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

Back in California, three weeks had passed and the mansion remained relatively empty. Apart from the hundreds of armed guards surrounding the massive estate day and night, there was no one constantly bothering Clara or telling her what she could and could not do.

At first, she remained indoors and locked herself away. She embraced the role of a prisoner waiting to be rescued, convinced someone would eventually come to question her, threaten her, or try to force something out of her. Yet as the days quietly slipped by, she gradually realized something unexpected.

No one actually cared what she did. That realization slowly changed her routine.

She began exploring the mansion, wandering through its endless hallways and lavish rooms while trying to understand how Damian could have owned a place like this all along while pretending to be nothing more than an overworked employee at the Blacksheep Firm.

Every new room she discovered only deepened her confusion. There were private libraries, indoor pools, training facilities, entertainment halls, gardens that looked like miniature parks, and hallways so long they felt like they belonged inside a palace rather than a private residence.

At one point, she genuinely found herself wondering when Damian had become the Sin of Lust.

Had he always been like this?

Had he simply been born carrying that title?

The more she explored, the less she understood.

Eventually, her curiosity extended beyond the mansion itself. She wandered through the enormous compound surrounding it, discovering beautifully maintained gardens, artificial lakes, private beaches and even the luxurious yacht permanently docked behind the estate. Before long, she found herself spending entire afternoons sunbathing aboard the yacht, quietly enjoying the ocean breeze.

Again, no one cared.

The guards acknowledged her presence but never interfered. The servants simply continued doing their jobs. Eventually she became bold enough to start making requests.

Whenever she saw a maid, a chef or even one of the household attendants, she casually mentioned foods she felt like eating. Fresh fruit. Pastries. Seafood. Drinks she hadn’t tasted in months since she joined the order of moses.

Every single request was fulfilled without question. It gradually became obvious that she was free to do almost anything she pleased, except leaving the estate.

That single invisible rule never changed.

As for Racheal, she behaved as though Clara simply didn’t exist. Looking back, Clara slowly realized that all the warmth Racheal, Hazel and Ruby had once shown her when they lived together had never truly been because of her. It had been because Damian loved her, so they accepted her as part of their family.

Now that warmth had completely vanished.

Whenever Racheal walked past, her eyes simply drifted over Clara without the slightest acknowledgement, as though she were nothing more than another piece of furniture occupying the room. On the rare occasions their eyes actually met, Racheal’s gaze carried unmistakable contempt before she immediately looked away again.

The message became painfully clear.

’You are not wanted here. We tolerate your existence because Damian wants you here.’

That particular morning, Clara and Racheal sat on separate couches within the enormous living room while the television reported on the growing protests and civil unrest sweeping across Lebanon.

Clara’s brows slowly knitted together. Something felt wrong.

The people she had met during the three to four months she spent in Lebanon had been deeply subdued. They spoke quietly. They avoided eye contact with authority figures. They feared questioning even the smallest decisions made by those in power.

Those people would never willingly gather in enormous protests. So where had this courage suddenly come from?

As the report continued, the anchor began discussing the mysterious incident in which Karim Haddad had somehow survived an assassination attempt after what witnesses described as an impossible supernatural phenomenon involving sand.

Clara’s eyes widened, a familiar suspicion immediately surfaced.

”Is Damian doing this?”

She turned toward Racheal.

The demon woman slowly frowned, looking almost irritated that Clara had chosen to speak to her.

”Who else would it be?” She shrugged indifferently.

Clara slowly clenched her fists.

For weeks she had ignored Racheal’s passive aggressive behavior, convincing herself it wasn’t worth confronting. She couldn’t ignore it anymore.

She abruptly stood.

”Do you hate me?”

Racheal let out an exhausted sigh so exaggerated it almost sounded theatrical. She slowly rolled her eyes before finally turning toward Clara.

”Am I supposed to like you?”

She responded with a question of her own.

”If the answer is yes, then give me one reason.”

Clara hesitated only briefly.

”Because I’m human?”

Racheal released another long, exaggerated sigh.

Without another word she stood up, clearly unwilling to entertain what she considered a ridiculous complaint. She casually spoke while walking toward the staircase.

”A racist calling out racism.” She let out a disdainful snort. ”Funny.”

Clara frowned deeply.

”What do you mean?”

Racheal stopped beside the staircase entrance. Without turning completely around, she glanced back at Clara over her shoulder.

”When you broke up with Damian, did you leave him because he was a bad person based on your own experiences with him or did you leave him simply because of his demonic bloodline?”

Buzz!

Clara froze. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She couldn’t answer immediately.

Racheal didn’t wait.

She simply turned around and calmly disappeared up the staircase, leaving Clara standing alone within the massive living room.

Did she leave Damian because he was a bad person?

The question quietly echoed inside her mind. She remembered discovering that he manipulated court cases using supernatural abilities. Yet personally Damian has never been cruel to her. If anything, he had always been sincere.

Even after their breakup, Damian’s rise to fame as Judge Hill and the mysterious Faceless had produced nothing but story after story about him helping ordinary people. He exposed corruption. He protected victims. He challenged powerful families. He healed the sick through the Ministry.

The more she thought about it the harder it became to honestly describe him as evil. That realization wasn’t what troubled her.

She didn’t regret breaking up with him. If anything, she simply regretted losing him. Her conscience remained clear because even if Damian had been good to her there were still people he had hurt.

People whose lives he had destroyed.

Ignoring their suffering simply because he had treated her kindly felt profoundly unfair.

Her voice became little more than a whisper.

”Damian wasn’t bad but he wasn’t good either.” She sighed. ”He has hurt innocent people.”

The words sounded less like an argument and more like an attempt to convince herself. Racheal’s annoyed voice suddenly echoed directly inside her mind.

”For someone who has survived assassination attempts from demons, saved humans from angels, and is probably the most wanted individual in the universe, I would argue that with all the pressure he’s under, you and the people of this planet should be grateful.”

Clara immediately looked around in surprise. The living room was empty.

Slowly she lowered herself back onto the couch. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she quietly stared at the television without truly seeing it.

For the first time, she found herself asking a question she had never seriously considered before.

What does it actually mean to be the Prince of Hell?

Surely it wasn’t a life of endless pleasure where he simply indulged himself every day.

It couldn’t be.

The Damian she had met recently was nothing like the man she once dated. He had become sharper and older like a blade that never returned to its sheath because it constantly expected another attack. He carried himself like a man who had learned that relaxing, even for a moment, could cost him everything.

That realization slowly changed the way she viewed him. Instead of seeing only a demon she began seeing someone forced to survive beneath unimaginable pressure.

And for the first time since their reunion she found herself wondering about Damian’s life instead of judging it.

Why hadn’t she asked what his life had become after revealing the truth to her?

Why had she cared about everything except the burden that came with carrying such overwhelming power?

Only now did she begin seeing his world through a different pair of eyes.