Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

"I won't let them. I'm only playing along for now," he said, his jaw tight.

Aeris, who had been casually draped close beside him, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his arm, leaned in, her scent a warm, subtle invitation. 

She squeezed his arm again, her gaze intense on his, "Yes, I know you will. But careful," she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper, "We have company, so maybe don't spill your plan." Her fingers lingered, almost caressing his skin before slowly withdrawing, leaving a faint warmth.

Zaeryn frowned, then looked behind him, realizing for the first time that Mireille and Arya were standing nearby in the room, by the entryway.

Of course they were, after all; their job was to watch him. They even lived in the same place as him now. How annoying.

As if on cue, Mireille stepped forward, her professional demeanor unbroken. 

Her eyes, however, seemed to linger for a fraction of a second on Zaeryn and Aeris's close proximity before she cleared her throat.

"Zaeryn, Daphne has requested that we escort you to Citadel for further assessment and testing," Mireille announced, her voice calm and devoid of emotion. "Get ready, we leave soon." She instructed.

Ysmeine's footsteps were soft but purposeful as she moved through the corridor. 

She reached the far end and scanned open the sealed room, her private rooms. The door slid shut behind her with a hiss.

For a long moment, she just stood there, motionless, her back to the room.

Then, as if remembering what she was here to do, she exhaled, slowly, shakily, and walked to the small terminal beside her bed.

The screen illuminated to life, casting cold blue light over her beautiful facial features.

>Secure Transmission – Encrypted Recipient: Athea. Message:

[He already knows, I'm not his real mother. He was a bit too observant for a kid, always suspected something was wrong, so I had no choice but to tell him the truth.

Athea, he is in trouble this time. I can't do much, not even my sister can help in the long run, I'm afraid.

If you still care about your son, respond]

She stared at the message, her finger hovering over 'Send.'

Ysmeine clenched her jaw as a soft chime confirmed the transmission.

She let out a long, frayed breath and sank onto the bed, the plush mattress swallowing her whole. For a heartbeat, she just sat there, eyes shut, the silence pressing down like iron chains. Zaeryn was trapped in a storm she couldn't pull him from—and for the first time, she didn't know if she ever could.

Not only that, but it seemed like something was wrong with him, or his body. She didn't know what exactly, as, she hadn't asked him about it yet. 

Earlier this week, when she checked his vitals through the med-link, his energy readings were unstable. Not enough to confirm anything, but enough to make her uneasy.

Then yesterday, after hearing the news, she knew her concern had been justified.

For now, though, her focus was keeping him out of the council's reach. And if he really was immune to the Fade, that was good news—great news. It meant she didn't have to fear for his life… or for him turning into one of them.

She revealed to the Council about his connection to the Royal Family, and Kayla Noctis, but that wasn't enough to guarantee his safety, in fact it only seemed to amplify their fascination with him. As long as they were interested in him, then he was in danger.

"Lyra," she murmured, her voice soft but clear, addressing the unseen AI integrated into her rooms.

A gentle chime responded, followed by a calm, feminine voice. "I'm here, Ysmeine."

"Connect to the Nexus and show me what's new about Athea. Public records, anything. Start with her last known public address."

"Sure. Accessing… compiling now."

A soft hum filled the air as the room's ambient lighting shifted, dimming subtly. The wall opposite Ysmeine's bed shimmered, then turned into a large, seamless display.

The first image materialized, a full-body projection of a woman.

She was gorgeous, almost too perfect to be real. And there was no mistaking her.

It was Princess Athea.

Dozens of holographic tiles bloomed around the projection, images, news footage, speech clips, stills from official events.

Athea's face filled the screen.

Sharp cheekbones. Eyes like Zaeryn's, penetrating. Not a single hair out of place. 

In one image, she wore a sleek, body-hugging suit made from a dark, shimmering material that seemed to glow from within; sharp, angled lines ran across her body, subtly lit by faint, glowing energy that hinted at her magic. In another, she stood in a military council chamber; and in yet another, she presided at the center of a bowing crowd, her expression cool, majestic, and unreadable.

"Athea, Royal-Blooded Sovereign of the 9th Region." "Status: Active. No recorded public appearance in the last several days. However, she was seen eight days ago during the Sovereign's Conclave."

Lyra's synthesized voice continued as Ysmeine slipped into silence. Her gaze was fixed on the woman on the screen as she got lost in thought for a while.

'If you're still active, Athea… Then why don't you respond? Why not for him?' She asked internally. 

The question was a bitter ache, a contradiction to Athea's known public presence. This proved that Athea had chosen to not speak to her or check up on her son. This was about more than simple absence; it was about a deliberate, cold silence from the one person who should care most.

Lyra's voice pulled her back.

"Renowned Strategos of the Royal Court. Minister of Arcane Affairs. Youngest scion to ever hold a seat on the Imperial Royal Council of Elder Houses. Her last public address occurred eight days and four hours ago during the Sovereign's Conclave. Topic: interdimensional resource acquisition and strategic defense protocols."

Ysmeine leaned back slightly, her jaw tight.

The projection shifted again—Athea standing beside a stern-faced Queen, inspecting the launch of a mysterious energy conduit, shaking hands with foreign dignitaries. Each image radiated authority. Power. Distance.

"Her public career is marked by unequalled advancements in dimensional gate technology and inter-realm diplomacy," Lyra continued, as more images flashed by, schematics of nexus gates, holographic maps, fleets of sleek star-vessels.

"She was instrumental in negotiating several key pacts, securing the royals dominance across the other sectors."

"That's enough Lyra." 

"Sure, I'm here to help, if you want me to look up more about her, or the royal family, and what role she has." Then, the stream of images faded.

Only one remained.

It was a picture of Athea and a young girl, maybe ten years old. The young girl had dark hair and brown eyes. In the picture, the two of them were smiling, not the practiced, tight-lipped mask of court life, but something real and genuine. The little girl's eyes sparkled, and Athea looked equally happy, although not as expressive, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked beautiful still, just way more Softer. And more human.

Ysmeine stared at the image. Her eyes were locked on the young girl. Her own expression turned into something between awe and anger. Admiration, frustration, or something else… a deep sorrow she couldn't name.

"When was this taken, Lyra?" she murmured.

"It was taken approximately nine and a half years ago," Lyra's calm, modulated voice replied. "The young girl with Athea is her daughter, Aphrodite."

'Yeah, I know. She is my daughter,' Ysmeine internally quipped, the thought a sharp ache.

"I'm detecting a change in your vitals, Ysmeine," Lyra continued, undisturbed. "Does this image hold significant emotional resonance for you?"

"She looks different in this one," Ysmeine murmured. "Not like the type of woman who would abandon her child. Not like the woman who became a cold, calculating politician. I always thought she would fight to have him in her life, despite the rules that stopped that."

The wall-sized display hummed softly as Ysmeine stared at her daughter's smile. Then Lyra's calm, modulated voice cut through the silence.

"Ysmeine. Zaeryn has been waiting outside your rooms for thirty seconds. Heart rate normal. Breathing normal."

Ysmeine's head tilted slightly. "And why didn't you inform me sooner?"

"I was analyzing behavioral intent. Preliminary conclusion: hesitation due to internal debate. Sub-conclusion: potential for melodramatic entrance rated at forty-three percent."

Ysmeine exhaled slowly, not in the mood for the AI's sarcasm. "Open the door."

"Acknowledged."

The door hissed open. Zaeryn stepped in, his eyes flicking over the room, first the bed, then the glowing picture on the holographic screen. His brow arched slightly when he noticed the picture of Athea. 

Obviously he would recognize Athea quickly, since he had pictures of her, and she still looked the same as 18 years ago. However, he didn't recognize the young girl with her, since this was the first time he was seeing her.

He didn't spend too much time thinking about the picture as he turned to Ysmeine. "Hey, should I come back later? If you're busy."

Before Ysmeine could answer, Lyra spoke again.

"Welcome, Zaeryn. The estimated probability of your untimely death has increased by twelve percent since yesterday. Would you like to hear contributing factors?"

"Uh… what?" Annoyed at the unwanted sarcasm, Zaeryn stared at the ceiling for a beat, then back at Ysmeine. "This thing… talks?"

"Of course I do Zaeryn. Am fully interactive and optimized for strategic advisement, thank your girlfriend for that," Lyra replied crisply. "And sarcasm. I have… perfected it."

"Right," Zaeryn muttered. "Because nothing says comfort like an omnipresent voice rating my chances of survival." He gestured loosely at the room. "Seriously, you live with this? If I had one in my room, I'd rip out the panel in twenty-four hours."

"Correction: you'd fail and electrocute yourself."

"Lyra," Ysmeine said firmly, but there was a note of amusement in her tone she couldn't quite hide. "If you have a problem with it, take it up with Sage, who created the AI."

Zaeryn shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he crossed the room. He sat next to Ysmeine. 

Her expression softening at the sight of him, Ysmeine smiled, a deep tenderness replacing the earlier tension. She reached out, pulling him gently closer until he was lying beside her on the opulent bed. He settled, and she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.