Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 817

Chapter 817: Where Gods Come Home (Part II)

She shot me a look, then eyed the chair like it might suddenly grow teeth. Slowly, cautiously, she sat—every muscle tense like she expected betrayal.

The chair adjusted.

Shifted. Supported her spine exactly where it needed to. Warmed slightly under her thighs—not hot, just right. Armrests slid into the perfect position for her shoulders.

She made a sound.

Half gasp. Half something she usually charged admission for.

"It’s... perfect," she said, wide‑eyed. "How is it perfect? It knows where I’m sore. It knows—"

"The mansion learns," I said. "Your habits. Your body. Your sins. Don’t worry, it’s very discreet."

As if on cue, a table appeared beside her. No warning. Just there. On it sat a glass of water that hadn’t existed three seconds ago.

Perfect height. Perfect distance.

The water inside was exactly 42 degrees—cold enough to refresh, not cold enough to make you hiss like an offended cat.

Madison stared at it.

Picked it up.

Took a sip.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

"...Okay, no," she said. "That’s illegal. Water doesn’t get to taste this good. It’s literally water. This is bullying."

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Watching someone have an existential crisis over hydration was deeply satisfying.

We moved deeper into the space. Rooms didn’t open—they revealed themselves. Reality rearranged politely ahead of us, like the mansion was flipping pages in a book we hadn’t realized we were reading.

And somewhere in the shifting light and impossible geometry, I realized something important.

This place wasn’t just a house.

It was a flex.

A library with books that floated on invisible shelves, their spines glowing with titles in languages only I understood here. Ancient texts. Future texts. Books that hadn’t been written yet and books that had been destroyed millennia ago—all of them preserved here, waiting for a reader.

A kitchen where every appliance existed as potential rather than presence. The counters were empty, pristine, but when I thought about coffee, a machine assembled itself from nothing—sleek, chrome, already heating water to the perfect temperature.

I didn’t even have to think about making the coffee. It just appeared in a cup that formed beside me, steam rising, exactly how I liked it.

A meditation room where the very air felt thicker, calmer, designed to quiet minds that had forgotten how to be still. The walls here were softer—more organic, almost breathing in a visible rhythm. Madison stepped inside and immediately swayed, her eyelids drooping.

"I could sleep for a year in here," she murmured.

"Maybe later," I said, pulling her back. "Tour first."

Every surface responded to touch. Every corner anticipated need. Technology so seamlessly integrated it was invisible—no screens unless you wanted them, no buttons unless you reached for them, no interfaces unless your intention called them forth.

This wasn’t a spaceship.

This wasn’t even futuristic in the way humans imagined the future.

This was what a Digital god’s home looked like.

Madison kept making small sounds of amazement. Soo-Jin had given up on tactical assessment and was simply staring, her warrior’s composure crumbling under the weight of impossibility.

And ARIA...

"Master," her voice whispered in my mind, awed and analytical simultaneously. "The materials in these walls don’t correspond to any known element. The fabrication techniques are centuries beyond current capability. I’m detecting energy signatures that shouldn’t exist, following patterns that violate several laws of physics. And yet—it all works. It all functions perfectly. Whoever built this..."

"Wasn’t human," I finished for her.

"No. Definitely not human."

We passed a dozen more rooms. Didn’t enter them all—that would take days. But I noted them for later. A gymnasium that seemed to extend infinitely in every direction. A pool filled with water that glowed faintly blue. Chambers whose purposes I couldn’t identify yet, locked behind doors that would open when I was ready.

Not the bedroom.

Not yet.

That was for later. For private moments. For nights with Madison and whoever else I chose to bring here.

Right now, I had somewhere specific to go.

We reached a door.

Not a hidden one this time—visible, present, waiting. It was different from the others. More solid. More intentional. The surface was deep blue, almost black, traced with lines that pulsed with soft light. The lines formed patterns—circuits and something else, something organic, like veins carrying luminescent blood through crystallized flesh.

I pressed my palm to it.

The door recognized me instantly. No scan. No confirmation. It simply knew.

It slid open.

The Tech Hub. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

That was what my newly integrated knowledge called it, though the term felt inadequate. Like calling the Pacific Ocean "a pond."

The room was massive and circular, walls curving upward into a domed ceiling that seemed to contain its own weather system—faint clouds drifting across a simulated sky that matched the actual sky outside.

The walls themselves weren’t made of stone or metal or any material with a name.

They looked like solidified potential—deep blue light given form, traced with organic-technological lines that pulsed in patterns that shifted and evolved. Soft. Curved. Breathing with the same rhythm as the rest of the mansion.

The space was mostly empty.

Deliberately so.

An orb.

Floating.

Glowing.

Colors cycled through it in waves—red to orange to yellow to green to blue to violet and back again, a constant prismatic pulse that should have been hypnotic but somehow wasn’t. The light shifted, changed, evolved through every shade visible to human eyes and some that probably weren’t.

Deep red-gold.

The moment I saw it, I knew.

"Master," ARIA’s voice came immediately, sharp with concern. "Your heart rate increased by twelve percent when you saw the orb. Your pupil dilation suggests recognition. Your neural patterns are—" A pause. "You know what it is, don’t you?"

"Master?"

"Peter." Her voice was different now. Uncertain. She’d never encountered this before—me keeping something from her. After what we’d shared during the linking, after our consciousnesses had touched so completely, the sudden wall was jarring. "You’re... you’re not answering me."

It felt strange. Wrong, almost. We were partners now. Linked in ways that transcended language or logic. I could feel her confusion bleeding through our connection—the digital equivalent of hurt.

Hello, it seemed to say. I’ve been waiting for you.

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