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My Femboy System - Chapter 119: Days on Edge
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Chapter 118: Frantic Thoughts
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Chapter 120: Bells of Mourning
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... floor balcony, the air slapped me with its usual damp chill, laced with that mountain-mist bite that somehow manages to make every breath taste like disappointment.
I had expected quiet—stillness, perhaps broken only by the occasional cough or whispered conversation. Instead, the courtyard was alive with shouts, grunts, and the metallic scrape of steel. Training. Or at least the clumsy approximation of it that most exhausted competitors managed when they realized the next war might only ...
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