—RING
—RING
—RING
The sharp, electronic wail of the digital alarm clock cut through the quiet morning air like a jagged knife. The sound bounced off the thin apartment walls, relentless and loud.
—SMASH!
A heavy hand slammed down onto the top of the plastic clock with enough force to crack the cheap casing. The ringing died instantly, replaced by a low, irritated groan.
"Argh!"
Max woke up, his face buried deep in his pillow. He turned his head sideways, opening one amber eye to glare at the cracked digital display of the clock. The glowing red numbers read 7:30 in the morning.
He clicked his tongue in deep annoyance, the sound loud in the silent room.
"I shouldn't have set it. It's early," Max muttered, his voice thick and raspy from sleep.
He had barely gotten any rest. His mind had been racing all night, turning over the information about the elusive serial killer, the dark web broker's warnings, and the chilling reality of the black van parked outside his building. The paranoia of his impending death, scheduled for exactly one year from now, was already clawing at the edges of his mind.
He pushed the heavy blankets off his legs and forced himself to sit up on the edge of the mattress. He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, trying to scrub the exhaustion from his features. He needed to get moving. If he was going to survive in this world without the immense dark magic of his past lives, he needed to make sure his human body was in peak physical condition.
He stood up, his bare feet pressing into the carpet. He stretched his arms high above his head, feeling the satisfying pop of his shoulder joints, and began to do some light warm-ups to wake his dormant muscles. He rolled his neck from side to side, feeling the tight tendons stretch.
"Auggghhhh…." Max groaned again, covering his mouth as a massive yawn escaped him.
He walked over to the small kitchen area and grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet. He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run for a second before filling the glass to the brim.
—GULP!
—GULP!
He drank the water rapidly, feeling the cold liquid slide down his throat and hit his empty stomach. It was a refreshing shock to his system, washing away the lingering grogginess of the morning.
"Ahhh…" Max gasped slightly as he placed the empty glass down on the counter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His amber eyes looked sharp and focused now. The sleepy neighbor was gone; the disciplined assassin was taking over.
"Let's do some push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups," Max said to the empty room, setting his mental schedule for the morning. "Like 20 reps of it, and 20 sets too. That should be a good start to rebuild my base stamina."
He walked over to the corner of his living room and unrolled a thick, black exercise mat. He smoothed out the edges with his foot. He then checked his pull-up bar, which he had securely installed in the doorway leading to the bathroom. He gripped the metal bar and gave it a hard tug to ensure it could handle his body weight. It held firm.
For the next few hours, the small apartment transformed into a private training ground.
Max stripped off his shirt, tossing it onto the sofa, and got to work. He started with the push-ups. He lowered himself to the mat, keeping his back perfectly straight, his core tight. He pushed up, his muscles contracting smoothly. One, two, three. He focused on his breathing, exhaling on the exertion. By the end of the first ten sets, a light sheen of sweat had formed on his back, making the faded scars of his past life glisten in the morning light filtering through the window.
He moved to the sit-ups next, locking his feet under the edge of the heavy sofa. He moved with a mechanical rhythm, his abdominal muscles burning as he crunched upward. He closed his eyes, using the physical pain of the workout to ground himself in reality. This was a familiar pain. This was the pain of a human body pushing its limits, entirely different from the agonizing magical burns he had endured as the Dark Lord.
Finally, he moved to the pull-up bar. He jumped up, gripping the metal tightly. He pulled his chin over the bar, lowering himself slowly to maximize the tension in his back and biceps.
Max spent a total of nearly three hours engaged in his intense exercise routine. He did not take long breaks. He moved from one exercise to the next with brutal efficiency, driven by the knowledge that the green-eyed stalker in the black van was already watching him. He needed his speed. He needed his strength.
After completing the final set of pull-ups, his arms trembled slightly as he dropped back down to the floor. His chest heaved with deep, controlled breaths. His entire body was slick with sweat, his muscles pumped and tight.
He walked over to the sofa, grabbed a clean white towel, and draped it over his neck. He began to wipe the heavy sweat from his face and chest, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. The workout had cleared his head.
Just as he was about to head toward the shower, a sudden, sharp sound echoed through the apartment.
—DING DONG!
—DING DONG!
Max froze. His amber eyes instantly darted toward the front door. The relaxed posture of a man finishing his morning workout vanished in a fraction of a second.
"COMING!" Max shouted back, though his voice betrayed none of the sudden tension coiling in his chest.
He raised an eyebrow, his mind racing through the possibilities.
'Who the hell is it?' Max thought inwardly, his breathing slowing down to a silent rhythm. 'The landlady? No, I remember Irmela has her morning rounds in the basement right now. A delivery guy? I didn't place any orders. The mail doesn't arrive until noon.'
The paranoia from the previous night rushed back in. The green-eyed stalker. The black van. Was the killer bold enough to come directly to his door in the broad daylight of the morning?
Max did not hesitate. He walked swiftly and silently toward the small wooden table near the entryway. He opened the top drawer and reached inside. His hand wrapped around the cold, textured grip of a suppressed 9mm handgun he kept hidden there for emergencies.
He pulled the gun out, his finger resting safely beside the trigger guard. He held the weapon firmly and hid it securely behind his back, pressing the cold steel against his spine so it remained completely out of sight.
He walked toward the door, his footsteps making zero sound against the carpet. He positioned himself slightly to the side of the doorframe, a tactical habit to avoid being in the direct line of fire if someone decided to shoot through the wood.
He reached out with his free hand and slowly, carefully turned the lock. He opened the door just a crack, ready to bring the gun forward at the slightest sign of danger.
—CREEEEEAAAKKK!!!
The door swung open a few inches, revealing the bright hallway.
"Hey Max, it's me, Bell!" a cheerful voice called out.
Standing in the hallway was Bellatrix. She was waving her hands enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face. She was wearing the exact same white lab coat from yesterday, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, and her gray eyes looked wide and awake.
Max let out a long, silent breath through his nose. He felt the tense muscles in his shoulders drop.
'False alarm,' Max sighed inwardly. He closed his eyes for a brief second, chastising himself. 'Goddamnit, why am I getting more paranoid? Not everyone knocking on a door is a hitman.'
He pushed the door open wider, keeping his right arm casually tucked behind his back to conceal the weapon. He immediately switched his mood, forcing the coldness from his amber eyes and replacing it with a warm, formal smile.
"Good morning, Bell," Max greeted her, his voice smooth and friendly.
"Yeah, good morning! So, I have something important to talk about with you…" Bell said, her initial cheerfulness fading slightly. She began fidgeting with her fingers, her gray eyes darting nervously down the hallway.
Max nodded slowly as he read her tense body language. The subtle shift in her posture told him she wasn't here just for casual morning small talk.
"I see," Max said, stepping back and gesturing inside. "Let's go inside, especially if this is really an urgent and private matter."
"IT IS! Ah—ah, I'm sorry…. it is," Bell said, her voice accidentally rising in volume before she quickly hushed herself.
She let out a nervous, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Hehe…"
Max opened his door wide, stepping out of the way to let Bellatrix enter his apartment. As she walked past him, he smoothly transferred the gun from behind his back, hiding it against his hip as he closed the door behind her.
Bellatrix took a few steps into the living room and stopped. She looked around, her eyes landing on the exercise mat and the pull-up bar in the doorway. She then turned to look at Max, her gaze trailing over his bare, heavily muscled chest and the tight six-pack of his abs glistening with sweat. A faint pink blush appeared on her cheeks.
"Woah, you also do calisthenics too?" Bellatrix asked, trying to keep her eyes focused on his face and away from his torso.
Max nodded casually, wiping his forehead with the towel hanging around his neck.
"Yeah. I do it when I'm free, or bored, and don't really have anything else to do at the very least. It keeps the mind sharp," he replied easily.
Bellatrix nodded, taking another look around his living space to distract herself. As she surveyed the walls of his room, her gray eyes suddenly locked onto something.
Pinned to the wall near his television were several large, glossy posters. They featured gorgeous, tanned women wearing very revealing bikinis, posing on white sandy beaches. Another poster showed a stunning red-haired woman wearing a highly provocative set of black lace lingerie.
Bellatrix froze. Her mouth dropped open.
"EIIIKKK!!!" Bellatrix gasped loudly, taking a step back in pure shock.
She pointed a trembling finger at the wall, her face turning a bright shade of crimson.
"A-are those posters from the models who do photoshoots on the beach not far from here?!" Bellatrix asked, her voice squeaking slightly.
Max casually glanced over his shoulder at the posters. He didn't flinch. He didn't try to hide them or make excuses. He just looked back at her and gave a small, self-deprecating shrug.
"Yeah, they are," Max said calmly. He offered her a faint, slightly crooked smile. "I'm a bit of a loser, aren't I?"
Bellatrix rapidly shook her head, her blonde ponytail whipping back and forth.
"NO! NO! NO! I—I don't mean to call you that!" she stammered quickly, waving her hands in a panic. "It's just... most of the men I've met don't usually have things like this openly displayed in their living room. Or, at the very least, they quickly remove them when they invite a girl over! But I mean, it's my fault since this is an unannounced visit. I shouldn't be judging your interior decorating."
Max chuckled at her frantic apology. He walked over to the small table and subtly slid the handgun back into the drawer, pushing it shut with his hip.
"Haha… you should not say sorry," Max said, turning back to face her. "It's my fault too for not removing them when I had the chance. I really should have, since there's always a chance that Lady Irmela might drop by for an inspection. She is the recent land owner after her uncle died. He was my former land owner. God rest his soul."
Bellatrix slowly nodded, though her eyes kept nervously darting toward the red-haired model in the black lingerie.
"So, let's get back to the topic at hand…" Bellatrix said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer, less awkward territory.
"Ahh, yeah. You said you wanted to talk about something?" Max asked.
As Bellatrix turned her head completely to stare at the poster, seemingly mesmerized by the sheer confidence of the model, Max took the brief opportunity. He reached his hand to the table, fully pushed the drawer shut, and turned the small key to lock it, securing his weapon out of sight.
"Yeah, so.…" Bellatrix started, still looking at the posters. Her voice dropped to a serious whisper. "I saw the black van again. Early this morning."
Max stopped wiping his neck with the towel. His amber eyes narrowed sharply.
"What…?" Max said, his tone dropping its friendly warmth.
"Say that to me again?" Max asked, stepping closer to her. "You said you saw the exact same black van, right?"
Bellatrix finally pulled her gaze away from the wall and looked up at him. She nodded her head firmly.
"Yes. The same one. And it seems that the driver is definitely stalking you," Bellatrix said. Her gray eyes widened with concern, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, clearly worried for his safety.
Max raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips despite the serious news. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, leaning his face down slightly toward hers.
"How did you know that the driver is stalking me specifically?" Max asked, his voice dropping an octave into a teasing tone. "Did you go and ask about my personal information and room number to Lady Irmela? Hmmmm?"
Bellatrix's face, which had just started to cool down, instantly flushed a deep, furious red. Her gray eyes widened in sheer panic at being caught.
"Ye—yes! Hiccup!" Bellatrix stammered, letting out a loud, embarrassing hiccup right in the middle of her confession.
Max let out a loud, genuine laugh, leaning back and giving her some space.
"Sorry. Sorry, I was just teasing you," Max said, waving a hand to calm her down.
Bellatrix clicked her tongue loudly, crossing her arms over her white lab coat. She glared up at him, though the blush on her cheeks ruined her intimidating look.
"That was not funny! You know…. hmph!" she huffed, looking away toward the window.
Max laughed again, finding her reactions incredibly refreshing. She was genuine. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, a stark contrast to the deceitful nobles and cunning warriors he had dealt with for centuries.
"Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist," Max apologized properly. He then offered her a sincere nod. "But seriously, thanks for giving me the information. I really appreciate it, Bell. It helps me know what to expect."
Bellatrix nodded slowly, her annoyance fading. She uncrossed her arms and looked back at the wall, her gaze landing on the posters once again.
"You know, most men would always talk about it and get incredibly shy if a woman saw something like this," Bellatrix said, her tone curious. "They would try to rip it off the wall or make up some elaborate excuse. But you…"
She tilted her head, analyzing him like one of her chemical experiments.
"….You seem like you don't mind it at all. It's like you don't care that a woman is standing inside of your room, and you aren't getting shameful about the fact that she now knows your hidden pervert fetishes."
Max reached up and scratched the back of his head, letting out a soft chuckle.
"Haha… seriously, I do experience a bit of shame about it, but…"
He paused, looking at the posters, and then back at her. In his past, he had hidden his true self behind the terrifying mask of the Dark Lord. He had spent lifetimes playing a role, hiding his fears, his desires, and his humanity. He was tired of hiding. If he liked trashy posters of models, he was going to own it.
"…I want to freely show my true nature and the type of women I am interested in, y'know. I don't see the point in putting up a fake, perfect front for people anymore."
Bellatrix smiled softly, understanding his perspective. She nodded her head. "I see, I see. Honesty over appearances."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Then, Bellatrix slowly raised her hand and pointed her index finger directly toward the large poster of the red-haired woman wearing the scandalous black lingerie.
She bit her lower lip nervously, her gray eyes darting between the poster and Max's face.
"How about… I've cosplay something like that?" she blurted out suddenly, her voice trembling slightly. "I—I mean, try to be a model for a bit?" she added, looking down at her shoes shyly.
Max blinked, completely caught off guard. He stared at her, then let out a loud bark of laughter.
"Seriously?" Max replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought you would hate something like that. I mean, most professional women hate models like her, y'know. Because it's really just blatant fan service for guys. And you're a serious scientist."
Bellatrix's face turned an even deeper shade of red. She brought her hands up to her chest, pressing the tips of her two index fingers together repeatedly in a classic gesture of extreme nervousness.
"I—I mean, if it's a fan service only for you… since you gave me that chocolate to apologize yesterday…" she stammered, her voice dropping so low Max had to strain to hear her. "…I don't really care about showing you some of my skin, y'know."
Max's eyes widened slightly. He took a step forward, wanting to make sure he heard her correctly.
"Wha—what?!" Max asked, wanting her to clarify her quiet murmurs.
Realizing what she had just offered out loud, Bellatrix panicked. The sheer embarrassment of her own words caught up to her rational brain. She violently waved both her hands in the air, backing away toward the front door.
"No—nothing! I didn't say anything! Just forget it!" she practically shouted, her voice cracking under the pressure.
She let out a massive sigh of defeat.
Max watched her panic, letting out a heavy sigh of his own. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly shifted from serious to intensely awkward and thick with unspoken tension.
After a long minute of absolute silence between the two of them, with Bellatrix staring at the floor and Max rubbing his forehead, Max was the first to speak and break the ice.
"Whoo… it seems this room is starting to get a little hot, huh?" Max said, trying to lighten the mood. He gestured toward his sweaty torso with the towel. "Can you leave now, please? I really need to go hit the shower before I start smelling the place up."
Bellatrix jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. She grabbed the door handle like it was a lifeline.
"Ahh! Yeah, yeah, sure. Of course. Umm…"
Max raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish. "Hmm?"
Bellatrix twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open just enough to squeeze through. She looked back at him, her gray eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate burst of courage.
"You—you can come by my room later!" Bellatrix yelled out.
Before Max could even respond, she darted out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her with a loud, forceful slam.
—BANG!
Max stood alone in his living room, staring at the closed wooden door. He let out a deep, rumbling laugh and shook his head in amusement.
"Sigh. She could have just said it properly," Max muttered to himself, walking over to pick up his discarded shirt from the sofa. "She could have just told me straight up that she wants me to buy that specific lingerie and give it to her as a gift so she can show it off to me. Women are so complicated. Sigh…."
He reached up and touched his temples, a nostalgic smile forming on his lips. He wasn't dense. He wasn't a foolish protagonist who couldn't read the obvious signs a woman was putting down. He had experienced something very similar to this specific type of awkward flirtation before.
His mind drifted back to his former lover, the dark blue-haired elven woman from his past regressions.
She had acted exactly this shy and flustered when they did their first sex. She had been too proud to ask for intimacy directly, so she laid him into a trap by 'showing him if this lingerie suits to her', making an elaborate excuse about needing his opinion on the fabric. She had feigned ignorance, acting like she couldn't fasten the clasps, just so he would have to step in as he tries to help her wears it. The resulting tension had led to the most emotionally profound night of his many lives.
"Seriously… she can just tell me she wants to cosplay as her," Max said, looking over at the poster of the red-haired model. He let out another fond sigh. It was nice to deal with normal, human awkwardness again instead of dark curses and magical betrayals.
"Whatever. Let's just go to the shower. I seem to smell stink from that workout. Luckily, it seems she didn't mind the smell too much. Hahaha."
Max laughed to himself as he finally turned away from the door and walked toward the bathroom, turning on the hot water and letting the steam fill the small room.
***
Meanwhile, out in the hallway, Bellatrix did not walk back to her apartment. She ran.
Her sneakers slapped quietly against the carpet as she sprinted down the corridor. She reached her door, fumbled with her keys with trembling hands, shoved the key into the lock, and threw herself inside.
She closed the door behind her with a loud, echoing bang and immediately locked the deadbolt.
She stood in her entryway for a second, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The silence of her apartment pressed in on her. The reality of what she had just said to the handsome, muscular man next door played back in her mind like a horrible, embarrassing tape recording.
She let out a frustrated whine, dropping her keys on the counter. She marched into her bedroom, threw herself face-first onto her bed, and pulled her body forward until her head hit the soft pillows.
She wrapped her arms around the largest pillow, buried her face into the fabric, and began to violently punch the mattress beside her head.
"ARGGGHHH!!!" she screamed into the muffled cotton.
—PUNCH!
—PUNCH!
—PUNCH!
She beat the mattress relentlessly, taking out all of her nervous energy and profound embarrassment on the poor bedsprings.
After two solid minutes of thrashing, her arms grew tired. She stopped repeatedly punching the bed and let out a long, pathetic sigh. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom.
"Why! WHY DID I SAY IT!" she shouted to the empty room, her voice full of regret.
She kicked her legs in the air, groaning loudly.
"BELL, YOU FOOL!!!! ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!"
She grabbed the pillow she had been holding and smashed it over her own face, covering her eyes in deep shame. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
"I SWEAR, HE IS GONNA LOOK AT ME DIFFERENTLY THIS TIME…" she mumbled through the pillow. She had spent years cultivating a professional, serious reputation. And she had just thrown it away to offer a lingerie show to a guy she met yesterday.
She pulled the pillow off her face and sat up slightly.
"…ARRGGHH!! BELL, YOU SLUT!" she yelled at herself. She raised her hand and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to her own cheek to snap herself out of it.
She rubbed her red cheek, pouting. Her mind immediately tried to find a logical excuse for her behavior.
"IT—IT'S HIS FAULT!" she declared loudly, pointing a finger at the wall shared with Max's apartment.
"THAT'S RIGHT! IT'S HIS FAULT THAT HE DIDN'T REMOVE THOSE POSTERS!" Bellatrix said, desperately wanting to shift the blame away from her own hormones. If he hadn't had that picture up, she never would have gotten the idea.
She fell back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above her. Her anger quickly faded, replaced by the memory of standing in his living room.
"I—I mean, I really don't mind it that much," she whispered to herself in the quiet room. Her mind drifted back to the sight of him answering the door. "He is incredibly handsome. And when I saw how sweaty he was from his workout… and seeing those perfect, defined six-pack abs right in front of me…."
Her face flushed a deep crimson again as the mental image solidified in her brain.
"EEEIIIIKKKKKK!!!!"
She squealed loudly, covering her face with both hands because of the sudden rush of her dirty, unscientific thoughts.
She sighed heavily, dragging her hands down her face. She looked back up at the ceiling, trying to regain her composure.
After a long minute of silence, she slowly lowered her right hand. She touched her own stomach, her fingers hovering in the air as her analytical mind began to process the physical dimensions of the man she had just seen.
Her mind wandered further down his anatomy.
"Hmmm…." Bellatrix hummed quietly. "….How big do you think his sword is?"
She asked herself the question in the absolute privacy of her room, using the term "sword" as a nervous substitute to talk about his private part. As a woman of science, she was naturally curious about biology.
The moment the thought fully formed in her head, she gasped in horror at her own lack of restraint. She reached up with both hands and grabbed fistfuls of her blonde hair, pulling lightly in frustration.
"ARGGGHHH!!! STOP!!!!" she yelled at her own brain. "STOP THINKING THOSE INDECENT THOUGHTS!!!"
She rolled around on the bed, agonizing over her sudden lack of self-control.
"ARRRGGGHHH!!! IT'S HIS FAULT WHY I AM ACTING LIKE THIS!! IT'S NOT FAIR THAT I DIDN'T GET TO SEE HIS 'SWORD' TO CONFIRM THE HYPOTHESIS!" she complained loudly to the empty room.
She stopped rolling and lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.
"ARRRGGGHHH, WHAT AM I EVEN THINKING!!!"
She brought her hands up to cover her face again.
"ARRRGGGHHH, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE!!!!"
She reached out and hugged her pillow tightly to her chest for comfort. As she lay there, her right hand slowly, almost unconsciously, began to drift downward across her stomach, moving toward the waistband of her pants.
She realized what she was doing. She gasped, quickly retracting her hand and pulling it back up to her chest like she had touched a hot stove.
"Stop it! Bell, get a grip! You're a respected chemist and a serious scientist, not a goddamn slut!" she scolded herself harshly.
She bit her lower lip, a small, mischievous smile breaking through her embarrassment.
"Bu—but…" she whispered, her voice dropping to a sultry tone.
"…I really wouldn't mind experimenting on his 'sword' later. Hehehehe."
She let out a quiet, slightly unhinged giggle at her own joke.
She sat up quickly, throwing the pillow aside. She had too much nervous energy. She needed a release.
"ARRGGGHHH!!! Let's just go to the bathroom and masturbate to clear my head!" she announced to the empty apartment.
She reached over to her nightstand and picked up her smartphone. She unlocked the screen with a quick swipe. Her fingers flew across the digital keyboard, opening a private browser tab. She didn't hesitate as she began to type her specific query into the search bar.
She started searching for "Amber Haired Handsome Man with Six Packs Abs, Rule34".
She hit the search icon, watching the loading bar spin.
Then, she stopped. She stared at the bright screen of her phone, looking at the words she had just typed out. The reality of what she was doing hit her.
"Sigh…."
She locked the screen of the smartphone, the light fading to black. She gently put the phone back down onto the nightstand.
She let out another long, heavy sigh, resting her forehead in her hands.
"What am I even doing right now…" she mumbled into her palms.
She felt a wave of profound self-reflection wash over her. She thought about her real name, the formal identity she used back in her home country before she moved here to study and work.
"Sigh. How did you manage to fall so low like this, Lauren…." Bellatrix said quietly, using the name her family called her. She was a genius, a woman of intellect, currently having a meltdown over a sweaty neighbor with nice abs.
She sat there in silence for a few moments, letting the embarrassment settle.
Then, her resolve returned.
She picked up her smartphone from the nightstand once again, gripping it firmly in her hand. She stood up from the bed, her mind made up.
She walked purposefully across the bedroom, heading straight for the tiled floor of her attached bathroom. She stepped inside, the bright vanity lights flicking on.
She reached back and grabbed the edge of the heavy wooden door.
—SLAM!
The bathroom door shut firmly behind her, the lock clicking securely into place.