The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 17

Those moments made them happy.

For a time, they had wondered if things could stay this way. The tension within them had eased, and even the suffocating, possessive obsession that had coiled around their hearts had quieted. The pure affection that filled them now was far more satisfying than the slimy desires they’d once indulged in, and it had been enough to make them forget reality.

But now, they were determined. They would bind Giselle so tightly she could never entertain such foolish thoughts again. They’d etch unforgettable pleasure into her body, and if it led to her truly bearing their child, then so be it.

As Ian climbed the staircase, imagining his cruel possessiveness becoming reality, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Hugo, walking beside him, halted as well, frowning.

“What is it?”

“…Hugo, do you see that?”

Ian’s blue eyes, filled with uncharacteristic confusion, were fixed on something. Hugo followed his gaze, narrowing his eyes. In the dim hallway, a faint but distinct shape shimmered in the air, its form wavering like a mirage.

“A spirit?”

The word slipped from Hugo’s lips without thought, and Ian nodded in agreement.

In the forest, this being had been full of energy, its presence vivid and undeniable. But now, it was almost entirely drained, translucent as it wandered through the mansion aimlessly.

“Why is it here? Did you bring it?”

“Of course not. Do you know how hard I worked to cut these things off from Giselle? It must’ve followed her all the way from the forest.”

The spirit had been the one closest to Giselle, lending her its strength for the longest time. It had no name, nor exceptional intelligence, but it seemed to instinctively sense the danger posed by the brothers, refusing to respond to them.

Yet, even outside its natural domain, for it to have weakened this much was unusual. Ian had initially intended to ignore it, knowing it would soon dissipate on its own. But just as he was about to dismiss it entirely, the spirit’s faint voice resonated in his mind.

[Giselle.]

“…”

[Dan-ger. Es-cape.]

“Ah.”

[Gi… Giselle. Herbs… dan-ger. Food, tea… dan-ger. Escape?]

“It was you.”

[Gi… se…—]

Before the spirit could finish speaking Giselle’s name, Ian pressed his fingers against its translucent form as though crushing an insect. The shimmering figure dissolved into the air, its presence gone in an instant. Though there was no sound, Hugo could sense the spirit’s disappearance and asked,

“You got rid of it?”

“That spirit had been sending energy to Giselle and trying to warn her. That’s why she suddenly took an interest in the herb room, which she’d ignored in the forest. Bit by bit, she was detoxifying herself.”

Though Giselle likely couldn’t hear the spirit’s voice directly, it must have created a sense of unease within her. How insolent of it to attempt such defiance.

Without exchanging another word, the brothers climbed the staircase and stopped in front of Giselle’s door. Frustration and unease churned inside them like a storm. But when they heard the faint sound of sobbing seeping through the tightly shut door, their bodies went cold. Without hesitation, they pushed the door open roughly.

“Giselle?”

“What’s wrong, Master?”

As soon as they stepped inside, a faint metallic scent hit their noses. Blood. They instantly realized what had happened.

“Hugo… Ian…”

Crossing the room to her bed, they found her clothes and sheets soaked in blood.

“It hurts… my stomach… it keeps…”

Her voice was pitiful, so weak it was almost a whisper. Ian covered his mouth with one hand, but a small, involuntary laugh escaped his lips. The spirit’s desperate resistance had amounted to nothing. They had succeeded.

Hugo climbed onto the bed beside Giselle and gently pulled her trembling body into his arms. She offered no resistance, too weak to fight back, and began crying as soon as she was embraced.

“Does it hurt a lot, Master?”

Unable to speak, Giselle simply nodded. Fear and psychological shock magnified her pain far beyond what she was physically feeling. It was the same phenomenon as when someone doesn’t notice a wound until they see it, and then the pain intensifies. Though she wasn’t normally sensitive to pain, the unknown cause of her bleeding and the sight of her own blood had driven her into terror.

Hugo stroked her flat stomach gently, letting out a soft chuckle.

“We were worried something serious had happened.”

“Well, something did happen,” Ian replied, crouching beside them. “Giselle, open your mouth. You’ll feel better after taking this medicine.”

Ian’s words were soothing as he caressed her cheek, and Giselle instinctively opened her mouth.

Questions swirled in her mind—why were they carrying medicine, what exactly was it, and why were they smiling? But those thoughts quickly faded as pills and liquid slid down her throat. She didn’t want to think anymore.

Moments later, the heavy pain in her abdomen began to fade, and her body grew limp. A sensation of floating, as though she were flying, mixed with a familiar hazy warmth.

Her tongue felt sluggish, her vision flickered between white and black, and her clenched fists loosened, falling limply at her sides.

“Master.”

“Mm?”

“Does it still hurt?”

“…No.”

Just moments ago, Giselle had been in unbearable pain, struggling even to breathe. But now, in a matter of minutes, the pain had vanished entirely, as if it had never been there. She lowered her head slightly, becoming acutely aware of the sensation of blood flowing from her through her core.

Slowly, deliberately, the blood stirred guilt and discomfort within her. The drugs they’d given her before had been adjusted to take hours before taking effect, specifically to allow her to experience guilt and regret as she succumbed. But tonight, such delays weren’t necessary.

“It’s… warm…” she murmured faintly.

“Where?” Hugo asked, his voice low.

“Down… down below…”

Ian lifted the hem of her blood-soaked garment, exposing her lower body. Despite being completely revealed, Giselle showed no reaction. Her pale thighs were streaked with blood, the vivid red staining her otherwise milky-white skin.

The sharp scent of iron filled the air, but oddly, it carried a faint sweetness that didn’t belong. Hugo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, an involuntary reaction to the scene before him.

“Shall I suck your pussy?”

The tip of his tongue traced the delicate curve of her ear before he whispered something low and sinister, his voice dripping with temptation. Though Giselle didn’t fully comprehend his words, she nodded as if entranced, unable to resist.

Her body, which had been leaning against his firm chest, was suddenly pushed down onto the bed, her vision spinning as she was laid out beneath him. Her thighs were pried open wide, and her damp underwear was stripped away in one smooth motion.

Exposed, her flesh gleamed a flushed, deep red—darker than the tender, vulnerable hue of her bare skin. Blood trickled steadily from her intimate folds, painting a vivid, unsettling contrast against her pale thighs.

Hugo draped Giselle’s legs over his shoulders, his tongue trailing a slow, deliberate path up her stained inner thigh. The motion was both sensual and possessive, his lips and tongue leaving a faint warmth in their wake. Watching this, Ian’s expression twisted in annoyance at having been outmaneuvered yet again.

Still, he didn’t seem too concerned. After all, starting tomorrow, Giselle would be his to take at any time, day or night.

With that thought, Ian leaned in, pressing his lips against Giselle’s. His mouth carried a liquid aphrodisiac, which he passed to her as their tongues intertwined in a wet, languid kiss.

As Hugo continued to stimulate the sensitive skin of her thighs, and Ian’s tongue danced with hers, Giselle’s lifeless, doll-like body began to show signs of life. Her pale cheeks flushed with a delicate pink, the color blooming like a soft petal.

Even though her sensations were dulled, the relentless pleasure they poured into her made it impossible not to react. Little by little, the sensations built up, layer upon layer, until the inevitable climax would arrive—and when it did, they knew she would never be able to forget it.

As Hugo brought his face closer to her vagina, the sharp scent of iron mixed with a faint sweetness filled the air, nearly overpowering. Even in the dimly lit room, his keen night vision allowed him to see everything—the subtle quivering of her entrance as it pulsed faintly, almost as if inviting him.

There was no thought of teasing or drawing it out in his mind. Without hesitation, Hugo thrust his tongue inside her, delving deep into the trembling opening. A rush of fluids met his tongue, warm and slick, as he sucked firmly, his actions deliberate and possessive.

“Ha… ahhh…”

Under normal circumstances, the intense sensation would have elicited piercing cries from Giselle, but now, all that escaped her lips were faint, shallow moans as her body trembled slightly. It made no difference to Hugo—whether she screamed, begged, or protested, he had no intention of stopping. His sole focus was on satisfying his own carnal desires.

Every bit of fluid from inside her, whether it was pooled within or freshly flowing, was greedily consumed by Hugo. The lewd, guttural sounds of his drinking echoed loudly in the room, shameless and unapologetic.

As his nose pressed against her clit, it twitched involuntarily, the small nub responding despite the dulled sensations. Meanwhile, her entrance, which had tightened over the past few days, gradually began to loosen, opening wider under the relentless pressure of his tongue and lips.

With no more blood flowing, Hugo withdrew his tongue, then began licking her thighs and folds clean with slow, deliberate strokes. Each time her entrance twitched and reddened, he would thrust his tongue back inside, exploring her deeply once more. He repeated this process several times until her slick entrance was left pristine, her flushed folds parting to reveal glistening, darkened depths.

Meanwhile, Ian, who had been preoccupied with biting Giselle’s lips and pulling at her tongue during a deep kiss, finally lifted his head and addressed Hugo.

“…Sometimes, I really wonder if you’re even human,” Ian muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Hugo glanced up, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk.

“If I weren’t human, Giselle would already be completely devoured by me. She’d be sobbing uncontrollably as I slit her open to see what’s inside.”

“Devour…? Devour?”

Giselle let out a dazed murmur, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Hugo, who had just sucked firmly on her swollen clit, rose to his feet, his voice casual as he responded.

“Yeah, Master. If no one else could see her, if no one else could have her, I’d keep her tucked neatly inside my stomach, so she’d be all mine, forever.”

“I-Inside…?” Giselle stammered faintly.

“I don’t want to eat him, though,” Hugo added, glancing at Ian with disinterest.

“…I’d hate it more, honestly. Giselle, do you want to be with me?” Ian asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her.

The thought of being with him was all she could grasp. Her mind was hazy, but that singular thought remained etched deeply in her consciousness. Slowly, she nodded.

Ian chuckled softly at her response.

“I thought so, too. I wanted to stay with you. But then why did you say those things before? Hm?”

“…?” Giselle blinked, confused.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ian said, waving off the question as if it were irrelevant. His gaze dropped to her trembling abdomen, and his voice lowered, tinged with an unsettling sweetness.

“Did you know? Now, we can make a baby inside this small belly of yours.”

“B-Baby?”

“Yes, a baby,” Ian replied, his tone light yet coaxing. “You’ve always longed for a normal life, haven’t you? Living like ordinary people—getting married, having a baby, building a family. If that’s what you want, Giselle, then let’s do it.”

Neither Hugo nor Ian particularly liked children. The frail and helpless nature of children disgusted them, as it mirrored aspects of themselves they despised. Yet, if Giselle desired it, they were more than willing to indulge in the charade of family life.

Of course, right now, she wasn’t in a position to do anything but nod in agreement to whatever they said.

Her rose-colored eyes, unfocused and hazy, flickered between Hugo and Ian. Her lips moved slightly, as though tasting the words she’d just heard, before she finally spoke.

“I… want it.”

The narrow yellow eyes and piercing blue ones shimmered with an eerie light. If she wanted it, then it had to be done. Tonight, tomorrow, or the day after—it didn’t matter when.

As Hugo had said to her that night, if her womb was filled to the brim enough times, eventually, it would bear fruit. Smiling boyishly, Hugo turned to Ian.

“Remember when I said one shared fuck was enough? I take that back.”

The thought of rubbing against another cock didn’t bother Hugo in the slightest. His desire to spill his seed inside Giselle and fill her to the point of making her belly swell far outweighed any sense of discomfort. After all, her soft, trembling body wouldn’t be satisfied with just one cock anyway.

As he slid his fingers along the parted seam of her folds, he gently spread them open, revealing her sensitive flesh. Though her entrance remained tight and closed, the mixture of blood and slick arousal pooling there suggested she would be more than ready for penetration.

Hugo’s hands moved impatiently, tearing at Giselle’s clothes with little care, the fabric ripping audibly under his grip. Beside him, Ian, who had been calmly untying the ribbon securing her bodice, scowled and muttered irritably.

“Clothes are meant to be taken off, not torn apart,” he said flatly.

“Too slow.”