The misfortune Jade had warned me about—it was already snowballing, and fast.


    I glanced at Jade, her silver eyes betraying a glimmer of something between amusement and, annoyingly, I told you so.


    "Hey you, stop right there!"


    Suddenly shouts erupted from across the road. I glanced and saw the lottery guy had brought backup - two goons who looked like they bench-pressed cars for fun. One was wearing a leather jacket despite the humid evening, and the other had tattoos crawling up his neck like angry vines.


    Ugh! Not right now, I groaned inwardly. Being unarmed wasn''t the real problem; we just needed to escape.


    Fortunately, a bus screeched to a stop at the nearby terminal just as the traffic light flashed red. I grabbed Jade''s hand and dashed forward like we were trying to beat a pizza delivery guarantee, our feet pounding against the pavement in synchronized desperation.


    We barely made it onto the bus before I slammed face-first into what felt like a brick wall. No, not a wall—a person. A massive person who grunted in annoyance. I looked up - and up - into the face of a man whose forearms were bigger and thicker than my entire future. A faded military tattoo peeked out from under his rolled-up sleeve. I winced, glancing out the window. The goons were still shouting and swearing on the curb, unable to reach us in time.


    "I really like your power, don''t make me fish you out of your delusions," I muttered under my breath, tasting copper.


    Good, I thought, but before I could catch my breath, a massive hand grabbed my head, fingers tangling painfully in my hair, yanking it up. I found myself staring into coal-black eyes that promised violence. Behind me, someone''s coffee spilled, the liquid seeping into my shoes. A baby started crying somewhere in the back. However, my gaze was fixated on the man who had just grabbed my head with his thick hands. The man was built like an industrial furnace, and to my amazement, his skin began to radiate heat. White vapor wisped from his pores, turning the air around him into a miniature sauna. The acrid smell of his sweat filled the cramped bus space, making nearby passengers gag and cover their noses.


    "Watch where you''re going," he growled, his voice sounded like rocks in a garbage disposal. His breath smelled like cigarettes and something worse.


    I tried to reply, but the words got stuck somewhere in the noise and smell.


    What a freak of man, I thought in astonishment. The scientist in me wanted to ask him questions about his metabolism rate, but my curiosity was cut short as the bus lurched forward around a corner. I lost my balance, stumbling toward the back.


    The steam engine of a man charged after me, moving with surprising agility for someone his size. Passengers scrambled to get out of his way, pressing themselves against windows and diving into seats. A woman clutched her handbag to her chest, eyes wide with fear. Someone''s takeout container hit the floor, noodles spilling everywhere. My back slammed against a metal pole, sending shockwaves of pain through my right arm. The pole felt ice-cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the waves of heat rolling off my attacker. I struggled to steady myself, my sweaty hands slipping on the seats.


    “Hey, big guy,” I said, raising my hands in what I hoped was a calming gesture. “We don’t need to fight so hard. Let’s just—”


    Before I could finish, he swung a fist the size of a cinderblock at me. I ducked, the force of the blow rattling the pole I’d been holding onto.


    “Or not,” I muttered, scrambling toward the back of the bus.


    I barely managed to crack open an eye when his fist connected with my jaw. The impact hit like a freight train, sending stars dancing across my vision as blood sprayed from my nose and mouth. My head snapped to the side, and for a moment, the world was a blur of pain and ringing ears.


    Through the haze, I caught a flicker of movement—Jade. She was lowering into a stance, her body tensed and ready to spring into action. Her silver eyes burned with intent, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for the guy.


    Almost.


    I managed to lift a trembling hand, signaling her to stay back. This wasn’t her fight.


    “Fuck you!” I roared, the words tearing from my throat as I staggered to my feet.


    Adrenaline surged through me, flooding my system like a broken dam. My vision sharpened, colors becoming vivid, and time seemed to slow. With everything I had, I swung my fist into the back of the steam man’s head. It connected with a solid thud, but the effect was… less than impressive. It felt like punching a car engine at full speed.


    Big mistake.


    Pain shot through my hand like an electric shock, the bones in my fingers screaming in protest. I clutched my throbbing hand, biting back a curse as I realized my punch had done more damage to me than to him.


    The giant slowly turned, his expression twisting into one of pure rage. His body hissed and steamed like a kettle at full boil, angry jets of vapor shooting out of his pores and fogging up the bus windows. His eyes locked onto me, and I knew I’d just painted a massive target on my back. With a roar that shook the bus, he charged like an enraged bull, his sheer bulk making the floor tremble beneath him. The terrified passengers scattered, diving into seats and pressing themselves against windows. Some screamed; others looked like they were praying for a miracle.


    Could I beat him? Not a chance. Not even in the wildest fever dream my imagination could conjure. This wasn’t a fight I could win with brute strength. I needed to think fast.


    The bus was cramped, the aisles narrow and littered with obstacles—poles, seats, and panicked passengers. His tank-like build was both his strength and his weakness. He had raw power, sure, but that massive frame couldn’t move with precision in this confined space.


    The gears in my head started turning. He couldn’t swing at full force without hitting something—or someone—besides me. And if he seriously injured a passenger, he’d have a bigger mess on his hands than just our fight. Not that he seemed to care. Judging by the murderous gleam in his eyes and the literal steam rolling off his shoulders, consequences weren’t exactly at the top of his priority list.


    “Alright, big guy,” I muttered, backing further down the aisle. “Let’s dance.”


    I just needed to survive until the next stop. Three minutes. Maybe four. Not long at all, I told myself, though the heat in the bus and the ache in my chest made those minutes feel like an eternity. I shifted my weight, cradling my damaged hand close to my chest, and prepared to outmaneuver the human steam engine barreling toward me. The cramped confines of the bus worked to my advantage. With no room for his full brute force, I used my thin frame and speed to keep him chasing shadows. I vaulted over seats, sliding beneath his massive arms when he lunged at me. His frustration grew with every miss, his growls turning into guttural roars that echoed off the walls.


    Desperation fueling me, I saw an opening and spun behind him. Without thinking, I delivered a sharp kick aimed squarely at his nuts—a move that had ended more fights than I cared to count.


    It was like kicking a steel beam.


    He didn’t even flinch.


    Before I could process the failure or curse the laws of physics, his massive fist swung like a wrecking ball, slamming into my chest. The impact sent me hurtling down the aisle toward the front door. My body hit the floor with a bone-rattling thud, and the breath left my lungs in a desperate gasp.


    The pain was blinding, but the sound of heavy footsteps approaching forced me to snap back to reality. The steam man stood at the ready, his muscles bulging and flexing, thick white vapor spiraling around him like an industrial pressure cooker about to explode. The air in the bus was suffocatingly hot, the windows fogging as if the bus had been dropped into the heart of a volcano.


    Just a few more minutes… Just a few more minutes! I screamed inwardly, barely clinging to consciousness as I staggered to my feet.


    “Driver, stop the fucking bus!” I yelled hoarsely, though my voice was almost lost in the cacophony of screams and the roar of the steam man’s fury.


    I wasn’t sure if the driver could even hear me—or if he had decided this was well above his pay grade. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I lunged forward again. If I stayed down, I was dead. I had to keep moving. Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I launched myself at the steam man’s face, my fists becoming a desperate blur. I aimed for whatever I could reach—his nose, his eyes, his temples—anything that might slow him down.


    To my surprise, the savage barrage seemed to catch him off guard. His massive frame wavered, his balance tipping precariously.


    “Down you go!” I shouted, putting my whole weight behind a final punch to his temple.


    With a deafening crash, he stumbled backward, his body slamming into the floor. The entire bus shook from the impact.


    His screams of rage echoed through the bus cabin, raw and unrestrained, but I saw him for what he really was—a pitiful man consumed by power he couldn’t control. His meta abilities had amplified his anger, transforming it into something monstrous and chaotic. But beneath all that steam and fury, he was still just a man.


    I straddled his chest, trading blows with him—his meaty fists swung wildly, while my strikes aimed for precision, targeting the vulnerable points he couldn’t shield with brute force. My knuckles screamed in protest with every punch, but I didn’t stop.


    I could have ended it right then, without him even having the chance to touch me.


    All it would’ve taken was one use of my intangibility. A single, calculated move—phasing my hand through his chest and stopping his heart. It would’ve been so easy.


    But I wasn’t a killer.


    No matter how much again he’d toward me, no matter how deep the bruises or how much my ribs ached, I wasn’t bloodthirsty. And truthfully, I didn’t feel truly threatened. Not enough to justify taking his life.


    The bus jerked to a sudden stop, the inertia throwing us both slightly off balance. I didn’t hesitate. This was my chance.


    I scrambled to my feet, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I grabbed Jade’s hand. “Let’s go!”


    Together, we bolted out the door, leaving the steaming man sprawled on the floor, angrier than ever.


    As we sprinted down the street, I glanced back briefly. The bus remained at the stop, unmoving, the driver likely too stunned—or too terrified—to keep going. I could only hope he was on the phone with the police.


    But then my worst fear materialized.


    The bus doors hissed open with a loud, taunting sound, and the steaming man leapt out, his rage hotter and more volatile than ever. Steam poured off his body in angry waves, distorting the air around him as he fixed his burning gaze on us.


    “Run!” I shook my head and shouted, tightening my grip on Jade’s hand as we took off again, weaving through the crowded streets with everything we had.


    The city became a blur—a dizzying labyrinth of alleys, storefronts, and endless corners. Jade matched my pace effortlessly, darting through the narrow spaces with practiced ease.


    The steaming man roared behind us, his massive frame crashing through whatever obstacles stood in his way. Trash cans clattered to the ground, bystanders shouted in confusion, and I even heard the unmistakable crunch of metal as he clipped a parked car. But his size worked against him. For all his raw power, he wasn’t built for speed.


    We turned another corner, slipping into a crowded marketplace. The stalls and bustling crowd provided just enough cover to throw him off. I glanced back again, my heart pounding as I scanned the street. He was gone.


    I exhaled sharply, the adrenaline that had kept me upright now draining from my system. My legs wobbled, every step sending fresh waves of pain through my battered body.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Jade’s brow furrowed, her expression tense. There was something in her silver eyes that wasn’t there before: belief. She seemed to believe in me, even in this beaten state. And that thought brought a strange, unexpected comfort. Seeing her worry was oddly satisfying in a way I didn’t fully understand.


    “You’re a mess,” she muttered.


    “You think?” I rasped, wincing as another sharp pain radiated from my ribs.


    “Try not to die before we get somewhere safe,” she added, her voice tinged with dry humor.


    I managed a weak laugh, though it hurt. “I’ll do my best.”


    We ducked into an alley, finding a quiet spot away from the chaos. I slumped against the cool brick wall, sucking in shallow breaths as I tried to process what had just happened.


    Jade crouched beside me, her silver eyes scanning the street. “I think we lost him,” she said, her voice calm but cautious.


    “For now,” I muttered, wiping the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand.


    She glanced at me, her gaze softening ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t have fought him alone.”


    (? ?>? ▽ ?<? ?)


    As we walked, I instinctively glanced upward. Above me, a towering tree loomed, its green leaves drifting in a pink gust of wind. A small owl perched silently on one of its branches, watching. On the ground below, a snake slithered slowly across the path. It was my Likeness.


    “How much longer will this misfortune last?” I asked, my voice hoarse.


    Jade''s silver eyes caught what little light remained, turning them to liquid mercury. "A couple of minutes to a few hours."


    I groaned inwardly but nodded. It was the answer I expected, though not the one I wanted.


    Looking ahead, the darkness seemed to stretch endlessly. If we hadn’t started running the moment we got off the bus, the goons would have caught us for sure. Jade’s interference had helped; any pictures or videos, be in the convenience store or the bus''s cameras, might have taken were likely scrambled beyond recognition. But there were countless other ways to track someone down, and I knew this wasn’t over.


    Those were problems for later, though. Right now, all I wanted was to collapse onto my bed and let the ache in my body fade. Whatever came next could wait until morning.


    “Should I call an ambulance?” Jade asked suddenly, her voice tinged with worry.


    “No need,” I replied quickly, shaking my head. The thought of explaining all this to paramedics—or worse, the authorities—was more than I could handle right now. “I’ll be fine. Just… need to rest.”


    She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue, either.


    However, our path to safety proved to be anything but straight. A construction site''s fence suddenly collapsed as we passed, forcing us to sprint despite my injuries. We ducked into an alley, only to disturb a nest of rats that scattered in all directions, causing Jade to stumble. My broken hand slammed against a wall, sending fresh waves of agony through my arm.


    At one point, a pack of wild dogs appeared out of nowhere, barking and snarling as they charged toward us. My first instinct was to protect Jade, but she handled the situation with a calm efficiency that put me to shame. With a wave of her hand and a sharp glare, the dogs skidded to a stop, their aggression evaporating into confused whines before they slunk away into the shadows.


    Even so, I felt a pang of guilt. My choices had dragged her into this chaos, forcing her to deal with the fallout of my misfortune.


    As we climbed the steps to the station platform, I finally broke the silence. “Sorry,” I said quietly, not looking at her.


    “For what?” she asked, her tone light but curious.


    “For… all of this,” I admitted, gesturing vaguely to my bruised and battered state, the looming misfortune, and the general mess we were in. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my crap.”


    Jade stopped walking, her hand tightening slightly on my arm to steady me as I swayed. “I chose to be here,” she said simply, her silver eyes locking onto mine. “You didn’t force me into anything.”


    Then and there as if universe sensed my happiness, a delivery bike swerved onto the sidewalk, nearly clipping me. The sprinklers of a nearby building suddenly activated, drenching us yet again. Even the streetlights above us flickered and died as we passed beneath them, as if my misfortune was consuming electricity itself.


    By the time we reached Jade’s house, I was practically dragging myself through the door. The moment my eyes landed on her sofa, I gave up on maintaining any semblance of dignity and collapsed onto it. The soft mattress cradled my aching muscles like a long-lost lover, and I groaned in relief.


    Jade returned moments later, holding a small vial of serum in her hand. She held it out to me, her expression calm but her silver eyes serious.


    I sat up slowly, eyeing the vial with hesitation. I knew exactly what it was.


    “You should take it,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.


    “I know,” I muttered.


    I hesitated, staring at the vial in my hand. The serum would heal my wounds, but at a cost—a steep one. My body would operate at full strength for approximately thirty minutes, and then it would shut down completely, leaving me immobile for anywhere between eight to twenty-four hours. It wasn’t the kind of side effect you ignored.


    Still, I uncorked it and drank. The serum burned on the way down, its molten heat spreading through my veins like wildfire. I clenched my fists as the sensation surged through me, suppressing the pain, restoring my strength. It was overwhelming but effective. Within moments, the aches and bruises that had plagued me were gone, replaced by a feeling of invincibility.


    For the first time in hours, I felt whole again. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, testing my strength.


    “I’m fine,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.


    “Don’t move.” Jade’s voice stopped me in my tracks. And before I could protest, she stepped forward and pushed me back onto the sofa with surprising strength.


    “You need to rest,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.


    “It’s fine,” I insisted weakly, though my body was too tired to back up the claim. “I can leave now.”


    She raised an eyebrow, “It’s not like you’ve never stayed here before,” she countered. Her voice was calm, measured, but there was a quiet authority behind it that made it impossible to argue. “You can leave tomorrow.”


    The way she said it— her voice commanding authority, part caring – it kinda felt good. How strange?


    I sighed, giving in. Jade was right, as usual. There was no point pushing myself further.


    Besides, the bed in her guest room was far too comfortable, and my body was too tired to argue. I sighed, knowing soon I wouldn’t be able to move at all.


    “Let me clean myself,” I said, and only then did Jade allow me to get up.


    The serum’s side effects kicked in soon after, a familiar heaviness spreading through my limbs. My body grew heavier by the second until I could barely twitch a finger. Within moments, I was paralyzed, able to move only my eyes and manage the faintest twitch of my mouth. It was always unnerving, this forced stillness, but at least I was prepared for it. Or so I thought.


    Five minutes later, the mattress dipped beside me.


    I blinked, my eyes darting toward Jade as she climbed onto the bed.


    “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice faint but tinged with curiosity. She settled herself on the other side with all the casual grace in the world, holding a bowl of salad in one hand.


    “Eating,” she said simply.


    Her hair was freshly washed, wrapped in a towel, and she wore a long white t-shirt that slouched off one shoulder, paired with her fluffy pajamas. She looked completely at ease, cross-legged on the bed, and entirely unconcerned about the fact that I was lying there, immobile and at her mercy.


    I tried not to stare, but she was directly within my line of sight. Whether intentional or not, every movement—every slight shift of her shoulder blades, the way the loose fabric of her shirt dipped—caught my attention. My mind betrayed me with a single thought: Pretty.


    “Do you want some?” she asked, tilting her head as she looked directly at me. A small piece of lettuce balanced delicately on her fork.


    I blinked slowly. Do I look like I can eat right now? I thought dryly, though my voice wouldn’t cooperate enough to respond.


    “Didn’t think so,” she said with a small shrug, popping the lettuce into her mouth.


    After finishing her food, she climbed off the bed, carrying her empty bowl out of the room. I sighed in relief, thinking I’d finally get some peace, the tension that had built up in my chest beginning to ease.


    But of course, Jade wasn’t done with me yet.


    Not long after, the mattress dipped again as she climbed back into bed, settling herself beside me with a kind of casual grace that made my pulse quicken despite my inability to move.


    This time, she was closer. Much closer.


    “What are you doing here?” I asked again, my voice trembling slightly—not from fear, but from something else entirely. Uncertainty. Anticipation. I couldn’t quite name it. The paralysis left me vulnerable in a way I’d never been around her before, and the proximity wasn’t helping.


    Jade tilted her head, her eyes glinting in the dim light as she regarded me with a small, unreadable smile.


    “It’s my house,” she said nonchalantly, as if that explained everything. “I can sleep wherever I want.”


    Then she tilted her head, a smile playing across her lips that was far too innocent to be trusted. "Today, I want to sleep here."


    So shameless. My eyes widened, my mouth going slack with disbelief. I felt like a lamb being sized up by a wolf—albeit a very beautiful, silver-eyed wolf draped in loose pajamas. My heart pounded as I tried, and failed, to process what was happening. Before I could even muster a coherent thought, she pulled the blanket over both of us. The soft fabric settled around us like a cocoon, sealing me into a moment that felt both impossibly surreal and inescapably real. I shivered—not from the cold, but from the electric charge of her proximity.


    Her intentions seemed far from innocent, and I was quite literally powerless to do anything about it.


    Lord, forgive her for the sins she’s about to commit... I squeezed my eyes shut, sending up a silent prayer, hoping that whatever was about to happen, I’d at least survive with a shred of dignity.


    And then it happened—a cold, sudden touch against my cheek. My eyes flew open, startled, to find her finger resting gently against my skin.


    She studied my face with an intensity that sent another shiver through me, her head tilted slightly like a scientist examining a particularly fascinating specimen. Her, now dry, hair framed her face beautifully.


    “What?” I managed to croak, my voice barely above a whisper.


    “It’s softer than I thought,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone calm, as if she were testing a hypothesis.


    I blinked, utterly speechless. Her thoughts were as unpredictable as her actions, and I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered, confused, or terrified.


    She didn’t seem to notice—or care—about my inner turmoil. Instead, she propped herself up on one elbow, her silver eyes studying me with an unreadable expression.


    “You know,” she said thoughtfully, her voice soft and almost contemplative, “I like your smile.”


    A small smile curved at the corners of her mouth, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt. No one had ever told me that before. The feeling was magical, almost disorienting. I didn’t think I’d ever glance at another woman again. How could I, when this moment eclipsed everything else? Her words caused the paralysis to spread to my throat, leaving me with just enough movement to breathe.


    Then she added, "You’re fun to mess with,” breaking the tension with a playful tone that felt like a lifeline.


    The spell shattered, and I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Glad I could entertain you,” I muttered, rolling my eyes inwardly.


    "Does it hurt?" she asked, her voice soft but steady, laced with genuine concern.


    I was about to shake my head, but the touch of her hand stopped me. Somehow, it had slipped under my sweatshirt, her cool fingers resting just above my chest, exactly where the steam man’s punch had landed earlier.


    My breath caught. It wasn’t just the unexpected contact—it was the tenderness of it, the way her touch seemed to radiate warmth despite her fingers being cold.


    I managed the slightest shake of my head, though the motion made my ribs protest faintly. “Not anymore,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.


    "Good," she whispered, settling back down beside me.


    Close enough that I could feel her breath on my neck, each exhale sending tiny shivers across my skin that my paralyzed body couldn''t express. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, tilting me infinitesimally toward her.


    The silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft whisper of our breathing.


    Then, with a gentleness that took me entirely off guard, Jade shifted closer. Her body moved deliberately, her head nestling into the space between my shoulder and neck as though it had been carved there just for her.


    “Is this okay?” she whispered, her breath tickling my skin.


    Even if I’d wanted to object, the paralysis left me with no real choice in the matter. But strangely, I didn’t mind.


    Her arm draped tentatively across my chest, so light at first I barely felt it. When I didn’t—couldn’t—protest, she let it settle with more confidence. The weight of it, soft and reassuring, grounded me in a way I hadn’t known I needed. Her hair spread across my shoulder like spilled ink.


    “Your heart’s racing,” she observed, her palm flattening against my chest.


    Of course it is.


    I might have been paralyzed, but my heart hadn’t gotten the memo. It pounded against my ribs, betraying every thought I couldn’t voice, every feeling I didn’t quite understand.


    She shifted, slowly her legs intertwining with mine under the blanket. The casual intimacy of it stole what little breath I had left. Her toes brushed against my ankle occasionally. Here I was, completely at her mercy, and she chose to simply… cuddle.


    “You’re warm,” she murmured, her voice growing heavier with sleep. Her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of the borrowed shirt I was wearing—her shirt, technically. “Usually you’re like ice.”


    I wanted to tell her it was her doing, that she was the one making my temperature rise, but my voice seemed to have abandoned me entirely. Instead, I lay there, drinking in every detail of this moment: the way her breathing gradually slowed, how her body fit against mine like a missing puzzle piece, the occasional subtle movement as she made herself more comfortable.


    Was it wrong to want to hug her back?


    The thought lingered, bittersweet and unanswered.


    As sleep began to tug at the edges of my consciousness, I felt it—soft and fleeting, like a brush of butterfly wings. Her lips touched my neck. If I could have moved, I would have shivered. Her mumbled words were too soft to catch, lost in the quiet darkness of the room. Her breathing slowed, soft and steady against my skin, and I felt myself relax despite everything. Her hand rested possessively over my heart, the pressure light but steady, as though she were anchoring me in place. Every so often, her fingers would twitch, little unconscious movements that somehow felt deliberate. She nuzzled closer, her body molding against mine like it had always belonged there. More mumbled words followed, secrets shared with my skin that I couldn’t quite catch. The innocence of it all—the way she moved, the softness of her breath against my neck—made the moment feel more intimate than any kiss I’d ever known.


    Maybe it was her calm that was rubbing off on me, or maybe it was just sheer exhaustion catching up.


    Whatever it was, I didn’t fight it. I just lay there, letting the moment settle around us like a blanket. For the first time all day, the chaos and pain felt far away, and all that remained was her.


    And, somehow, that was enough.


    "Stay..." she whispered again, so softly I almost thought I''d imagined it.


    Was she dreaming? Or was some part of her still awake enough to voice what she wanted?


    As sleep finally began to claim me, one last coherent thought drifted through my mind: of all the ways this chaotic day could have ended, becoming Jade''s personal teddy bear hadn''t even made the list. From running out of luck to fighting a human furnace on a bus, to ending up paralyzed in her bed—life had a strange way of working out.


    Perhaps being paralyzed wasn''t the worst thing that could happen to a person, especially not when it led to moments like this.


    What made it even better? I was finally rich.