Free Web NovelChapter 473: Chapter 474: Cardinal Archbishop’s Plan
Looking at Aoyama Nanami and Asada Shino getting along amicably, Nozomi couldn’t help but show a relieved smile.
Fortunately, his Sakurasou would not have any depressing love triangles.
Although the girls would occasionally get jealous.
But there would be no big fights.
After fully demonstrating his boyfriend power, Nozomi handed over the time together to Nanami and Shino.
As soon as he walked out of the room, he saw a flushed Yusa Emi.
So he instinctively greeted her.
"Yo, Emilia, good evening... uh..."
"Good evening, I’m going to rest!"
The girl quickly ran away, her bare feet pattering against the wooden floor, as if he were some prehistoric beast. The tips of her ears burned crimson, visible even from behind.
Nozomi was instantly speechless.
Was he that scary?
And why was this Miss Heroine from another world blushing so much?
She probably heard something she shouldn’t have, he mused, scratching the back of his neck.
Without thinking too much, Hozuki Nozomi turned and went to the kitchen.
...
The warm scent of miso and simmering dashi curled through the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of steaming rice. He looked closely.
Shiina Mahiru, with her long golden hair tied in a single ponytail that cascaded down between her shoulder blades like spun honey, was humming a soft melody while cooking. The overhead light caught the fine wisps that had escaped near her temples. Her slender figure moved with practiced grace, a cream-colored apron cinched at her narrow waist, the ties forming a neat bow at the small of her back.
And Shiina Mashiro was adorably trying to wash vegetables on the side, but it looked like she was just playing—her pale fingers pushing a single carrot through the water over and over, her heterochromatic eyes fixed on the tiny ripples with childlike fascination.
Mahiru was definitely the type of a good wife and loving mother.
She could get along well with everyone in Sakurasou, and even become good friends.
If Mahiru left Sakurasou, it might not have such a harmonious atmosphere.
To thank the Angel for her generosity and effort, Nozomi quietly came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her body was warm through the thin fabric, the curve of her hips fitting perfectly against his palms.
"Ugh... Nozomi, stop messing around, I’m cooking."
The girl, who had been ambushed, didn’t even turn her head, but just glared at him from the corner of her eye—amber irises sharp with mock annoyance. The wooden spoon in her hand never stopped stirring.
Nozomi’s lips curved into a smile, and he leaned his lips to her ear, his breath ghosting over the delicate shell.
"I’m not messing around. I just suddenly wanted to hug you."
"Mahiru is really so gentle. Seeing your beautiful back, I just feel an urge to hug you."
Shiina Mahiru’s cheeks flushed pink, the color spreading down her slender neck. She couldn’t help but turn her head and give him a glare, though her lips twitched with a suppressed smile.
"Don’t say your perverted thoughts out loud, okay? I’m busy right now—if you want a hug, go hug Mashiro."
Honestly, this man... Mahiru thought, her heart fluttering despite herself. He always knows exactly what to say.
Hearing this, Shiina Mashiro, who had been pouting slightly—her lower lip pushed out in that adorable way—immediately stared at Nozomi with expectant eyes. Those mismatched irises, one gold and one violet, sparkled with anticipation.
She even opened her arms to him, her oversized sweater sleeves flopping past her fingertips, looking as if she was waiting for a hug.
Nozomi was instantly amused.
"Okay, then I’ll hug Mashiro. Mahiru, don’t get jealous."
Shiina Mahiru smiled calmly, turning back to her pot. "I won’t get jealous."
She often teamed up with Yukino or others to challenge Nozomi.
Although she was often counter-killed and always ended up begging him for mercy, her voice cracking with breathless pleas.
In short, she wouldn’t get jealous or angry at all; after all, he wouldn’t neglect her.
Nozomi released Mahiru’s slender waist and turned to pick up Shiina Mashiro. She weighed almost nothing, her petite frame settling easily into his arms. The faint scent of lavender shampoo rose from her silvery-blonde hair.
Then he went to the sofa in the living room.
He didn’t do anything else.
He just let the soft Shiina Mashiro sit on his lap, her slight weight pressing warmly against his thighs, quietly experiencing the warmth of the moment. Outside, the last amber light of sunset filtered through the curtains.
Shiina Mashiro, however, was a little restless.
She moved a few times, her bottom shifting against him, like a teasing little imp. Each small adjustment sent friction through the thin fabric separating them.
Nozomi pinched her soft cheek and warned her:
"Mashiro, be good, don’t move around."
Shiina Mashiro looked back at him, her expression very innocent—too innocent.
"But... it’s a little uncomfortable."
"Where are you uncomfortable?" Hozuki Nozomi asked with concern.
Shiina Mashiro, however, grabbed his hand and placed it on her calf, which was covered in white over-the-knee socks. The material was silky beneath his palm, hugging the slender curve of her leg perfectly. Through the thin cotton, he could feel the warmth of her skin, the delicate muscle beneath.
She had seen Nozomi often play with Ayano Kimishima’s or Yukino’s beautiful legs.
So, intentionally or unintentionally, she also started to like wearing white over-the-knee socks or black over-the-knee socks.
Will he praise me? Mashiro wondered, her heart beating a little faster. I chose these carefully.
Nozomi looked at her—clearly innocent and cute, yet deliberately seducing him—and felt that he was being provoked.
So he gave Shiina Mashiro a reward.
He lowered his head and gently kissed her lips. They were soft as flower petals, tasting faintly of the strawberry milk she’d drunk earlier. His other hand slid slowly up her calf, fingers tracing the edge where sock met bare thigh—that strip of creamy skin impossibly smooth.
Shiina Mashiro not only didn’t refuse.
Instead, she became more active. Her small tongue tentatively touched his lower lip, seeking entry. A soft sound escaped her throat—"Mmn..."—barely audible.
Her tender pink cheeks were deeply flushed now, the color spreading to the tips of her ears.
Her breathing also involuntarily became rapid, her modest chest rising and falling beneath her sweater.
She twisted in his lap, pressing herself closer, her thighs squeezing together. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
This pet-like blonde beauty was really getting better and better.
She had put a lot of effort into pleasing him.
Nozomi’s hand traveled higher along her thigh, drawing a shiver from her small body. He could feel goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips.
"Nnn... Nozomi..." she breathed against his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to see her face—eyes half-lidded, lips glistening and slightly parted, that perpetually blank expression finally showing cracks of genuine desire.
"Good girl," he murmured, thumb stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Mashiro trembled, a quiet whimper escaping her.
... ... ...
At the same time.
In a dim cave somewhere far from civilization.
The air hung thick with the cloying scent of incense and something older—iron and sulfur, the smell of ancient blood soaked into stone. Torches flickered in iron sconces, casting writhing shadows across walls carved with sigils that seemed to pulse with a faint, malevolent light.
In the center of an altar carved with mysterious patterns—spiraling runes that hurt to look at directly—a tall figure in a crimson robe suddenly opened his eyes. They glowed faintly gold in the darkness.
"Did the Divine Apostle actually fail?"
His voice echoed through the chamber, low and dangerous.
"No, I can’t just let it go!"
"Someone, bring the sacrifice."
"Yes, Archbishop!"
As the words fell, two figures clad in long black hooded robes knelt respectfully in acknowledgment and swiftly withdrew. Their footsteps faded into the labyrinthine tunnels beyond.
A short while later, the two returned, leading a black-haired girl wearing a thin white dress. The fabric was nearly sheer, clinging to her figure with each step, leaving little to imagination. Her bare feet padded silently across the cold stone floor.
From the girl’s delicate features—large purple eyes framed by thick lashes, a small nose, lips naturally pink and full—and snow-white skin that seemed to glow in the torchlight, it was clear she was a beauty.
Her slender figure filled out the dress enticingly, the fabric pushed up high by her proudly standing chest—full and round despite her petite frame, the faint shadows of her nipples visible through the thin white material. Her waist curved inward dramatically before flaring out to softly rounded hips. The youthful aura of the girl was unmistakable—she couldn’t have been older than eighteen.
The girl’s purple eyes shimmered with a bright, eager light as she gazed upon the Cardinal Archbishop.
"Ah!"
A soft gasp escaped her lips—not of fear, but anticipation.
After the two acolytes retreated into the shadows, the Cardinal Archbishop scooped up the girl with one powerful arm and sat down at the center of the altar, settling her onto his lap.
He removed his hood, revealing a handsome, mature face—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, eyes that burned with intelligence and cruelty—yet the top of his head gleamed brightly, completely bald.
He was a handsome, bald man. His physique beneath the robes was clearly powerful, shoulders broad, arms thick with muscle.
The Cardinal Archbishop lowered his head and domineeringly pressed his lips against the cute girl’s. His large hand cupped the back of her skull, holding her in place as his tongue invaded her mouth. The kiss was deep, possessive, tasting her thoroughly.
"Mmph—!" The girl moaned into his mouth.
She did not refuse; instead, an air of joy and fervor emanated from her entire being. Her small hands clutched at his crimson robes, pulling herself closer.
A good while later.
The Cardinal Archbishop finally released the girl, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips before breaking. His thumb traced her swollen lower lip as he smiled.
"Shiori, are you willing to become an apostle of the Divine One and dedicate yourself to the Divine Church?"
"Of course, I am willing, Archbishop!"
Finally, Shiori thought, her core clenching with need. He’s going to make me his.
The girl licked her lips—tasting him still—reached out her arms, and tightly embraced the handsome, bald man before her. Her modest breasts pressed against his broad chest.
"Excellent! Then, prepare to receive my blessing!"
The Cardinal Archbishop laughed heartily, his large hand skillfully tightening around the girl’s slender waist before sliding lower to grip her rear through the thin dress. He squeezed possessively, feeling her soft flesh yield beneath his palm.
The loose robe could not conceal his robust physique—nor the growing hardness pressing against Shiori’s thigh.
The adorable girl clung desperately to his neck, grinding herself against that hardness. A wet heat was already building between her legs.
She lifted her snow-white chin, exposing the elegant column of her throat.
Her charming little mouth opened slightly, tongue darting out to wet her lips.
"Come as you will, Archbishop!"
The Cardinal Archbishop’s spirits lifted, and he kissed her lips once more—harder this time, more demanding. His free hand found the front of her dress and ripped, the thin fabric parting easily to expose her bare breasts. They were perfectly shaped, capped with pink nipples already stiffening in the cool air of the cave.
Shiori gasped, arching into his touch as his rough palm closed over one soft mound.
"Ahhnn... Archbishop..."
He pushed her back against the altar stone, the carved runes cold against her bare skin. Her dress hung in tatters around her waist. His crimson robes fell away, revealing a body honed by decades of combat and dark rituals—scarred, powerful, intimidating.
And below, his thick cock stood fully erect, the head flushed and glistening.
Shiori’s purple eyes widened at the sight, a mixture of nervousness and hunger crossing her delicate features.
"S-so big..."
The Archbishop positioned himself between her spread thighs, the tip of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. She was already dripping, her arousal coating her inner thighs.
"Take it all, little lamb."
He thrust forward.
"AHHH—!" Shiori’s scream echoed through the chamber.
Her tight walls stretched around his girth, accommodating him inch by thick inch. The altar beneath them began to glow—crimson light pulsing in rhythm with his deep, powerful strokes.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The wet sounds of their coupling filled the cave, mixing with Shiori’s increasingly desperate moans.
"Yes—! More—! Archbishop—! Nnnngh—!"
Her small body rocked with each thrust, her breasts bouncing, her nails raking down his muscular back. Sweat sheened her pale skin, making her glow in the red light.
No one knew how much time had passed.
The altar beneath them emitted an intense red glow, enveloping the intimately entwined pair in eldritch fire that did not burn. Ancient energies swirled around them, drawn by the carnal ritual.
The Cardinal Archbishop roared—a primal sound—as he buried himself to the hilt one final time.
"TAKE IT—!"
"AHHHH—!" Shiori’s beautiful eyes rolled back, her body convulsing in orgasm. Her snow-white skin began to radiate a purple light, spreading from where they were joined.
When the light faded.
A slender tail—black and spade-tipped—materialized from the base of her spine. Black wings, leathery and imp-like, unfurled from her shoulder blades. Her ears had elongated slightly, pointed now. Her purple eyes glowed with supernatural hunger.
That peculiar tail and the imp-like wings confirmed the girl’s identity as a succubus.
Just moments ago.
This girl named Shiori had been transformed into a succubus by the Cardinal Archbishop through their joining.
"Very good, Shiori." The Archbishop remained inside her, still hard, his seed warm within her transformed body. "You must use your divine power to approach the designated shrine maidens and draw more fresh blood into our church."
"As you command, Archbishop."
Shiori giggled sweetly, her new tail curling around his thigh, and initiated a kiss—hungrier now, her forked tongue dancing with his.
The Cardinal Archbishop’s breathing grew ragged. He wouldn’t stand on ceremony either, rolling his hips to start moving again within her newly enhanced body.
He now needed to replenish more divine power for Shiori.
