Villain's Path System-Chapter 34: Power Play

He could feel every inch of her. Every curve. Every—

This is it. This is how my virginity dies.

Today. Right now. In this room.

I’m not ready. I’m NOT READY.

But wait.

She smelled like roses?

Not what he expected. Not the smell of—

Did she use magic? Some kind of cleaning spell?

His brain was trying to process, trying to understand.

Failing completely.

No words were coming out of his mouth. He tried—say something, anything, tell her to stop—but all that came out was a strangled whisper, barely audible.

"I—you—MYRA—"

She leaned in closer, her lips right next to his ear. He could feel her breath.

"What is it, sweetie?"

Her voice was silk. Dangerous silk.

"We’re both adults. Why are you being so dramatic about biology?"

Her hand moved, slipped down, slid across his chest—slow, teasing.

"Maybe we can have some fun. Right?"

No. No no no no no.

This is NOT happening.

This CANNOT be happening.

Lucian’s mouth opened. He tried to speak, What came out was:

"M-M-Myra ma-maybe s-some b-bound-dries we n-need p-profess-sinalism s-some h-human d-decency—"

She laughed right in his ear.

Low. Amused.

Then—

She let go. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Released him and stepped back.

"Oh, sweetheart."

She walked around to face him, that knowing smile on her lips.

"You walked into MY quarters. At dawn. After I said ’come in."

"What exactly did you expect to find?"

Lucian stood there frozen, his hands clenched into fists—so tight his knuckles were white, so tight he could feel his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood.

He was trying to calm down.

Okay. Calm. Calm down.

Deep breaths.

She has a point.

Yeah... She has a point.

His eyes widened as realization hit him like a brick.

Wait.

WAIT.

I HATE THAT SHE HAS A POINT.

"You’re no fun."

Myra tossed the cloth aside casually and reached for actual clothes—a simple shirt, loose pants—putting them on with zero effort, zero time.

Lucian heard the fabric rustling and turned around, now seriously staring at her.

His brain was still trying to process everything that had just happened.

Still failing.

"You’re—you’re just going to—we’re just moving on? Like nothing happened?"

"Nothing DID happen, You interrupted my morning, I sent my guests away, and now we’re having a conversation."

She walked toward the bed with that infuriating grace.

"See? Simple."

She sat on the bed, crossing her legs, and looked at him with that smile—the one that said she knew exactly what she was doing to him and enjoyed every second of it.

A joker’s smile.

"Now come here. Shirt off and show me your ribs."

"What?!"

"I need to see the damage to heal it properly." Her voice was patient, like explaining something to a child. "Or you can go to the infirmary and explain your situation to Professor Kael."

She paused, tilting her head.

"Oh wait—you can’t. It’ll raise questions. Questions you can’t afford to answer, right?"

She leaned forward slightly.

"Am I wrong?"

I hate her.

I hate her so much.

Damn her, she wasn’t wrong.

He moved toward the bed stiffly, sat on the edge, and slowly—painfully—removed his shirt. Every movement reminded him his ribs were broken, that he needed this, that he had no choice.

The bandages came off next, unwinding carefully.

Myra’s hands touched his back without warning.

Warm.

Glowing faintly with magic that he could feel radiating through his skin.

"Two broken ribs. Three cracked. Severe bruising. Some internal bleeding."

Her voice had shifted completely—clinical now, professional.

"Someone really did a number on you."

"Professional assassin," Lucian managed through gritted teeth.

"Ah."

Her hands moved over his ribs, probing gently.

That explains the precision. These breaks are clean. Deliberate. Someone who knows how to hurt without killing.

The warmth intensified, spreading through his chest like liquid fire—not painful, just overwhelming. Healing magic flowing into him, knitting bone and tissue back together.

It felt strange. Not bad, just... too much sensation at once. Like warmth and pressure and relief all colliding in his ribcage.

"You’re tense," she observed.

"I WONDER WHY."

She laughed—that low, amused sound that made him want to throw something.

"Relax. I’m working."

"That’s NOT helping."

"Would you prefer I stop?"

"NO—just—" He took a careful breath. "Just keep going."

Her hands continued their work, magic pulsing steadily. And despite everything—the situation, the trauma, the complete inappropriateness of it all—the healing magic was actually working.

His ribs stopped hurting.

The constant ache that had been with him since the fight, the sharp pain with each breath—

Gone.

He could breathe.

Normally.

Deeply.

Could sit up straight without feeling like someone was stabbing him.

"There."

Myra pulled her hands away, examining her work with a satisfied nod.

"Good as new. Try not to get them broken again immediately."

Lucian stood carefully, testing his movement.

No pain. None at all.

He turned to face her.

"Thank you."