When authors describe a woman as breathtakingly beautiful, most people never realize how overwhelming that can be in reality.
Song's mind had always filled in the blanks whenever he read such descriptions. No matter how a woman was described, his imagination would quietly smooth over the details without much thought.
But Nyoma was genuinely beautiful.
His mouth hung slightly open as she approached with effortless grace.
Her radiant skin seemed to glow beneath the lantern light. Her smile was enchanting. A long elegant neck, striking features, and a presence that immediately drew attention.
A powerful feeling of admiration washed over him as she guided him toward her room.
Physical beauty truly did matter.
The novel's description—that men could freeze in shock upon seeing her—suddenly felt far less exaggerated than he had once believed.
Song finally regained his composure and offered a polite smile.
He had always imagined her with a deep voice and a motherly presence.
She was nothing like that.
"Overexcited young men are always amusing. I used to find them constantly on battlefields."
Azeron's mocking voice echoed in his mind.
"As promised, I won't help you. Congratulations on surviving your first trap."
Song had not realized how distracted he had become until Azeron's voice startled him so badly that his entire body twitched.
He rubbed his long hair in frustration.
He had fallen for one of the oldest tricks imaginable.
The femme fatale.
Of course, Nyoma was not a warrior. The novel described her as a fortune reader—or something similar.
Song had no desire to continue thinking about it as he watched her move around the room.
The truth was simple.
He was intimidated.
If her beauty alone affected him this much, what would happen when he met the truly legendary women mentioned later in the story?
The room itself was impressive.
A massive bed occupied the center. Behind it lay a beautiful pool of water illuminated only by lanterns hanging from the walls.
Tiny sparks drifted across its surface.
Song remembered reading that the enchanted water eased pain.
Around the bed stood shelves filled with books and scattered papers.
And there—
He found it.
The spellbook.
Song stared in disbelief.
He walked toward it carefully.
The description had been accurate.
A black book covered in slick, unpleasant leather.
At its center was a grotesque eye.
Repulsive.
Disturbing.
Almost alive.
Song shivered as he touched the cover.
It felt wet and disgusting beneath his fingers.
Then he stopped.
Why was he continuing?
He stood in an entirely new world.
A world where safety behind enormous walls was considered the height of civilization.
A world filled with people who still thought like those of the medieval ages.
Yes, he possessed a body powerful enough to shatter metal.
Yes, he possessed magic that could potentially change the world.
And yet—
That was exactly what frightened him.
This was a once-in-a-trillion opportunity.
Would he really throw it away?
He had never imagined there might even be a chance to see his parents again.
Yet there was a possibility.
A possibility.
He thought about his family.
His brother.
His sister.
Neither truly needed him.
He had no lover.
No wife.
No children.
So what exactly was pulling him back?
He did not know.
He feared staying.
Yet he wanted to stay.
He feared returning.
Yet he wanted to return.
Even speaking the word "pain" felt meaningless now.
His body hurt constantly.
He had no idea what he was supposed to do.
I want to go home.
Then what?
He looked over his shoulder.
He needed something—anything—to calm his thoughts.
Nyoma had already discarded the last of her outer garments and stepped into the enchanted pool.
With a splash, she sank into the glowing water and laughed softly.
Song felt his throat go dry.
After a moment of hesitation, he removed his own clothing and stepped into the water as well.
The body he inhabited was absurdly powerful.
Massive muscles, broad shoulders, and a frame that looked more like a living statue than a human being.
Yet all Song felt was embarrassment.
And disgust with himself.
Never in his life had he imagined exploiting someone weaker than him.
And he had no intention of doing so now.
The water wasn't what drew him there.
It was the relief.
The warmth eased the agony inside his body.
For the first time since arriving in this world, his thoughts began to slow.
And for a brief moment—
He could finally think clearly.
The water was warm, but it eased nothing.
Meanwhile, the beautiful Nyoma rested against the edge of the pool with her back turned toward him, her eyes closed peacefully. A narrow crack in the curtains allowed a beam of sunlight to slip inside. The warmth touched Song's thigh, and once again his throat went dry.
She looked completely at ease.
Behind her, the red glow of the lanterns seemed to grow brighter. Nearby stood baskets of fruit, sweet drinks, and delicate desserts, all within reach whenever he wished. It was a beautiful place.
Yet he felt no happiness.
The room was filled with strange dolls. A bald man with glowing eyes and tattoos. A white wolf pierced with knives.
Did she collect dolls?
"Seriously... this is ridiculous."
Song muttered bitterly. Azeron's face had become flushed from arousal as he desperately tried to look away from her beautiful figure.
He refused to become some degenerate who took advantage of her.
Even if he could feel her emotions.
Even if every part of her seemed to whisper:
Come here, handsome.
Azeron was not ugly.
He was overwhelmingly masculine.
It was no surprise that so many women had fallen for him.
"Well, this is a first."
Nyoma's teasing smile made him shiver and grind his teeth.
He hated this.
He wasn't some pervert.
She moved closer.
Azeron's face reddened further while Song fought for control, feeling like someone desperately trying to quit an addiction while temptation stood right in front of them.
"You know, my lord," she said softly, "the first time I came here, I was terrified. But you were never a bad person. You're a great man."
She wrapped an arm around his thick neck and gently guided his face toward hers.
Song sat motionless in the water.
His worries vanished.
His thoughts disappeared.
He wanted her.
The realization filled him with shame.
With sadness.
Slowly, he turned toward her.
His hand brushed against her leg.
Then, after a moment of surrender, his fingers lightly touched her hip before sliding up her back.
He froze.
It wasn't smooth.
Beneath his fingertips were dozens of thin ridges.
Scars.
For a brief moment he felt sadness.
Disgust.
Yet Nyoma herself remained calm.
Her emotions barely shifted.
Song glanced at her back.
Whip marks.
"Stop."
His voice was quiet.
Every trace of desire vanished instantly.
He sensed surprise from her.
Then amusement.
"I wasn't the first person who owned you."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
He felt disgusted with himself.
For a moment he sensed pain buried deep inside her before it disappeared again.
"I know I ruined the mood," Song continued quietly, "but I want you to answer honestly. Don't worry. I won't be angry."
Owner.
Master.
He couldn't believe he was saying those words to another human being.
Nyoma smiled.
"The idea that I would lie to you is foolish."
She shrugged.
"Let's be honest with each other. I have nothing to hide from you."
Her smile remained beautiful.
"My appearance wasn't why I was brought here. You didn't choose me because of beauty. You chose me because of my ability."
"Fortune reading."
Song remembered.
"I heard it lets you glimpse the past, the present, and fragments of the future."
He gently moved away from her.
"I want to ask a simple question."
His voice was filled with self-loathing.
"Do I remind you of something bad? Of your previous master? I don't want to hurt your feelings."
To his surprise, she answered immediately.
"The others weren't as kind as my great lord, so don't worry."
Her voice carried no hatred.
"No, it wasn't quite what you're imagining."
She leaned back.
"You see, most of the women here possessed useful abilities. Gifts that powerful people desired."
"What they lacked was beauty."
Her eyes met his.
"So their bodies were changed to make them desirable."
Song felt rage building inside him.
"If you're wondering whether they flatter you because they were trained, manipulated, or had their minds altered..."
She shook her head.
"You're wrong."
"They genuinely loved you."
"Because you were never cruel."
"You were never a monster."
Song stared at her.
"That's horrifying."
For the first time, his voice was completely sincere.
Anger burned inside him.
"If someone had done that to me..."
His jaw tightened.
"Or to my family..."
He stopped.
He imagined his sister.
What if she had been taken?
Sold?
Modified?
Nyoma herself might have been kidnapped.
Perhaps she still had family somewhere.
"Do you miss them?"
Song asked while pouring drinks.
"If you wanted, I could help you find them."
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Without emotion.
"They sold me."
She accepted it so casually that it hurt.
Then she pointed toward a mark on her shoulder.
A strange tattoo.
"A curse."
She smiled faintly.
"The Black Widow."
"It activates if I ever fall deeply in love."
Then she fell silent.
Still smiling.
How could she control her emotions so well?
Song didn't need further explanation.
He already understood.
He decided not to push her.
Instead, he poured them both a drink.
"Your ability is called Nectar of Eras, right?"
He felt a small spark of pride from her.
"Show me."
Nyoma extended a finger.
A glowing circle appeared above the drink.
Images formed within the liquid.
Places.
People.
Memories.
"Do you have regrets?" Song asked quietly.
Inside the cup, he saw the image of a white owl standing among white flowers.
"No."
Nyoma's voice remained calm.
"I forgot them long ago."
She continued.
"Wounds heal."
"And besides, it was my choice."
"I was the one who left."
Song extended a respectful hand.
"Teach me."
He smiled encouragingly.
"How do you do it?"
Nyoma smiled proudly.
Then frowned.
"I don't know how to explain it."
She dipped her hand into the pool.
Song felt energy flowing from her and merging with the water.
She concentrated.
Then images appeared.
A road.
A child carrying two elderly people.
A well in the distance.
"He's happy," she said.
"I can tell."
"People are like books to me."
Song blinked.
"They replaced the donkey with the boy."
He stared at the vision.
"Wouldn't it be easier to let the donkey carry the water?"
Then another image appeared.
Something far less pleasant.
A woman sat alone in a cave surrounded by books and scrolls.
Beside her rested a severed head.
Song flinched.
His heart pounded.
Then he relaxed.
He had seen worse images on the internet.
"The fool never accepted her husband's death."
Nyoma said it casually.
Song stared at the image.
Then realized something.
He was no different.
Just as foolish.
"If that were you..."
He began.
Then stopped.
Because Nyoma had already answered his question.
"Did you love your family, Nyoma?"
Song asked quietly.
The look in her eyes was enough.
He rose from the pool.
Picked up the spellbook.
And turned away.
Inside his mind, Azeron laughed.
"So? Have you made your decision?"
Song tightened his grip on the book.
"I'll stay with you until I meet my parents."
Then he added firmly:
"And after that..."
"I'll return to my world."