Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives

Warlock Ch 352. Pleasant Morning

The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of Damian's bedroom, casting soft golden streaks across the floor. The air smelled of lingering warmth—of sweat, and something uniquely theirs. The room was quiet except for the slow, steady breathing of the two women curled up beside him.

Damian lay there, blinking at the ceiling, his body still pleasantly heavy from the night before. Not just from the intimacy, though that had been incredible—no, it was something deeper, something he wasn't sure how to put into words.

His gaze drifted downward, settling on Evelyn and Victoria. They were tangled up against him, their bare skin warm against his own. Victoria had an arm draped lazily over his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her soft breaths tickling his skin. Evelyn was curled against his other side, her long hair spilling across his arm, her fingers still loosely gripping his wrist, as if afraid he might disappear.

Damian's throat tightened.

'They're here. With me.'

A slow exhale left his lips. Carefully, so as not to wake them, he raised a hand and brushed a few stray strands of hair from Victoria's face. She shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent before settling back into sleep.

Evelyn's grip on his wrist tightened ever so slightly.

His chest ached in a way he wasn't used to.

Damian swallowed. "Thank you," he whispered.

Neither of them stirred. They didn't need to. The words weren't meant for them to hear.

With practiced movements, he slipped out of bed, pulling the blanket over their bare bodies. The air outside the covers was cool against his skin. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, stretching his sore muscles before padding towards the bathroom.

The floor was cold beneath his feet, the stone sleek and smooth. The massive tub in the corner was already filled, steam curling in lazy tendrils above the water's surface—Cassius's servant, no doubt, had arranged it. Damian slipped in, the heat enveloping him immediately.

For a few moments, he just sat there, head resting against the edge of the tub, eyes closed.

His mind replayed the events of the night before—not just the pleasure, but the way they had touched him, held him, seen him. It was strange.

He was used to being desired. He wasn't used to being cherished. The thought lingered, heavy, even as he finished washing up.

Once he was dried and dressed, he made his way downstairs. The estate was quiet at this hour, the usual bustling energy of servants not yet in full swing. The faint scent of polished wood and lingering incense filled the halls, but the kitchen was different.

The moment he stepped inside, the familiar scent of herbs and spices greeted him, mingling with the faintest traces of last night's meal. The kitchen was massive—designed more for a full staff than for one person, but that didn't matter.

He was going to cook.

Last night, they had devoured his cooking, even Evelyn—who was usually so refined—had moaned around a scoop of stew, her eyes filled with something dangerously close to worship.

He smirked at the memory.

Yeah. He was definitely cooking again.

Damian rolled up his sleeves, surveying his options. Eggs. Bread. Meat. He could work with that.

He cracked a few eggs into a bowl, whisking them with practiced ease. He wasn't the type to cook often, but he did enjoy it. It was different from combat. There were no enemies, no strategies, no blood. Just ingredients coming together to make something good.

As the eggs hit the pan, the soft sizzle filled the kitchen, and for a moment, he let himself enjoy the simplicity of it.

The scent of butter sizzling in the pan filled the kitchen, rich and warm, curling through the air and seeping into the very walls of the manor. Damian stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, flipping a thick slice of Moonshadow Brioche—a soft, golden bread infused with midnight honey and a touch of mana-infused cinnamon. As it crisped in the pan, the magic in the honey reacted to the heat, releasing a faint, star-like shimmer across the surface.

He smirked slightly as he watched the glow fade. That was new.

Next, he moved on to the Sylvanberry Compote, a deep purple jam-like mixture made from berries harvested under fae moonlight. Sweet with a tangy aftertaste, they were known to mildly replenish stamina and sharpen focus, making them perfect for groggy mornings. He spooned the warm compote over the toasted brioche, letting the juices soak into the crisp edges.

On the side, a small pot of Stormroot Brew—a dark, robust tea made from stormroot bark—bubbled gently. It had a sharp, almost electrifying scent, rumored to jolt the body awake faster than a shock spell.

A batch of Sun-kissed Omelets was next. Damian had whisked fresh eggs with Emberfruit slices, a rare ingredient that gave off a gentle heat when eaten. The warmth wasn't just for flavor—it subtly boosted circulation, making it a favorite among warriors before a long day of training. As the omelets cooked, they filled the kitchen with a subtly spicy-sweet aroma.

And for the final touch—Misty Vale Cream, a thick, velvety spread made from enchanted valley milk, churned with a hint of vanilla and powdered fae sugar. It was known to settle the nerves and soothe magic depletion. He scooped a generous dollop onto a plate, watching it melt slightly from the warmth of the freshly baked brioche.

The whole kitchen smelled like a feast of magic and warmth.

As he plated the food, a familiar voice groaned from behind.

"…What the hell are you doing?"

Cassius stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his usually pristine appearance a little messy from his morning routine. There was a faint scorch mark on his sleeve—probably from a misfired barrier spell—and his hair was still damp, evidence that he'd actually watered the garden despite, well… everything. Bet he used his [Telekinesis] again.

Damian glanced over his shoulder. "Cooking."

Cassius snorted, stepping into the kitchen. "Yeah, I can see that. But why? We have servants for that."

Damian shrugged, flipping another slice of brioche. "Felt like it."

Cassius sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Let me guess. This is about last night?"