The witch's song still echoed inside my skull, fading slowly like a dying echo in an endless cathedral.
Then, without warning, the sensation of falling changed.
Instead of empty void, I plunged into something solid — warm, thick liquid. My body crashed into it with a heavy splash. Warm water engulfed me instantly, enveloping my entire form like a living thing. It wasn't cold like normal water. It was unnaturally warm, almost feverish, thick and viscous, clinging to my skin like oil mixed with blood.
I was drowning.
My lungs burned as I instinctively tried to breathe, but only warm fluid rushed into my mouth and nose. Panic exploded through me. I thrashed wildly in the darkness, arms flailing, trying to find any sense of direction. I couldn't open my eyes — the liquid felt too heavy, too alive, pressing against my eyelids like warm syrup.
I was sinking deeper.
My heart hammered violently in my chest. The crimson mark on my face and arm burned like molten iron, pulsing in time with my terror.
In my desperate struggle, my hand suddenly grabbed onto something.
Something soft.
Something warm.
Flesh.
It yielded gently under my fingers — full, heavy, and unmistakably a woman's breast. The nipple pressed against my palm, soft yet firm. For a split second, my mind reeled in confusion and twisted relief. I squeezed instinctively, desperate for anything solid in this nightmare.
Was it Sensei?
Was it one of the girls?
Or was it something else entirely — something wearing the shape of comfort?
I couldn't tell.
The warm, thick liquid continued pulling me down. My other hand flailed and found more soft flesh — a hip, a thigh. I clung desperately to the body, pressing myself against it as if it could save me from drowning in this impossible place.
My lungs screamed for air.
Consciousness began slipping away.
The last thing I felt was the strange, comforting warmth of the body against mine… and the sickening realization that whatever I was holding might not be human at all.
Then everything faded to black.
I lost consciousness, still clutching the soft, warm flesh in the warm, blood-like water.
------
When I finally opened my eyes, I was no longer drowning in warm, blood-like water.
I was lying on a bed.
The ceiling above me was made of dark wooden beams, old and weathered, with intricate carvings of vines, runes, and strange symbols I couldn't understand. Soft, warm light filtered into the room from a small arched window. The air smelled of dried herbs, aged wood, candle wax, and something faintly metallic — like old blood.
This wasn't my room.
This was a witch's house straight out of a fantasy novel.
The bed I lay on was large, with a heavy wooden frame and thick blankets woven with dark patterns. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ancient-looking tomes, glass jars containing glowing liquids, dried flowers, and strange bones. A black iron cauldron sat in the corner. Candles of various sizes flickered on every surface, casting dancing shadows across the room.
I slowly sat up.
My body felt… different. Lighter. I looked down and realized I was no longer naked. I was wearing a long, flowing black cloak made of fine, heavy fabric with silver embroidery along the edges — the kind a wizard or dark sorcerer would wear in stories. Underneath, I had on dark trousers and a fitted tunic. My feet were covered in soft leather boots. The crimson mark on my face and arm was still there, but it felt… quieter. Almost dormant.
I touched the cloak in disbelief.
When I had touched the mirror, I was completely naked. Now I was fully dressed in clothes I had never seen before. It felt like waking up from a fever dream, except everything around me was too real — the texture of the wood, the scent of herbs, the weight of the cloak on my shoulders.
My heart started beating faster.
This place… I had been here before.
The wooden house in the thunderstorm. The first time the mirror pulled me in. The night everything began.
This was the same world.
Or at least… a version of it.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. The floorboards creaked softly under my boots. Everything felt slightly off, like I had stepped into a memory that had been waiting for me. The cosmic horror I had just fallen through — the shattered mirrors, the bleeding clocks, the witch's song — still echoed faintly in the back of my mind like a half-forgotten nightmare.
I walked toward the small window and looked outside.
Dense, dark forest stretched endlessly under a blood-red sky. Towering trees with twisted branches swayed gently, even though there was no wind. In the distance, I could see the faint silhouette of ruined spires and floating fragments of buildings — remnants of the madness I had witnessed while falling.
I touched the crimson mark on my cheek.
It pulsed once, warmly, as if welcoming me back.
A quiet, unsettling thought settled in my mind:
This isn't a dream.
I've returned to the other side.
------
The heavy wooden door creaked open with a low, ominous groan.
A woman stepped into the room, bringing with her the faint scent of night-blooming flowers, smoldering incense, and something darker — like old blood and crushed velvet.
She was striking.
A woman who appeared to be in her early to mid-thirties, with long, raven-black hair that fell like liquid midnight down her back. A wide-brimmed witch's hat shadowed her face, but nothing could hide the glowing crimson of her eyes — the same shade as the mark burning on my skin. Her outfit was pure dark sorcery: a form-fitting black dress with deep slits running high up both thighs, revealing smooth, pale legs with every step. The neckline plunged dramatically, barely containing her large, heavy breasts. Her nipples were clearly visible, stiff and pressing against the thin fabric. She wore no bra.
She moved with predatory grace, the hem of her dress whispering against the wooden floor as she approached the bed where I stood.
For a long moment, those blood-red eyes studied me in silence. Then her full lips parted.
"Who are you?" Her voice was low, smooth, and laced with ancient authority. "How did a boy like you find your way into my sanctuary? And more importantly…"
Her gaze dropped to the crimson mark spreading across my face and arm.
"…how did you receive that curse?"
She stopped just a few feet away from me. The air between us felt charged, heavy with unspoken power.
I swallowed hard before answering.
"My name is Ren Amekawa. I… I found an ancient mirror in my world. When I touched it, it pulled me here. This is the second time. The first time I barely escaped. This time… I fell through something much worse."
Elizabeth's crimson eyes narrowed slightly. She reached out with elegant fingers and gently traced the edge of the mark on my cheek. Her touch was cool, yet sent a strange warmth racing through my veins.
"This mark," she murmured, almost to herself, "is no ordinary curse. It was born from a succubus queen's final breath — a binding of lust, hunger, and endless hunger. It devours purity and twists desire into something monstrous. Those who bear it slowly lose themselves… or become something far worse."
She pulled her hand back and looked directly into my eyes.
"I carry the same curse."
She tilted her head slightly, allowing the moonlight to catch the faint crimson veins creeping up her own neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of her dress.
"That is why I live here, deep in this forsaken forest. Alone. Far away from any living soul who might fall victim to what this mark forces me to become when the hunger grows too strong. The mark can only be undone by someone who carries no magic in their blood — a pure vessel untouched by sorcery."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she offered a small, mysterious smile.
"My name is Elizabeth Evernight. Keeper of the Hollowed Grove… and prisoner of this curse, just like you."
She stepped even closer, her crimson eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and something far more dangerous — hunger.
"Tell me, Ren Amekawa… how deeply has the mark already taken root inside you?"
------
Elizabeth Evernight stood motionless for a long moment after I spoke, her crimson eyes narrowing with dawning realization. The candles in the room flickered as though reacting to her shifting emotions. A heavy silence blanketed the witch's cabin before she finally let out a slow, weary sigh.
"So… it really was you," she murmured, almost to herself.
She walked over to an old wooden chair and sat down gracefully, crossing her long, pale legs. The slit in her black dress parted, revealing smooth thigh. Her expression grew distant, as if recalling a painful memory.
"That night… the storm was raging worse than it had in decades," she began, her voice low and melodic, carrying the weight of years spent in isolation. "The hunger inside me had grown unbearable. The curse was devouring what little sanity I had left. I could feel it crawling through my veins, whispering promises of flesh and ecstasy if only I would feed it."
She looked directly at me, her blood-red eyes gleaming with regret and something sharper.
"I sensed something. A presence from another world — pure, untouched by magic. A vessel. In my madness, When you appeared in this very room… I lost control."
Elizabeth's lips curved into a bitter smile.
"I kissed you. Not gently. Not with affection. I devoured your mouth like a starving beast. My curse flowed into you through that kiss — the first true transfer in years. Because you carry no magic in your blood, the curse did not consume you as it would a sorcerer. Instead… it chose you. You became its perfect vessel. A carrier. A key."
She leaned forward slightly, her heavy breasts straining against the dark fabric of her dress.
"And in doing so, the curse partially released its hold on me. For the first time in years, the constant burning hunger lessened. But now it lives inside you, Ren Amekawa. Growing stronger with every passing day."
I stood frozen, processing her words. The aggressive kiss from that stormy night… it had been her all along.
Elizabeth continued, her voice growing quieter, more solemn.
"This curse is born from ancient succubus royalty. It does not merely increase lust. It demands it. If the bearer does not regularly engage in sexual release, the mark will slowly devour their lifespan. Days become weeks. Weeks become months. Eventually… nothing remains but a withered husk."
She glanced down at the crimson mark on her own collarbone, tracing it with a finger.
"As a witch of considerable power, I cannot lie with ordinary men without corrupting them or draining their life force. That is why I exiled myself here, deep in the Whispering Woods. Enduring the agony of denial. Starving the curse day after day, year after year."
Her crimson eyes returned to mine, intense and unblinking.
"But now you are here. A pure vessel. Someone the curse cannot easily consume. Fate has brought us together again, Ren. Whether as salvation… or mutual destruction… only time will tell."
The fire in the hearth crackled softly. Shadows danced across the walls lined with strange artifacts and forbidden tomes. Elizabeth Evernight watched me with a complex mixture of hunger, guilt, and fragile hope.
The weight of her revelation settled heavily upon my shoulders.
I had not simply stumbled into another world.
I had become part of its curse.