Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 390: FAVOURED SON

"Hah. So much to do in order to perfectly integrate into my new position," Nick sighed in tiredness.

He leaned back in the high-backed chair of his newly claimed office, the vast chamber overlooking the glittering expanse of Aiz’s central districts. Holographic displays floated around him like obedient constellations, each one scrolling with endless reports, requisitions, and security briefings. The soft violet light filtering through the panoramic windows painted his features in cool tones, accentuating the subtle scales along his jaw and the faint weariness tugging at the corners of his eyes. Already, the thrill of conquest had dulled into the monotonous grind of governance.

"Quite the pretty face you have despite being tired," a soft, enchanting voice reached the ears of Nick.

The words drifted through the air like silk brushing skin—low, melodic, carrying an undercurrent of amusement and unmistakable power. Nick turned his head toward the window pane of his office.

There, perched confidently on the narrow ledge as though gravity were merely a suggestion, sat a beautiful, breathtaking lady. Her long hair cascaded in waves of midnight black threaded with crimson highlights that caught the starlight like liquid fire. Skin pale as moonlit marble glowed faintly, and her eyes—deep, molten gold with vertical pupils—held the kind of ancient knowing that could unsettle even the most hardened soul. She wore flowing garments of shadow-silk that seemed to drink in the light, shifting between opaque darkness and translucent hints of infernal flame. One leg dangled casually over the edge, the other bent beneath her, posture relaxed yet radiating the effortless dominance of someone who ruled entire realms.

"Mom," Nick said, all too familiar with the lady sitting on the window pane.

His tone carried a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection. He straightened in his chair, the tiredness in his expression giving way to wary alertness.

She was a princess of hell, and ruler of the fourth realm of hell.

Lilith.

The name alone carried weight across dimensions—mother, manipulator, monarch. Her presence filled the office like perfume laced with brimstone: intoxicating, dangerous, impossible to ignore. She tilted her head slightly, a slow, predatory smile curving her lips as she studied her son with those ancient, golden eyes.

"Still playing at politics, my little serpent?" she murmured, voice smooth and teasing. "I thought you’d be enjoying the throne more by now."

Nick exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a hiss.

"Enjoyment can wait," he replied. "First I have to make sure no one tries to take it from me."

Lilith laughed softly—a sound like distant thunder wrapped in velvet. She slid down from the window pane with impossible grace, bare feet touching the floor without sound. The air around her seemed to warm, carrying faint traces of sulfur and blooming nightshade.

"Then let me help you keep it," she said, stepping closer. Her gaze flicked toward the door, as though already sensing the currents of ambition and resentment swirling through the capital. "After all... family should always watch each other’s backs."

Nick met her eyes. For a moment, the room felt smaller, the weight of her presence pressing in. Then he gave a slow nod.

"Very well," he said. "But remember, Mother—this is my province now."

Lilith’s smile widened, sharp and approving.

"Of course it is, darling," she purred. "For as long as you can hold it."

"Oh come on," Lilith said sweetly.

"I had to see my favourite child after hearing he had achieved quite the feat of becoming governor of a province this quickly."

She moved from the window pane with languid grace, her shadow-silk garments whispering against the air like a lover’s sigh.

The faint crimson threads in her hair caught the violet glow of Aiz’s eternal twilight, shimmering as though lit from within by infernal fire.

She settled into the empty chair across from her son, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate elegance.

Her crimson eyes, molten and amused fixed on Nick with a loving gaze laced with faint mischief, the kind that had toppled kingdoms and broken hearts for millennia.

"Come on, Mum," Nick replied, rolling his eyes.

"I’m not naive. I know you had a hand in me becoming governor of this province. Only you could pull it off."

He leaned back in his chair, the holographic displays around him flickering faintly as though recoiling from her presence.

"And I’m not your favourite child. Jeremy is."

Lilith’s lips curved into a teasing smile, sharp and knowing.

"Don’t tell me you’re jealous of your brother," she purred, tilting her head slightly, letting a single lock of midnight hair fall across her shoulder like spilled ink.

"I’m not," Nick said calmly.

"If I were a mother, I would love him more too. He has higher blood purity than me, he’s stronger, and above all, he has a better background than me."

He listed the reasons with quiet, matter-of-fact precision, each one delivered without heat, as though stating simple facts of the universe.

Yet the faint tightening of his jaw betrayed the old wound beneath the composure.

"Oh, come on," Lilith soothed, waving a manicured hand dismissively.

The motion stirred the air, carrying a subtle scent of night-blooming jasmine laced with brimstone.

"Don’t let that get to you. You are still my favourite. Besides, I don’t have nearly as much contact with him as I do with you."

"That’s because his father won’t allow it," Nick pointed out, voice dry.

Lilith sighed, a theatrical sound that somehow managed to be both exasperated and affectionate.

"Sigh. Mean Zeus won’t even let me see my own son."

She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the polished obsidian desk between them.

"Well, enough of that. Tell me, son, how is your new position treating you?"

"As you can see?" Nick gestured at the swirling holograms and the faint shadows of exhaustion under his eyes.

"I’m tired. It’s all just an annoying duty. I wish I could give it up already. Plus, it doesn’t mean much if people still get to disrespect me."

Lilith’s expression shifted in an instant.

The playful mischief vanished, replaced by something colder, sharper, a glacial fury that made the temperature in the room drop perceptibly.

"Disrespect you?" she asked, voice low and dangerous. "Who dares disrespect the son of Lilith?"