I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 767: Gifted

Consciousness returned in fragments.

First came the weight.

A significant pressure was exerted upon Jack’s lower extremities, as if a weighty object were resting upon him.

The sensation was not pleasant or neutral; it was distinctly uncomfortable, the kind of weight that something warm and alive was causing the pressure rather than inert matter.

His mind registered the presence but couldn’t immediately process what it meant.

Then sensation reasserted itself, starting with the warmth. His skin felt feverish, burning from the inside out, as if the Madness state had left permanent scarring across his circulatory system.

Every nerve ending seemed hyperaware, overstimulated by whatever recovery his body had undergone.

The sheets beneath him were soaked through with sweat that had cooled and dried repeatedly, creating a tacky, uncomfortable texture against his skin.

Jack’s eyes opened slowly, resisting the effort required to lift his eyelids. The world came into focus gradually.

First blurred shapes, then colors bleeding through the blur, finally settling into a recognizable room.

Afternoon light filtered through curtains, casting everything in shades of gold and black. The room smelled of herbs and something floral, a scent that filled the air with a sweetness.

His body ached from the fight. The extensive trauma his body suffered from his fight with the Herald.

His muscles trembled with exhaustion despite having been still for what felt like an eternity, as if the mere act of remaining motionless had somehow depleted his reserves.

Bones ached with a deep, weariness that no amount of rest seemed capable of addressing. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. His brain itself was inflamed, swollen within his skull.

Jack attempted to move, and his body responded sluggishly, as if his connection to his own flesh had been severed and then hastily reattached.

His muscles obeyed his commands, but with a delay that indicated the neural pathways governing movement had been damaged and were slowly reestablishing their connections.

That’s when he felt it.

The weight shifted on his legs. Someone was sitting on his bed, positioned at his feet. The realization should have triggered an alarm, but his mind was still moving through molasses, processing information at half speed.

His body remained relatively motionless, allowing whoever was there to remain unaware that he had regained consciousness.

Jack’s eyes focused on the figure as she stirred.

Faye Vesper sat perched at the foot of his bed.

Her glossy pink lips curved upward in a satisfied smile. Her green eyes glowed with the soft luminescence of her divine nature, but more than that, they radiated unmistakable satisfaction, the kind of contentment that came from having accomplished something she had been wanting to do.

But it was what she was doing that registered with delayed clarity.

Her hand was raised to her mouth. Her index and middle fingers were positioned between her lips, and she was sucking on them with provocatively.

Her eyes remained locked on his as she withdrew the fingers slowly, her glossy lips glistening with moisture as they parted.

She drew her fingers out, then brought them to her mouth again, repeating the motion.

The implication crystallized through the fog of grogginess with the force of a physical blow.

Jack’s mind, still sluggish from whatever state his body had been in, suddenly accelerated. The pieces fell into place with uncomfortable clarity.

The way her white silk dress was slightly disheveled, the fabric wrinkled in places where it had been hastily adjusted.

The way her hair was mussed, strands falling across her face in a pattern that indicated she had been moving.

She had been active with something that required physical exertion.

The satisfied curve of her smile, not the bubbly, infectious enthusiasm he had seen before, but something satisfied. T

The fact that she had been sitting at the end of his bed, fingers in her mouth, clearly just finishing something.

The evidence compiled itself into an unavoidable conclusion.

“Good morning, sleepy!” Faye chirped, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she leaned forward. Her breasts swayed beneath the silk fabric as she moved, the motion drawing attention to the generous curves that the dress barely contained. “Well, good afternoon actually. You’ve been asleep for so long!”

Jack’s voice emerged hoarse, raw, as if his throat had been scraped clean by something abrasive. Speaking required concentration and effort. “How long?”

“A week!” Faye announced it with the kind of enthusiasm that made it genuinely good news, something to celebrate rather than regret.

She clapped her hands together with delight, her divine aura brightening slightly with her excitement. “One whole week of you being completely passed out and me taking care of you!”

The words hung in the air between them.

Seven days and nights. Jack attempted to piece together what had happened, searching through the haze of memory for clarity.

He remembered the Herald, the massive Emperor-rank dragon with its golden eyes and savage determination.

He recalled bidning Ren before he fought. He also recalled the decision to initiate the Madness state, a formidable and atypical progression of his usual consciousness.

And then… nothing.

Darkness.

Void.

An absence so complete it felt like death, or at least like whatever came before rebirth.

“I don’t remember anything after the Madness skill,” Jack said, his voice still rough. The admission felt necessary, a statement of fact rather than vulnerability.

He placed his hand on his chest, acknowledging the scarring across his ribs. This physical manifestation served as a reminder of the internal trauma sustained from Ren’s impact, from which his body was gradually recuperating.

Faye’s smile widened further, if such a thing was possible. The expression on her face shifted into something more complex and layered.

Delight mixed with possessive satisfaction, bubbly enthusiasm mixed with something far more sensual.

She shifted her weight, moving closer to him.

“You were so tired, hubby,” she said, her voice taking on a tone of affectionate possession that seemed to wrap around him.

“Your body was completely wrecked. I could feel how much pain you were in, even while you were unconscious. Your muscles were all tensed up, and your breathing was all labored. So I had to take care of you.”

She reached out and ran her fingers across his chest, tracing a line from his shoulder downward.

The touch was light, almost teasing, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake. Her expression shifted into something more vulnerable and intimate.

A blush spreading across her cheeks as she looked at him, her eyes lingering on the defined musculature of his chest. She let her fingers trail down to his abdomen, feeling the ripples of muscle beneath the scarred skin.

“Your body is so incredible,” she whispered, her eyes reflecting genuine awe mixed with something far more carnal.

“So strong. And the way you… I mean, when I was cleaning you, I noticed that you’re very…” She blushed deeper, her glossy lips curving into an embarrassed smile that somehow managed to be provocative at the same time, innocent and aware simultaneously. “…gifted.”

The implication was unmistakable, written in the way she touched him, in the satisfied expression she wore, in the nervous energy that she had been experiencing about this moment since it happened.

The timing, the positioning, the way she had been cleaning her mouth when he woke up. She had done more than just bathe him.