Beauty in the Bile

The first thing Adam noticed when he woke wasn't the morning light peeking through the windows.

It was the smell.

He sat upright in bed, blinking groggily, then immediately gagged.

It stank.

Rot and sulfur and something that smelled like the inside of a demon's armpit after leg day. He looked down.

Black.

Thick, oily, disgusting black bile clung to his skin, bubbling faintly as if still alive. It coated his chest, his arms, his thighs—like a second skin made of regret and tar.

"WHAT THE FU—!"

A sharp knock rang from the door.

"Young master?! What happened?!"

"N-Nothing!" he blurted out, flinging his blanket over the bed. "I saw a squirrel! In my room!"

A long pause.

Then, a very long sigh from the other side.

"If you scream like that again over wildlife, young master, I will barge in. Squirrel or succubus, you understand?"

He coughed awkwardly. "Y-Yes. My deepest apologies."

He waited until her footsteps retreated before throwing himself out of bed like the sheets were on fire. The bile clung to him, refusing to come off with a simple rub. His fingers left trails in it like sticky ink. His feet squelched on the wooden floor.

Twenty minutes later, the entire bathroom looked like it had hosted a murder. The water had to be drained twice, and he used nearly an entire bar of soap scrubbing it off his arms. The blackness eventually faded—only to be replaced by something far more surreal.

A glint of light caught the corner of his eye. A small blinking notification hovered at the edge of his vision.

[System Notification]

✅ Physique +10 fully assimilated.

Stat sheet updated.

He exhaled slowly, finally feeling like a human again.

"Status," he muttered.

[Status]

Strength: 25

Physique: 35

Speed: 25

Endurance: 28

Wisdom: 20

Charm: 25

Mana: 500

Aura: — Locked

Trait: Locked

Mana Gates Opened: 5/100

School of Magic: Color Magic

Colors Unlocked: Red, Yellow, Blue

His gaze locked onto the [35].

Physique.

It was already five over everything else.

His brows furrowed, a thought creeping through his head.

What happens when a stat hits 40?

Surely, something had to happen. A breakthrough? A hidden reward? He'd have to test it later. But for now—

He passed by the mirror and paused.

He stopped.

Then took three steps backward.

The boy in the reflection wasn't a stranger—but he wasn't Adam Blake either. Not the Adam of before. The fat rolls were mostly gone, replaced by soft skin and a trim frame. His belly, once a planet orbiting shame, had flattened into a manageable paunch. His skin? Clean. Smooth. Pale as milk and practically glowing under the light.

No more acne.

No more grease in his hair.

His cheeks were still round, but now they looked… cute.

Like a proper noble boy, the kind rich aunties pinched and praised.

He opened his mouth and immediately did a little hop in place. "Holy shit," he whispered. "I'm… light."

And then—he jumped.

Not just any jump. A full-on, two-footed Mario-tier leap into the air with both fists raised. "Let's fucking gooo—!"

He landed with a soft thud, biting his lip to contain the euphoric squeal in his throat.

This was it. This was payoff.

This was what defying fate felt like.

Another knock. His butler again.

"Young master. Breakfast is served. Please do not make me fetch you again."

He composed himself. "Coming!"

After toweling off and applying a generous splash of cologne, he reached for one of the old outfits tucked into his wardrobe—a soft, baby blue half-robe, half-dress ensemble tailored to the style worn by noble boys in spring. Last month, it wouldn't even fit past his shoulders.

Today, it slipped on perfectly.

He opened the door.

His butler—tall, severe, mid-fifties with a sharp bun and a sharper tongue—looked up to greet him as usual.

Then stopped.

Then stared.

"…Who are you," she said flatly. "And where is the young master?"

He blinked. "I am the young master."

She squinted, eyes narrowing. "No. You're… you're too fair. Too clean. Too not-round."

"Well, thank you," Adam said with a nervous laugh. "I did just wake up from a life-threatening slime bath."

"…Huh?"

"Long story."

She reached out, prodded his cheek once—then recoiled. "Soft."

"Yes."

"Smooth."

"Indeed."

"You're not sweating through your collar."

"That was one time."

They stared at each other for a moment more before she sighed, collecting herself. It did make sense for him to lose weight since he'd been working out and she heard that boys had these glow up much quicker than women once they started taking care of thesmelves. 

Besides, this wasn't too surprising out of the many things she'd seen as a loyal butler of the Blake House, serving two generations now. She simply muttered, "I understand," under her breath and turned on her heel. "Please follow me. If Lady Marianne sees you before your hair is brushed, she'll call it blasphemy and have someone flogged. Probably me."

Adam laughed softly, following behind. He liked this butler of his.

+

Dining Hall

The dining hall of House Blake was as grand as it was excessive. A vaulted ceiling, twin chandeliers, a polished oak table long enough to seat thirty—all for a family of five. Sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows, painting the room in hues of gold and crimson.

At the head sat Lady Marianne Blake, Baroness of the Western Vale, matriarch of the Blake House. Tall, regal, sharp-eyed. Every inch a predator in velvet.

Beside her, a thin, quiet man sat two chairs down. Lord Gerald Blake. The only thing thinner than his limbs was his voice, which hadn't been heard in weeks. He stared at the tablecloth like it held the meaning of life, fingers delicately adjusting the pink rouge painted under his eyes.

To her left sat Crystal Blake, silver twin-tails bouncing lightly as she cut into her poached egg with all the joy of someone preparing for public execution. Her frost-blue robes shimmered faintly with residual mana.

Opposite her, poised and elegant, was Laylee Blake—firstborn, heir to the barony, the prodigious fire magician and proud lady-to-be. She was quietly sipping her rosewater tea, gaze focused on nothing in particular.

They were waiting for news.

A special announcement.

Something Lady Marianne had deemed "important enough for the entire family."

And then—

SLAM.

The double doors flung open.

Adam strolled in, looking like a spring breeze given human form.

And proceeded to absolutely dive into the roasted boar in the center of the table.

No hesitation.

No greeting.

Just an open mouth and a meat-skewer loaded with sweet sauce being chomped like a starving cartoon hamster.

Everyone stared.

Cheeks puffed. Mouth full. Sauce on his lips. A sparkle in his now-cutely-bright eyes.

Laylee blinked.

Crystal's knife stopped mid-cut.

Even Lord Gerald tilted his head a little.

And Lady Marianne narrowed her eyes.

A single thought passed through every member of the Blake household.

"Who the f**k is this boy?"