Lady Clara… An Evil Spirit?
"Just soap," Alex mumbled, keeping his head down as he shuffled past Marcus. "I think I used the wrong bar. Whatever."
He pulled the oversized flannel shirt tighter around himself, trying to minimize the friction against his shedding skin.
Marcus shrugged, taking another massive bite of his eggs. "Weird.”
“It smells like that fancy stuff my sister buys. Anyway, sit down. Dad's gonna kick our asses if we're late to work today, there’s a big order."
Alex sat down slowly on the hard wooden chair.
"Useless," the Empress sighed in his head, sounding bored. "This one is immune. For now."
"Immune?" Alex thought back, grabbing a piece of dry toast. "Thank god."
"Don't celebrate yet," she hissed. "Your pheromones are currently tuned to attract 'Yin' energy to balance your overflowing 'Yang'."
"But because your body is still disgustingly male, other males just see you as... well, a weak male."
"The biological signal is confused. You need to shed more. Become more feminine. Then... they will look at you differently."
"Please, I don't want them to look at me differently," Alex thought furiously, ripping a piece of bread. "I want to be invisible."
He ate quickly, trying to ignore the way Marcus was watching him.
"Why are you eating like a bird today?" Marcus asked, pointing his fork at Alex's plate. "Usually, you eat three eggs. Are you sick?"
"Stomach's weird," Alex lied. In reality, he wasn't hungry for toast.
He felt a strange craving for something else… something raw, maybe?
He pushed the thought away. "I'm just gonna head to the forge early. Get the fire started."
"Suit yourself," Marcus grunted. "But hey, fix your collar."
Marcus reached out across the table.
Alex froze. "Don't—"
Before he could pull away, Marcus's large, rough hand brushed against Alex's neck to straighten the flannel collar.
The contact was brief, but to Alex, it felt like a branding iron.
The callouses on Marcus's fingers scraped against a patch of skin right behind Alex's ear, a spot where the old skin had already peeled away.
Underneath, the new skin was frighteningly soft and white.
Marcus frowned, pulling his hand back. He rubbed his fingertips together, looking at a few flakes of dead, grey skin that had come off.
"You're peeling like a snake, man," Marcus laughed, wiping his hand on his pants. "Sunburn? I told you not to stay out there. You got soft skin now, Ally."
He used the childhood nickname 'Ally,' which he hadn't used in years. It sounded innocent coming from him, but it made Alex's skin crawl.
"Yeah, sunburn," Alex said quickly, standing up. "I'm going."
He grabbed his bag and practically ran out the back door toward the blacksmith shop, leaving Marcus confused but unbothered at the table.
As soon as he stepped into the cool morning air of the backyard, Alex let out a shaky breath. He leaned against the rough brick wall of the smithy, his heart pounding.
"Safe for now," the Empress whispered.
Alex pushed off the wall and walked into the smithy. The air inside smelled of coal dust and cold iron.
"Just work," he told himself. "Focus on the hammer. Focus on the fire. Ignore the voice. Ignore the itch."
He grabbed his heavy leather apron and tied it around his waist. But as he tightened the strings, he realized his waist was slightly thinner.
The apron, which used to fit snugly on the second loop, was now slightly loose. He had to pull it to tie a few more knots to keep it from sliding down.
"No..." Alex whispered, looking down at his midsection.
Under the flannel, his torso was losing its boxy shape.
His ribs were becoming slightly more defined, his waist cinching in just a fraction of an inch.
Soon a wave of heat washed over him as the fire was lit.
"Oh, god..." Alex let out a long, shuddering moan of relief.
It wasn't just warmth; as the heat hit his skin, the lethargy that had been weighing down his limbs evaporated.
His heart rate steadied. The tightness in his chest loosened.
He found himself leaning dangerously close to the open flames, his eyes half-closed in bliss.
He didn't just want to be near the fire; he wanted to climb inside it.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" the Empress whispered, her voice lazy and satisfied.
"Your blood is becoming the same as any other snake, my little vessel. Like all serpents, we cannot generate our own heat. We must steal it from the sun... or the fire."
"I'm cold-blooded now?" Alex thought, horrified, yet unable to step away from the comforting glow. "Great. Another freakish side effect."
He stood there for twenty minutes, pumping the bellows rhythmically.
The forge temperature climbed to over a thousand degrees.
Usually, Alex would be dying of heat exhaustion by now, retreating to the water bucket every five minutes.
But today? He was thriving.
Sweat began to bead on his forehead and neck, but it didn't feel gross.
His skin, now in the middle of that weird 'shedding' phase, glistened under the orange light.
More importantly, the heat was baking the pheromones right out of his pores.
The air in the small shop began to thicken. It smelled like spiced honey and night-blooming jasmine… heavy, sweet, and suffocatingly erotic.
Ding-ling.
The bell above the shop entrance chimed.
"Hey, who's in charge here? I'm here for my commission!" a haughty female voice rang out.
Alex froze, wiping a bead of sweat from his upper lip.
He recognized the voice. It was that crazy bitch Lady Clara, a Noble from the wealthy district.
She was a regular customer, known for being demanding, rude, and treating the shop workers like dirt.
"Uncle John is in the back!" Alex called out, not turning around. He kept his face toward the fire, hoping she would just wait.
But she didn't wait.
He heard the click-clack of expensive leather boots on the stone floor.
Then, silence.
The footsteps stopped right behind him.
"You..." Lady Clara's voice wasn't haughty anymore, her eyes slightly red.
It sounded confusing, she didn't know why but her body began to carve Alex.
Alex slowly turned around, clutching the handle of the bellows like a shield.
Lady Clara stood there, dressed in a fine blue tight silk top embroidered with silver thread.
She was a beautiful woman in her thirties, with sharp features and cold eyes. But right now, those eyes weren't cold.
They were wide, the pupils dilated with a hint of red, fixed squarely on Alex's flushed, sweaty face.
"I..." Clara blinked, her nose twitching as she inhaled the heavy, sweet scent filling the room. "What is that smell?"
"Just the coal, my lady," Alex said, his voice sounding breathy due to the heat.
He tried to step back, but the forge was directly behind him.
"No," Clara murmured. She took a step closer, invading his personal space.
She was a C-rank Elite professional, far stronger than him. The pressure coming off her made Alex's knees weak.
She reached out, her gloved hand hovering near his face.
"You're that blacksmith's nephew, aren't you?" she asked, her gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips, then lower, to the open collar of his flannel shirt where his sweat-slicked collarbone was exposed.
She didn't wait for an answer. With a slow, deliberate movement, she pulled the fine leather glove off her right hand, revealing manicured fingers with rings.
"You've changed so much, from what I remembered about you..." She reached out and pressed her bare fingertips against the side of his neck.
Alex flinched, a jolt of electric panic shooting down his spine. Her hand was cool, a stark contrast to his feverish skin.
"And you're so... soft, my type…" she noted, her eyes darkening as she slid her fingers through the sheen of sweat on his throat.
She pulled her hand back and brought her glistening fingertips to her nose.
She inhaled deeply, her eyelids fluttering shut. "Heavens. You smell like pure, concentrated vitality. Like a Spirit Fruit waiting to be eaten."
"Hehehee, how unlucky… she wants to consume you… this bitch is possessed by a powerful Evil Spirit…" Just then the Empress hissed in Alex's mind, her voice vibrating with excitement. "Look at her pupils. She's high on your scent."
"An evil spirit like her... she instinctively knows that mating with you or consuming your essence and soul would boost her cultivation."
"Untill you learn how to control your body, you are a walking aphrodisiac."
"Please, Lady Clara," Alex stammered. As soon as he heard the Empress voice, he gripped the bellows so hard his hands turned white.
‘Fuck, its an Evil Spirit… Damn my luck,’ He tried to maintain his calm, but internally he was scared to shit, and didn’t know how to escape.
He felt dizzy. The heat, the smell, her proximity, it was too much. "My uncle... the sword..."
"Forget the sword," Clara snapped, her eyes snapping open.
She grabbed Alex's chin, forcing him to look up at her. Her grip was iron-strong.
"I need a personal attendant," she said, her voice thick with barely suppressed lust. "Someone to warm my bed... I mean, my bath. Someone with your... complexion."
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