My Lust System: I Inherited The Sin Of Lust And His Three Wives

They guided her deeper into the house, their laughter soft but lively as they moved in a tight group, almost as if they had known her for years. The warmth in the air shifted as they stepped into the dining area, and Clara’s steps slowed on instinct.

The table was overwhelming.

It stretched long across the room, polished to a mirror shine, and every inch of it was filled. Plates upon plates of food were arranged with surprising care, steaming dishes of grilled meats glazed in rich sauces, bowls of creamy pastas, roasted vegetables glistening under a coat of oil, and neatly plated desserts sitting at the far end. The scent alone wrapped around her senses, rich, warm, and inviting, carrying a kind of homely comfort she had not felt in a long time.

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes moving from one dish to another.

”All this... for me?” she asked, her voice softer than before.

”Of course,” Hazel replied with a gentle smile. ”First impressions matter.”

Before Clara could respond, Racheal suddenly stepped forward, holding one of Damian’s oversized shirts in her hands. She lifted it slightly, tilting her head with a bright, almost innocent smile.

”Before we eat, you should change into this,” she said casually.

Clara blinked.

”Huh?”

Her gaze dropped to the shirt, then back to Racheal’s face, confusion clear in her expression. The idea came so suddenly it left her momentarily stunned.

Hazel chuckled lightly at her reaction, stepping closer and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

”It’s just to make you more comfortable,” she said. ”You’re among family now.”

”And it fits the mood better,” Ruby added with a sly grin, folding her arms. ”You don’t need to sit stiff at the table like you’re still at work.”

Clara hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides as she looked between them. There was no pressure in their tone, yet somehow, refusing felt wrong.

But wearing their husbands shirt in their home just felt uncomfortable.

”Come on,” Racheal said gently, already taking her hand. ”I’ll help you.”

Before Clara could overthink it any further, she found herself being led away, her steps uncertain as she glanced back briefly at Damian.

He simply smiled at her. If it were Ruby making the offer, he would object in a heart beat, but since it’s Racheal she knew Clara was in safe hands. There is no reason to be bothered.

By the time they disappeared upstairs, the room fell into a quieter stillness.

Damian walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, dropping into it with a relaxed sigh. He reached for a chilled can of beer from the side, popping it open with a soft hiss. He lifted it to his lips but stopped.

Hazel’s presence slipped in behind him like a shadow. Her hands glided over his shoulders, slow and deliberate, trailing down his chest as she leaned in. Her body pressed against the back of his head, soft and warm, her breath brushing lightly against his ear.

”Don’t get too comfortable,” she murmured.

Her tone had changed.

It was still soft, still gentle but there was something beneath it now. Something firm.

”Clara can never be your wife,” she continued quietly.

The air shifted.

”We will love her. We will cherish her. We will welcome her into this home...” her fingers tightened slightly against his chest, ”...as long as you never cross that line.”

There was no anger in her voice and that’s made it heavier.

”Do you understand me?” she whispered.

For a brief moment, the room felt still. If it were the old Damain he would have been flustered, scared or furious but he didn’t something different.

Damian tilted his head slightly, turning just enough to meet her gaze. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against her cheek.

Hazel blinked, the tension in her expression loosening just a fraction. Before she could say anything...

”Hey!”

Ruby’s voice cut in sharply.

She stepped forward with a frown, pointing at herself.

”What about me?”

Damian chuckled under his breath, reaching out and pulling her closer before planting a quick kiss on her lips. Ruby’s expression instantly softened, her earlier irritation melting into a satisfied smirk.

”That’s more like it,” she muttered.

At that moment, footsteps echoed from the stairs and all three turned. Clara stepped into view, and for a second, even the air seemed to pause. She wore Damian’s shirt and It hung loosely over her frame, the soft fabric brushing against her thighs, the sleeves slipping just past her wrists. Her hair had been let down, falling naturally around her shoulders, and without her earlier composure, she looked... different.

Softer.

And dangerously alluring in a way she didn’t even seem to realize. Racheal stood just behind her, smiling with quiet satisfaction.

”There,” she said proudly. ”Much better.”

Clara shifted slightly under their gazes, her fingers tugging nervously at the hem of the shirt.

”Isn’t this... too much?” she asked, her voice small.

Damian didn’t answer immediately. He simply looked at her and then he smiled.

”Not at all. In fact, I think it’s just perfect.”

Only then did Clara’s lips finally curve into a smile. The compliments from the women were pleasant, warm even, but in the end they carried little weight compared to his. It was Damian’s approval she craved.

Everyone took their seats and began eating. As the meal unfolded, Ruby, Hazel, and Racheal began asking her questions. The way they spoke made it feel natural, almost effortless, as though they were genuinely interested in every detail of her life. There was no stiffness, no awkward probing, just a smooth flow of curiosity that drew Clara in without resistance.

And she responded just as easily.

She spoke about her work, her routines, the little struggles she faced, even the things she usually kept to herself. Each answer came with a growing sense of ease, her earlier tension dissolving under the warmth of their attention.

Yet, from where he sat, Damian saw something entirely different.

Leaning back slightly in his chair, he watched the exchange with quiet amusement, his eyes drifting from one face to another. The scene before him felt oddly familiar, like something pulled straight from a movie. Parents sitting across the table, smiling sweetly while carefully dissecting every word from their daughter’s first boyfriend.

Except in this case, the roles were twisted.

He was the daughter.

Clara was the boyfriend.

The realization almost made him laugh.

There was something strangely comforting about it, something he had never experienced before. This subtle, unspoken tension of protectiveness, the quiet scrutiny masked behind polite smiles, the feeling that someone was watching closely, not out of suspicion, but out of care.

It was a phase of life he had never known.

And now, somehow, he was sitting right in the middle of it.

For once, he did not feel like he was chasing something, planning something, or manipulating outcomes. There were no schemes in motion, no calculations running in the back of his mind.

Just this.

A table filled with food.

Voices blending together in soft conversation.

Laughter rising naturally, without effort.

At that very moment, Damian realized something simple.

He was happy.

Genuinely, completely, and quietly happy with the life he had found himself in, and the family that now surrounded him.