He should never have read that journal. He should have burned it immediately without even looking at it.

On the very day he read those cursed sentences written in the late Duke’s handwriting, Jürgen grabbed and stroked his c*ck for the second time.

Twisted desires and s*xual acts, followed by vivid pleasure. The journal contained nothing but records of such things.

The late Duke knew that his son had chosen abstinence in an attempt not to resemble him. Through the journal, he told Jürgen that it would all be futile.

At least from the moment Jürgen opened the journal, the tone was one of absolute certainty that it would be so.

‘Have you ever traced a woman’s skin with your fingertips?’

‘You shouldn’t just think about laying her on the bed right away. You need to take time to heat her up until she’s in a state sufficient to satisfy you.’

‘It might be good to fully enjoy the sensation of soft skin, but you won’t be able to be satisfied with just that. You’ll come to desperately desire more intense and primal pleasure.’

‘You will inevitably be captivated by strange desires that cannot be fulfilled merely by caressing a woman’s body and having intercourse.’

Everything his father had seen and felt invaded Jürgen’s mind in an instant. In his imagination, he saw a woman lying n*ked at his feet, face down with her b*ttocks raised.

In his hand was a leather belt similar to the one his father had used, or perhaps it was clearly his father’s. When he rubbed the woman’s private parts, which had been secretly hidden between her legs, with the rounded part of the folded belt, her b*ttocks quivered and a yearning sigh burst forth.

‘Take enough time until wet sounds are heard.’

‘If glistening fluid appears on your tool, it means the woman is aroused.’

The woman wanted more stimulation. She wasn’t satisfied with just being rubbed with the leather belt. He slightly changed the angle and strongly stimulated the spot where the woman felt pleasure with the edge of the belt.

‘If you rub her private parts with a tool, the woman will guide you on her own. She’ll rub her b*ttocks against the parts that feel good when touched.’

When he rubbed quickly with the raised edge, the woman let out a high-pitched cry of pleasure and squirmed. Even at the risk of her posture collapsing, she thrust her b*ttocks further back and gasped, seeking greater stimulation.

‘Don’t let the woman climax before you.’

‘You must not allow her to satisfy her desires before her master.’

When he stopped just before her climax, the woman seemed puzzled, and soon began demanding that he continue the stimulation. The area between her legs was a mess of glistening fluids.

‘Make it clear to the woman lying beneath you. That she is merely a tool to please you. That she too can never be freed unless you are satisfied first.’

When he struck the woman’s tender skin with the belt, she let out a shrill scream. With each strike of the hard belt against her b*ttocks, her once-white skin began to turn into an appetizing color.

By the time her b*ttocks, which had been soft and plump, turned red, the woman was wailing. He paid no attention and continued to strike her swollen b*ttocks. Her skin, red like a well-ripened fruit, looked like evidence of excitement.

As time passed, he could no longer distinguish between the woman’s screams and cries of pleasure.

Her two legs trembling from the unbearable pain, yet her private parts contracting with each strike…… But what excited him even more was…

‘You will surely come to like that sight.’

The moment bright red drops of blood formed on the swollen mound. Jürgen couldn’t bear it anymore and closed the journal. His painfully hard er*ction was trapped between his pants, causing discomfort.

Seized by a thirst even harder to endure than on the day he dreamed of Diez, Jürgen hurriedly locked the door of the Blue Room. He fled to the adjoining bathroom and with urgent movements, unbuckled his belt and took out his firmly er*ect c*ck.

There was no room for other thoughts. Jürgen tightly closed his eyes, firmly covered his mouth with one hand, and grabbed his c*ck, stroking it forcefully.

In the end, his father was right. The moment he imagined drops of blood forming on soft skin, he could no longer hold back. He wanted to leave more marks on the woman’s skin. The more brands he engraved, the greater his satisfaction would be.

He wanted to taste the wounded area directly with his tongue. He wanted to grab the scars he had left with both hands and thrust his c*ck into her private parts. Jürgen imagined the screams the woman would make. Her skin glistening with sweat, her face flushed and stained with tears……

Ah. The woman who appeared in Jürgen’s imagination was not just a faceless, imaginary woman.

When Jürgen faced the woman with brilliant blonde hair, he was overwhelmed with self-loathing, yet he felt the approach of the peak of pleasure.

Soon the feeling of ej*culation came over him.

After a long yet brief afterglow, what enveloped him was a sense of self-reproach, as if being sucked into an abyss.

It was impossible to return to the time before tasting intense pleasure. As his father had said, all the efforts he had made for over ten years seemed to have been in vain.

The desire that had just awakened raised its head regardless of time or place. Jürgen tried to endure. He believed that if he focused on other matters, it would subside on its own, but the s*xual urge that had belatedly found him wouldn’t let him go easily.

Satisfying his desire was damnably simple. All he had to do was take out his dark red er*ect c*ck from his waistband and stroke it. In the end, he was defeated whenever lewd desires overtook him. The days he had spent trying to stay away from women had long since lost their meaning.

While gripping his c*ck and stroking it, lost in vile fantasies that felt addictively good, black despair always consumed him once the act was over. Every time he hid in the bathroom to m*sturbate, he called out the name of the woman who would be staying somewhere in the mansion.

Why did it have to be you.

Why……

Even if Diez came to hate him, could he make any excuses? Being stabbed to death would be too good for him. To think he harbored the same desires as the late Duke who had tormented her. To think he stroked his c*ck while imagining doing exactly the same things.

Eventually, it became unbearable to even keep his eyes open in his right mind. Jürgen, who normally didn’t enjoy alcohol, drank heavily and headed to the nearby forest with a rifle while completely intoxicated.

The day of the downpour was no different. He emptied an entire bottle of brandy and stepped outside with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Walking unsteadily toward the forest in the rain, he pulled the trigger several times, unable to distinguish whether the prey before his eyes was an illusion or real. How many hours had he wandered through the forest with his gun, half filled with rage?

Suddenly, none other than Diez Schleicher appeared before his eyes.

A blonde woman, soaked by the rain and trembling with chills.

This must surely be a hallucination.

Convinced of this, Jürgen placed his hand on Diez’s shoulder. At that moment, he realized that this was no hallucination.

When he realized that Diez was actually wandering around the forest in this weather, anger welled up inside him, and he finally spoke,

“How could you come outside in this weather dressed like that?”

He barely managed to support Diez in his arms as she was about to collapse. The moment he embraced her wet body, he felt impure desires rising again and cursed himself.

“Please don’t scold me.”

The woman in his arms pleaded like that. What he held wasn’t just a pretty doll. She wasn’t someone he could freely abuse and exploit as his father had done.

I don’t want to be hated by you.

I’ve always tried to be different from my father. I’ve tried to stay as far away as possible from dirty and vile desires.

Becoming the same kind of person as the late Duke was what Jürgen had feared most until now.

But now he knew that what frightened him even more was the thought of Diez Schleicher despising him.

Diez didn’t mind being in his arms. It was proof that she trusted him as one person to another.

He didn’t want to destroy that trust.

He absolutely could not let her discover, no matter what.

The truth that he was a demon who had directly inherited his father’s blood.

* * *

Moved to an unfamiliar bedroom, Diez was lying ill in a plush bed. Surrounded by bedding that was larger and softer than what she had been using, she had been sleeping restlessly when she suddenly opened her eyes.

It was the middle of the dark night. Although the lights had been left on dimly, most of the visible objects were still deeply immersed in darkness.

I’m hot. My head hurts.

Even in her hazy state, such thoughts came to her. Just then, someone knocked on the door. She wanted to answer, but her voice wouldn’t come easily.

Barely managing to squeeze out a voice, she asked,

“Who…… is it.”

There was no answer. Instead, through the door that silently opened, the silhouette of a familiar man appeared.

Duke……?

Perhaps because of her cold, she could barely move her lips. Duke Klaus, swallowed by the darkness, seemed to stand there for a moment staring at her before taking one step at a time into the room.