Honkai Impact: My Power Grows When Valkyries Fall For Me — Chapter 105

Chapter 105: Bronya’s Night Raid

In the end, Lucian had to summon his drunken strength to kick all three of them out.

The girls were unceremoniously pushed out the door and left standing in the hallway, looking at each other in shared dismay.

The door clicked shut behind them. In the quiet of the corridor, the sound of the lock turning was exceptionally clear.

Kiana froze for a few seconds before suddenly lunging at the door, pounding on the solid wood panel with both hands.

“Lucian! Open the door! You can’t do this!” Her voice, strained with anxiety, carried through the wood. “I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet!”

Mei stood to the side with her arms crossed, her expression a complicated mixture of emotions. Looking at the firmly closed door, she let out a soft, incredulous sigh.

“…We got kicked out.”

There was a hint of disbelief in her tone, as if such a thing was simply not supposed to happen to her. In truth, she never expected that Lucian, who was usually so pliant and accommodating, would actually start refusing them after getting drunk. She had thought she could record some very interesting videos tonight, but in the end, her efforts had yielded nothing at all…

The door panel vibrated slightly under Kiana’s assault, emitting a series of dull thuds.

“Lucian! Did you hear me?! Open the door!” she shouted until her throat was nearly raw, her forehead pressed against the door. She looked like an abandoned kitten mewling in the rain.

Mei couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the sight. “Kiana, stop shouting. You’ll disturb the other guests.”

She then added, with a hint of teasing, “Besides, you’re making a scene.”

Kiana froze instantly.

She turned her head and saw that a door at the far end of the hallway was slightly ajar. A single, curious eye was peering out from the crack.

Kiana: “…”

She silently peeled herself off the door, her face flushing a shade of red that rivaled a ripe tomato.

Bronya had been standing at the very back the entire time, her expression as placid as ever. But if one looked closely, they would see the corners of her mouth had dipped by a few millimeters. For Bronya, this was already a sign of extreme displeasure.

“The probability of success for tonight’s operation was originally 87.3%.”

“And now?” Kiana asked instinctively.

Bronya’s gaze remained fixed on the door. “Now, the probability of Lucian opening the door is 0.01%.”

Kiana: “…”

Mei: “…”

The three of them fell silent for a few seconds.

Then, Kiana suddenly lunged at the door again. This time, however, her voice was much quieter, almost a whisper pressed against the crack.

“Lucian, just let me in to grab my coat. I’m cold—”

Only silence answered from within.

A few seconds later, the lights in the room went out.

Kiana: “…”

Mei finally couldn’t hold back her laughter, reaching out to pat Kiana’s slumped shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get some rest.”

In the end, the three of them retreated to their respective rooms.

Through the heavy security door, Lucian heard the commotion outside gradually subside. He let out a long, shaky breath, his body slumping against the wood.

He looked down at himself. His shirt was a crumpled mess, clinging to his skin. The collar was pulled wide open, revealing a faint sheen of sweat tracing the line of his collarbone. The cloying mixture of alcohol, his own sweat, and the lingering perfumes of the three girls was an intoxicating, overwhelming assault on his senses.

He pushed himself off the door and staggered toward the bathroom, using the wall for support.

When the hot water poured down, he stood under the showerhead with his eyes closed, letting the stream wash over his heated skin.

His mind was a chaotic mess.

Those three probably never expected him to refuse.

He wiped the water from his face, opened his eyes, and stared blankly at the light on the bathroom ceiling. When Kiana was knocking just now, he’d actually had a fleeting impulse to open the door.

But in the next moment, a single thought had flashed through his mind with exceptional clarity—

‘Don’t open it.”If you open it, you won’t get any sleep tonight.’

And he didn’t mean the euphemistic, suggestive kind of “no sleep.” He meant the literal kind. He would not get a single wink of sleep.

He knew them—and their monstrous constitutions—far too well. If he let them stay the night, he would likely become the first person in the history of St. Freya Academy to die from being “over-pampered.”

Lucian wiped his face again and shook his head, a helpless smile on his lips. What was this? A survival instinct that only awakened after a few drinks?

He turned off the faucet, grabbed a towel to dry himself haphazardly, and slipped into a bathrobe before walking out.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting a pale band of light across the floor.

Wrapped in the plush bathrobe, Lucian walked out onto the balcony.

The night breeze, carrying the damp scent of the Thames, washed over his face. It was cool and refreshing, helping to clear his muddled thoughts. He leaned against the railing and looked out into the distance.

The lights of the Tower Bridge were exceptionally brilliant against the night sky, and the entire city was immersed in a quiet, sprawling prosperity. Occasionally, a tour boat would pass under the bridge, its lights trailing long, colorful ribbons across the dark water.

Lucian didn’t take a seat; he just leaned there, letting the night wind comb through his semi-dry hair. The alcohol hadn’t completely worn off, and his temples throbbed with a dull ache, but he felt much better than before.

“Seriously, every single one of them…” he whispered to himself, his tone laced with a hint of self-deprecation.

If someone had told him a year ago that he was living the life of a power-fantasy protagonist, he would have laughed it off as a joke. Back then, he was just an ordinary person, worrying every day about how to survive, how to keep his head above water in this dangerous world.

And now?

He had gained enough power to change many things, and he was being swarmed by a flock of gorgeous, possessive girls. Now his biggest worry was how to avoid being drained to death by them.

Fate’s sense of irony was truly something else.

Lucian shook his head and was about to head back inside when he caught a flash of movement on the neighboring balcony out of the corner of his eye.

She had also walked out onto her balcony at some point and was leaning over the railing, looking sideways toward him.

Their gazes met across the few meters of open air between them.

Lucian was stunned.

Kiana was also stunned.

Then, she suddenly straightened up and pointed a finger at him.

“You—How can you come out wearing just a bathrobe!”

Lucian looked down at the loose robe he was wearing, the collar gaping open. He looked back up and met Kiana’s face, which had instantly turned bright red.

“Just finished showering,” he explained simply.

Kiana opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to find any words. Her gaze drifted uncontrollably toward his collar, then jerked away as if burned, only to drift back again a moment later.

“Go—go back to sleep!” she finally stammered, her voice rising another octave.

Seeing Kiana’s flustered and annoyed expression, Lucian nodded helplessly. “Yeah, you too. Goodnight.”

He turned, preparing to go back inside.

“Wait!”

Kiana’s voice, tinged with urgency, came from the balcony next door.

Lucian stopped and looked back.

Kiana stood on her balcony, hands gripping the railing, the moonlight falling on her face and casting it in a soft, ethereal glow. She opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but then swallowed the words back down.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she finally spoke in a small voice.

“Remember to make up for that kiss tomorrow…”

Hearing this, Lucian’s footsteps paused.

He looked back at her. Under the moonlight, Kiana’s face was as red as a ripe apple, yet she stubbornly tilted her chin to meet his gaze. Those deep blue eyes clearly said: If you don’t agree, I’ll jump over right now.

“Okay,” Lucian responded. His voice was soft, yet it carried with perfect clarity in the quiet night.

Kiana’s eyes instantly lit up. “It’s a promise! No taking it back!”

Her voice was filled with unmistakable joy, and she looked like she was about to hop over from her balcony right then and there.

Watching her, the corners of Lucian’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Yeah, it’s a promise.”

Kiana nodded with satisfaction and then waved at him. “Then… then goodnight!”

“Goodnight.”

Lucian watched Kiana’s figure disappear behind her balcony door before he finally turned and walked back into his own room.

He closed the sliding balcony door and drew the heavy curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Only a small circle of dim, yellow light from the bedside lamp remained.

He walked to the bed, pulled back the covers, and collapsed onto the mattress. His bathrobe was still loosely open, but he didn’t have the energy to fix it. Drunkenness and fatigue surged together, flooding his consciousness like a tide.

Lucian didn’t know what time he fell asleep. He only remembered that as soon as his head hit the pillow, his consciousness felt as if it were being dragged into an endless, dark abyss.

So, when he vaguely felt the mattress beside him sink slightly, his first reaction was that he was dreaming.

But in the next second, a familiar, faint fragrance drifted into his nostrils.

It wasn’t a dream.

Lucian’s consciousness struggled to surface from the depths of sleep. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and it took a monumental effort just to pry them open a slit.

The room was very dark, the curtains drawn tight. A thin line of moonlight peeked through a gap, casting a faint silver band across the floor.

By that weak light, he saw a figure.

Silver-gray spiral pigtails glowed softly in the darkness, and a pair of calm, gray eyes were watching him.

She had entered his room at some point and was now sitting astride his waist, looking down at him.

Lucian’s brain wasn’t fully awake yet. It took him several seconds to process the scene.

“Bronya…?” His voice was incredibly raspy, thick with the lethargy of a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

“Yes,” Bronya responded, her voice as calm and even as ever. She didn’t explain why she was there. She just sat there quietly, her gray eyes watching him as if she were waiting for something.

“What time is it?”

“2:37 AM.”

Lucian’s movements paused as he looked at Bronya’s expressionless face. “Why are you in my room so late instead of sleeping?”

Bronya fell silent for a second before answering simply, “Bronya couldn’t sleep.”

After hearing that, Lucian’s consciousness finally cleared completely. He instinctively tried to raise his hand to rub his temples, only to find an unusual sense of restraint around his wrists. It wasn’t tight, but it was undeniably sturdy.

He looked up—

A spare bathrobe belt from the hotel had been wrapped around his wrists at some point, with the other end tied firmly to the headboard.

, his Control Bracelet had been taken off and placed neatly on the nightstand.

“Bronya,” he said, his voice low. “I remember telling you all not to mess around when I kicked you out.”

“Bronya remembers.”

She leaned down, her voice a soft whisper. “So, Bronya hasn’t messed around. Yet.”

Her fingertip lightly touched his collarbone, then began to slowly, inch by inch, trace a path down the open V of his bathrobe.

Lucian’s breath hitched.

The bathrobe collar was already loose, and Bronya’s fingertip felt like a faint electric current, tracing from his collarbone down his sternum, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Her movements were very slow. So slow, it felt like a ritual.

“Lucian, how about a bet with Bronya.”

Her voice was a calm murmur in the dark.

“If Lucian can remain absolutely calm for five minutes, Bronya will admit defeat.”

The pad of her finger lightly traced a small circle in a perfectly ambiguous spot just above his navel.

“But if…” She suddenly leaned even lower. Her silver-gray hair cascaded down, brushing against his skin like feathers, or perhaps like sparks of static. “…If Lucian loses, Bronya will stay and sleep with you. Bronya promises not to do anything too out of line.”

“If not, Bronya will leave immediately and return to her room.”

“How about it?”

Lucian’s Adam’s apple bobbed slowly. “Do I have a choice?”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Fine…”

Bronya nodded, and then her fingertip finally moved with more purpose. It was no longer just a simple trace, but a light press, as if testing the elasticity of his skin.

Lucian’s body involuntarily tensed up.

He forced his breathing to remain steady and shifted his gaze to the ceiling, avoiding looking directly at Bronya’s face, which was far too close.

Bronya didn’t speak again. She simply pressed her body down, her weight settling over him. Her warm breath fell against the side of his neck.

Once. And then again.

Like some silent, inexorable countdown.

Lucian closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus his attention elsewhere. The night view of the Thames, the lights of Tower Bridge, the itinerary he had to deal with tomorrow, Kiana and Mei, who were probably fast asleep in the rooms next door…

But Bronya seemed to have calculated everything long ago.

Her fingertip had moved from his chest to his abdomen, lightly tracing circles. The movement was light and slow, yet it precisely avoided all truly sensitive zones, continuously eroding his defenses. Her hair brushed against his ear from time to time. Her other hand joined in, this time gripping his waist and giving it a light, testing squeeze.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Fine beads of sweat began to form on Lucian’s forehead. He clenched his jaw, but his breathing grew heavier and heavier.

At the third minute, Bronya suddenly moved again.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. It wasn’t a kiss. She just pressed the tip of her nose against his skin and gave a light, inquisitive nuzzle.

Then, extremely softly, almost inaudibly, she whispered:

“…Lucian’s heart rate is now 112 beats per minute.”

“Forty-one beats faster than before.”

Her voice carried a very faint, almost imperceptible note of triumph.

Lucian suddenly lost his composure.

“Bronya,” he growled. “You’re cheating.”

“Bronya has already been very easy on you,” she replied, her voice still a soft murmur, yet carrying a nearly cruel tenderness. She looked up, her gray eyes like two pools of quiet moonlight in the dark, staring straight into his.

“Bronya hasn’t used any tricks, hasn’t used any seduction, and hasn’t touched anywhere she shouldn’t have.”

“She just… touched Lucian a little.” She paused, her fingertip tracing another small circle on his abdomen, this time a bit lower than before. “Besides, Lucian has clearly already lost.”

Lucian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he denied weakly, “I haven’t…”

“Your heart rate has reached 117.”

“And…” She suddenly brought her face even closer, her lips almost touching his ear as her warm breath swept over him like a feather. “…Lucian doesn’t even have the confidence to deny it anymore.”

Lucian closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath.

“Fine… I admit defeat.” His voice was very low, as if he were making a compromise with himself.

Bronya’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.

Then she slowly sat up straight, resuming her quiet and aloof posture.

“Bronya wins.”

She said this, but she didn’t immediately move to untie the restraints on his wrists. Instead, she reached out and gently smoothed the wrinkled collar of his bathrobe.

“According to our agreement, Bronya can stay tonight.”

Lucian looked at her face, so close to his, and swallowed hard. “Bronya, you said you wouldn’t do anything too out of line.”

“So what you’re doing now… does it count as out of line?” she asked, her head tilted. She paused, then suddenly reached out and gently, deftly, untied the bathrobe belt binding his wrists.

The movement was very light. Like unwrapping a precious gift. The belt slid off with a faint rustling sound.

“Bronya remembers very clearly,” she said, her voice a soft purr. As she looked at Lucian’s tense face, a rare, genuine smile bloomed on her lips.

“So Bronya won’t go that far.”

“But other than that—kissing, undressing, touching…”

“Bronya will do it all.”

Ahem. A thousand words of the ensuing process have been tastefully elided. If the demand is high enough, I might just add some spice and post the full version in the group chat…

My condition hasn’t been the best lately, but I’ll slowly make up for the owed chapters. Thank you all for your gifts and ratings!