Reincarnated in DxD With the 100X System

Mittelt stared at the outfit like it was a cursed artifact.

Her wings twitched erratically, her hands trembling as she held the fabric.

Then—

Her cheeks turned a deep crimson.

Her posture stiffened.

Her entire system short-circuited.

"H-HERE?! IN FRONT OF YOU?!"

Her voice cracked.

Pure panic.

Maximum tsundere mode engaged.

She looked seconds away from combusting.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!"

I didn't flinch.

Instead, I calmly sat back on my bed, crossing my arms with exaggerated casualness.

Slow, confident posture shift.

Complete lack of concern.

Absolute dominance.

I tilted my head slightly.

"Consider it your first test of loyalty."

Then I let my smirk widen.

"Or punishment, whichever motivates you more."

Mittelt gulped.

Her wings fluttered uncertainly.

Conflicted.

Embarrassed.

Yet… oddly excited?

She clutched the maid outfit tighter, her eyes flicking toward me before quickly looking away.

Then, in a barely audible mutter—

"You're definitely a pervert…"

I chuckled.

Smooth. Calm. Completely unfazed.

Then I locked eyes with her, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe."

The air between us shifted.

The tension that had been playful moments ago now carried an undercurrent of something else.

Something uncharted.

Mittelt stood there, clutching the maid outfit, her wings twitching, her golden eyes locked onto mine.

Her expression was a mess of emotions—annoyance, defiance, curiosity… and just a hint of reluctant excitement.

Finally, after a long silence—

She sighed.

"Fine…" she muttered, voice quieter than before.

Then, in an almost warning tone—

"But don't stare too much…!"

I didn't hesitate.

I didn't flinch.

I simply leaned back, resting against the headboard, my smirk still firmly in place.

"No promises."

Her cheeks darkened instantly.

Her wings ruffled aggressively, her grip tightening on the fabric in her hands.

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to throw something at me.

Instead—

She swallowed hard, turning away slightly, her breathing uneven.

————————

The room felt warmer.

Not from magic. Not from the battle. But from something unspoken, something charged.

The kind of tension that didn't require words.

Mittelt stood before me, her wings twitching, golden hair cascading over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look far too vulnerable for someone who had just tried to kill me.

Her fingers hovered over the torn buttons of her battle-worn dress, her knuckles pale from how tightly she was gripping the fabric.

She was hesitating.

But not out of fear.

Her golden eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide, wary—but curious.

Embarrassment danced in her gaze, but she didn't look away.

She wanted me to say something.

To move first.

To test if I was bluffing.

I wasn't.

I smirked.

"Nervous?"

Her wings flared, her glare resurfacing in an instant.

"S-shut up."

Her fingers fumbled at the clasps of her dress, and then, finally—the first button came undone.

The fabric shifted.

It slipped over smooth, pale skin, revealing the soft curve of her collarbone first, then the slender dip of her shoulders.

The air was thick, charged, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

I let my eyes roam, drinking in every subtle motion, every flicker of hesitation before she continued.

Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling slightly faster now.

She turned her back to me, hair spilling over delicate shoulder blades, the long strands moving like spun gold with every motion.

I couldn't stop watching.

Even when she hesitated.

Even when her fingers trembled over the next set of buttons, when she sucked in a breath before pulling the fabric further apart.

The dress slid lower.

More skin. More hesitation.

She shifted, as if suddenly aware of just how much I was watching her.

She wanted to act indifferent.

She wasn't.

The heat on her face told me otherwise.

She turned slightly, just enough to glance at me over her shoulder.

Her golden eyes burned—not with anger, not with defiance.

With something else.

I tilted my head, watching her, enjoying the way she fidgeted under my gaze.

"You know," I mused, voice smooth, "you're taking your time. Almost like you're waiting for something."

She swallowed.

Her fingers clenched around the fabric, her wings twitching violently.

"Tch. You're insufferable."

She tried to sound annoyed, but her voice wavered.

I let the silence stretch, let her feel the weight of the moment.

Then I leaned forward, dropping my voice just a little.

"If you're that flustered already… how are you going to handle what I ask next?"

She stiffened.

I saw the moment her breath hitched.

She knew exactly what I was implying.

And yet…

She didn't move away.

She didn't argue.

Her hands clenched tighter around the loose fabric of her half-open dress.

She was still waiting.

I reached out, gently brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear, letting my fingers trail just long enough to feel her shiver.

Then, in the same calm, controlled voice—

"Kneel."

Her breath stuttered.

Her wings fluttered violently, pulse visible at the base of her throat.

Her hands clenched at her sides—one last moment of resistance.

Then—

She lowered herself.

Her knees touched the floor, her face burning with embarrassment, defiance, and something far more dangerous.

The tension in the room was absolute.

She looked up, eyes clouded with something unreadable.

And as she lowered herself, her breath unsteady, I knew one thing for certain—

This was only the beginning.