Helena stopped just a few inches from him, her body's warmth contrasting with the coldness of the wall Lucas was still leaning against. Her perfume—that unmistakable scent of mystery and provocation—invaded his senses like a slow, inevitable spell.
"You seem nervous, sweetheart..." she whispered, with a feline gaze and a smile that said I know exactly what you were doing.
Lucas laughed, nervously.
"Me? Nervous? Of course not. I am the picture of serenity. A Tibetan monk. A calm lake at dawn."
"A lake that was about to overflow, if you know what I mean," Helena replied, her gaze briefly dropping to his pants before returning to his eyes with rehearsed slowness.
Lucas pushed himself off the wall, trying to regain control of his expression and dignity. He failed miserably at both.
"You're cruel, you know that? What you do with your voice... with that look... it's psychological abuse."
Helena tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence.
"Me? Cruel? I'm just worried about my dear Lucas... wandering around the house at night, cold sweat, muttering his sister's name while breathing like a teenager who discovered porn yesterday. Very concerned."
Lucas let out a muffled laugh, covering his face with one hand.
"That was... a very specific description."
Helena stepped even closer. Now their bodies were almost touching. The heat was palpable.
"Do you need help, Lucas?"
The question came in a whisper, dripping with double meanings. Or triple. Or tenth.
He blinked.
"Like... professional help? Or the kind where you… put your hands on me?"
Helena lightly bit her lower lip. An innocent gesture, if not for that look.
"Maybe both? Who knows, maybe a little affection will fix it... or make everything worse, right?"
Lucas turned abruptly, backing away until his back hit the opposite wall.
"Okay, I'm definitely going crazy. First I almost get seduced by my tsundere sister who wants to kill me. Now my hot goth aunt is offering family therapy in the hallway."
Helena crossed her arms, her bust lifting in such a natural way it hurt.
"And you're resisting. Impressive. Want a medal or would you prefer a tight hug?"
Lucas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pointed at her with a trembling finger.
"You're the devil. In high heels."
She laughed—a light, musical laugh, but with a dark undertone.
"Oh, darling... if I were the devil, you'd have surrendered long ago."
Lucas turned to keep walking, desperate for distance.
"I'm... I'm going to take a cold shower. Or jump out the window. Something healthy."
Helena watched him walk away with a satisfied smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief and something more... something dangerous.
And as he disappeared down the hallway, she murmured to herself, her voice sweet like poison:
"This house is going to drive you insane, Lucas... and I'll be here to enjoy every second."
And then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and walked slowly back to her room.
But deep down... her heart was racing too. Because despite all the teasing, the game, the mask...
She liked him too.
And that, for her... was the problem.
---
Lucas walks slowly toward the bathroom, his intention to take a cold shower to wash away all these strange thoughts.
"Seriously? In my memories… They weren't like this... And why is it so hard to control?"
Lucas said, frustrated but truly confused. In his memories, the two women weren't like this—Lisa was his little sister, Helena was almost a mother... it was all... innocent.
So why? Why was this happening to him? Why had they suddenly turned into seductive succubi in their own styles?
Reaching the bathroom, Lucas slowly removes his clothes, letting them fall carelessly onto the white marble floor.
Lucas turns his gaze to the side and observes his own reflection in the full-length mirror in the bathroom as he says, "Seriously? Who has a mirror this big in the bathroom? It takes up practically the whole room."
Lucas gives a crooked smile.
"Helena, obviously. She probably uses it to check if her cleavage is lethal enough to traumatize Lisa before leaving the house."
The smile fades, and Lucas stares at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. He looks away for a moment, but something pulls him back. His eyes trace up from the defined abs to the broad shoulders, then slowly down the muscular contours—every line of his body carved like it was sculpted by some perverted ancient Greek sculptor.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He runs a hand through his red hair, still damp with sweat, and sighs.
"This isn't the body of a teenager. This is the body of a prime-time soap opera lead who seduces even the mother-in-law."
His eyes narrow, and he begins to analyze every detail with more attention than anyone should ever give to themselves. Firm chest, chiseled abs, slim waist, strong thighs. Almost flawless skin. Even the bulge between his legs looked like it had been generously drawn by an author with a fetish.
"…Yeah, the problem isn't Lisa."
He raises an eyebrow.
"Or Helena. They're victims. Innocent, trapped in a game they never asked to play."
His tone turns dramatic, almost theatrical. He opens his arms like a narcissistic martyr before his own perfection.
"The true enemy… is me. I'm just... too damn hot."
He chuckles mockingly.
"How can anyone resist this? I can't even resist myself. I came here for a cold shower and ended up seduced by my own reflection."
Lucas turns to the side, striking a pose like he's in a photo shoot.
"This is a curse. A blessing and a punishment. A body that defies morality, breaks homes, and shatters family bonds."
He grabs the towel, glances at the mirror once more, and finishes with a feigned sigh of regret:
"Sorry, Lisa. Sorry, Helena. The problem... is that your brother... and nephew… is simply a reincarnated Greek god."
And then he finally steps into the shower, hoping the cold water will freeze not just the impure thoughts but also the ego that, day by day, grew more convinced the world was unfair… for putting him in it.
The cold water crashes down like needles on his hot skin, creating a violent, almost painful contrast. Lucas closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, the sound of the shower drowning out the world around him.
The mask falls.
That smug smile, the narcissistic thoughts… all melt away with the water. The gaze that opens again no longer shines. It's cold. Calculated. Distant.
"Three and a half months."
The countdown is engraved in his mind. The Aptitude Assessment—the event that would define the fate of thousands of gifted youths and, for him, should mean nothing.
"I just need to be mediocre."
He scrubs his chest with the soap as if cleaning something beyond dirt, as if trying to erase something pulsing inside him, something threatening to awaken.
"Don't draw attention. Don't spark interest. Don't rise too high or fall too low. A comfortable middle ground. Grey. Invisible."
His body, so obviously perfect, was a curse to this plan. And his talent… that was even worse. Because Lucas knew what he was capable of. Even if he pretended otherwise. Even if he smiled and played the fool.
"It's not power that scares me. It's what comes with it."
The scrutiny. The gazes. The risk of someone seeing through the mask. Of someone trying to remember him.
He scrubs his arms harder than necessary. Red skin. Tense muscle.
"The quieter I am, the more time I buy."
Because he needed time. To understand. To adapt. To decipher the whispers buried in his mind—the fragments of what once was.
Lucas rests his hands on the shower wall, water running down his face like tears that didn't exist.
"Just one more normal life."
Just one more chance to live in silence, even if just for a while. He didn't want to be a hero. Didn't want to be a villain.
He just wanted… to observe.
Study the game before playing.
And, if possible, never play at all.
"If everything goes right..."
Lucas turns off the shower. The silence that follows is absolute. Almost sepulchral.
"...no one will even remember I was there."
And that was the plan.
A perfect plan.
Invisible.
Until the day he inevitably failed.
That's why he needed power. So that when he failed… He would fail at some point—Lucas was sure of it—after all, every plan had variables. Power was necessary to crush any variable, delaying his failure as long as possible.
Failure was inevitable. It always was. No matter how much he planned, how much he smiled or pretended... The world wasn't static. People were unpredictable. And Lucas, more than anyone, knew he wasn't alone on this board.
"The more I avoid the game, the more it tries to force me to play."
He wraps the towel around his waist and looks at the mirror again, now fogged by steam. Only his silhouette is visible—a distorted figure, as if even the reflection hesitated to face him back.
"And when the game begins, I want to have the right pieces."
Power. Not the kind others imagined—no explosions, brute strength, or colorful lights. He wanted the kind of power that wasn't seen. The kind that hid in subtext, in subtle gestures, in words that didn't need to be said.
But if strength were needed, he'd have that too.
Because in the end… if the game came to him, Lucas would crush the board.
"Power to disappear… and power to destroy."
He runs a hand across the mirror, clearing part of the glass. His blue eyes stare at the reflection with an intensity that seems… otherworldly.
"Then let the masks come, the lies, the theater…"
His voice was low, almost a whisper.
"…because when the inevitable comes, I want the world to think I was defeated."
A pause. A faint, subtle smile.
"Just so they can realize later… I was the final variable."
He walks out of the bathroom without looking back, leaving behind the steam, the vanity, and a piece of his sanity. Outside, the world spun as if it were normal. As if it were safe.
But Lucas knew.
Everything was only asleep.
For now.
---
Lucas's life continued peacefully; the only change was the addition of the Stellar Body technique practice, where Lucas would climb onto his rooftop, simply absorbing the energy emanating from the sun.
Lucas could feel his strength increasing more and more, that wonderful sensation of getting stronger. Lucas wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.
His relationship with Lisa didn't change much—an inappropriate glance here, an improper touch there. In truth, Lisa would have already offered her body to Lucas if he asked. Lisa loves Lucas deeply, to a point that couldn't be considered natural—almost obsessive.
But Lucas was too busy practicing his technique, spending the whole day vegetating on the balcony. At night, he would sleep to assimilate the absorbed energy, living in this cycle as if he were a plant.
Logically, Lucas also didn't make any progress in his relationship with Helena. After all, although people on the internet know her as 'goth mommy' due to her sadistic and seductive demeanor, they completely ignore her hero name.
The reality is that Helena is actually quite shy, acting seductively, but when it comes down to it, she backs off like a coward. Of course, even if that didn't happen, Lucas wouldn't have the time to deal with her—getting stronger was more important, everything else came second.
As for going to school... If Lucas was so busy that he couldn't even interact with the women in the house, how would he have time to go to such a useless place like school?
School is useless to Lucas. He has big ambitions—the Hero Academy would be the first step for Lucas into a new world.
Lucas wanted to go to the Hero Academy to measure the distance between him and the other heroes. Training? Definitely not. Lucas didn't think that kind of thing was necessary.
Things like that could be crushed if he had enough power. Creating that kind of situation: you have martial arts, I have a weapon—who do you think wins?
Although Lisa complains about him skipping class, Lucas ignores those remarks. Did Lisa really think he hadn't seen through her little schemes?
Lisa wanted Lucas to go to school so the two of them could spend some time together. After all, he was just vegetating on the balcony, and Lisa was starting to feel left out.
---
The days passed in the blink of an eye. Soon, three whole months had gone by. The day of awakening—the day to enter the Hero Academy—had arrived.
---
End of chapter.