The city's fog hadn't lifted when I stepped out of the shadows, my coat pulled tight against the biting chill. Greywatch was waking slowly, grimy streets filling with the usual parade of lost souls and schemers. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, deep and mournful, like a funeral for hope itself. Perfect. I liked mornings like this. The world still hadn't figured out who was about to break its rules.
I didn't rush toward the academy yet. No, first, I needed to check in on my little sanctuary—a cramped, forgotten townhouse nestled in one of Greywatch's quieter alleys. It was the kind of place people passed by without a second glance, which was exactly what I wanted. My base of operations, where my... special collection waited.
The door creaked open before I could knock, revealing Roderick. Or rather, what Roderick had become.
Gone was the hulking brute I'd transformed last week. In his place stood a slim, elegant figure with sharp cheekbones, short silver hair that caught the dim light, and eyes that sparkled with something mischievous. He was dressed in a loose, silk shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal slender wrists adorned with delicate chains—an ironic nod to his former roughness.
"Cecil," he purred, a smile playing on his lips as he stepped aside. "Right on time. We were just getting bored."
Behind him, the other femboys lounged lazily in the room's scant light. Each had a story, a personality carefully preserved beneath layers of silk and charm.
There was Miko, the quiet one, his dark hair falling over his pale face like a curtain hiding secrets. His sharp green eyes studied me cautiously from a tattered armchair.
Then Elian, the eternal flirt, draped across the couch with a devilish grin and chestnut curls that seemed to have a life of their own. "Hey, boss," he drawled, "ready to make some magic?"
And finally, Jules—short, with wild blue hair and an infectious laugh that could fill the whole house. He was the wildcard, unpredictable but fiercely loyal.
I crossed the room slowly, letting the familiar sight of my 'collection' settle in. These were not just trophies; they were my shield and my sword. I had only turned those who deserved it—those who spat on me, shoved me into the gutters, or looked at me like I was nothing.
This wasn't some weird hobby. It was justice with a twist—and damn, it was satisfying.
Roderick leaned against the wall, eyes narrowing. "You're heading to the academy again, aren't you?"
I nodded. "Need to keep the illusion alive. The Council's eyes are sharper than ever. I have to be careful."
Elian chuckled, "More like you're itching for another fight."
I smirked. "Maybe. But remember, I only make moves when provoked."
Miko's voice was soft but firm. "And what if you're provoked by the wrong person?"
"Then they'll learn my definition of 'wrong,'" I said with a grin. "No one gets turned unless they deserve it. No random puppets in this game."
Jules clapped his hands with a mischievous glint. "So the perfect little justice league, huh? All femboy, all fabulous."
We spent the morning going over plans. Roderick, surprisingly strategic for his former brute self, handled logistics. Elian kept spirits high with his endless teasing and distractions. Miko tracked information from the city's underground networks, his quiet demeanor hiding a razor-sharp mind. Jules, well, Jules was the muscle and the mischief-maker, always ready for a brawl or a prank.
I took notes, planning my next moves carefully. The academy wasn't just a school; it was a battlefield disguised in silk and stone. If I wanted to build my nation of femboys, I needed allies—and the right targets.
Later, I found myself staring at the feathered pen, twirling it between my fingers. It wasn't just a tool—it was a symbol of control, of transformation, of revenge. The moment the ink touched skin, everything changed. The broken became beautiful. The cruel became loyal. The indifferent became devoted.
I remembered the first time I used it—the rush, the delicious power of watching someone unravel, piece by piece, into something new. That feeling never got old.
And neither would the academy.
The day moved slow, but my mind raced. I wasn't just playing for survival—I was building an empire. Every marked soul was a step closer to a new world, one where I ruled in shadows and silk.
Roderick caught my eye and raised an eyebrow. "Ready for tonight?"
I smiled thinly. "Always. But remember—only those who cross me get the honor."
Elian winked. "And here I thought you just liked collecting pretty boys."
"Don't flatter me," I said, tapping the pen. "This is war."
The quiet before the storm had settled—and soon, everything would change.