Chapter 9: Dam—Mira Got Some Bad Itches

The next day came sooner than Mike expected. Dawn’s light slipped through the window frame, spilling across the futon. The first ray struck his eyelids, and his body reacted on its own—groaning, shifting, the natural habit of waking when sunlight touched the eyes.

He stirred, lids parting sluggishly against the sharp brightness.

Ugh ... is it noon already? The thought dragged across his mind, thick with fatigue. His brow furrowed as he let out another groan. Time for the office again?

The weight of routine pressed down on him more than the futon did. Years of dragging himself out of bed at the same hour had carved reflexes into his bones. Even here, in a place far from that world, the habit still clung.

His hand lifted, sluggish and heavy, falling against the side of the bedframe—searching for the familiar emptiness he always expected to find.

But what his fingers brushed against wasn’t empty air beyond the bedframe—it was the hard surface of the floor.

Mike shifted, rolling sideways, his lids cracking open halfway.

Huh? This doesn’t feel right ... he grunted, forcing his eyes open wider.

And then it hit him.

The sight before him wasn’t his cramped apartment room. A wooden floor stretched beneath him, rough and uneven, with bare walls of the same texture enclosing the space. Clothes lay neatly folded to one side, and a lone mirror stood propped in front of him. Nothing else. No desk. No fan. No buzzing alarm clock.

His breath caught, a chill racing up his spine.

Wait. Wait ... this isn’t right. Wasn’t I in the off—

The thought barely formed before a sharper realization came crashing down.

He stared down at his hands—slowly uncurling them, clenching into fists, and letting them fall open again. As his vision steadied, so did the memories—flooding back in hazy flashes. The night before. This new body.

And most of all—the woman.

His step-aunt. Naked beneath him. Her warmth. Her moans. Her scent still lingered faintly on his skin.

Mike gulped. So ... it was real?

The thought hit like a hammer. A new world. A woman he could call aunt—yet had taken him without hesitation. A house with no one else inside—just the two of them.

Shock still painted his expression, but beneath it, something else brewed. Relief.

No more morning alarms. No more office cubicles, no more cold lunches eaten under white lights, no more late-night beers numbing his burnout.