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"Please… leave my daughter."

A mother's plea. Soft. Desperate. But steady.

Orochimaru turned, golden eyes flickering with amusement. Yuriko Takagi stood before him awake, aware, and already caught up on the nightmare her world had become. The virus. The apocalypse. Her husband's twisted plans. And worst of all? Saya's deal.

She had sold herself for her mother's life.

For Yuriko.

And while a part of her swelled with pride at her daughter's sacrifice… the rest of her rebelled against it.

She couldn't accept it.

Especially not the part about another world. But the problem was, there was no room for denial.

Not when she'd already seen too much.

Clones that vanished in puffs of smoke. Men walking up walls like it was the most normal thing in the world. Saya's trembling but determined voice as she explained where he came from.

And the more Yuriko heard, the worse it got.

Wars fought in the shadows. Children trained to kill before they could even spell morality. Monsters far worse than the dead outside these walls.

A world that made this apocalypse look almost tame.

Her fingers curled into fists. "Saya is my daughter. My responsibility. If you need a replacement, then—"

Orochimaru cut her off with a quiet chuckle. "You're offering yourself instead?"

Yuriko swallowed. "If that's what it takes."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like an interesting specimen. "Now that's quite the proposal. A mother sacrificing herself for her daughter… how poetic."

"She's already mine."

A simple, undeniable fact.

And the worst part? Yuriko already knew it.

But hearing it out loud—so casual, so absolute—made something in her chest tighten.

She swallowed, pushing past the emotion. "Then take me with you too."

Orochimaru raised a brow, intrigued but unsurprised.

She had already expected this outcome. Saya was in too deep, and there was no undoing that. But Yuriko wasn't the type to sit back and watch. If she couldn't change her daughter's fate… she would follow her.

Even into hell.

Orochimaru leaned back slightly, arms folded. "And what exactly do you bring to the table?"

Yuriko didn't answer, reaching for the buttons of her blouse.

The fabric slipped from her shoulders. One button. Then another.

Orochimaru didn't stop her. Didn't react at all, really. Just watched.

By the time the last piece of clothing hit the floor, she met his gaze head-on. If she was ashamed, she didn't show it. This was a trade, an offer, a sacrifice. Her body, in exchange for her daughter's place.

"You assume that's what I want?" Orochimaru's voice was calm, amused even.

"Maybe not," Yuriko admitted. Her posture remained firm, unwavering. "But this is what I can give you."

Her body, in exchange for her daughter's place.

Orochimaru turned away, completely unfazed by the palpable tension in the room, and made his way to the bed .

His movements were fluid, almost serpentine, as he settled onto the edge of the mattress.

"Come."

That was it. No hesitation, no drawn-out negotiations, just a single, chillingly direct invitation that hung heavy in the air, demanding a response.

Yuriko took a slow breath. She had understood the deal the moment he didn't refuse.

A step forward. Then another.

Now, standing right in front of him, she tilted her chin up slightly, meeting his gaze head-on.

She didn't need to be told what to do; getting on her knees, she moved her hands to his pants.

His cock plops up, slapping her chin; it's the biggest she has seen.

Controlling her expression, she starts moving her hand, pumping its length, getting it to harden.

The weight, the heat—it was more than she expected. But she kept her expression carefully neutral. She refused to let him see any hesitation.

She started slow, testing, gauging his reaction. But his face remained unreadable, golden eyes watching her with the same detached interest he had when dissecting a corpse.

That irritated her more than it should have.

Without a word, she adjusted her grip, her movements becoming more deliberate. More confident.

Still, nothing.

Her lips pressed together. Was he unimpressed? Or was this just another way he enjoyed toying with people making them question their own worth?

Fine. If that was the game, she'd play along.

Yuriko leaned in slightly, her breath ghosting over his skin as she let her fingers drag along his length, slow and teasing, stroking , moving her hands, of course not forgetting to prodding of his balls.