Seven Sins System Chapter 637. Unhealthy Obsession

Seven Sins System Chapter 637. Unhealthy Obsession

She didn’t answer.

She just… stood there. Silent. Watching me. Not with judgment. Not even curiosity. But with that deep, quiet knowing that only she ever seemed to carry.

But I wasn’t done.

I stepped forward.

Not fast. Not forceful.

Just… close.

Her breath caught, but she didn’t back away.

“But more than anything…” I said softly, “I want you.”

The words left my lips before I could overthink them.

No jokes. No smirking mask. No demon sass layered underneath.

Just raw truth.

“I mean it,” I added, voice steadier this time. “You. Not just the body. Not the title. You.”

Puriel’s eyes widened, her lips parting—but no sound came out.

I kept going.

“I have to say it now because… I’m afraid.”

Her brows furrowed, that faint glow returning to her cheeks.

“Afraid?” she echoed.

I nodded once, exhaling like I was peeling open my chest. “Yeah. Afraid they’ll lock you up.”

That snapped her out of her daze. “Lock me—what?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Your mom. The council, or maybe the whole glowing bureaucracy. Once they find out what we did, what we shared—they might treat you like a corrupted artifact.”

She blinked at me. “You think they’ll punish me for…?”

“You’re the goddess of chastity, Puriel,” I said, voice tightening. “That title isn’t just poetic. It’s a leash. And you know how realms work. How they cling to roles. To balance. They might think you’re tainted.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t deny it.

And that silence? That silence said everything.

But after a moment, she muttered, “My mom won’t know.”

That wasn’t reassuring.

“Yeah, well…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “The Love Goddess kinda already does.”

“She sensed it. Not because I reek of sex or anything, but because…”

I didn’t speak, watching her carefully.

Her eyes dropped to the floor. Her fingers curled in.

And she whispered, “…Because she knows I’ve fallen for you.”

“…Oh,” I said.

Smooth.

Real smooth.

But it hit. Harder than anything I’d expected.

“Okay,” I managed, blinking. “That’s… new. For me.”

She peeked up at me through her lashes, clearly nervous. “Is that… bad?”

“What? No—no, it’s not bad!” I coughed. “Just—uh—surprising. I mean, I’m a devil. I’m not exactly used to detecting love unless it’s a side effect of lust. And even then, it’s usually more like… unhealthy obsession, y’know?”

Her lips quirked slightly. “That checks out.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, running both hands down my face. “Anyway… that love goddess—she’s okay with this?”

Puriel looked away again, but her voice was steadier now. “She didn’t seem upset. Actually… I think she looked happy. Supportive, even?”

“…Supportive,” I repeated slowly. “Okay. That’s suspicious.”

She snorted.

And I was glad for it. That little laugh. That glint in her eye. It broke through the cloud of divine politics and cosmic pressure for just a second.

But I wasn’t done unraveling this thread.

“So…” I said, pacing a bit now, eyes distant. “She’s fine with it. And this candle I found—this scent—it wasn’t just infernal. It had her realm’s notes in it. That harmony we both felt. Like light wrapped around something… darker.”

“You think she’s involved?” Puriel asked.

“I think she might be the one behind all this,” I admitted. “The candle was in Lust Palace. Buried with Asmodeus’s dad’s old belongings. And the scent? It was like a memory. Personal. Intentional.”

Puriel’s brows drew together. “So… Asmo’s dad is involved?”

“Maybe,” I said. “He’s long dead. Can’t prove it. But while I was sorting through the vault, I found a painting. An oil piece. Surreal, romantic. Of the Light Realm.”

She tilted her head, curious now. “He painted the Light Realm?”

I nodded slowly. “He painted himself in it. Standing on a cliff. Looking out over the sky. Not conquering. Not mocking. Just… longing.”

Puriel went quiet again.

I looked at her.

“Have you ever heard anything? From the Love Goddess? About… a demon? Someone she might’ve loved?”

She bit her lip again, hesitating.

“I’m not sure,” she finally said. “But… now that you mention it… I did feel something.”

“Something?”

“A trace. A lingering demonic energy. Faint. Hidden. Like someone tried to scrub it clean—but couldn’t fully erase it.”

My breath caught.

She stared at me.

“…Wait,” she said slowly. “Why are you suddenly asking about all this?”

I looked her dead in the eye.

“Because I think Asmodeus’s father fell in love with the Goddess of Love.”

Her breath stopped.

Then she spoke, softly. “You think… she loved him back?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe she never admitted it. But something happened between them. Something big. Enough to leave marks. Traces. Memories that bled into relics. Into realms.”

Puriel sat down on my bed, slowly. Thoughtfully.

“This could explain so much,” she murmured. “Why she’s always been distant. Maybe she’s trying to protect you from going down the same path,” she said.

“Or maybe,” I countered, eyes lifting to hers, “she’s guiding you toward it.”

That shut her up.

Hard.

Because if that was true… if the Goddess of Love was secretly supporting a divine-demonic union—encouraging us—

Then the entire balance between realms was about to shift.

And not in a subtle way.

“…So,” I said, voice dry, “on a scale of one to ‘prepare the interdimensional fallout shelters,’ how bad is this?”

Puriel blinked. Then she actually smiled.

And it was the cutest, most dangerous thing I’d ever seen.

“Depends,” she said. “Are you planning to kiss me again?”

I blinked. Then tilted my head, a slow smirk crawling in.

“…Maybe.”

I let the silence linger before adding, voice low and shameless,

“I can ruin you if you want. Just say the word.”

Yeah, that was basically challenging fate to a duel with a hard-on—but come on, how could I say no to sex when it came from my partner?

“Then I’d say we’re already at a solid seven.”

I stepped forward again.

She didn’t back away.

And when I leaned in—close enough to feel the hitch in her breath, the tension in the air rippling like the prelude to divine chaos—she whispered, “I’m not scared.”

“I am,” I admitted. Quiet. Honest.

But I kissed her anyway.

And the second our lips touched—

It hit.

That scent.