Sajyou Manaka's POV
I don't know if everything was going in the right direction or if it had completely gone wrong.
Why—of all people—was it my brother who managed to break free from the cage of destiny that was meant to bind him forever?
I didn't understand.
From everything I had seen, everything I knew—from my visions, from the records of fate—he was never supposed to resist. He wasn't supposed to retaliate, wasn't supposed to care, wasn't supposed to be furious at me over something as trivial as a couple of girls who were ultimately irrelevant to his life.
He was supposed to live as he always did—cold, detached, avoiding me, ignoring everything that wasn't worth his time.
That was how he was supposed to be.
Because that was who he was.
I had studied him. Watched him. Understood him better than anyone.
People saw a charismatic man—gentle, humorous, friendly. A person who could laugh and make others laugh.
But I knew better.
Underneath that polished mask, he was just like me. He saw the world as a game, people as pieces, everything nothing more than a way to pass the time. He was bored.
Just like I was.
Yet—there was something none of us had ever foreseen.
His rage.
No—to be precise, my brother had always been angry. Always been unhappy with his life.
Why? Even the Root didn't have an answer for that.
But he controlled it. He never lashed out, never let it show.
Until now.
Until I made my move against his two girlfriends—the ones who had left for overseas, following their parents to a foreign land filled with better opportunities.
I didn't kill them.
I didn't even touch them.
I just… gave them happiness.
And yet—here we are.
He wasn't just angry. He was furious. And instead of demanding revenge, instead of trying to punish me, instead of doing anything predictable—
He told me to take their place.
To become his girlfriend.
To serve him.
Such an audacious demand should have been obliterated on the spot.
And yet…
I laughed.
Because I saw something in his eyes.
He knew my power.
He knew my existence was an anomaly, a force beyond human understanding.
He knew I could swat him away like an insect if I wanted to.
And yet, he dared to demand me like a madman.
So, I made my decision.
I accepted his request.
I thought he would treat me like his other girlfriends—a romantic dinner, sweet words, a proper date before taking things further.
But no.
He didn't.
There was no gentle romance, no soft whispers, no tender foreplay. Instead, he grabbed me, bent me over, and fucked me like a brute—right here, in this filthy outdoor spot, like I was nothing more than his to take.
My first time—my virginity—and he didn't give a single fuck.
No careful preparation, no hesitation—he skipped all formalities, slammed his cock inside me, and took what he wanted. My body stretched around him, unprepared, overwhelmed, but he didn't stop. He pounded into me without restraint, without mercy, thrusting again and again, using me until he was satisfied.
And when it was over?
No goodbye.
No kiss.
No words of comfort.
Just the sound of his zipper, his rough fingers brushing through my hair, and then—nothing. He left me there, used and dripping with his cum, offering not a single word before disappearing into the night.
My face darkened.
Something stirred inside me, something I didn't quite understand.
Was it anger?
Was it resentment?
Or was it something far worse—something I didn't want to admit?
I should have known the answer. It was right there, lingering at the edge of my mind.
But I refused to acknowledge it.
Because if I knew—if I truly understood—I'd lose the fun of this game.
So I played along.
And when we got home, he showed me just how serious he was.
The moment the door shut behind us, he ripped my clothes off, throwing me onto the bed before forcing my legs apart. His cock was already hard again, pressing against my soaked slit, still aching from before.
And then—he fucked me all night long.
He bent me over, his grip tight on my waist, his cock slamming into me from behind, filling me over and over again until my body shook from the sheer pleasure of it.
"Your pussy is so tight, Manaka," he growled, his voice dark, full of hunger. "It's the best one I've ever had."
My face darkened again.
He compared me to other girls.
I wanted to protest, to punish him, to make him pay for saying that. But before I could even open my mouth, he tightened his grip, driving into me even harder, hitting that spot, that perfect spot inside me that made my mind go blank.
I cried out—a sharp, helpless moan escaping my lips.
But it wasn't over.
It had only begun.
He flipped me onto my back, pinned me beneath him, and fucked me senseless. He kept me awake the entire night, dragging me across every inch of our room, taking me in the bed, in front of the mirror, even on the cold floor.
No place was left untouched.
No part of me was spared.
By the time dawn broke, my body ached, covered in sweat and cum, my voice hoarse from moaning his name over and over again.
And still—I knew this wasn't the end.
This was just the beginning.
I thought so—until my brother approached me.
And then, without hesitation, he kissed me.
Everything changed.
His lips pressed against mine, firm, demanding, claiming. My breath hitched, my body frozen—not from resistance, but from shock, from the flood of emotions that surged through me like wildfire.
"Do you feel it?" he murmured as he broke the kiss, his voice low, dangerous. His eyes—usually filled with nothing but arrogance—held something different. Something dark. Something real.
"The humiliation. The rage. The powerlessness of it all, sister."
He was looking at me with a gentle gaze, one that didn't belong on him, not after what he had just done.
He chuckled, fingers brushing my cheek. "Yes… that's how I've felt. That's how I've always felt."
He trailed his hand down, gripping my chin, forcing me to hold his gaze. "You think they don't matter? That they're just insignificant conquests to me? Fine, I won't deny it. They were never special. Never irreplaceable. But that's not the point."
His smirk widened as he leaned in, his breath hot against my lips.
"You took them from me, Manaka. You took what was supposed to be mine. So now, I'm just taking what I'm due."
And then—he kissed me again.
This time, it wasn't just demanding—it was aggressive, overpowering, consuming.
And worst of all?
I melted into it.
I should have resisted. Should have pushed him away, screamed, fought back. But I didn't.
I wanted more.
A hunger ignited inside me, an all-consuming desire—not to be possessed, but to possess him.
My grip tightened.
This time, I refused to be passive. I flipped him over, forcing him onto his back, my eyes dark with something primal as I mounted him, taking his hard, pulsing length deep inside my soaking wet pussy.
I gasped, stretching around him, feeling his throbbing heat filling me completely.
I rode him—taking control, taking him.
He looked almost surprised, but it only lasted a moment before my next move.
I rolled my hips, gripping his chest, pressing my fingers against his rapidly beating heart. I could feel the change in him, the shift in his very being, I had reshaped something fundamental inside him.
My power had changed him.
His heart wasn't human anymore—I had turned him into something stronger. Something more.
A dragon.
And then—he growled.
Something inside him snapped.
With raw, untamed strength, he flipped me onto my back, pinning me beneath him. I allowed it—I welcomed it.
"Yes, brother," I whispered, smirking up at him, my fingers tracing his jaw. "Let it flow. Let your anger consume you. Let your lust take over. Let your strength bloom."
His restraint shattered.
He slammed his cock into me without hesitation, driving into me deep, his grip bruising, his thrusts punishing.
This wasn't making love—this was conquest.
My brother had only one goal in mind—to claim me.
And I let him.
I moaned loudly, my arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back as he drove himself deeper, harder, over and over, filling me to the brim.
Each thrust sent shockwaves through my body, pushing me to the edge, making me cry out in pleasure.
There had never been anything as satisfying as this moment—never anything as perfect.
He was mine now.
Completely mine.