Michael's assumption that Rose would leap at his offer proved to be a critical miscalculation.
The moment he mentioned "unconventional methods," the hope in her eyes had been snuffed out by pure, unadulterated terror. She had mumbled a quick, "No, thank you!" before practically sprinting down the hallway, her green hair flying behind her like a retreating flag.
Idiot, he chastised himself, watching her flee. You were too eager. You moved like a predator, not a benefactor. She's a scared little rabbit; you have to coax her out, not pounce.
He had learned a valuable lesson. Patience. The bait had to be perfect, and the presentation flawless. He couldn't just offer power; he had to make her beg for it.
Later that night, in his apartment, he channeled his frustration into a different kind of conquest. Cindy was there, as she often was now, her will a fractured thing held together by the system's magic.
The session was intense. With every touch, every command, the Lust System chimed relentlessly.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
[ Lust Points +35! ]
[ Lust Points +40! ]
[ Action: 'Dominant Claim' - Status: Overwhelming! ]
The points flooded in, a thrilling compensation for his earlier failure. It was a potent high, this combination of carnal pleasure and quantifiable power.
When it was over, they lay in the silence of his dim room. A new, deeply twisted normal had settled between them. As her breathing slowed, Cindy's body, acting on an ingrained need for post-intimacy comfort, instinctively shifted closer and curled against his side.
Michael, almost on autopilot, found his arm wrapping around her, his fingers absently tracing the lines of the succubus tattoo on her stomach. It was a grotesque parody of affection, a habit formed from repetition, not emotion.
This was the moment. This was when she was most pliable, her mental defenses at their lowest, her body still humming with the aftereffects of his control and the system's compulsion.
"We need to talk about Rose Ivy," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Cindy stiffened immediately. "Rose? The F-class president? Why?" Her voice was a sleepy mumble, but laced with immediate suspicion.
"I made an approach today. I offered to help her... strengthen her trait. She ran away."
A small, almost imperceptible sound—something between a snort and a sigh—escaped Cindy's lips. "Of course she did. You probably scared her."
"Which is why you're going to talk to her," Michael stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Cindy tried to pull away, but his arm held her fast. "No. Michael, no. I'm not doing that. I'm not going to be your... your recruiter." The protest was there, but the fire behind it was dampened, like a match trying to light in the rain.
"You will," he said, his fingers pressing slightly into the tattoo, a silent reminder of her bonds. "You have her number from that class representative group chat. You're going to message her. You're going to tell her that you've heard I have... unique talents. That I helped you with a personal problem. That I'm trustworthy."
"This is insane! Why would she believe me? I'm S-class! She'll think it's a trap!"
"Then convince her it's not," Michael countered, his voice dropping to a manipulative whisper. "Use that silver tongue of yours. You were always so good at that. Tell her you were once skeptical too, but I proved you wrong. Tell her I can give her the strength she's always wanted. Ray her. Make her curious."
He felt her heart hammering against his side. This was a direct order that struck at the very core of her remaining pride. To be used as a tool to ensnare another girl, especially one she saw as beneath her, was a new level of humiliation.
"Why her?" Cindy whispered, her voice thick with a emotion he couldn't quite place. "She's just a nobody with a flower trait. What do you even want with her?"
Michael paused, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked down at the top of her head. He heard it—a faint, but unmistakable, sharpness in her tone.
"Are you... jealous, Cindy?"
She jerked as if struck. "Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped, her voice suddenly sharp and clear. "I'm not jealous! I just think it's a stupid plan! She's pathetic! You're wasting your time!"
Her vehement denial, the flash of anger—it was more genuine than anything she'd shown him in days. The system's "Loyal Flesh" trait prevented infidelity, but it said nothing about jealousy. It was a fascinating, unintended side effect.
He chuckled, a low, dark sound that vibrated through her. "Good. Then you shouldn't have any problem helping me. Consider it an order, Cindy. First thing in the morning."
He felt her deflate against him, the fight draining out of her, replaced by the cold, familiar weight of obedience. She didn't agree verbally, but her silence was confirmation enough.
As Michael stared at the ceiling, he refined his plan. Cindy's testimony would be the perfect, gentle lure. A recommendation from an S-class student, even a coerced one, would carry immense weight. Rose's fear would be mixed with tantalizing curiosity.
The rabbit was wary, but he was preparing a much sweeter carrot. And this time, he would wait for her to take the first bite.
The next morning, Michael was strategizing how to subtly reinforce Cindy's "testimonial" when a timid shadow fell over his desk. He looked up, and his carefully maintained mask of indifference nearly slipped.
It was Rose Ivy. Her hands were clasped so tightly in front of her her knuckles were white. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and her large, green eyes were wide with a frantic, almost desperate hope.
"Michael," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "C-can I talk to you? Please?"
This was… unexpected. He had planned for a gradual thaw, perhaps a curious glance later in the week. Not this immediate, full-blown surrender first thing in the morning. Cindy, you vicious little manipulator, he thought with a surge of dark admiration. What exactly did you say to her? I'll have to reward you properly later.
He kept his expression neutral, slightly curious. "Of course, Rose. What is it?"
He expected a hesitant question, a probe for more information. What he got was a full capitulation.
"I'm so sorry!" she blurted out, her words tumbling over one another. "I'm sorry for running away yesterday! I was scared and I didn't understand! But after talking to C-Cindy…" She said the name with a sense of awe, as if receiving a message from a goddess. "She told me everything! How you've helped her, how you understand traits on a deeper level than anyone… she said you could change someone's destiny!"
Michael remained silent, letting her desperation fill the space between them. His mind was racing. She told her 'everything'? Clever girl. Vague enough to be believable, specific enough to be tantalizing. He made a mental note to increase Cindy's… privileges.
Seeing his silence, Rose misinterpreted it for anger or reluctance. Her face fell, and she looked on the verge of tears. "Please… I know I don't deserve it after how I acted… but is the offer still there? Can you… can you really help me?" She looked at him not like he was a creepy classmate, but like he was a prophet. "I'll do anything. Just tell me what to do. Please, guide me."
Inside, Michael was triumphant. The rabbit wasn't just nibbling the carrot; it was begging to be led to the feast. The effectiveness of using a former tormentor to vouch for him was beyond anything he had imagined. The social dynamics were a weapon more precise than any trait.
He allowed a small, gentle smile to touch his lips, the picture of a benevolent mentor. "You just took me by surprise, that's all," he said, his voice soft. "It's a big decision, and fear is a natural reaction. But I'm glad you're being brave now."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "The offer is absolutely still there, Rose. We can start today, after school. Meet me at the old storage shed behind the gym. No one ever goes there. We'll need… privacy for the first session."
Rose's head bobbed up and down in frantic, grateful nods. "Yes! Of course! Thank you, Michael! Thank you so much!" The relief on her face was so profound it was almost pathetic.
As she hurried away, practically floating with renewed hope, Michael's smile widened into something entirely different. It was cold, calculating, and utterly victorious.
Anything, she had said. Guide me.
He intended to do exactly that. Right into the first empty slot of his Slave Harem. The hunt was over before it had even truly begun.
Now, the real work of taming could begin.