Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 241 - Continuing Stuffing Her Womb

"’I can guess,’" Raven said. His voice quiet, the low register of someone speaking in a room where someone else was sleeping. "’You picked up.’"

"’I always pick up.’" A pause. The movement sounds of someone adjusting their position in a bed. "’You sound satisfied with yourself.’"

"’I must say,’" he said, looking at the notification again. "’You have remarkable connections.’" 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"’I have necessary connections,’" Veronica said. The precise distinction of someone who was calibrating a compliment. "’There’s a difference. When are you coming here?’"

"’Soon.’"

"’You say soon every time.’"

"’I mean soon this time.’"

A pause. The disbelieving pause.

"’The one I have with me,’" she said, "’seems like a priority candidate. I want you to evaluate her.’"

"’Send me the file again,’" he said. "’I’ll look at it tomorrow.’"

"’Fine.’" Another pause. The shifting quality of someone who was going to say something they had been holding. "’I’m missing you,’" she said. The plain delivery of it — not performed, not strategic. Just the true thing said simply.

He looked at the bed.

At the naked, thick, sleeping pregnant woman with her ruined hair and her milk-damp breasts and his seed still tracking down her thighs.

"’Sigh,’" he said. "’If only I could say the same.’"

"’YOU—’"

The immediate, sharp voice of someone who had received exactly the answer they had expected and was responding to it with the fond outrage of someone who knew this man.

"’PERVERT—’"

He had already pulled the phone from his ear.

The smiling-while-being-called-a-pervert quality of someone who was not particularly bothered.

He ended the call.

The phone was warm in his hand.

He walked to the window.

Parted the curtain.

The hospital courtyard below — the night-quiet quality of it, the amber-lit emptiness of a medical facility’s grounds at two-thirty in the morning. The car park. The entrance road.

Then:

Lights.

The rotating red-and-white lights of an ambulance coming through the gate — the urgent quality of its speed, the way the vehicle moved with the committed urgency of something that was carrying something that required committed urgency.

Voices.

Even at this height, through the glass — the organized chaos of a trauma reception team emerging from the entrance below. White coats. A gurney. The efficient choreography of people who had trained for this and were executing the training.

The ambulance doors.

Opening.

The gurney coming out — the rapid movement of it, the IV line visible, the neck brace, the pale quality of the person on it visible even from this floor. The bandaging at the head. The bad-impact quality of the way someone lay when the impact had been unexpected and had been absorbed by the body without preparation.

He could see the face.

Even from this height.

He could see the face the way he could see most things — the enhanced clarity of perception that his system provided, the purple-tinged filter that sharpened what eyes would normally soften.

The face.

The jaw. The familiar jaw from the parking lot two hours ago — the jaw that had been set with cold, quiet rage, that had said ’how long,’ that had said ’you bitch’ into an empty car on a highway before the highway had offered its own reply.

Vikram.

Raven looked down at him.

The trauma team moving efficiently, the gurney rolling fast, the urgent words of the paramedic reaching him in fragments through the glass: ’—highway collision — head trauma — internal bleeding possible — ICU prep—’

He watched until the gurney disappeared through the entrance.

Then he looked at the courtyard.

Empty again.

"’Sigh,’" he said, to nobody.

The contemplative quality of a man doing arithmetic.

’A husband. In the ICU two floors below. His pregnant wife, naked, in a bed thirty meters above.’

’What,’ he thought, ’would that husband see, if he were to open the wrong door.’

The thought arrived in the amused register of someone who had engineered a situation and was now surveying the architecture of it from a remove.

His cock.

The involuntary physiological response of the thought — the way the thought moved through him and arrived below as a statement.

He looked down at himself.

"’Mm,’" he said.

He turned back to the room.

"’Show me balance,’" he said, quietly. To the air.

The system window arrived.

The purple-edged notification, floating in the dark room, illuminated from within.

[ SYSTEM BALANCE ]

Incubus Points (IP): 80,247

Last credited event: Successful bloodline override — Phase 1/10 complete.

Bonus IP: Emotional manipulation (extended), Loyalty fracture (Class A), First instance (multiple).

He raised his eyebrows.

The genuine-mild-surprise raised eyebrows of someone who had not been checking an account and was now checking it.

"’It seems,’" he said, to himself, with the dry quality of someone making a financial observation, "’not looking at the bank account does increase the credit.’"

He dismissed the window.

Looked at the bed.

She was still asleep.

The deep, exhausted sleep of a body at the absolute floor of what it had — her breathing slow and full, her hands still on her belly in the automatic-even-in-sleep quality of the gesture. Her face, turned sideways on the pillow, her lips slightly parted.

Her body.

In the night-light — the full, warm, thick architecture of her. The pregnancy-changed body, the full breasts and the round belly and the thick thighs and the dark hair below. The bruise-warm marks. The damp sheets. The comprehensive evidence of an evening arranged around her in a way that was, objectively, one of the more significant scenes he had produced.

He walked.

His feet on the hospital floor. His cock — the stated, upright fact of it in the low light, the committed quality of something that had made a decision and was communicating it clearly.

He reached the bed.

Looked at her.

Sleeping. The deep, real sleep of genuine exhaustion.

He put one knee on the bed.

The mattress shifting with his weight. The small, mattress-adjustment movement that traveled through the surface to where she lay.

She didn’t wake.

He spread her legs.

"Mmh~ W...why... umh...~ p-pleas... wait...~ Ahn~"