Seven Sins System Chapter 619. Why Does Everything in Here Have Nipples?
Seven Sins System Chapter 619. Why Does Everything in Here Have Nipples?
“Welcome,” he said with a grand flourish, “to the Sanctum of Secrets.”
“I already regret this.”
The chamber inside was massive. Way bigger than I expected. Low lighting. Velvet drapes. Shelves upon shelves of relics, scrolls, trinkets… and statues.
Dear Demon gods. The statues.
“Why does everything in here have nipples?” I asked out loud.
Asmo didn’t even blink. “Because it’s authentic. The man had an aesthetic.”
“That aesthetic is horny cryptkeeper.”
He just beamed like I’d complimented him. “I know, right?”
I groaned and floated a crystal orb off the nearest shelf with my Telekinesis. My tentacles helped too, sorting through scrolls and lifting vases without actually touching them.
One of them found a mask—silver and gold, shaped like a screaming face with heart-shaped pupils.
I tilted my head. “This cursed?”
“Only if you wear it while confessing your deepest fear,” Asmo said casually, already rummaging through a chest full of silk blindfolds and jars of suspicious glitter.
“What?”
“I said nothing.”
I sighed and moved deeper in, letting my tentacles do most of the heavy lifting. One of them pulled open a drawer full of what looked like dried petals.
[Lust-Based Floral Residue – 82% degraded]
I scanned it briefly.
Nothing.
Just a normal pleasure-bloom. Common alchemical ingredient for aphrodisiacs. No divine signature.
Another drawer. Another dead end.
Meanwhile, Asmo looked like a kid on his birthday.
“Look at this!” he said, holding up what looked like a whip made entirely of enchanted lace. “I forgot about this one. Dad used to call it the Thread of Suggestion.”
“Yeah? I suggest you put it back before I snap it in half.”
He pouted. “You’re no fun.”
I flicked a dusty tome off the shelf with Telekinesis and flipped through it mid-air. Pages of poetry. Erotic, of course. Some surprisingly well-written lines about thighs and destiny. Nothing about divine ingredients.
My tentacle tapped against a sealed cabinet. The lock glowed faintly with old runes.
[Analyze]
[Result: Lock Sigil – Lust King Variant v3 – Requires Essence Key or Bloodline Signature]
“Asmo,” I called. “Come open this.”
He jogged over, pressed his hand to the rune. It glowed pink and let out a breathy sigh. The cabinet creaked open like it had been waiting to be touched for centuries. Gross.
Inside?
Perfume bottles.
Dozens.
All unlabeled.
Asmo’s eyes lit up. “This… this was his personal mix collection.”
“Finally. Something useful?”
He reached for one, popped the cork, sniffed.
Then immediately sneezed so hard he dropped it.
“Okay,” he wheezed, “maybe not that one.”
I floated the next bottle toward me with my Telekinesis and carefully wafted the scent toward one nostril.
[Analyzing...]
[Scent Base: Lust Petal, Draconic Musk, Distilled Emotion – Rage Variant (Diluted)]
[Divine Component: None Detected]
Damn. Close, but not the one.
Bottle after bottle.
Tentacle-assisted sniffing. Magical wafting. At least one cursed bottle that made a mirror moan seductively at me until I shattered it.
Still nothing.
Thirty minutes in, my patience was running thin.
Asmo, on the other hand, was in his element—holding up lingerie pieces like they were artifacts from a war museum.
“This was stitched from silk harvested during the First Lust Eclipse. Do you know how rare that is?”
“I will turn this room into ash.”
“You always say that,” he grinned.
Because I meant it.
Another drawer. Another scroll. My tentacle poked a hidden latch—clever design. The shelf rotated.
Behind it? A painting.
Of Asmo’s father.
Not posing. Not grinning. Just sitting. Alone. Staring off at a horizon that didn’t exist in this realm.
I stared at it.
He looked… tired.
Asmo noticed. Walked over slowly. His smile faded.
“He never looked like that to me,” he murmured. “He was always laughing. Commanding. Lust incarnate. I didn’t think he even knew how to sit still.”
We both stared.
“Is that… a memory painting?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Asmo said. “He had a few. Locked in visual spells. Captured moments he wanted to remember. Or hide.”
I studied the frame.
No inscription. No scent marker.
But something about it gnawed at me. The way his father sat—hands clenched. Jaw tight.
There was regret in that image.
And maybe—maybe—a reason why this scent, this ripple, had suddenly resurfaced now.
But the painting wasn’t going to spill its secrets. Not yet.
I exhaled and turned away.
“We’re not finding it here,” I muttered.
Asmo gave a small nod. “I thought maybe…” He trailed off. “Yeah.”
“Your dad didn’t leave the answers in his toys,” I said. “If this scent ties back to him… it’s something deeper. Something he didn’t want anyone to know.”
“You think he hid it outside the palace?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe… he didn’t trust even himself.”
Asmo blinked. “You saying it scared him?”
“I’m saying it changed him,” I said. “And I don’t think he liked who he became afterward.”
Asmo glanced back at the painting one last time, then pulled the curtain over it.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Now I’m starting to miss him. That’s your fault.”
“Don’t get sentimental,” I said. My voice was flat, but my thoughts were spinning.
‘I’ve got ten hours left.’
We were about to head out, when I paused. Something tugged at the back of my mind.
“Wait a second.”
Asmo turned, raising a brow. “What now? Did one of the statues wink at you again?”
I ignored him and walked back toward the painting, pulling the curtain. Then I stared hard at the canvas.
Yeah. At first glance, the painting was nothing. Just a moody portrait of Asmo’s old man being weirdly contemplative. No magical glow. No secret glyphs or riddles.
But behind him—faint but there—was the horizon.
And that horizon…
My gut clenched.
I’d seen that skyline. The smooth stretch of clouds that shimmered gold like wet silk. The faint spires in the distance, all glowing too brightly to be natural. The air that looked too still to be real, like it was holding its breath forever.
That wasn’t from the mortal realm nor our realm.
That… was the Light Realm.