Sophia tried was tired of licking Ethans low hanging fruit she has been going at it for 10 minutes already but it still wouldn't get up Ethan's rod was covered in her saliva dripping wet Sophia frowned and continued licking it from top to bottom but it was of no use
"Isn't it enough?!" Sophia's voice was impatient. "Can you even stand it up now or not?!" Ethan smiled helplessly and asked the system in his mind
Does interaction refer to intimacy… or would something like kissing work?
Ding! The latter would work, host.
For a moment, Ethan didn't respond. He lay there quietly, staring at the faint cracks in the ceiling, his breathing still uneven but no longer as strained as before. The answer from the system echoed in his mind, replaying itself with mechanical certainty.
So it wasn't about the act itself.
It was about contact.
Connection.
A slow realization settled over him, followed by something sharper—something calculating.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward Sophia. She was still visibly annoyed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her brows furrowed, her patience clearly running thin. The earlier effort had taken more out of her than she was willing to admit.
Ethan let out a quiet breath, then spoke, his tone unexpectedly calm.
"Didn't you say you wouldn't do anything against your will?"
Sophia paused mid-motion. Her eyes flicked toward him, suspicion rising almost immediately.
"I did," she replied cautiously. "Why?"
"Then don't," Ethan said simply. "We don't have to keep doing this."
There was a brief silence.
The soft hum of the machines filled the room, steady and indifferent.
Sophia stared at him, trying to read his expression, trying to figure out whether he was serious or just stalling. But there was no trace of panic in his face now. No desperation. Only a strange kind of composure that hadn't been there before.
"…Then what?" she asked.
Ethan shifted slightly against the pillow, as if even that small movement required effort. His lips curved into a faint, almost lazy smile.
"There are easier ways," he said. "For both of us."
The words hung in the air between them.
For a second, nothing changed.
Then—
something clicked.
Sophia's expression shifted, subtle but unmistakable. The tension in her shoulders loosened, her brows relaxing just a fraction as understanding dawned on her.
"…You mean we don't have to go that far?" she asked, her voice lower now, more measured.
Ethan didn't answer directly.
He didn't need to.
Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment longer before she let out a quiet breath—one that sounded suspiciously like relief.
Compared to what she had been doing, this… was nothing.
No effort.
No discomfort.
Just time.
"…You should've said that earlier," she muttered, though the sharp edge in her voice had dulled.
Ethan only smiled faintly in response.
---
What followed was different.
The urgency that had filled the room earlier faded, replaced by something slower, more deliberate. There was no longer any sense of forcing things forward, no impatient movements or strained attempts. Instead, everything unfolded with a quiet, almost cautious rhythm.
The dim lighting of the ward cast soft shadows across the walls, and the steady beeping of the monitor blended into the background like a metronome marking time. Outside, the hospital corridor remained silent, the world beyond their room distant and irrelevant.
Time stretched.
Minutes passed unnoticed.
At some point, Sophia's stiffness gave way to something more natural. The rigid professionalism she had been clinging to softened, if only slightly, replaced by a calmer, more controlled presence. She wasn't flustered anymore, nor was she irritated.
She was simply… there.
And Ethan—
Ethan could feel it.
Not just physically, but in a way that was harder to describe. A faint warmth spread through his body, subtle at first, then gradually more noticeable, like blood returning to limbs that had long since gone numb.
His breathing steadied.
His thoughts cleared.
For the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, he felt something close to control.
Then—
a soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Intimacy Condition Fulfilled]
The system interface unfolded before his eyes, translucent yet undeniable.
[Lifespan Extended: +3 Days]
[Current Remaining Lifespan: 4 Days]
[Reward: Low-Grade Rejuvenation Pill ×1]
Ethan exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his body in a quiet release.
It worked.
Of course it worked.
A faint tremor passed through his fingers, and he flexed them instinctively, testing the sensation. The weakness was still there, but it had receded, replaced by something more manageable.
"Let's leave it here for today," he said, his voice noticeably steadier than before. "I might need you again tomorrow."
Sophia pulled back almost immediately, as if a line had been redrawn.
In a matter of seconds, her demeanor shifted back to normal. She straightened her uniform with practiced efficiency, smoothing out invisible wrinkles before reaching up to tie her ponytail again. The earlier softness vanished, replaced by her usual composed expression.
"That's your problem," she said, holding out her phone. "Transfer the money."
Ethan nodded without complaint and completed the transfer.
A moment later, her phone chimed.
She glanced down, confirmed the amount, and slipped it back into her pocket.
"We'll try something else tomorrow night," Ethan added, almost casually.
Sophia paused at the door.
"My friend's on duty tomorrow," she said without turning around. "We'll see how it goes."
Then she left.
The door clicked shut behind her.
---
The room fell silent.
Ethan lay still for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling, his mind unusually clear.
Then, slowly—
he clenched his fist.
It responded.
Weakly, but undeniably.
"I can move…"
The words were barely more than a whisper.
Carefully, he pushed himself upright. Every muscle in his body protested, every movement stiff and unfamiliar, but he forced himself to continue. The tubes attached to him pulled taut, reminding him of the fragile state he was still in.
He looked down at them.
Then, without hesitation, began pulling them out one by one.
The monitor immediately erupted into a sharp, continuous alarm, the sound piercing the quiet of the room.
Ethan didn't even flinch.
He reached over, pressed the mute button, and let silence reclaim the space.
When his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled instantly, nearly sending him crashing to the floor. He caught himself against the bed with a sharp intake of breath, his grip tightening as he steadied himself.
"…Four days."
Four days to live.
Four days to find a way out.
Four days to turn everything around.
---
He opened his hand.
A pill rested in his palm.
It hadn't been there before.
Reddish-brown, smooth, faintly warm to the touch. A subtle fragrance rose from it, clean and almost invigorating.
The Low-grade Rejuvenation Pill.
Ethan stared at it, his expression unreadable.
His first instinct was obvious.
Use it.
Right now.
Extend his life further.
But that thought faded as quickly as it appeared.
"…Not enough."
One pill wouldn't solve anything.
Not when his survival now depended on something far more sustainable.
His grip tightened slightly.
"I need money."
Without money, there would be no tomorrow.
No next interaction.
No next extension.
Just an inevitable end.
He looked at the pill again.
Then smiled.
"…So I should sell it."
---
Ten minutes later, Ethan stepped out into the corridor.
The hospital at night felt like a different world entirely. The noise and movement of the day had disappeared, leaving behind long stretches of quiet hallways illuminated by dim, sterile lighting. Every sound—every step, every breath—felt amplified in the stillness.
He moved slowly, one hand trailing along the wall for support. His legs trembled with each step, his body still unsteady, but he pushed forward anyway.
Stopping now wasn't an option.
---
The tenth floor.
VIP ward.
He had already chosen his target.
Dave.
Thirty-eight years old. Real estate developer. Admitted for a week with no official diagnosis.
But Ethan had listened.
The nurses always talked.
"…overdid it…"
"…too much…"
"…now he can't even function…"
Ethan stopped outside the door, steadying his breathing before pushing it open.
---
The room inside was quiet, but not empty.
Dave lay on the bed, his body thinner than expected, his face pale, dark circles heavy beneath his eyes. Beside him sat a woman, her posture relaxed, her expression mildly annoyed at the interruption.
Both turned toward the door.
"Who the hell are you?" Dave demanded.
Ethan didn't answer.
He stepped forward slowly, each movement deliberate despite the weakness in his limbs.
Then—
he placed the pill on the bedside table.
The soft tap echoed faintly in the room.
Dave frowned.
"What is this?"
Ethan met his gaze.
"Something that can give you back what you lost."
The woman let out a short laugh. "You've got to be kidding."
Ethan ignored her.
"Two hours," he said calmly. "If it doesn't work, you don't pay."
Silence followed.
Dave stared at the pill.
Then reached out and picked it up.
He examined it carefully, turning it between his fingers before bringing it closer to his nose.
He inhaled.
And for a brief moment—
something changed in his expression.
"…How much?" he asked.
"Ten thousand."
The woman scoffed immediately. "That's ridiculous."
Dave raised a hand, silencing her without even looking.
His eyes remained fixed on Ethan.
"Why is it worth that much?"
Ethan's lips curved slightly.
"Because it works."
Another silence.
Then—
"You can afford to find out."
That was all it took.
Dave understood.
"…Transfer it," he said.
The woman hesitated, but eventually complied.
A moment later—
"It's done."
Ethan nodded once and turned to leave.
"Wait," Dave called out. "Your name."
Ethan paused at the door.
"…Ethan."
"If this works," Dave said slowly, "I'll find you again."
Ethan didn't reply.
But as he stepped out into the hallway—
he smiled.
Because next time—
the price wouldn't be the same.