Chapter 168: +18 Lisara. Missing 12, Lacus. Catching Kallen.

The hallway stretches before you, candlelight flickering against the stone walls as you make your way back toward the main hall. The sounds of animated conversation have dimmed to murmurs, the evening settling into its final hours.

When you step through the archway into the main hall, you find it considerably emptier than before. The long table holds only a handful of women now, their voices soft and unhurried. The Unseen Servants have cleared most of the dinner settings, leaving only wine glasses and half-finished desserts scattered across the wood.

Lisara sits alone near the center of the table, her auburn ponytail fully loosened now, strands framing her face as she picks at a bread roll with idle fingers. Her charcoal sportswear has dried from the day's combat drills, though the cutouts still reveal the toned skin beneath. She glances up as you enter, her brown eyes warm.

Charlotte and Milly remain deep in conversation at the far end, their chairs pulled close together. Charlotte's blue eyes are animated in a way you have rarely seen, her half-loose ponytail swaying as she gestures to emphasize a point. Milly listens with her chin propped on one hand, blue eyes sharp and engaged. Whatever topic has captured them seems to have built genuine rapport between the two analytical women.

Kallen has shifted to sit beside Yor, the two women sharing a comfortable silence. Kallen's red hair spills over the back of her chair as she leans back, one arm draped over the seat beside her. Yor sits with perfect posture, her violet eyes calm, her casual clothes making her look almost domestic in the warm light.

Lacus occupies her own section of the table, pink hair catching the candlelight as she reads something from a small leather-bound book. Her white bunny suit is pristine, her expression one of quiet contentment.

It is Lisara who sets down her bread roll and meets your gaze directly. She pushes back from the table and stands, smoothing her sportswear with both hands. Her auburn hair catches the light as she tilts her head, a familiar warmth in her brown eyes.

"I was waiting," she says simply, crossing the hall toward you. Her steps are unhurried but deliberate, the confidence of a young woman who has long since stopped being nervous about asking for what she wants. "Figured I'd get my turn before you disappear entirely."

She stops before you, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of exertion still clinging to her from the day's training. Her lips curve into a crooked smile.

"Unless you're too tired," she adds, her tone carrying that particular blend of challenge and affection that has become her trademark since the early days of the household. "In which case I'll just have to be more persuasive tomorrow morning."

Behind her, Charlotte's gaze flicks toward the interaction briefly before returning to Milly. Kallen catches your eye and raises her wine glass in a silent toast. Lacus turns a page without looking up.

You close the distance between yourself and Lisara in a single step. Her brown eyes widen for half a heartbeat before your hand cups the back of her neck and pulls her mouth to yours. The kiss is firm, possessive, your tongue sweeping past her lips with the confidence of someone who has tasted her before. Lisara makes a small sound against your mouth, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as she presses closer.

When you break the kiss, her lips are flushed and parted, her loosened auburn hair framing a face that carries both warmth and that familiar crooked smile.

"Where do you want me tonight?" you ask.

Lisara tilts her head, considering. Her brown eyes drift toward the hallway, then back to you. "Your room," she decides. "I like the bigger bed. And I want to talk for a bit after."

You lead her through the corridor, past the doors where Euphemia, Alicia, Shirley, and Prim already sleep. The master bedroom opens at your touch, the Unseen Servants having already turned down the covers and set candles burning low on the nightstand. The space is larger than the individual rooms, the bed wide enough for three or four bodies with room to spare.

Lisara doesn't wait for you to undress her. Her fingers find the clasps of her charcoal sportswear, peeling the sweat-dried fabric away. The cutouts reveal skin that is still warm from the day's exertion, her toned body catching the candlelight as she strips down to nothing. She stands before you bare, auburn hair loose around her shoulders, her expression carrying a particular blend of challenge and affection she has perfected over the days.

"Well?" she says, one eyebrow raised. "You going to stand there looking at me, or are you going to earn your keep?"

You cross the room and lift her onto the bed. She lands on her back with a laugh, her legs wrapping around your waist as you settle between her thighs. You push inside her with a single smooth stroke, and Lisara's laugh dissolves into a drawn-out moan, her head falling back against the pillows.

She is wet and ready, her body familiar with yours in a way that makes everything effortless. You set a pace that is neither rushed nor lazy, your hips rolling against hers in a rhythm she matches. Her fingers lace behind your neck, pulling you down for another kiss as her walls clench around you.

"Slower," she breathes against your mouth. "I want to feel it."

You oblige. Each thrust draws a soft sound from her throat, her brown eyes half-lidded and fixed on your face. She comes once with your name on her lips, her body arching beneath you, her nails dragging down your back. You continue through her aftershocks until she builds again, her thighs trembling against your sides.

The second climax is harder, her voice cracking as she pulls you deeper. You finish inside her with a groan, your forehead pressed against hers, both of you breathing hard in the candlelit room.

Afterward, you clean her with Prestidigitation and settle beside her on the wide bed. Lisara turns on her side, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, her brown eyes still hazy but alert enough for conversation.

"So," she says, tucking herself against your chest. "Tomorrow's going to be interesting. Two new girls showing up after breakfast."

She traces idle patterns on your skin with one finger. "I was thinking about the adventure. About what kind of fighting we'll actually need to do. Charlotte's been teaching Neia positioning theory, and Neia's archery is genuinely impressive. But I wonder if we should be training together as a group rather than just pairs."

Her voice carries a thoughtful quality as gets when she is genuinely engaged with a problem rather than merely making conversation. The carpenter's daughter who became the first to lose her virginity in this household, who holds her peculiar hierarchical place with quiet confidence, now speaks as someone invested in the collective strength of the group.

"What do you think?" she asks, looking up at you.

You lean down and press your lips to Lisara's, the kiss soft and lingering against her half-smiling mouth. She makes a small sound of contentment, her fingers still tracing idly on your chest.

"Asking me is cheating," you murmur against her lips. "I already know what your first adventure is."

Her brown eyes snap open, wide with surprise and indignation. "You can't just say that and not explain!"

"I just did." You brush a strand of loosened auburn hair from her face. "For now, it's time to sleep."

"Wait, that's completely unfair, you can't just tease me and then"

You cast Sleep. The spell settles over Lisara like a warm blanket, her protest dying mid-sentance as her eyelids flutter shut. Her body goes limp against the pillow, her expression smoothing from outraged disbelief into peaceful unconsciousness. A small crease remains between her brows, as though even in sleep she is annoyed at being denied an answer.

You pull the covers over her bare shoulders and rise from the bed. The master bedroom is quiet, candlelight flickering low across the wide space. You reequip your clothes instantly and step into the hallway, the stone floor cool beneath your feet.

The walk back to the main hall takes only moments. When you push through the archway, you find the space nearly empty now. The Unseen Servants have cleared the remaining dinner settings, leaving only a few wine glasses and the dying embers of the hearth. The candles burn at their lowest setting, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

Charlotte and Milly remain at the far end of the table, though their conversation has wound down to quieter exchanges. Charlotte's blue eyes meet yours briefly as you enter, a flicker of acknowledgment before she returns her attention to Milly. Their chairs have been pulled close together, and whatever rapport they have built over the past hours seems genuine rather than forced.

Kallen has gone. Yor's seat sits empty beside the indent where the red-haired girl had been.

Lacus still occupies her section of the table, her pink hair catching the low candlelight as she closes her small leather-bound book. She looks up as you approach, her blue eyes carrying that particular blend of quiet confidence she has developed over recent days.

"Everyone else has gone to bed," she says, setting the book aside. Her white bunny suit is pristine despite the late hour, her posture relaxed in a way that would have been impossible during her first days in the household. "I was waiting to say goodnight properly."

She tilts her head, pink hair spilling over one shoulder. "Unless you'd accompany me. I wouldn't mind."

Her offer is calm, without pressure or performance. The pacifist princess who once sang songs of peace while soldiers died around her now sits in a bunny suit at nearly midnight, asking if you want her to stay.

You glance around the nearly empty hall with a theatrical sigh. "I seem to have missed quite a few of you tonight."

Lacus tilts her head, pink hair catching the dying candlelight. "There are quite a few of us now," she says, a gentle smile curving her lips. "I don't mind waiting."

You cross the distance between you and cup her chin, tilting her face up for a kiss. It starts soft, your lips pressing against hers with deliberate tenderness. Lacus makes a quiet sound of surprise, her blue eyes fluttering shut as you deepen the contact. When you break away, her cheeks carry a faint pink flush that matches her hair.

Then you kneel.

Lacus's eyes widen as your mouth finds the curve of her neck, your lips tracing a slow path downward. She gasps, her fingers threading into your hair as you kiss along her collarbone, tasting the warmth of her skin. Your hands find her waist, and as your mouth reaches the exposed upper slope of her chest above the bunny suit, you gather her into your arms and rise in a single fluid motion.

She lets out a startled laugh, her legs instinctively wrapping around your torso as you lift her. "You don't have to carry me," she murmurs, though her arms tighten around your neck.

"You are mine to do with whatever I want to." You say into her breasts.

You carry her through the corridor, your mouth never leaving her skin. Each kiss draws a soft breath from her, her body growing warmer against yours as you knead her through the thin fabric of the white bunny suit. Her fingers grip your shoulders, her head tipping back to give you better access to the swell of her breasts above the suit's low neckline.

Her room opens at your approach. You lay her on the bed, the sheets cool beneath her, and she watches you with blue eyes as you peel the bunny suit away from her body. The fabric slides off her shoulders, past her hips, pooling on the floor. Her undergarments follow, removed carefully as your mouth traces lower, across her stomach, along the inside of her thighs.

Lacus arches when your tongue finds her. A breathless moan escapes her, her pink hair fanning across the pillow as her hips shift toward your mouth. You take your time, reading her body's responses as you play with her attention. Her thighs tremble when you find the pattern she responds to most, her fingers curling into the sheets.

"Ah, that's, you're going to make me-" she breathes, her voice breaking into a cry as the first climax rolls through her. Her back arches off the bed, her legs pressing against your shoulders.

You continue through her aftershocks, slowing your pace before building again. The second climax comes harder, her voice rising in pitch, her hands finding your hair and pulling. The third leaves her trembling and wordless, tears pricking the corners of her blue eyes from sheer intensity.

When she finally lies still, her chest heaving, you cast Prestidigitation to clean her gently. You pull the covers over her bare body, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.

Lacus reaches up and touches your face with trembling fingers. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice soft. "Goodnight."

Her eyes close within moments, her breathing evening into sleep. You rise from the bedside and step back into the hallway, the manor quiet around you.

The hallway stretches quiet and dim before you, candlelight reduced to the barest flicker in each magical sconce. You walk slowly, your bare feet making no sound against the stone. Each door you pass earns a moment of stillness, your senses extending through the wood to find the slow breathing within.

Euphemia's room carries the deep, even cadence of genuine sleep. Lisara's. Arche's. Orihime mumbles something incoherent in her sleep. Charlotte is steady with quiet breathing. Shirley's door yields the same peaceful quiet.

Then you reach Kallen's room.

The sound is subtle but unmistakable. A shift of weight against sheets. The creak of a mattress as someone turns over. Then another turn, restless and deliberate. You pause outside the door, listening to the frustrated rustle of fabric.

You push the door open gently. The room is lit by a single candle on the nightstand, its flame barely more than a whisper. Kallen lies on her side in the narrow bed, her red hair fanned across the pillow in a wild tangle. She wears a thin white sleep shirt that has ridden up past her hips, exposing the curve of her waist and the pale skin of her thighs. Her eyes are open, fixed on the far wall with the particular intensity of someone who has been staring at nothing for far too long.

"Having trouble sleeping?" you ask from the doorway.

Kallen's head snaps toward you. For a heartbeat her expression carries that defensive edge, the competitive fire that defines her. Then it softens into something more vulnerable, more tired.

"Couldn't turn my brain off," she admits, pushing herself up onto one elbow. "Kept thinking about tomorrow. About Laura. About whether I'm actually any good at this whole mentor thing."

You step into the room and dismiss your clothing into your inventory with a thought. The fabric simply ceases to exist, leaving you bare in the candlelight. Kallen's violet eyes widen, then narrow with familiar challenge.

"I have something that should help put you to sleep," you say, crossing to the bed.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Her voice carries that particular blend of sarcasm and anticipation she reserves for you. "Night crawling?"

You lean down and kiss her before she can deliver another quip. The kiss is slow, unhurried, your mouth moving against hers with intentional patience. Kallen melts into it, her hand finding your jaw, her fingers tracing along your skin. When you pull back, her competitive edge has dissolved into something softer.

Your fingers find the hem of her sleep shirt and tug lightly upward. "I'm glad I caught you before you fell asleep."

"I wasn't going to fall asleep," she mutters, but she raises her arms obediently as you pull the shirt over her head. Her breasts catch the candlelight, nipples already tightening in the cool air. "I was going to lie there being miserable for another six hours."

You settle onto the bed beside her, pulling her against your chest. Your hand traces down her spine, over the swell of her hip, between her thighs where she is already warm. Kallen gasps against your shoulder, her legs parting instinctively.

"You're always ready," you murmur against her ear.

"Shut up," she breathes, but there is no heat in it.

You guide her onto her back and position yourself between her thighs. When you push inside, Kallen's head falls back against the pillow with a long, shuddering exhale. Her legs wrap around your waist, her heels pressing into the small of your back.

You match her pace rather than imposing your own. Slow, deep strokes that make her breath catch each time you bottom out. Her fingers dig into your shoulders, her hips rolling to meet yours in a dance that is neither competitive nor performative. Just two bodies finding a shared tempo in the candlelight.

Kallen comes first, her walls clenching around you as she bites down on her lower lip to keep quiet. You continue through her aftershocks, maintaining the same languid pace until she builds again. The second climax pulls a broken moan from her throat, her nails leaving crescents on your back.

You finish inside her with a groan, your forehead pressed to hers. Kallen's eyes are already half-closed, her breathing slowing as the tension drains from her body.

You cast Prestidigitation to clean her, then pull the covers over both of you. Kallen nestles against your chest, her red hair tickling your chin.

"That was cheating," she mumbles into your skin. "Using sex as a sleep aid."

"Is it working?"

A pause. Then a soft, drowsy laugh. "Maybe."

Her breathing evens within minutes, her body going slack against yours. You remain still, listening to her sleep, the candle guttering low on the nightstand.