Chapter 10: Walls Have Ears

The mental command [Sona registered as your Companion 1/1] settled into Orin's consciousness with quiet finality. He braced himself for… something. A flash of light? A shared mental link? 

Instead, the reaction was unsettlingly subtle. Sona, who had been examining the arrows, paused mid-motion. Her gaze lifted, meeting Orin's across the crowded market stall. For a long moment, her green eyes seemed unfocused, distant, as if listening to something far away. Then, the haze cleared. A slow smile spread across her lips, wider and warmer than before, reaching her eyes in a way that felt slightly… different. Intense. She tightened her grip on his arm, pressing herself against his side more firmly, her ample breast pushing insistently against his bicep. It wasn't overtly sexual, yet it carried an undercurrent of possessiveness, of acknowledged connection, that hadn't been there moments before.

"Right," she said, her voice regaining its normal cheerful efficiency, though perhaps a fraction huskier. "Arrows secured. Let's see, maybe grab some lunch?"

And just like that, the moment passed. Nothing else changed. Adam was already haggling over a new whetstone, oblivious. The market buzzed around them. Orin felt a flicker of anticlimax mixed with unease. Registering her had done something, but the immediate effects were far less dramatic than he might have imagined. It was a quiet shift, a subtle tightening of invisible threads.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of mundane activity. Evening found him back in the familiar spartan confines of his room at the inn. He lay flat on his back on the narrow cot, staring up at the shadowed ceiling beams. The sounds of the inn settling down for the night drifted from below – the clatter of mugs being collected, the low murmur of late-night drinkers, the distant closing of heavy doors. His own door was shut tight, a flimsy barrier against the world, and against the sounds seeping through the thin wooden wall separating his room from the one beside it. Adam's room.

He knew, with dreadful certainty, what was coming. He could have requested a different room, feigned illness, gone for a long walk under the inadequate moonlight of this unfamiliar city. But he hadn't. The morbid curiosity, the pull of his quirk, the perverse incentive structure of the damned NTR System – they kept him rooted there, waiting, listening.

It began subtly, just as the inn grew truly quiet. The low murmur of voices first – Adam's deep rumble, Sona's softer tones. Then, the distinct creak of the bedsprings as weight shifted upon it. A period of relative silence, broken only by indistinct whispers and soft sighs. Orin closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but his senses felt unnaturally sharp, amplified by his curse.

Then, the rhythm started. Slow at first, a steady, heavy beat accompanied by the rhythmic groaning of the bedframe. Wet, fleshy impacts. Sona's breath hitched, a soft gasp that was quickly swallowed. Orin's own breath caught in his throat. He felt the familiar, sickening twist in his gut – jealousy, sharp and possessive, warring with the unwanted heat pooling low in his belly.

He turned his head slightly on the pillow, pressing his ear closer to the wall, hating himself for it even as he did it. The sounds grew clearer, more intense than the previous night. The pace quickened, becoming frantic, desperate. He heard the sharp smack of flesh on flesh – distinct, repeated slaps that could only be Adam striking Sona's buttocks as he pounded into her. They weren't gentle love taps; they carried force, a sound of punishment mixed with passion.

Sona wasn't screaming freely this time. Her cries were muffled, choked back, as if Adam had clamped a hand over her mouth, or perhaps she was biting down on something – or someone. Interspersed with the wet, driving rhythm were desperate, choked whimpers, half-formed pleas that broke off into gasping moans. Adam's own sounds were guttural growls, sounds of pure, primal exertion and dominance.

System, Orin thought, desperately trying to distract himself, focusing on the cold, logical interface only he could see. After registering Sona, he had checked her status again, driven by a need to understand. And the system had revealed another layer, another horrifying detail:

Name: Sona

Occupation: Archer

Talent: A

Relationship: 63

Companion Status: Primary [1/1]

Quirk: [Faithless]

Description: Experiences heightened arousal and emotional fulfillment from engaging in intimate acts with others while in a designated relationship. Loved one - Orin

Faithless. The word echoed in his mind, a perfect, terrible counterpoint to his own [Cuckoldry]. She didn't just tolerate Adam's advances; her quirk actively rewarded her for betraying Orin, especially if she suspected he might know. They were a matched set. A pair cursed by miasma or fate to find perverse satisfaction in mutual betrayal and observation. The system hadn't just activated; it had identified the twisted synergy already present and formalized it, turning their shared damage into a game mechanic. 

The sounds from the next room reached a fever pitch. The slapping stopped, replaced by frantic, wet thrusts, the bed slamming against the wall with bruising force. Sona's muffled cries became higher, strained, bordering on pain but undeniably laced with ecstatic pleasure. Then, Adam's voice, a low snarl, "Take it… all of it…" followed by a final, deep groan that vibrated through the wall. A muffled scream tore from Sona, quickly choked off, coinciding with a series of violent, shuddering impacts.

A notification shimmered briefly in Orin's vision:

NTR Event Detected: Primary Companion [Sona] engaged in intense intimacy.

Calculating NP...

Factors: Intensity (High), Duration (Moderate), Companion Quirk Synergy ([Faithless]), Host Quirk Resonance ([Cuckoldry]).

+15 NP Awarded.

'15/100'

Fifteen points. His reward for lying here, with a bonner.

Silence fell next door, thick and heavy, broken only by ragged, gasping breaths – both Adam's and Sona's. Orin lay frozen, the sounds still echoing in his ears. He felt the painful throb of his own unwanted erection pressing against his trousers, a physical testament to his body's betrayal. The jealousy was a raw wound, but the arousal was undeniable.

There were just soft murmurs, the sound of movement, water splashing faintly. The ambiguity was almost worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into the thin pillow steeling his resolve. Level 10. He needed to reach Level 10 to remove this curse, and he will do it!