The grand courtyard of the Sun Church’s sacred temple inner quarters was steeped in a thick, suffocating silence that made the surrounding paladin guards break into a cold sweat.
Down on the manicured marble pavilion, just outside the divine ward barrier, five of the most terrifying figures on the continent stood beneath the shade of tall white pillars.
They were pretending to inspect a series of ancient tactical scrolls spread across a stone altar, but in reality, none of them were reading a single rune.
Alistair stood with his massive arms crossed over his iron breastplate, his storm-grey eyes locked onto the distant marble balcony where Roxanne was currently enjoying her morning.
His jaw remained clenched so tightly that a muscle twitched along his cheek, his mind still replaying the agonizing image of Ethan receiving a soft, playful peck on his cheek earlier that morning.
“She called me a puppy,” Alistair rumbled under his breath, his voice so low and dark that two temple paladins standing ten paces away visibly flinched and clutched their halberds.
“I am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Vanguard.
I have slain hydras in the frozen northern wastes.
And she called me a puppy.” “To be fair, Commander,” Lucifer drawled smoothly, casually pouring himself a second glass of dark crimson wine despite the early hour, “you were growling at a priest like an untrained hound.
The description was quite fitting.” Alistair’s hand snapped to the leather hilt of his claymore, the iron scabbard clinking loudly against his thigh.
“Careful, demon.
You didn’t look much better holding that teacup like a desperate manservant.” “I was being attentive,” Lucifer countered, his crimson eyes narrowing into sharp, predatory slits as his dark aura flared, causing the sacred white lilies near the temple altar to instantly wither into black dust.
“A concept far too complex for a brute who shatters mahogany bedposts when he gets a little jealous.” “Enough, both of you,” Julian commanded, stepping between them.
The Crown Prince looked vastly different from the broken, weeping wreck he had been the night before.
His golden hair was neatly combed, his noble posture restored, and his blue eyes clear, though the lingering, painful scars of their journey remained.
Julian adjusted his high-collared tunic to conceal the dark abyssal scales and dragon-rot veins creeping up his neck.
Beside him, Malakai leaned against a white marble pillar, his left hand idly playing with a shadow dagger while his right arm, permanently covered in dark, iridescent black feathers, remained stiff and hidden beneath a heavy leather guard.
Both mutations were painful, permanent scars from their desperate plunge into the depths of Hell to drag Roxanne back to the mortal realm.
“We have far more pressing matters than arguing over who Roxanne teased this morning while resting in the temple,” Julian added firmly, though a faint flush touched his own jaw at the memory of her teasing him over the imperial honey.
“Easy for you to say, Your Highness,” Malakai rasped from the shade, his sharp amber eyes gleaming as he flexed his hidden, feathered right fingers beneath his glove.
“She called you a ‘good boy’ for putting honey in her tea.
I thought you were going to faint right onto her sanctuary rug.” Julian’s regal composure instantly cracked, a bright, undeniable flush rushing up his neck despite the dark scales along his collarbone.
He coughed awkwardly into his fist, turning his gaze back toward the stone altar.
“That…
that was merely her expressing gratitude for the royal harvest.” “Right.
Gratitude,” Malakai spat, his jaw clenching tight as he remembered how her playful affection had bypassed him entirely.
“And what about the church boy?
He’s been standing there staring at the sky like he’s seen a vision from the heavens.” A few feet away, Ethan stood perfectly still in the sacred temple courtyard, his white and gold High Priest robes fluttering in the gentle morning breeze.
His striking blue eyes were fixed on the sky, but his right hand was still resting softly against his cheek, right where Roxanne’s lips had brushed against his skin.
His face remained dusted in a soft, permanent pink blush that no amount of holy cleansing magic could wash away.
“The light…” Ethan murmured softly, completely ignoring the four men glaring murderously at his back.
“The divine light works in truly mysterious ways…” “If he says one more holy word, I’m throwing him into the temple fortress,” Alistair growled.
Up on the inner quarter’s stone balcony, Roxanne took a peaceful, sweet sip of her honey tea.
For the first time since transmigrating into the body of Roxanne von Duccat, she felt genuinely good.
The sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, her morning tea had been replaced by a delicious brew, and she was surrounded by a divine barrier that kept all political drama at bay.
She leaned her elbows against the carved marble railing, looking down at the five men standing in the courtyard.
It was almost hilarious when she remembered where this all started.
A few days ago, she was a pragmatic, deadpan college student.
Then she woke up in this world, standing on a dusty execution scaffold with five minutes left to live.
And sitting right in the front row, completely determined to see her head on a spike, were Alistair, Julian, Ethan, and Malakai.
They had hated her.
Genuinely, deeply hated her.
And now?
Those same four bloodthirsty executioners, along with a High Demon Lord, had plunged into the depths of Hell to rescue her, leaving Julian fully mutated with abyssal scales and Malakai cursed with a feathered arm.
Right now, they were standing in a temple courtyard practically growling at each other out of sheer, possessive jealousy over a strawberry and a cheek kiss.
A sudden, rare wave of genuine affection, and intense, mischievous amusement, sparked in Roxanne’s chest.
They literally went to Hell and back for me, Roxanne thought, taking another sip of tea.
And now they’re pouting down there like giant territorial disaster beasts.
[DING!
SENSITIVE HEROINE HEART DETECTED!
KYAAAAAAAAAH!] The System’s loud, hyperactive voice suddenly exploded inside Roxanne’s head, blinding her vision in a cascade of floating pink hearts, virtual cherry blossoms, and golden sparkles.
[HOST!
ARE YOU SADDENED BY YOUR DEVOTED HUSBANDS’ BATTLE SCARS?!
FEAR NOT!
THE GREAT HEROINE SALVATION SYSTEM IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY WITH A SPECIAL ROMANCE QUEST!] A bright, neon-pink notification box popped up directly in her line of sight: [SPECIAL EMERGENCY QUEST: PURIFYING TENDER CARE!] [Objective: Purify the Hell-corruption on Crown Prince Julian and Shadow Overlord Malakai.
Requirement: Press a direct, loving kiss onto the exact locations of their Hell-mutations (Malakai’s feathered arm & Julian’s abyssal neck scales).
Reward: Sacred Abyssal Cleansing Aura unlocked!
Permanent purification of Hell-corruption for both targets!
Penalty for Refusal: Severe full-body electric shock & System forces Host to wear a frilly maid outfit for 48 hours.] Roxanne looked at the quest description.
Usually, she would be mentally screaming, groaning, or threatening to dismantle the System piece by piece.
But today?
Today was a good day.
A teasing, playful smirk slowly spread across her lips.
Kiss the exact spots where they were mutated, huh?
Roxanne thought, setting her porcelain teacup back onto the silver tray with a quiet *clink*.
You know what?
Fine.
They literally fought high-tier demons and suffered abyssal curses just to pull me out of the void.
They deserve a reward, and I get to watch them completely lose their minds.
She leaned over the carved balcony railing, her dark eyes glittering with rare, playful mischief as her raspy voice carried over the courtyard.
“Hey!
Disaster men!
Get up here right now.” All five men froze instantly in the courtyard.
In unison, like trained hounds responding to a master’s whistle, five pairs of powerful, lethal eyes snapped up toward the balcony.
Alistair straightened his massive frame.
Julian adjusted his collar.
Malakai vanished his shadow blade.
Lucifer set down his wine glass.
Ethan snapped out of his holy trance.
Within ten seconds, the sound of heavy boots echoed up the marble stairs, and all five men crowded onto her spacious guest quarters balcony.
“Roxanne,” Alistair spoke first, his tone cautious yet eager.
“Is something wrong?
Are the wards flickering?” “Nothing is wrong,” Roxanne purred smoothly, taking a step forward.
She didn’t waste a single second, marching straight up to Malakai, who was lurking near the shadow of the doorframe, instinctively hiding his right arm.
“Roxanne?” Malakai blinked, his sharp amber eyes widening in surprise as she grabbed his right wrist without hesitation.
“What are you doing?
My arm is…” Before he could pull away, Roxanne unbuckled his heavy leather arm guard, letting it clatter to the stone floor.
She exposed the dark, iridescent black feathers covering his skin from wrist to elbow, the pulsing physical scar of his sacrifice in Hell.
Instead of showing horror or disgust, Roxanne looked up into his stunned yellow eyes, her lips curving into a teasing, affectionate smile.
She lifted his feathered wrist toward her face, leaned down, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly onto the dark plumage right over his pulsing mana vein.
*FLASH!* A brilliant, warm white light erupted from her lips the moment they touched his feathers.
The divine aura surged down Malakai’s arm like a rush of pure liquid sunlight, causing the dark abyssal corruption to sizzle and dissolve into soft, floating white particles.
Within seconds, the dark feathers melted away entirely, leaving smooth, unblemished pale skin beneath.
Malakai completely froze.
His sharp, dangerous Shadow Overlord aura shattered into dust.
A dark, intense blush exploded across his cheeks, rushing straight to the tips of his pointed ears.
“I…
you…” Malakai stammered, staring down at his perfectly restored hand, then looking back at her with wide, dazed eyes.
His brain completely short-circuited.
Being Malakai, his playful, arrogant nature desperately tried to kick back in, even though his face was burning red and his heart was hammering against his ribs like a war drum.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, leaning in close to her ear with a breathless, shaky smirk.
“Well, well…
if I knew getting mutated in Hell got me a kiss from you, sweetheart…
I would’ve let the demons corrupt my other arm too.” Roxanne chuckled softly, reaching up and lightly tapping his burning cheek.
“Don’t get greedy, crow.” Turning on her heel, she walked straight toward Julian.
The Crown Prince took an instinctive step back, his hand flying to his high collar to conceal the hardened, black abyssal scales along his neck.
“Roxanne, wait, my scales are dangerous…they carry dark mana….” Roxanne didn’t let him finish.
Stepping right into his personal space, she reached up, unbuttoned his top collar, and pulled him down by his lapels until he was at her eye level.
Julian’s breath hitched, his royal blue eyes widening in pure, breathless shock.
His hands hovered uncertainly near her waist, trembling.
Roxanne tilted his head back slightly and pressed a warm, deliberate, lingering kiss directly onto the dark, hardened scales pulsing on his neck.
[QUEST COMPLETE!
PURIFICATION UNLOCKED!] A blinding, golden holy wave erupted from her lips, washing over Julian’s neck, collarbone, and chest.
The black dragon-rot veins shrank back instantly, and the hardened abyssal scales shattered like glass, melting away into warm, golden light before disappearing completely.
His skin returned to its fair, healthy tone, and his chaotic royal mana instantly stabilized.
Julian let out a ragged, trembling gasp, his entire body shuddering at the soft sensation of her lips against his skin.
When she finally pulled back, the Crown Prince was standing completely frozen, his eyes wide and glassy, his face glowing a bright, unmistakable crimson that reached all the way beneath his tunic.
“Roxanne…” Julian whispered, completely unraveled, his usual regal composure entirely destroyed.
“You…
my neck…” “All healed, Your Highness,” Roxanne winked at him playfully.
Behind them, the balcony instantly devolved into absolute, unprecedented chaos.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Alistair roared, his massive frame shaking as his storm-grey eyes practically burst with explosive, agonizing jealousy.
“He gets a kiss on the neck for being careless in Hell?!” “Ahem,” Lucifer purred, though his crimson eyes were burning with intense, possessive envy as he set his wine glass down on the stone table with enough force to spiderweb the crystal.
“I believe I shielded you from three dark spears yesterday, little bird.
Where is my customized physical reward?” Ethan was still standing near the stone railing, his face permanently pink as his hand hovered over his cheek where she had kissed him earlier.
“The light…
truly, the divine light favors us today…” Roxanne looked at Alistair’s furious, jealous scowl and Lucifer’s sharp, competitive smirk.
She let out a light, melodic laugh that echoed through the balcony.
Why not?
I’m having a good day anyway, and they all saved my life.
She stepped up to Alistair, who was still fuming and crossing his arms.
Before the giant Commander could react or bark another order, Roxanne stood on her tiptoes, grabbed his leather lapels, and pressed a quick, sweet peck right onto his scarred cheek.
Alistair instantly shut his mouth.
The terrifying Supreme Commander of the Imperial Vanguard went entirely stiff as a board.
A bright, fiery blush rushed up his neck, turning his ears a deep, vivid red.
He stumbled back a step, touching his cheek with his massive iron gauntlet, his storm-grey eyes wide with sheer, speech-less shock.
“R-Roxanne…?” “Thanks for carrying me out of the void, Commander,” Roxanne smiled teasingly.
Then, she turned to Lucifer.
The High Demon Lord raised an eyebrow, a triumphant, arrogant smirk forming on his lips, until Roxanne stepped up, leaned in, and gave him a quick, feather-light kiss on the sharp corner of his jawline.
Lucifer’s smirk instantly froze mid-air.
His crimson eyes widened in pure, unadulterated astonishment as a rare, dark flush spread across his pale, aristocratic cheekbones.
He lost his cool, dark composure entirely, his slender hand rising to touch the spot where her lips had lingered.
“My…
my little bird…” Roxanne turned back around, taking a graceful bow like an actress after a broadway performance, looking at the five stunned, blushing, completely dysfunctional men gathered on her balcony.
[KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
MAXIMUM HAREM OVERLOAD!] The System shrieked inside her brain, throwing virtual confetti, fireworks, and weeping anime emojis all over her vision.
[HOST, YOU ARE A TERRORIST OF LOVE!
ALL FIVE MALE LEADS ARE AT 100% AFFECTION AND 0% BRAIN CELLS!] “Alright, disaster men,” Roxanne said, her clear, playful voice bringing them back from their dazed stupors.
“Now that everyone has been kissed, healed, and properly rewarded for saving my life…
who’s taking me down to the temple dining hall for breakfast?” Instantly, five hands reached out at once, and a chaotic, fiercely competitive war erupted on the temple balcony beneath the peaceful morning sky.