The last of the curious villagers finally shuffled away from our doorstep, their hushed whispers fading into the air. I watched through the window as they cast lingering glances back at our house before disappearing around the corner.
"Well, that was quite the spectacle," Isabella said, as she stepped back inside as well.
Behind her, the mage Isadora glided through our doorway with an otherworldly grace. Even with her face hidden behind that mask, I could sense her keen eyes taking in every detail of our home—no, my creation.
The moment she crossed the threshold, I felt it—a subtle shift in the air, like the moment before lightning strikes. Isadora paused, her masked head tilting slightly as if listening to something only she could hear. Her gloved fingers traced the air in small, precise movements.
"Fascinating," she said. "I can feel the traces of magic everywhere—woven into the very foundation, threaded through the walls like silver veins." She moved deeper into the main room. "The magical essence here isn't just present; it's perfectly integrated. As if the house itself is alive."
While she was looking around, Isabella's face softened with genuine gratitude. "Thank you for supporting us out there, Lady Isadora. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't spoken up when you did. Some of those villagers... they were ready to cause trouble."
Rosaluna, who had been unusually quiet since we'd come inside, finally found her voice. "Yes, thank you, master. You didn't have to defend us, but you did. I was so scared they were going to... to do something terrible."
Isadora's attention shifted to me, and I could practically feel the weight of her scrutiny. "You accomplished all of this entirely on your own?" She asked, though something in her tone suggested she already knew the answer. "No guidance, no instruction, no assistance from any other practitioner?"
"Yes, completely alone," I confirmed.
She was quiet for a long moment, and I found myself wondering what thoughts were racing behind that facade. When she finally spoke, her voice had a note of awe that made even Lisa—who had been leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed—look up with interest.
"Extraordinary," Isadora breathed. "The structural integrity is flawless. The magical foundations are not just stable—they're elegant in their simplicity. To achieve this level of control over magical essence..." She paused, shaking her head slowly. "It requires an innate understanding that most mages spend decades trying to develop."
Rosaluna's eyes widened with pride. "Like you have, Master?"
"Like I have, yes," Isadora replied, and I caught what might have been a smile in her voice. "But your brother possesses the raw potential to surpass even my abilities, if he can accomplish something of this magnitude at such a young age." Her masked face turned toward me expectantly.
"Thirteen," I said simply.
I could sense Isadora's smile behind her mask as she turned to address Isabella. "You should be incredibly proud. Both of your children possess remarkable gifts. It's rare to find such exceptional talent in one family, let alone in a village this size."
Isabella's cheeks flushed pink with pride, but I could see the worry lines around her eyes hadn't disappeared. "Thank you, Lady Isadora."
The mage's attention returned to me, and this time there was something different in her posture—a subtle shift that spoke of understanding. "Your sister has told me quite a bit about you during our lessons," she said, moving closer to where I sat. "But I realize now that her descriptions, glowing as they were, fell far short of the reality. I foolishly thought she might be exaggerating due to sisterly affection."
"Thanks," I replied curtly.
Isadora settled herself in the chair next to mine and stared at me.
"You deliberately avoided me, didn't you?" She asked.
I felt every pair of eyes in the room turn toward me.
"I didn't know if I could trust you," I admitted. There was no point in lying—she'd already seen through my evasion.
"Harold?" Rosaluna's voice was small, surprised. "You mean all those times you were 'busy' when Master Isadora asked to meet you..."
"I had to be careful, big sister."
"He's absolutely right to be cautious," Isadora said, addressing the room but keeping her attention on me. "Not all mages are benevolent, I'm afraid. Some with less noble intentions would have seen a talent like yours as an opportunity to exploit. They might have kidnapped you, used you as a resource until you were drained dry, or worse..." Her voice took on a darker edge. "Cut you open while you were still breathing to discover the source of your abilities."
The blood drained from Isabella's face, and Rosaluna made a small sound of horror.
Lisa, who had been observing everything with her characteristic wariness, finally spoke up. "You seem to know an awful lot about these kinds of practices."
"Lisa," Rosaluna was dumbfounded.
Instead of taking offense, Isadora's chuckle returned. But when her gaze landed on Lisa, the sound died abruptly. She studied her for a long moment.
"This village," she murmured, almost to herself. "It truly does harbor an extraordinary concentration of exceptional talents."
Lisa merely shrugged, but I caught the subtle shift in her stance—she was ready to move if necessary. Few people knew about Lisa's particular gifts, but I'd been privileged to witness them firsthand over the years we'd known each other. If Isadora was half as perceptive as she seemed, she'd likely picked up on more than Lisa would be comfortable with.
The silence in the room stretched taut until Isadora suddenly rose from her chair. "I should take my leave," she announced, smoothing her robes.
"You're leaving already?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. "Just like that?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Were you expecting something different?"
I nodded slowly. "I thought you'd try to convince Lisa and me to attend your magic classes. Isn't that why you came here? To recruit us?"
Lisa's expression confirmed she'd been thinking along the same lines.
To our mutual surprise, Isadora chuckled again. "I make it a point never to coerce anyone into learning. Magic is not something that can be forced or rushed—it must be approached with genuine desire and respect." She paused at the door, her hand resting on the frame. "Though I will admit, I would very much like to teach both of you the deeper principles of magical theory and practice. You both possess rare gifts that could benefit from proper guidance."
She turned back to face us, and despite the mask, I could feel the sincerity in her gaze. "But I won't force you. If and when you decide you want to learn, my door will always be open to both of you. Until then, I'll respect your choice to remain independent."
With that, she stepped toward the door, but then paused and looked back at Isabella. "Take care of them," she said quietly. "They're more precious than you know."
As the door closed behind her, we were left in contemplative silence. Through the window, I watched her figure disappear into the distance.
Rosaluna looked between Lisa and me, her expression troubled. "Are you really not going to take lessons with her? She's an amazing teacher, and she knows so much..."
Lisa and I exchanged a look. There was something in her eyes—a question, perhaps, or a recognition of the choice we now faced.
Lisa didn't answer.
"I will think about it," I said finally, though I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince Rosaluna or myself.
The rest of the day, Mom, Rosaluna, and I kept ourselves busy taking care of errands and running courses in town. Since the fire had burned almost everything we owned, we had to start over from scratch. Sure, the new house was beautiful and well-built, but inside it was completely empty—no furniture, no tools, and most importantly, no food. So, we spent a lot of time going from place to place, buying everything we needed to make the house feel like home again.
Lisa came with us, too. Ever since her grandmother, Martha, passed away, she had been spending a lot more time around us. At first, she kept her distance, keeping to herself as she mourned. But I didn't let her isolate herself for long. I gently pushed her to come along, to be with us, to stay close—and eventually, she did.
Even Rosaluna, who used to act a little competitive around Lisa, had started to let her guard down. Their quiet rivalry faded, and now Lisa truly felt like part of the family. Over the past few years, that's exactly what she had become.
Most evenings, Lisa even joined us for dinner. Tonight was no different. After we came home with bags of fresh meat, vegetables, and other ingredients, Mom, Rosaluna, and Lisa prepared a full feast together. They worked as a team, moving around the kitchen like they'd done it a hundred times before.
I offered to help, of course, but they quickly turned me down, as I had literally built the house myself. That was more than enough, they said. So I didn't argue. I just leaned back in a chair near the window and used the free time to practice some magic.
I really needed new books. The ones I had before the fire were mostly already read from cover to cover, but they were gone now. I needed fresh knowledge—new spells, theories, anything. Especially because of my special ability: I could absorb knowledge and transform it into actual skills. For someone like me, learning wasn't just important—it was everything.
When dinner was ready, we all sat down together around the brand-new wooden table I had purchased. It was large, sturdy, and could easily seat six people. A huge improvement from the days when we had to huddle around a tiny table, sometimes even sitting on the floor just to fit.
The house smelled amazing—not musty or cramped like the old ones we used to live in. This new place had a wide, open living room, with tall windows that let in plenty of fresh air and sunlight. I had even made sure to build a big chimney to keep the smoke out and the warmth in. Now, the only scent in the air was the delicious aroma of freshly cooked food, made by three beautiful women who meant the world to me.
After the meal, Lisa stayed a little longer, chatting with us and laughing softly, before finally deciding it was time to head home. Mom gently insisted that she should stay the night—we had three bedrooms now, after all. She could sleep in Mom's room or even Rosaluna's. I didn't mind giving up my room for her either. But Lisa politely declined. She had spent the whole day with us, and as much as we were her second family, she still had responsibilities back at her own house.
After she left, we each headed to our rooms for the night.
When I entered mine, I let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the new bed—a soft cotton mattress tucked inside a smooth silk cover. We had bought it just that afternoon at the marketplace. It felt amazing to finally sleep on a real bed again. No comparison, really—not as luxurious as the king-sized beds I used to have back on Earth, in my many estates… but after years of sleeping on cold, hard ground?
Yeah. This was pure luxury.
I crossed my arms behind my head, staring at the ceiling. No more worrying about that ceiling collapsing on my head while I slept. I finally closed my eyes, ready for some proper rest, unlike last night's cold, hard ground. But about half an hour later, my eyes snapped open.
I glanced to my right. There was just a wall, but beyond it, I could sense it—my mom's room. And from the sounds, she was having another nightmare. Looks like my rest was going to be cut short. I smirked and pushed myself up.
Over the past few years, my relationship with my hot mom had been evolving, taking a significant leap, all in the shadows, of course. My mom wasn't fully aware of it yet, but she was definitely starting to piece things together. Our daytime conversations were normal, she acted normal, but nothing was truly normal, and she knew it deep down. She was doing her best convincing herself every days while speaking to me but she wouldn't stand long like that.
I slipped out of my room and stealthily entered hers. She was sprawled on the larger bed I'd bought, a bed big enough for me to easily lay beside her. Not yet, though. I walked over to the side of the bed, looking down at her.
Thirteen years since I first laid eyes on her face and she was still as hot and beautiful as ever. She barely seemed to have aged a day, but her body had certainly matured into something even more divine if I had say.
My hand reached out to her legs, sliding with the slow confidence of someone who'd done this a hundred times and still felt every nuance like the first. The fabric of her gown bunched slightly under my knuckles, and her breath caught—sharp, audible, like her body recognized me before her mind could catch up.
"Mmmh… ohhh…"
The subtle frown she wore had vanished, replaced with a softened mouth and eyelids lowering like velvet drapes. Her hips gave the smallest tilt—barely perceptible, but real—and her thigh twitched as my fingers trailed higher, easing beneath the edge of her gown. The warmth there struck me, her skin flushed and ready.
I slid upward slowly, knuckles brushing her inner thigh, fingers spreading warmth over the delicate skin as I traveled. The scent was already there—musk, sweet, definitely hers. I leaned in and inhaled, letting it tangle in my lungs.
"Hnnn~nn…"
Her body twitched and she turned her face slightly to the side, eyes half-lidded and her lip caught between her teeth. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her thighs were already parting for me, slowly, as if her muscles remembered this touch even better than she did. My fingers reached the soft curve of her panties, damp already, and when I touched her there—thumb brushing along the soaked fabric—her legs gave a tiny jerk.
"Aahh… ah-hn… mhhmnn~"
She couldn't keep still. Her toes curled beneath the silk of the bedsheets, digging into it like she needed something to anchor her. Her thighs rubbed against my forearm, slick with anticipation, the scent rising and thickening in the air between us.
"You get this wet just from a little touch, huh, Mom?" I breathed the words against her skin as I withdrew my hand slowly, my thumb gliding off the heat-soaked cloth. "You miss this tongue that much?"
Her only reply was the hard swallow of her throat and the way her hips jerked forward an inch toward me, involuntarily, as if pulled by gravity.
But I wasn't done teasing. Not yet.
I shifted forward and climbed up onto the bed in front of her, letting my hands slide over her calves. My palms cupped her ankles and gently pushed her legs apart, guiding them open with care and ownership. Her knees bent naturally, parting wider as I moved between them, kneeling down in the V of her thighs. I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the inside of one knee, then the other, lips dragging slightly as they met her skin.
She breathed in sharply, almost a gasp.
Her gown hiked up with each motion until it gathered at her waist, and there, beneath it, was what I knew intimately: the shape of her, the curves hidden under her soaked panties. My fingers reached for the waistband and gently tugged it aside, revealing her.
And there it was.
That familiar, beautiful pussy, crowned with silver-white hair, the mature, soft curls matted slightly from moisture. She hadn't changed. Not in the ways that mattered. Not in the ways I cared about.
I reached out and spread her gently, just enough to see the soft pink folds within. The labia gleamed, slick and humid, like her cunt had been waiting, aching, already pleading for the kiss it knew was coming. A drop of slick clung to the crease and slid downward, catching light like honey. I leaned in without hesitation, nuzzling through her bush, the soft hair brushing against my nose and cheeks.
My tongue found her.
And the moment it did—
"AaAAHHhnnn!"
She cried out, loud and raw, her thighs slamming shut against my head instinctively. But I was already wrapped around them, arms anchoring her thighs over my shoulders, locking us together. My mouth didn't stop, didn't hesitate, didn't even slow. I licked her like I was starving, tongue diving in deep, then flicking upward to dance along her clit, circling, teasing, flattening against it. Her scent filled my mouth and nose, warm and heady, intoxicating.
I let my fingers slide down her thighs again, tracing soft circles behind her knees, keeping her grounded as her body started to writhe.
"Nnnhhh—ah! Nnnf—s-slow, baby, ahh…!"
She trembled under me, breath erratic, her chest rising in uneven heaves. Her hands gripped the bedding above her head, twisting the sheets until her knuckles were white. I slipped my arms tighter around her legs, lifting them slightly to tilt her hips forward, deepening my angle.
I could feel her clit pulsing against my tongue, twitching. I sucked it gently, letting it swell in my mouth, then released and kissed the hood, slow and wet. Her hips rolled helplessly.
"T-this—hnnn—!"
She wasn't even trying to hide how fast it was coming. Years of this, of knowing every flick and rhythm that pushed her over—this wasn't a seduction. This was worship. This was ownership.
I slid one finger into her, slow, curling just right to find that spongy spot inside. Her cunt clenched hard around it, tight and slick, greedy. She bucked, nearly lifting off the mattress.
"AaHHHNN—YES—th-there, there—Harold!!"
Her cries echoed through the room, hips convulsing as I worked her with finger and tongue together. Wetness gushed around me, coating my chin, her thighs trembling and taut. I didn't stop. Not until I felt her legs lock and her whole body seize in orgasm.
Her scream peaked, tore through her throat, and then crumbled into a long, broken whimper as the tremors rolled through her.
I was now firmly erected. The only setback I've had since puberty was that. It was difficult to resist the urge to stick my dick in my mother's thirsty pussy.
I fought, though, because there was another method for me to express my pleasure—
"Harold?"
My smirk abruptly disappeared as my whole body froze.
When I looked back, I noticed Rosaluna standing there at the entrance of the door with one hand resting on it.