Seven Sins System Chapter 829. I Smell Angelic Trace
Seven Sins System Chapter 829. I Smell Angelic Trace
I appeared in my office.
Yep.
Not the gate yet.
Because before I jumped back into another potential soul-eating nightmare, I needed to handle something important.
My puppets.
Or more specifically…
The mortals stupid enough to mimic me. Pretend to be me. Dress like me. Talk like me. Act like Wrath itself.
If they wanted to copy my life that badly, then fine.
I gave them the full experience.
Work.
A lot of work.
I walked through the massive office slowly while infernal screens floated around me, showing reports from all over Wrath territory. Punishment sectors. Soul transport. Riot suppression. Torture efficiency indexes.
The usual.
And there they were.
My “chosen followers.”
Some sat behind desks.
Some sorted soul documents.
Some carried chains heavier than their own bodies.
Some processed endless paperwork under infernal firelight.
One mortal looked like he was about to collapse face-first into a mountain of forms.
I watched him twitch weakly.
Pathetic.
It hadn’t even been a month.
One month.
That’s all.
And some already looked ready to die from overwork.
I crossed my arms.
“You wanted to be me,” I muttered coldly.
So congratulations.
Now you get my schedule.
Day.
Night.
No sleep.
No peace.
No emotional stability.
One puppet noticed me immediately and stood up so fast his chair exploded backward.
“A— Auh!”
His voice cracked.
Another one nearly cried.
A third one whimpered.
They should be emotionless. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t feel. But I guess the work was too much for them.
I ignored all of them.
Focus.
I wasn’t here for them.
I was here for Ivy.
My beloved secretary.
The only competent being in this palace besides me.
And… She wasn’t here.
I frowned slightly.
That was strange.
I glanced at the infernal clock.
Morning.
Right.
She was probably still asleep.
Fair.
Especially after handling my workload while I was in the mortal realm pretending not to emotionally bond with angels.
I sighed softly and teleported again.
Straight into Wrath Palace.
The palace materialized around me in dark crimson stone and endless infernal architecture. Huge halls. Black pillars. Massive windows overlooking lava rivers and distant screaming mountains.
Ah.
Comforting.
I walked through the corridors slowly.
Servants immediately bowed when they saw me.
Some nearly tripped over themselves.
One demon dropped an entire tray of molten tea.
Classic.
I ignored them and continued toward Ivy’s room.
It had been a while since I’d been here.
Too long.
Which became very obvious the second I opened the door.
I stopped.
Completely stopped.
“…Oh.”
Her room was…
Creepy.
Not horror creepy.
Worse.
Obsessed creepy.
My eyes slowly moved across the walls.
Photos.
Portraits.
Paintings.
Sketches.
Of me.
Everywhere.
Me in devil form.
Me sitting on my throne.
Me working.
Me bathing…?
WHY DID THAT EXIST???
Me sleeping.
Me fighting.
Me smiling while torturing souls.
Me crushing rebellion leaders fifty years ago.
Me during infernal competitions.
One massive portrait literally captured the moment I broke an opponent’s jaw during a tournament.
Another one showed me covered in blood while six tentacles spread behind me dramatically.
The lighting in the painting was disturbingly good.
“I have so many stalkers,” I whispered.
Then I looked toward the bed.
And there she was.
Ivy.
Sleeping peacefully.
Long hair messy across the pillow.
Wearing sexy sleepwear.
And hugging….
I physically froze.
A body pillow.
With my full-body print on it.
Not normal print either.
Detailed.
Very detailed.
And the six tentacles?
Made from some weird jelly-like material so they could actually move slightly.
Indigo.
Purple-ish.
Soft-looking.
One wrapped around her waist while she slept.
I stared.
Long.
Hard.
“I’m going to increase my therapy budget after completing this mission.”
I slowly walked toward the bed while trying very hard not to think about the fact someone engineered tentacle body pillows of me.
I leaned slightly closer.
“Ivy,” I muttered.
No reaction.
“Ivy.”
Still nothing.
I sighed.
Then poked her forehead with a tentacle.
Her eyes immediately snapped open.
Sharp.
Alert.
Then she saw me.
And her entire expression melted instantly.
“Your Highness!”
Before I could react, she grabbed me.
Actually grabbed me.
And pulled me directly onto the bed.
I hit the mattress with a grunt while she wrapped herself around me like an emotional octopus.
“I missed you,” she mumbled immediately against my chest. “So much.”
Okay.
Yeah.
That did something dangerous to my chest again.
I awkwardly patted her head.
“There there?”
She tightened her hold.
“No.”
“…Okay.”
I forgot how clingy Ivy became after stress.
And apparently managing Wrath Palace without me counted as severe emotional damage.
She buried her face deeper into my shirt.
“Your puppets are terrible.”
“I know.”
“They are starting to cry lately. One tried to fake his death.”
I blinked.
“…Creative.”
“I threw him back into work.”
“That’s my girl.”
She looked up immediately, eyes glowing slightly.
Praise.
Right.
I forgot.
Succubi secretaries are terrifying when emotionally attached.
She finally sat up slightly while still straddling my lap.
“You smell different.”
Immediately dangerous territory.
I kept my face calm.
“Different how?”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Soft.”
Absolutely not.
I rejected that accusation spiritually.
But Ivy kept staring at me from my lap with the expression of a woman who knew me far too well.
Then her nose twitched slightly.
“Also…” she muttered slowly.
Dangerous pause.
“I smell angelic trace.”
I closed my eyes for half a second.
Wrath demons could smell fear.
Greed demons could smell contracts.
And Ivy?
Ivy could apparently smell emotional development.
She narrowed her eyes harder.
“Did you sleep with her again?”
I sighed dramatically. “She came to me.”
Ivy immediately pouted.
Actually pouted.
The terrifying secretary of Wrath Palace, the woman who once sent thirty-seven souls back into the punishment queue because their paperwork formatting annoyed her, now looked personally offended.
“See?” she complained softly. “Even she gets more fun time than me.”
That tone.
That clingy tone.
“I want you.”
And before I could answer, she grabbed my hand and pressed it directly against her chest over the thin fabric of her sleepwear.
Warm.
Soft.
Barely covered.
“C’mon,” she whispered lazily. “I’m still fresh.”
Her fingers slid over mine slowly.
“Give me a reward a bit.”
Then she smiled sweetly.
“I’m a good girl.”