The advancents in dicine had been rather unstable lately—progress was happening, yes, but the montum was erratic, like a fla that flickers with every gust. With the rapid developnt of treatnts across a wide spectrum of diseases, the world found itself in the midst of a new dical era. Integration efforts for these dicines were underway, and global trial runs had begun in preparation for mass production and international distribution. The ambition was big. The effort—massive.
In Leonamon, the breakthroughs were soaring sky-high. The contributions were unmatched, particularly when it ca to basic, yet vital necessities—things like antibiotics, immune boosters, and other essential treatnts were already rolling off production lines.
Still, not all the dicines were finished. So were halfway there—tangled in refinent phases, awaiting perfection.
And yet, oddly enough, the most heavily produced and widely sold item wasn’t sothing lifesaving or disease-curing.
It was aphrodisiacs.
That detail alone sparked a wave of thoughts in —ideas that could be good for business, especially here. In this world, sex wasn’t just accepted—it was glorified. Pleasure was treated as sacred, perhaps even more than health or peace. And I had no complaints about that. I loved sex just as much as anyone else. So I figured, why not craft sothing special that leans into that culture?
Maya stood beside while I quietly observed the assortnt of dicines laid out across the shelves and tables. There were drugs for all kinds of ailnts, potent stuff designed to stop illnesses at their roots, and others that boosted vitality and stamina to an unnatural degree.
Everywhere I looked, the primary the was health, like treatnts that healed, soothed, or strengthened the body against disease. Nothing flashy. Just clean, clinical efficiency.
But today was different. I had sothing specific in mind.
I was preparing to submit a sample to the lab—sothing that would serve as a vital step in researching a cure for the Eternal Slumber Illness. This wasn’t just any disease. It was deadly—silent and creeping—and not sothing to be taken lightly. Once it took hold of soone, the only known thod to "preserve" them was through magic—by binding their life to an enchanted implent. Even then, it wasn’t a cure. They wouldn’t wake up. They’d just be stuck in a state between life and death.
I had said to the lab staff earlier that I should just drop my sperm into a vial and be done with it.
But they’d insisted—it needed to be fresh.
So, reluctantly, I made my way here.
Stepping into this sterile, near-white room filled with white-robed individuals gave an odd, unsettled feeling—like I’d accidentally walked into a realm that wasn’t mine. The clinical sll of alcohol and iron lingered faintly in the air, and the whisper of footsteps on tile echoed faintly with every movent.
I couldn’t believe how crowded it had gotten in here compared to before. The place had practically transford.
That was why I now found myself walking toward Trisha’s lab.
Trisha, one of my won, was stationed here. She worked both as a doctor and a pharmaceutical researcher. She had always been the quiet, composed type with her being professional, sharp, and deeply passionate about her craft.
Lucky for , she had a natural talent for this line of work. She wasn’t just a healer. She was also a relentless learner, constantly evolving, adapting, and pushing her knowledge of dicine to new heights.
After weaving through a few hallways and corridors, Maya and I finally reached the room where Trisha was working.
Maya knocked gently on the door.
"Co in, please. The door is open," a calm, slightly muffled voice replied from inside.
Maya pushed the door open.
The sight that greeted us was almost overwhelming.
Stacks upon stacks of paper were everywhere—piled so high they brushed the ceiling, pinned to walls, scattered across tables, even spilling onto the floor. There was no rhy or reason to the layout, but there was a strange kind of organized chaos to it. It was the unmistakable signature of a mind consud by research.
Even though all the writing was in the sa language I knew, none of it made sense to . It was a flurry of dical terminology and handwritten formulas. But I figured it had sothing to do with pharmaceutical developnt.
"Oh, Master. You’re here," Trisha said warmly. She turned with a graceful smile and gave a polite bow. Then she walked up to and wrapped her arms around my torso in a soft, longing embrace. "It’s been quite a while... I was starting to get frustrated."
"I know. I’m sorry," I replied, returning the hug. "You’ve been busy too, so it’s hard to find a good ti for both of us."
Co to think of it, the last ti we did it must’ve been over a month ago.
That wasn’t typical for . I always made ti to care for my girls. Usually, it never took more than a week before I’d be with them again. But this past month had been insane—between her workload and mine, romance just kept slipping further and further away.
"Well..." Trisha said, her tone dropping into sothing a little more sultry, "we could always just do it now."
She stepped back and smiled playfully.
"I think it would be fitting... considering what you ca here for."
I was here to give her a sample—my sperm—but apparently, she had sothing more hands-on in mind for how that was going to happen.
Trisha turned from and walked over to her desk, which was completely buried under paper.
Then she bent over, arching slightly as she reached into a bottom drawer on the other side of the table. Her skirt lifted just a little—but her focus remained locked on whatever she was searching for.
It took a while—probably longer than expected—but finally, she seed to find it.
"Here," she said, pulling sothing out and holding it in her palm. "This looks like a good one to use. It’s still in its prototype stage, but I think it’ll do. Plus, testing it with you first seems appropriate."
She stepped closer and held it out toward .
My eyes widened the second I saw it.
"Oh? You already finished it?"
It was one of the very products I had conceptualized when I learned how enthusiastic this world was about sex.
It was sothing made specifically for those monts—sothing sleek and rubbery, designed to prevent males from impregnating their partners.
It was a condom.
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