Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

The twilight filtering through the tall office window painted the empty desks in long, distorted shadows. The academy was silent, the usual hum of technology and youthful energy having faded with the sun.

Professor Tiffany stood motionless by the window, her gaze fixed on the sleek, dark cruiser that had just settled silently at the academy's main entrance. Her reflection in the glass was a mask of placid beauty, but her eyes held a cold, predatory focus.

To any observer, the room was empty save for her. But she was not alone.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her hand flew to her temple. "Nghh..." She gritted her teeth, a fine tremor running through her frame as she fought a battle no one could see.

For a split second, her casual focus wavered, replaced by a look of sheer, desperate terror.

«I would advise against that, little professor,» a voice rumbled in her mind, cold and impossibly heavy. «Resistance is... painful.»

Her teeth clenched harder, a silent scream of defiance in her eyes. She squeezed them shut as she fought the mental battle for control. When they opened again, the terror was gone. The struggle was over. Her expression was once again placid, her gaze empty and subservient. The strings had been pulled tightened once again.

"He is here," she spoke, her voice a soft, respectful murmur. A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips, a hollow imitation of her usual temptation. "Do you want me to do something to him? As it stands, he is the only threat."

The deep, guttural voice answered, resonating not in her ears but in the very marrow of her bones. It sounded like stone grinding against ancient stone, a sound that held the weight of millennia.

«Not yet. I will offer him a choice. A place to serve by my side.» The voice paused, laced with the chilling finality of a death sentence. «If he declines, then he dies.»

"Yes, my Lord," Tiffany replied, her lips barely moving. "Good thing, he suspects nothing. His mind is occupied with a trivial matter—a forbidden codex he fears I will report. He's young and predictable. He brought his guardians, but they wait outside, just as I anticipated."

She paused, a flicker of anticipation in her eyes. "To make it easier, I can eliminate the women and secure the boy. The Council keeps him on a tight leash; he is now under their control. We could present this not as an attack, but as his liberation."

Her voice dropped, laced with cunning. "We can offer him a place where he can be truly free. He might even thank us for it. Shall I proceed?"

A long silence stretched, filled only by the whisper of the ventilation system.

«No.»

The command was absolute, carrying an authority that permitted no argument. Her strategic proposal was dismissed without consideration.

«You will do neither. Only follow my orders.» The voice's tone was cold, a clear reprimand.

«The boy is... unique. His immunity is a variable I did not foresee. My curse was designed to affect every male in this world. His very arrival, and now his survival, defies its parameters.»

The voice paused, letting the weight of the revelation sink in.

«Killing him now would be a near impossibility and a waste of a potential asset.»

Tiffany's posture remained unchanged, but her mind reeled at the command. "An asset, my Lord?" she questioned, unable to hide a flicker of confusion. "He is an unforeseen anomaly. A threat to your design."

«Every anomaly is a potential weapon, if wielded correctly,» the voice corrected her, its tone laced with ancient patience. «Your task has changed. You are not his executioner. You are his first test. Probe his mind. Offer him the power and freedom he secretly craves. I want to see where his loyalties lie. I want to know if his heart can be corrupted.»

A slow, predatory smile finally touched Tiffany's lips as she understood the new shape of her mission. The hunt was off. The seduction was on. "So, it's a temptation, then," she murmured, the prospect glittering in her eyes.

«He is a loose thread in my grand design,» the Dragon Lord's voice concluded, the sound already fading like a distant, cosmic echo.

«Learn if he can be woven into the pattern... or if he must be dealt with completely. Do not fail me, Tiffany.»

The presence vanished, leaving Tiffany alone once more in the profound silence. The cold weight in her bones receded, and she was just a professor in an empty office again.

She turned away from the window, her expression smoothing back into one of amused, seductive confidence.

Just then, the soft click of the door mechanism sounded through the quiet hall.

Tiffany's smile widened as she moved to lean against her desk, ready to welcome her student.

The office door hissed open. Zaeryn walked into Tiffany's office, a space that was clearly more than just a place of work. As a senior professor, she had her own private quarters, a spacious sanctuary of calm and control, unlike the cramped, shared cubicles assigned to junior instructors.

The air was warm and scented with something faintly spicy and floral, a smell that Zaeryn has since long come to associate with her. It felt less like a teacher's office and more like a predator's tastefully decorated den.

Bookshelves filled with scholarly texts lined one wall, and the furniture was a sleek, minimalist black. In a world of holograms and data-slates that made such things obsolete, her office felt almost ancient. The presence of so many physical books made it clear she was into collecting relics of a past age; a woman who appreciated things with history and weight.

Tiffany leaned against her large desk, the very picture of amused, seductive confidence.

Zaeryn closed the door, the soft click echoing in the quiet. 'Wouldn't want any interruptions,' he told himself as he made sure no one can just walk through without first knocking, his gaze locking on to Tiffany. She was waiting for him in all her stunning beauty, just as he'd expected. The twilight cast her in a silhouette of sharp, elegant curves, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across her lips.

"Zaeryn," she purred, her voice echoing slightly in the vacant room. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied, stepping forward. "You said I was in trouble. I'm assuming the War-Ladies aren't on their way for an overdue library book?"

She smirked, a look both seductive and predatory. "The only trouble you're in, Zaeryn, is the kind you make for yourself. You're far too curious for your own good."

She pushed away from the desk and began to walk toward him. Her movements were fluid, deliberate. This wasn't the slightly flustered, flirty professor from their last encounter. There was a new, chilling confidence to her, a sense of purpose that made the hairs on his arms stand up.

"I'm curious though," she asked, giving him a look that was half seductive. "What is it that you want?"

"What do you mean?" Her countered.

"That codex." she began, stopping just a few feet from him, "spoke of things men aren't capable of. About power. About changing the 'natural order' of things. Tell me, is that what you want? Is that why you picked that codex out specifically?"

Zaeryn maintained his easy-going smirk, though an internal alarm was beginning to sound. Her questions were too pointed, too philosophical. She was not blackmailing him, and that was cool, but what was she up to with those questions?

"I just want to pass my exams and not get turned into a lab rat. Is that so much to ask?" He responded.

Tiffany let out a low, disbelieving chuckle. "You are a terrible liar, Zaeryn." She closed the remaining distance, her presence filling his personal space. She reached out, her fingers cool against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. "That fire in your eyes says you want much more than to simply 'pass exams'."

The moment she touched him, her touch was feather-light, yet heavy with unspoken meaning. No—it wasn't just her touch. It was her. Zaeryn didn't feel like he was standing before the same stunning, beautiful professor anymore. An energy emanated from her, suffocating and sinister, pressing against him like a physical weight.

The air in his lungs felt thin, and every instinct screamed at him to pull away.

Beneath her fingertips, his pulse quickened.

"You carry yourself differently than the other men," she continued, her voice a hypnotic whisper. "There's confidence... resilience. Almost as if you've faced something truly terrible recently... and walked away completely unscathed."

Zaeryn's jaw tightened. She was right—he had faced something terrible recently, a Fade. But how could she possibly know that? "I don't know what you're talking about." He said.

Her smile turned even more playful and seductive, her fingers tightened ever so slightly on his face. "Don't you? Let's stop playing games. I know you were brought to the Citadel. I know you survived an encounter with a Fade in Sector Seven. And I know," she leaned closer, her voice dropping to an alluring whisper, "that you stood before the entire Council and didn't break."

Zaeryn's blood ran cold. The smirk was wiped clean from his face, replaced by pure, unadulterated shock. Weird.

"How... How could you possibly know that?" he asked, his voice low and sharp. That information was sealed. There was no way a simple professor should know any of it.

A strange, almost devout light entered Tiffany's eyes. The playful seduction was gone, replaced by the chilling certainty of a true believer. "My master has eyes everywhere," she whispered, her thumb brushing over his lips not as a tease, but as a brand. "He sees potential where the Matriarchy only sees a threat."