Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 985: Becoming

Everything fell perfectly into place for her grand scheme.

It felt just like unveiling an alien to Earth's inhabitants, the one they always believed was out there—except this time, it was agod, spotted by a handful of humans before she guaranteed the rest of the world would witness him too.

Then the eyewitness stories began emerging.

Folks who'd truly seen Eros up close. Face-to-face. Right there in Miami. Strolling the avenues alongside Amanda and his crew, drawing stares on walkways, causing vehicles to crawl not from jams but because motorists lost track of the road.

In restaurants. In hotel lobbies.

Wherever he'd shown up publicly, eyes had been on him, and now those observers had motivation to share.

They shared comments. They uploaded posts. They shot videos.

All those eyewitness tales shared one unscripted detail from ARIA: the bodily response. Each individual who'd met Eros in person reported the identical sensation—a warmth blooming in the chest, the aura of something otherworldly nearby, an instant when the atmosphere shifted.

They phrased it differently.

Some labeled it standing before something superhuman, divine allure. Others termed it sheer power.

One lady from a Miami store where he'd grabbed strawberry milk detailed it in her post as

A South Beach hotel concierge, where Eros had appeared with Ava post-Dmitri's demise, penned three full paragraphs on opening a door for him and struggling to focus through the remainder of his shift.

These weren't planted promotions. These came from real observers. And their stories swayed doubters quicker than any ad campaign.

One standout video exploded in popularity beyond anything Eros might've pushed—and it was purely spontaneous.

A bystander captured it on her phone, shaky and raw, with no hint it'd go viral. It depicted a grocery store. A lady at the register, her expression collapsing as she realized her cash fell short.

The queue behind her lengthening. Shoppers fidgeting impatiently.

A few grumbles. One guy—loud,—griped about the delay.

Then Eros intervened.

Effortlessly. Without rush. As if it required no thought. He simply stepped up next to her, passed his card to the clerk, covered the bill. No grand statements. No lingering for gratitude. No showboating. He just handled it, offered her a nice day, and proceeded.

What the lady couldn't have known was that Peter had endured a far harsher ordeal with Linda—this exact scenario had struck her when she left her wallet at home, and the line's folks had shamed her mercilessly with her son right beside her.

Watching her distress stirred old recollections, so he'd halted his milk purchase and stepped in to assist.

At his side, waiting calmly and just peeking into the shot's border, stood a lady whose features ARIA had blurred beyond recognition prior to the clip's public release.

She'd stated it with utmost clarity. Utterly precise, in her eerie, gentle tone that hit harder than any yell.

she’d instructed ARIA.

ARIA complied fully. Not merely due to Soo-Jin's wish. Because Soo-Jin issued commands disguised as polite asks.

More clips surfaced afterward. Additional instances. Fresh meetings. Eros—displaying genuine compassion unrelated to showmanship, rooted purely in the person he'd been prior to powers, prior to the System, prior to everything.

Opening doors.

ARIA amplified them all.

For this formed the other key element. His looks drew them near. His physique gripped their focus. Yet the compassion? The relatability? That authentic, courteous essence no one could counterfeit or purchase?

It kept them hooked.

It transformed fascination into devotion.

And devotion was precisely what ARIA cultivated.

To Peter's irritation, interview invites poured in relentlessly.

TV stations. Daytime programs. Nighttime slots. Cable culture spots. Podcasts from credible to comical. YouTube giants boasting tens of millions of followers. Print outlets. Online profiles. All craved Eros.

All chased those fifteen minutes.

All yearned to claim the premiere seat opposite him, firing off the queries already raging online.

ARIA tallied 2,847 official requests over four days. She sorted them by audience size, target viewers, slant, and tactical worth. Created a priority grid. Handed Peter the elite forty.

He eyed the lineup for a mere six seconds.

He rejected them outright.

All of them.

Not from hubris—though he could summon plenty if required.

Exclusivity reigned as the top asset in the attention marketplace, and ARIA had drilled that into him, or perhaps he'd sensed it instinctively and she'd merely named it.

Each refusal heightened their hunger. Their hunger elevated the prize of his eventual acceptance.

And that prized yes went solely to: Rivera Next Media.

His sole allied media powerhouse. That gleaming glass-and-steel skyscraper in central LA, emblazoned with the Rivera emblem from blocks distant—

The Empress Catalina’s domain. The media behemoth he'd opted to harness instead of starting anew. The lone channel he relied on to shape the story right—meaning precisely as ARIA had scripted it.

Even so, no live broadcast. Pre-recorded. Polished. Mastered. Each shot vetted before airing anywhere.

Peter had zero interest in live.

ARIA had outlined the interview blueprint already. Forty-seven queries. Fourteen greenlit. The others served as bait—ones the host would believe they'd selected independently, all guiding the dialogue straight to ARIA's desired storyline.

The host stayed oblivious. Felt like true reporting. Beamed with pride over their sharp probes.

Every probe had been crafted by an ASI surpassing humanity's grasp of its own mind.

Meanwhile, as ARIA battled silently for dominance over global attention span and Peter played ordinary guy on routine outings with his ladies, two jets underwent prepping for Paris.

The initial one idled on the apron at Lincoln Heights Airport. Streamlined. Exclusive. The sort absent from civilian trackers, as its elite proprietors favored discretion.

The other waited at the Ghost Mansion. Ready for him. And his full traveling party.

This jet stood apart.

And Paris—stunning, haughty, timeless Paris, convinced it'd witnessed it all—remained utterly clueless about the storm approaching.