[Forbidden Information: The host's race does not qualify for further revelation.]

His jaw clenched. Hard.

'What the 'fuck' does that mean?'

Viktor's fingers tapped against the wooden table, a steady rhythm that betrayed his growing frustration. The system had always been straightforward—crude, even, but never this... cryptic.

'What qualification and whatnis this Forbidden information?'

He tried to keep his breathing even, tried to maintain that casual smirk he'd worn while watching Elara bolt out of the manor. But inside, his mind was spinning like those gears he'd assembled last night.

'Hey, System,' Viktor thought, his internal voice sharp as broken glass. 'What do you mean by that? What race? What the hell am I becoming?'

The screen flickered.

Then... nothing.

Just a blank square bracket with dots.

[...]

Viktor's eye twitched.

'Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now?'

[...]

'System!'

[...]

His hands moved from the table to his lap, fingers digging into his thighs hard enough to hurt. The pain grounded him, kept him from losing his shit right there at the breakfast table.

He looked down, jaw working as he thought back to his past life. Those final moments. The explosion. The heat. The pain.

And before all that... the changes.

Small horns pushing through his scalp. A thin, useless tail coiling against his lower back. His body transforming into something that wasn't quite human anymore.

He'd dismissed it then—chalked it up to dark magic experimentation, maybe some side effect of the poisons and traps he'd been creating.

But now?

Now the System was 'confirming' it.

'Am I... not human?'

The thought settled in his gut like a stone dropped into deep water, sinking slowly, inevitably.

Viktor closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. When he opened them again, his gaze was sharp, focused.

'If I'm not human, then what the hell am I? And why won't you tell me?'

The screen remained blank.

Mocking him with silence.

Viktor's lips pressed into a thin line. Fine. If the System wanted to play games, he'd figure it out himself. He always did.

But the uncertainty gnawed at him.

Was his lust even 'real'? Or was it some byproduct of whatever he was becoming? Some racial trait forcing him to breed, to gather women, to—

A soft hand touched his shoulder.

Viktor's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Bella. She stood beside him, her cat ears flicking nervously, her tail swishing behind her.

"I-I mean… My Lord," she corrected quickly, bowing her head. "C-can I… ask you something?"

Her words were stammering, uncertain. Her eyes—those wide, hollow yellow eyes—looked at him with something between fear and desperation.

Viktor stared at her for a long moment.

Then he felt it again. That 'pull'. That primal hunger coiling in his gut, making his cock twitch despite everything running through his mind.

He wanted her. Right here. Right now.

And the fact that he couldn't tell if that desire was 'his' or something hardwired into whatever the fuck he was becoming made his frustration spike into full-blown anger.

"I'll talk to you later," Viktor said flatly, his voice colder than he'd intended.

Bella flinched.

"Y-Yes, sir," she whispered, bowing her head quickly before stepping back.

Viktor stood abruptly, ignoring the way everyone at the table looked at him. He grabbed his and others empty bowl and utensils, turned on his heel, and walked toward the kitchen without another word.

He needed space. Needed to think. Needed to figure out what the hell was happening to him before he lost his goddamn mind.

Behind him, Bella stood frozen, confused. Helena and Mira exchanged glances.

And Kaida's red eyes narrowed, watching Viktor's retreating back with a sudden frustrated expression as if he needed to use the bathroom but it wasn't coming out.

'What's with this asshole?'

----

The kitchen was cold.

Viktor stood at the basin, hands submerged in lukewarm water, scrubbing the wooden bowl with more force than necessary. The rhythmic sound of water sloshing and dishes clinking filled the silence, but it did nothing to quiet his thoughts.

'Unqualified Race. Forbidden information. What the 'fuck' is going on?'

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

'Am I even real? Or am I just... some pawn? A tool for this damn System?'

The horns. The tail. The insatiable lust. The way women kept showing up at his doorstep like pieces on a board.

Too many coincidences.

Too many things that didn't add up.

Viktor's eyes closed, his hands stilling in the water.

'If I'm not human... if I'm something else... then what does that make everything I've done? Every choice I've made? Is any of it even 'mine'?'

The thought made his stomach twist.

It was the fear of human ego.

Just like how humans want to earn money, desiring something, and talk to others to matter; the moment they lose every desire or ego to live, they exit life—that was actually what was happening with him.

A state where either he integrates his thoughts in some way or exhausts himself into depression, like every human tries to defy the logic that they are the ones controlling themselves—not their mood, sudden anger, or habits.

He was so lost in his head that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

Didn't notice the soft rustle of fabric.

Not until he felt it.

Soft. Warm. Pillowy.

Two massive breasts pressing against his back, squishing against his bandages. Arms wrapping around his chest from behind, delicate hands splaying across his ribs.

And then lips—warm, wet—pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

"You don't need to worry," Mira's voice whispered against his skin, low and soothing. "Even if it's a habit you've got... we can work together to solve it."

Viktor's eyes snapped open.

'What?'

"Can you leave, Mira?" he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "I don't want anyone near me right now."

He tried to focus on the dishes. On the water. On anything except the warmth of her body against his back because he didn't know what he wanted to do, as his mind was not working at all—things were too messy.

He became a pervert all of a sudden, and I have not even questioned how he became like that up until now.

It was like humans who forget that they will die one day and keep living with excuses to matter without trying to find that single reason why they are in the place they actually are... and when they try to do it.

They just experience frustration that leads their search for answers to return back to a non-frustrating life without any questions and a realization they always miss.

The real search was neither question nor answer but simply the life they are living... just being in the present.

But in a situation where doubts force themselves into the mind, the only thing needed was for those doubts to dissolve somewhere by a hand that remains with them.

And for Viktor... there were going to be many.

But for starters... it was her.

Mira didn't pull away.

Instead, her hands started to move.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Down.

Viktor's breath halted as he felt her fingers trail down his stomach, over the curve of his belly, and lower—

Her hand cupped his crotch.

"Why?" Mira whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "Just because that young man arrived, you're going to return to your old self and lose interest in women?"

Viktor froze.

'...What?'

Mira's fingers moved, gently massaging his cock through the fabric of his pants. Her touch was soft, teasing, coaxing him to harden despite the confusion flooding his mind.

She bit his neck—not hard, but enough to send a jolt of sensation through him.

"It's fine," she murmured, her voice dripping with false understanding. "I know you have some dirty kinks, honey. But you should focus on the opposite gender."

Viktor's cock was reacting. Swelling. Hardening in her hand.

But his 'mind' was somewhere else entirely, trying to process what the hell she'd just said.

'She thinks...'

His mouth twitched.

'She thinks Elara is a 'man'.'

And not just that.

She thinks 'I'm attracted to him'.

Viktor's frustration, his confusion, his existential crisis about his own humanity—all of it crashed into the sheer absurdity of Mira's misunderstanding.

And despite everything, he almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, he closed his eyes, set down the dish he'd been scrubbing, and slowly cleaned his hands.

Then he turned.

'She definitely needs some ass spanking.'

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