A Cowered

Staring at the closed door for a long moment, Ethan let out a slow breath, his eyes dark and slightly dazed.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he thought, fingers twitching slightly as he rubbed them against his temple.

His body still felt warm, his pulse a touch too fast. The memory of Anna's flushed cheeks, her soft voice thanking him, and the way her eyes flicked away shyly—all of it clung to him, unsettling. This wasn't the first time he'd lost a bit of control over his mouth or his expressions, but this time... this time felt different. More intense. More real. Like something inside him had shifted—subtly but undeniably.

He felt as if he was fighting someone inside his own skin. That wasn't normal. That couldn't be normal.

Just then, the system's voice rang out in his head, crisp as always but laced with a rare seriousness:

{Host, you're not wrong. You are losing control. More accurately, you're losing control over this body.}