Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 243 - 31

Chapter 243: Chapter 31

“Ah~”

Seijirou groaned in pure, unadulterated satisfaction as he sank into the depths of the plush sofa.

The cushions seemed to mold themselves to his frame, a welcome relief after a day that had felt like a marathon of social and spiritual gymnastics.

He sat with his arms spread wide across the backrest, his posture radiating the relaxed authority of a man in his own castle.

He was dressed down for the evening, wearing only his comfortable black boxers and a form-fitting black tank top that showcased the lean, functional muscle he had cultivated through years of disciplined training.

In the kitchen, the atmosphere was warm and domestic.

Yuko was moving with a light, rhythmic grace, humming a joyful tune that harmonized with the bubbling of a savory stew on the stove.

The scent of garlic, ginger, and slow-cooked meat drifted through the air, anchoring the penthouse in a sense of peace.

Behind Seijirou, Haruka stood like a silent, elegant shadow, her smaller hands, surprisingly strong and knowledgeable in the art of anatomy, were busy massaging his shoulders, working out the knots of tension that had accumulated near his shoulder blades.

“We have classes tomorrow…” Seijirou groaned again, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Sunday nights are the worst. It’s the psychological transition from freedom to the day of hell that kills you.”

“We also have to start preparing for the school’s festival,” Haruka noted, her voice as calm and steady as a mountain stream.

Seijirou blinked, “Huh? When’s the festival? I haven’t heard of it.”

Haruka didn’t pause her rhythmic kneading of his muscles. “It’s exactly two weeks from now, Seijirou-sama. The student council has already begun the final approvals for the school budget. You were hospitalised, so it’s natural you wouldn’t know”

“Oh…” Seijirou nodded, his eyes drifting shut as he felt a particularly stubborn knot pop under Haruka’s thumb. “School festival… Heh, I wonder what our class will do?”

Now that he thought about it, this is actually the first time that he will be attending a school festival.

In middle school, he couldn’t be bothered to attend and would just skip school to hang out with some girls.

“There are talks among the class representatives that it will be a crossdresser cafe,” said Haruka.

Seijirou choked on his own breath, his eyes snapping open. “Huh? A what?”

“A crossdresser cafe,” she repeated, her tone entirely clinical. “The girls in the class seem very enthusiastic about the concept. They believe it will attract the highest volume of female visitors from the neighboring districts.”

“What the hell!?” Seijirou exclaimed, “You mean I would have to wear a dress for the festival!? Who came up with this idea!?”

“You don’t have to worry, Seijirou-sama. I believe you can pull off a maid outfit quite convincingly,” Haruka added. “Your bone structure is versatile enough.”

“Fuck no,” Seijirou replied instantly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’ll fund the damn thing, I’ll manage the logistics, but I am not putting on a skirt for the amusement of the general public. Tell them I’m the ’Manager’ or something.”

Haruka smiled faintly at his reaction. It was a rare, blink-and-you-miss-it expression, her usually cold and emotionless face crumbling for a brief, beautiful moment before returning to its stoic, professional mask.

“By the way, Seijirou-sama…” Haruka paused her massage, her hands lingering on his shoulders.

At that moment, she turned her head slightly towards the kitchen, where her mother, Yuko, had stopped humming and was now staring back at them with a look of soft anticipation.

They shared a silent, meaningful nod, a secret language between mother and daughter that had been forged in the years they spent living together.

“Hm?” Seijirou hummed, sensing the shift in the air.

He didn’t turn around, but he could feel the sudden weight of the upcoming request.

“Mother and I… we’re planning to visit my grandparents in the countryside tomorrow,” Haruka began. “It’s my grandfather’s birthday, a milestone year. We realized it has been too long, and we’d probably stay there for the night to help with the celebrations.”

“…Is that it? I thought it’s something serious….no, maybe it’s serious for the two of you.”

Seijirou remembered a conversation he shared with Yuko some time ago.

Yuko had mentioned, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that it had been years since she had seen her parents.

This is because they had gotten into a screaming fight due to Yuko’s choice of man, and eventually got pregnant right when she was still in highschool and had to drop out.

The traditional family had viewed it as a stain on their honor, and the bridge had been burned ever since.

Although, if he remembered correctly, the grandparents did visit Haruka from time to time, but they never reconciled.

“Yeah, sure. You can go,” said Seijirou, his voice softening. After all, he understood the importance of blood ties, even the complicated ones. “There’s classes tomorrow anyway, but you can head out early. I can manage for one night.”

Haruka stopped her massage entirely now, her fingers curling slightly. “It’s just… Seijirou-sama, can you… can you come with us? We wanted to introduce you to my grandparents.”

Seijirou blinked in surprise as he tilted his head back, looking up at Haruka from a precarious angle. “Huh? I mean, I’m alright with the idea of a road trip, but… introduce me? As your boss? Isn’t that going to make things awkward if you’re trying to reconcile?”

“Not… particularly,” said Haruka, her eyes drifting to the side. “Grandmother messaged us through a private channel yesterday. She said they found out that we are living with you, that we have been taken in by the Kageyama family. They expressed a very strong desire to meet the man who is ’looking after’ us.”

“Oh. I see. I suppose it makes sense from their perspective,” Seijirou nodded, his mind already calculating the social maneuvers required for a countryside visit. “Very well. I’ll clear my schedule for the afternoon. We’ll go together.”

“Thank you, Seijirou-sama,” Haruka whispered, a genuine relief smoothing the lines of her face.

*

*

*

At this exact moment, hundreds of miles away, nestled deep within the jagged, mist-covered mountains of the countryside, sat a small, deceptively peaceful town.

To a passing traveler, it looked like a postcard of traditional Japan—quaint wooden houses, blooming cherry blossoms, and a sense of timelessness.

However, reality is far from being that peaceful.

At the highest point of the town, overlooking the valley like a silent predator, stood an ancient temple.

Inside the main hall, the air was thick with the cloying scent of heavy incense and something much more metallic.

At the center of the hall is an altar, and in front of it are a group of monks, their robes stained with old earth and sweat, and were kneeling in perfect, terrifying unison.

Their foreheads were pressed firmly against the cold stone floor, their bodies unmoving.

If one were to look into their eyes, they would find only a blank, hollow void, as if the lights of human consciousness had long since been extinguished by whatever resided in this place.

They were kneeling before a faceless mask that was place on the altar.

It was a smooth, white porcelain surface with no eyes, no nose, and no mouth, yet it seemed to radiate a cold, pulsating hunger.

Around the perimeter of the hall, the scene was far more gruesome.

A group of young, naked, and heavily pregnant women were tied to wooden posts.

Their arms were hoisted high, and their legs were spread wide in a posture of forced vulnerability.

Their eyes were wide with a drug-induced lethargy, their skin pale under the flickering candlelight.

Just then, the heavy wooden doors groaned open and a fat, ugly monk, his belly bulging beneath his saffron robes, walked inside.

He was chewing loudly on a massive, dripping piece of roasted meat, the grease staining his chin.

His small, piggy eyes scanned the women with a mixture of boredom and clinical interest as he made his way toward the altar.

As he reached the foot of the faceless mask, the prayers reached its climax.

Without warning, the women simultaneously began to go into labor.

They did not scream or struggle, only letting out a low, guttural moans.

Instantly, everal monks acted with practiced, mechanical efficiency, moving between the posts to deliver the children.

Before long, the silence of the temple was shattered as the thin, wailing cries of infants echoed throughout the vaulted ceiling, like a chorus of new life born into a den of death.

The fat monk glanced at the wriggling infants and gave a curt, greasy nod. “Very good. The timing is just perfect. Now, separate the girls and the boys. Clean the boys and prepare them for the consecration; they are to be offered to the Great God as vessels of essence. As for the girls… ensure they are kept healthy. They will grow up to be the next generation of Miko, to keep the bloodline pure.”

He paused, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And make sure our current Miko are given the strengthening elixirs. We need them healthy and ready for the next round of the nine-month ritual. The God’s hunger is growing.”

The monks moved to follow his orders, their movements silent and robotic.

Just then, the fat monk looked up at the porcelain mask and grinned, a ferocious and yellowed expression.

“Great God… I, your most humble and devoted follower, will surely awaken you from your slumber. The ’anchors’ are being set in the city, and the blood is flowing in the mountains. It won’t be long now. Please… just wait for a little while longer. We just need one more…one more pure blood….”

The mask seemed to ripple in the candlelight, a faint, black smoke curling from its smooth surface as the cries of the infants grew louder in the dark.