NTR: Stealing Nobles and Wives in another world-Chapter 9: The Transmigrated powers

"Elara? Are you in here?"

Elara jumps away from me with a whispered "Fuck!", quickly fixing her dress. "Back here, Lynara," she calls, sounding totally normal despite what we were just doing.

I adjust my pants, trying to hide my raging hard-on, and grab a random book to hold in front of me. Footsteps come closer, light and quick, then someone appears at the end of the row.

Holy shit. It's a fucking elf.

I've seen plenty of fantasy movies and played enough games to know pointed ears when I see them, but seeing a real elf in person is something else.

She's tiny—barely reaching my chest—with a slim body that looks almost breakable. Her skin has this weird glow to it, like moonlight just under the surface, and her ears point up with multiple silver piercings.

But her eyes really throw me off—they're this deep, unnatural purple that seems to shift in the library's dim light.

They lock onto me immediately, widening with interest.

"I told you to wait outside," Elara says, clearly pissed about being interrupted.

The elf—Lynara—completely ignores her, walking toward us with this inhuman grace.

She's wearing what's basically fantasy clubwear—a super short skirt that barely covers her ass, thigh-high leather boots, and a top that's just a few strips of fabric. Her white-blonde hair falls straight down her back, making her pointed ears stand out even more.

"So this is the new slave?" Lynara asks, her voice musical and slightly accented. "The one everyone's talking about?"

Her eyes slowly check out my entire body, focusing on the book I'm awkwardly holding in front of my crotch. Her smirk says she knows exactly what I'm hiding.

"Not bad," she purrs, "for a human."

I clear my throat. "My eyes are up here," I say, pointing to my face.

Lynara laughs, sounding like little bells. "I'd have to climb a tree to see them. You're basically a giant."

She's not wrong. The top of her head barely reaches my chest, making her look even more exotic.

But despite being tiny, there's nothing childlike about her—the curves of her hips and small, perky tits are definitely calling me to lick, just compact.

"Lynara is visiting from the Silver Court," Elara explains stiffly. "Her mother is an ambassador to the kingdom."

"Just visiting?" Lynara smiles. "I practically live here now. Your father's library has the best old books around."

She moves closer, pretending to look at a book next to me, but the move brings her body right up against mine.

She smells nothing like a human woman—something wild and sharp, like crushed herbs and the air after lightning.

"This one looks interesting," she says, reaching for a book near my shoulder. The movement presses her small body against mine, her tits brushing my ribs.

There's absolutely no reason for her to get this close—the shelf isn't that high, and there's plenty of space—but she's clearly enjoying making me uncomfortable.

Elara's eyes narrow dangerously. "Lyn, we have stuff to discuss. Private stuff."

"I'm sure we do," Lynara says, still not moving away from me. "But I couldn't pass up meeting your father's new pet. The servants say he fell from the sky. Is that true, giant?"

"Not exactly," I manage, trying to back up but finding myself pinned against the bookshelf.

"He's from beyond the veil," Elara says, grabbing Lynara's arm and pulling her away. "Like the others."

Lynara's purple eyes light up. "A real transmigrant? How fascinating.

" She looks me up and down again, more like she's assessing me than flirting now. "And just in time for the tournament. Convenient, isn't it?"

"Enough, Lyn," Elara says sharply. "We have stuff to talk about."

"Fine, fine." Lynara lets herself be pulled away, but calls back over her shoulder: "I'll be watching your progress, human. The tournament's coming faster than you think!"

As they disappear down the row, I hear Lynara's voice float back: "He's way hotter than your father's last champion. Those shoulders! And his aura is so bright—he's strong. You should taste him before—"

"Shut up, Lyn!" Elara hisses, and their voices fade as they leave the library.

My status window pops up: freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

[NEW INFORMATION]

Tournament? (Investigate further)

Transmigrant identification: Confirmed by non-human entity

Cross-species interest detected

Well, that was... enlightening. So there's some kind of tournament coming up, I'm apparently a "champion," and other people—including non-humans—know about transmigrants.

Also, did an elf just hit on me? This world keeps getting weirder.

With Elara and her elf friend gone, I finally get back to that weird book I found earlier. I pull it out from where I hid it and find a quiet corner to check it out properly.

The gray cover feels strange under my fingers—not quite leather, but similar, with a weird texture like sharkskin. When I open it carefully, I see the pages are made of some material I've never seen before—not paper or parchment, but some thin, flexible stuff that's almost see-through.

The text switches between languages I don't understand and parts in something close enough to English that I can figure out with some effort.

The book seems to be some kind of historical record about something called "the Crossing of Souls."

"Champions from beyond the veil," I read quietly, "bearing gifts of unnatural vigor and strange knowledge, have appeared throughout the ages.

These vessels of power are recognized by the azure light that surrounds them during moments of great exertion."

Azure light. Like the blue glow of my Enhanced Physique when it kicks in. This has to be about transmigrants.

I flip through more pages until I find a picture—a figure surrounded by blue light, arms out, with symbols around him that look eerily like my status window notifications. The caption says: "The Marked One summons the knowledge of his former world."

Holy shit. This is definitely about people like me.

Further in, another part catches my eye: "The great houses have long sought to possess these visitors from beyond, for their unusual powers bring advantage in the Pleasure Tournament, where champions prove their worth through trials of both martial and carnal nature."

Wait, what? Pleasure Tournament? Carnal nature? I read it again to make sure I'm getting this right. It sounds like nobles use transmigrants as some kind of sex champions in a tournament.

My status window updates:

[QUEST UPDATE]

Discover more about transmigrants

Progress: 25%

Reward: +15 XP (Earned)

The next pages talk about various "gifts" that transmigrants have shown—enhanced strength, unusual stamina, powers of persuasion, and something called "pleasure touch" that lets them "bring ecstasy with the merest caress." That sounds a lot like the locked abilities in my status window.

I'm so into reading that I don't notice time passing until I realize it's getting dark and they're lighting oil lamps around the library. Master Harlowe suddenly appears at my corner, startling me.

"So, you found something interesting?" he asks, his watery eyes surprisingly sharp as they check out the book in my hands.

I close it quickly. "Just learning about local history."

"Is that what you'd call it?" There's a weird tone in his voice—not accusing, but knowing. "That's not local history, boy. That's something much older and more dangerous."

I try to look innocent. "I'm just trying to learn about this world."

"This world," he repeats, emphasizing the words. "As opposed to your world, I suppose."

My heart skips. "What do you mean?"

Master Harlowe sighs, looking suddenly tired. "I've been Lord Derek's librarian for forty-three years. I've seen your kind before. Not many, but enough to recognize the signs."

"My kind?"

"Visitors. Travelers. Those who bear the mark." He gestures vaguely at my chest, where my status window appears. "Those who see words that others cannot."

Shit. He knows what I am.

"How many?" I ask, dropping the act.

"In my time? Four, including you. Lord Derek has... ways of finding your kind. More effective ways than most.

" He takes the book from my hands. "This belongs in the restricted section. Lord Derek would be really pissed to find it out here."

"Can you tell me more about the tournament? Or the other transmigrants?"

Master Harlowe's face closes off. "My job is to the library, not to answer your questions. Besides," he glances toward the windows, "it's getting late. The library's closing."

He shuffles away with the book, and I notice he limps more when he's tired. "Master Harlowe," I call after him. "Do all transmigrants have the same... abilities?"

He pauses but doesn't turn around. "No two are exactly alike. But all are valuable to those who know how to use them. Remember that, boy. In this world, you're not just a slave—you're a commodity. A precious one."

With that cheerful thought, he keeps heading toward the restricted section, leaving me with more questions than answers.

I spend a few more minutes copying notes from other books that might have clues, but find nothing as directly useful as the text Master Harlowe took.

As it gets dark outside, I decide to call it a day. Lady Westfield left hours ago, and only a few servants are still around, putting out lamps in the empty areas.

As I head toward the exit, I pass the section where I ran into Elara earlier. A flash of purple catches my eye—a small leather bookmark lying on the floor.

Elara's bookmark, the one she deliberately dropped. I pick it up and turn it over to find a message in elegant handwriting:

"Midnight. Your room. Be ready."

My cock twitches with anticipation. Tonight's gonna be interesting as fuck.