I opened my eyes to the sensation of sinking into an impossibly soft, luxurious bed. For a moment, confusion clouded my mind—this wasn't my bed, and this definitely wasn't my room. As I took in my surroundings, awe replaced confusion. The room was breathtaking: grand, opulent, every detail screaming wealth and refinement.
Feeling an unfamiliar surge of energy coursing through me, I decided to examine my new body. My skin felt alive, vibrant, almost electric with vitality. Curiosity drew my gaze downward. Hesitantly, I lifted the waistband of my pants and peered inside. What I saw left me speechless. My manhood was significantly larger than before, thick and heavy even in its aroused state, throbbing insistently with morning wood. It demanded attention, twitching with need. I knew from the intense pressure that if I ignored it, the ache wouldn't subside for at least an hour—and if I tried to satisfy it myself, it would likely take fifty to sixty minutes before my arm gave out entirely.
With a resigned sigh, I decided to leave it for now.
A few minutes later, I pushed the silk sheets aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Standing, I noticed the door across the room was firmly locked. Curiosity and a restless heat still simmering in my veins urged me forward. I stripped off my t-shirt and pants, letting them fall to the floor until I stood completely naked. My erection bobbed with the movement, still unrelieved and glistening slightly at the tip.
Unable to resist entirely, I wrapped my hand around it. The fit was perfect—warm, thick, pulsing against my palm. I began stroking slowly, gently at first, then settling into a steady, pleasurable rhythm as my hips rocked instinctively. Ten minutes passed. My arm began to ache, then go numb, yet release still wouldn't come. Frustrated, I let go. My cock twitched in protest, a bead of pre-cum trailing down the shaft.
I exhaled heavily. "Looks like you need a real partner to calm down," I muttered under my breath, the crude thought slipping out as I turned and walked toward the large, ornate mirror on the far wall.
I stepped in front of the ornate mirror, still naked, and stared at my reflection. Disbelief flickered in my eyes as I took in the stranger looking back at me. I appeared to be in my early twenties, with smooth, unblemished skin stretched over lean, defined muscles—strong but not bulky, the kind of build that spoke of grace rather than brute force. My features were strikingly handsome, aristocratic even, like those of a noble born to privilege: sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and deep, dark eyes that seemed to hold secrets. Overall, I was a handsome devil, the sort who could turn heads in any court.
A few minutes passed as I stood there, transfixed. The truth was still sinking in: I had been reincarnated into a medieval fantasy world, born as the fifth son of a duke. For reasons I couldn't yet fathom, memories of my past life were returning to me. The merging process felt incomplete, fragments drifting just out of reach. Until everything settled, I had no choice but to wait.
Then panic surged through me. What if I was illegitimate—a maid's son, or worse, the offspring of a courtesan? I frantically searched the emerging memories for answers, dread tightening my chest. When the truth finally surfaced, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. My mother was no lowly servant or mistress. She was a holy knight.
A few minutes later, another question surfaced: where was I right now—my mother's knightly fortress or my father's elegant, luxurious mansion? I delved deeper into the emerging memories for the answer.
My father, the duke, had five wives. Four were legitimate noble ladies from powerful families, married purely for political alliances. My mother was the sole exception: a renowned holy knight who had wed him for the same cold, strategic reasons. I was born as his fifth child and youngest son—two older brothers and two older sisters from the other wives. Shortly after my birth, my mother divorced the duke, married the man she truly loved—a fellow knight—and bore him twin sons.
As the memories settled, I counted my half-siblings. From my father's side: two brothers and two sisters. From my mother's second marriage: two younger twin brothers. Six in total. Smiling faintly at my reflection, I raised six fingers to the mirror.
My situation was, frankly, delightful.
As the last child born to my father, I had no claim to his title or primary inheritance—his two elder sons from the noble wives were clearly being groomed as heirs. And since my mother already had the twins with her beloved husband, I wasn't in line for her legacy either. Yet that was precisely what made everything perfect. I enjoyed the duke's vast influence and resources without the burden of expectation, plus the unwavering protection of a holy knight mother. I was a true privileged second-generation heir: free to live comfortably, unburdened by competition, so long as I avoided doing anything stupid enough to disgrace either parent.
Glancing around the room once more, I confirmed what the furnishings already suggested. This was my mother's fortress. When she left the duke, she had taken me with her—I was, after all, her firstborn. My father hadn't objected; he already had the two sons he needed for the succession.
No wonder I looked so nobly refined—it came from my father's bloodline—while the almost unnatural stamina and vitality surging through me were clearly my mother's gift. Together, they made me exceptional in ways I was only beginning to appreciate.
My cock was still achingly hard, twitching with every heartbeat. Absentmindedly, I wrapped my hand around it again and stroked slowly as my thoughts wandered. Didn't a duke's son—especially one raised in a holy knight's fortress—have a personal maid to attend to such needs? A quick search through the memories told me no; I had been kept deliberately apart from the usual noble indulgences, probably my mother's doing. For a fleeting moment I considered sneaking out to whatever passed for a brothel in a knightly stronghold, but before the idea could take root, a translucent blue panel materialized in front of my eyes.
I didn't flinch. Of course there was a system—I was a reincarnator, after all, and the flood of past-life memories had primed me for exactly this trope.
[Do you wish to bind the System?
Yes / No]
I shrugged, a grin tugging at my lips. "Why not?" I muttered. "This is about to get a lot more interesting." I reached out and tapped Yes.
The panel dissolved into a progress bar:
Loading… 1% … 27% … 63% … 98% … 100%.
Initialization complete.
A new notification appeared:
[Beginner's Gift Package available. Open now?]
Anticipation flared hot in my chest. Whatever was inside, it felt like the kind of windfall that could change everything. I moved to claim it—then froze as a stark red warning overlaid the screen:
[Warning: Opening the Beginner's Gift Package will generate significant spiritual fluctuations. Nearby individuals may detect the disturbance. For safe receipt of all rewards, relocate to a secluded area before proceeding.]
I exhaled, nodded once, and dismissed the panel. First things first—I needed privacy.
I stretched languidly, feeling the lingering vitality hum through my muscles, then gathered my discarded clothes from the floor. I dressed slowly—savoring the slide of fabric over my still-sensitive skin—before approaching the door. My hand hovered on the handle as a sudden worry struck: what if Mother noticed me leaving and insisted on sending knights as escorts? That would completely derail my need for privacy to open the gift package. Scratching my head, I decided to improvise and adapt as needed.
With a steadying breath, I opened the door, stepped into the corridor, and closed it softly behind me.
It was already afternoon; sunlight slanted through high windows, warming the stone floors of the fortress. As I made my way toward the main exit, maids and butlers bowed respectfully, murmuring greetings of "Young Master." My gaze lingered on the beautiful, mature maids—their poised grace and subtle curves stirring fresh heat in my blood. The thought of pulling one into an alcove was tempting, but I dismissed it almost immediately. With the unnatural vitality inherited from my mother, even protected sex carried too much risk; pregnancy was all but guaranteed, and the scandal would ripple far. I was special to both parents in ways my half-siblings weren't. To Father, I was the only child born purely from the marriage to my mother, not a political tool—his last son, the one he could love without calculation, which explained the lavish resources and quiet influence extended to me. To Mother, I was her firstborn, cherished beyond measure.
I couldn't afford to disgrace either of them by siring bastards in the halls of their fortress.
As I walked on, my thoughts drifted to the newly bound system. There had to be something in the store—some skill, item, or enchantment—that could solve these… practical problems without consequences. For now, though, I kept moving, the promise of the Beginner's Gift Package pulling me toward seclusion.