Arthur woke up with his body aching in a strange way.
It was not the pain of a blow or of exertion.
It was a diffuse sensation, as if the skin were too tight in certain places and too sensitive in others.
He opened his eyes and remained still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the first sounds of the house.
Brandt had already gone downstairs.
Ysolde was moving pots in the kitchen.
Tessa was muttering something from her room.
He sat up slowly.
The nightshirt clung to him differently.
The fabric, even though light, felt too present against his chest and hips.
He ran a hand over his face and immediately felt the difference: the skin was even smoother than he remembered, the features under his fingers seemed to have lost further definition.
The sweet scent filled the room clearly, almost heavily.
He got up and went to the mirror.
What he saw forced him to stay still for a long time.
The face had lost almost all of the lean hardness of before.
The cheeks were fuller, the jaw less sharp, the lips slightly fuller.
The eyes—one light grey and one violet—stood out even more against the skin that had become evenly fair and perfect.
He shifted the shirt aside.
The chest was no longer just “slightly swollen.” There was a clear curve, small but unmistakable.
Breasts were beginning to form in earnest.
The hips had a softer, more pronounced line.
The abdomen was smooth, without the slightest trace of the old imperfections.
Even the thighs, when he turned sideways, seemed to have acquired a new softness.
He was still recognizable as Arthur.
But he was becoming less and less masculine.
He touched his chest with the tips of his fingers and had to hold back a shiver.
The sensitivity was extremely high.
Even light pressure was enough to trigger a reaction he did not want.
He opened the Status.
[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: 52%]
Still 52%.
It had not risen during the night.
But the changes left by the evening with Kael were more than enough.
He chose the loosest shirt he had, arranged it so as not to emphasize the chest, and added a light jacket even though it would be hot in the shop.
He looked at his reflection one last time, trying to convince himself that, when dressed, little was still noticeable.
Then he went downstairs.
Breakfast was an exercise in control.
Ysolde set the usual soup in front of him and watched him while he ate.
“You slept badly again,” she said.
It was not a question.
Arthur shook his head.
“A bit.
Nothing serious.”
Tessa, sitting across from him, eyed him suspiciously.
“You’ve got a strange face.
And you smell… different.
Kind of sweet.
Did you put something new on?”
Arthur felt his stomach tighten.
He lowered his gaze to the bowl.
“Maybe the soap.
We got a different one.”
Tessa did not seem convinced, but she did not insist.
Brandt came in, sat down, and spoke only of the day’s work.
Arthur answered in monosyllables, trying not to draw attention.
Every time he moved, he felt the fabric of the shirt rubbing against the newly formed chest, and he had to make an effort not to react.
In the shop it was worse.
The heat of the forge made everything more difficult.
He sweated, and the sweet scent seemed to intensify with the heat.
He worked with his head down, focusing only on the tools, avoiding raising his gaze too much when customers entered.
Every time someone approached the counter, Arthur took a small step back, maintaining a prudent distance.
Mid-morning Tessa came up to him while he was sharpening a blade.
“Brother.”
He raised his eyes cautiously.
“Are you really okay?
For a few days now you’ve been… weird.
Mom noticed it too.”
Arthur clenched his teeth.
“I’m fine.
Just tired.”
Tessa stared at him for another moment, then sighed.
“If you have a problem you can tell me, you know.
Even if it’s something stupid.”
“I know.”
She stayed there a few more seconds, as if she wanted to add something, then shook her head and went back to her place.
Arthur drew a slow breath, trying to calm his heartbeat.
The fabric of the shirt clung to his sweaty chest, and every movement reminded him how much he had changed.
The afternoon passed slowly and tensely.
An elderly customer stopped to chat longer than usual, and Arthur had to remain close to him for several minutes while explaining an order.
The man did not seem to notice anything particular, but Arthur could feel the sweet scent spreading in the hot air of the shop and feared that at any moment someone would make a comment.
No one did.
And yet the paranoia did not lessen.
When the day finally ended, Arthur was the first to go up to his room.
He closed the door, took off the jacket and shirt, and stood in front of the mirror again.
In the candlelight the changes were even more evident.
The chest had a clear shape, small but unmistakable.
The hips curved softly.
The skin was perfect, without flaws.
And the scent, now that he was alone and without the forge smoke to cover it, filled the room.
He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands over his face.
Kael was gone.
He had not seen her again after that evening, and probably would not see her again.
She had been only a passage.
A moment of loss of control that had cost him nineteen percentage points and another clear step toward something he could no longer stop.
Now only he remained, his body that kept changing, and the need to pretend every day that nothing was happening.
He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow he would have to do it all over again: dress in a way that hid, speak little, keep his distance, hope that no one noticed the scent or the different shape under the clothes.
And know that, with every day that passed, pretending would only become harder.
He closed his eyes.
The secret still held.
But for how much longer, he did not know.