The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the woman's figure clad in revealing clothes, daringly exposing a tantalizing amount of smooth skin. The fabric hugged her curves, amplifying her mysterious and alluring aura. His breath hitched as her seductive gaze met his, momentarily rendering him speechless in its captivating power.

"Hello, Mrs. Clementine," he managed to respond, his voice tinged with a hint of desire as he tried his best to conceal the undercurrent of lust and seduction that threatened to surface.

"How unfortunate," Clementine chuckled, her tone laced with mischief, "at least give this young lady a compliment..." She observed Desmond's reaction with a mix of amusement and disappointment dancing in her eyes.

Desmond couldn't help but let his mind wander, silently musing, "This woman calls herself a young lady, even though she has a daughter of the same age as me..." The incongruity of it all lingered in his thoughts, adding another layer of complexity to the enigma that was Mrs. Clementine.

Meanwhile, concealed on the other side of the reflective surface, a girl with cascading red locks, bearing an undeniable resemblance to Clementine, watched her mother's interaction with a perplexed expression. She, too, wore a nightgown that dared to expose a hint of her alluring cleavage.

Despite her youthful countenance, she possessed a breathtaking beauty and an exquisite figure that rivaled her mother's.

"Mother, what are you doing?" the girl interjected, her voice laced with curiosity, interrupting Clementine as she meticulously selected garments for her daughter.

Clementine turned around, meeting her daughter's gaze with a secretive smile dancing upon her lips. "Ah, mother is..." She paused, momentarily captivated by her daughter's provocative attire, before regaining her composure. "Come here a minute, Diana, mother has something important to discuss with you," she said, her tone cunning and sly, beckoning Diana to approach.

Diana, lazily lounging on her bed, felt a surge of annoyance at her mother's summons. "Can't you just tell me here?" she grumbled petulantly, her reluctance to rise evident in her voice.

Clementine's patience waned, her irritation flickering in her eyes. "Come here, or I won't pick out your dress," she retorted, her words tinged with a subtle threat, a veiled warning of consequences for her daughter's lack of cooperation.

Reluctantly, Diana dragged herself off the bed, a sliver of curiosity cutting through her lethargy. Slowly, she approached her mother, who stood before a mirror, her gaze fixed upon its surface, her expression a mixture of intrigue and fascination.

"What's wrong, mother?" Diana inquired, her curiosity morphing into confusion as she caught sight of her mother's enigmatic grin and the reflective glass that held their images. Her eyes fell upon a strange boy whose gaze met hers in the mirrored world beyond.

"D...es...mond?" Diana murmured incredulously, her voice betraying a mix of surprise, confusion, and a dawning realization.

Desmond, his long locks cascading around his handsome face, returned Diana's gaze from the other side of the looking glass. A pang of longing coursed through him, amplified by the allure of Diana's attire, which surpassed even her mother's in its captivating appeal.

Caught in this transfixing moment, Diana stole a glance at her mother, who, too, appeared stunned, as though a crucial detail had slipped through her fingers, leaving them grasping at elusive truths.

The collar of Diana's nightgown hung so loosely that it teasingly revealed the silhouette of her developing nipples, adding an undeniable sensuality to her slender neck and seductive appearance. The mirror Desmond peered into provided a full, unabashed view of Diana's body, accentuating her long, graceful legs and heightening her youthful charm.

As Desmond continued to take in Diana's beauty, he couldn't help but acknowledge the allure that transcended the boundaries of mere youth. His thoughts whispered within, "This girl's enchantment reaches far beyond the confines of innocence."

Yet, Desmond was aware of the temptation that stirred within him, recognizing it as a natural inclination for a boy of his age. The circumstances of his past life, cut short before he could fully explore such emotions, coupled with the bitterness of his previous adolescence, shaped his perspectives on women and altered how he approached and evaluated them.

He cast a brief gaze upon Diana's alluring form, only to redirect his attention towards Clementine's reaction, finding a certain amusement in her countenance.

How was it possible that Clementine had failed to grasp his current state during their initial encounter, while Diana, who had just arrived, swiftly discerned the truth?

Clementine had maintained her silence until that moment, but the realization finally dawned upon her when Desmond's eyes grazed her daughter's body. A mischievous chuckle escaped her lips as she playfully remarked, "Heheh, Little Desmond, what do you think of that?"

Diana's cheeks flushed crimson in front of her mother, and she swiftly averted her gaze from Desmond, shooting an indignant look at Clementine. She hastily covered her exposed décolletage with both hands, taking a seat in the chair adjacent to her mother in an attempt to shield her modesty.

"Ah... young people..." Clementine mused, a wry smile gracing her lips. "Mother will prepare your attire momentarily. You two can chat in the meantime," she declared before gracefully exiting the room. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she subtly winked at Desmond, whispering something to her daughter that remained beyond his hearing.

Upon hearing her mother's words, Diana's embarrassment deepened, her head bowed low as she nervously tightened her collar with both hands.

Desmond, on the other hand, regarded her impassively. Right from the start, Diana's impression upon him carried certain elements he found distasteful. In his eyes, she embodied an air of arrogance, an uncontrollable spirit, and, most significantly, naivety.

Diana was someone who viewed this world through rose-tinted glasses, believing it to be perpetually pristine, with only a smattering of inconsequential blemishes. She held the notion that crimes were limited to mere acts of physical harm—slaps, punches—without considering the ramifications that followed, much like a sheltered princess. And it was precisely this perspective that Desmond despised.

Although Desmond had experienced a life of privilege and had been treated like royalty in his previous existence, he remained unaffected by such superficialities. He held an intrinsic understanding that life was far from trivial, and he refused to be swayed by mere appearances.

Observing Diana's continued perspective on the world, Desmond couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. If she persisted in perceiving the world through her sheltered lens, her actions would eventually mirror those of the contemptible aristocrats who indulged in their desires and discarded anything they deemed unworthy.

If Desmond were to acknowledge anyone as a genius, he supposed that Edward possessed a shrewd intellect when it came to navigating psychological challenges. Yet, with the abolishment of the noble system, there was the imminent risk of societal hierarchy crumbling, potentially paving the way for future issues, such as a treacherous prime minister akin to Sieg.

In addition to honing his magical abilities, Desmond dedicated time to studying the intricate dynamics of this world. He had heard the adage, "Know thy environment, and thou shall mingle and even deceive those who reside within."

As Desmond's mind wandered, Diana also lapsed into an unusual silence. She yearned to initiate a conversation but felt a lingering embarrassment from her earlier actions.

When Diana stole a glance at Desmond, she noticed him gazing at her with an air of calm detachment. This inwardly angered her, for he displayed no signs of attraction towards her physique or any trace of lust. As a result, her mood soured, and she resolved to wait for Desmond to make the first move.

Meanwhile, Clementine, positioned in front of the wardrobe, regretted not paying closer attention to her daughter's behavior. A tinge of self-reproach coursed through her thoughts, labeling Diana as a "stupid child."

Deciding against forcing any further communication between her daughter and Desmond, Clementine opted for a change of approach. "Step aside, and let Mother handle the conversation," she directed, crossing her arms. Observing Diana's unjustified pout, she released an exasperated sigh. Diana snorted and exited the room, her presence fading away.

Though Clementine felt the inclination to reprimand Diana for her behavior, she refrained from doing so in that moment. Focusing her attention on Desmond, she intended to break the silence. "What's the matter, little Desmond—" Clementine's words trailed off when she realized that Desmond remained fixed in his distant reverie. Her astonishment rendered her momentarily speechless.

Breaking the silence, Clementine raised her voice, deliberately elongating her greeting, "Hellooooooo." She hoped to jolt Desmond out of his daze, and her efforts proved successful as his gaze snapped back to the present. "Ah, my apologies, Miss Dia—" Desmond's sentence halted abruptly when he realized that Diana was not the figure before him. "- Mrs.

Clementine," he corrected himself, a sheepish smile forming on his lips as he closed his eyes momentarily.

"Frankly, little Desmond, if you persist in behaving like that, you might encounter difficulties in finding a suitable wife in the future," Clementine remarked, her words carrying a hint of teasing. Desmond was taken aback by her comment, a sudden realization dawning upon him that he had momentarily forgotten the societal norms of this civilization era.

In this time and age, courtship and marriage were natural progressions for individuals his age, with girlfriends often referred to as fiancées.

Desmond fell into a contemplative silence, even though he had remained unmarried in his previous life. As he opened his mouth to respond, uncertainty gripped him, leaving him unsure of what to say.

Clementine observed Desmond's hesitance, and a spark of excitement ignited within her. "Ah, he's just shy! I must teach my daughter the art of capturing his heart!" she mused to herself, envisioning a potential romantic connection between Desmond and Diana.

"Let us return to the main topic at hand. What would you like to discuss, little Desmond?" Clementine inquired, her tone maintaining an air of ease and composure. Yet, if one were to scrutinize her eyes closely, it was evident that she possessed little patience for trivial banter.

Desmond, sensing the gravity of the situation, shed the formalities and spoke earnestly. "Before we proceed, I need your assurance that this information will not be divulged," he requested, emphasizing the gravity of the matter. It was no longer a casual conversation.

Unbeknownst to Desmond, his demeanor inadvertently emitted an aura of intensity. Meanwhile, on the other side of the mirror, Clementine furrowed her brows, puzzled by Desmond's sudden shift in attitude towards her. "Hey, little Desmond, have I offended you in any way?" she queried, seeking clarification.

Vividly recalling their previously harmonious rapport, even during the period when Desmond had injured his hand, Clementine's bewilderment heightened. Her gaze fixated upon Desmond's right hand, which had reverted to its original state, as if the injury had never transpired.

Though Diana had already brought it to her attention earlier, the realization struck Clementine anew, leaving her in a state of astonishment.