The night was deep.
My room was dead silent, save for the occasional sweep of car headlights from outside the window. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, my mind replaying the look on Ben's face from a few hours ago like an old film projector.
The change in his eyes, from initial fear and confusion, to later bewilderment, and finally, to a kind of... a kind of unreserved obsession and adoration I had never seen in anyone's eyes before. The change in his posture, from a relaxed lean to a slightly forward, submissive stoop.
Just as I was immersed in this mixture of excitement and unease, a crisp sound rang out in my mind without warning.
Ding!
A translucent, ghostly blue screen unfolded out of thin air before my eyes. The familiar, minimalist font with its technological feel appeared on the screen, emitting a faint glow that cast an eerie blue light on my pale face.
[Congratulations, host, on taking the first step to becoming a succubus.]
Below, a more detailed data report appeared.
[Target: Ben Carter.] [Charm Level: Complete Domination.] [Infatuation Level: 100%.]
I stared intently at those words—"Complete Domination," "100%." A cold chill shot up from the base of my spine to the back of my neck. It had worked.
[As a special reward for the host's first completion of a side mission, an SSS-grade item is being awarded.] [Mission reward is being distributed...] [Congratulations, host, you have obtained: 'Forbidden Love' Potion x1.]
Along with the notification, a soft ball of light gathered in front of the screen. When the light dissipated, an exquisite small glass bottle appeared out of thin air, slowly falling into my palm.
The bottle was cool to the touch, as if it were not glass, but some unknown crystal. Inside, it held a strange liquid that, in the dim light of the room, showed a flowing, pearlescent iridescence, beautiful enough to make one's heart palpitate. At the bottom of the bottle, a line of small text appeared like a brand.
[Effect: One drop is enough to make the target completely submit to you.]
I held the small bottle. The very existence of this thing was a terrible temptation. It represented a shortcut, a shortcut to absolute control. But it could also let me complete the mission immediately.
I shivered and quickly stuffed the potion into the deepest part of my bedside drawer, mixing it in with some old odds and ends. It was as if by not seeing it, the degenerate possibility it represented would cease to exist.
But I knew in my heart, once Pandora's box is opened, it can never be closed again.
The next day, when I stepped into the school, the whole world felt a little different. The sun was still bright, the hallways still bustling with voices, but my senses had become unusually sharp. Every gaze that fell on me, whether intentional or not, felt like I was being scrutinized.
"Class, before we begin, I have an announcement to make." His expression was plain, his tone even more business-like, betraying no emotion. "This morning, we received a notice from Ben Carter's family. He has completed the withdrawal procedures and will be transferring to another school. Let us all wish him the best in his future endeavors."
After speaking, he opened his textbook as if he had just announced a trivial matter. "Alright, let's now turn to page 78 of the textbook..."
My blood ran cold in an instant. A huge, viscous wave of guilt engulfed me. It was me. This was all because of me. It was my out-of-control power that had caused a living person to be forcibly erased from our lives.
What on earth... had I done to Ben?
The shock of Ben's transfer continued to ferment at school for two days. But soon, a new, more pressing topic replaced the discussions about Ben—the football game next weekend against our nemesis, the "Crimson Flames."
Ben was a member of the football team. His sudden departure was undoubtedly a devastating blow to the team.
In the hallways, in the cafeteria, pessimistic opinions could be heard everywhere.
"We're screwed. Without Ben, how are we supposed to take on the Crimson Flames?"
"There goes the championship for this year..."
Listening to these words, I had mixed feelings. Every voice worried about the game was like a reminder that the chain reaction caused by Ben's disappearance had already begun to spread. I had indirectly become the culprit who had ruined our school's honor.
Just as I was trying to get away from these topics, a burly figure blocked my path. It was the team's Coach Harris. His weathered face wore a look of unquestionable seriousness.
"Kid, come with me for a second," he said concisely.
My heart skipped a beat. I had a bad feeling. He took me to an empty corner of the gym and got straight to the point. "I looked up your admission file. Before you transferred to our school, you were a star player in the state. Then... well, then you stopped playing."
"You know the situation we're in now. Ben's gone, the team is short on players, and we're in a desperate spot. I'm not asking you, kid, I'm telling you. For the honor of the school, rejoin the team."
My first reaction was a heartfelt refusal.
"No," I blurted out. "Coach, I haven't touched a ball in a long time, I..."
I tried to find excuses, saying my physical condition wasn't good, that my academic workload was heavy. But Coach Harris just stared at me, the disappointment in his eyes growing stronger.
Just as I was racking my brain, preparing to refuse him with a more decisive reason, that cold, inhuman voice once again sounded in my mind.
Ding!
Before my eyes, the ghostly blue screen unfolded again, cutting off all my words.
+-------------------------------------------+
| System Notification |
| New Main Mission Triggered! |
| Mission: Infiltrate the Lion's Den |
| Description: Rejoin the Northwood High Lions NFL team. |
| Re-establish contact with the main target, Eric Thorne.|
| Failure Penalty: Loss of Control over Power |
+-------------------------------------------+
I looked at the mission description, a chill rising from the bottom of my heart. So that's how it was. This was all a well-designed trap. Ben's disappearance, the team's predicament, the coach's recruitment... all the events were interlinked, and the ultimate goal was to push me back onto this path, to push me back in front of Eric.
I felt like a marionette, being played with by an unseen hand. My right to choose had never existed from the very beginning.
"...Alright." I heard my own voice, dry and as if coming from a great distance. I looked up at Coach Harris and forced a smile that was uglier than a cry. "I'll join."
The tense lines on the coach's face finally relaxed. He clapped my shoulder hard, his voice full of relief. "Good kid! I knew you wouldn't let us down!"
After school, I walked into that place that was both familiar and strange—the Lions' locker room.
The air was thick with the mixed smell of sweat, ointment, and old leather. This smell had once been a part of my life, but now, it only made me feel a sense of alienation and discomfort. I felt like an intruder, an imposter in a shell.
The coach gave me a set of temporary gear. The surrounding players cast all sorts of looks at me—curiosity, scrutiny, expectation, and also a hint of imperceptible wariness. After all, I was here to take the place of their missing friend. I could feel their silent judgment, which made me even more uneasy.
I changed my clothes in silence, every movement fluid due to muscle memory, but my heart was filled with resistance. I put on the protective gear piece by piece, feeling as if I were putting on a set of shackles.
Just then, the locker room door was pushed open.
A tall figure walked in. In that instant, the noise in the entire locker room seemed to drop by several decibels.
It was Eric.
Time seemed to slow down. I watched him. He was wearing a simple practice T-shirt and shorts, his muscle lines smooth and powerful. Sweat soaked the black hair on his forehead, a few strands clinging to his brow. His gaze was focused and sharp, like a predator that had locked onto its prey, carrying a natural, unquestionable leadership.
The moment he entered, he became the absolute center of this space.
My heart sank violently.
It seemed fate really was unwilling to let me go. It always found a way to push me back in front of this man, Eric.
Coach Harris walked over, affectionately clapping Eric on the shoulder, and pulled him in front of me.
"Eric," the coach's voice was loud, "this is our new guy. Good foundation, just a little rusty. You're the captain, show him the ropes, get him up to speed. I hope you two can work well together."
Eric's gaze fell on me, calm and unwavering, like a deep, bottomless, cold pool. I couldn't tell if he was surprised, welcoming, or disgusted.
"Tactical training is at six in the morning. Don't be late," he said, then turned and walked toward his own locker without giving me a second glance.
The entire exchange was brief, cold, and filled with a business-like distance.
However, beneath this cold surface, I could clearly feel the line that had once connected us, a line I had unilaterally severed long ago, now being twisted back together and pulled tight by an irresistible force.
This thing they call fate, it seemed, had just reconnected, in the way I was most unwilling to accept.