I let out a small, stupid laugh.

It slipped out before I could stop it, light and almost giddy, completely out of place with everything that had happened. I covered my mouth with my hand, but it didn’t help much. The sound was already there, hanging in the air between us.

She had basically called me a pervert.

And for some reason… I didn’t hate it.

If anything, it felt strange… good.

Pathetic.

I leaned back slightly, resting my weight on my arms, staring out at the lake while the warmth of the sun slowly dried my skin. The surface shimmered calmly, as if the world had never been anything but peaceful.

In my previous life, I never allowed myself this.

Not the embarrassment. Not the curiosity. Not even the awkwardness.

I always held back.

There was always a reason. I was too young. I had time. I should focus on something more important. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I didn’t want to look stupid. I didn’t want to be judged.

So I restrained myself.

Over and over again.

Until time ran out.

I died at twenty, and there were entire parts of being human that I had never even touched. Not because I couldn’t… but because I wouldn’t.

Because I thought I had more time.

I let out a quiet breath.

And now?

Now I couldn’t even look a girl in the eyes without getting flustered, and somehow, I had ended up being called a pervert within minutes of meeting her.

I shook my head slightly, a faint smile lingering despite everything.

“…I think I like this world more,” I muttered under my breath.

Not because it was kinder.

It wasn’t.

If anything, it was harsher. Brutal, even.

But it was… honest.

Raw.

Here, if you wanted something, you had to face it. There was no guarantee you’d get another chance. No illusion that things would just wait for you until you felt ready.

A believer might say I shouldn’t want things like this. That desire leads to greed, to mistakes, to corruption.

Maybe they were right.

I stared out at the lake, watching the light ripple across its surface, and a thought settled in, quieter than the others, but heavier.

If desire is a sin… then why give it to us at all?

Why create something that wants… and then condemn it for wanting?

I frowned slightly, my fingers digging into the dirt beside me.

Lust. Greed. Hunger. Ambition. Curiosity. They all came from the same place, didn’t they? That pull inside your chest that said more. More life. More experience. More feeling.

More everything.

If a god existed, if something designed humans, then that meant these things weren’t accidents. They were built into us. Intentionally. Carefully.

So why?

To test us?

To watch us fail?

Or… to see what we would do with them?

I let out a slow breath.

Because if the answer was simply “don’t feel them,” then that made no sense. You don’t give something fire and then blame it for burning. You don’t create hunger and then call eating a flaw.

That would be cruel.

Or maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t about rejecting those feelings.

Maybe it was about what you do with them.

Lust could turn into obsession… or into love.

Greed could become corruption… or ambition.

The same instinct, just… different directions.

I glanced down at my hands.

Then the real question wasn’t “should I feel this?”

It was…

“…what kind of person do I become because of it?”

The thought lingered, uncomfortable, unfinished.

Because that answer wasn’t something I could reason my way into.

It was something I’d have to prove.

But I didn’t want to live like that again.

I didn’t want to die again with a list of things I almost did.

I don’t want to lose because I hesitated.

I glanced briefly at her, then quickly looked away again, my ears heating up slightly.

“…I’m not saying I want to do anything stupid,” I added, half to myself. “I just… don’t want to pretend those feelings don’t exist.”

My hands tightened slightly against the ground.

“I don’t want to die again without ever actually living.”

The words came out quieter this time.

More honest.

Because that was the truth.

I had no idea how long I’d live in this world. No idea what kind of end was waiting for me. Maybe I’d make it far. Maybe I wouldn’t even reach adulthood again.

There were no guarantees.

Not with the kind of enemies already moving in the shadows.

Not with people like that witch out there.

If my time was limited…

Then I didn’t want to waste it pretending to be something I wasn’t.

I exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip just a little.

“…So yeah,” I said, glancing at the lake again. “I’ll take being called a pervert over being dead with regrets.”

I paused.

“…Still embarrassing though.”

I muttered that last part under my breath, mostly to myself, as the quiet of the lake settled around us once again.

***

She leaned back slightly, one hand pressing into the ground behind her for support, her gaze still fixed on me. 

The underside of her torso revealed soft and pale skin. Like cream I could devour.

She was truly pretty. Her breasts was just large enough to give her some volume over her fit silhouette.

Her face was more on the small side. Perfectly symmetrical and oval shaped. The way I liked it.

Her lips were tender, though smaller than Reesay's. A kiss would swallow them whole I guess.

She was still wet, drying from her bath in the lake. 

She's a Dragonite or whatever, but it didn't matter.

My heart raced as I watched her.

All it took is one move.

Make her drop with the towel on the sand.

And steal a kiss from her.

She wouldn't harm a kid just for a kiss would she?

Dammit! I'm going too far into this.

It's all that witch's fault. Why couldn't she have just made me an adult instead of kid?

Why is she torturing me like this?

“What are you mumbling about?” she asked.

I clenched my teeth.

I looked at her properly this time. No looking away, no hesitation. Enough of that. My heart was still beating a little too fast, but I held her gaze anyway.

I want her.

The thought came clean and simple. No excuses. No hiding behind embarrassment. Just the truth. Not just her either. Reesay too. Feelings I didn’t fully understand yet, but I wasn’t going to run from them like I used to.

“I was just thinking,” I said, letting out a small breath. “I have a dream. I want to experience everything a human can experience. I want to feel happiness to its fullest extent. I want to live through everything this world has to offer.”

I smiled faintly, though it felt a little fragile.

She didn’t smile back. She just watched me in silence, as if weighing every word.

“Then become a tyrant,” she said.

I blinked. “What?”

“Desire requires power,” she continued, completely serious. “If you want something, take it. Become strong enough that no one can deny you. That is the simplest path.”

I let out a short breath, half amused, half exasperated. “Including you?”

She didn’t react. Not even a flicker.

Right. Of course.

“Okay, okay,” I said, raising both hands slightly in surrender. “I get it. Power solves everything. But that’s not what I want.”

My expression shifted, the humor fading.

“I’ve seen that kind of world before,” I continued more quietly. “People with power do whatever they want, and the rest just… deal with it. You can try to resist, but it doesn’t change anything. The strong decide, the weak endure.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to force people to obey me. I want them to choose it. I want them to acknowledge me… and I want to acknowledge them too. Their desires, their lives.”

I hesitated for just a second, then said it anyway.

“I want to build something like that. As a king.”

She finally reacted, though only slightly. A faint shift in her posture, a subtle narrowing of her eyes.

“A king,” she repeated. “That is an ambitious fantasy for a child.”

I met her gaze without flinching.

“You can stop seeing me as a child,” I said. “You should have stopped a while ago.”

Silence settled for a moment. The wind brushed across the lake, sending small ripples across the surface.

She studied me again, more carefully this time.

Then she spoke.

“You misunderstand something fundamental,” she said.

I frowned slightly. “What?”

“People will not all acknowledge you,” she continued. “No matter what you build. No matter how fair you are. No matter how much you give.”

Her voice remained calm, but there was weight behind it.

“Some will envy you. Some will hate you. Some will fear you. Others will want what you have and try to take it.”

I didn’t answer.

“You think understanding will solve that,” she went on. “That if you speak well enough, if you listen enough, conflict will disappear.”

She shook her head slightly.

“It won’t.”

My jaw tightened. “It has to.”

“It doesn’t.”

The certainty in her voice was suffocating.

“Desire is not something that aligns neatly between people,” she said. “It collides. When it does, someone yields… or someone is forced to.”

I looked away, staring at the water.

“…So your answer is just power,” I muttered. “Be stronger than everyone else and call it peace.”

“No,” she said.

That made me pause.

I glanced back at her.

“Power is not peace,” she clarified. “Power is what allows peace to exist.”

I frowned deeper.

“That sounds like the same thing.”

“It isn’t,” she replied. “Peace without power is fragile. It exists only as long as no one chooses to break it.”

Her red eyes locked onto mine again.

“And someone always will.”

The words sank in, heavier than I wanted them to be.

“You experienced that already,” she added quietly.

Reesay.

Blood.

The butcher.

I clenched my fists.

“…I just made a mistake,” I said.

“You made a choice,” she corrected.

I stayed silent.

“If you had the power to stop him instantly,” she continued, “would you have still tried to reason with him?”

I opened my mouth… then stopped.

The answer sat there, obvious.

“…No,” I admitted.

“Then your belief is already changing.”

I hated how easily she said that.

“I don’t want it to change,” I said. “I don’t want to become someone who just forces their will onto others.”

“You will,” she said.

I looked up sharply. “What?”

“In some form,” she said calmly. “If you truly want to protect something. If you truly want to build anything lasting.”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“The question is not whether you will use power.”

A brief pause.

“It is whether you accept the responsibility of it… or pretend you can avoid it.”