The dream felt different this time.
I stood in a massive library with shelves stretching into infinity. Every book glowed faintly purple, and when I pulled one down, the title read "Divine Milking System - User Manual."
Great. Even my subconscious was trolling me.
Someone coughed behind me.
I turned to find an old man sitting at a desk that definitely hadn't been there a second ago. White beard down to his chest. Reading glasses perched on his nose. Robes that looked stolen from a fantasy convention.
"You're doing well, young Monroe."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Your benefactor. Your patron. Your divine sponsor." The old man smiled. "I'm the reason you're not dead."
Right. The mysterious entity who'd transmigrated me into this body with a perverted power system and a death timer.
"Thanks for the nightmare fuel."
