Transmigrated into a reversed world

Kyle gave the woman one last look before leaving the torture room.

He headed toward his room with mud-covered Blue following behind.

Unlocking his door, his brows furrowed in disgust at the mud pawprints on the ground. He shut his door quickly, almost hitting Blue's nose.

"You're not going in there with your dirty paws." Kyle's expression was filled with rejection, wincing at the thought of dirt staining his floor.

Blue knew his master's illness was acting up again and didn't bother to argue—knowing it was pointless.

"Meow…" Letting out a frustrated cry—hating bath time—he padded toward the empty room across from Kyle's.

Kyle unlocked the door and stepped aside, showing no intention of helping Blue wash.

Blue sighed like a human, resigned to having a master so obsessed with cleanliness and order.

Hearing the water turn on, Kyle let out a sigh of relief, though the muddy stains on the ground kept catching his eye. Unable to ignore it, he called someone to clean up.

He tapped his hologram screen, scrolling to the mansion's servant list. Passing the dim names, he stopped at one glowing green—showing the staff was currently awake.

"Come to the top floor with cleaning tools." Kyle sent the message and headed to the bathroom to check on Blue.

Seeing the mud washed off, Kyle returned to his room and retrieved Blue's body wash and towel.

Pulling his sleeves back, he squatted and gave Blue a thorough bath, scrubbing his paws and nails clean before turning off the water.

Blue's mood sank as his matted fur clung to his body like a drenched rat.

"We need to trim your fur… some hairs are longer than others," Kyle muttered, scrutinizing Blue.

"Hiss!" Blue lunged at him, claws out—Kyle's comment was the last straw. He had bathed, and now Kyle was talking about trimming his precious fur.

Kyle dodged effortlessly, already expecting Blue to blow up, but he still planned to trim the fur no matter how hard Blue fought.

"I'm not cutting my fur! What eyes of yours saw my hair needed trimming?! It's perfect—meow!" Blue growled, refusing to back down and leapt again.

Unfortunately, Kyle caught him by the scruff. Blue thrashed, waving his claws as he struggled to break free.

"I don't know why you always struggle—it's you who ends up prancing around to show off later." Kyle clicked his tongue, amused by his two-faced beast.

"Knock." They froze at the sound—then Kyle remembered he had sent for someone.

"Enter."

Camille pushed the unlocked door open and saw the butler drying a cat in his arms.

"Sir, I brought the mop with me," she said, her gaze dropping to the pawprints on the marble floor.

"Clean this and the prints you saw on your way up," Kyle instructed in a serious tone and turned to leave, but Camille's hesitant voice stopped him.

"B-Butler, please—I want to ask if there's any news on the fighters that went out… my sister is among them." Camille stumbled but quickly straightened her tone and asked politely.

The room fell silent. Camille's hope wavered, assuming Kyle wouldn't respond.

But she didn't take back her words—she needed any news of her sister's well-being, even if it meant getting on the butler's bad side.

"There's no static Nexus where they are… Get to work—and this is the last time you ask anything about the boss," Kyle warned coldly before leaving the room.

"Thank you," Camille called out after him. Grateful he responded, even if the answer wasn't satisfying.

'Which place doesn't have a Nexus?' The question echoed in her mind as she began mopping the floor—silently praying her sister was safe, wherever she was.

….

Cyra carried Zane from the bathroom and laid him on fresh sheets.

Zane groaned, too tired to move. Red marks covered his body, and scratches lined his back.

Cyra put on a bathrobe and left the room, but not before pressing a kiss to Zane's forehead.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and she went in search of Viktor.

Her feet padded silently across the floor as she reached Viktor's room. She slowly turned the knob.

Viktor stirred at the sound—his instincts already trained to be cautious.

But sensing a familiar presence, he relaxed and sank deeper into sleep, missing Cyra's visit.

A smile lit her eyes at the sight of his careless sleeping form—legs tangled in the covers, one foot dangling off the edge, arms spread wide.

The bed dipped as she sat beside Viktor's shoulders, leaning in to cradle him gently in her arms.

Her fingers glided along the line of his neck, pausing at the soft pulse beneath his skin. With a slow flick of her tongue, she numbed the spot where her fangs would soon sink in.

Viktor let out a soft moan, instinctively leaning deeper into her embrace, still lost in sleep.

Once the numbing effect set in, she sank her fangs into his vein—drinking slowly as Viktor's face flushed and soft, pleasured moans slipped from his lips.

He thought it was just a spring dream, unaware that Cyra was feeding from him.

Entranced by the rich taste of arousal coursing through his warm blood, Cyra drank deeply, unable to resist savouring every drop.

Her grey eyes darkened as she drank, but she stopped just in time—any more, and she would've drained him.

Withdrawing her fangs, she licked the blood trail clean and sealed the wounds, then gently laid him back down.

She tucked him in, pulled the covers over him, brushed his curls behind his ear, and kissed him lightly on the lips before slipping out of the room.

She wandered the castle, her steps eventually leading her to the library.

Cyra ran her fingers across the shelves until she stopped at a crimson book. Picking it up, she curled on a couch and began to read—time passing quietly.

Meanwhile, the women outside slept with one eye open—more cautious in these unfamiliar surroundings, with no boss or her husband around to protect them.

"How does this place even exist? I thought Chaos Space was just a myth from mankind's history," Amelia said aloud, her voice laced with curiosity and awe at the powerful monsters they had encountered on the way here.

Arya and Erica shared the same thoughts. The three of them slept in one tent.

"Maybe it exists, but we just don't know how to find one. Don't you think those aristocratic women do?" Erica added thoughtfully.

She believed this world was far bigger than people realized—only those at the top truly knew anything.

"Yeah… let's sleep. We might have a long day tomorrow. Goodnight," Amelia advised, ending the discussion.

"Goodnight," Erica replied, getting comfortable.

"Night." Arya's voice was like a mosquito's whisper—so soft that Amelia and Erica almost didn't hear it.

In the other tents, conversations fa

ded into silence, the night settling in as the desert breeze carried a dusty scent through the air.