A Good Town
Trying to suppress his growing urge, Dorian focused on finding something to distract himself during the walk home. The last thing he wanted was to get back and risk doing something reckless around his aunt, all because of some bottled-up frustration.
He pulled out his phone, flipping through his contacts until he landed on Lina's profile. Her picture popped up in the message app—him smiling faintly at the memory, wondering when they'd meet again.
But then his thoughts turned to one girl in specific.
Emma.
He tapped over to her chat instead, her profile picture lighting up the screen—her sitting in front of her bike, striking a confident pose in that pink uniform, the park behind her blurry in the background.
Hot, honestly.
He hadn't even realized how much she stood out until now.
That's when he remembered—she had asked for a picture after the haircut.
He debated whether it was even worth sending one. His hair hadn't changed much, all he got was a little trim on the sides.
But it was a good excuse to get the conversation going.
Turning the phone toward himself, he struck a quick pose, tilting his face slightly to show off the sharper angle of his jawline.
One snap.
He reviewed it for a few seconds, unsure if it was good enough.
"Eh," he muttered with a shrug.
He wasn't a photographer—and the goal wasn't perfection. Just conversation.
He hit send.
The reply came faster than expected.
Emma:
"Nice one!
Dorian smiled to himself, knowing she was probably still under the lingering effects of Yamir's charm magic. But he wasn't going to let that be the only reason she liked him. If this was going to go anywhere, it had to be real.
Dorian:
"Yeah, exactly. I did what you asked—now tell me, what's my prize?
He wasn't going to take the easy route. His instincts might've shifted, but his morals were still intact.
Emma:
"Prize? For a suggestion? And a good one, I might add!
As he walked, Dorian spotted a bench along the sidewalk and sat, relaxing into the moment as he typed back.
Dorian:
"Alright, sure. Day: tomorrow. Time: you choose. Place… you'll have to pick, 'cause I have no idea where to take you. Just swing by on that bike of yours
He watched the typing bubbles appear immediately.
Emma:
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not hard to please when it comes to food
Dorian smirked, wondering how flustered she must be on the other end.
He noticed the typing dots appear again, like she was trying to say more… but didn't.
Dorian:
"See you then, Emma. I'm looking forward to it."
He beat her to it on purpose. It felt better not to seem too eager. As much as he wanted her to come today, pressing it would've felt needy. Better to let the anticipation build.
Emma:
"Good! It won't disappoint.
That's when he heard a familiar chuckle echo in his head.
[Still hanging onto those morals, huh? I wonder how long that'll last once you really taste pleasure. She won't react the same now, so make sure you do your part tomorrow.]
Dorian sighed, brushing his hand through his hair.
It did feel like a waste letting an opportunity like that slip away. But still—he wasn't going to push it. Tonight, he'd just have to blow off steam the old-fashioned way… maybe watch something on his phone and hope that'd be enough.
With that, he got up and headed toward the store to grab a few things they still needed around the house.
His dad put the bare minimum on his bank account, and if he wanted to keep things running smoothly, he'd need to find a part-time job soon.
There was also the attic to finish sorting.
Everything he'd already brought down still needed to be cleaned, cataloged, and posted up online—or laid out for a garage sale.
If he was lucky, some of it might actually be worth something. Between that and a bit of hustling, he figured he could scrape together a little money before school started.
The town square wasn't far, and the streets were starting to pick up now that evening was close.
Compared to his old apartment complex—where even getting groceries meant a two-kilometer drive—this place, though, had it in a nice walkable distance.
He stepped into a small corner shop just off the square and noticed a girl who looked a little younger than him talking to what seemed like her mom near the counter.
Both of them glanced his way—and smiled.
He gave a polite wave, watching as the charm effect began to subtly kick in. Their smiles lingered a little longer. Their posture straightened slightly.
As the two were a bit more attentive.
As he picked up what he needed, he noticed the younger girl subtly moving to the checkout ahead of her mom, clearly trying to be the one to help him. She flashed a bright smile, and her glance carried both a flirty and playful edge.
But Dorian didn't take the bait.
He paid, gave a quick thanks, and walked out—leaving the girl's hopeful expression behind.
Once outside, he took a breath and stared at his reflection in a passing window.
"…Is my power really that strong now?" he muttered.
[Seems you still don't believe what you're capable of. And good choice back there—there are lines even I don't cross.]
"Yeah, no, I still have rules," Dorian muttered. "But am I really gonna be able to hold out with, you know, my aunt at home? I mean… you didn't do anything to her, right? Like dosed her with whatever charm you used on Emma?"
The voice in his head chuckled again.
[Nah. I was actually hoping your morals would cover her, so I could have her all to myself. But alas, it seems that won't be the case…]
There was a sigh, somewhere between amused and disappointed.
[So nope—I'm not helping you there. Anything that happens with her? That's all you. Your choices. Your consequences.]
[Now go on, get home. You've got a ton of work to do, right?]
Dorian gave a slow nod—awkwardly, since no one was actually beside him.
He steadied his breathing as he walked the last stretch back home. The summer night air was cool, a gentle breeze brushing past as the sounds of life filled the neighborhood. Kids were still out running, a few riding bikes or skateboards. Laughter echoed from one street corner to the next.
The town felt warm in a way his last one never had.
It was quiet in a good, friendly sort of way and welcoming.
Decent people. Some kind. Some very lovable.
He had high expectations for his new life here, and what he would discover.