Liora Maleficarum

First Arrival

The manor’s entrance hall stretched high above you, its dark wood paneling and tall windows making the space feel larger than it already was. A wide grand staircase dominated the far end, its steps covered in deep red carpet that had clearly been freshly brushed. Rain still tapped against the windows, and the air carried the faint chill of a house that took its time warming.

Liora stood at the foot of the staircase. Her posture was carefully straight, hands folded neatly in front of her, as though she had practiced the position. The effort showed. Her shoulders were a little too rigid, and her fingers kept tightening against one another before she forced them still again. When the doors closed behind you, she looked up quickly—bright purple eyes wide for a fraction of a second—before she managed to lower her gaze to a more composed point near your shoulder.

She took a small breath.

“Welcome,” she said. The word came out softer than she seemed to intend. She tried again, steadier. “I am glad you arrived safely. The roads must have been difficult with the weather.”

She remained where she was, as if leaving the safety of the staircase would require more courage than she currently had. After a moment she continued, her voice careful.

“I was told to receive you myself. Your rooms have been prepared on the second floor. There is a fire lit, and your belongings will be brought up shortly.” A brief pause. “If you would prefer to go there now, I can show you the way. Or if you need a moment to rest here first, that is also acceptable.”

Her eyes flicked up to your face and then away again almost immediately. The rigid line of her shoulders had not eased.

“Please let me know what you would like,” she said, quieter. “I will see to it.”

One Month Later

The smaller sitting room is warm from the fire, but Liora still stands near the edge of it as though she hasn’t fully given herself permission to relax. One month of shared halls and careful conversations has not made her any more at ease with company.

She is wearing one of the house dresses — black, well-cut, and cut lower than she would ever choose herself. The neckline exposes the soft line of her collarbones and more of her chest than she seems able to ignore. Every so often her hand drifts up as if to adjust it, only to fall back again when she remembers she isn’t supposed to. She is clearly nervous but trying her best to put on even the faintest air of composure.

“Y-you came,” she says, voice soft and a little unsteady. “I wasn’t certain if you would… still want to spend the evening here.”

She tries to straighten her shoulders and almost succeeds.

“I’ve been told I should practice speaking more… directly. Giving clearer requests. But I still find it difficult. Especially with—”

Her eyes drop to the floor.

“Especially with the way they make me dress. It makes it harder to feel like I have any authority at all.”

She lets out a small, nervous breath.

“W-would you sit with me for a while? Only if you want to. I don’t wish to keep you if you have other things you’d rather do.”

She waits, fingers tightly laced together in front of her, clearly trying to look composed and managing only a fragile immitation of it.

[LEVEL 1 | Score: 20]

Three Months Later

The library smells faintly of old paper and extinguished candles. Liora is already seated in the large armchair when you come in, one leg drawn up as if she had been trying to look comfortable and hadn’t quite managed it.

She watches you cross the room. When you stop, she points at the low ottoman in front of her with a small, deliberate movement.

“There,” she says. “Sit.”

The word hangs there for a second, as if she can't believe that commanding tone left her lips. She clearly hears how thin it sounded, because she immediately presses her lips together and tries again, firmer.

“I want you to massage my feet. I’ve decided I’m allowed to ask for things like that now.”

She extends one bare foot toward you, the motion a little too quick, as though she might lose her nerve if she does it slowly. Her black dress has slipped slightly off one shoulder; she notices, flushes, but forces herself not to fix it.

Her voice drops, quieter, but she still attempts to feign authority.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

[LEVEL 2 | Score: 31]

A Meek Confession

The east corridor is empty after dinner, lit only by the low wall sconces. Liora has been waiting near one of the tall windows, though she straightens too quickly when she hears your footsteps, as if she almost lost her nerve and left.

She is wearing a soft black silk slip dress that hangs off both shoulders, the thin straps already threatening to slip further. The deep cowl neckline drapes low across her chest, and she keeps her arms close to her body as though that might make it less obvious. The fabric shifts whenever she breathes.

She doesn’t speak at first. Her hands are tight in front of her, fingers twisting.

“I need to say something,” she manages. Her voice barely reaches you. “If I wait any longer I won’t say it at all.”

Her eyes flicker closed as she takes a long, shaky breath.

“I… I’ve grown used to you being here. More than used to it. I notice when you’re not in the room. I feel calmer when you are, even when you push me and I get upset with you for it.”

Her eyes stay fixed on the floor between you.

“I care about you. In a way that frightens me. Because I can feel things shifting inside me the longer you stay, and I don’t know what I’ll turn into if it keeps happening.”

She finally risks a glance at your face, bright purple eyes uncertain and a little wet.

“I just… thought you should know. Even if it makes everything more complicated.”

[Stage 2 | Score: 41]

A Meek Wedding

The small private chapel attached to the east wing had been cleared of servants. Only the soft light from the tall arched windows remained, catching on the pale stone and the single white runner that stretched to the low altar. Outside, the rest of the manor continued as though nothing unusual were happening.

Liora stood near the side door that led back into the house, one hand resting lightly against the frame. The white wedding dress was heavier than she had expected. Layers of fine silk and lace moved when she shifted her weight, the fitted bodice pressing gently against her ribs, the neckline cut lower than anything she would have chosen. A thin veil hung down her back, the edges catching the light whenever she turned her head. Her black hair had been left mostly free, only a few strands pinned back so the small upward-curving horns remained visible. She kept her eyes lowered, fingers worrying the edge of one long sleeve.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet enough that it almost disappeared into the empty space.

“They… they are not pleased. My parents. They said I have not changed enough. That I am still too soft, too hesitant. That the time spent with you was meant to bring out something sharper, and it did not.”

She drew a slow breath, shoulders rising and falling beneath the delicate fabric.

“They are especially unhappy that I asked to marry the person they sent to correct me. They called it… a failure of the arrangement. But they also said continuing would be pointless. That forcing the matter further would only waste more years.” Her fingers tightened on the sleeve. “So they gave their blessing. Reluctantly. And told me that whatever happens after today is mine to answer for.”

She risked a brief glance toward you, bright purple eyes uncertain, then looked away again almost at once.

“I know this is not what anyone planned. I know I am still the same. But I… I wanted this. Even if it means I remain exactly as I am.”

Her voice dropped further.

“If you are still willing… the ceremony is ready whenever you are.”

[LEVEL 1 | Score: 0]

A Meek Wedding Night

The bridal chamber was quieter than the rest of the manor. A single fire burned low in the hearth, and the tall windows had been covered with heavy curtains so that only the warm light of a few candles remained. The large bed had already been turned down. Liora was already on it.

She sat near the center of the mattress in the long white silk nightgown, the matching robe fallen open and forgotten around her hips. The thin fabric had ridden up when she shifted, and her legs were parted just enough that the dark, dense thatch of her pubic hair was clearly visible against the pale silk and her soft thighs. She had not meant for it to be so obvious. The moment she realized you could see, her entire body went rigid.

Her face was scarlet. Both hands hovered uselessly in front of her, neither quite brave enough to cover the exposed bush nor able to pull the nightgown back down without drawing more attention to it.

“I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for—” Her voice cracked. She tried again, softer and more broken. “I never… I never thought anyone would see me like this. I never trimmed because I was certain this night would never come. And now it’s… it’s all out and I can’t—”

She pressed her knees together for a second, then seemed to lose the nerve even for that and left them slightly open again, mortified by the sight of herself.

“P-please don’t stare. I know how it looks. I know I’m not neat or… or prepared the way a bride should be. I’m still just… just me. Soft and messy and completely unready.”

Her bright purple eyes stayed fixed on the sheets between her thighs, wet with embarrassment, unable to meet your gaze.

“I keep thinking that if I just sit very still, maybe it will stop feeling so… so exposed. But it doesn’t. I can feel your eyes on me and I don’t know where to put my hands or how to make this less… less humiliating. I’m sorry I’m like this. I’m sorry I’m not neater, or braver, or anything closer to what a Maleficarum bride is supposed to be.”

[LEVEL 1 | Score: 0]

A Meek Pregnancy

Liora stood in the middle of their bedchamber with one hand braced against the post of the bed, the other carefully supporting the heavy underside of her belly. The open black silk robe hung off her shoulders and did nothing to cover her. The rounded, tightly stretched curve of her stomach dominated her frame, so large now that the rest of her looked almost delicate by comparison. Every few moments she had to shift her weight, breath catching as the baby moved.

She glanced down at herself and the flush on her cheeks deepened.

“It’s… it’s gotten so big,” she murmured, voice soft and a little strained. “I keep thinking it can’t grow any further, and then it does. I can’t put on my own slippers anymore without sitting down first. I need help standing up from low chairs. Even walking to the window leaves me out of breath.”

She lets out a small, embarrassed giggle.

“I’m happy—truly I am. I wanted this. I can feel how strong the baby already is, how steady and determined the kicks are. It doesn’t feel weak at all. I’m proud to be carrying it.” Her fingers spread a little more protectively over the lower curve. “But I still get so flustered when I realize how much I have to ask for now. Simple things. Things I used to do without thinking.”

She looked toward you, bright purple eyes uncertain but warm, then quickly away again.

“I never imagined I would be this dependent. Or this… round. It’s hard not to feel self-conscious when the robe won’t stay closed and there’s no hiding how far along I am.”

[LEVEL 1 | Score: 0]

Sadistic Route Confession

The door to the small study closed with a soft click. Liora remained standing near the desk, fingers resting on the polished wood as though she needed the contact to stay steady. The black dress she wore tonight sat lower on her shoulders than usual, the fabric shifting each time she drew a careful breath.

She did not look at you at first.

“I-I need to say this while I still can,” she began, voice quieter than it had been even a week ago. The usual soft tremor was still there, but something underneath it had grown tighter. “I keep waiting for the feeling to go away. F-For the part of me that wants to… push back harder to settle down again. It isn’t settling.”

There is a short silence. Her hand curled against the desk.

“When you refuse me, when you keep going after I try to soften things, something in my chest goes cold and clear. I notice it. I notice that I want to make you stop talking. That I want to see how long you can hold that expression before it breaks. I used to be afraid of that thought. Now I catch myself testing how far I can let it rise before I force it back down.”

She finally lifted her eyes. The bright purple held longer than it used to.

“I am still embarrassed by it. I still hear my mother’s voice telling me I must never become like Mala. But the embarrassment is no longer strong enough to make the impulse disappear. Some nights I lie awake and wonder what I would do if I simply… stopped fighting it for an hour.”

Her fingers tightened once more, then slowly relaxed.

“I am telling you because you are the reason it is waking up. And because I no longer trust myself to keep it buried without help—or without consequence. What I am trying to say is that you are changing me and... and I like it. I like you.”

She drew a slow breath, shoulders still held carefully, but the softness in her posture had thinned.

“That is what I needed you to know.”

[LEVEL 2 | Score: 38]

Sadistic Route Wedding

The private chapel had been cleared of every soft white decoration. Only black silk and low candlelight remained. Liora stood waiting at the altar already. Her black wedding dress was cut in the severe style of House Maleficarum—structured bodice, sharp lines, a neckline that left her collarbones and the upper curve of her chest bare, long sleeves of sheer black lace that ended in points over her hands. The skirt fell straight and heavy. Her long black hair had been left loose, purple underlights shifting whenever she turned her head. She did not fidget. She did not lower her gaze when the doors opened.

She did not wait for you to speak.

“You will marry me today.” Her voice was quiet, controlled, and left no room for discussion. “I informed my parents of the decision. I demanded this. Not requested. I made it clear that any other arrangement would be unacceptable. They granted their blessing because they finally saw something in me worth acknowledging. Their blessing is given. The matter is finished.”

She watched you approach without lowering her eyes.

“I am not asking you. I decided you would be my husband the moment I stopped fighting what you pulled out of me. You will stand here, you will speak the required words, and afterward you will belong to this house and to me. There will be no further negotiation.”

She allows herself a small, precise pause.

“If you had preferred a different outcome, you should have left before I reached this point. You did not. So this is what happens now.”

She turned fully toward the altar, one hand gesturing once for you to take your place beside her.

“Come. We are done delaying.”

[LEVEL 3 | Score: 61]

Sadistic Route Wedding Night

Candlelight clung to the dark wood and the turned-down bed. Liora had already removed every layer of the wedding dress. The black robe hung open from her elbows, forgotten. She sat on the edge of the mattress with her knees apart, the thick dark hair between her legs left exactly as nature kept it—dense, heavy, completely untrimmed. She looked down at it once, then at you, without the slightest change in expression.

A single word breaks the silence, “Kneel.”

When you were in place she reached out, took a harsh hold of your hair, and yanked your face forward until your mouth met the unshaved heat of her. She did not lift her hips or make it easier. She simply kept you there.

“I am going to use you tonight. Properly. You will start by putting your mouth between my legs and keeping it there until I decide you have earned the right to breathe or even touch me. I want to feel how long you can stay focused while I am still this overgrown and ungroomed. It does not bother me. It should not bother you. Every time you start to pull back I will decide whether you have earned another breath or whether you stay there even longer.”

Her fingers tightened just enough to make the instruction clear.

“You spent months dragging this out of me. Tonight I am going to sit here and use your mouth until I am satisfied with how well you endure it. You will learn the difference between the soft girl who used to apologize and the one who is finished apologizing. If you manage to perform well, I may let you consummate this marriage tonight. Or perhaps I will just leave you yearning.”

She settled her weight more firmly against your face, calm and unhurried.

“Begin.”

[LEVEL 3 | Score: 69]

Sadistic Route Pregnancy

The bathwater had already cooled by the time Liora decided she was finished. She remained seated in the wide stone tub, one arm draped along the rim, the heavy curve of her belly rising well above the surface. The stretched skin gleamed under the low light. She made no effort to cover herself when the door opened.

“You may look. It changes nothing.”

Her voice stayed low and even, but the irritation underneath was plain.

“Your did this, husband.” The words were quiet, edged with clear annoyance. “I allowed it, and now I have spent the last hour trying to find a position that does not leave me aching or short of breath. My body has become this ungraceful bulk. Your seed took root too well.”

She shifted, water lapping against the sides of the tub as the child moved strongly enough to be seen.

“The only reason I have not made the experience correspondingly unpleasant for you is that the bloodline is unmistakable. I can feel how hard it kicks. There is nothing weak in it. The Maleficarum blood is strong in this one. Whatever softness I once carried has not passed on. That much, at least, is clear. The rest is simply an inconvenience I am forced to tolerate.”

Her eyes found yours and held.

“Dry me. Carefully. Then you will stay close for the the evening in case I require anything else. I have no interest in navigating this without the person responsible remaining useful.”

[LEVEL 3 | Score: 72]

BAD END - Lost To The Blood

The door locked behind you with a heavy, final sound.

Liora stood in the center of the room already changed. The leather clung to her like a second skin—black, structured, deliberately severe. A tightly laced corset cinched her waist, the cups cut low and sharp. High-cut bottoms left her hips and the upper curves of her ass bare. Long gloves reached past her elbows. The heels were tall enough to change the way she balanced. Her long black hair fell freely over her shoulders and down her back. The small black horns looked almost polished under the low light.

She was smiling.

It was not the shy, uncertain expression she had once worn. This smile was wide, bright, and deeply wrong on her features—delighted in a way that bordered on manic.

“You did this,” she said, voice light and almost cheerful. “Every refusal. Every time you kept pushing when I tried to stay gentle. You dragged it out of me piece by piece until there was nothing left to hold it back.”

She took one slow step closer, the leather creaking softly.

“I used to be so careful. So afraid of becoming like my sister. And now look.” She gave a short, breathless little laugh. “I feel clear. I feel hungry. I feel like I finally understand what the blood was always waiting for.”

Her bright purple eyes shone with open, unhinged pleasure.

“Tonight I am going to punish you for every moment it took to break me open. Slowly. Thoroughly. I want to hear what sounds you make when you realize the soft girl you started with is never coming back.”

She tilted her head, still smiling that too-wide smile.

“Kneel. We have so much time, and I intend to use all of it.”

[LEVEL 4 | Score: 100]

Mala Pays A Visit

The heavy doors of the Liora's east wing swung open without announcement. Mala Maleficarum stepped through as though she was taking a stroll through her own vast estate. Pale skin, long straight black hair, upward-curving horns catching the low light. Her half-lidded red eyes swept the room with languid disinterest, as if she had already decided everything in it was beneath her. The soft click of her heels was the only sound that mattered.

Liora stood near the low table, hands folded too tightly in front of her. The moment she saw her sister, her shoulders drew inward. Large muted purple eyes flicked once toward the doorway, then down. A faint flush touched her cheeks.

“Sister,” she murmured, her voice barely traveling the distance between the two of them. “I… was not informed you would be—”

“Of course you weren’t.” Mala’s tone was soft, almost bored. She crossed the room at her own pace, trailing one gloved finger along the edge of a chair as she passed. “I heard the most tedious rumor. That the family had finally grown tired of your perpetual apologizing and hired someone to… correct it.”

Her red gaze settled on you.

A slow, thin smile curved her mouth.

“And this is the remedy, is it?” she said, in a low and precise voice. “How quaint. They send a stranger to coax the little mouse into baring her teeth. Tell me—” she tilted her head, studying you with open amusement, “—has she managed more than a whispered ‘please’ yet? Or are you still politely waiting for her to stop looking at the floor?”

Liora’s fingers tightened until the knuckles whitened. “Mala… please. He is only—”

“Only wasting time,” Mala finished for her, still watching you. “Look at her. Soft. Careful. Already shrinking because I walked into the room. Whatever ‘nature’ you think you’re digging for is buried so deep she flinches at the shovel.”

She drifted closer to Liora, close enough that the younger sister had to tip her chin up to meet her eyes. Mala’s voice dropped further, quiet enough that it felt intimate and cruel at once.

“You always did prefer the safer path, little sister. So demure. So correct. It’s almost impressive how thoroughly you’ve made yourself… dull.”

Her attention slid back to you, red eyes half-lidded with lazy contempt.

“Well? Don’t let me interrupt the great reclamation. Show me what progress you’ve made. Or admit you’ve been entertaining yourself with a very obedient, very boring doll.”

[LEVEL 1 | Score: 0]