My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 372 - 372: Phei's Demon: Monster of the Past

Compared to her, Phei’s powers might as well be a pond staring into an ocean. A candle raising its flame against the sun.

A child clenching tiny fists at the feet of a god.

Melissa remembered.

She remembered every word her sister had spoken in the aftermath—voice cracked and hollow, hands still trembling months later even when she tried to hide it.

It took two days to subdue her!

Two full days. Two endless, merciless days of the strongest Ryujin Tiamat of her generation unleashing everything she had—fire that scorched stone to glass from just it’s heat before it even touched, wind that tore skies like paper, bloodline power poured out until the sky itself bled red—just to force that creature to take one step backward.

Not to defeat it. Not to wound it. Not to kill it.

To make it retreat.

And even that fragile victory of retreat had only come because a single whisper reached the monster’s ears: that the Ryujin Tiamat Matriarch herself was coming to rescue her kidnapped grandson.

The undisputed sovereign of the entire bloodline. A being whose name alone used silence battlefields and made immortals retreat, whose presence warped reality like heat over asphalt.

That was the lever that finally moved the monster to flee. Nothing less.

Phei was nowhere near that threshold. He had only just awakened tonight—raw, brilliant, terrifying in its potential—but still a spark in a storm. He didn’t even know the shape of what he carried inside him yet, let alone the name of the thing hunting him in its obsession.

He’s not ready, Melissa thought, the words carving themselves deeper with every heartbeat. If she wants him—if she’s already decided he’s hers—then what chance does he have?

Through the shifting bodies of the celebrating crowd she watched him. Watched the easy slope of his shoulders as he laughed. Watched the way light caught the sweat on his brow and made him look almost ordinary for a moment.

Watched him be happy—truly, unguarded happy—for perhaps the first time since she’d known him.

And she made her choice.

Not tonight. I won’t ruin tonight.

Tomorrow. She would find him tomorrow. Pull him somewhere quiet. Sit him down. Tell him everything—the monster’s history with the family, the scent of her power, the danger that had just walked back into their world.

She would give him time to brace himself, to understand, to prepare instead of panic. Tomorrow.

She pushed away from the wall. Wiped the damp tracks from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Forced her face into something resembling calm.

And walked toward the celebration, carrying a secret heavier than iron.

SOVEREIGN TOWER — SAME TIME

While the Academy still thrummed with post-game delirium—while Phei accepted fist-bumps and back-slaps like a king collecting tribute, while Kyle Abrams-Manson sat handcuffed in the back of an unmarked FBI van tasting the bitter afterglow of his own arrogance, while Melissa threaded through the crowd with her heart lodged somewhere between her throat and her spine—

A Rolls-Royce Phantom purred to a halt at the tower’s private entrance. Matte black, windows tinted to absolute, light-devouring opacity.

The valet stepped forward without prompting, gloved hand already extended for the door. His professional smile froze mid-curve when the woman emerged.

Long coat draped like spilled midnight silk, falling open just enough to reveal the dress beneath—black, liquid, clinging to curves that made the night air feel suddenly thinner, colder.

Hair cascading in thick, liquid waves down her back, catching the concealed lighting in impossible, obsidian gleams. And beneath her heels—as she stepped onto the curb with deliberate, predatory grace—black gold flashed for one fleeting, defiant second against the pale marble.

The valet accepted the keys. His fingers trembled. Some ancient, wordless instinct—older than language, older than fear—screamed at him to drop them, to back away, to flee. He did not.

He forced the smile wider, drove the Phantom to its spot, and tried—very hard—not to remember the exact color of her eyes when they had brushed his.

Empty. Hungry. Wrong.

The monster entered the Sovereign Tower lobby as though the building had been holding its breath, waiting for her return.

Her heels struck marble—sharp, measured clicks that echoed with unnatural clarity, each one landing like the tick of a clock counting down to something inevitable. The black gold flashed with every step, catching concealed lighting in ways that should have been impossible, drawing eyes and refusing to let them go.

Halfway to the reception desk she stopped.

Utterly. Still.

Nostrils flared. One breath. Two. A third—deeper, slower, savoring.

Her gaze locked onto Calistra.

The receptionist sat with flawless posture, ice-blue eyes calm, fingers already hovering over the registration screen.

She had not yet looked up. She did not yet feel the weight of being seen.

The monster’s lips curved. Genuine pleasure this time—slow, syrupy, delighted.

Oh, the thought purred inside her skull, velvet and venom. You’ve interacted with him too, haven’t you?

She could smell it. Faint, unmistakable traces woven into Calistra’s skin, her hair, the crisp fabric of her uniform. Not lust. Not possession.

Something subtler—shared glances across a marble counter, quiet conversations that lingered longer than necessary, the faint chemical hum of mutual interest.

Proximity. Curiosity he had for this blue-eyed receptionist. The first fragile threads of something human.

Little prodigy’s been busy, she thought, amusement curling warmer, darker. Building connections. Building a web. Clever boy. Very clever.

The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Replaced by cool, aristocratic elegance—spine straightening, chin lifting, every line of her body suddenly radiating generational wealth and effortless command.

The perfect mask for the perfect hunter.

She glided the rest of the way to the desk.

“Good evening,” she said. Voice like velvet dragged over broken glass—smooth, sweet, edged with something darker, something that made the air taste metallic. “I’m here about residency.”

Calistra looked up. Professional smile locked in place. No flicker of recognition.

“Of course, ma’am. Welcome to Sovereign Tower. Short-term lease or permanent residence?”

“Permanent.”

The word fell like lead into still water.

Calistra’s fingers danced across the keys. “We have several excellent options on the mid-to-high floors, and one premium unit on seventy-two that just became available—”

“Unit 98C.”

Calistra paused. Checked the screen again. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but 98C is one of our signature penthouses. It’s been vacant due to… the stringent requirements for that level. The vetting process typically takes several months, and—”

The woman reached into her coat without hurry. Produced a black card. Set it on the marble with a soft, deliberate click that somehow rang through the entire lobby.

Calistra stared at it.

Her composure fractured—just a hairline crack. Enough to show she understood exactly what the card signified. Enough to know that vetting, waiting lists, protocols—they all dissolved in its presence.

“I’ll pay for the year upfront,” the monster said calmly. “Cash, wire, whatever simplifies the paperwork.”

Calistra swallowed once. “That… won’t be necessary, ma’am. The card is sufficient.” Her manager had told her about this particular customer/resident’s arrival and had told her to make no mistake in her presence, or she can say goodbye to her job.

“Wonderful.”

She smiled again.

Calistra felt it this time—that atavistic warning etched into human DNA across millennia. The one that whispered danger, run, this is not human.

She did not run.

She processed the forms. She scanned the card. She produced the keycard. She delivered the standard welcome speech with perfect diction.

And she tried—very hard—not to register how the woman’s eyes lingered. How her nostrils flared subtly when they were close. How the smile revealed just one too many teeth.

“I think I’m going to enjoy living here,” the monster said, sliding the keycard into an inner pocket. “So many interesting… scents.”

She turned. Walked toward the private elevator.

The black gold beneath her heels flashed one last time—dark fire against pale marble—before the doors whispered shut behind her.

Unit 98C.

The same floor as Phei’s penthouse.

The monster was here to stay. Right next to Phei’s unit.