Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

Zaeryn slumped into his seat, the cruiser's sleek interior feeling a universe away from the splintered chaos of Tiffany's office. Every muscle screamed with an exhaustion that went far beyond the physical.

Using his Vitae so recklessly had left a hollow ache in his core, a humming weakness that made even thinking a chore. The system's warning about overexertion hadn't been a suggestion; it was a promise.

The positive was that his body must be adapting. The last time he overexerted, he had passed out, however this time he was just tired.

'I need a teacher… someone to show me how to wield Vitae properly,' he thought. Immediately, his mind leapt to the only person he knew was truly suited for the task: Kayla. He crushed the thought as quickly as it came, cursing himself for even considering her.

He risked a glance at Mireille and Arya. They were both warriors, honed and disciplined.

They had unleashed their own power against Pyralis, yet they stood with a steady calm he couldn't begin to fathom. 'I bet they barely feel this,' he thought, a flicker of envy stirring. 'I want to be like that someday—to wield this power without it costing me every ounce of my strength.'

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the cool cushions. The memory of the Dragon Lord's golden eyes, wearing Tiffany's face, flashed behind his lids. 'You are prey.'

Across from him, Arya was watching. He'd felt her eyes on him since they'd taken off, but her gaze had changed. The professional distance had evaporated, replaced by an intense, almost admiring curiosity. A slow, thoughtful smile curved her lips—a sight so out of place it could only mean one thing: she was starting to see him differently.

After everything she had witnessed, she knew he was extraordinary. Who wouldn't be drawn to a man like that? Mireille, perhaps, but certainly not her.

"Arya… is something wrong? I can feel you staring," Zaeryn said, his eyes still closed.

Arya's gaze darted away, flustered at being caught. She hadn't meant to be so obvious, but she couldn't seem to help it.

Zaeryn opened his eyes, only to find her already looking elsewhere. "What?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"N-nothing," she stammered, though the smile only widened, her eyes sparkling. "I just… I never thought a male who could wield Vitae existed. I always saw you as… well, different. But not this different."

"Me neither," he admitted, a wry twist to his mouth.

"Well now, you can be more than just a consort. You could be a Prime Consort," she said, the idea clicking into place in her mind. She leaned forward slightly, her assessment of him no longer just tactical, but personal. Her gaze roamed over his face, lingered on his build, and then met his eyes again.

"The fact that you can wield Vitae—and that you're exceptionally handsome—makes you desirable. Probably the most desirable man in the Queendom."

Zaeryn smirked. "Oh, you still think I should be that, huh?" He remembered Mireille making a sarcastic crack about it before, but hearing it from Arya… she sounded almost serious.

Honestly, in a world with a shortage of men, becoming a professional companion wasn't the worst notion. He'd be more than happy to oblige.

Arya nodded earnestly. "I think it would be unfair if you didn't."

Zaeryn's brow furrowed. "Unfair? How so?"

She shook her head, a small, wry smile on her lips. "To keep a man like you to yourself? Zaeryn, that's not just unfair to all the women who might never get a chance. It's a waste of a national treasure."

From the cockpit, Mireille's dry voice cut in without her turning around. "That was my idea, Arya. Don't start acting like you're his career advisor."

"I'm not stealing your idea," Arya shot back playfully, her eyes never leaving Zaeryn. "I'm just improving the sales pitch." She glanced at him again, her smile infectious. "You could be famous, you know."

Zaeryn laughed, a real, unrestrained sound that broke the last of the tension. The absurdity of it all—the ever-reserved Arya and the definition-of-stoic Mireille debating the intellectual property rights to his potential career as a superpowered gigolo—was just too much.

"That's not a bad idea. Honestly, I just might be," he conceded, shaking his head. "But I doubt it's a safe profession. Imagine if I run into someone who hates men with a passion. I could get hurt, or worse."

"Oh, you're overthinking it," Arya said, waving a dismissive hand. She shifted closer, dropping her voice to a more conspiratorial tone. "While it's true there's a lot of man-hate out there, I think most of those women have just never had a good time. You could change that."

Zaeryn raised an eyebrow. "How?"

Arya's eyes gleamed with mischief. "How? Easy—seduction. I'm sure you're good at it, considering you kissed the Chief Scientist in the middle of the cafeteria."

Zaeryn blinked, then smirked. "Oh… you heard about that?"

Arya nodded. "It's honestly impressive. This is just advice, but I think it would work," she insisted, her expression a perfect blend of sincere analysis and daring mischief.

At that moment, Mireille added, "If you want a faster method, you could create a sex tape with your girlfriend. Think of it as advertising. It would make every woman who watched it desire you. From what Arya and I overheard the other night," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence, "it seems you're quite gifted at providing pleasure."

Zaeryn and Arya both stared, speechless. Did Mireille, the always detached Warlady, just make that suggestion?

"Wow," Zaeryn teased, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I'm truly speechless. Where did the serious Warlady go?"

Even Arya couldn't resist. "Yeah, Mireille."

Mireille replied with a straight face. "I was merely suggesting a sound marketing strategy. You possess a unique asset. In a world like this, you either hide it or you leverage it. Hiding rarely works for long."

Her words carried an undercurrent of seriousness that cut through his amusement.

She was right. A strange, almost audacious strategy began to form in his mind. In a world where men were denied conventional power, perhaps the most unconventional path was the only one left. The intimacy he could offer, the pleasure he could give—it wasn't just a physical act. It was currency. Influence. It was a weapon they would never see coming.

His path to power wasn't through battlefields or political chambers, but through intimacy, connection, and seduction. He had been given the ultimate cheat code.

'System,' he thought, a sense of heartfelt clarity washing over him. 'Analyze Agent Arya's and Mireille's strategic advice.'

The response was instantaneous, appearing in his mind's eye.

[ANALYSIS: Agent Arya's advice is 92% optimal for power progression under the Eros Engine. Leveraging emotional and physical bonds to acquire new abilities and strengthen existing ones is the system's primary directive.]

Zaeryn's lips curved into a slow, genuine smile. It wasn't a joke anymore. It was a mission.

He looked at Arya and Mireille with a new intensity. "I'll think about it," he said, his tone more thoughtful now. "But maybe I'll skip the sex tape. Might be a bit much for a first impression."

Mireille finally glanced back, her expression unreadable. "I think it would be the most impressive," she said flatly. "But I get it. Your family seems… possessive. I doubt they'd approve of you becoming the star of a pornographic holo-vid."

"But I bet your girlfriend might like it," Arya chimed in with a grin. "She seems... adventurous."

"She is." He joked.

"And it's all thanks to your charm?" Arya teased, leaning slightly closer. "She can't resist it, huh?"

"My charm? You sound like you're familiar with it," he teased back, his voice dropping an octave. "Are you immune to it?"

"Maybe," she whispered, her gaze unwavering as she leaned in, as if expecting him to close the distance and claim her lips.

The air between them grew thick, the playful banter dissolving into a palpable tension. This wasn't a joke anymore.

Zaeryn's smile became something slower, more knowing. He saw the genuine curiosity in her eyes, the subtle challenge, and the unspoken invitation. "Maybe isn't a no. Maybe we should test and see if you're immune?"

"Perhaps. But how?" She responded in a whisper.

Her breath hitched, but she held her ground, a daring spark in her eyes. It was all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in, closing the small distance between them. His hand came up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin before he kissed her. It was soft at first, tentative, giving her every chance to pull back.

But Arya didn't. She melted into it, a quiet sigh escaping her as her body relaxed, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.