A/N: Sorry about the monologue in advance but it's very impoartnt to not mistake his actions when he acts!
****
Another notification bloomed in the swirling steam, bright and unapologetic.
[Congratulations, Host, on claiming your Sixth woman!]
Well.
Well, well, well.
Phei cleared his throat—the sound rough, gravelly in the enclosed glass box. The familiar warm, electric rush slammed into him square in the chest—that addictive, filthy satisfaction the system always delivered with every milestone, every conquest, every time it leaned in close and whispered: You're exactly where I want you. Keep going.
It sank deep, settling like a second heartbeat right behind his ribs, pulsing in time with the water.
And yeah.
It felt fucking good.
He wasn't going to pretend otherwise—not even to himself.
Yesterday he'd claimed his sixth woman.
The sixth woman he'd ever fucked.
Melissa. Sierra. Maddie. Valentina. Ashford Madam. And now Patricia Bloom.
In that exact order.
