The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 1 (M)

Even in the deep darkness, the woman’s body gleamed with a radiant whiteness.

As the man holding her delicate frame in his arms thrust upward in a single motion, her back, as slender as a flower stem, arched weakly. Her silver hair, damp with sweat, swayed in rhythm with their movements, revealing glimpses of her skin marked by vivid red traces.

“Hngh, ha… Hugh, please…”

A voice trembling with ecstasy sounded pitifully. Hugo, who had been burying his face into her nape, savoring the sweet scent of her skin, lifted his head.

“Yes, Master.”

“P-please, stop now… ah!”

“Stop? When you’re clinging to me as if you’ll tear me apart if I try to leave.”

Without warning, Hugo thrust his hips again, drawing a sharp moan from Giselle. The lewd words, mingled with his heated breath, brought tears to the edges of her long lashes. Hugo let out a faint laugh as he licked the bruised, peach-tinted corners of her eyes.

Their entwined bodies moved in sync, and the point of their union was slick with white froth. Though her insides, having reached their peak several times already, were soft and yielding, the unrelenting intrusion remained overwhelming in its size and hardness.

Giselle whispered, her tone a mixture of pleading and reproach.

“Then… please, just hurry… ah!”

“You can’t do anything without me, can you, Master?”

“Hugo, Hugh, ah… ugh!”

The whispered words quickly turned into cries of ecstasy. As Hugo thrust deeply, her pale thighs trembled with spasms. Her eyes, distorted by pleasure, grew hazy, and breathless moans spilled uncontrollably from her parted lips.

“Ah, ah! H-Hugo, ah, haaah!”

A fiery heat surged within her abdomen. The tight walls of her core clenched around the member that had reached all the way to the back of her womb. Hugo, unable to hold back any longer, embraced Giselle tightly and released his excitement deep inside her.

Her fragmented moans gradually gave way to quiet sobs. Even though his long release had ended, the hardness inside her remained unyielding. Hugo moved his hips slowly, murmuring in Giselle’s ear.

“What should we do, Master? Once again, you’ve craved your disciple and taken my seed.”

“S-sorry… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright. I love everything about you. But others won’t forgive us for this immoral act, will they?”

Giselle’s face turned deathly pale, fear spreading across her tear-streaked features. Though she had committed no true wrongdoing, the witch’s brand had left her ostracized and hunted, planting a deep-seated terror of people in her heart.

The shame and guilt of having desired her own disciple, coupled with the sharp condemnation she knew would follow, dragged her into a pit of despair. Gasping for air, Giselle’s breaths came shallow and quick. Hugo, his crooked smile lingering, gently stroked her back in a soothing gesture.

“When we return to the castle, everyone will ask about you, Master. They might even delve into your memories to see what happened while we were away. Then, they’ll know everything—how you raised us, what you taught us, and….”

“Hngh!”

Hugo’s hand slid down her waist, gliding toward the perineum. The area was so thoroughly drenched that it seemed his fingers might slip inside at any moment. The unfamiliar sensation made Giselle instinctively cling to Hugo, holding onto him as if seeking stability. Pleased by her reaction, Hugo teased her further, letting his probing fingers graze before continuing.

“Even the way you cling to me, crying while holding me inside, just like this.”

“N-no, that’s… that’s not…”

“See, Master? You say it’s wrong, yet you tried to send me away. Why would you do that?”

Giselle couldn’t say a word. She simply couldn’t.

Not that anyone would dare to delve into Hugo’s decade-long memories, but she wasn’t in a state to consider such things. Overwhelmed, she could only let her tears flow endlessly. Hugo leaned closer, whispering softly into her ear once more.

“So don’t ever talk about letting me go again.”

“I-I won’t…”

“If it’s not me or Ian, then who will fill you, Master?”

“Hngh!”

The hand that had been gripping her hips suddenly moved to the front. As her swollen clitoris was rubbed rapidly, Giselle instinctively tried to pull her hips back, her flushed face shaking up and down in desperate denial.

“Ah, ahh… I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I won’t say that again, ever. So, please…”

Her overstretched entrance alternated between tightening and loosening. Drugged and no longer in her right mind, Giselle had already forgotten what she had been saying. Her bright, golden eyes, once sharp, narrowed faintly as the member buried deep inside her began to swell further.

“Hugo, faster… more…”

Giselle clumsily moved her hips, urging Hugo on. In response, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to lift her face, and devoured her lips as if he intended to consume her whole. As he savored the sweet taste of her fluids and stoked her pleasure further, Giselle instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, their tongues intertwining.

“Hah… mmm…!”

Hugo knew full well that her every action was driven not by genuine desire, but by the influence of the drug. Yet, he didn’t care. He never had.

In the deepening darkness of the night, Hugo grinned like a child who had finally gotten their hands on the toy they had always wanted.

***

“Giselle.”

A gentle voice reached her ears. Having endured Hugo’s relentless attention through the night, Giselle had only managed to fall asleep at dawn. Now, she curled up, half-asleep, like a child resisting waking. A soft chuckle followed, and a warm hand caressed her cheek.

“Come on, it’s time to get up. The sun is already high in the sky.”

“Ian?”

At the sound of the familiar voice urging her again, Giselle cracked her eyes open and mumbled in a daze. Her gaze was unfocused, her mind still clouded, whether from lingering sleep or the effects of the drug. The tip of her tongue peeked out through her slightly parted lips. Ian’s eyes lingered there briefly before he smiled warmly.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“…Hugo? Where’s Hugo?”

“The first thing you do when you wake up is ask about him?” Ian arched a brow, feigning a hurt expression, though he understood. After all, it had been an especially intense night.

“I-Ian, I… yesterday, I… again…”

“It’s alright,” Ian reassured her gently. “Both my brother and I know you’re not doing it on purpose.”

“…”

“Come now, let me help clean you up. My brother always leaves such marks behind, doesn’t he?”

Her pale cheeks flushed crimson at his words. At the mention of “marks,” memories of the previous night resurfaced unbidden, and her body reacted involuntarily. Her lower half, still feeling as if something were inside her, twitched, and the remnants of the night began to trickle out.

The vivid sensation sent Giselle bolting upright in alarm. She turned to see Ian dipping a cloth into a basin of warm water, shaking her head frantically.

“No, no! I’ll do it myself. I can’t—how could I ask you to…”

“You don’t have to push yourself,” Ian interrupted softly. “We’re your disciples, after all.”

His kind words struck her like a blow, and Giselle froze.

Disciples. Yes, that’s what they were. The students she had cherished, nurtured, and raised like her own—both as a mother and an older sister.

“Ah… ugh…”

Tears welled in her eyes as her emotions threatened to spill over.

Her hands, which had been hovering uncertainly in the air, fell limply to her sides. Overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of despair and anguish, Giselle couldn’t hold back her tears any longer.

Seeing her so fragile and pitiful, Ian sighed deeply, his heart aching. He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms, as he desperately tried to suppress the storm of emotions surging within him. If he didn’t, he feared he might lose control—pull her into his arms, run his tongue over her trembling form, and give in to his desire.

But controlling his body’s reaction was another matter entirely. His lower half, painfully swollen, throbbed insistently. Afraid she might notice, Ian quickly turned his back to her, brushing his hand over the bulge in his pants as he spoke.

“I’ll come back in a bit, Giselle. Make sure to clean yourself properly.”

“I-Ian…”

Her trembling voice stopped him for a moment, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he tightened his jaw, forcing himself to walk away before his resolve crumbled.

Giselle watched Ian’s retreating back, her lips trembling as if to call out to him. Her kind and gentle disciple, however, left the room in brisk strides, seemingly deaf to her unspoken plea.

Left alone in the now-silent room, Giselle let out a quiet sob. Once, she wouldn’t have hesitated to nod in agreement if Ian had offered to help her clean up. But now, things had changed.

She believed, without a doubt, that the brothers were forcing a relationship upon her against her will. Because of that, she resolved not to lean on their kindness any longer, no matter how gentle they appeared.

Her swollen lips pressed tightly together as tears spilled down her cheeks. Gazing at the white remnants clinging to her thighs, Giselle broke down again, unable to stifle her cries. Struggling to wipe herself clean with the soft cloth and warm water Ian had left behind, she continued to weep, her shoulders trembling with every sob.

Meanwhile, Ian, having stepped outside, exhaled a shaky breath he had been holding. Slipping his hand into his pants, he gripped himself tightly. Through the barely ajar door, he could hear Giselle’s faint cries, and his lower body tensed reflexively.

His arousal had reached the point of pain, and as he squeezed his painfully engorged member, its tip pulsed and released thick streams of fluid, uncontrollably spilling over his hand.

If he’d been any later, he’d have shoved his cock into Giselle’s lips and wiggled his hips like a horny dog. Right now, as he had last night.

The brothers had taken turns spending the night with her, one waiting for her sweet moans to die down and the other ramming his cock into her sleeping mouth.

She couldn’t swallow more than half of it with her mouth, unlike her pussy, which was so receptive it could open up to the inside of her womb, but she couldn’t help but get excited as she instinctively licked her lips and rolled her tongue over it.

“……Haa.”

Recalling the searing heat that felt as though it might melt him, he gave a few shakes, and soon his hand was hot and damp. Ian, having completely shut the door, brushed his hand off with a detached expression. The traces of the act disappeared cleanly, and at the same time, Hugo approached without a sound.

Born on the same day, though with a slight gap in time, the brothers shared little resemblance in appearance or personality, except for their pitch-black hair as dark as their inner thoughts. Even their eye colors were different—Hugo had slitted, yellow eyes like those of a reptile, while Ian possessed deep, cool blue eyes. Yet the shadowy desires that occasionally surfaced in their gazes were strikingly similar.

Looking at him, Ian smiled a picture-perfect smile and said:

“Good work, brother. Did you handle it properly?”

“Roughly. But what’s with that smile? It’s unsettling.”

“Do you really not know why I’m asking? I told you to wait a few days before finishing inside. Giselle’s body is reverting to that of an ordinary woman. Are you seriously trying to get her pregnant?”

The smile that had lingered on his face faded as irritation spread, causing the small mole beneath his right eye to twitch slightly upward. Hugo, glancing briefly at the room still leaking faint sobs—though quieter than when the door had first opened—furrowed his brow.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? If her belly swells, she might stop entertaining such insolent thoughts.”

“You always go too far. You don’t have to go to such extremes; Giselle can’t escape from us anyway. It’s already unbearable sharing her with you, but if a child gets involved…”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that,” he replied with a faint note of realization.

“It’s a relief that her womb isn’t functioning properly yet, but this was something we both agreed on. I always feel like I’m the one getting the short end of the stick.”

Hugo said nothing as he watched Ian grumble with a sigh. He couldn’t argue; he knew Ian wasn’t entirely wrong. That acknowledgment only soured his mood further, fueling Ian’s complaints as he began recounting past grievances one by one.

As their voices grew louder, Giselle realized the brothers were conversing outside the door. However, she couldn’t make out the details of their words. Struggling to suppress her tears, she stared anxiously at the door with a vacant expression, tension etched across her face.

When the sobs from inside the room ceased, Hugo and Ian naturally wrapped up their discussion. Without hesitation, they opened the door, and Giselle instinctively gasped, curling into herself.

Ian, masking his true nature behind a placid smile, feigned ignorance as he asked, “It looks like you cleaned yourself up, but why haven’t you put on any clothes?”

“They’re all torn. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t wear them,” Hugo interjected matter-of-factly.

“…”

Giselle bit her lip and lowered her head. Her pale, snow-white body was flushed only up to her neck, creating an oddly alluring contrast. The shame of knowing it was Ian who had shredded her clothes weighed heavily on her.

Ian stepped into the dressing room and retrieved a white robe. Draping it gently over Giselle’s shoulders, he studied her with a deliberately concerned expression.

“Are you hurt anywhere? I heard sounds until dawn and was worried.”

“I-I’m fine,” Giselle stammered, her voice trembling slightly.

Giselle could barely lift her head as she mumbled her response. Even the nape of her neck, visible through her hair, was flushed red, causing Ian to lick his dry lips. He was holding back with all his might, but the growing tightness in his lower body made it increasingly difficult.

Hugo clicked his tongue as he watched his younger brother, who always pretended to be virtuous and proper in front of their mentor, let his eyes glisten with desire. He wasn’t surprised—he already knew Ian was like a snake. What irked him was the realization that tonight, he would have to leave Giselle to Ian.

Though he had indulged in her all night, no amount of holding her or pouring himself into her seemed to satisfy him. Even a dog in heat, Hugo thought, would be more restrained than they were.

Ian’s hand moved gently down Giselle’s back, an action that seemed innocent at first glance. Yet, to her body, hypersensitive from the substances she had been given, his touch felt sharp and overwhelming. Her small toes curled and flexed in response.

“I-Ian, stop, it’s fine. Just let me put on some clothes…” she stammered, her voice trembling.

“Giselle, am I making you uncomfortable?” Ian asked, his tone soft yet piercing.

“What? No! Uncomfortable? Of course not,” she quickly replied, shaking her head.

“Then why do you keep saying you’re fine and refusing to lift your head? Is it me? Or… are you uncomfortable because of him?” Ian asked, his voice laced with feigned concern.

“…”

Even Hugo, standing by the door, noticed Giselle trembling. However, he didn’t interject. Both brothers understood that Giselle didn’t truly despise them or feel physical revulsion. Her distress stemmed from an unbearable sense of guilt directed at herself. Yet, they deliberately pressed her buttons, provoking her emotions, tightening their hold on her.

They also knew that by the end of tonight, her focus of unease would shift—from Hugo to Ian.

Despite having spent an entire night tangled with her, their fervor was insatiable, closer to primal mating than love. Even now, Giselle struggled to reconcile herself with reality.

Ian turned slightly, meeting Hugo’s gaze with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, mouthing the words: Get lost. At this, Hugo straightened his relaxed posture, moving with deliberate ease toward Giselle, who was still staring at the ground. Offering her a disarmingly warm smile, he spoke softly:

“Master.”

“…Y-Yes?”

“Today, the knights attempted to venture deeper into the forest. They came saying they’d heard you promised to send Ian and me back but hadn’t heard anything since.”

At his quiet words, Giselle lifted her head in a panic. Though her ears were still flushed red, her clouded eyes wavered with fear and guilt. Hugo took her trembling hand and intertwined their fingers, a calculated gesture.

“I managed to persuade them to leave for now, but what are we to do? They’ll surely return.”

Though his tone was gentle, his words carried unmistakable reproach—why did you do something so unnecessary?

Even in her gradually declining state, Giselle wasn’t so unaware as to miss his pointed criticism. Tears welled in her eyes, and finally, she called out to them:

“H-Hugo, Ian…”

“It’s all right, Master,” Hugo reassured her. “Neither Ian nor I will leave your side. You need us as much as we need you.”

“…”

“But I do worry about your honor being tarnished. Perhaps it would be better if… we left this place for somewhere else.”

“L-Leave…?” Giselle repeated, blinking blankly. She had resigned herself to the belief that she would live—and die—trapped within this forest. The idea of leaving was a chaos of unfamiliarity that threw her thoughts into disarray.

Ian, who had been silently observing, furrowed his brows. So this was the game Hugo wanted to play—how insufferable. Still, Ian reasoned, it wasn’t entirely untrue. He didn’t like being interrupted either, though he doubted it would last long enough to matter.

Suppressing his irritation, Ian followed Hugo’s lead, speaking up. “I agree, Giselle. The forest may shield us from intruders, but spirits are fickle creatures. They no longer lend you their strength… just as they’ve already begun to abandon you.”

His voice dropped to a murmur, the words cutting deep. Giselle clutched the bedsheet tightly in her fists, her knuckles white.

She had once been a witch attuned to the voices of spirits, wielding their power at will. Now, she had been forsaken by the very forest she was bound to, unable to hear or feel anything. It was a rejection that tore at the foundation of her identity. Without Hugo and Ian, she feared she might have already descended into madness.

Should I… leave?

A witch abandoned even by the spirits she had lived with all her life. Whether she stayed or left, she knew Hugo and Ian would remain by her side. She had made enough poor choices for one lifetime.

Suppressing the storm of confusion, fear, guilt, and sorrow within her, Giselle nodded slowly.

***