Everything looked gray and lifeless, like the world itself was sick.
Viktor walked down the muddy path from the manor, his boots squelching with each step. Helena followed close behind, her eyes scanning the village ahead with growing unease.
"Young master, perhaps we should return and prepare better," she said quietly.
Viktor didn't answer.
His gaze was fixed on what used to be Millbrook village—a sprawling expanse of forty, maybe fifty huts scattered across dead fields that stretched for miles into distant regions, existing as isolated pockets around separate patches of land with their own varying fertility, wells, and whatever resources the harsh terrain allowed, rather than unified in a single place.
Here in the early portion, barely five or six houses huddled loosely near what passed for a center, while the others lay miles away.
Half the roofs had collapsed inward, mud walls cracked like dried riverbeds, thatch rotting in clumps.
The smell hit them before they even reached the center—smoke, unwashed bodies, damp rot mixing with something worse. Desperation had its own stink.
No children played in the dirt paths. No laughter echoed between houses. Doors stayed shut tight, and the windows that weren't boarded up had curtains that snapped closed the moment Viktor's shadow passed.
He noticed the dried well in the village center first. The stone was cracked, bucket nowhere in sight.
Two sickly cows stood nearby, ribs showing through their hides like prison bars. A few chickens pecked at dirt that had nothing to give.
'So this is my domain now,' Viktor thought, his face blank. 'A graveyard pretending to be a village.'
He remembered these people from his past life—some of them, anyway. They'd died protecting the kingdom when everything went to hell. Fought alongside him against impossible odds. Died for nothing in the end.
Now they feared him. Good. Fear meant distance. Distance meant he wouldn't have to care when the Empire came to burn it all down.
They passed the village center. A group of women at the well stopped talking mid-sentence, heads turning to stare. The whispers started immediately—harsh, judgmental sounds that carried in the morning air.
Children who'd been playing nearby froze like rabbits spotting a wolf.
Then one of them moved.
A boy, maybe eight or nine years old, stood apart from the others. His face was smudged with dirt, eyes vacant and unfocused. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling in a rhythm that had nothing to do with intention.
The boy's name was Toby, though Viktor didn't know that yet.
What Viktor did notice was the way Toby's pupils dilated unevenly. The slight tremor in his jaw. The blank stare that looked through Viktor rather than at him.
Toby bent down, picked up a stone, and threw it.
The rock hit Viktor's shoulder. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to sting. Enough to make a statement.
The village went silent.
Women gasped. The other children scattered like leaves in the wind. Even the chickens stopped pecking.
Viktor touched his shoulder where the stone had struck. His expression didn't change—no anger, no surprise. Just cold assessment.
'The boy's eyes aren't focused. Pupils dilated unevenly. Motor tics in his hands.' Viktor's mind cataloged the symptoms automatically. 'Possible toxin buildup in the nervous system. Or congenital defect.'
He looked at the boy calmly, tilting his head slightly.
That's when the door crashed open.
A woman ran out from a nearby hut, her body thick and heavy, hips straining against a worn brown dress that had seen too many washes. Her breasts sagged without proper support beneath the fabric, bouncing with each frantic step.
Calloused hands reached out, grabbing for the boy. Her face was smudged with ash, dark hair tied back in a messy knot, exhausted eyes wide with terror.
She dropped to her knees in the dirt, pulling Toby behind her back.
Her dress rode up slightly as she knelt, revealing thick calves and the curve of her ass pressing against the thin material.
"M-my lord!" Her voice shook, words tumbling out too fast. "Forgive him! Please, he's... he's not right in the head! He doesn't understand!"
Tears started streaming down her face, cutting clean lines through the ash smudges.
"Please don't punish him!" She bowed deeper, her body folding forward until her forehead nearly touched the ground.
The neckline of her dress gaped open, revealing the deep valley of her cleavage—heavy breasts pressed together, pale skin disappearing into shadow. "Take me instead! Beat me, tax me double, but spare my boy!"
Her ass lifted higher as she prostrated herself, the brown fabric stretching tight across thick cheeks, outlining the crack between them. The dress rode up her thighs, showing more skin.
'WHAT THE HELL WITH THIS DESCRITPION YOU ASSHOLE—!!?!', Viktor felt his full body burn with anger, hands clenching as he realized the whole description of an innocent mother trying to protect her child was screwed up.
He was literally focusing on objectively describing a woman?!
[ Note: You can close your eyes but this is system's passive ability to turn on host mood for future breeding in a place unsuitbale for love making. ]
'...Y-you fucker—' Viktor felt something definitely screwed in his eyes, not that he was lustful but this system which delayed arrival and now making him see everything from perverted vision suddenly seemed to put back puzzle pieces together.
He did see Helena as hot woman, but he thought it was just his increased libido by system making him a horny man but this?
Had he gotten breeding system instead of 100X rebate?!
Helena stepped forward, her hand moving instinctively toward Viktor's arm as she sensed him burning with visible rage, trembling as if who knows how much pissed he looked. "Young master—"
Viktor raised his hand, silencing her.
He came back to his usual calm, feeling that it was for his own good given in this dirty land, how was he going to even be aroused lest in vomits desire to have sex.
But he was in control of his actions at least.
The woman clutched Toby tighter. The boy was still twitching, a thin line of drool sliding down his chin.
"Stand up," Viktor said, his voice flat. "I'm not going to punish a child."
The woman's head jerked up, eyes wide with disbelief.
Around them, the villagers who'd been watching from windows and doorways exchanged confused glances.
Viktor walked closer. The woman flinched but didn't run. Up close, he could see the exhaustion carved into every line of her face. The way her shoulders trembled. The desperate hope fighting with terror in her eyes.
He knelt down to the boy's level.
It took effort—his chubby body wasn't made for this kind of movement, and he grunted slightly as his knees hit the dirt.
Toby's eyes tracked nothing. His hand tremors had worsened, probably from fear. Viktor saw a faint rash on the boy's neck, half-hidden by his dirty collar.
"How long has he been like this?" Viktor asked, not looking at the woman.
"S-since birth, my lord." Her voice was barely a whisper. "The midwife said... said he was cursed..."
"Not cursed. Ill." Viktor tilted Toby's chin gently, checking his pupils more closely. "Has any healer examined him?"
"We... we can't afford healers, my lord. They don't come to places like this." The woman's voice broke on the last word.
Viktor stood, dusting off his pants. "It's likely nerve damage. Could be from toxins during pregnancy, or birth trauma."
The woman's eyes widened. No one had ever explained it before. They'd just called her son cursed and left it at that.
"I might be able to help," Viktor continued. "I know herbs."
"Y-you... you'd help us?" The woman's voice cracked with disbelief. "But we have nothing to pay..."
"I didn't ask for payment." Viktor looked at her directly. "Let me examine him properly. Inside your home."
The whispers around them grew louder. Viktor could hear fragments—
"The fat lord is helping Mira's boy?"
"He didn't punish them... strange..."
"What's his game?"
The woman—Mira, apparently—stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Her mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Her hands trembled where they gripped Toby's shoulders.
'A noble offering help? For free?' Mira's thoughts raced. 'What's the trap? What does he want?'
But Toby had been getting worse. Seizures were coming more often. His moments of clarity getting shorter and shorter. If there was even a chance...
She looked at Viktor's face. Really looked. There was no cruelty there. No mockery. Just tired determination, like a man who'd already seen too much and couldn't muster the energy to pretend anymore.
"M-my home is... it's not fit for a lord," Mira stammered, slowly getting to her feet. Her dress had dirt stains on the knees now. "It's filthy, small..."
"I've seen worse," Viktor said. "Let's go."
Helena moved closer to Viktor, lowering her voice. "Young master, is this safe? We don't know these people..."
Viktor glanced at her. "You wanted to come. So come."
Helena bit her lip but nodded.
Mira picked up Toby, settling him on her hip. The movement made her dress tighten across her body—the curve of her ass visible from behind, the way her thick thighs pressed together. She gestured toward a hut at the edge of the village square.
"Please... this way, my lord."