The door swung open, quiet but not careful, and a new presence glided into the room with an energy that instantly changed the air. Damon was half-sprawled on his bed, still in that strange in-between state—muscles loose but blood hot, the last echoes of the system's whispers humming at the base of his skull. He didn't bother to sit up. He just watched her: the newcomer, ears high, tail twitching, gaze sharp and gold.
She was small—petite even—but everything about her was alive and hungry. Loose hoodie, braless tank, shorts that clung to her hips but left little to the imagination. Her skin glowed, and the wild brush of her red-orange hair framed her face in a way that made her fox ears all the more impossible to ignore. Those ears twitched with every sound, every movement. The tail was a thing of its own—long, plush, and coiled behind her in lazy figure-eights.
Bai Xinyi. The name slipped through Damon's mind as if it belonged there already, even though he was sure they'd never met.
She didn't bother with a greeting. She just leaned in the doorway, nose twitching, amber eyes roaming over Damon with open, playful hunger. "So you're the new one." Her voice was all mischief, honeyed and sing-song, but with a note of wildness under the surface. "The one who survived Lilith's little 'welcome ritual' last night. I figured you'd be dead, or at least still too sore to walk."
Damon rolled his eyes, cocky grin returning by reflex. "Disappointed? Or jealous?"
She gave a mock gasp, pressing a delicate hand to her cheek in feigned shock. "Oh, he talks! That's good. It'd be a waste if you were just another pretty corpse." She prowled closer, every step more a glide than a walk, tail trailing behind her like a living question mark. She sniffed the air, close enough for Damon to smell her—something wild and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and some subtle, animal musk.
Her nose wrinkled as she leaned over him, lips just shy of a smirk. "I can still smell her on you. Goddess, it's like she tried to mark you inside out." She pressed her nose to his throat, inhaling deep. "You know, some demons would be pissed off. Others might just want to see what all the fuss is about."
Damon's cock stirred, half-hard already from the memory of Lilith and now twitching at the brush of fox-girl breath against his neck. Xinyi's ears perked straight up, a pleased little shiver running through her. "Oh? Still got some fight left in you? Or maybe just easily impressed?" She flicked her tail across his thigh, giggling.
He matched her play for play, voice dry. "What can I say? I have a thing for girls who act cute and don't bother with pants."
She gave him a look—a slow, delighted once-over that bordered on obscene. "Flatterer. That's good. You'll need it." Her fingers traced up his arm, nails barely scraping his skin, just enough to raise goosebumps. "So, tell me, big bro… Are you always this easy, or is it just me?"
He reached down, shifting himself to hide the rising tent in his pants, not that it made any difference. "You want to test that theory? Or are you just here to make me hard and run away?"
She purred—a sound so close to a growl he almost bared his teeth back. "I'll let you know. But I do love knowing my cuteness works. Ears up, tail wag, cock hard. That's a win for me." She tapped the tip of her nose, as if scoring a point.
Damon couldn't help the laugh that slipped out, the tension between them already thick enough to chew. He watched her tail swish, watched her eyes flick up and down his body, lingering with a predator's patience.
Then she abruptly turned, walking to the battered wardrobe and poking through it with all the ceremony of a bored cat. "I'm bored. It's not even noon, and the boss says we can't start 'entertaining' until after lunch. You're new, you don't know shit about the Dock, and I need someone to carry my bags. Let's go to the market."
Damon blinked. "You want me to go shopping with you?"
She looked over her shoulder, smirk sharp as a knife. "You scared? Think Lilith's going to pop out and drag you back to bed if you leave the brothel? Please. You need fresh air. And I need an audience." She hopped on one foot, sliding on sandals, tail still waving. "Besides, if you don't come, I'll just start whining until the whole house comes running to see who broke the new guy. And I hate crowds."
He considered, but only for a second. Truth was, he wanted to see the city. Wanted to get away from the press of bodies and the heavy scent of sex that clung to every inch of the brothel, if only for an hour.
"Fine," he said, standing and rolling his shoulders. "But if you try to trick me into carrying anything heavier than your ego, I'm out."
Xinyi beamed, fangs flashing. "Deal! Now hurry up, or I'll have to start undressing in the hall just to get your attention." She bounced past him, tail brushing his hip on purpose.
They moved through the lounge, which was half-lit and quiet—only Fizz was there, broom in hand, whistling an off-key tune. He looked up, one brow raised, then gave a slow, exaggerated clap. "Well, look at that. Foxy found herself a date. Try not to get arrested, you two. The city doesn't need another brothel scandal before lunch."
Xinyi grinned, hopping up to lean over the bar, tail flicking at Fizz's side. "Fizz, if I wanted a scandal, I'd just leave Damon here and see how long before the girls start lining up to ride him. Besides, I've got a reservation tonight—don't worry, I'll be back in time for Lord Lucien's limp-dick complaints."
Fizz cackled, tossing a rag at her. "Make sure he leaves with less money and even less pride this time, yeah? Damon, watch out—she'll eat you alive if you let her. And not always in the fun way."
Damon shot him a salute, lips curled in challenge. "I like a little danger with my breakfast."
Xinyi hooked her arm through his, dragging him toward the door. "C'mon, let's go before someone decides we're actually working."
They stepped outside into the midday light, the Dock alive in a way the brothel never could be. The street was a chaos of vendors hawking everything from raw meat to shimmering trinkets, barkers shouting, music rising from nowhere, dancers spinning in clouds of colored smoke. Every kind of body brushed past: demons with scales and claws, humans with bruised lips and hopeful eyes, beastkin selling fish from ice-packed crates. The air was thick with spices and rot and perfume, the kind of scent that clung to skin and hair and soul.
Xinyi stuck close, her tail curling around Damon's wrist like a living leash. She was in her element—grinning, teasing, pausing at stalls to finger silk or taste honey or barter with a grin that made even hardened vendors blush. Damon watched her, fascinated. She moved like a wild thing barely tamed, switching between playful and predatory with every new scent or sound.
They stopped at a fruit cart, the owner a frog-faced demon with warts on his knuckles and a voice like gravel. "Try the blood peaches, fresh this morning. Sweet as sin, sour as regret." Xinyi grabbed two, tossing a coin without haggling, and bit in, juice running down her chin. She offered the second to Damon, eyes bright. "Here. Helps with stamina."
He took a bite. The fruit was sharp, almost electric, the juice spilling over his tongue. Xinyi watched his face, delighted. "Told you. You'll need all the energy you can get if you want to keep up."
They wandered through the market, Xinyi making Damon carry a basket loaded with jars and roots and little bottles of oil. She flirted with every vendor, teased every apprentice, laughed at Damon's deadpan jokes and made a game of getting as close as possible without ever quite touching him—her tail always brushing, her voice always hinting at more.
At one point, a group of boys from the Dock tried to corner her, mock-challenging Damon for "stealing the fox princess." Xinyi just grinned, wrapped her arms around Damon's waist, and whispered loud enough for all to hear, "Don't worry, boys. He can handle me. Maybe one day I'll let you watch."
The crowd howled, some jealous, others just amused. Damon took it in stride, tossing back a filthy quip, and Xinyi led him away before things could get more interesting.
They paused at a bakery, Xinyi licking honey from her fingers as she watched the world move. Her ears twitched constantly, picking up every conversation, every distant cry, every offer of coin or flesh or both. Damon wondered what it must be like to be so open to the world, so unguarded, and so damn unashamed.
After a while, she led him to a quiet courtyard—half-shaded, ringed with low stone benches, a fountain trickling water that smelled faintly of lilies and something darker. She sat, tail curling in her lap, eyes searching Damon's face.
"You're not like the others," she said, voice softer now, the playful edge gone. "Most new demons, they try too hard, or they're too scared to try at all. You? You just… are. Like you've already been broken and rebuilt, and now nothing can really touch you."
Damon shrugged, not sure what to say. He looked at his hands, remembering the feel of Lilith's cunt, the sound of Seraphiel's moans in his head, the system's constant, hungry presence.
"I guess I just don't care enough to be afraid," he said finally. "Or maybe I just want to see what happens if I stop pretending I'm anything but what I am."
She watched him, something feral and sad in her eyes. "You're dangerous, Damon. The Dock loves dangerous men. But it eats them, too." Her tail flicked, brushing his thigh again.
They sat together in silence, the city swirling around them. After a while, Xinyi stood, stretching. "Come on. If I'm late, Fizz will tell the boss, and then I'll have to listen to Lilith lecture me about loyalty and teamwork again."
They retraced their steps through the market, the basket lighter now. Xinyi was quiet, but every so often she'd glance at Damon, as if memorizing the lines of his face, the curve of his mouth, the promise in his eyes.
Fizz was waiting by the door, mop in hand, grinning like he'd been born for trouble. "Back in one piece, huh? Xinyi, don't forget—Lucien's coming tonight. Boss says if he complains, you have to listen this time."
Xinyi huffed, rolling her eyes. "Lord Lucien and his limp-dick curse. If he could fuck half as well as he whines, I'd actually enjoy our sessions."
Damon arched an eyebrow. "Sounds like a blast. Want me to take your place?"
She grinned, tail flicking. "You'd break him. But thanks for the offer, big bro."
Fizz cackled. "Maybe you'll get your chance. Lord Lucien's always looking for a miracle. Or at least a new excuse."
Xinyi leaned in close to Damon, lips almost brushing his ear. "Thanks for coming with me. Next time, maybe we'll skip the market and just find an empty room, yeah?" Her tail snaked around his waist, squeezing, then let go.
Damon watched her go, fox ears twitching, hips swaying, tail high and proud as she vanished down the hall.
He stood in the entryway, the city's scent still clinging to him, the memory of Xinyi's playful challenge a spark under his skin. He could feel the system humming again, the promise of new quests, new hunger, new games. The Dock was alive, and so was he—dangerous, unashamed, and, for the first time, not alone.
Fizz whistled, breaking the moment. "You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna start working? The world doesn't fuck itself, you know."
Damon just grinned and headed for the stairs, ready for whatever came next.