Boiling Conquest
The knight mother and daughter, their reason and rebellious spirit completely castrated, knelt at my feet and begged only for pleasure. The moment I placed the blindfolds I had prepared over their eyes, sticky praise and thunderous applause erupted from every corner of the banquet hall.
I slowly looked down at my fully completed trophies amid that cheering. ‘...Damn. I went through the trouble of recalling the original novel’s details and preparing everything.’
I had received advance notice from the President that the two dolls would be delivered wrapped in dresses of mismatched colors that reversed the hue of each other’s eyes. In the case of Karin, who had fallen into a doll at the peak of climax in accordance with the signal I sent, she wore a blue dress the same color as her mother Camilla’s eyes. Since the original described her wearing a “dress as deep blue as the abyss,” I had also fitted her with a dark blue blindfold to perfectly match the set.
But the problem was Camilla, who had already become a perfect doll and was panting with the desire to kiss the top of my foot. In the original, Camilla was described as wearing a “red-tinted dress” that openly revealed her blind love for her master and a girlish affection like that of a daughter. Trusting that sentence, I had prepared a pink blindfold without suspicion…
‘Who would have thought she would show up in a dress this thick and seductive, like fresh blood.’
I slipped the pink blindfold—which clashed strangely with the blood-red dress—over Camilla’s eyes and let out a small, wry smile. It was a trivial mistake born from relying too much on the original text. Yet even that dissonance between packaging and contents stirred an unbearable excitement within me.
The Empire’s greatest sword, now wearing a pink blindfold and squirming her lower abdomen as she searched for my scent. She was no longer a heroine trapped within the letters of a novel. Thanks to my intervention, she had deviated from the original’s orbit and become my complete possession—something I could handle and trample however I pleased.
The instant I finished the most splendid “packaging of new merchandise” with my own hands in front of countless spectators, a pitch-black conquest lust boiled up from the depths of my stomach as I gazed at their obscene, altered forms.
“Congratulations, Sir Edric! To commission both the Empire’s greatest sword and the next generation’s sword as ‘merchandise’ at once—your eye is truly remarkable!”
At that moment, the elderly marquis, who wore his young wife with unfocused eyes like an accessory, approached and slyly offered me a wine glass.
“Hahaha, so you’ve finally learned the ‘real rules’ of our world.”
Among all the nobles in the banquet hall, the marquis of the most noble bloodline deliberately raised his voice so everyone could hear.
“To a noble, ‘bloodline’ is a value more precious than anything else. But ironically, the greatest headache for us nobles has always been wondering whether the child born from the wife who will inherit that bloodline is truly our own flesh and blood.”
The elderly marquis kneaded the young marchioness’s breast roughly while cackling.
“Wives forced into marriage for the sake of family interests often can’t endure the loneliness and end up pregnant by servants or old lovers. That horrific ‘cuckoo chick’ was a curse that weighed on the necks of us fine noble males our entire lives.”
“Exactly, Marquis. Hahaha. Aren’t these ‘perfect dolls’ created by the President the very thing that solved our difficult problem in one stroke!”
Another noble beside him chimed in enthusiastically.
“The finest luxury items that completely castrate even a woman’s fickle heart and leave only absolute obedience toward her master! That President is truly nothing short of a savior for us nobles.”
When the nobles’ adoring gazes turned toward the original novel’s protagonist, who had been quietly savoring his drink in one corner of the hall, he offered a relaxed smile and gave a light bow.
“Thanks to all of you gathering like this to celebrate whenever you receive new merchandise, it has become the perfect promotional venue for me to show off my excellent works.”
“Hahaha, what a funny thing to say! In the first place, the start of this appraisal meeting was a warning not to touch the completed goods because they were mine. Kk kk. Your business skills are so good that it has now become our own social culture where we proudly display our fine luxury items to one another! Gahaha!”
Listening to the old nobles chatter excitedly among themselves while praising the President—the original protagonist—I swallowed a bitter laugh inside.
It was a sight that should have made any normal person recoil in horror. Yet here they were, acting exactly as they did in the original—checking the muscles of a newly purchased fine horse or proudly showing off a rare new model car.
“By the way, the more I look at them, the more fascinating they are. Don’t those two products look strangely similar to the Countess Carna?”
“Of course they do. Captain Camilla is the Countess’s cousin, and that young Lady Karin is this friend’s sixth cousin or thereabouts.”
“Aha! So if we include the Countess herself, it means three women of the same bloodline have all become the splendid possessions of the Blake family! Kyaahaha!”
At the vulgar jokes of the nobles whose tongues had loosened from drink, my hand holding the champagne glass paused for a moment before I let out a small chuckle.
Captain Camilla and her mother Carna, who had been perfect virgins untouched by anyone until just a week ago, were clearly of the same bloodline as this scoundrel’s body. But as for their daughter Karin… ‘Well. If I consider the setting that was lightly sprinkled as bait, she’s not completely unrelated.’
Whatever the case, the sense of immorality from making the women of a family close to this body my own was indescribable.
The elderly marquis—the greatest elder of the banquet hall—extended his hand to me.
“Hahaha. You’ve caught both the joy of obtaining a wife and the responsibility of inheriting the family. Now, let us share the burden of this country’s future together.”
Even as the marquis spoke gently, his hand never left the young marchioness’s breast. Starting with him, all the nobles who approached following the Count began to enjoy this bizarre banquet—openly molesting their own dolls while discussing the Empire’s important affairs.
‘Fucking bastards. If you have time to pretend to worry about the country and act all refined, hurry up and give me time to properly enjoy these products.’
I swallowed another bitter laugh inside and nodded leisurely at their words. Honestly, I wanted to drag the knight mother and daughter to a secluded place right away and toy with them just like them. But it seemed nobles had their own rules and procedures, so I had no choice but to be dragged around by the Count and spend a tedious time introducing my dolls.
Still, the act of following the Count and introducing the knight mother and daughter to the guests wasn’t entirely boring.
“Hahaha! Count Blake, have you finally stopped hiding your beautiful wife away in the mansion?”
“Now that I think about it, when you were trying to obtain a wife. Since Captain Camilla was still a minor and couldn’t be turned into a doll, you ended up taking Countess Carna as a substitute, didn’t you?”
One noble, flushed with drink, cackled as he threw out the joke. At those words, the man who was my father raised his voice in anger.
“Hahaha! What nonsense are you spouting, man? From the beginning, I only wanted Carna, who had humiliated me at the Academy! Do not carelessly slander me in front of my perfect wife.”
“Come on, it seems this friend has already forgotten what he said while drunk twenty years ago.”
Another noble beside him added with a sneer.
‘...Not boring at all.’
Even though I had read the original countless times over twenty years, hearing these “stories outside the story” that weren’t depicted in the novel was unexpectedly interesting. The pathetic narratives of sub-nobles who weren’t even main characters and barely qualified as extras.
“At the time, I only wanted to relieve my sexual desires with Camilla, who resembled her, in place of the pregnant Carna. I simply wanted a substitute to fill the empty spot.”
My father—Count Blake—continued with a voice mixed with excuses. To anyone watching, he looked like a husband caught cheating, yet there was not a shred of guilt in his eyes. Even my mother Carna, who was pushing his wheelchair, merely wore an ecstatic smile with unfocused eyes as she listened to her husband’s vile remarks. Just as expected of a perfectly tuned doll.
“Moreover, when that fresh Camilla in her late teens ended up carrying the seed of some unknown man, didn’t all of us comrades—including myself—lose interest in her?”
“Indeed, we dropped her like a hot potato, hahaha.”
“Kyahaha!”
Listening to the nobles cackle among themselves, I once again realized the bizarre and consumptive values they held toward their ‘dolls.’
‘Wipe the greed from your eyes before you say such things. Kk kk. They’re positively reeking of lust.’
The nobles’ possessiveness and desire for display toward the dolls they called wives. While their mouths spoke of “substitutes” and “losing interest” to disparage Camilla, their eyes told a different story. The gazes that swept over the voluptuous breasts and slender waist of Camilla in my arms were blatantly mixed with sticky jealousy and desire for a top-grade product that their own dolls could not satisfy.
Yet the arrows of that blatant jealousy were not aimed at me, but at my father, who sat arrogantly in his wheelchair holding a wine glass. And my father enjoyed their gazes while staring at Camilla—my possession—with a sticky look.
‘How annoying. Are they treating my things as if they were the family’s shared assets?’
I tightened my grip around the waists of the knight mother and daughter in my arms and looked coldly at my father and the nobles in the hall. The reason the nobles sent jealous glances toward my father instead of me was clear. To them, these knight mother and daughter were not “personal trophies” obtained by the scoundrel son Edric, but “symbols of the family” created by the Blake family’s enormous financial power and deep collusion with the President.
‘Those bastards believe that old raccoon used his idiot son as a proxy to purchase these two under his name, not me.’
In the end, their jealousy was directed at the “authority and wealth of the family head” held by the Count, and I was merely being treated as a lucky heir who benefited from it. Well, in their world, it was only natural that my father—a VVIP customer who had poured enormous sums of money for decades—would take precedence over me, a new client who had just started trading.
‘What a shame. If that terrorist attack had left the man dead or in a vegetative state, the ownership of Camilla and Karin would have been fully recognized as mine.’
In the original, the knight-aspirant terrorist had killed the scoundrel extra I possessed. Because of that incident, the man should have become a complete vegetable and rotted away in bed. But my father had clung to life under the pretext of a “miracle bestowed by the Saintess” and was now receiving even more attention than me—the one who should have been the protagonist of the party.
‘It’s annoying, but when I think about the President’s—the original protagonist’s—business acumen, it makes sense.’
The President was using the heroine of the original’s first volume, who wore the label of “Saintess,” to perfectly manage the condition of these old and sick clients. In other words, he provided a perfect “health after-sales service (A/S)” so they could violate and enjoy the “merchandise” he supplied at any time.
‘Therefore, as long as Mother Carna remains registered as that old man’s exclusive product… unless the President himself completely disposes of Father—one of his best customers—he will keep reviving him like this.’
According to the original development, that father character would be dealt with by the President himself… but I soon shook my head. In the first place, the reason that man met a miserable end at the President’s hands in the original was because he had dared to try to take the knight mother and daughter—who had become the President’s own possessions—into his own hands. And it was merely the pathetic exit of an extra who disappeared from the story in a single short sentence.
‘But now that they have become my possessions through my intervention, the President will have no reason to kill Father. In the end, if I want to completely sever that tenacious lifeline and swallow the entire Blake family, I must set the board with my own hands.’
As my thoughts reached that point, the elderly marquis’s hoarse voice reached my ears again.
“By the way, have you decided which of these two products will be your ‘official wife’?”
“Well. Considering public perception, Karin—who is the same age—would be better… but I also find it hard to give up the immoral thrill of taking the Captain Camilla I’ve admired for so long as my legal wife and keeping her daughter as a concubine.”
At my sly answer, the marquis slapped his knee and laughed heartily.
“Immoral thrill! Kyaha, it certainly is hard to easily abandon such an exciting feeling. But as a senior in life who has owned an old doll before you, let me give you some advice—wives should always be young!”
“You mean younger?”
“Of course! Before I obtained this doll as my second wife, I commissioned my first doll to be a respected older sister twelve years my senior. But what do you know, the human body has its limits, so she aged and broke down before me. Do you know how empty and sad I felt back then?”
Even as he spoke of sadness, the elderly marquis wore a greedy smile and persistently kneaded the buttocks of the young marchioness, who looked young enough to be his granddaughter. Leaving behind that disgusting sight and laughter, I pulled Camilla and Karin—who showed affection for their master beyond their blindfolds and burned with murderous intent, respectively—tighter into my embrace.
In truth, even now, I had fallen into rather deep contemplation about how I would handle these two women once I had them completely in my grasp. Would I erase their personalities entirely and turn them into real dolls? Or would I go for a tragic development where their bodies had surrendered but their minds resisted until they broke? Or perhaps…
As I weighed numerous “routes,” beyond the brilliant chandelier light, I saw a man at the center of the banquet hall receiving all the gazes in the room. The protagonist of this world—the President. And beside him, the countless dolls approaching with shy yet graceful smiles, the way he gave relaxed laughs to the customers and inspected the condition of the products he had created, and the longing of the dolls who wished to be personally tuned by their creator after so long—all of it entered my eyes beyond the text.
In that instant, the dark and bizarre conquest lust that had been sleeping in my heart began to boil uncontrollably.
‘I want to do it like him, too.’
I gripped the shoulders of Camilla and Karin in my arms tightly and smiled with a chilling heat. At this very moment, I had completely decided on the direction of training I would take.
I brought my lips close to the ear of the doll who would become the core of the upcoming training among those who had become mine and whispered sweetly.
“I look forward to working with you from now on, my wife.”
The moment my words ended, blind obsession and ecstasy settled in Camilla’s blue eyes faintly visible through the blindfold, while hellfire blazed fiercely in Karin’s red ones.