After reaching his in he leaned against the inn's wooden railing, watching the bustling town square below. His chest still ached from the strange encounter in the forest, where the glowing mark had burned itself into his skin. Even now, he could feel its faint warmth, like a second heartbeat, pulsing in sync with his own.
"What the hell does this thing mean?" he muttered, his fingers brushing over the mark under his tunic.
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a commotion broke out in the marketplace. A group of rowdy mercenaries was harassing a vendor, overturning his fruit cart and laughing at the old man's feeble attempts to gather the spilled produce. Zoran frowned. Trouble seemed to follow him like a second shadow.
Grabbing his sword, he descended the stairs and strode into the square.
"Hey!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Leave the old man alone."
The leader of the group, a burly man with a jagged scar across his cheek, sneered. "And who's going to make us? You?"
Zoran didn't bother responding. He unsheathed his blade, the sharp ring of steel slicing through the air.
The fight was swift but brutal. Years of adventuring honed Zoran's reflexes and precision. But as he parried the final mercenary's attack, the mark on his chest flared with a blinding light. A surge of power coursed through him, sharpening his strikes and granting him strength he didn't know he possessed. Within moments, the mercenaries were sprawled on the ground, groaning in defeat.
The crowd erupted into cheers, but Zoran barely noticed. His hand pressed against his chest, where the mark's warmth now burned hotter, more alive than ever.
"You handled yourself well," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
Zoran turned to see a young woman with long auburn hair and eyes that shimmered like molten gold. She was strikingly beautiful, her features delicate yet exuding an aura of quiet strength.
"Thanks," he muttered, sheathing his sword.
The woman smiled, stepping closer. "Not many would have intervened."
"It was the right thing to do," Zoran replied.
She tilted her head, studying him intently. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Zoran shook his head. "Just passing through."
"Well," she said, extending a hand, "I'm Aira. And you are?"
"Zoran."
"Zoran," she repeated, her lips curling into a warm smile. "I'd like to repay you. Come to my cottage tonight—it's on the outskirts of town. You've earned a proper thanks."
Zoran hesitated, unsure of her intentions, but the sincerity in her gaze disarmed him. Finally, he nodded. "I'll think about it."
That evening, Zoran found himself standing outside a small cottage nestled amidst wildflowers. A faint light glowed from within, casting a welcoming warmth. He knocked, and the door opened almost immediately.
Aira stood in the doorway, her golden eyes lighting up at the sight of him. "You came."
"You made it hard to say no," Zoran replied, stepping inside.
The cottage was cozy, with a fire crackling in the hearth and the scent of herbs and fresh bread filling the air. Aira gestured for him to sit at the dining table, where a simple yet hearty meal awaited.
They ate in companionable silence at first, but Zoran couldn't shake the feeling that Aira was studying him, her gaze lingering a little too long.
"You're different," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Zoran raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
She leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup. "There's a weight to you—a presence. And that mark…" Her eyes flicked to his chest, hidden beneath his tunic.
Zoran stiffened. "How do you know about that?"
Aira's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I have my ways. That mark isn't just a scar, Zoran. It's a symbol of power—and destiny."
Zoran narrowed his eyes. "Destiny? What does that mean?"
Aira rose from her seat and moved closer, her golden eyes locking onto his. "It means you're bound to a fate unlike any other. The Mark of the Harem King isn't just a blessing—it's a calling. Through it, you'll gain strength, abilities, and… connections."
"Connections?" Zoran echoed, his skepticism evident.
Aira's hand brushed lightly against his shoulder. The touch sent an unexpected warmth coursing through him, making his pulse quicken. "Yes. This mark binds you to those it chooses. It calls to others—women who will become your allies, your strength. But for it to awaken fully, there must also be… intimacy."
Zoran's breath hitched as Aira's hand trailed down to rest over his chest, directly above the mark. The warmth intensified, spreading through his body like a flame.
"Aira," he said, his voice strained, "what are you doing?"
She leaned in closer, her lips a breath away from his ear. "I'm helping the mark recognize me. You felt it, didn't you? The heat—the pull?"
Zoran nodded, unable to deny the truth.
"The mark has begun to awaken," she whispered. "But this is only the first step. Each bond will strengthen it—and you. But be warned, Zoran: this power will draw enemies as much as it does allies."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Zoran pulled back slightly, his gaze searching hers. "And what do you gain from this?"
Aira's smile softened. "I only want to help you, Zoran. For now, trust me. The rest will come in time."