Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

"Oh? Athea. What did she want?" Zaeryn asked, settling back against the headboard of his bed, the plush pillows cool against his skin.

Ysmeine followed him. She didn't sit beside him on the wide bed. Instead, with a fluid grace that was uniquely hers, she turned and settled sideways onto his lap.

Her back rested against the arm he had propped up near the headboard, her legs curling comfortably beside his hip. The sudden, intimate weight of her body against his side and thighs sent an undeniable jolt through him.

Her warmth seeped through his thin pants, and her signature floral scent enveloped him, thick and close. He instinctively fought down his body's immediate, betraying reaction, acutely aware of her closeness, the soft curve of her hip pressing firmly against his stomach, the subtle shift of her breathing.

This wasn't the casual comfort of him resting his head in her lap; this was different. Closer. More deliberate.

"So, Athea… what did she want?" he prompted again, forcing his voice to stay level, meeting her smoky green eyes now that she was settled comfortably against him.

"Primarily, to check on you, darling," Ysmeine murmured, her voice soft, almost a purr. Her hand came up, fingers gently threading through the still-damp strands of his hair at his temple, a familiar gesture made new by their proximity. "But yes," she sighed, a hint of weariness entering her tone, "she was also… quite unhappy."

"Why's that?" His hand found the curve of her waist naturally, resting there almost possessively, feeling the warmth and softness through the silk of her dress.

Ysmeine's fingers stilled in his hair. She met his eyes, her gaze serious now, "Did you meet Princess Valerie yesterday?" Her tone held a worried, stern edge that made him tense slightly. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"Yes, but it was purely by accident," Zaeryn explained quickly, recounting the collision outside Stellan Innovations, feeling a bit defensive under her scrutiny. "We just bumped into each other. Why would Athea be mad about that, anyway? It's not like I revealed anything."

"She's worried about you," Ysmeine sighed, leaning back slightly against his arm, though she didn't remove herself from his lap. "And technically," she admitted, her expression tightening, "she's more frustrated with me than with you. She believes I shouldn't allow you quite so much freedom, precisely because it risks unforeseen incidents, like encountering Valerie, or your previous trouble with the Fade."

Zaeryn shifted restlessly beneath her weight, annoyed. He was not still a child needing constant supervision. "It was nothing. Valerie didn't even recognize me. She has no idea who I am."

"No," Ysmeine agreed softly, her gaze holding his. "But she took a selfie. With you." She let that sink in before delivering the real blow, her voice dropping. "And she showed it to Viora. Now Viora knows you exist."

Zaeryn's sarcastic grin returned instantly, though it felt breakable, stretched thin over a sudden chill. "Oh, wonderful," he drawled, tilting his head back slightly to look up at her properly, the movement bringing their faces even closer. "I'm surprised Athea is finally letting people in on her dirty little secret. I thought keeping me hidden away was her favorite pastime."

Even as he said it, a contradictory thought surfaced, that secrecy, however chafing, had kept him safe for eighteen years.

"Athea didn't tell her," Ysmeine corrected gently but firmly, her hand coming to rest on his chest, right over his heart. "Valerie just boasted about meeting a handsome anomaly.

Viora apparently already suspected Athea was hiding something, she found Athea looking at images somehow, maybe pictures of you I sent years ago, and connected the dots when she saw Valerie's picture. She figured it out herself."

The mention of old pictures, images of his childhood sent by Ysmeine to a mother he'd never known, pricked at something raw. He pushed the thought away. "So… Viora knows. My sister." The word felt foreign, detached.

"What's she like?" he asked, the question escaping before he could stop it, a flicker of genuine, unwanted curiosity.

Ysmeine looked surprised by the question, then shook her head softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I've never met her properly, Zae." A tentative smile touched her lips. "But… from what Athea lets slip, she's… formidable.

Dedicated. Fiercely loyal to the Queendom." She paused. "If you really want to meet her… maybe I could ask Athea? See if it's possible?"

The thought of meeting this unknown sister, another piece of the family that had discarded him, sent a complicated mix of longing and resentment through him.

He paused, considering. "Maybe… but only if Viora wants to," he amended cautiously. He wouldn't force a connection that wasn't wanted, not even out of curiosity.

Ysmeine nodded, accepting his answer, her relief evident. "Alright, darling. I'll see what Athea says."

She shifted slightly, settling more comfortably against him in his lap, the movement undeniably intimate. She leaned forward, her jaw resting on his shoulder, her earlier seriousness melting away, replaced by the warm, possessive affection he was so familiar with, though it felt intensely different now, charged with the energy between them.

His body responded instantly, heat pooling low in his belly, his earlier arousal returning with a vengeance. Gods, she was intoxicating.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes twinkling.

"Enough about Athea and her daughters." Her hand slid up his chest, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. "Tell me more about your day. Any new friends I should know about? Or," her voice dropped to a teasing whisper, her gaze flicking to his lips, "any new girlfriends?"

Zaeryn chuckled, the sound slightly rough. "I did make three more friends today. Ingrid, Genevieve and Morticia. And Ingrid invited me to her house tonight for… must be a party or just a hangout."

As soon as he finished, Zaeryn's wristwatch made a soft chime. He glanced down, tapping the screen. Ingrid's face appeared, her stormy eyes bright with a friendly energy he hadn't seen earlier.

"Hey, Zaeryn," her voice came through, warm and casual. "Got your contact from Director Sorina. Just wanted to give you the location for tonight." She rattled off coordinates for a residence within the sectors' more affluent residential areas, confirming it was her place.

"Starts around 20:00. Just... show up whenever. It's pretty chill."

"Okay, got it. I'll be there," Zaeryn confirmed, a grin spreading across his face.

"Great! Gotta run, still making preparations. See you later!" Ingrid gave a quick wave before the connection ended.

Ysmeine's expression shifted, the playful intimacy cooling into something more maternal. Her eyebrow arched. "Already getting invites to girls' homes?" Her tone was light, but her eyes held that familiar flicker of protective concern. "Just be careful, darling.

And please, reach out to me or someone if you're in trouble."

The shift was subtle but deliberate, she was stepping back into her role as guardian, putting distance between the heat of moments before and the practical reality of him going out into the world.

"I will," he promised, his grin softening slightly at her worry. "And I'll have Mireille and Arya with me, remember?"

"Right," Ysmeine conceded, though the worry didn't entirely leave her eyes. She gracefully pushed herself up from his lap, the loss of her weight leaving him feeling both relieved and bereft.

She stood for a moment, her smoky green eyes sweeping over him, taking in the casual lounge clothes he wore. "A gathering with your new friends," she mused, her voice now brisk, businesslike. "You'll want to make the right impression."

She turned, gliding toward his wardrobe with a newfound purpose. "Come on," she called over her shoulder. "Let's find you something perfect to wear. We can't have you showing up looking like you just rolled out of bed, even if," her lips curved into a measured smile as she glanced back at him, the earlier charge carefully banked, "that is a look you pull off remarkably well."

More than two hours later, Zaeryn stood before the full-length mirror in his room, studying his reflection.

Ysmeine circled him slowly, her eyes narrowed in critical assessment, though a proud smile played at the corners of her lips. She had, indeed, taken charge of his attire for the evening.

He wore dark trousers that hinted at the lean muscle beneath without being overly tight. The shirt was grey, made of a subtly textured fabric that caught the light, with a turtleneck that framed his jaw. Simple, but effective, leffortlessly cool without being flashy.

"Perfect," Ysmeine declared finally, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Her gaze lingered, appreciative but now firmly maternal. "Sophisticated, but not trying too hard. Exactly the right balance for making seniors take notice without looking like you're desperate for their approval."

Zaeryn checked his wristwatch. 19:45. "I think it's time to go."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, a brief, familiar gesture that carried none of the weight it might have hours ago, before hurrying out of his room. Whatever had simmered between them earlier had been carefully set aside, at least for now.

He found Mireille and Arya waiting near the entrance, already briefed on their destination. Arya offered him a warm smile, her eyes tracking over his outfit with approval.

"Looking sharp," she commented.

The cruiser ride was quick and silent, navigating the Citadel's transport channels with smooth efficiency. As they approached the designated residence area, the architecture shifted, becoming grander, more ornate. Residences here were spacious, set apart with private gardens and glowing energy fields.

Mireille brought the cruiser down on a designated landing pad a short distance from Ingrid's residence, a sleek, multi-leveled structure built into a gentle slope, its windows glowing warmly against the artificial twilight. Music drifted faintly on the cool air.

"We'll maintain position here," Mireille stated, her gaze sweeping the perimeter. "Standard security protocols. Check in every hour."

"Got it," Zaeryn nodded. He glanced at Arya. "Wish me luck?"

"You won't need it," she said, her smile widening. "Just... have fun. You've earned it."

With a final smirk, Zaeryn hopped out and strode toward the entrance, the low thrum of music growing louder, pulling him toward the light and noise of the gathering.