Chapter 78
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: The Scoundrel, the Villainess Lady, and the Stepmother (1)
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A high-class lounge near the carriage station.
A place built for esteemed nobles and wealthy folk so they wouldn't have to wait out in the summer blaze or the biting winter cold—but of course, it was on the brink of bankruptcy.
Those who could afford the outrageous prices usually had private carriages and no need to wait, while public carriage riders had no money to spare for a spot like this.
So why was I here? Because Lucia and Vivian wanted to squeeze in every last moment together, we had the carriage summoned right to this place.
...Of course, with me teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, Lucia footed the bill.
I slumped against the sofa, head bowed, and let out a deep sigh.
'Burned it white...'
I won't pop stamina pills so recklessly again.
It was a lesson etched into my very body—literally.
For the first time since acquiring Prince on the Bed, I'd hit the absolute limit of my virility.
3P and 4P don't just tack on one extra person's worth of stamina; they demand at least squared endurance.
With Lucia and Vivian, I could sync their peaks to my rhythm, keeping control.
But add a third, and it was chaos: Lucia passes out, Vivian recovers and lunges; down Vivian, and Tristia bounces back ready for more.
Semen milked out, wrung dry, squeezed again, depleted.
Normally, you'd expect no more erections at that point—but Tristia's potions forcibly converted stamina into raw lust.
...And this was the fallout.
I'd seen stamina capped from poisons or wounds, but sex pushing it here? Never crossed my mind.
'...No 4P until Stamina cracks the 30s...'
If Tristia hadn't slipped out mid-session to brew more potions, I'd have been done for.
"...Hic... sob.... Hic...."
As her carriage's departure loomed, Vivian burst into floods of tears, her voice quivering.
"...Hic... Eu.. Eugene-nim... C-can't you... take me with you...? I,.. I'll eat so little. I-I can't cook well, but I'll work hard anyway... Hic... Please..."
Vivian cried easily on a normal day, but this raw, heartbreaking sobfest was a first—I was at a loss.
".. Sob... Hic.... I... I have no confidence... I'm scared... Sister's gonna... ki.. kill me...."
"...Vivian, didn't I tell you? Bianca's no threat. I wrung a vow from her—no harm comes to you."
".. Sob.. St.. still..."
Vivian clutched my hand through her tears, but her ride was pulling away any second.
Chapter 3 was volatile enough without her missing it and sparking some butterfly-effect nightmare.
I drew her into my arms, stroked her hair, and whispered.
"...When things get rough, pretend the ring is me. It'll shield you."
"Hic... Sob.. Eu... gene-nim..."
She clung until the absolute last tick, then trudged out like marching to war.
'...Phew.'
From the window, I watched her climb aboard and exhaled relief in my chest.
...At least she'd head home without a meltdown.
Mental fragility had me braced for a bolt, but looks like the ring clinched it.
Gazing out, next rolled in the Ursula house carriage—blue banner emblazoned with a clock.
"...Carriage is here."
I'd braced for Lucia waterworks too—not quite Vivian-level, but still. Surprisingly composed.
"Then, I'll be going. Master. Please take care of yourself."
But was that subtle lag in her parting bow just my imagination?
"...."
"...Master?"
I snagged her wrist without a word and claimed her lips.
"Haa.. Mas.. ter.. mmph...."
Tongues tangled, her sweet saliva melting into me.
Her slender arms wrapped my back, desperate for every inch closer.
I yanked her flush, imprinting her heat, her softness, her scent into my skull.
"...Lucia... You're mine. Don't forget it."
"Haa.. Haa... Yes.. Anywhere... Anytime... I'm yours, Master.."
Her fevered breaths tempted another ravaging kiss, but I held firm.
"...Haa... Stay longer, and I won't leave. Farewell, Master."
Halfway to the door, she whirled back on impulse, dashed in for a feather-light peck on my cheek, and murmured,
"...I love you. Master."
Then a bashful grin before bolting out for good.
I caressed the mark on my cheek and stared at the ceiling.
'...Liana's probably scheming up a storm right now.'
First time the princess warmed to me at this juncture—means palace visit's uncharted too.
Unlike past runs, zero clue on outcomes.
Could be a disaster as feared... or less so.
Either way, no sunshine endings on deck.
She's stewing ways to royally screw me over.
Sure, dodging it all by ghosting our deal was an option.
...In theory only.
'I'd sooner die.'
Break a pact with her?
Unimaginable blowback.
'Haa...'
As I sighed gustily, the Calliope carriage pulled up—black shield crest gleaming.
'...Here's hoping I scrape by again...'
I muttered a prayer to whatever gods might listen and shoved the door open.
Against all odds, the trek to Calliope was butter-smooth.
Not a single bandit ambush, weather tame for northern haul.
Even in the spacious luxury cabin, no motion sickness.
'...Bored stiff.'
Telekinesis drills killed time at first, but even that's stale.
Still, daily main-story recaps? Non-negotiable.
Like every arc of Academy's Tamer, Chapter 3 overflowed with deathtraps—a tiny oversight could snowball fatal.
'Chapter 3's biggest fork...'
Backing the next Calliope heir.
Heirs: three sons, one daughter.
First up, Erden Calliope.
Legit eldest—prime looks, sword prodigy, diligent, folk-hearted.
Just too stoic, but zero personal flaws otherwise.
'Politics? Zero interest... That's the snag.'
Had Erden pushed, second son Kail Calliope wouldn't sniff the throne.
Tragic: Erden's so aloof he spurns even maternal backing.
Kail? Straight out of a trash-possessed protag mold.
Rotten personality, bottom-rung talent.
Calliope name and still flunks Carnea entrance? Yikes.
Should've bombed out of contention...
Enter twin sis Leyka Calliope and mom Garcia Misha.
Garcia especially: ambition monster with zero chill.
Misha stock snared Calliope matriarch? No shock there.
Misha's so washed—even fading Beatrice ranks higher. Get it?
How'd a Misha climb aboard?...
Raped current head, Edad Calliope.
Grieving Erden's mom—his first wife—Edad passed out drunk; she snuck the seed.
Official line: love defied class. Me? Knowing the dirt, it's laughable.
Leyka, the lone daughter heir?...
Villainess lady incarnate.
Pre-regression trash-edition.
Edge over Kail: brains spin fast.
'Haa...'
Scoundrel son, villainess miss, stepmom schemer...
Classic novel baddies roundup.
'...Not that I'm lily-pure.'
Third son Eugene Calliope: family's wildcard oddball in the hot seat.
Always dicey, but Chapter 3? One pick flips house fate and scenario endgame.
Caution mandatory.
Neigh—!
Horse whinnied; carriage halted.
Long haul over: Calliope main keep.
I sat tight; door swung. Black-suited mid-ager, white hair slicked back, bowed smooth.
"...Alfredo."
"Long time no see, Young Master. Keeping well?"
His kindly smile beamed beside a peeking tanned maid.
"Emma too—ages."
"Young Master! Missed you tons!"
Her beaming grin tugged my own smirk.
"Apologies. Should've fetched you myself..."
"No sweat. Head butler's swamped by default. You held the fort—let me grind studies worry-free."
"...Heh, high praise from you, Young Master."
"Young Master! I slayed the cleaning!"
"Good girl, Emma. Tough gig—you nailed it."
I ruffled her hair with a soft smile.
To insiders, this warmth? Jaw-dropper.
But obvious call.
...They're my Chapter 3 survival ace.