A few minutes later, the woman emerged from a side room, a rag in hand. “You know, you just cost your mother a lot of Cora fruits,” she said, before turning and crouching to clean a spill from the floorboards. Cora fruits? The name meant nothing to me, and my confusion must have shown on my face. “Ah, the Scorch period is brutal this year.” The woman’s murmur was barely audible, but it reached my ears and only deepened my confusion. Before I could even begin to process my questions, what she did next shattered my train of thought completely. I could only stare as the woman nonchalantly worked the tight tube top from her torso and draped it around her neck. Her full, heavy breasts were suddenly free, the bare skin a startling sight. Even her nipples, larger than I’d imagined, were only partially concealed by the fabric now hanging like a scarf. My eyes widened. A hot rush went through me, and I felt myself stirring. What kind of world is this? I thought, a slow heat coiling in my gut as I hardened. My gaze was drawn to her thighs as she worked them free from their wrap, offering a flash of smooth inner thigh that made my mouth go dry. This is insane, I thought. Her large breasts swayed with the movement before settling. “Phew,” she muttered in relief. She stood and used the cloth hanging from her neck to wipe the sweat from her torso, not hesitating to dab away the moisture beading on and between her breasts. When she was done, she simply wriggled the tube top back into place. I watched the entire scene in utter disbelief. I had no idea if this was normal behavior in this world, but as long as it kept happening, I couldn't bring myself to care. A sharp, persistent knock echoed from the front door like a drumbeat. The woman—I still didn’t know her name—shouted, “I’m coming!” as she moved to unlatch it. The door swung open, and a woman who was just as stunning as the first sauntered into the room. Her clothes and bearing left me speechless. So that’s her name, I thought, watching the scene unfold. “Don’t worry, Mara,” Kyra reassured her friend, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “Your son is safe and sound.” Mara nodded, taking a deep breath before slipping back outside. She returned a moment later carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth. “I hope this is enough Cora,” she said, her hands fumbling with the knot. She untied it, revealing a small pile of fruit. Kyra’s gaze flickered from the fruit back to Mara. “This isn’t enough, and you know it,” she sighed. “Yes, I know. I promise I’ll pay you the rest as soon as I can gather more Cora,” Mara pleaded, clasping her hands together in desperation. “Are you asking me for credit?” Kyra’s voice turned cold, her brow furrowing as she stared at her long-time friend. Mara flinched. Taking a loan on credit was something she had never imagined doing, but desperation was a powerful motivator. “Please, Kyra, I’m begging you,” she cried, tears beginning to stream down her face. “He’s my only son. I’ll do anything, I swear…” She dropped to her knees, her voice breaking. “I’ll work off the debt, pay you back with interest… just please, help m—” “Shh.” Kyra’s hand gently covered her friend’s mouth, a soft smile on her face. “Don’t worry, I’ve already healed him. What kind of friend would I be if I let your son die over something as trivial as Cora?” Mara’s eyes widened with dawning hope. “You mean…” “Yes, I healed him already,” Kyra replied. She stepped aside, revealing me lying on the cot, wide awake and having heard every word. Mara stared at her son in disbelief, then whipped her head back to Kyra. She launched herself at her friend, hugging her so tightly that they both tumbled to the floor in a heap. “Ouch! Are you trying to injure me, too?” Kyra exclaimed, wincing from the impact. “I’m sorry!” Mara scrambled to her feet, wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay,” Kyra said, shaking her head with a smile. “But you still need to bring me the rest of that Cora.” “Of course,” Mara nodded, her expression firm. “I’ll do my best to bring you the rest.” “Alright, you can go see him now,” Kyra said, gesturing toward me. Mara nodded and walked over, her hands clenched into tight fists as she took in my injured state. I watched nervously as the beautiful, voluptuous woman approached. She had sharp, defined features that contrasted with the softness of her body. Like Kyra, she wore a simple cloth wrapped around her waist, but her top was even more revealing: a loose garment that looked like little more than two pouches of cloth stitched together, with a long slit running from her cleavage down to just above her navel. Her breasts were even larger than Kyra’s, so prominent that as she leaned over me, her ample chest completely blocked my view of her face. I gulped. “You!” I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for a slap. Instead, a gentle hand cupped my cheek, its touch surprisingly soft. “You had your mother so worried,” she said. I opened my eyes to see her own were filled with tears. This was my mother in this new world. I wonder what the idiot who owned this body did to get himself killed, I thought, trying to focus on my mother’s face. It was a losing battle. My gaze kept slipping down to the swell of her underboob, bouncing gently with every small movement. I fought to drag my eyes away. But then again, if people here had no problem dressing so freely, then surely there was no harm in looking. I swallowed hard as my eyes landed on a glimpse of a cherry-colored nipple, and I felt that familiar stirring in my loins once again.

Chapter 2: This Brutal Season