Selene sat high upon the towering throne of the lord's hall. Over the years, she had seen many newly appointed chieftains come and go.

  To be honest, very few of them had ever piqued her interest. She'd seen her fair share of overconfident fools asking for permission to establish a village—most of whom simply sought to exploit her authority for personal gain. The rest, slightly more self-aware, came bearing burdens or limitations, seeking a place to survive rather than thrive.

  But the one standing before her now was different.

  The serpentine man who called himself Gregor had triggered a peculiar instinct in her from the very moment he stepped into the hall. The soul aura he emanated bore a strange resemblance to that of a certain thick-skinned black werewolf. Of course, not even lords of Selene's caliber had the ability to sense soul energy across vast distances.

  But Selene knew—she had chosen that black werewolf personally as her Demon Lord. The succubus binding between them formed a tight magical link—one that was more than a constraint. It was a tether, invisible and unbreakable. And given the clear difference in power, the initiative was always in her hands.

  Her narrow, fox-like eyes narrowed further, a shimmer of irresistible charm dancing within them.

  The power of her succubus race wasn't just meant to beguile; it could pierce illusions and reveal the truth behind appearances. As she focused on the kneeling serpentfolk, her surprise grew. He was indeed of the serpent race. That much was real.

  Yet doubt lingered. If not for the undeniable thread of the binding oath, she would've questioned her own senses.

  A clone technique? Selene murmured inwardly, her eyes flickering with a trace of complexity.

  "Rise."

  "Yes, Lady Selene!" Gregor stood promptly, completely unaware that his identity had already been guessed.

  "State your request." Selene's tone was cold, but curiosity stirred within her. She genuinely wanted to know what this black werewolf's puppet intended to do.

  Selene herself possessed three phantom clones and was well-versed in their uses. She knew with certainty that everything this serpentfolk said and did would be perfectly visible to the real Draven, far away in the south.

  That made things complicated. With her power, one charm spell would be enough to make Gregor spill the truth—but doing so would alert Draven.

  So instead, she restrained her curiosity and watched carefully. She wanted to see what game this black wolf was playing.

  "Gregor wishes to serve Lady Selene. I humbly request your permission." Gregor lowered his head, his voice firm, though a trace of tension and unease was difficult to hide.

  Selene raised an eyebrow. That kind of statement didn't align with what she knew of Draven, who was always calculating and self-serving. Could it be that he had sensed something… and sent a clone to test the waters?

  Her feelings about Draven were… complicated. As her chosen Demon Lord, his status was irrevocable. He was fated to be her mate.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  And she hated that fate. Not because she looked down on him, but because she had spent her entire life fighting against the destiny of the succubus race—forever bound to stronger beings. She was the only one of her kind who despised the succubus oath.

  Yet fate had a cruel sense of irony. That very oath had once saved her life… and it had become the thorn lodged in her soul. The bond between her and Draven was inescapable, no matter how fiercely she resisted.

  So on one hand, she hoped he would grow quickly—strong enough to support her. On the other, she feared that his strength might one day eclipse hers. Night after night, she found herself suffocating under the weight of his growing presence, unable to sleep. That fear had become a nightmare she could never escape.

  Now, he had sent a clone to her. Did he suspect the existence of the succubus binding? Was he probing for the truth?

  A flicker of displeasure and restrained fury flashed in her eyes. But she dared not act recklessly. The lessons of the past were too painful. She wouldn't risk repeating them.

  Refuse him? Drive him away? Wouldn't that only prove she was afraid?

  Selene, proud and unyielding all her life, would never allow herself to show even the slightest sign of retreat. What stood before her was merely a projection of a newly ascended chieftain— hardly worth mentioning.

  She sat tall upon her lofty throne, back straight, her gaze once again sharp and resolute. Selene's long, narrow phoenix eyes locked onto the serpentkin kneeling before her, as if trying to unearth some hidden truth within his gaze.

  She parted her crimson lips slightly and spoke in a calm, firm voice:

  "I grant your request, Serpentkin Gregor. In what way do you wish to serve me?"

  Gregor's previously tense expression finally eased. The prolonged silence had worn on him, and though his heart was still uneasy, he clenched his fists again and pressed one against his chest as he answered with conviction:

  "Gregor wishes to join Lady Selene's patrol unit and assist in surveying the territory."

  This was no impulsive decision— it was one carefully weighed by both Gregor and his true body. As a newly appointed chieftain, he had already relinquished his right to establish a village or claim territory, leaving him with very limited paths forward.

  Unless one possessed a unique gift like Cedric the Harpy, most had only a few roles to choose from— guard, warrior, patrol, or hunter.

  In theory, the guard role would have offered the best cover for Gregor's reconnaissance, but it came with strict background checks. As a serpentkin hailing from the Godwar Hills— a tribe deemed rebellious— there was no way he would pass such scrutiny.

  The lord's manor would never permit a serpentkin of a traitorous lineage to serve as Selene's personal guard. As for the combat forces, they were bound by rigid structure and regulations— too inflexible for his goals.

  The hunter corps operated far outside the bounds of Selene City, which directly conflicted with Draven's arrangements. That left only the patrol unit— a barely acceptable option.

  Selene's patrol units held a unique role, somewhat akin to law enforcement— though they wielded significantly more authority. Unless overridden by a direct order from the lord's manor, they were granted broad autonomy while surveying the land. They could move freely within and beyond the city, investigating any suspicious activity.

  Back when unrest broke out among the serpentkin, the manor had purged several patrol leaders, even secretly executing a few members who had been swayed by the Crimson Serpent faction. So while Gregor's sudden request to join the patrol unit was unexpected, it wasn't entirely unreasonable.

  But that, in itself, made Selene feel uneasy.

  Wasn't he here to seek an audience with me directly?

  The fleeting thought brought a strange mix of relief and irritation. Her shifting emotions surprised even herself— she had always been composed.

  Still, she ultimately nodded her approval. Handing Gregor a patrol insignia, she ordered him to report to Lydia.

  As Gregor departed, Selene rested her chin lightly on her hand, her face lost in thought. Once he vanished from her sight, she gestured silently.

  A shadow flickered across the chamber and knelt before her.

  "Follow him. Report back immediately if you notice anything unusual."

  "Yes." The shadow stood and slipped away silently.

  Gregor remained oblivious. Having just received official permission, he followed the guard cheerfully, ready to report to Lydia.

  Serving Selene was never without reward. Aside from an annual offering, those in service were also provided with all necessary equipment fitting their duties— a residence, weapons, mount, subordinates— everything arranged in advance.