Dream

In Damian's dream, he was transported back to a dark room, more than seven years ago, where a twelve-year-old boy cowered in fear, huddled in a corner. His frail body, malnourished and fragile, bore the scars of past beatings. His vacant eyes held a detached gaze, observing the chaos outside.

His birth mother, dressed in revealing clothes, struggled against the grip of a police officer, her voice filled with defiance. "I haven't done anything wrong! This is an honest and legal business in this state!"

The stern voice of the police chief cut through the room. "Prostitution may be legal, but child **** is not."

"Bullshit!" roared a bearded man, causing Damian to tremble involuntarily. He was Damian's 'father,' or rather, the owner of the prostitution ring. He was now handcuffed, his glare fixed on the police officer.

"This kid was a beggar we found on the roadside. We took him in to help him! We provided him with food! And you accuse us of child ****? What nonsense!"

The police officer sneered, unyielding. "We have concrete evidence against both of you, so save your breath."

With that, both adults were led away by the authorities. The police officer turned his attention to the room where Damian silently observed. Sighing, he pondered, "How do we get him out of this place? He's terrified of us."

"Let me try," a soft female voice interjected. Damian couldn't see her face from his position, but the police officer nodded in agreement.

As Damian saw someone enter the room, he instinctively closed his eyes tightly, lowering his head to his knees, seeking refuge from the unfamiliar figures.

Then, he felt a gentle hand caressing his hair, accompanied by a soothing voice that reached his ears. "Son, you're safe now. There's no need to be afraid. Everything will be fine from now on."

Damian was taken aback. He couldn't explain it, but that voice somehow calmed his racing heart. Timidly, he opened his eyes and glanced at the person kneeling before him.

She was an elderly woman in her fifties, her eyes filled with warmth, and her smile exuded kindness.

"Well, if you're scared to go outside, let's stay here for a while. Can I sit here with you?" she asked gently.

Who was this lady? Despite his confusion, Damian found a sense of security in her presence. After a moment of hesitation, the young boy nodded slowly. "Mmh."

Suddenly, the woman's expression changed, her eyes widening in shock and horror as blood spewed from her mouth. She fell, a gaping wound appearing in her abdomen.

"AHHH!" Damian cried out in terror, jolting awake. Gasping for breath, he frantically surveyed his surroundings. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his mind. Where was he?

Ah, yes... he had been transmigrated into this twisted world. Damian took a deep breath, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow. This was not the familiar room he knew; it was a bigger, more well furnished one.

He saw a mirror in the room so he got up and went to it. He had a sudden urge to look at his new face again.

In the mirror, he saw bright orange eyes staring back at him. The person in the mirror had sharp and good-looking features. His hair was black with touches of red, tied in a neat ponytail. Overall, he gave off a strong and impressive vibe.

The body was strong actually. Stronger than a mortal. Blake had told him that he had good potential to become a mage.

Without magic, a strong body didn't mean jackshit though. A lanky bastard like Tim with his magic tricks was able to immobilize him.

Thinking about that son of a bitch, Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously. How should he take **** now?

It's only been a week since he knew Isabella and only saw her with lustful eyes. But it was a fact that she took care of him and fed him. And of course, she also fed the previous owner of the body for many years.

This reason was enough for him to take ****. Damian quickly thought of things he could do.

Just then, the room's door opened and a woman entered inside. She said, "I heard you shout. Are you fine?"

Damian turned to face her. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties, wearing a tight black dress that emphasized her curves. Her vivid reddish-pink hair was tied up in a braid, adding to her alluring appearance. Her breasts were larger than Isabella's, reaching an F cup size.

'Great, you're already sexualizing someone,' Damian thought.

Shaking his head, Damian responded, "No, I'm fine. It was just a dream."

"It's understandable," the woman approached him and revealed, "I'm Jack's wife, Brenda."

"Ah," Damian acknowledged with a nod.

She offered a gentle smile. "Isabella is safe. Though she's currently ****, she'll recover in a few days."

Damian remained speechless for a moment, his tension dissipating as he allowed himself to relax and return the smile.

'Good.. she is alive.'

Unknown to him, his smile was bright and vibrant, enhancing his already handsome appearance.

However, the smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression. Damian's voice turned serious as he stated, "Brenda, can you please call Jack? I want to make a deal with him. It's urgent."

Brenda silently looked at him and then nodded. 'Is there anything else you need? Or want to see Isabella?"

"No. Thank you."

Her smile widened. "Let me call Jack then."