The residential palace sat high within the dungeon tower, bathed in that purple-pink glow that never quite faded.

In one of the chambers—ornate but simple, with walls that pulsed faintly like a living heartbeat—Helena sat alone.

Naked.

Her eyes were closed, legs crossed beneath her thick thighs, hands resting palms-up on her knees. Her massive breasts hung heavy, dark brown nipples pointing downward, still tender from Viktor's mouth hours ago.

Her skin—pale, soft, glowing with that unnatural radiance—was covered in marks.

Love bites. Bruises. Red fingerprints on her hips where he'd gripped her too hard. Bite marks on her inner thighs. A particularly dark hickey on her left breast, right above the nipple, shaped like his mouth.

She looked... used. Claimed. Marked as his.

Sweat beaded on her brow.

Her face contorted—eyebrows drawing together, lips pressing into a thin line. Her breathing quickened, chest rising and falling faster. The purple-pink light in the room seemed to respond, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

More sweat. It trickled down her temple, dripped off her jaw, ran between her breasts in thin rivers.

Her body trembled. Not from cold—the air was warm, almost humid. But from something else. Something building inside her.

Her brown eyes snapped open.

Helena gasped—a sharp inhale that made her whole body jolt. Her hand flew to her chest, pressing against her racing heart. She blinked rapidly, pupils dilating and contracting as if adjusting to light that wasn't there.

Slowly, she turned her head.

A mirror stood against the far wall—full-length, framed in dark wood that seemed to grow from the floor itself. Helena stared at her reflection.

And froze.

'That's... me?'

The woman in the mirror looked... usual her. Not drastically different—she wasn't a teenager again.

But Helena felt foreign in her own body.

Even her body looked different.

But she is slowly adapting to her memories of this life, merging with the one she just received.

Her breasts—still massive—sat higher on her chest. Less sagging. Her stomach, which had always been soft and maternal, looked tighter. Not flat, but... healthier as if filled with milk. Like she'd lost ten pounds of exhaustion and gained it back in vitality.

Helena stood slowly, her thick thighs unfolding, feet finding the cold floor. She walked to the mirror, each step deliberate, watching her reflection move with her.

'I look different than before... though the same as I recall.'

It was strange, but she seems to be talking about some other life rather than the present one.

Was her consciousness overwritten?

No, it was more as if a portion just unlocked for her, making her remember halfway what exactly she was.

Her eyes dropped lower. To her breasts. To her stomach. To the space between her legs where Viktor had been buried so many times she'd lost count.

Her pussy looked... normal. Healthy. The swelling from this morning—when he'd stretched her so wide she thought she'd tear—had gone down completely.

Her lips sat neat and closed, the pink flesh smooth and unblemished despite how brutally he'd fucked her.

'Did he use claps to create abilties for us?'

Helena's hand drifted down, fingers brushing against her mound. She remembered the taste of him. Thick. Salty. Overwhelming. She'd swallowed so much of it—down her throat, coating her face, dripping from her chin.

And every time, she felt stronger. Younger. Better.

A soft smile curved her lips.

All of it was as she was promised to have: promised to live when he would return exhausted from his life—a promise of a being who chose to go around the world, abandoning her with the hope that when he grew bored of everyone else, he would try to settle down with her.

Now finally to return to her like this, meeting her with a new body, a new world, and a new life like hers.

Forming new memories.

"You fulfilled your promise..." Helena murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her brown eyes glistened—not with tears, but something warmer. Satisfaction. Contentment. "Finally, Viktor."

It wasn't the smile of a servant addressing her young master. It was the smile of a woman who'd been given something precious. Something she'd been waiting for. For years.

Helena clenched her fist as she recalled why she chose to reincarnate in this life.

The smile faded, replaced by something sharper. More determined.

She turned away from the mirror, walking back to the center of the room. Her gaze shifted toward the window—or what passed for a window in this place.

A big empty space, a promise to live with his wives and children in a faraway land peacefully.

'It must be the Abain's Tower if I recall correctly.' Helena blinked as she recalled the name of her new house, her eyes glancing at the nearby pot whose flower seemed to grow instantly under her gaze, petals forming as if welcoming the faint energy of its origin, Nature.

But it was faint and not enough to be expressed in this mortal human body, or else breaking the laws might simply burn the body away, making her realize how she needed to upgrade herself according to the system of this world if she wanted to keep her peace with him secure.

And through the telepathic link—that invisible thread connecting her to Viktor and the other wives—she felt it.

'Mira.'

Helena's eyes narrowed slightly.

She could sense Mira's location. Feel her emotions bleeding through the shared network. And right now, Mira was...

'Getting pounded.'

Helena's lips twitched. Not in jealousy. In... understanding. She'd just had her turn. Of course Viktor would move on to the next wife. The man was insatiable.

But something else flickered through her mind. Something more urgent.

'I need to get my Proxy powers and Race awakening before childbirth,' Helena thought, her hand moving unconsciously to her stomach.

The child growing inside her, Viktor's child, was already there as the promised family promise of his. The subtle shifts in her center of gravity.

A small smile recalled everything that happened until now with his quirky, perverted nature and habits, from possessively dirty words to this morning's brutal marathon with her—things were just too peaceful compared to the world she lost.

Though she didn't trust Viktor now.

As she exactly knew how she needed to keep her house safe and she will.

'Or you'll just run away again like last time... Husband.'

The word felt strange on her tongue. Even in her thoughts. Husband. Not Young Master. Not Lord Viktor. Just... husband.

A faint smile returned.

Helena closed her eyes. Focused. And activated the ability Viktor had given her—one of the custom powers she recognised well now.

Instant Recall.

The world dissolved.

SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-PAH! PAH! PAH!

The sound hit Helena first.

Wet. Rhythmic. Obscene. The unmistakable noise of flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by high-pitched moans that echoed through the chamber.

Helena opened her eyes.

She stood in the center of the dungeon's first floor—the massive circular space with obsidian floors and wooden knights standing at attention along the walls.

A throne were the wooden knight boss sat near the back—carved from dark wood, ornate and imposing, like something a demon king would sit on.

And in the center of the room, on the floor—

"AHHN—AHHN—YES—RIGHT THERE—!"

Mira.

'She is at it again...'

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