What does it mean that the Demon King was killed by a wheelchair?

creak~

The mahogany doors of the hotel room looked as if they had been soaked in wine; House could smell the pleasant aroma from afar as he walked down the corridor.

After the wheelchair rolled over the threshold and into the room, House's sense of unease, which had been present since he entered the hotel, was undoubtedly amplified.

If the resemblance in the lobby can be attributed to mere coincidence, then the resemblance in the hotel rooms is definitely not even worth faking.

A goose-down carpet, hearts made of rose petals hanging on the walls, and pristine white bedding on two large beds—House could tell at a touch that it was definitely down. Most importantly, the lighting was stunning; the oil lamps on the ceiling, burning some unknown fuel, emitted concentric rings of pale pink light…

The bathroom in this room is even more outrageous... It has everything from a bathtub and shower to a toilet and sink, and there's a completely transparent glass wall, so anyone outside can see everything that's happening inside.

"Um... come in, it's actually quite nice."

House called out towards the door, looking slightly embarrassed, before a single, exquisite little leather boot stepped into the room.

Omia squeezed in carrying her suitcase, her eyes darting around, her face burning like a hot kettle, like a shy young wife.

However, she wasn't the only one like this, because House's ears were also burning red, and he half-covered his eyes, not daring to look at her.

"Ah...ah...okay."

The door slammed shut again with a creak. Omia stood by the door, her lips pursed. The room was eerily quiet. The two women looked at each other for a moment, then simultaneously looked away.

The girl lightly stomped her feet, her hands unconsciously clenching into a fist and placing it on her chest.

Whether it was because the room was well-insulated or just psychological, the two of them felt their bodies getting uncontrollably hot as soon as they entered the room, their breathing became more and more rapid, and their shirts were already soaked with sweat without them even realizing it.

"This style... is so novel, I've never seen it before..."

Omia tried to find a topic to talk about, but House had no idea how to respond to the conversation.

Because this room... no matter how you look at it, it looks exactly like the XX Hotel from his past life!

Bro, it's not because your virgin blood is kicking in that you're afraid to speak. If this were a normal room, House wouldn't even be breathing.

But the problem was, when he looked at the familiar green sofa and ivory white table in the corner... this setup looked way too familiar!

Memories of Tang Bohu, Kunkun Rabbit... flooded my mind, and I abandoned my "Tanhua Series" here.

That's right, the layout of this room B is exactly the same as the production site of those domestically produced pornographic drugs in House's previous life!

This might not be a big deal for Omia, but for House, it's hell!

He felt that every word he said to Omia was a pre-battle prayer. He didn't know which word he would say and the tone of the conversation would suddenly change, turning into a European and American style of play!

No...no, it will disappear!

House swallowed hard, his brain racing, determined to get Omia away from him no matter what!

But in this situation, House has lost all his intelligence.

His already racing brain, heightened by extreme tension, caused him to utter the wrong words:

"Um... Omia, why don't you go... take a shower first? I need to calm down."

"Huh...huh!?" The girl felt like she was sitting on pins and needles upon hearing this. She slowly turned her head and looked at the completely transparent bathroom and the row of lace battle robes hanging on the clothes rack...her face immediately turned even redder and hotter.

Omia bit her lower lip, clutching her robes tightly: "Right...right now! Here!?"

House, however, quickly distanced himself from the situation, swiftly turning his wheelchair around and straightening the backrest:

"I...I won't watch it, absolutely not, please believe me."

"Mmm..." Omia's moist lips opened and closed repeatedly, her long eyelashes trembling violently like two butterfly wings fluttering in the wind. Her gaze fluttered down House's back, then quickly darted away, landing on the cactus in the corner, on the toes of her own boots, on the brass buckle of her suitcase... but she dared not look back.

It took House a while to hear her take a deep breath, very lightly, as if she were inhaling some kind of determination into her lungs.

"good..."

The reply was so soft, like a wisp of smoke drifting from the throat; if you didn't listen carefully, you might mistake it for the wind blowing through the window.

rustling.

The sound of fabric rubbing against fingers...

It was so subtle, almost swallowed up by the ambiguous silence of the room, that House's ears twitched. He instinctively gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his knuckles turning slightly white.

The rustling sound paused.

Then he heard the soft rustling of fabric slipping, like one feather brushing against another, with a soft texture that made his heart itch uncontrollably... Then came the muffled thud of leather boots lightly tapping on the carpet, one, then two.

The footsteps headed towards the bathroom, making almost no sound on the downy carpet, but House could still sense the hesitation in the steps. Each step felt like stepping on red-hot coals, quick and light, with a panicked escape.

The bathroom door made a very faint "click".

House slowly loosened his grip on the armrest, his palms already damp with a thin layer of sweat. He remained motionless, his back turned, but the redness at the base of his ears had spread all the way to the roots of his neck.

The sound of running water began to come from the bathroom, muffled by the glass, like listening to a mountain stream through a thin mist.

The voice was initially a bit urgent, as if it were trying to cover something up, but then it gradually calmed down and became long and even.

The rising steam began to condense into white mist on the glass, gradually obscuring the faint outline completely.

---

Splash splash ...

"Hahaha....!"

Omia had been washing for five minutes, but House felt like five centuries had passed.

His eyes, bloodshot and fixed on the ground, were completely absorbed in his work. House felt as if all the blood in his body was surging wildly.

The activity of getting Omia away from him didn't calm him down at all; instead, it made him feel like he was about to suffocate!

Splash splash ...

For the first time, he realized that having such excellent hearing wasn't necessarily a good thing. In the now silent room, House could hear every single sound coming from behind him clearly...

There were sounds of water flowing across the floor, the splashing of a girl's delicate feet, and the soft breathing as she occasionally rubbed her skin against the water...

Ugh!!!

House's soul roared, "No, no, no! Don't imagine, don't imagine, don't imagine! Form is emptiness, emptiness is form...form is emptiness, emptiness is...form ...

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

All of this was relentlessly and brutally attacking House's rationality!

House thought that since he had watched so many teen romance anime and the male and female leads lived together in the same room without anything happening, he could hold it in, right?

But that's not actually the case at all. Reality and fantasy are so different. Eating three bowls of rice just by listening to the sound of bath water... Sakuta Azusagawa, how the hell did you manage to hold back?!

However, Omia seemed to have relaxed, and House could even hear her starting to hum softly.

"Hmm!"

But it would have been better if he had kept quiet; making a sound only made things more unbearable for House.

House's faith is being tested...

"Tsk...hiss...I'll just take a look...I shouldn't do anything wrong, right?"

"Just a quick glance back... I should be fine as long as I turn right back, right?"

No, no, no! Damn it, a gentleman's word is his bond!

House, what are you thinking? What nonsense! Didn't you just promise her? How can you give up halfway? What happened to being a Sigma man? Now you can't control your lower body...

"hiss--"

"well?"

Suddenly, House remembered a question...

Looking back on those days, it seems that the system in that trench once told me something: [The system detected that the host does not have the necessary tools; the effect cannot be triggered.]

So what's going on now?

If what the system says is true... then why do I feel this impulse and excitement right now?

Although it was a very unpleasant thing to say, he had always believed that he was a eunuch.

But only now did he belatedly realize, damn it... I don't think I ever actually checked that!?

Why did I listen to the system in the first place?

Why... why did I forget?

Excitement, trepidation... a mix of emotions welled up in his right hand as he stared down between his legs...

"Ha...ha...with a general leading an army of thousands, what difficulty is there in taking something out of a bag?! Kindness!"

"—!!!"

"............"

House is feeling a bit conflicted right now.

"This magic crystal disease...it seems it affects more than just the legs."