Dual Realm Exchange System

"I need your semen."

Damian stared at Ophelia, and Ophelia stared back as neither spoke for several seconds.

The difference was that Damian looked as though someone had just slapped him across the face with a wet fish, while Ophelia appeared perfectly capable of waiting until the end of civilization for an answer.

Eventually, Damian raised one finger.

"No."

Ophelia blinked. "No?"

"No."

"It’s biologically useful."

"I don’t care."

"It would complete the reproductive—"

"Ophelia."

"Yes?"

"No."

The green-haired Mage glanced down at the research sheet.

Damian immediately narrowed his eyes.

"Don’t start bargaining."

"I hadn’t said anything."

"You negotiated ten milliliters of blood out of me earlier. I know what that face means."

Ophelia seemed mildly disappointed that one of her methods had already been identified.

"Five milliliters?"

Damian stood up and slammed his hand on the table.

"Have a good night, Ophelia!"

He had tolerated the blood, tolerated the hair, and even tolerated having his skull measured for hypothetical future head growth, which remained one of the stupidest things anyone had done to him since arriving in Valoria.

There were limits to his patience, and this was one of them.

Maybe if he had known Ophelia longer.

Maybe if circumstances between them were very, very different.

Maybe if the request had not been delivered with the same emotional intensity a physician might use when asking for a urine sample.

But right now?

Absolutely not.

"I’ll consider contributing to your research another time, but this one is several steps beyond what I agreed to today," Damian stated firmly while straightening his robe.

Ophelia watched him prepare to leave.

For the briefest moment, her sleepy eyes changed and the lethargy vanished.

This was not because Damian had rejected her personally, as that would have been easier to dismiss.

What flashed through those green eyes was something much sharper.

Urgency.

An Otherworlder had appeared in Rosewood Town almost by miracle.

An Otherworlder whose unusual attributes overlapped with the very problem Ophelia had spent years tearing apart piece by piece.

An Otherworlder who had tolerated several hours of testing despite complaining throughout almost all of it.

And one who might leave Rosewood Town tomorrow, die in Moonveil Forest, become too important for casual research, or simply decide that allowing a strange Mage to extract pieces of him was no longer entertaining.

Ophelia did not know when she would get another opportunity like this.

Years ago, she might have waited politely.

Years ago, she had still believed time was an abundant resource.

Now?

Time was something Ophelia measured every morning when she woke up.

So she remembered Janet’s advice, the advice she had initially dismissed as idiotic, then had considered scientifically.

Then, after several minutes of increasingly persuasive explanation from the shameless halfling, reluctantly memorized.

Ophelia lowered the research paper.

"My apologies."

Damian paused, feeling that this was unexpectedly... normal.

Ophelia bowed her head slightly.

"I went too far."

Damian studied her suspiciously.

"...Thank you?"

"You agreed to assist with research. You did not agree to every possible sample."

"Exactly!"

"I should have asked before including it."

Damian relaxed a little.

Huh.

That was surprisingly mature.

Maybe Janet’s influence had not completely ruined this woman after all!

Ophelia gathered several sheets from the nearby table.

"Before you leave, would you like to see the results?"

Damian hesitated. "What kind of results?"

"Your results."

"That does make sense."

"I can explain the abnormalities while they’re fresh in my memory. Some may be relevant to your future Class development."

That caught him.

Damian glanced toward the door, then toward the papers.

Tsk, damn curiosity.

"Fine! Five minutes more."

Ophelia pointed toward her desk.

"Sit there."

Damian checked the chair as though expecting restraints.

There were none, and so, he sat.

The chair was unexpectedly comfortable, with padded cushioning and a slightly curved back that immediately made him understand how Ophelia could spend twelve-hour research sessions here without destroying her spine.

The desk itself was almost shockingly tidy.

Everything had a place, three stacks of journals on the left, writing implements arranged by size, and mana crystals sorted into small labeled trays.

Nothing like the chaotic laboratory behind him.

Ophelia placed the first document before Damian.

"Physical integration."

Damian leaned forward.

A diagram showed a simplified Human outline covered by several colored magical channels.

"Your body is almost completely indistinguishable from an ordinary Valorian Human under conventional examination," Ophelia explained.

"Whatever mechanism brought you here did not merely place a foreign soul into a local body."

Damian’s attention sharpened. "So it changed me?"

"Possibly. Or Valoria recognized your existing body and adapted it."

That was actually interesting.

Ophelia moved closer and placed another document beside the first.

"Your Mana channels appear naturally developed rather than recently formed. There is no scar tissue, forced expansion or evidence of artificial awakening."

"So the System did a clean job."

Ophelia tilted her head. "What System?"

Damian froze. "Figure of speech."

"Mhm."

She wrote something down.

"HEY!"

Ophelia ignored him.

For the next several minutes, the research genuinely held Damian’s attention.

His blood behaved normally, his Mana signature was unusual but stable, and his Class integration appeared essentially perfect.

His higher Spirit did not currently display the same destructive imbalance Ophelia had secretly been searching for, largely because Damian’s body seemed capable of adapting alongside his growth.

That particular conclusion made Ophelia linger over the page longer than necessary.

Damian noticed. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing conclusive."

Her voice had become softer.

He looked at her and noticed that Ophelia had leaned over his shoulder to point toward several readings.

Quite close, actually.

Damian returned his attention to the page, but several seconds later, it wandered again.

Ophelia was partially bent across the desk.

The loose shape of her Mage robe normally concealed much of her figure, making the sleepy researcher seem almost shapeless beneath all that fabric.

It was doing a considerably worse job from this angle.

Damian immediately remembered Janet’s earlier antics and the accidental glimpse he had received days ago.

His thoughts derailed.

’No.’

He focused on the document.

[Mana Adaptation Variance: 11.7%]

Very interesting, extremely scientific!

No women here, only numbers!!

Ophelia shifted closer, and Damian’s eyes closed for half a second.

’Oh boy...’

Then he noticed something else, her lavender-esque scent.

At least, that was what his actual nose told him, which was likely from whatever soap or bath mixture she used.

Except beneath that was something else, something he could not quite describe.

It did not seem to reach him through smell.

Rather, some other part of his perception recognized Ophelia’s presence as distinctly pleasant, warm, and faintly intoxicating.

Almost like a perfume meant for the soul instead of the nose.

Damian frowned.

Was that his SPI?

Some kind of Mage sensitivity?

Or was it related to her unusually powerful Spirit?

He almost asked, then Ophelia glanced at him, her eyes lingering on his features.

Damian realized he had completely stopped pretending to read and had been staring at the outline of her figure.

"Something wrong?" she asked innocently.

"No."

"You appear distracted."

"Research fatigue."

"Mhm."

That little sound contained an unreasonable amount of skepticism.

Ophelia straightened, and Damian exhaled with relief.

Whew!

Any longer and he might have been forced to either distance himself or do something crazier.

The next moment though, Ophelia turned and calmly sat on his lap.

Damian’s entire body locked up.

"...Ophelia."

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting."

"I have eyes!"

"The chair is occupied."

"BY ME!"

"Yes."

Damian stared at the side of her face as Ophelia calmly picked up another research sheet.

"Your spiritual resonance is particularly interesting."

"We are not discussing spiritual resonance like this!"

"You were becoming distracted."

"This is worse!"

"I disagree."

Damian placed both hands carefully around her waist.

"Alright, up you get!"

Ophelia did not move.

"Ophelia."

"Yes?"

"Stand."

"I am comfortable."

"I am not!"

"That appears increasingly inaccurate."

Damian’s expression collapsed.

This woman had no shame!

He tried shifting her upward, only for the movement to bring them even closer.

Damian immediately froze, and Ophelia also went still for half a second.

Then, somehow, she continued reading.

"Your Mana integration—"

"Stop pretending this is normal!"

"I am conducting research."

"No researcher needs to sit on the test subject!"

"Unverified claim."

"There are centuries of academic procedure verifying that claim!"

Ophelia’s mouth twitched again.

Damian saw it. "You’re enjoying this."

"No."

"Liar."

"Insufficient evidence."

She had absolutely been corrupted by Janet, there was no other explanation.

Damian could feel his composure deteriorating by the second.

The closeness was bad enough, but the scent was worse.

Damian leaned his head back in defeat.

He could practically feel the softness and fullness of Ophelia’s body through the thin layers between them.

Her robe gathered around her in loose folds, but it did little to disguise the breadth of her figure or the way her expansive backside nearly eclipsed his waist when she settled onto his lap.

Unfortunately for Damian, his Mage’s robe had not been designed with situations like this in mind. It was not made from stiff leather, reinforced canvas, or any other material that might have provided a useful barrier.

Instead, it was closer to lightweight cotton, resembling the soft fabric used in men’s joggers back on Earth.

It was comfortable, breathable, and completely inadequate for preserving his composure.

Ophelia’s robe was even worse.

The material was so light and fluid that it seemed closer to polyester, chiffon, or some magical equivalent of both.

It draped elegantly over her body, but its practical value as a layer of separation was questionable at best. Every time she shifted, the fabric moved with her, folding and sliding rather than holding its shape.

All of this meant that the clothing between them did almost nothing to dull the sensation.

If anything, it made matters worse.

The softness of the two materials allowed them to move against each other with almost no resistance.

Instead of creating distance, the fabric followed every subtle adjustment, emphasizing the pressure and warmth between them.

It was not quite the same as skin against skin, but it was close enough that Damian’s body seemed determined to treat the distinction as irrelevant.

He could feel the gentle weight of her settling more comfortably against him, the faint movement of her breathing, and every small shift as she adjusted the research papers in her hands, each motion sending another distracting reminder through him.

Damian’s hands remained carefully positioned at her waist, partly because he was trying to be respectful and partly because he no longer trusted himself to move them anywhere else.

His fingers pressed lightly into the soft fabric of her robe, and even that minimal contact was enough to make his thoughts scatter.

Immediately, the blood that had been surging throughout his body finally broke through the final barrier and surged into the Young Master.

Male species’ second brain, online and waiting for orders!

Damian pursed his lips from embarrassment.

This was ridiculous!

Ophelia was supposed to be explaining the results of his examination!

Instead, she was sitting on his lap in clothing that seemed specifically designed to transmit every sensation directly through to his nerves, while Damian struggled to maintain the last scraps of his dignity.

He swallowed with difficulty as Ophelia continued reading as though nothing unusual was happening.

That was perhaps the most infuriating part.

She seemed perfectly calm, her sleepy expression unchanged, while Damian was acutely aware of every point of contact between them. The contrast made him wonder whether she was genuinely unaffected or simply much better at hiding it.

Then Ophelia shifted again, only slightly, barely enough to adjust her balance, but it was still enough to make Damian’s breath catch.

Her robe brushed against his, the soft fabrics sliding together with a faint whisper. The movement was innocent in itself, but the closeness transformed it into something far more powerful than it had any right to be.

Damian stared at the document in front of him, the words blurring into gibberish.

"Your spiritual resonance appears to fluctuate when exposed to—"

Ophelia spoke for a bit and paused, allowing Damian to realize that he had not heard the rest of the sentence.

The soft fabric shifted again as she leaned closer to the page, and Damian’s grip tightened slightly at her waist.

Rather, she began to wickedly move her hips, rubbing her backside over Damian’s lower body, executing what was effectively a lap dance, but with the sheer fabric between them, it became extremely powerful.

Damian tried to resist and escape, but Ophelia’s strength pinned him down with surprising ease.

Every time he attempted to shift away, she adjusted her grip and kept him firmly in place, her movements calm and deliberate.

To make matters worse, his legs had gone weak from the sensation, refusing to provide the support he needed.

He could only tense helplessly beneath her, caught between the instinct to flee and the humiliating realization that his body was no longer cooperating.

After continuing for a little while longer, Damian found himself far too awake to pretend that he was still merely enduring the examination.

His thoughts had become scattered, his breathing uneven, and whatever resistance he had initially maintained had gradually dissolved into something much less certain.

Ophelia noticed.

She had been watching him carefully throughout the entire process, recording every change in his expression and posture with the same focus she applied to her research.

But now, even she could tell that the situation had reached a point where another approach was necessary.

Stage three, Janet had called it.

Ophelia bit her lip, knowing that this was a field she had never walked into before, but she would walk it, for the sake of research!

After a moment, she made her decision and slowly rose to stand before Damian.

The fellow looked up at her, slightly dazed.

His usual sharpness had been softened by the experience, and the last of his resistance seemed to have faded.

He had stopped trying to analyze every movement, stopped searching for an excuse to retreat, and simply surrendered himself to the moment.

While he was still coming out of it, Damian noticed Ophelia grip the hem of her robe and pull it all the way upward, drawing the fabric above her waist until it rested loosely around her hips.

For a moment, he simply stared.

The sight before him erased whatever lingering haze remained, replacing it with a sharp, bewildered awareness of exactly what Ophelia was doing.

She then bent over the desk, bracing herself against its polished surface and presenting herself with deliberate, almost clinical calm.

The movement left Damian with an unobstructed view, and whatever part of his brain had still been attempting to process the situation immediately abandoned all other tasks.

His thoughts became considerably less scientific.

Ophelia glanced back at him over her shoulder.

Her expression remained as lazy and half-lidded as ever, but the faint color in her cheeks suggested that she was not nearly as unaffected as she appeared.

She did not rush him or say anything unnecessary.

Instead, she simply waited, leaving the decision entirely in his hands.

Damian swallowed. "Ophelia..."

"Yes?"

"You’re really serious about this?"

She gave a small nod. "It is the final stage of the test."

"That is not what I meant."

"I know."

Her answer was quiet, but there was no uncertainty in it.

Ophelia reached back and pulled aside her thin undergarments, fully exposing herself.

If Damian agreed, she intended to ’assist’ him carefully and make certain the sample was collected safely, just as she had promised.

"You can begin whenever you are ready," she murmured.

At that point, how could Damian hold back?

The fellow let out a long, resigned sigh and reached for the clasp of his Mage robe.

He removed it slowly, folding it over one arm before setting it aside, all while trying to convince himself that he was still thinking rationally.

Then he stepped closer, his hesitation finally giving way to decision.

"Fine, but don’t blame me for what happens next!" he muttered.

.................

Damian collapsed back into Ophelia’s chair and stared blankly at the laboratory ceiling.

His mind had achieved enlightenment.

The ancient enlightenment experienced by countless men throughout history immediately after—

’What the hell did I just do?’

His breathing was finally settling.

Across the desk, Ophelia remained still for several moments before gradually recovering enough to stand slightly.

Damian covered his face in shame, watching his plentiful ’essence’ drip from her lower body slowly.

Still, it had been incredible, far better than anything he had experienced on Earth.

Ophelia quietly straightened her clothing, and by the time Damian finally looked at her again, she had restored most of her usual appearance.

Her green hair was slightly disordered, her eyes half-lidded, and her posture listless.

Only the unmistakable blush across her cheeks betrayed that anything unusual had happened.

She faced him, then curtsied in a prim manner.

"Thank you very much, Damian Baines."

Damian tilted his head in puzzlement. "For...?"

"The experience." Ophelia answered with a slight blush.

She paused, then nodded. "And for assisting my research."

Damian’s eye twitched.

There it was, the infallible researcher had returned.

He waved one hand magnanimously because he had absolutely no idea how else a dignified man was supposed to handle this situation.

"You’re... welcome? And, uh, thank you too."

Excellent, very sophisticated!

Truly a charismatic master, he was!

Ptui!

Ophelia nodded as though they had just completed a normal business transaction.

"Would you like to review the remaining results?"

Damian looked at the documents with disinterest.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Another day."

He quickly finished dressing and adjusted his Mage robe until he resembled a respectable Journeyman again rather than a man who had just made questionable life choices inside a research laboratory.

Ophelia escorted him downstairs and out, the two passing a single farewell as Damian disappeared into the distance.

............

Back inside the laboratory, Ophelia locked the door, and her sleepy expression immediately disappeared.

She returned to the desk and carefully retrieved a prepared crystal tube.

Her robes rustled and rose, revealing a faint magical hand that was cupped, holding a stream of white fluid that it had ’collected’ from what dripped out of her.

With meticulous care, Ophelia completed the final collection required for her research and sealed the sample inside the tube.

She held it toward the light, and for once, there was no tiredness in her expression, only concentration and hope.

The kind of hope she had trained herself not to feel.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the tube.

"With this..."

Ophelia’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"Everything should finally be alright."

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