Reincarnated in a Eroge Game With a SSS-Rank Taming System-Chapter 31: Step - Bringing Breakfast to Her Personal Quarters

The next day came, and I still hadn’t seen Romie since last night. I thought there might have been a chance for her to come back to my room. Maybe she would have felt too aroused to leave, but it seemed that I had been wrong. She had managed to handle herself.

But today was a new day, meaning that I could continue my work with her, especially since I now had newfound motivation with this quest of mine. I couldn’t wait to open that Legendary Loot Box and also find out what kind of secret reward I would get.

On top of that, by gaining only one Affection Heart, I would manage to get access to Skill Sharer.

There was no doubt about it. Seducing her was necessary, and that’s why, first thing in the morning, I decided to go to her room, and in my hand was the breakfast prepared by Elowen’s chef.

I knocked peacefully three times and waited for her to open the door.

A weak, tired voice echoed from the other side of the door as it opened, revealing the beautiful Romie Elowen, who was barely wearing anything.

Actually, she was only wearing a large shirt as her top, which also managed to cover her bottom.

But with a quick glance at how messy her room was and her bed in particular, it seemed like she had had a busy, lonesome night.

She immediately blushed and quickly closed the door, gulping.

"L-Let me put on some clothes..."

The door opened again.

She had put on her red panties—the same ones from last night, slightly damp—and hastily buttoned up the shirt to at least pretend she was decent. But it clung to her in just the wrong ways, or perhaps all the right ones. Her skin glowed slightly, the remnants of heat still fresh in her cheeks, her collarbone peeking out from the drooping collar.

I tilted my head, smiling softly as I raised the tray.

"Good morning, Lady Romie," I said, stepping closer. "I thought you might be hungry. The chef outdid himself this morning."

She avoided my eyes but stepped aside, her voice still fragile. "You can... come in."

I did. Her room was a storm—sheets crumpled, a chair knocked over, the scent of perfume barely masking something more human, more raw. Her movements were stiff, cautious, like her body was remembering everything it had done the night before and punishing her for it with every twitch.

I placed the tray down on the desk beside her bed, taking in the sight of her as subtly as I could—though I knew she felt it. Her thighs pressed together slightly as she crossed her arms under her chest.

"I didn’t expect you to bring me breakfast personally," she said, a hint of forced formality threading her tone.

"I didn’t expect to see you so... relaxed this morning," I replied, my smile growing. "You look like you had a long night."

Her eyes widened a little. Her legs shifted again.

"I... I couldn’t sleep well," she said quickly. "Strange dreams."

I chuckled low, not unkindly. "Dreams can be strange when the mind’s restless. Or aroused."

She flinched at that.

I didn’t push. I sat down gently on the edge of her bed without asking. I noticed the pillows were still dented, as if she’d spent hours clutching them. Her eyes briefly flicked to where my hand rested, her lips parting, as if to say something—but she didn’t.

Instead, she sat on the chair by the vanity, opposite me. Her shirt tugged up slightly as she crossed one leg over the other. It was a subtle move, an unconscious one. But it gave me a glimpse. And she knew it.

"You’re teasing me," she murmured.

"Am I?" I asked, feigning surprise. "I just brought you breakfast. You invited me in."

"And you sat on my bed."

"It looked warm," I said. "Like it missed someone."

Her eyes narrowed, but her breathing betrayed her.

I reached forward, slicing a piece of the warm croissant on the tray and dipping it in a bit of honey. I held it up between two fingers and extended my hand.

"Here," I said. "Try it."

She looked at it like it was a trap.

"It’s just food," I added gently. "Not poison."

Hesitantly, she leaned forward, opened her lips slightly, and took it into her mouth. Her tongue brushed my fingers.

She paused.

Then pulled back abruptly, swallowing.

Her cheeks were burning. Her eyes didn’t meet mine.

"I-I could’ve taken it myself."

"But I wanted to feed you," I said softly, wiping a bit of honey from her lip with my thumb. I lingered there—just a heartbeat longer than necessary. Her breath caught again.

It was like pulling string from an unraveling tapestry. One slow, gentle tug at a time.

"Are you always like this?" she asked, almost accusingly. "With women?"

"Only the ones I want."

She swallowed hard. "You’re not supposed to say things like that to me."

"I’m not supposed to do many things," I whispered, leaning slightly forward. "But you’re still sitting there. Still letting me."

Her thighs squeezed together again.

She stood suddenly and moved toward the window, trying to collect herself. "You’re dangerous."

I didn’t move from the bed. "No. I’m honest."

She glanced back at me over her shoulder. "You’re playing a game."

"And yet... you haven’t asked me to leave."

Silence. Her breathing was unsteady. I could see her fingers twitching slightly, clutching the sill too tightly.

"Why me?" she finally asked, her voice low. "You have Morgana. You could have any maid or noble girl here who throws herself at you. Why try to get under my skin?"

I stood then. Slowly. Calmly.

I walked up behind her. I didn’t touch her—but I let the warmth of my body linger inches from hers. Close enough for her to feel my breath on her ear.

"Because you’re not like them," I murmured. "You tell yourself you’re above it all. That you’re in control. But I see you, Romie."

She shuddered.

"I saw the way you looked at me last night."

"That was a mistake," she said weakly.

"Was it?" I let the words hang. "Then why haven’t you walked away yet?"

Another beat of silence. Then she finally turned to face me, her face flushed, her breath shallow, but her eyes burning with something that wasn’t quite anger... wasn’t quite denial.

She stared at me like she was trying to fight off a tide she knew she couldn’t win against.

"I hate you," she whispered.

I smiled. "No. You don’t."

Her fingers twitched—then one of them, just barely, brushed my chest. It wasn’t much. But it was her move, not mine.

The system chimed silently in my mind.

[Romie Elowen’s Affection Heart: [♥♥♡♡♡]

Her eyes widened slightly, as if some part of her had felt that subtle shift too—like the air between us had changed in an instant.

I leaned in closer.

She didn’t push me away.

And she didn’t stop me when I smiled and turned to leave.

Let her stew in it. Let her burn.

She’d be the one to make the next move.

And I’d be ready.