CHAPTER 3: CHAPTER 3:TOY?

[Possession: Akidna]

Aiden stared. The screen hovered in mid‑air before him, translucent and humming quietly, dust motes drifting lazily through its glow.

[Akidna Ron valor

Status: Temporary possession

Bloodline: Fairy bloodline (low tier)

Mana: average

Grade: B class

Personality: calm/fearful

Skills: Hyper mind (basic Tier)

Beauty: Gorgeous (high Tier)

Talent: ⭐⭐⭐]

"What is this?" Aiden muttered, voice echoing in the chilled silence. He reached out, fingertips brushing the image of a woman—Akidna—her face pale in the interface light. Her eyes white, closed, frozen in unconscious vulnerability.

"So this is my system, pretty neat. Am I OP now?" he voiced aloud, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was nowhere near the truth. Power didn’t lie in stats. It lay in the threshold between survival and annihilation.

He looked down at the woman still slumped on the floor, one arm draped awkwardly over the armrest. Akidna—breathing shallowly, chest rising and falling in the dim lamp glow. Now he knew who he was, where he was. And which cruel story held him in its grip.

His name? Aiden. The God, it seemed, liked irony. No last name, no legacy. Just a servant hiding demonic blood—until it hid him instead.

Faint memory flickered—a boy trembling in a cellar, his demon blood coiling like a serpent beneath soft flesh. A voice whispering: "You are nothing." A contradiction burned inside him now: the thirst to belong, the desire to be invisible.

The bloodline uncoiled. He had lost control—just like in the novels he’d read.

"Poor Aiden.....Then he becomes character development for the MC. Typical story progression," he voiced with quiet sarcasm, though the words cut hollow.

He gently lifted Akidna from the floor, carrying her in his arms with surprising tenderness. The room smelled of spilled water, damp linen, and lingering magic. Her pulse was light but steady. Midnight silence pressed against his back—thank God none of the guards were patrolling.

Placing her carefully on a nearby chair, he brushed stray hair from her forehead, water droplets glinting on pale skin.

"...born as an extra, fodder... what do I do with this life now?" he thought, staring at her robbed quiet, his thoughts looping in exhaustion and fascination.

He raked a hand across his forehead, flicking water droplets from ash-white hair. Akidna stirred, eyelids fluttering open. Her gaze came slowly into focus.

"Haaa..." she breathed. Dark eyes blinking. "...who, where,... what happened?"

"You... you kissed me?" she asked weakly, confusion mingling with accusation.

Aiden smiled and nodded, brushing damp strands from his face. "Yes, darling, what, you never got kissed before?"

His tone was nonchalant—detached—and yet something in her eyes flickered with conflicting emotion: fear, shame, wonder.

She touched her lips—as if uncertain she had lips at all—and the memory of that taste, that rough press of mouth, that pulsing energy in her veins spiraled through her memory.

"...You know I can call the guards and tell them you... you assaulted me." Her voice trembled, composed threat warring with a tremor in her chest.

He sighed, shoulders sagging. The whisper of power still thrummed around him—temporary possession meant boundaries had blurred. She was his in some way now. He felt both guilt and exhilaration.

"Forget that... how are you feeling? Maybe it was your first kiss or something, you just..." he trailed off.

Pat!

He slammed the table in frustration.

"....Fell down on the ground..." he spat, then bent and retrieved her glasses with a quizzical expression. "Here, are you even seeing me?"

"Thank..." she began, accepting the glasses with cautious fingers. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt no fear. Just a drumbeat in her chest every time she looked at him.

What is this? she thought, unwilling yet undeniable: I’m nervous to look at him...

She inhaled, straining for control.

"...I will forget that ever happened. Just... don’t do that again," she voiced, voice low and trembling. She pushed herself upright with trembling hands.

She strode toward the kitchen door, shoulders stiff. Panic sharpened her steps. Rumors could ruin reputations—especially for a viscount’s daughter. The rumor mill here was a blunt blade.

"Wait."

His voice soft but commanding.

Her foot paused mid-step. Heart thudding. She turned, eyes wide, logical mind screaming escape, but body stubbornly rooted in place.

Aiden rose and slowly approached. Each footstep was measured. Each breath sounded louder in the hush.

He reached the door. Brushed past her shoulder. Hand froze at the latch—then locked it.

Silence. The candle light flickered shadows across their faces—hers flushed, his golden eyes burning.

"...this... this is..." she voiced, audibly unsteady.

"...tonight it’s gonna be a long night for you, Mrs. Akidna," Aiden whispered, leaning in. Heat radiated from him—or from the power beneath as his thirst started creeping up. But unlike the foder before, he knew the story. He knew what was next.

So He slid his hand over hers, warm and clammy. He guided her until she stood still, breath caught.

Her voice trembled. "What are you... going to do to me?"

Aiden smiled—a half-lidded, charming grin. "...many things... many, many things." He flicked the candle out. Darkness swallowed them.

.

.

Morning came. No candlelight, only pale dawn creeping through cracks. Aiden woke slowly, body limp, mind hazy. Yesterday’s night had been spent—on her, on him, on the hungry union birthed from desperation.

He felt pangs of pride—and none—to realize just what this incubus bloodline could do. Possession, not just magic, but domination of soul? Respect turned into power. Consent? A corrupted memory. He knew the true meaning now.

He reached for the system interface:

[Akidna Ron valor

Status: Possession complete.

Bloodline: Fairy bloodline (low tier)

Mana: average

Grade: B class

Personality: calm/fearful

Skills: Hyper mind (basic Tier)

Beauty: Gorgeous (high Tier)

Talent: ⭐⭐⭐]

He exhaled, seeing "Possession complete." His chest tightened—understanding.

"No longer temporary," he thought. "She’s mine... in some way."

He rose from the bed, legs trembling. He dressed quickly in simple laundry garb. Each button felt heavier than the last—weight of fate pressing on fabric.

His mind reeled with what he learned from Akidna last night: rumors of political scheming, of Empress Liyana plotting, of secret alliances forged in whispers. Each intel thread increased his awareness of where he fit—or didn’t fit—in the story.

He didn’t like that he’d been treated like a toy before. But part of him craved the strength that knowledge brought. His shame bristled. Pride surged.

He grabbed a pile of clothes from his section and carried them toward the canal basin where laundry was done. But before he could step forward, a red‑armored guard clasped his shoulder with iron force.

"You... you’ve been called by Lady Liyana," the guard said, voice calm, eyes wide in shock. He still maintained decorum. He stepped back respectfully.

Aiden froze. The name stung—Lady Liyana was Akidna’s mistress. The daughter of the viscount. The patron Akidna served.

He swallowed. Moisture in his mouth. Was he brave? Or foolish?

"...okay." He said with a delicate smile, though his chest trembled.

Left alone, he passed through the servants’ courtyard, footsteps echoing hollow. Stone walls, rising crenellations; the castle’s cold grandeur felt oppressive now.

He though’ I will decide... who is master and who is toy...’ The bloodline inside him pulsed—a forging hammer behind the prison of flesh.