Female knights stood guard before the doors of my mother’s study. The pronounced curves of their breastplates advertised generous assets, though the armour could have been exaggerating; medieval knights in my world had done much the same with oversized codpieces, turning fashion into a display of power. This was my first glimpse of the militaristic side of this world, and never had the gulf between our realities seemed wider. A wealthy household, perhaps. A government agency, plausibly. But these women wore marvels of modern engineering shaped in the image of full plate from the late Middle Ages. Runic patterns, etched with post-industrial precision, glowed around the edges of each plate. For a moment, I wondered whether they were merely suits of armour displayed for some eccentric bachelor. Then one shifted—barely, but enough to prove someone was alive beneath it.
The runic script formed an aesthetically pleasing design, though it did nothing to make the mundane shape of the armour look less impractical for combat with cold weapons. Its glow, however, suggested that the markings served a practical purpose. The suits looked as though they had come straight from Tony Stark’s armoury, with traces of mechanical enhancement and servos concealed beneath neatly fitted modular plates. Mother was supposedly a metahuman, yet until now all the supernatural and fantastical parts of this world had remained outside the house. Well, apart from the stray tachyon beam, but that was a moot point.
We stepped inside, Jodie taking the lead. “Greetings Samantha Greenwood. Sophia Greenwood.” Jodie bowed shallowly.
Huh? My gaze snapped to the girl in question, and heat rushed into my face when she looked straight back at me. Sophia Greenwood. My supposed fiancée. For a moment, my mouth went dry. Her crystal-blue eyes held mine—not cold and indifferent as they had been at school, but curious. Interested. Then Mom’s hand pressed lightly against my back. “Come now, son. Don’t be shy.” I caught the sly smile at the corner of her mouth. The revelation that the most beautiful girl at school was standing in my mother’s office had frozen me in place, but the interest in Sophia’s expression steadied me. A tentative smile crept across my face.
“Lady Greenwood,” I said, stepping forward and offering her my hand. “You may recognise my face, but I hope Mother has explained the events of this morning to you.” I felt a little stiff, but once the conversation began to flow, that should pass.
Sophia hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering her hand for me to shake. Not today, missy. I had a woman to win. I caught her fingers, soft and calloused at once—a strange combination, but not an unpleasant one. Before she could question me or withdraw, I gently turned her hand so the back faced upward. Keeping eye contact, I bowed and raised it towards my lips, trying to channel my hunger for her into my gaze. My lips met her smooth skin: a kiss, a lingering taste, then a graceful release. “Lady Sophia, it is my pleasure to finally meet you.”
Her face did not bloom with colour, but a faint blush touched her cheeks. It had been there since we made eye contact, barely visible beneath her composure, but my greeting deepened it enough to crack her exterior shell. A way in, perhaps, though it was too little to mean much yet.
I couldn’t say she was into me. I could say she liked what she saw.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Jason.” She hesitated, plainly unsure whether she ought to return the gesture, so I released her hand before the moment became awkward.
“My apologies, Lady Sophia, it seems I have already introduced a culture clash in our first greeting.”
“No offence was taken, Lord Jason. Though I suspect learning one another’s customs may prove rather more interesting than either of us expected.” Sophia composed herself properly.
I held Sophia’s gaze a heartbeat too long before forcing myself to move on. If I kept staring at Sophia, I was going to forget there were other people in the room—and Mom had already warned me that Duchess Catherine would be the greatest hurdle to keeping the engagement intact. I turned to Duchess Samantha and corrected the mistake I had already made. By the standards of my own world, seniority alone meant I should have greeted her first. Still, perhaps Samantha would forgive the lapse when she realised it had happened only because I was so plainly smitten with her daughter.
“Duchess Samantha,” I said, offering my hand. “Please forgive me for not greeting you first. It will not happen again.”
She accepted it with the polished calm of someone deciding whether I was ignorant, insolent, or dangerous. I bowed over her hand and gave the back of it a brief, proper peck. Nothing lingering. Nothing hungry. Nothing like the liberty I had taken with Sophia’s hand a moment ago. That had been for Sophia. This was for her mother: an apology dressed as etiquette and, hopefully, proof that the customs of my world were not nearly as bold or promiscuous as I had made them appear in my eagerness to impress her daughter.
“Think nothing of it, young master Jason. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Samantha smiled, though the expression did not travel far. “Your mother has told me about the traumatic incident this morning.”
Duchess Samantha was beautiful, I could admit that, but she did not have the paralysing effect her daughter had on me. That made it easier to keep my footing. “Honestly, Duchess Samantha, the incident itself felt negligible at the time. I woke to a flash of green light, but it was over so quickly that I thought I had imagined it. Since I had planned to get up early for mountain biking, I simply went back to sleep.”
I caught the slightest shift in her expression and realised too late that “simply went back to sleep” might not have been the reassuringly masculine answer I had intended. In her world, a young lord caught in a supernatural event was probably expected to be shaken, grateful for protection, and willing to let the women around him handle the danger. Instead, I had made it sound as though I had shrugged off a cosmic accident because I had exercise plans.
So I tried to soften the answer before she decided I was completely unmanageable. “The consequences are frightening, of course. I understand that better now than I did when I woke up. But this family has treated me with kindness and given me every reason to believe I’m safe here.” I glanced towards Mother, then back to the Duchess. “The Jason sent to my world doesn’t have that certainty yet. I trust my parents to help him, but until I know he’s safe, it feels wrong to talk as though I’m the only victim.”
Mother stepped away from the front of her desk and indicated the chairs arranged before it. “Let us sit. We will accomplish more if everyone is comfortable.” Mom moved with me, taking the chair beside mine, while Sophia and Samantha settled opposite us. Mother returned to the other side of the desk but remained standing until the rest of us were seated, then lowered herself into her chair. The brief rearrangement took the edge from the room and gave Samantha a natural moment to gather her thoughts.
Once everyone was settled, she folded her hands in her lap and looked back to me. “Your concern for our Jason does you credit,” she said, returning to the matter at hand, “but concern alone cannot answer what this incident means for you, for him, or for the engagement.”
I rested my elbows on the armrests and brought my hands together, trying for thoughtful rather than confrontational. “Then tell me, Duchess—are you more concerned about what happened this morning, or about how little progress the former Jason made with Sophia before it happened?” I glanced towards Sophia, then back to Samantha. “I’ve spent the last hour reading his diary and a few of his chat conversations. I don’t know everything that passed between them, but I know six months of engagement brought them no closer to marriage.”
Beside me, Mom shifted almost imperceptibly. Her hand tightened on the armrest before she forced her fingers to relax. She said nothing, but the warning in her glance was unmistakable: Do not tell them.
I met her eyes for a heartbeat and gave the slightest shake of my head. Whatever else I intended to expose, the former Jason’s private secret was not mine to share.
Samantha’s eyes narrowed—not with anger, but with renewed interest. “First that remarkably forward greeting with my daughter, and now this. I find it curious that the fairer sex of your world is so openly bold and confrontational.”
My hands lost their careful symmetry, one fingertip slipping from its counterpart. “Fairer sex?” The words escaped before I could stop them, and Samantha’s brow lifted at my obvious confusion. I glanced towards Mother, and Samantha’s gaze followed mine. Mother offered us only a playful smirk, clearly amused by something neither Sophia nor Samantha understood. Whatever explanation she had withheld, this was not the moment to drag it into the open. I rebuilt the steeple and returned my attention to Samantha. “Directness is not considered improper where I come from, Duchess. Though I admit I may be leaning on it rather heavily today. However, you haven’t actually answered my question. What do you seek from me to be a good match for your daughter?” Follow the newest chapters on novelping(.)com.
Samantha studied me for several seconds, apparently weighing the question more carefully than my manners. “I seek constancy, Lord Jason. Sophia does not need grand gestures made in the heat of first attraction; she needs a partner who will still choose her when novelty has become familiarity.” Her gaze flicked briefly towards her daughter before returning to me. “Our Jason was courteous and dutiful, but after six months, their engagement remained an arrangement between families rather than a relationship between two people. If you intend to be a good match for Sophia, then show me that your boldness is more than momentary enthusiasm. Learn who she is, earn her trust, and give her reason to believe that you will not retreat when courtship requires patience rather than spectacle.” She paused, the faintest suggestion of approval touching her expression. “Your directness may prove useful. Whether it also proves dependable remains to be seen.”
I held Samantha’s gaze for another moment, then nodded. “So: show up, keep showing up, and don’t mistake one good first impression for a relationship. Understood.” I settled back in the chair. “I can’t prove any of that in one conversation, Duchess, but I can start by giving Sophia the chance to decide whether she enjoys my company when neither of our mothers is directing the exchange.”
Sophia’s attention sharpened. Samantha regarded me in silence, but she did not object. That was permission enough for a beginning.
I rose and crossed to Mother’s desk, holding out my hand. “Card, please.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow.
“A small plastic rectangle linked to money,” I said. “Unless this world has somehow mastered runic power armour while retaining the barter system.”
A small laugh slipped from Sophia before she could suppress it. A quiet satisfaction warmed my chest; I had made her laugh. When I caught her eye and gave her a wink, she quickly averted her gaze, though not before I saw the last trace of amusement soften her composure.
Mother looked from my open palm to my face. “I know what a card is. Why do you need money?”
“Well, mainly to take Sophia on a date. But I need new clothes as well, remember?” I answered plainly.
“Ja—Lord Jason, it would not be proper for you to pay for a date with me,” Sophia interjected.
I turned towards Sophia and offered both hands. When she placed hers in mine, I held her gaze. “Sophia, I understand that I will eventually need to adapt to this world’s customs. For now, would you indulge me in following one from mine?”
The scent of freshly baked cookies strengthened as I stood so close to Sophia. Had she been sneaking biscuits before the meeting? The thought drew a smile from me, though there was no trace of crumbs on her lips or dress.
Sophia studied me while I attempted my best impression of pleading innocence. The crack in her defences widened as colour warmed her cheeks. “Very well, Lord Jason. I will indulge your custom this once, but understand that allowing a man to pay for me will be profoundly uncomfortable.”
The scent of freshly baked cookies drifted through the room again. I glanced towards the desk, half expecting to find a plate hidden among the papers, but there was nothing there. A moment later, something sweeter threaded through it—vanilla, perhaps, or warm caramel. Strange. Either Mother’s study was located suspiciously close to the kitchen, or this house had the most convincing air fresheners ever made.
“Duly noted.” I turned back to Mother and held out my palm. “Then I believe this is the part where you lend me a card.”
“Jason, we have credit cards.”
“Great. Gimme.” I held out my palm. Catherine sighed, retrieved a card from her desk, and placed it in my hand before glancing towards Samantha.
Samantha intercepted Catherine’s glance. “If Sophia has agreed, I will not object to a single outing conducted according to your customs. But, Lord Jason, you have spoken at length about what you intend to prove to me. You have not yet asked Sophia what concerns she carries into this engagement.”
I folded my arms and leaned against Mother’s desk. “That’s exactly why I want to speak with Sophia without both families watching us like a treaty negotiation, Duchess. If this engagement is going to become a healthy relationship, we need enough privacy to say what we want and what worries us before our parents answer for us.”
Samantha’s expression tightened. In asking for privacy, I had challenged the one safeguard she appeared determined to preserve: her ability to supervise how the engagement developed.
“Very well,” Samantha said at last. “You may have your privacy, but do not mistake it for freedom from responsibility. Sophia’s comfort comes before proving any point to me.”
“Where I come from, freedom and responsibility are synonymous, Duchess. One means very little without the other.” I pushed away from Mother’s desk and offered Sophia my hand. “Shall we?”
Sophia took my hand and planted her other hand on the armrest, bracing herself to rise. Before she could push, I drew her smoothly to her feet with one arm. Despite my being visibly more muscular than the former Jason, the ease of it still seemed to startle her. “After you, my lady.” I gestured towards the doors, inviting her to lead the way. Visit novelping(.)com for the full chapter.
“One moment,” Samantha said. “Who will be accompanying you?”
I stopped with my hand still around Sophia’s. “Accompanying us?”
Samantha looked past me to Mother. “Surely the Henderson household was not about to allow its young lord to leave on an unchaperoned courtship outing. I am surprised no escort was offered before they reached the door.”
Mother’s expression tightened. “Of course not. Jodie will accompany them.” Mom gave her a shallow nod, apparently accepting the appointment before I had processed it.
“It’s a date,” I said. “Privacy is generally considered part of the package.”
Sophia squeezed my hand cautiously. “Not here, Lord Jason. Not if we wish to return without both our reputations in ruins.”
I looked from her to our mothers, then to Mom. “Fine. One chaperone—but supervision had better not mean joining the conversation.”
“Agreed,” Mom said. Her gaze travelled over me, and amusement touched the corner of her mouth. “But you are not leaving like that. I walked in on you exercising earlier, remember? You need a shower and a change of clothes before you go anywhere near your date.”
I looked down at myself. “Right. So my date requires an escort, formal approval, and a wardrobe inspection.”
Sophia’s composure cracked into a small smile. “Welcome to courtship, Lord Jason.”
As we approached, the guards stationed outside opened the doors for us. Before we crossed the threshold, Samantha called after me, amusement sharpening her voice. “The customs of your world are strange indeed, Lord Jason.”
I glanced back at Samantha with a smirk. “I could say the same about yours, Duchess.” I gave her a parting wink, then followed Sophia and mom through the doorway as the doors closed behind us.
***
Once the doors closed, Samantha turned on Catherine. “Enough games. I indulged you in front of the children, but I won’t be made a fool now that we’re alone.”
“He isn’t the ‘fairer sex’ in his world, Samantha. Women are.” Catherine smiled as an email from Abigale arrived on the laptop, then turned the screen towards her. The report confirmed that Jason had unusually high testosterone, strength, and physical conditioning compared with men in this world. It also confirmed that he was fertile with women here. Catherine read the findings as biological support for the reversal she had already observed in his behaviour.
“And the bloodline?” Samantha asked, leaning in to study the file. “The displacement didn't compromise his genetic pedigree?”
“He is biologically identical,” Catherine confirmed, tapping a key. “Mitochondrial markers match, he’s a pure blooded Meta gene carrier. The dormant meta genes are completely intact. The only difference is how much stronger and assertive he is. Well, he did explain to me that, that was normal for his world. What appeared shockingly forward to us was, by the standards he grew up with, recognisably masculine behaviour.” Catherine leaned back with a smirk. “Abigale requested a sample for the fertility test; I sent her and Jason up to his room. Of course, I sent Jodie up after to keep an eye on things. She told me she watched Jason push her on the bed, take her from behind. Domination, Assertiveness and care that is expected of women, displayed by him. While Abigale seemed to have slipped naturally into the more receptive role we’d expect of men.”
Samantha read the report twice, one eyebrow rising as disbelief gave way to understanding. “Reversed morality—and his biology supports it.” She settled back into the armchair, amusement creeping into her voice “First day here and he’s already fucked his Liaison officer.” She anticipated Catherine’s answer but asked anyway. “And you didn’t think to warn Sophia?”
Catherine shrugged with a grin. “Let her discover his… proclivity for herself. After all, you complained that my son showed too little interest.”
Samantha covered her face as a tortured laugh escaped her. “What a lucky little bitch.” The humour faded into a sigh. “Sorry, Cathy. You’ve been through so much today, and I’ve done nothing but make it harder. I don’t even know how you’re coping.”
Catherine leaned back in her chair. “Honestly, Sam, you being hard on me has kept me grounded. And Jason…” She paused. She’d been skimming the report herself when something caught her eye. A deep frown formed between her brows as her eyes fixed on a pulsating amber spike in his neuro-meta metrics.
Samantha caught the sudden shift. “Catherine? What is it?”
Catherine tapped the touchpad, double-checking the reading before looking up, genuine bewilderment in her voice. “The report… his dormant genes aren't staying quiet. They believe the Tachyon particles might have caused cellular stress and seem to have triggered a cascade. Some of his dormant meta-genes are starting to activate.”
Samantha stared at her in silence for a beat, processing the gravity of that revelation.