The Core's glow was no longer pulsing.
It sat in the air above Rudra's desk like a floating ember, dim but steady, like it had done its part and was now watching silently. The summoning ring faded beneath his feet, its energy dissolving into the floor as the space around him adjusted to something entirely new. Something alive.
She stood at the center of the room—still, silent, and breathtaking.
Rudra did not move at first. His breath, shallow. His heart, steady but slower than usual. He blinked once, just to be sure he was really awake, that what he saw was real and not something constructed by the Core as an illusion.
But no illusion could have created her so perfectly.
Her bare feet touched the floor like they had always belonged there. Her toes slightly curled against the wood, her posture relaxed, confident, as if this wasn't a new world for her at all. Her legs were long and flawless, smooth and toned in a way that suggested strength, not fragility. Her hips were full—curved gently outward from a narrow, soft waist—and the lines of her body flowed without break or stiffness.
Her arms were at her sides, fingers slightly relaxed, her shoulders open as she stood with quiet pride. Her breasts were exposed, round and lifted, perfectly shaped, her nipples darkened slightly with the cool air, firm and soft at once. The slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed created the slowest motion in the room.
And lower her pink pussy was staring as if wanted to say something....
There was no covering.
Between her thighs her pussy was completely bare—no cloth, no underlayer, no veil. The folds of her womanhood glistened in the low light, slightly parted, soft and warm in color, and unmistakably wet. A faint shimmer of natural moisture clung to her inner thighs, catching the red hue from the Core.
But she wasn't embarrassed.
There was no discomfort in her posture.
She didn't move to cover herself or step back.
She simply looked at him.
Her eyes—deep, red-tinted, shaped like they were built for drawing secrets—studied Rudra the way a queen might study a man who had crossed mountains to kneel at her feet. Curious. Amused. Patient. And just the slightest bit amused by his surprise.
"You took your time," she said softly.
Her voice was exactly what he remembered from the comic.
Low, warm, feminine—every word shaped like it had been thought through twice before it left her lips.
Rudra's mouth was dry, but he kept his voice calm.
"I didn't expect you to look like this," he said quietly.
She smiled.
"Then you weren't paying attention."
Her gaze dropped over him slowly. He was still fully clothed—black shirt, loose grey trousers, bare feet from having removed his shoes hours ago.
"But you will," she added, her voice like a silk thread brushing over skin. "You will learn to pay attention to everything I show you."
He exhaled slowly, his hands still at his sides. There was no threat from her posture, no sign of immediate aggression. But there was something intimate about the way she stood—like she was in his space already, even from several feet away.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She blinked, and her smile curved again.
"You already know," she replied. "You wouldn't have brought me here if you didn't."
The way she said it wasn't arrogant—it was intimate. Honest.
"Lazara," he said.
The sound of her name filled the room like incense.
She stepped forward.
Not fast. Not dramatic. Just one quiet step at a time. Her body moved without hesitation—her hips swaying slightly, her breasts shifting gently with each stride. As she approached, the scent of her became clearer—not strong, but unmistakable. A natural warmth, like heat rising from clean skin after a warm bath. Feminine, soft, real.
She stopped just in front of him.
Their bodies nearly touching.
He could feel her warmth now—radiating from her bare skin to his chest.
Her eyes were close, and he could see the slight shine at the edge of her lower lip, the light moisture on her collarbone, the perfect arch of her neck.
"I'm here now," she whispered. "Fully. In flesh. In desire."
Rudra didn't speak.
His eyes moved slowly over her body, not in hunger but in recognition—like a man watching fire for the first time, understanding not just the beauty but the danger. She was real. She had weight. She had scent. She had heat.
And she was his.
But not like a servant.
More like a mirror of something he'd hidden deep inside himself—his need for control, his hunger for intimacy, his quiet craving to be the center of someone's undivided attention.
She reached out, her fingers brushing his chest lightly—just her fingertips, tracing the line of his collarbone beneath the shirt fabric.
"You've spent too long thinking," she whispered. "Too long building in silence."
Her hand unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
"You don't have to speak right now."
Another button.
"Let me speak."
She pushed the shirt open and leaned in, her lips brushing his neck gently.
Rudra's hands moved without instruction—his palms settling on her bare waist, fingers sliding slowly along the curve of her hips. Her skin was warm, soft, smooth beyond anything he had ever touched before.
She pressed her XL sized breasts against his chest now, bare skin on cloth, her nipples brushing against him softly with every breath she took.
And between them…
He felt the heat from her core. Her thighs spread just slightly, and the wetness he had seen was now felt—warm, slick, already responding to the closeness, soaking the skin between her legs, coating her entrance to her vertical lips.
Her arousal was not subtle.
It was honest.
She wanted him.
Not because of magic.
Not because of command.
But because she had chosen to want him.
Her hand slid behind his neck, pulling him closer, her breath now hot against his lips.
"I've been drawn into this world naked, without defense, without memory of pain or fear," she whispered. "But I know one thing the moment I see you."
"What's that?" Rudra asked, voice lower than before.
She smiled.
"That my first act in this world will be to claim you. To let you feel every inch of me—and in return, you'll give me the only thing I truly crave."
"Which is?"
"Your control."
She leaned in, kissed him—not hard, not soft, but completely. Their lips moved together slowly, learning each other's pressure, rhythm, taste. Her hands pulled him closer. Her thighs opened further . Her bare cute pink pussy now pressed fully against the front of his pants, soaking into the cloth.
The kiss broke slowly.
She looked at him, eyes half-lidded, glowing faintly in the red Core light.
"Undress me with your hands if you want," she whispered. "But I was born into your world like this. Naked. Needy. Yours."
Rudra didn't speak.
He lifted her.
She wrapped her legs around him easily, her body fitting against his like water fits a vessel. He carried her to the bed—every movement between them quiet but full of heat.
Her breasts pressed against his chest again, her lips finding his neck once more.
And beneath the thin cloth of his pants, he felt her heat grow stronger.
Her wetness now soaked the fabric, her slick folds grinding softly against him as she moved in slow circles.
She whispered once more in his ear—
"I'm ready whenever you are."
And Rudra knew:
The first night of his empire had finally begun.
—