and arrogant woman like her, how could she possibly accept that her future husband had been decided not by herself, but by others?
Some people like to say our birth, our death, and even our spouse are all prewritten by fate, already chosen by God.
I've never believed that.
Those are just superfluous words people tell themselves to make life feel less cruel.
We are born because our father thrust himself into our mother on that date and forgot to wear a condom, not because the heavens wrote our existence.
We die because of choices, whether we neglect our health, poison ourselves with food and drink, or simply choose a path that leads us there.
It's never because fate dragged us along.
The same goes for choosing a spouse. Most people marry because of looks, wealth, personality, or convenience. They pick someone because they find them attractive enough or tolerable enough, not because some invisible god scribbled a name for them.
Almost always, it's human hands shaping the outcome, not divine ones.
I walked toward my fiancée with that thought in mind, my expression calm, my movements deliberate.
My smile was practiced, suave, disarming, but not overtly suggestive.
At my side was my sister, and her presence was no coincidence.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
After all, what kind of man would openly flirt with another woman while standing beside a girl of his own family?
When dealing with a vigilant, cautious woman like her, it was always better not to approach alone. If you came with a woman at your side, she would be less defensive, less inclined to believe you carried ulterior motives.
Her crimson eyes caught me the moment I stepped into her vision.
They studied me with sharp scrutiny, but the instant she noticed my sister beside me, I saw her vigilance soften. Her guard didn't vanish, but it loosened.
I broke the silence first.
"Fuuka-senpai," I said, my voice even, my smile steady. "It seems you are the fiancée that grandfather introduced to me. I know you probably dislike this arrangement, maybe even hate it outright. But understand, I'm not here to fight you. I'm new in this circle, and I would rather make friends than enemies. If my presence bothers you, I'll take my sister and leave."
Her eyes widened at my words, a flash of surprise breaking through her cold exterior.
Then her expression shifted, her lips curved ever so slightly, but her gaze narrowed with renewed intensity.
"I thought," she began, her tone sharp yet carrying an undercurrent of sincerity, "that gaining this new identity and power would make you arrogant. It seems I was wrong, Ichinose-san. You're far more polite than I expected, especially for someone raised in the gutter, in the bottom layers of society. Even many within our so-called high circle aren't as courteous or open-minded as you appear to be. I admit, I hate this engagement with passion. But at least… you are not what I feared."
Not what you feared?
Unfortunately, Fuuka-senpai, when it came to despicableness, I wasn't any better than your father, I was just as despicable, maybe even worse, though you would never notice it at first glance.
The truth was simple: she would never have been engaged to me without my intervention, without the system, without that reward that forced fate into my hands.
It wasn't chance, it wasn't destiny, it was me bending reality to bring her here.
And once she was mine, I had no hesitation in keeping her at my side and tearing apart those elegant red dresses she wore, stripping them off her body piece by piece, then mounting her through the night, thrust after thrust, pumping her full of my seed until dawn, until fate itself tore us apart.
Fuuka Kiryuin was stunning, dangerously gorgeous, with a body and aura that screamed temptation.
She was absolutely my type, the kind of woman men would kill to touch even once.
Of course, my number one had always been Arisu, and right behind her came my sister, but Fuuka was still high on my list.
If she ever found out the truth, one could only wonder how she would react.
I leaned back and replied to her with an easy tone, concealing the thoughts that twisted in my head. "No pressure, senpai. Take your time. You know we'll meet again at the academy soon enough. If, by that day, you don't like me enough, then fine, we can just pretend to be husband and wife. I won't force obligations on you. I won't restrict your freedom. You can do whatever you want."
My words were soaked in sincerity, or at least they sounded that way.
But sincerity was a mask, and behind it was nothing but a lie.
I would never allow a woman like her to slip through my grasp.
I was a hedonist at my core, I loved women, especially women like her, and I wanted nothing more than to breed her thoroughly, make her moan my name endlessly while I filled her again and again.
Unaware of the filth inside my head, Fuuka Kiryuin gave a soft, careful answer. "Thanks, I guess. If you really mean what you say, then I won't restrict you either, Ichinose-san."
The air between us shifted, the atmosphere growing warmer, more intimate.
I raised my glass toward her in a deliberate toast. "Then, may luck bless us, Fuuka-senpai."
"Yes. May luck bless us." She smirked, her lips curving with just the right amount of charm as our glasses clinked, the red wine shimmering before we both drank deeply.
The conversation had taken a promising turn, leaning toward a good direction, the mood surprisingly pleasant as we basked in each other's presence.
Yet not far away, a petite figure with lilac hair glared at us.
The loli's sharp little teeth ground together in jealousy, her eyes burning with frustration at the closeness forming between Fuuka and me.
...
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