Villain's Path System-Chapter 33: Good Luck, Man

After a few moments, Myra lifted her head, chest still heaving, and looked straight at Lucian standing frozen in the doorway. A low, amused laugh rolled out of her — lazy, satisfied, and completely shameless.

"Alright boys," she purred, voice thick and husky. "Show’s over. Out."

Both guys scrambled off the bed like they’d been electrocuted, snatching clothes from the floor in a frantic mess of limbs and half-buttoned shirts.

One of them—tall, dark-haired, looked vaguely noble—winced as he passed Lucian and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck, man."

Then he was gone. Out the door.

Lucian just stood there, staring at where the man had been.

Good luck?

GOOD LUCK?!

What does that even MEAN?

The door closed behind them.

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

I’m going to die. This is how I die.

Myra remained on the bed, pale skin gleaming in the morning light. Red marks scattered across her shoulders. Her chest. Her—

Don’t look. Don’t look. Eyes UP.

Hair completely disheveled. Messy. Wild. Like she’d spent the entire night—

STOP THINKING.

And she was completely unbothered. Not embarrassed. Not apologetic. Just sitting there like this was normal, like students walked in on her all the time.

Maybe they do.

Oh god. What if they do?

She stood.

Still completely bare, making no attempt to cover herself. Just stood up and stretched—arms above her head, back arching—taking her time.

Deliberately taking her time.

Lucian’s eyes shot to the ceiling so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

Ceiling. Focus on ceiling. The ceiling is safe. The ceiling is pure. The ceiling has done nothing wrong.

She walked past him. He could hear her footsteps—soft, bare feet on wood—could hear the rustle of fabric.

"You can turn around now," Myra said from behind him.

Lucian didn’t move.

"I-I’m fine facing this direction. Heh."

"Lucian."

"The ceiling is very interesting."

Silence. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

He could feel her staring at him.

"Turn. Around."

It wasn’t a request anymore.

He turned slowly, as if approaching a predator.

She had at least put something on. A robe—thin, silk, the color of wine. It was tied loosely, very loosely, the knot barely holding. It covered some things.

Approximately forty percent of what it should cover.

The other sixty percent was clearly visible. This is not better. This is somehow WORSE.

She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other—casual, elegant, like she was receiving guests for tea. Then she reached for something on the nightstand.

A wine glass.

Half full.

She took a sip, slow and deliberate. The movement shifted the robe.

Lucian’s eyes went immediately back to the wall.

Myra speaks as usual, elegant and sultry.

"So, what brings my favorite student to my quarters at this ungodly hour?"

Favorite student?. You show your fuck show to your favorite student?

Lucian tried to speak.

"Well, I-I was—I need—my ribs—healing and—information about—"

Words were coming out, but they weren’t forming sentences. Just fragments. Broken pieces.

Oh god. Meditate. Heal mind. Release energy. Think about literally anything else—

Not working.

Nothing was working.

Myra uncrossed her legs. The robe shifted again. Then she recrossed them the other way. The fabric moved, fell open slightly.

And Lucian—despite every instinct screaming at him not to, despite every ounce of willpower—glanced down.

Just for a second.

One second.

That was all it took.

The position. The way she was sitting. The robe barely covering anything.

He could see everything.

Between her legs. The evidence of what she’d just been doing.

Still visible.

Still—

Oh god. Oh god. Cannot unsee. Brain bleach. Where’s the brain bleach—

His face went from red to purple, hot and burning.

Myra followed his gaze and looked down at herself, noticing what he was staring at. The essence is still dripping from between her legs.

She tilted her head.

"Oh."

She said it like she’d spilled water on the floor, like this was a minor inconvenience.

"Well, that’s inconvenient."

She stood up. The robe fell open completely.

Lucian’s eyes shot back to the ceiling.

CEILING. CEILING. CEILING.

He heard her cross the room, water running, cloth being wrung out. When she spoke, it was matter-of-fact, like talking about the weather.

"That bad boy, I told him to pull out. Men never listen."

Lucian made a sound—not quite human, somewhere between a whimper and a scream. His eyes were rolling, actually rolling in his head like his brain was trying to escape through the back of his skull.

He turned toward the door.

Fast.

"I—you—this is—I’ll just—I should—"

Words tumbling out, none of them making sense.

"I WILL COME BACK—"

Just as he reached for the doorknob Myra grinned and she called over her shoulder.

"You’re adorable when you’re flustered,"

Lucian stopped for a moment and that was the biggest mistake he made twice in a same day.

Myra’s arms wrapped around him from behind.

Warm. Soft.

Completely bare.

He could feel everything—her skin against his back, her chest pressed against him, her body molded to his.

Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

She pulled him back, away from the door, away from escape, into a hug. A full-body hug.