Lor leaned over the sink, splashing cold water onto his face as if trying to drown the remnants of that bizarre dream.
A pink-glowing, cum-hungry spirit? Seriously? His brain was inventing new levels of insanity.
With a groan, he scrubbed his cheeks like he could scrub the image out of existence.
A low chuckle slipped out—equal parts amusent and unease.
"I need a goddamn exorcist," he muttered, pressing his fingertips to his temples.
In the mirror, his reflection smirked back at him: crooked, reckless, and far too entertained.
Today was supposed to be normal.
A holiday. No academy lectures, no training.
Sure, it was mildly depressing that he wouldn’t get to ogle his big-breasted classmates or make out with his pervy drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, Kiara... but still—a rare day off.
Simple. Peaceful. A chance to breathe.
He dried off with a scratchy towel and shuffled to the toilet.
With a sigh, he unwrapped himself, letting the morning pressure ease out as the stream hit the bowl.
His shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out of him.
And then, halfway through, an intrusive thought slithered into his head.
Why the hell am I still horny?
He froze, hand still on himself, staring blankly at the tiled wall. Last night had been a marathon of debauchery.
He’d co so many tis he half-expected his balls to file for retirent.
Yet here he was, mid-piss, semi-hard and still thinking about it.
"I guess I am turning into so kind of a pervy villain or a anti hero," he said to the empty bathroom, voice low and dripping with self-aware glee.
Then louder, cackling like a madman who’d just toppled a kingdom with his dick alone: "I’m an actual supervillain!"
"LOR!" Mira’s voice sliced through the door, sharp and maternal, laced with that familiar exasperation. "Stop laughing in there like a lunatic! Gods, grow up already!"
"Okay Mom!" he called back, mid-cackle, shaking himself off—one, two—before tucking himself in and flushing.
He grabbed his toothbrush, still grinning, and by the ti he erged—hair damp, teeth gleaming—the scent of breakfast curled up the stairs like a siren’s call.
The kitchen was a warm haven, sunlight streaming through open windows, the soft clink of pots echoing from the stove.
Mira stood at the counter, plating roasted yam hash and fried eggs with the practiced precision of soone who disapproved in silence.
Every movent was calm, yet carried the weight of unspoken judgnt.
Across the table, Eren sat buried in day’s newspaper, face half-hidden behind headlines about trade disputes and soldier shortages.
"Morning, Lor," he mumbled, his eyes never leaving the print.
"Morning, Dad," Lor replied, slumping into his seat with the relaxed swagger of a man who hadn’t just spent the night defiling the noble district’s wives.
The first bite of Mira’s cooking hit like divine revelation—spiced, greasy, and so soul-soothing it could bring a lesser demon to tears.
Lor devoured it, barely chewing, driven by a hunger that felt like he’d burned through a week’s worth of stamina in one night.
Honestly? He probably had.
Then, mid-bite, like a delayed hex, the thought struck him.
Was I always this horny?
He froze, fork hovering, yam hash dangling precariously.
Last night hadn’t just been about pleasure.
He’d perford a ritual with Lia and Sophia—intense, magical, their bodies and Light entwined in a spiritual crescendo that left them all trembling.
But then... after he returned ho.
He still felt unsatisfied.
So he wandered into the Midnight Bloom’s masked orgy and fucked three strangers until his body scread for rcy.
Was that normal?
His brow furrowed.
The dream—the glowing spirit, her eerie moan about "sin" and "filth"—it wasn’t just so wet dream nonsense.
It had weight.
Magic. A presence. A curse? A warning?
His mind snagged on a na, sharp and sudden: Kiara.
The girl who’d taken his virginity.
Had she marked sothing weird on him?
Planted sothing in his soul that was only now blooming, dark and insatiable?
He tapped his fingers against the plate, the clink of tal grounding his spiraling thoughts. He needed answers.
Witch magic—sothing was off, and he wasn’t about to let it fester unchecked.
But first, priorities.
Nellie had asked for guidance today, and he’d promised to help her receive the light’s guidance.
Then Olivia in the evening—busty, scattered Olivia, who needed his help with math and mana control.
A little one-on-one, and he’d have her focused in no ti.
His schedule was booked, but not exhausting.
He could handle it.
And he craved it.
He felt unhinged.
He grinned, fork dangling from his mouth, the taste of spice and rebellion lingering.
"What are you grinning about?" Eren asked, peering over the edge of his newspaper, one eyebrow raised.
Lor blinked, then tossed out a lie as smooth as silk. "Just rembered sothing dumb from the academy yesterday."
"Hmph." Eren retreated behind his paper without another word.
Lor scarfed down the last of the hash, drained his tea in one long gulp, and stood in a single fluid motion.
"I’m heading out Mom," he called, already halfway to the door, adjusting his collar in the hall mirror.
"To play or to ’roam around’?" Mira asked, her tone dry, already knowing he was full of shit.
"...Yes," Lor shot back, lips twitching as he slipped on his shoes.
And then he was gone, stepping into the sunlit streets, the faint scent of flowers trailing him like a ghost.
The cobbled streets of the town buzzed with life, sunlight glinting off rooftops like liquid gold.
Lor sauntered through the crowd, his loose shirt flapping in the warm breeze, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and his usual black trousers.
Comfortable. Forgettable.
The kind of outfit that let him blend into the chaos of vendors, shoppers, and idle chatter.
But inside? His mind was a storm, crackling with restless energy, already spiraling toward Nellie.
Sweet, shy Nellie.
Her soft voice, her nervous blush when he stood too close, the way her eyes widened with every word about the Light.
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