Venelana's POV
Another quiet afternoon wrapped itself around the Gremory estate. The halls were still, staff scattered across their daily routines, and her daughter was off training as usual.
Venelana Gremory stood by the tall window of the eastern wing, cradling a crystal glass filled with pale wine. The air was calm, pleasant — but her thoughts were not.
She was distracted again.
He was nearby. Folding linen napkins in silence. Meticulous. Polite. Always so eager to please. He hadn't said much since arriving, but she could feel it — that familiar warmth at the edge of her awareness.
Gasper.
It was hard to explain how the shift had started. At first, it was simple curiosity. A boy who wanted to learn how to help. A surprising request to be trained in etiquette — to serve like a proper butler, he had said.
She had agreed, not expecting it to become a habit. Yet here they were, months later. Meeting more often. Longer sessions. Private lessons.
At first, she told herself it was harmless. Just a sweet boy eager to learn.
But the way he listened to her…
The way he stood still when she approached…
The way his breath caught when she leaned in too close…
It stirred something inside her that she hadn't felt in years.
You're being ridiculous, she often told herself. You're a noble. His mentor.
But then he'd glance at her from under those soft bangs, or he'd flinch at her touch — and a strange, tantalizing thrill would ripple through her.
It was happening again today.
"Come here, Gasper," she said casually, not turning from the window.
He came to her side, quiet as ever.
"I finished folding the linens, Venelana-sama."
"Good." She extended her hand without looking. "Let me see."
As he handed her the cloth, her fingers brushed his — a simple touch, fleeting — but she felt it. That jolt. The tension.
He didn't pull away.
And neither did she.
She stepped in closer, reaching to adjust his collar. It didn't need fixing, but the excuse served. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, then smoothed down his shoulder — slowly, deliberately.
Then her palm rested lightly against his chest.
"You're improving," she said, softer now. "Learning quickly."
He said nothing at first, but she could feel his breath stutter.
Good.
He's so easy to read, she thought, smiling faintly. So responsive. It's… delightful.
When he shifted slightly, her hand lowered — too low — grazing the curve of his inner thigh before she caught herself.
She froze. He did too.
Too far.
But again… he didn't pull away.
The moment lingered.
Her fingers twitched, then withdrew.
Venelana moved behind him, recovering gracefully, as if nothing had happened.
"Do be careful," she murmured, leaning toward his ear, "or someone might get the wrong idea."
Then she added, teasingly, "You make it very hard to behave."
She didn't expect his silence.
Didn't expect that faint look of… expectation?
Was he waiting for more?
Her curiosity spiked. Her instincts stirred.
She leaned closer — lips nearly brushing the shell of his ear — and gently nibbled it.
He inhaled sharply.
Her smile widened.
So sensitive.
He turned slightly, instinctively. Their faces were suddenly close — too close. His lips parted slightly, his eyes unguarded. There was a tremble in him. But he didn't move away.
She could feel the tension building between them.
So thick.
So tempting.
Just one more inch.
Her gaze flicked to his lips.
I could kiss him right now.
But she didn't.
Barely.
She held herself back with a self-control she hadn't had to exercise in years. Instead, she smiled — warm, gracious, teasing.
"You've done well today," she said, stepping away.
He blinked, as if waking from a trance.
"You're dismissed."
She walked to the door without looking back, heart pounding harder than she cared to admit.
What am I doing?
This isn't me. This is dangerous.
But her fingers still tingled where they'd touched him.
Her lips still remembered the heat of his skin.
And as she stepped into the hallway, she whispered to herself:
He's going to be the ruin of me…
Gasper's POV
She was slipping.
That had been the plan.
Every chore, every lesson — a calculated setup. He played the part of the diligent student, the quiet servant. A harmless boy with big eyes and clumsy hands.
And it had worked.
Almost.
Gasper stood in the middle of the quiet room, heart still thudding in his chest, palms warm where she had touched him.
He swallowed hard and sat down on the edge of the couch, forcing himself to breathe.
He had laid the trap carefully.
His Cougar Trap ability was subtle, not instant. It required proximity, trust, and a slow build of affection and desire. And it had worked wonders with Grayfia. With Venelana, he'd expected the same.
But Venelana was different.
She was experienced. Elegant. Dangerous in a way that made his schemes feel like child's play.
And when she touched him — when she whispered into his ear, or let her lips graze his skin — he lost control.
Not of the situation.
Of himself.
I should've pulled away when she leaned in. I should've reset the flow.
But he hadn't. Because somewhere deep inside, past the layers of strategy and reincarnator's detachment…
He wanted it.
He wanted her.
Her voice. Her scent. The heat of her body so close to his.
Her teasing wasn't just working on him — it was breaking through him.
I can't let her win.
He clenched his fists, trying to refocus, but the heat between his legs betrayed him. The tension. The reaction he couldn't suppress.
His breath caught.
He closed his eyes, biting his lip, trying to stop it.
But it was too late.
The moment replayed again — her fingers grazing too low, her breath on his ear, her lips so close…
And then—
A shudder.
A gasp.
Release.
Silence followed.
He sat there, stunned, cheeks flushed, unable to move for several seconds.
Damn it…
He looked down, embarrassed. Ashamed.
And yet… a small, dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Next time, he told himself.
Next time, I'll be ready.
End of Chapter 5