Three days later, Venis walked out of the hospital on unsteady legs, discharge papers clutched in one hand, small paper bag of antibiotics and painkillers in the other. The bandages on his neck had been replaced with a lighter dressing—still bulky, but no longer choking. The cannula was gone; the oxygen tubes had left faint red marks behind his ears that he kept touching absentmindedly. Outside, the late-afternoon sun felt too bright after the sterile white of his room. He squinted, breathing real air for the first time in days—city exhaust, distant food carts, the faint metallic tang of rain on asphalt.
The blue window flickered into view the moment his feet hit the pavement.
[Daily Quest Failed]Task: Claim a Virgin's First Time – IncompletePenalty Applied
Points: -10 (Current: 5) Temporary Libido Debuff: Active (72 hours remaining) All Sexual Stats Reduced by 50% Until Debuff Expires Warning: Repeated failures may result in permanent stat locks. Complete future quests to restore balance.
Venis stared at the text until it faded, a cold weight settling in his stomach. Seventy-two hours of nothing. No drive, no twitch, no heat. Just… flat. He swallowed, throat still tender, and shoved the thought down. Later. Deal with it later.
A familiar black sedan pulled up to the curb—sleek, clean, windows tinted just enough to look expensive without screaming it. Charlotte leaned over from the driver's seat and pushed the passenger door open, her smile brighter than the sun behind her.
"Get in before you melt out there, handsome," she called, voice already carrying that playful lilt.
Venis slid into the leather seat—cool against his back through the thin hospital-issue shirt. The car smelled like her: soft vanilla from her lotion, a hint of jasmine shampoo, and underneath it all, the clean, warm scent of her skin after a shower. Not overpowering, just… comforting. Like coming home to something good.
She pulled away smoothly, merging into traffic with easy confidence. Her hands on the wheel were steady, nails still that soft cherry red from the night she'd found him bleeding. Today she wore a simple white sundress—thin straps over her shoulders, hem fluttering just above her knees when she shifted gears. The fabric clung lightly where her thighs met the seat, outlining the gentle curve of her legs. Her raven hair was down, loose waves catching the sun through the windshield, turning strands to glossy black silk.
"Guild orientation went well," she said, glancing at him with those emerald eyes that seemed to sparkle more today. "I'm officially in. Starting with D-rank dungeons next week. Pay's solid—three times what I was making on freelance runs. Benefits, too. Medical coverage that actually works."
Venis managed a small smile. "That's… really good, Charlotte. You deserve it. I'm proud of you."
She reached over and squeezed his thigh—brief, warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary. "Thanks. Feels weird not scrambling for the next gate anymore. But good weird." Her fingers stayed on his leg, thumb brushing small circles. "And honestly? The best part is knowing I get to see you more now. No more disappearing into random teams for weeks."
Venis's heart gave a quiet thud. "I'd like that."
They drove in comfortable quiet for a while, radio playing something soft and slow. The alcohol from the soju she'd stashed in the center console was already loosening them both—small sips at stoplights, shared giggles over nothing. By the time they reached her apartment building, the bottle was half-gone, cheeks flushed, words coming easier and sillier.
Inside her place—small but bright, open-plan living room/kitchen, big windows letting in golden afternoon light—Charlotte kicked off her sandals and padded barefoot to the kitchen. She returned with the rest of the soju, two fresh glasses, ice clinking, and a plate of sliced fruit and cheese.
"To surviving," she said, handing him one and clinking her glass against his. Her eyes were already glassy, playful.
"To surviving," he echoed, and they drank.
The alcohol hit fast on empty stomachs and hospital-weakened bodies. Soon they were laughing too loud, leaning into each other on the couch, thighs pressed together, her hand resting casually high on his leg.
"You know," she said after the third glass, voice husky and slow, "this is way better than any farewell party could've been. No Jae blasting terrible playlists. No Min-ho trying to arm-wrestle everyone. Just… us." She turned toward him fully, dress riding up her thighs, breasts shifting softly under the thin fabric. "I love spending time with you, Venis. Like… really love it. You make everything feel lighter. Sweeter."
Venis felt heat bloom in his chest—not from the soju, or not only. "You make everything sweeter too. I've never met anyone like you. Kind. Beautiful. Strong. And you still look at me like I'm worth something."
Her smile turned soft, almost vulnerable. She set her glass down and shifted closer until their noses almost touched. "You are worth something. To me, you're worth everything."
The air thickened. She leaned in first, lips brushing his—slow, tentative, tasting of soju and peach. Venis kissed her back, hand sliding to her waist—slim, warm through the dress. She sighed against his mouth, small and sweet, and deepened the kiss. Tongues brushed—lazy, drunk, exploratory. Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently, pulling him closer.
They stumbled to the bedroom laughing between kisses, hands roaming. She pushed the door open with her hip; inside was simple—queen bed with white sheets, soft lamp casting a warm glow, curtains half-drawn against the evening light.
Charlotte stepped back, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. She reached behind her neck, untying the straps. The dress slid down her body in a slow whisper—pooling at her feet. Nothing underneath.
Venis's breath caught hard.
Her body was breathtaking in the lamplight. Full breasts sat high and round, pale pink nipples already tight and begging for touch. Slim waist curved into wide, soft hips—the kind made for holding, for pulling close. Between her thighs, completely smooth—no pubic hair at all, just flawless, pale skin leading to plump outer lips that were already flushed and glistening faintly with arousal. Long legs, toned and smooth, calves flexing as she stepped out of the dress. Her skin glowed—flushed pink across her chest and throat, a light sheen of sweat from the alcohol and heat between them. The scent of her filled the room—warm vanilla, jasmine, and now the intimate, heady musk of her desire, sweet and intoxicating.
She looked at him like he was the only thing in the world.
Venis pulled off his shirt—careful of the bandage—then his pants. Naked now, he stood in front of her. His body was average—lean, not cut, cock hanging soft between his legs. No twitch. No swell. Nothing. Even with her standing there—breasts rising with each quick breath, nipples dark and stiff, smooth mound glistening, thighs pressed together just enough to show the slick sheen between them—he felt only a distant echo of want in his mind. His body stayed stubbornly unresponsive.
Charlotte stepped closer, hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, down his back. "You're so beautiful," she whispered against his lips, drunk and earnest. "I've wanted this for so long. Wanted you. Just you. More than once. More than tonight. I want you, Venis—all of you."
She kissed him deeper, body pressing flush—breasts flattening warmly against his chest, nipples dragging over his skin like sparks. Her hand drifted lower, fingers curling around his soft length, stroking gently, lovingly, expectantly.
Nothing happened. No hardening, no pulse, no heat.
She froze. Her fingers tightened slightly in confusion, then loosened. She pulled back just enough to look down—his cock limp and unmoving in her hand.
Venis looked down too.
Shock hit them both at the same time.
Charlotte's eyes widened, the drunken haze clearing in an instant. "Venis…?"
He stared at himself—soft, useless, betraying him in the worst possible moment. His face burned. "I—I don't… it's not…"
She let go slowly, hand hovering as if unsure what to do with it. "Is it… the meds? The infection? Or…?"
Venis couldn't speak. The shame was suffocating—hot, choking, worse than the infection that nearly killed him. She's naked. She wants me. She just said she wants more than tonight. And I can't even get hard. Not a twitch. Nothing.
He stepped back abruptly, breaking contact. "I'm sorry. I—I can't."
"Venis, wait—"
He didn't. He bent, grabbed his pants from the floor, yanked them on with shaking hands. Shirt next—buttons missed, fabric twisted. Socks. Shoes. He didn't look at her—couldn't look at her smooth, perfect body, the confusion and hurt starting to bloom in her eyes.
"I have to go," he muttered, voice thick. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
Charlotte reached for him—fingers brushing his arm. "Please. Talk to me. It's okay, we can—"
But he was already moving. Past the bed, through the doorway, across the living room. The front door opened with a click that sounded too loud.
He stepped into the hallway without looking back.
The door shut behind him—soft, final.
Charlotte stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, naked, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the closed front door.
Venis walked down the corridor—fast, then faster—until he hit the elevator. Inside, he leaned against the wall, breathing hard, eyes stinging.
She wanted me. Really wanted me. More than once. And I ruined it. Couldn't even get hard. Couldn't give her anything. What kind of man am I? What do I do now? How do I face her again?
The elevator dinged at the lobby.
He stepped out into the night, alone.