Zerena could feel his hands kneading her butt.

At some point, though, her brain had quietly stopped treating every new touch as a separate offense. His hands had been wandering over her body for so long that they had simply become another irritating part of the ridiculous task she was forcing herself to endure.

Even the steady pressure of his erection against her stomach had long since been pushed into the mental drawer labeled:

Deal with later.

Preferably much, much later.

There were only a few minutes left.

She could survive a few minutes.

So she let him continue noisily slurping at her armpit while his hand kept absentmindedly fondling her butt.

Not because she approved.

Not because she’d gotten used to it.

But because stopping him now would only drag the whole thing out even longer.

Meanwhile, both of her hands hovered uncertainly behind his head, wavering every few seconds with the overwhelming temptation to smack the ever-living shit out of him.

She didn’t.

Barely.

Watching him only made the urge worse.

His tongue kept tracing slowly through the crease of her armpit with the determination of someone convinced he’d eventually discover a hidden treasure there.

There wasn’t.

There wasn’t even any sweat left.

He’d already licked that clean several minutes ago.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Zerena, her eyes drifted toward the wall clock.

The minute hand clicked into place.

Straight up.

Twelve.

She looked back at him.

"...Is it finished?"

Max was tempted—deeply, profoundly tempted—to shake his head.

Unfortunately, that particular lie had absolutely no chance of surviving.

She’d been checking the clock often enough that even he wasn’t optimistic about talking his way out of it.

And while he enjoyed living dangerously...

Getting smacked over five extra imaginary minutes seemed like a spectacularly poor investment.

So, with genuine reluctance, he gave a small nod and finally lifted his face away from her armpit.

This time, Zerena actually smiled.

A small one.

The kind that lasted barely a second before disappearing again as she lowered her arms, not even giving Max a chance to inspect the results of his very dedicated efforts.

A tragedy, really.

He’d put in honest work.

Sliding off his lap, she picked up the same T-shirt she’d been using earlier. First she wiped her armpits, then her breasts, looking thoroughly exhausted by the entire day’s events.

"So," she said, her voice carrying the tiredness of someone who’d reached today’s quota for absurdity several hours ago. "I’ve been reading about systems like yours."

Max froze.

His disappointment evaporated so quickly it was almost impressive.

Instead, a completely different alarm bell started ringing inside his head.

’She’d been reading about systems?’

Please let it have been a few ordinary web searches.

Just some vague articles.

Anything but...

Manga.

Light novels.

His expression remained calm.

Internally, however, he was already preparing for disaster.

Because if she’d started reading those, questions were coming.

Lots of questions.

Questions that enthusiastic readers loved asking and that liars absolutely hated answering.

Worse, she’d start comparing his system to the ones in fiction.

And that was dangerous.

He’d already told her his system was miraculous.

Zerena lay back on the bed, letting out another long sigh as she stretched. She clasped one arm with the other above her head, the movement pressing them lightly against her breasts before she relaxed again.

"They usually have names, don’t they?" she asked. "Training System. Mech System. All that nerd stuff. What’s yours called?"

That question, at least, wasn’t a problem.

Max hadn’t actually lied to her much about his system.

Mostly just the minor details.

Like the fact that it wasn’t really helping him become stronger so much as rewarding him with mana instead of points to strengthen his body... or, for that matter, lengthen his penis.

Still, just because he could tell her didn’t mean he wanted to.

Protagonists didn’t survive very long by telling people everything. Especially not someone who was technically part of a stepfamily.

If fiction had taught him anything—and fiction had taught him an alarming amount—it was that step-relatives had an almost supernatural chance of becoming early-arc antagonists.

Granted, Zerena had already done a spectacular job of ruining that stereotype.

Most villains didn’t spend half a day helping you understand magic while complaining the entire time.

Even so...

Old habits died hard.

The problem was that he’d already dug himself far too deep into the story.

Admitting he’d lied now wasn’t exactly an attractive option.

The absolute best-case outcome involved Zerena beating the ever-living hell out of him before demanding answers.

And while Max wasn’t particularly worried about surviving the conversation...

He was very worried about losing future cooperation.

That would’ve been catastrophic.

So his brain quietly invented another name on the spot.

Not because he thought the real one possessed some mystical curse.

Just because saying it aloud somehow felt like a bad idea.

"It... it’s called Scripture of Taboos," he said.

The name had taken all of three seconds to invent.

Honestly, though...

For a system that rewarded mana in exchange for forbidden acts, it fit suspiciously well.

Zerena seemed to find the name acceptable.

Or at least acceptable enough.

She still looked faintly disgusted as she lowered her phone for a moment.

"...It’s not as bad as I was expecting," she admitted. "Still sounds evil, though."

Max nodded absentmindedly.

His attention had already wandered elsewhere.

Namely, to the fact that she’d apparently decided covering herself was no longer worth the effort. She remained stretched out on the bed exactly as she was while casually unlocking her phone, treating the entire situation with the indifference of someone who’d simply run out of energy to care.

Trying very hard to sound casual, Max asked,

"What did you think it’d be called?"

Without even looking up from the screen, Zerena answered,

Max let out a small chuckle.

Honestly...

She wasn’t that far off.

If someone had described the average protagonist who ended up with this sort of system, those names would’ve sounded alarmingly believable.

Fortunately, Scripture of Taboos at least had enough dignity to pretend there was something profound going on.

"We have to stop by the registration office around one this afternoon, so go get your documents while I wash up," Zerena said, setting her phone aside before pushing herself off the bed with another tired sigh.

"And afterward..." She stretched her stiff shoulders once before glancing back at him. "I’ll take you to the lab. We still have quite a few things to set up there."

Max was genuinely curious about this lab.

Both he and the previous owner of this body had heard plenty about it, but neither had ever actually been there.

It sat well outside the city, where land was far cheaper.

Of course, there was a very good reason hardly anyone lived that far out anymore.

Ever since the world’s Awakening, the wilderness had become dramatically more dangerous. Most people preferred the safety of heavily protected cities, where walls and mages did a far better job of discouraging monsters than optimism ever could.

Villages and small settlements had become increasingly rare.

Unless they happened to be built around a military outpost, living out in the open was generally considered an excellent way to become part of a monster’s diet.

His thoughts were interrupted a moment later by the sound of a door clicking shut.

Max looked over instinctively.

"...Ah."

A tiny flicker of disappointment crossed his face.

He’d been one second too late.

There went his chance to catch one last glimpse of her naked breasts before she went to wash up.