Chapter 3: A Paradise

Jaenor’s pov:

The door to my home creaks shut behind me as I step into the crisp morning air.

“Wear your coat, Jaenor.” I could hear my mother yell as I walked towards the path.

“I did,” I reply to her. Though I don’t know if she heard me.

Thinking about her makes me grin like an idiot. She was so enticing this morning. I wish I could lie naked with her all day long.

My thoughts were interrupted by a female voice.

“Little Jaenor, where are you off to?”

I turned to look at the left side, a woman in her middle ages, but still looking like a MILF. Her tall frame with those giant boobs was so captivating. Her black hair with a silver shade was braided behind her back, glistening in the sunlight.

“I am headed to the tavern, Granny,” I said as I watched her move towards me.

I was standing in front of their house.

As she approached me, I could only stare at her jiggling bosom. Her low-cut blouse revealed too much of those appetising melons.

“If you see Taeryn, tell him to come home; otherwise, he will get a beating from me,” she said and then gave me an apple. She turned back to her house and walked to the door.

I stood there, watching her waist sway like a dancing snake charming its prey. Her rump, even beneath the gown, I could see the exact shape. Argh!! If only I could get inside her gown.

She suddenly turned back to see me and noticed where I was looking at.

A smile crossed her lips as she winked at me.

Maybe I will bang her sooner than I thought.

My breath formed clouds in front of my face, dancing away on the winter breeze. I tugged my fur-lined cloak tighter around my shoulders.

Another day in paradise, I thought with a smirk, casting a glance back at the house where Rosa—my “mother” in this world—was likely still straightening the furs on my bed, erasing evidence of our morning activities.

The village of Forstvale spread before me, a collection of wooden and stone structures nestled against the backdrop of towering mountains. Smoke rose from chimneys in lazy spirals, and the constant sound of the river provided a soothing backdrop to the bustle of daily life.

Children darted between houses, engaged in some game involving a lot of shouting and snowballs. Merchants called out their wares in the small market square ahead.

I set off toward the village centre, where The Rushing Stag tavern served as the heart of local social life.

My boots crunched through the snow as I walked, nodding greetings to villagers who called out to “young Garrick’s.”

If only they knew the truth.

The goddess sure gave me a good life here in this world. I couldn’t help but feel satisfied with my situation. Before my reincarnation, I’d been nobody special—just another corporate drone spiralling into self-destruction.

Now I was special.

Chosen.

And with benefits that made me want to laugh out loud sometimes.

Yes, I got reincarnated into this world.

This world, though it seemed disadvantageous to me at first glance, was actually perfect for my particular skills.

A world where men were subjugated, where they couldn’t access the magical energy that permeated everything—mana, they called it. A world where that imbalance had created a society dominated by women who wielded that power with impunity.

I couldn’t understand how women could be the only ones to wield magic. According to the local beliefs, men’s bodies simply weren’t designed to channel mana. Some said it was the goddess’ will, a punishment for men’s arrogance in ancient times.

Others claimed it was simply natural law, like the fact that men couldn’t bear children. Whatever the reason, men attempting to use magic was considered not just impossible but taboo—a perversion of the natural order.

When the goddess had told me I was some chosen one, some “pathbreaker,” I’d initially thought it would be a burden.

Just my luck to be dropped into a fantasy world only to become some reluctant hero. But then she’d explained the benefits—that I could absorb mana through intimate contact with women, growing stronger with each encounter.

I had jumped at the opportunity without hesitation. Who wouldn’t?

It was like something straight out of those dual cultivation novels I’d read in my previous life—trashy web fiction about cultivators who gained power through sex.

Never thought I’d be living that fantasy, but here I was. And the best part? I could get laid as much as I wanted, all while convincing myself it was for a noble purpose.

I stepped around a cart being loaded with winter vegetables, careful to avoid its owner—a stern-faced woman with the tell-tale shimmer of mana around her fingers as she effortlessly lifted crates that would require two men to move.

Another reminder of how things worked here.

The women in this world, they really were dominant—almost aggressive about it sometimes. Even the ones without significant magical talent carried themselves with the ingrained confidence of those born to rule. They walked with straight backs and direct gazes, while most men hunched slightly, eyes downcast in deference.

I hated that part.

Even if women had all the magical power, why bother men who were just trying to live normal lives? The dynamics here were skewed beyond reason in some cases.

I’d seen men step off pathways to let women pass, witnessed male craftsmen being paid less than female ones for identical work, and observed how men weren’t permitted to participate in village councils unless specifically invited by a woman.

Too much female domination here, if you asked me.

Even in households, women had more say than men. The structure of family life reflected the broader social hierarchy—women made the important decisions, controlled the finances, and determined children’s futures. Men provided labour, companionship, and occasionally advice—if their wives were the type to listen.

Yet my “mother” was different.

Rosa might appear to outsiders as a typical Forstvale wife, deferring to Garrick in public as custom demanded. But behind closed doors, our relationship had revealed her true nature—a woman desperate for someone who saw her as more than a superior being, someone who challenged her rather than cowered.

She was my woman now, in every sense that mattered. The taboo nature of our relationship only made it more exciting for both of us. I knew how to touch her, how to speak to her, how to make her forget the power dynamics that defined her world. And each time I did, I felt that subtle transfer of energy—mana flowing from her body into mine, strengthening me in ways I was only beginning to understand.

The tavern came into view as I rounded the corner of the blacksmith’s shop. The Rushing Stag was a two-story building with large windows and intricate carvings around its doorframe depicting the animal for which it was named. Even at this hour, I could see movement inside—travellers having breakfast, locals gathering to exchange news before starting their day’s work.

I paused for a moment, looking up at the mountains that surrounded Forstvale. Somewhere beyond those peaks lay the wider world, with larger cities and more powerful female witches. Women whose mana reserves would make Rosa’s seem like a candle beside a bonfire.

Women who, if the goddess was to be believed, could help me grow far stronger than what this village could offer.

But for now, I’d content myself with what Forstvale provided—a comfortable life, a woman who desired me, and the beginnings of power that no man in this world was supposed to possess. I had time to explore, to learn, and to grow stronger before revealing myself.

After all, the best manipulators know that patience is the ultimate weapon. And manipulation was what I did best.

With that thought, I pushed open the door to The Rushing Stag, greeted by the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat, ready to continue playing my role in this fascinating new world—at least until I was powerful enough to rewrite its rules.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep