Chapter 3: What the actual F**K. System activate.

Adam clapped Orin on the back again, the force making the bench shudder. "Right then! Sona, let's hit the market. Need to restock arrows, maybe find a better whetstone for this old pig-sticker." He grinned, patting the pommel of his sword.

Sona nodded, gathering the remnants of her cloak. She gave Orin another searching look, a slight furrow in her brow. "Will you be alright here, Orin? You still seem... distant."

Orin offered a noncommittal grunt, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine. Just thinking. Go. I'll wait here, perhaps see if Torvin or Elara show up."

The mention of the other party members seemed to placate Sona slightly. She hesitated a moment longer, then turned and followed Adam's broad back out into the growing bustle of the mid-morning city. Jo watched them go, trapped behind Orin's eyes, a silent observer to the easy camaraderie between the warrior and the archer. He noted the way Adam casually slung an arm over Sona's shoulder as they disappeared through the doorway, a gesture of familiar companionship that nonetheless sent a strange, sour pang through the chest Jo now partially inhabited. Orin's feeling, he rationalized. Not mine.

Left alone at the table, the body—Orin—remained seated. The noise of the common room swelled and faded around him, a meaningless backdrop. Jo felt a peculiar listlessness settle over Orin, a heavy inertia that kept him staring blankly at the dregs of ale in his tankard. Minutes stretched into an hour. The innkeeper cleared the plates, eyed Orin curiously, but said nothing. Orin just sat, lost in some internal landscape Jo couldn't access. Was this his usual state? Brooding? Or was Jo's presence somehow amplifying this detachment?

Suddenly, without warning, a blinding spike of pain lanced through Jo's consciousness, originating somewhere deep behind Orin's eyes. It felt like a physical blow, sharp and overwhelming. He squeezed his—Orin's—eyes shut against the agony. Before the internal darkness, shimmering letters swam into view, crisp and impossibly clear against the black void:

*Ding!*

System Interface Activated.

Valid Host Consciousness Detected.

Memory Synchronization Initiated... Estimated Duration: Variable.

Standby.

The letters pulsed once, then faded. The pain intensified for a heartbeat, becoming an unbearable pressure, and then… nothing. Blackness swallowed Jo whole once more, deeper and more complete than even the oblivion following the truck accident.

Consciousness seeped back slowly, like water finding its way through parched earth. The first sensation was awareness of sensation itself. He felt… heavy. Grounded. The phantom detachment was lessened, replaced by a disconcerting feeling of actually being inside the skin, feeling the subtle weight of limbs, the faint thrum of a pulse in the wrists, the texture of the roughspun tunic against skin. It wasn't control, not even close, but it was a terrifying step closer to integration.

A notification shimmered briefly at the edge of his awareness, superimposed over the dim reality filtering through Orin's eyes:

Synchronization Progress: [8%]

Partial Sensory Integration Achieved.

Host Emotional Feedback Loop Established.

Emotional feedback loop? What did that even mean?

Before Jo could fully process the implications, the reality of his situation crashed down on him. It was evening. The light filtering into his vision wasn't the grey morning light, but the deep blues and purples of twilight, tinged with the orange glow of artificial light. Orin was no longer in the common room. He was outside, crouched low on a narrow wooden balcony that seemed to run along the back of the inn's second floor. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke.

And Orin was watching something.

His gaze was fixed, utterly transfixed, on a window just a few feet away. It belonged to another room, almost identical to the one Orin had woken in – small, spartan. But this room was occupied. And the scene unfolding within banished any lingering disorientation from Jo's mind, replacing it with a sickening jolt of adrenaline.

The room was lit by a single flickering candle, casting long, dancing shadows. On the wide, low bed that dominated the small space, two figures were entwined. Adam, his broad back slick with sweat, muscles bunching and releasing with rhythmic power. And beneath him, her hands braced against the rough wooden headboard, her head thrown back, was Sona.

She was naked, her pale skin flushed pink in the candlelight, her coppery hair unbound and fanned out across her shoulders and back. Adam had her positioned doggystyle, his thick arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her hips to his as he drove into her with a relentless, driving rhythm. The impact of their bodies was a dull, wet slap that carried clearly in the still evening air, punctuated by the creak and groan of the bedframe threatening to give way under the force.

Adam reached forward, grabbing a thick handful of Sona's fiery hair, yanking her head back further. A sharp cry escaped her lips, quickly melting into a long, shuddering moan that was pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the headboard, her body arched desperately to meet each deep, punishing thrust.

"Ah... Adam... Fuck... yes!" Her voice was ragged, breathless, laced with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. She screamed his name again as he slammed into her harder, faster, his own guttural groans joining her cries.

Jo felt it then, the "emotional feedback loop" the system had mentioned. It slammed into him with the force of a physical blow. Raw, visceral jealousy tore through him – Orin's jealousy. A possessive rage mixed with a profound sense of betrayal and helplessness. This woman, Sona, the one Orin had known since youth, the one who seemed to care for him… seeing her like this, taken so completely, so brutally by another man, by Adam, their companion… it was like acid pouring into Orin's veins.

But tangled inextricably with the jealousy, twisting around it like a poisonous vine, was something else. Something shameful and undeniable. Arousal. Hot, thick, and heavy, pooling low in Orin's gut. The sight of Sona's complete abandon, the raw animality of Adam's possession, the sheer intensity of her pleasure – it ignited a dark, voyeuristic fire within Orin that resonated sickeningly within Jo. He felt Orin's breath catch, felt the hardness pressing against the rough fabric of his trousers as he remained frozen, hidden in the shadows, watching.

Jo's mind recoiled in horror and disgust, yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. 

WHAT THE ACTUAL F**K he scream in his mind.