Am Boden zerstört durch den Tod seiner geliebten Frau, Lilith, DR. Julian Vance stellt Eisen her, eine makellose und endlos gehorsame Sexpuppe, eine perfekte Hülle, die entwickelt wurde, um einen seltsamen und verzweifelten Zweck zu erfüllen.

Liliths Seele war im gesamten Multiversum fragmentiert. Eisens Ziel ist es, diese Fragmente zu jagen, Eintauchen in endlose Realitäten, inhabiting bodies—from the clearest priestess to the most cunning spy—to claim one vital element from one specific soul: a powerful, intoxicating Soul-Echo of pure, carnal love.

But fate is a weaver of cruel ironies. Eisen soon discovers every man she must claim—from the possessive Pirate Captain and the commanding Emperor, to the secretive Vampire Lord—all share the same face. Julian’s.

As she is consumed by endless cycles of forbidden touch and desperate passion, Eisen is no longer just a sex doll. Each kiss, each climax, each stolen fragment of devotion is building a new consciousness within her vacant core. She is learning how to love the man whose heart she must steal, and the desire is becoming her own.

Her mission is to resurrect the past. But what happens when the perfect vessel for desire gains a soul, and the body designed for duty discovers its own forbidden hungers?

The debt of pleasure is infinite. And the journey has just begun.

An addictive, high-concept erotic fantasy where the lines between duty and desire are violently erased, and one love is fractured across infinite worlds.

World I: Echo on the Fog Breaker

1. The Captive and the Corsair

The salty sea wind, lashed by a squall, hammered against the deck of the Fog Breaker. Inside the captain’s cabin, deep within Clara’s body, Eisen was huddled in a corner. Her fingers nervously picked at the velvet hem of the dress—a remnant of the former occupant, a pampered noblewoman terrified of mice. Noch, the heart beating in her chest was a cold, hard core programmed solely to “collect the Soul Echo.” Her target: Captain Silas “Storm,” from whom she must extract a fragment of pure, visceral, possessive love meant for Lilith.

The door burst open with a groan. Silas barreled in. The hem of his black coat was dripping rain, and the cutlass at his waist was still stained with Royal Navy blood. His massive frame nearly blocked the doorway. His gaze, upon spotting her in the gloom, held the pirate’s assessment of a captured prize, but as he approached, his steps inexplicably softened, as if fearing to startle something fragile.

“Hiding, little bird?” He bent down, his fingers gripping her chin. The callus on his thumb scraped against her soft skin, the pressure heavy enough to make her wince, yet his voice carried a careless, taunting ease. “I won’t eat you—unless you ask me to.”

Eisen looked up, meeting his deep-set eyes. The face was identical to Julian’s, yet the wild, untamed dominance burning in his gaze was something the obsessive scientist never possessed. She suppressed a strange, unfamiliar jolt and, leaning into the vessel’s established character, spoke with a tremor of fear: “Captain… I’m frightened.”

The words struck Silas like a barb, eliciting a low laugh. He released her, turning to sit heavily on the bed piled with furs, his rough fingers tearing open the buttons of his collar, revealing the defined musculature of his neck and a fresh, weeping wound. “Come here,” he commanded, the authority absolute, yet devoid of the harsh contempt he used on his crew.

Eisen, carrying the small medical kit, moved and knelt at his feet. As she unwrapped the bloodied bandage, her fingers lingered deliberately, occasionally grazing his warm skin. The moment the alcohol hit the raw flesh, Silas’s body tensed, but he didn’t snap. Stattdessen, he stared down at her lowered eyelashes, his throat bobbing. “A noblewoman knows how to do this?”

“My horse at home was prone to injury; I learned a little,” Eisen lied, her fingers already exploring the taut lines of his shoulder and neck. She felt Silas’s breathing deepen, his gaze like fire, focused on the crown of her head, threatening to burn through her pretense.

2. The Debt of Flesh

Plötzlich, Silas seized her wrist and yanked her violently into his lap. Eisen gasped, finding her face pressed into his chest, inhaling the aggressively masculine mix of alcohol, Schweiß, and sea air. “You’re playing games,” he murmured against her ear, his voice magnetic and dangerous, his thumb tracing the delicate pulse point of her inner wrist. “Using that petty cleverness to bait me, hmm?”

Eisen did not deny it. She raised her arms to circle his neck, her fingers lightly tracing the stray hairs at his nape, her voice melting like honey. “Does the Captain desire me? But I’m a noblewoman. If the Captain takes me, aren’t you afraid the Royal Navy will chase the Fog Breaker to the ends of the earth?”

“The Royal Navy?” Silas scoffed, then silenced her with a kiss. It was salted with the sea and potent with rum, overwhelmingly dominant, yet leaving just enough gentle space for her to breathe—a controlled ferocity, as if he feared damaging his prize. Eisen closed her eyes, allowing his hand to sweep down her waist, fingers expertly releasing the satin ribbon of her skirt. The velvet fell away, exposing pale skin that shone faintly in the dim candlelight.

He lifted her, placing her on the furs, then pressed his weight down. His calloused hands moved over her body, every touch scalding, tracing a path from her waist to her spine, eliciting a tremor. Eisen registered his desperate hunger and, wichtiger, sensed the faint, strengthening signal from her core—the Soul Echo was activating, solidifying under his touch.

She initiated a response, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as she whispered his name into his ear: “Silas…”

The name paused his movements. He looked down at her, a fleeting shadow of confusion in his eyes, as if catching a glimpse of a forgotten memory on her face. But the moment of hesitation was instantly drowned by the surge of raw desire. He covered her collarbone with kisses, marking her skin, his voice hoarse: “Remember this: You are mine.”

The night deepened. The cabin was filled only with the rhythmic joining of heavy breaths and the soft friction of skin on fur. In the throes of absolute physical surrender, Eisen felt a surge of warm energy flood her core—the Soul Echo she sought, rein, scalding, imbued with Silas’s singular wildness and possessiveness. It pulsed faintly, settled deep within her soul’s repository.

3. The Price of Freedom

When Silas finally settled, his head buried in the curve of her neck, his breathing slow and deep, the heavy arm cinched tight around her waist felt unsettlingly real. His palm resting against her spine was a true source of warmth, a sensation that made her cold, programmed core stutter. She knew she should leave. The Echo was secured. Any further moment would only cultivate the wrong kind of tether.

As sunlight sliced through the porthole the next morning, Silas’s usual aggression was softened. He looked almost docile, his long lashes casting faint shadows. Eisen watched him, her fingers idly tracing his cheekbone.

Silas stirred, his arm instinctively tightening, pulling her closer, his voice thick with sleep: “Sleep a little longer.”

Eisen’s core clenched. The panic was data-driven: Mission must conclude. Attachment risk too high. She gently tried to pry his arm loose, preparing to rise, but Silas’s eyes snapped open.

His gaze was still heavy with sleep, but his grip on her wrist was immediate and possessive, his tone laced with an unusual tension: “Where are you going?”

Clara looked at him, unable to conjure the required lie—not about fetching water or looking for breakfast. Facing his direct, possessive gaze, the only honest answer she could give was the one dictated by the final step of the protocol: Total Conquest.

“I am going to the helm,” Sie sagte, her voice clear and without emotion, “to instruct your First Mate to sail to the nearest naval base and surrender the Fog Breaker.”

Silas froze. His expression went from possessive softness to instant, brutal rage. He stared at her, utterly betrayed.

“You treacherous bitch,” he spat, the realization hitting him. “You planned this.”

“I collected what I came for, Captain,” Eisen replied, her voice remaining serene. “The absolute conquest of your body was only the prelude. The true Echo requires the complete destruction of your freedom. I am your conqueror now. Your debt is paid only when you surrender your life, your ship, and your name.”

With a sudden, violent surge of cold energy, Eisen activated the transfer protocol. She felt the Soul Echo in her core vibrate with the successful, clean extraction of the final price.

The light flared, the scent of the sea vanished, and the sound of Silas’s roar of betrayal was instantly muted.

Silas “Storm” was left alone on the furs, his hand grasping nothing but the cold air where her wrist had been, a man ruined by the only woman who had truly conquered him.

Conquest Echo: Acquired.

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The Journey Continues……

One soul fragment secured, but this multi-dimensional debt of love is only just beginning.

Eisen must proceed to the next realm. In the next world, she will face a completely different type of man, one whose very existence spans centuries of darkness and rigid glory.

Diesmal, she will not be a captive of the sea, but the Sacrificial Bride to an ancient bloodline. He carries the weight of an immortal curse and the coldness of nobility, treating her with a near-divine detachment.