The key fought against Kimiko's fingers, refusing to slot properly into the lock. She adjusted her grip, trying to steady her hand while simultaneously supporting Luka's massive weight against her side.

"Stubborn little thing," she muttered, jiggling the key more forcefully.

Luka swayed dangerously, nearly toppling them both into the hallway wall. "Careful with that," he slurred, his breath heavy with whiskey. "S'an expensive door."

"I'm well aware of how much our door cost, dear," Kimiko replied, finally feeling the satisfying click as the tumblers aligned. "You reminded me every day for a month after installation."

The door swung open, revealing their darkened condo. Kimiko navigated them inside, kicking the door closed behind her with one foot while maintaining her grip on her husband's substantial frame. Luka was six-foot-five of pure muscle, and in his current state, about as coordinated as a newborn giraffe.

"...and then I told 'im," Luka continued a joke he'd been attempting to deliver for the past ten minutes, "that's not a Crawler, that's my mother-in-law!" He erupted into booming laughter at his own punchline, the sound echoing through their silent home.

"Yes, dear. Very funny," Kimiko said, patting his chest affectionately. "Let's get the big oaf to bed before you wake the entire building."

She guided him through the living room, expertly navigating around furniture corners that had claimed Luka's shins on many similar nights. Years of practice had taught her the optimal path to their bedroom, one that minimized both noise and potential bruising.

"Love you, Kimi," Luka mumbled as she maneuvered him to sit on the edge of their king-sized bed. His large hands fumbled with his shoelaces.

"Here, let me," she said, kneeling to remove his boots. The worn leather was still warm from his feet. "And I love you too, you ridiculous man."

She helped him out of his jacket, hanging it carefully in the closet—Luka was particular about his clothing, even when three sheets to the wind. When she turned back, he had already collapsed onto the mattress, sprawled across the covers like a felled tree. A thunderous snore erupted from him almost immediately.

Kimiko stood watching him for a moment, this powerful B-Rank Hunter reduced to a snoring lump.

She brushed her teeth and changed quickly in the bathroom, looking forward to crawling into bed herself. The charity gala had run much later than expected, and the numerous champagne toasts had left her pleasantly warm and fuzzy around the edges. She'd need to drink plenty of water tomorrow to ward off a headache.

As she emerged from their ensuite bathroom in her silk nightgown, a sound penetrated her consciousness—a thumping bassline vibrating through the walls of their condo.

Boom-tiss-boom-tiss

Kimiko frowned, glancing at the clock on her nightstand: 2:17 AM. That was Natalia's music, and the volume was frankly ridiculous for this hour. The girl knew better.

"Teenagers," she muttered, shaking her head. Luka remained oblivious, his snores creating a strange counterpoint to the distant music.

Kimiko slipped back into the hallway, following the pulsing rhythm to Natalia's room. The door was slightly ajar, warm light spilling onto the hallway carpet.

"Natalia-chan?" she called softly, knocking gently on the door frame. No response came from within, just the insistent beat of the music.

She pushed the door open wider, expecting to find her stepdaughter with headphones on, lost in her own world. Instead, she found an empty room. The bed was perfectly made, not a wrinkle in sight—typical Natalia, always immaculate. The only thing disturbing the order was the high-tech speaker on her desk, pulsing with light in time to the music.

Kimiko crossed the room and turned down the volume, plunging the space into abrupt silence. She stood there for a moment, puzzled. Why would Natalia leave her music blaring and just... disappear? It wasn't like her at all.

In the sudden quiet, a new sound caught Kimiko's attention. A rhythmic, wet slapping noise coming from further down the hall.

Smack... smack... whap... smack...

Her brow furrowed. The sound was coming from Satori's room.

Kimiko's mind, loosened by several glasses of champagne, jumped to the most logical, if embarrassing, conclusion. Is he watching pornography? So loudly? She felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment mixed with motherly exasperation. The boy finally gets a date with a nice girl and comes home to... this?

She walked toward Satori's door, intending to give it a sharp knock and suggest he use headphones like a civilized person. Her knuckles were raised, about to rap on the wood, when voices from within stopped her cold.

"Oh gods... yes... right there... fill my dirty pussy... give me your baby..."

The voice was female, hoarse and breathless. And vaguely familiar in a way that sent an icy trickle down Kimiko's spine.

"Take it all... every fucking inch... you're my good girl..."

That was definitely Satori. Her son's voice, transformed into something low and guttural she'd never heard before.

Kimiko's hand remained frozen in midair. Her champagne-hazed brain struggled to process what she was hearing. Did he bring a girl home? Emi? On their first date? The boldness was shocking. But the woman's voice... it didn't sound like Emi's cheerful tones. It was deeper, more... desperate.

The door wasn't fully latched, she realized. It was cracked open by less than an inch. A sliver of golden light escaped into the hallway, illuminating her still-raised hand.

Curiosity and a dawning sense of dread overwhelmed her. Holding her breath, she leaned forward slightly, peering through the tiny gap.

Her world shattered.

It wasn't Emi.

It was Natalia.

Her stepdaughter lay pinned to the bed, wrists held above her head by Satori's large hand. They were gloriously, completely naked.

Satori moved like a machine of pure, primal lust, his back muscles rippling under the dim light as he pounded into Natalia with a brutal rhythm. Her perfect, heavy breasts bounced with each thrust, her head thrashing from side to side on the pillow.

But it wasn't just the sex that froze Kimiko's blood. Things were floating. A book drifted lazily past the door crack. A discarded shirt hovered near the ceiling like a ghost. The air in the room seemed charged with energy—a telekinetic maelstrom surrounding the pair on the bed.

Natalia's long, toned legs wrapped tightly around Satori's waist, her ankles locked together at the small of his back as if ensuring nothing escaped, nothing was wasted.

They kissed with savage intensity, a collision of tongues and teeth even as their bodies slammed together.

Every strange glance. Every moment of tense silence. Every unexplained absence. It all clicked into place in Kimiko's mind with the horrifying, undeniable certainty of a guillotine's blade.

Her son.

Her stepdaughter.

Kimiko stumbled back from the door, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp. She didn't make a sound. She moved on autopilot, a ghost in her own home, backing away down the hall. Her bare feet made no noise on the plush carpet.

She returned to her bedroom. Luka remained a snoring mountain, blissfully unaware that their world had just imploded. She changed into her nightgown, her movements robotic, mind blank with shock.

She slipped into bed beside her husband. The springs creaked softly beneath her weight. She lay on her back, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the distant, rhythmic sounds from down the hall—the slapping of flesh, the creak of the headboard against the wall, a woman's ecstatic cries.

A single, silent tear escaped and traced a cold path down her temple into her hair.

How long? How did I miss this? What happens now?

The questions swirled in her mind, relentless and without answers. She remembered Natalia's strange behavior lately—the new glow to her skin, the secret smiles, the lingering glances at Satori across the dinner table. She recalled Satori's transformation—not just physical, but in confidence and bearing. How he carried himself like a different person.

They weren't just stepsiblings experimenting. What she had witnessed was the raw culmination of something that had been building for weeks, maybe months. Something deep and consuming and dangerous.

Should I confront them? Tell Luka? Pretend I saw nothing?

Each option seemed equally impossible. To speak of it would be to make it real, to bring it crashing into their family life where it could never be ignored again. To remain silent would be to become complicit in something she could never condone.

From down the hall came a sharp cry—Natalia's voice rising in unmistakable climax. Then Satori's deeper groan followed, the sound of a man emptying himself completely.

Kimiko closed her eyes, unable to block the sounds, unable to unhear, to unsee. She lay perfectly still beside her sleeping husband, listening to their children breaking every taboo, every boundary.

Her tears continued to fall, silent and unstoppable, as the foundation of her perfect family crumbled around her.

A memory surfaced—Satori as a small boy, his red hair vibrant against pale skin, asking her with solemn eyes why they had to leave their old apartment. "We're moving up in the world," she had told him, hugging him close. "Everything will be better now."

She had believed it then. Had believed that marrying Luka, joining their families, would give Satori the father he needed, would provide them with security and happiness.

How naive she had been.

Kimiko rolled onto her side, facing away from Luka's sleeping form. She curled into herself, making her body small, trying to disappear into the expensive sheets of their king-sized bed.

The sounds from down the hall had quieted, but Kimiko knew with terrible certainty that the silence wouldn't last. They would start again. Young bodies, insatiable desire.

Her children. Her family. Her failure.

"My baby," she whispered into the darkness, so quietly that not even Luka's enhanced Hunter senses could have detected it. "What have you become?"

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