Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World-Chapter 215: Forgot About Ysmeine

The silence that followed that statement was heavy, pressing against the walls of the vast chamber.

Zaeryn stared at the space where her holographic eyes met his. A shiver went down his spine that had nothing to do with the cool, recycled air of the Council Chamber. It was the weight of her gaze, the terrifying precision of her approval.

"I’m not a masterpiece," Zaeryn said, his voice tight, cutting through the quiet. "I’m just a ’Strategic Asset.’ Remember? That’s what you sold me as."

He didn’t actually believe he was just a tool, but he had noticed the pattern. To Lysara, to the Council, even to her, he was a weapon to be pointed at the Vorthaks. A biological loophole to be neutralized or exploited. He understood why Lysara would look at him that way. She was a soldier. But Athea was supposed to be his mother.

Athea’s expression softened around the edges, losing some of its majestic polish. She leaned in, her hologram face inches from his, invading his personal space with a ghost of warmth.

"That title is a shield, little one," she corrected softly. "In this world, sons born into the royal bloodline are not allowed to see another day. They are erased. But ’Assets’? Assets are protected at all costs. I convinced Lysara that is what you were to make sure the Council cannot touch you." Her eyes searched his, intense and unyielding. "But you are much more to me than that."

She straightened up, the tender moment evaporating as the regal mask slid back into place. The warmth remained in her eyes, but the steel returned to her spine.

"As you can see, the Council is not going to be an issue for now. Most of them are supportive, or at least intimidated enough to fall in line. Use that support wisely," she commanded. It wasn’t a plea. It was an instruction.

She stepped back, the hologram flickering slightly as she put distance between them.

"I want you to get as strong as you can. I will be watching," she promised. She reached out as if to touch his face again, though her hand was just light and air stopping inches from his skin. "We will speak again. Be careful. And listen to Lysara. She knows what is best for you in this place."

"Sure," Zaeryn said, the word coming out automatic. But as she began to fade, he stepped forward, a sudden question burning in his chest. "Wait. Before you go."

Athea paused, her image stabilizing. "Yes?"

"Can you tell me anything about Viora?" he asked. "Ysmeine mentioned she knows. And that she wants to meet me."

Athea’s expression shifted. It was a subtle thing, a ripple in a calm pond. "Oh, your sister?" She looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing away as if summoning an image of her daughter. "Well... she is formidable. She’s beautiful, with a fire that is entirely her own. She is a Warlady down to her bones."

She looked back at him, her gaze softening. "If you’re worried she won’t like you, you have nothing to worry about. Viora values strength and truth. The fact that you exist is a shock to her, but she won’t reject you."

Zaeryn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away, feigning a casual indifference he didn’t quite feel. "I’m not worried about that. I couldn’t care less if she hated me or whatever. I just wanted to know what I’m walking into."

Athea studied him for a beat, seeing right through the defensive posture. "Of course," she said, a hint of amusement touching her voice. "Just know that she fought very hard to ensure this meeting happens. She wants to know her brother."

With a final, knowing nod, the hologram dissolved into motes of light, leaving Zaeryn alone in the silence, left to wonder if he was ready to meet a sister who was apparently as terrifying as the rest of his family.

The room plunged back into standard lighting, leaving Zaeryn alone in the center of the vast chamber. He stared at the empty space for a long moment, his hands clenched in his pockets.

The massive doors behind him groaned and began to open.

High Commander Lysara walked back in. She didn’t look surprised to see him standing there alone.

"Is the connection terminated?" she asked. It wasn’t really a question.

"Yeah," Zaeryn said, turning to face her. He forced his posture to relax, pushing the weird feelings down where he could deal with them later. "She had to go. Probably had some other mysterious royal business."

Lysara nodded slowly. "Princess Athea is a busy woman. The fact that she made time for this... it speaks volumes."

"Does it?" Zaeryn asked. "Because I didn’t feel even for a second that I was meeting the woman who gave birth to me, it felt nothing like a family reunion."

Lysara just looked at him, however she didn’t have an answer to his statement. Zaeryn sighed, starting to walk out, "Okay, I have to go," he said.

"Alright be safe, Zaeryn," Lysara said, watching him until he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

The heavy doors sealed with a thud, cutting off the cool air of the High Commander’s office. Zaeryn stood in the corridor for a second, just breathing. The silence out here felt different. Less heavy. Less like he was being weighed and measured for a coffin or a crown.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long, rough exhale. A masterpiece. That word was going to stick in his craw for a while. It sounded nice on the surface, but what made it feel cold was the fact that Athea was the one who said it, and she made it sound like something she would say about a statue, not a person.

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a Vorthak." Someone’s voice spoke up, drawing him away from his thoughts.

Zaeryn looked up. Daphne was leaning against the wall a few yards away, arms crossed over her chest. She had that look she always got when she was trying to figure something out, brows slightly furrowed, violet eyes sharp and analyzing. She’d clearly been waiting for him.

He pushed off the doorframe and started walking toward her, forcing his posture to relax.

Daphne fell into step beside him as he kept walking. Her heels clicked a steady rhythm on the polished floor. She didn’t push for details right away, which he appreciated. She just watched him out of the corner of her eye, her scientific curiosity warring with something that looked surprisingly like concern.

"Did she..." Daphne hesitated, which was rare for her. "Did she live up to the hype? The mysterious benefactor?"

"Benefactor is a nice way to put it," Zaeryn muttered. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "She was... intense. Impressive. Cold." He glanced at Daphne. "She called me a masterpiece."

Daphne made a noise that sounded like a suppressed laugh. "Well. To be fair, from a biological standpoint, she’s not wrong. Your genetic makeup is objectively fascinating. You are indeed a masterpiece. I’ve said as much myself."

"Yeah, but you say it while looking at me like you want to eat me," Zaeryn shot back, bumping her shoulder with his. "She said it like she was appraising a weapon she plans to use later. It was.... Dehumanizing."

Daphne stopped walking. She reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a halt. The hallway was empty, the sterile lights humming overhead. She looked up at him, her expression serious for once. "It does sound dehumanizing, if she thinks that’s all you are," Daphne finished, her voice softening. "But maybe she didn’t really mean it like that. She’s royalty, Zaeryn. And a strategist. She sees the world in assets and liabilities," Daphne said, her voice dropping lower. "But she also risked everything to keep you hidden. And she stepped in to stop the Council from locking you up. That has to count for something, right?"

Zaeryn looked into her violet eyes. He saw the logic there, the cold hard facts that even himself deep down agreed with.

"I guess," he conceded. "It just... it didn’t feel like meeting a mother. It felt like meeting a boss."

Daphne smirked then, the tension breaking. She stepped closer, invading his personal space in that way she loved to do. Her hand slid up his arm, resting on his chest.

"Well, lucky for you, you don’t need a boss right now," she purred, her thumb brushing over the fabric of his uniform. "You look like you need a distraction."

Zaeryn felt something shift at her touch, a warm pulse of energy that had nothing to do with politics or royal bloodlines. This was simple. This made sense.

"A distraction?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were busy, Chief Scientist. Don’t you have work to do?"

"The work or whatever can wait," she said, her eyes darkening slightly. "Besides, my favorite subject is right here. And he looks very... stressed."

She leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t demanding like the ones in the lab, but it was promising.

"Come back to the lab," she whispered against his skin.

Zaeryn chuckled, "Sure, let’s go." He was about to let her lead him down the corridor, however before he could go further, his communication device pinged. And he looked at it to realize that Ysmeine was calling him.

"Oh shit, Ysmeine," he muttered, pulling back.