"..T-that's—" Mira's breath caught. She wanted to protest the language, the bluntness—but Toby was drinking.

Slowly, painfully, but drinking.

Viktor's hand remained steady, supporting Toby's head as he tipped the cup again.

A bit of the liquid dribbled down the boy's chin, but Viktor didn't rush. He waited, patient, letting Toby swallow at his own pace.

"Good," Viktor said quietly when the cup was half-empty. "More."

It took what felt like an eternity, but Toby finished it.

Every last drop.

Viktor lowered the boy's head back onto the cushion with the same care he'd lifted it, his expression unreadable.

He set the empty cup aside and reached for a small cloth Helena had brought with the water.

Mira watched, frozen, as Viktor dabbed at Toby's lips—cleaning away the residue of medicine and the dried blood that had crusted there earlier from his fever-cracked skin.

His movements were... gentle. Surprisingly so.

He appeared like a father to Toby in that small moment.

Like Toby wasn't just some commoner's child with mental illness he'd taken pity on.

Viktor shifted, turning toward Mira.

'24/7, bastard system, do something about perverted gaze or you are dead.' Viktor firmly warned system while more so fatigued due to all the hassle today, not that he hated but just too exhausted to smile or care about lust.

[ Race Integration: 10/100% reached ('''Non-Accessible Notification until 20% Race threshold awakening reached.) ]

She flinched instinctively, then hated herself for it.

But he didn't comment. His eyes—those dark, cold eyes that looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here—dropped to her face. Specifically, her lips.

"You're bleeding too," he said simply.

"I—what?" Mira's hand flew to her mouth. Her fingers came away with a faint smear of red. She hadn't even noticed.

Probably bit her lip at some point during the chaos or it was due to slap she received from that bandit.

Before she could protest, Viktor was in front of her.

He'd moved so quietly she hadn't heard him stand. Now he loomed—not threateningly, just... there. Close. Too close.

thump thump

Her heart hammered.

He held the cloth—the same one he'd used on Toby—and lifted it toward her face.

Mira's breath stopped entirely.

His hand was broad, fingers thick but steady as he pressed the cloth gently against her lower lip. The fabric was slightly damp, cool against her cracked skin.

She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

From this angle—this 'close'—she could see him properly for the first time.

He was... chubby. There was no delicate way to put it. His cheeks were round, his jawline softened by the extra weight he carried. But it didn't make him 'ugly'.

No.

It made him... different.

Handsome in a way she'd never considered before. Soft where most men were sharp. His skin was pale, almost luminous in the dim light, and dirt-smudged in a way that made him seem more 'real', more human than the distant, untouchable nobles she'd seen in passing.

His eyes though—those were what held her.

Cold. Distant. Like he was already halfway out the door, like every second spent here was a second stolen from somewhere he'd rather be.

But his hand on her face was warm.

And so, so careful.

Viktor wiped the blood away with two precise strokes, then stepped back abruptly, like he'd just remembered himself.

"Done," he muttered, tossing the cloth onto the table.

Mira's hand rose unconsciously to her lip, fingertips brushing where the cloth had been.

"Thank you, my lord," she whispered, voice barely audible.

He didn't acknowledge it. His gaze was already elsewhere—on the sofa, on the floor, anywhere but her due to fucking system.

Unaware that rather than the system itself, his race was slowly surfacing to fully form and come into existence while showing symptoms of early integration in his human body—igniting lust, slowly showing the traits of a true demon—corruption and domination will be next as internal characteristics full integration happens and then external changes surface.

A subsequent changes were taking root in his actions, from calm and detached to lust, and now... moving ahead in his evolution from human to an Incubus.

But for now—he fucking needed sleep.

"You and the kid take the sofa for tonight," Viktor said, his voice rougher now, fraying at the edges. "I'll take the other one."

He gestured vaguely toward a second, smaller couch pushed against the far wall, half-buried under dust and forgotten clutter.

"My lord, you—" Mira started, alarmed. "You shouldn't—this is your home, you should take your bed, we can—"

"Don't care." Viktor was already moving, crossing the room with heavy, dragging steps. "Too tired to climb stairs."

He reached the couch and dropped onto it with zero ceremony, the old wood creaking loudly under his weight.

Helena's eyes widened. "Young master, at least let me fetch proper bedding—"

"No." Viktor's voice was muffled, his face already half-buried in a dusty cushion. "Just... sleep. Both of you."

He exhaled hard, the sound rattling out of him like he'd been holding it in for hours.

"Good nigh—" His words slurred, trailing off into nothing.

"Zzz... zzzz... zzzz..."

The soft sound of snoring filled the room.

Mira blinked.

Helena blinked.

They stared at Viktor's still form, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep, immediate sleep.

"Did he just..." Mira whispered, disbelief coloring her voice.

"Fall asleep mid-sentence," Helena finished, equally stunned.

They looked at each other, shock mirrored in both their expressions.

Helena recovered first, her lips curving into a small, sad smile. "He must be exhausted."

Mira nodded slowly, her gaze drifting back to Viktor. His face was slack in sleep, all the tension and coldness smoothed away. He looked... younger. More vulnerable.

'How long has he been running himself into the ground like this?' she wondered, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable twisting in her chest.

She turned back to Toby, adjusting the thin blanket over him and settling herself on the edge of the sofa beside him.

Her body screamed in protest—every muscle sore, every bone aching—but she forced herself to stillness.

This was safety. Fragile, temporary maybe, but 'real'.

Movement caught her eye.

Helena was walking toward the doorway, her steps quiet, deliberate.

Mira's brow furrowed. "Where...?"

Confusion pulled her upright. She glanced at Toby—still sleeping, breathing easier now—then at Viktor, dead to the world on his couch.

Helena disappeared through the doorway without a word.

'What is she doing?'

Curiosity—and something else, some nagging instinct—made Mira stand. She moved carefully, quietly, casting one last look at Toby before following Helena's path.

The hallway beyond was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single candle Helena must have taken with her.

Mira padded forward, bare feet silent on the cold stone floor, eyes fixed on Helena's retreating back.

"Um... Miss Helena?"

Helena didn't turn. Her steps were measured, leading her out of the main living area and through a short, dark corridor that opened up into the cold night air.

A small, overgrown courtyard, forgotten and reclaimed by weeds, lay under the dim moonlight.

She stopped just past the threshold, her silhouette rigid against the pale light, arms folded neatly before her.

Mira hesitated at the edge of the courtyard, the cold stone floor shocking her bare feet.

The warmth from the fireplace felt a world away now. "Lady Helena?" she called out softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Helena turned, her expression as unreadable as the night sky as she was going to be honest here about a simple truth.

"You know he is a nobleman, don't you?" she asked, her tone firm, cutting through the silence. It wasn't a question; it was a statement demanding acknowledgement.

Mira flinched. The abruptness of it, the sudden shift from the shared shock inside, caught her completely off guard.

She didn't understand. "Yes, Lady Helena," she answered, her voice trembling slightly. "I know."

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