Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 127. Damn... why am I so hot?

I tore a piece of bread from the slightly crusty loaf and dipped it into the soup.

The broth was warm, flavored lightly with herbs and vegetables—simple, yet it hit the spot. As I brought the soaked bread to my mouth, I stole a glance at Evelyn.

"Hey," I muttered between bites, lowering my voice just enough for only her to hear. "Enough already. Stop glaring like that. You’re going to ruin my chances of scoring someone tonight."

Her spoon paused mid-air. Slowly, she turned her head to look at me, her expression as deadpan as stone. "You weren’t kidding about that?"

I met her gaze with a matter-of-fact nod. "Of course not. I’m a young man with perfectly healthy needs. It wouldn’t kill me to spend a night in pleasant company."

She didn’t say anything after that. No scolding, no sarcasm—just a subtle tightening of her lips as she turned back to her bowl and resumed eating.

That silence was more telling than any retort.

I shrugged to myself and returned to my own meal, chewing thoughtfully. But the atmosphere wasn’t exactly calm.

The soft clinking of spoons and gentle murmur of conversations did little to mask the feeling of being watched.

Casual stares were one thing.

But this?

This was a parade of eyeballs dragging across my bare torso like they were trying to commit my ab lines to memory.

My eyes flicked toward the source of the stares. Each time our gazes met, they quickly looked away, pretending like I hadn’t caught them in the act.

I sighed internally. ’None of them are confident enough. Not my type.’

Maybe I was too picky. Maybe my standards were too high. Maybe I was destined to die a single, lonely man with a great body, face and tragic tales of being ogled too hard in a soup tavern.

But just as I was about to give up on the idea entirely, I noticed her.

She stood out like a bloodstain on white silk—scarlet hair tied into a high, tousled ponytail, and deep blue eyes that gleamed under the low tavern lighting.

Her outfit was functional and tight-fitting—the kind of leather ensemble worn by mercenaries or fighters who knew their way around a blade. It emphasized her athletic build, revealing just enough to invite attention without begging for it.

And she wasn’t staring from behind a cup like the others. No, she was looking straight at me.

Unabashed. Curious.

Our eyes locked for a moment, and hers widened slightly—just enough for a blink or two of surprise. But instead of looking away, she smiled.

A slow, confident grin that pulled at the corner of her lips.

Then, she turned back to her group, laughing at something one of her friends said, as if that moment had never happened.

’Interesting,’ I thought, tilting my head. ’Not shy. Not chasing either. Balanced. She probably has someone already... or she’s just the type who plays it cool.’

Either way, I wasn’t the type to chase unless I wanted to.

And right now, soup took priority.

I resumed eating, trying to focus on the meal. But the voices from her table carried loud and clear across the room, too close and too animated to ignore.

"Hey, check out that cutie over there..."

"Oh please, he’s not just cute—he’s handsome. Like, body-sculpted-by-the-gods handsome."

"Ugh, you say that about every decent-looking guy."

"No, but seriously, he’s got that dangerous aura, y’know?"

"Speaking of danger—did you hear the news?"

"What news?"

"That meat-brained, ego-bloated moron Emerak got killed."

"No way. That jackass? Seriously?"

"Yep. Apparently someone ripped his heart out. Clean. He’s dead."

"Damn... who did it?"

"No one really saw him clearly, but people are calling the guy Purple Boy."

"Purple Boy? That’s a dumb nickname."

"They said he had violet hair. And these crazy sharp eyes. Totally not from around here, either. Word is—he was a student from Rose Academy."

"Wait, wait, wait... You’re telling me someone from outside Opalcrest managed to kill Emerak?"

"Not just kill. Annihilate. Apparently he didn’t even put up a fight."

"That moron was an embarrassment anyway. Good riddance."

"But still... that’s wild."

"They said the guy just... walked up to him and tore his heart out."

A few gasps followed. I kept my head down, slowly chewing on a piece of bread, pretending not to hear a single word.

But then, the scarlet-haired mercenary chimed in, her voice carrying with playful volume and amusement.

"Hey ladies... doesn’t that match the description of the half-naked guy eating soup over there?"

And just like that—boom.

Every head in the room turned.

Eyes locked onto me like I was some ancient dragon that had just stepped into a village square. Some curious, some amazed. A few just looked impressed. Others... interested.

I sighed dramatically and took another spoonful of soup.

’Damn... why am I so hot?’

Evelyn, sitting across from me, covered her face with her hand, whispering something under her breath that was probably not very complimentary.

Meanwhile, the red-haired mercenary winked.

And I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips.

I slouched deeper into my chair, chewing the last bit of bread as the heat of a dozen curious stares settled over my half-naked frame like an invisible cloak.

Evelyn was still beside me, rigid as a rod, her fingers tightening around her spoon until it looked like it might snap.

I leaned over and whispered, "Relax, you’re acting like you’re the one in a towel."

She glared at me from behind the curtain of her hair. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

I smirked. "Immensely."

Before she could reply, footsteps approached. Confident, unhurried.

And sure enough, the scarlet-haired mercenary stopped right beside our table. Her hand rested casually on the hilt of a short dagger strapped to her belt, though the smirk on her face promised mischief rather than menace.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, her voice rich and slightly raspy, like she spent most days shouting over campfires and battlefields.

Evelyn opened her mouth, but I beat her to it.

"Be my guest." I gestured to the empty chair beside me. "It’s not every day a goddess descends from the mercenary heavens."

She chuckled and pulled out the chair, her leather armor creaking faintly as she dropped into it with a relaxed grace.

"I figured I had to get a closer look," she said. "You’re the talk of the tavern, Purple Boy."

I gave a lopsided grin. "I’d prefer something more dignified. Like... Violet Reaper. Or maybe Boy Sculpted by the Gods or maybe something simple like the Butcher."

She barked a laugh. "You are trouble."

Evelyn groaned audibly beside me, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He’s always like this. Don’t encourage him."

The mercenary leaned forward on the table, eyes flicking between us. "Friend? Sister? Lover?"

"Childhood friend," Evelyn muttered.

"Ah. Complicated."

"You’ve no idea," she said, stabbing a chunk of bread with unnecessary force.

The mercenary returned her attention to me. "Name’s Kaelira. Most people just call me Kael."

"Cassius or Purple Boy," I replied. "But you already knew that."

Her lips twitched. "Kinda hard not to. The whole place heard about what you did to Emerak. You really tore his heart out?"

I shrugged. "It was more symbolic than anything."

"Right." Her grin widened. "Symbolically gouging out someone’s chest cavity. Got it."

I leaned back, arms spread across the backrest, towel still clinging to my hips like it knew any more motion might doom us both. "So, Kael. What brings you to this fine establishment filled with soup, bread, and half-naked handsome guy?"

"Came back from a scouting mission," she said. "Needed a place to crash for the night. Didn’t expect a show."

"Neither did we," Evelyn muttered. "This place was empty twenty minutes ago."

Kael smirked again, drumming her fingers on the wooden table. "Word travels fast when someone kills a known brute with a smile on their face."

She looked at me then—really looked.

Like she was sizing me up.

Not with the predatory eyes of someone seeking a fight, but with the calculative curiosity of a seasoned fighter trying to figure out if what she was seeing matched the rumors.

"You don’t have the look of someone who kills for fun," she said. "More like someone who kills because they have to."

I stared back, smile fading ever so slightly. "Sometimes... there’s not much of a difference."

That seemed to satisfy her.

Kael sat back and crossed her arms. "Well, Purple Boy, if you ever feel like swinging your sword somewhere useful, I’ve got a few bounties on my board that could use a walking death sentence like you."

Evelyn’s head snapped toward her. "He’s not joining a merc group."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "I didn’t ask him to. I offered. Big difference."

I glanced at Evelyn, a slow smirk tugging at my lips. "Look at you, getting all defensive."

She rolled her eyes. "Someone has to look out for your dumbass."

Kael laughed again. "You two are fun."

Just then, the old lady—grandma-tier innkeeper—approached, holding another bowl of soup and an extra piece of bread.

"For the lady," she said with a kind smile, placing the meal before Kael.

"Thanks," Kael said. Then she winked at me. "See? I get food and eye candy."

"You flatter me," I said, lifting my bowl in a mock toast. "To soup and scandal."

She clinked her bowl against mine.

"To chaos in towels."

The three of us sat there eating as more murmurs spread through the tavern, and a few girls continued to steal glances toward our table.

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