The central commercial plaza was a sensory overload of flashing neon, holographic guild advertisements, and the endless, suffocating hum of thousands of people. But in that exact second, Ren's entire universe shrank to the ten feet of pristine pavement separating him from his oldest friend.
Bonnie stood perfectly still, a pair of synthetic grocery bags dangling from her hands. Her hazel eyes were wide, darting from the discarded, oversized canvas jacket draped over Ren's arm, to the cheap leather chest piece that did nothing to hide the preternatural, flawless glow of his skin, and finally, inevitably, resting on the cascading, glossy obsidian silk of his hair.
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped, panicked bird. The strawberry and vanilla scent of his morning skincare routine suddenly felt like a blaring siren.
"Bonnie," Ren choked out, his voice cracking violently. "What... what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the exact same thing," Bonnie said, her voice entirely devoid of its usual playful cadence. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her eyes narrowing with forensic intensity. "Ren. What is going on? And your hair..."
She dropped one of the bags. The plastic hit the pavement with a soft thud. She reached out, her calloused hunter's fingers hovering inches from the thick, lustrous strands resting against his collarbone.
"Did you take out a loan?" she whispered, genuine fear creeping into her tone. "Ren, tell me you didn't go to one of those black-market flesh-weavers. If you took an illegal enhancement stim to raise your stats, the Guild Association will execute you. What did you do to yourself?"
"No! Nothing like that!" Ren scrambled backwards, frantically trying to shove his hair back under the moth-eaten beanie, but the sheer volume of the glossy strands made it impossible. He settled for throwing the heavy canvas jacket back over his shoulders, wincing as the rough fabric scraped against his hyper-sensitive skin. "I just... I'm testing out a new cosmetic alchemical potion for a guild sponsor! It pays well. I needed the credits for Sierra, I swear!"
Bonnie's jaw set into a hard, unforgiving line. "A cosmetic trial? For E-ranks? That doesn't even make sense. Ren, you look like a completely different—"
The air between them shattered.
It didn't tear, or rip. It shattered with the ear-splitting sound of breaking glass, accompanied by a shockwave of localized gravity inversion that knocked Ren flat onto his back.
The emergency klaxons of the commercial district screamed to life, bathing the plaza in a harsh, pulsing crimson light. Pedestrians shrieked, scattering in a blind panic, trampling each other to escape the epicenter of the plaza.
Where the pristine pavement had been just seconds before, a jagged, weeping fissure in reality hung suspended in the air.
[SYSTEM WARNING]
[UNSCHEDULED DIMENSIONAL BREACH DETECTED.]
[ENTITY CLASSIFICATION: C-RANK (VOID-STALKER MIDWIFE)]
A massive, multi-jointed limb ending in a vicious, serrated scythe pierced through the purple tear. The beast hauled itself into the material world. It was a nightmare of chitin and shadow, resembling a praying mantis the size of a delivery truck, its exoskeleton pulsing with sickly, corrosive green veins.
"Ren! Move!" Bonnie roared, her civilian demeanor instantly vanishing.
She kicked her remaining grocery bag away and slammed her hands against the magnetic clasps at her waist. In a flash of digitized light, her heavy Vanguard shield and broadsword materialized from her spatial inventory. She threw herself between Ren and the beast just as the Void-Stalker lunged, its scythe-like arm crashing into her shield with the force of a localized bomb.
The impact sent a shockwave through the pavement, cracking the concrete. Bonnie grunted, her boots skidding backward, but the line held.
"Get out of here!" Bonnie screamed over her shoulder, her muscles straining against the immense weight of the beast. "It's a C-rank! You can't even scratch it! Run!"
Ren scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. He was E-rank. His male stats were abysmal. A single glancing blow from that monster would cut him in half. The rational, survival-driven part of his brain screamed at him to activate his skill.
Transformation.
If he transformed into Carmine right now, he would hit B-rank. He would have the speed, the claws, the shadow-stepping evasion to tear this insect apart in seconds. He could save Bonnie. He could save the civilians trapped beneath the collapsed food stalls.
But if he did it, Bonnie would see.
She would see the golden light. She would see his body contort, his hips widen, his chest swell. She would see the lethal, breathtaking succubus taking his place. His secret—the taboo, humiliating, life-stealing truth of his existence—would be exposed to the one person he desperately wanted to keep it from, right in the middle of a plaza covered in Guild Association surveillance cameras. He would be classified as a monster. He would be hunted.
He couldn't do it.
The Void-Stalker shrieked, a sound like grinding metal, and raised its second scythe to decapitate Bonnie while she was pinned.
Ren didn't think. He drew his rusty dagger, his pathetically inadequate E-rank weapon, and charged.
He expected to be too slow. He expected his legs to feel like lead, just as they always did. But as he sprinted across the cracked pavement, something impossible happened. He was moving faster. Not just a little faster—his footing was unnaturally precise, his balance flawless.
Beneath his heavy leather armor and rough cotton shirt, the burgundy poly-silk clung to his skin. It didn't chafe. It moved with frictionless, maddening perfection, supporting his core and optimizing his kinetic output. The +2 Agility the system had brutally forced upon him was actively keeping him alive.
Ren slid under the monster's blind spot, his knees scraping against the asphalt. He drove his rusty dagger upward, aiming for the soft, glowing green tissue between the beast's armored joints.
The blade sank in up to the hilt.
The Void-Stalker screeched in agony, its attention snapping away from Bonnie. It thrashed wildly, its massive, bladed hind leg kicking out with blinding speed.
Ren tried to twist away, relying on the silk-enhanced agility, but he was still fundamentally an E-ranker in a C-rank fight. The bladed leg caught him in the ribs.
The kinetic force threw Ren through the air like a discarded ragdoll. He slammed into the shattered remains of a holographic billboard, his vision exploding into starbursts of white-hot agony.
He hit the ground gasping, tasting copper. His entire left side was on fire. He instinctively clutched his ribs, terrified of what he would find.
His hand met torn leather.
The beast's claw hadn't cut deep into his flesh, thanks to the angle of his dodge, but it had utterly shredded his armor. The boiled leather chest piece was sliced completely in half down his left flank. The cheap cotton shirt beneath it was ruined.
Through the jagged, gaping tear in his clothes, the cool afternoon air brushed against his skin.
And against the delicate, intricate black lace of the burgundy silk undergarment clinging tightly to his ribs.
Pure, unadulterated terror—colder and sharper than the physical pain—spiked in Ren's chest. If Bonnie looked at him. If anyone looked closely at the wound...
"Hold the line!" a voice thundered from above.
Ren looked up through his blurry, pain-filled vision to see a squad of three high-ranking Guild Enforcers dropping from the rooftops. They were clad in top-tier, glowing mana-forged armor. Before the Void-Stalker could recover, a barrage of high-density kinetic spells and heavy artillery fire completely obliterated the beast, reducing it to a smoking crater of green ichor and shattered chitin.
The breach collapsed on itself, sealing with a final, wet popping sound.
The plaza fell into a stunned, ringing silence, broken only by the groans of the injured and the wail of approaching medical drones.
"Ren!"
Bonnie's voice cut through the haze. Ren's head snapped up. She was sprinting toward him, her shield already dismissed, her face pale with terror. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to check his wounds.
"Ren, oh my god, you got hit. Let me see, move your hand—"
"I'm fine!" Ren shouted, his voice shrill with panic.
He violently slapped her hands away, curling into a tight ball. Despite the agonizing pain in his bruised ribs, he grabbed the heavy, sweltering canvas jacket he had dropped earlier and yanked it over his shoulders, zipping it all the way up to his chin in one frantic, desperate motion.
Bonnie recoiled, hurt and confusion warring on her face. "Ren, what is wrong with you? You took a direct hit from a C-rank! Your armor is shredded! Let me use a minor heal—"
"I said I'm fine!" Ren practically snarled, forcing himself to his feet. His vision swam, and his side screamed in protest, but the fear of exposure was a far stronger adrenaline. He couldn't let her see the lace. He couldn't let her see the foundation garments his parasitic system was forcing him to wear. "It was a glancing blow. The leather took the brunt of it. I have to go."
"Go?! You need to see a guild medic!"
"I can't afford a guild medic, Bonnie!" Ren spat, using the easiest, most painful truth available to him. "If they scan my ID, they'll charge my account for the emergency extraction. I just got enough to pay for Sierra's books. I am not losing it to a hospital bill."
Bonnie stared at him, utterly helpless against the brutal economic reality of the lower-tier hunters. "Ren... please."
"I'm going home. Don't follow me," Ren said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I mean it, Bon. Just... leave it alone."
He turned and limped away into the gathering crowd, pulling the beanie low over his impossibly perfect hair, leaving his oldest friend kneeling in the rubble.
The two-mile walk back to the lower district was a descent into a localized hell. Every step sent a jolt of fire through his bruised ribs. The heavy canvas jacket turned into a sauna, but he refused to unzip it, terrified that a stray gust of wind would expose the torn leather and the burgundy silk beneath.
By the time he reached his apartment building, the sun had set, casting the gritty, trash-strewn streets in deep shadows. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
He unlocked the door with trembling, blood-stained fingers. The apartment was mercifully empty. Sierra was likely at the library, and his father was already at the warehouse.
Ren stumbled into his partitioned room, locked the deadbolt, and collapsed onto the lumpy mattress. He couldn't even bring himself to take off his boots. He just lay there in the dark, gasping for air, the agony in his side radiating through his entire body.
He had survived. His secret was safe. But his male body was fundamentally broken.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
The blue light illuminated the cramped room, casting harsh shadows across Ren's pale, sweat-slicked face.
[HOST HAS SUSTAINED CRITICAL KINETIC TRAUMA TO THE BASE MALE FORM.]
[THE HOST'S CURRENT HEALTH IS IN CRITICAL CONDITION.]
[WARNING: WITHOUT INTERVENTION, THE HOST'S MALE BODY WILL SUFFER PERMANENT TISSUE SCARRING, DAMAGING THE AESTHETIC FOUNDATION REQUIRED FOR THE SUCCUBUS FORM.]
"Shut up," Ren coughed, tasting blood. "Just... leave me alone. I don't have the credits for a potion."
[THE SYSTEM PROVIDES FOR ITS OWN. A SPECIAL PROMOTIONAL ITEM HAS BEEN UNLOCKED IN THE SYSTEM SHOP TO AID IN THE HOST'S RECOVERY.]
Another, smaller window popped up next to the first.
[SYSTEM SHOP PROMOTION: ONE-TIME OFFER]
[ITEM: 'SWEET DREAMS' RECOVERY PAJAMAS (HOT PINK)]
[DESCRIPTION: A remarkably plush, heavily insulated two-piece sleepwear set designed for optimal feminine comfort. Woven with restorative mana-threads.]
[EFFECT: Restores 100% of missing HP form over an 8-hour sleep cycle. Erases all physical blemishes and scarring.]
[PRICE: 20 SYSTEM GOLD]
Ren stared at the floating image of the pajamas. They were undeniably, aggressively pink. The top was a silken camisole with delicate white lace trim, and the bottoms were loose, flowing satin shorts.
Twenty gold. It was practically free compared to the thousands of credits a real healing potion would cost. The system was deliberately pricing it low to eliminate any financial excuse he might have. It was forcing his hand.
Before he could even process the humiliation of buying them, a third, massive blue box expanded, accompanied by a cheerful, mocking chime.
[DAILY QUEST AVAILABLE: BEAUTY SLEEP]
[A succubus knows that true beauty and vitality are restored through proper rest in the proper attire. Sleeping in dirty, blood-stained armor is a disgrace to your potential.]
[TASK: Purchase the 'Sweet Dreams' Recovery Pajamas from the System Shop. The host must wear the complete set to sleep for a minimum of eight consecutive hours tonight.]
[REWARD: 100 EXP, +1 Charm, +1 Endurance.]
[FAILURE PENALTY: -50% Base Health Regeneration permanently. Imminent, severe scarring across the host's torso and face.]
Ren read the penalty. Permanent scarring. A permanent fifty percent debuff to his healing. It would end his career as a hunter entirely. He would never be able to scavenge again. His family would starve.
He lay there in the dark, the pain in his ribs pulsing in time with the flashing red warning light of the system prompt. He was trapped. He had fought a monster to keep his dignity intact in public, only to have the system strip it away in the privacy of his own bedroom.
Ren closed his eyes, a single, frustrated tear slipping down his unnaturally flawless cheek to soak into the filthy mattress.
"Damn you to hell," Ren whispered to the empty room.
Spoiler
I am still not sure about the dynamic I should adopt in the interactions with the father tbh.
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