Tomiko pulled back slightly, her voice soft but laced with something darker, something hungry. "Sweet dreams... Jack..." she whispered, her voice thick with unspoken desire.

I could feel her presence lingering beside the bed, her gaze burning into me, her thoughts a storm of what-ifs and finallys.

She was imagining it—imagining me at her mercy, imagining the things she could do, the lines she could cross. And then, after what felt like an eternity, her footsteps retreated, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

The moment she was gone, I opened my eyes, my vision clear, my mind sharp. The drug was gone, my body fully restored. But the question remained, burning in my mind like a brand:

What was Tomiko’s plan?

And more importantly, how far was she willing to go to see it through?

I let out a slow, controlled breath, my fingers flexing against the sheets. The aphrodisiac part of her concoction would have worked on a normal man—lowering inhibitions, heightening desire, making them pliant.

But I wasn’t normal. My healing factor had already purged every trace of it from my system.

I lay in Tomiko’s bed, the sheets cool against my skin, the scent of her—cherry blossoms and something darker, muskier—clinging to the air around me.

My mind was sharp, my body fully restored, but I needed to sell the act. Needed to make her believe the drug was still working, that I was under its influence.

So I let the heat build.

My healing factor had purged the drug from my system, but I could mimic its effects. I focused on the warmth spreading through me, letting my skin flush, my breathing grow heavier, my body temperature rise as if the aphrodisiac were still coursing through my veins.

The room, already warm, began to feel stifling. I shifted slightly, my movements slow and deliberate, as if I were half-asleep, half-dreaming.

A bead of sweat rolled down my temple, my chest rising and falling with exaggerated slowness. I let my head loll to the side, my voice a low, breathy murmur. "Oba-san..." I called out, my tone thick with feigned drowsiness. "It’s... too hot..."

The door creaked open almost instantly, as if she’d been waiting just outside, listening. Tomiko stepped inside, her kimono slightly loosened, her hair down in a way I’d never seen before—soft, tousled, as if she’d been running her fingers through it.

The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a silver glow over her, making her look almost ethereal. But her eyes—her eyes—were dark with something far more earthly.

"Jack?" Her voice was soft, laced with concern, but there was an undercurrent of something else—anticipation. She moved closer, her bare feet silent against the tatami mat. "Are you okay?"

I didn’t open my eyes fully. Instead, I let my lids flutter, my gaze hazy, as if I were caught between sleep and wakefulness.

My voice was a whisper, my words slurred just enough to sell the act. "The room... it’s too warm..." I shifted again, my body arching slightly, my muscles tensing as if the heat were unbearable. "I can’t... I can’t breathe..."

Tomiko’s breath hitched, her fingers pressing against her lips as if to stifle a gasp. She hesitated for only a second before moving to the wall, adjusting the thermostat. The hum of the air conditioning kicking in filled the room, but it did little to cool the tension between us.

I let out a soft, breathy moan, my voice thick with feigned discomfort. "Still... too hot..." My hand moved restlessly against the blanket, my fingers curling into the fabric before pushing it away. The sheet slid down my body, pooling at my waist, and I made sure my movements were slow, deliberate—teasing.

Tomiko’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze locking onto the way the fabric shifted, the way my body was revealed inch by inch. And then, she saw it.

The bulge in my pants was impossible to miss.

My cock strained against the fabric, the outline sharp and unmistakable, the heat of my arousal making the material cling to me. I let my hips shift slightly, as if I were trying to get comfortable, but the movement only made the bulge more pronounced.

My voice was a low, dreamy murmur, my eyes still half-lidded, my expression a mix of sleepy confusion and something darker, something hungry.

"Oba-san..." I whispered, my voice thick, my gaze flickering up to hers for just a second before drifting away again, as if I were too dazed to focus. "It’s... still hot..."

Tomiko’s breath came out in a sharp gasp, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides. I could feel her gaze on me, burning, as if she were memorizing every inch of me. Her thoughts were a storm, a mix of shock, desire, and guilt—but the desire was winning.

[He’s... reacting... The drug is working... Oh God, he’s so...]

Her voice was a whisper, her words trembling. "Jack..." She took a step closer, her kimono swaying with the movement, the fabric parting slightly to reveal the curve of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. "Do you... Do you want me to help you?"

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I let my body shift again, my hips rolling slightly, the motion making the bulge in my pants even more obvious. My voice was a low, breathy murmur, my eyes still heavy with feigned drowsiness.

"I don’t know..." I let my hand drift down my body, my fingers hovering just above the waistband of my pants, as if I were considering touching myself but wasn’t sure I should. "It’s... uncomfortable..."

Tomiko’s breath hitched, her gaze locked onto my hand, her thoughts a whirlwind of want and hesitation. She was torn between the sister she was supposed to be, the woman she wanted to be, and the guilt gnawing at her for betraying Kasumi.

But the guilt was fading.

[He’s under the influence... He doesn’t know what he’s doing... This is my chance...]

She took another step closer, her voice a whisper. "Jack... let me..." Her hand reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered just above my waist. "Let me help you..."

I let my breath hitch, my body tensing slightly as if her touch were electric. My voice was a low, dreamy murmur, my gaze flickering up to hers, dark and heavy with something that looked like longing. "Oba-san..." I whispered, my voice thick, my lips parting slightly as if I were struggling to form words. "I don’t... I don’t know if that’s a good idea..."