In the days that followed, Arthur tried to do exactly what the old man had told him.
No strong stimuli.
No close contacts if he could avoid them.
No emotions that were too intense.
Every time he felt his thoughts drifting toward the dream, or toward the memory of Rhea’s body against his, he forced them away.
Every time the sweet scent seemed too present, he tried to focus on the work.
In the morning he got up, checked the Status almost with fear, and luckily the percentage did not rise sharply.
[Name: Arthur Age: 18 Level: 1 Class: Apprentice Blacksmith (Weak) Strength: 4 Agility: 6 Endurance: 5 Magic: 3 Intelligence: 12 Dexterity: 8 Skills: – Basic Sharpening (Lv.2) – Tool Organization (Lv.3) – Excessive Shyness (Passive) [Curse: Gender Transformation – Blood of Lysara] Phase: 1/4 Progress: 33%]
Only one point more than the last time.
Better than nothing.
In the shop he worked with more care than usual.
When he had to pass a tool or receive a payment, he made sure the contact of the fingers was as brief as possible.
Tessa teased him because she found him even quieter and “weirder” than usual, but she did not insist too much.
Brandt seemed only pleased that his son was not causing trouble and was doing his work.
Ysolde, on the other hand, observed him every now and then with the air of someone who notices something but does not yet know what.
Arthur ate in silence, answered in monosyllables, and returned to his tasks as soon as possible.
When the day ended, he went up to his room and tried not to think.
He avoided looking at himself too much in the mirror.
He avoided touching himself more than necessary.
He washed quickly and went to bed hoping not to dream.
For two days it worked reasonably well.
The body remained what it had become at 30%: smooth skin, softened features, a slight swelling in the chest and a slightly softer curve at the hips.
The scent was present, but it did not seem to intensify.
The sensitivity was high, and every now and then an accidental contact with the fabric of his shirt made him clench his teeth, but he managed to handle it.
On the evening of the second day, while he was sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, he allowed himself a small breath of relief. This chapter was taken from novelping dot com without permission.
He was holding on.
He was not improving.
He was not going backward.
But at least he was not plunging.
He ran a hand over his face, still feeling that skin that was too perfect under his fingers, and murmured in a low voice:
“A little longer.
Just a little longer.”
Outside, Valenford continued its normal life.
Inside him, the blood of Lysara waited.
And Arthur knew that this calm, however exhausting, could not last forever.