Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

Chapter 290

"What?" she repeated, staring at him as though he had just personally insulted several generations of her bloodline. "That’s seriously what you’re opening with?"He frowned, crossing his arms. "I asked a simple question."

"Yes. A terrible one."

"How is that a terrible question?"

Ingrid lowered her wrist, the holographic display winking out as she straightened up from the pillar. Her sharp eyes narrowed dynamically. "You walk up to me after not seeing me properly all day, and the very first thing out of your mouth is a question about another girl?"

Zaeryn stared at her for a second, processing the sheer absurdity of the logic. Then he let out a defeated sigh. "We did see each other today."

Ingrid’s expression sharpened into a dangerous challenge. "When, exactly?"

"This morning. You woke me up with a holo-call."

"That does not count."

"It absolutely counts. One second I was sound asleep. The next, I wasn’t. Entirely because of you."

"That is remote communication, Zaeryn. Not seeing each other in person."

"You saw me through the feed."

"In terrible apartment lighting, barely conscious, and looking like someone had just dragged you out of a fresh grave."

"That’s still me."

"No," Ingrid said, stepping smoothly into his personal space until she was standing mere inches away. "That’s just a tragic preview."

Zaeryn didn’t argue about it. He had learned enough about the women in this world to recognize which battles were worth fighting. This was not one of them.

Ingrid seemed to recognize his immediate surrender, because the mock-offended tension vanished from her face, replaced by something much warmer, possessive, and infinitely more dangerous.

"You didn’t even ask how I was doing," she murmured, her voice dropping an octave.

Zaeryn rolled his eyes, looking away in mild annoyance. "How are you?"

"Too late."

Zaeryn looked down at her. She looked right back up at him, her eyes dancing with wicked satisfaction.

Then, before he could calculate whether apologizing would actually help or just dig his grave a little deeper, Ingrid closed the remaining distance. She looped both arms around his neck, pulling herself up.

Zaeryn tensed for half a heartbeat out of pure instinct, but then her mouth was flat against his.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was warm, deeply assertive, and just playful enough to let her pretend it was a punishment rather than an expression of affection. Her fingers curled tightly into the hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring him down as she claimed his lips like she had been owed this tribute since dawn and was fully intent on collecting with interest.

Zaeryn exhaled a quiet breath through his nose, yielding to the rhythm, and felt Ingrid smile against his mouth.

Then she bit his lower lip.

It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood or cause real pain, but it carried just enough pressure to make a distinct point.

Zaeryn pulled back slightly, his head tilting as he gave her a dry look. "Was the teeth part entirely necessary?"

"Yes. Consider it payback for not saying hello properly." She leaned back just enough to keep him cornered within her arms. "Or for failing to come find me during your midday break."

"I tried," Zaeryn explained, defending his honor. "But Genevieve told me you were still locked in a practical weaving seminar."

Ingrid rolled her eyes lightly, though her grip didn’t loosen. "You could’ve still walked over to the lecture hall just to wait by the door and say hello."

Zaeryn raised a hand, rubbing his thumb gently across his lower lip where the faint sting of her bite still lingered. Ingrid’s gaze tracked the movement with completely shameless satisfaction.

"Better," she decided.

"Right. Moving back to the original topic—where is Leia?" he asked.

Before Ingrid could weigh whether she wanted to give him a real answer, a familiar, flat voice cut through the ambient chatter of the corridor right behind them.

"There you are, anomaly."

Zaeryn turned his head.

Leia was marching toward them, carrying the distinct air of someone who hadn’t been searching for him so much as simply arriving at the exact coordinate she intended to occupy. Her uniform was meticulously neat, her silver hair perfectly held in place, and her gaze flicked dispassionately from Ingrid’s arms draped over his shoulders down to Zaeryn’s slightly red mouth.

"We’re leaving, anomaly," Leia stated, stopping a few paces short. "My house."

She delivered the phrase like a decree that had already cleared every level of high military authority, leaving his personal opinion entirely irrelevant to the equation.

"No, today we’re doing the session at my house," Zaeryn countered, digging his heels in purely on principle. Letting Leia order him around without pushback was a habit he had firmly decided not to encourage.

"No. I am not going to your quarters, anomaly," Leia said simply. Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and began walking away.

Zaeryn opened his mouth to refuse out of spite, but then the memory of her mother flashed through his mind. Her mom was actually incredibly nice—a rare, gentle contrast to the rest of the high-strung military elite that had completely caught him off guard during his first visit.

He let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping. "Fine."

Zaeryn gently tapped Ingrid’s wrists where her arms were still hooked around his neck. "I’ll see you later."

"Sure..." Ingrid purred, letting her hands slide slowly down his chest before releasing him entirely. "Maybe Genevieve and I can swing by Leia’s place later this evening. We can work on our collaborative combat project there."

"That’s actually a good idea," Zaeryn said, nodding.

Ingrid leaned in one last time, pressing a shorter, punchy kiss to his lips before stepping back. She reached out, smoothing the wrinkled lapels of his uniform jacket with the careful, deliberate expression of someone maintaining property that already belonged to her.

Zaeryn turned around to follow, but Leia was already nowhere to be seen. He shook his head and quickened his pace, tracking her signature out of the main academic block.

He finally caught up with her outside as they crossed into the open-air plaza leading toward the transport wing. The afternoon sun was slanting sharply through the massive structural pillars of the upper Citadel, stretching their long shadows across the polished bedrock flooring.

Leia glanced sideways at him as they walked. Then she stopped entirely, turning her full body to glare at him with a look of profound annoyance.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded. "You look completely exhausted."

"I am," Zaeryn admitted, not bothering to hide the fatigue dragging at his limbs. He hadn’t slept anywhere near enough. Despite heading to bed remarkably early the night before, his peace had been entirely shattered when Aeris and Ravena decided to violently demand his attention. They had kept him awake through the absolute worst hours of the night, leaving him to finally drift off right before dawn, only to be dragged awake an hour later to drag himself to the Lyceum.

Leia scoffed, turning back to continue her march. "I am entirely unsurprised. Typical frail male biology."

"And you are deeply annoying," he muttered, matching her stride. He was in absolutely no mood to tolerate her sweeping evolutionary lectures today.

Leia didn’t even bother to offer a retort. She just kept moving forward, her pace entirely unbothered, as if his complaint had simply failed to register against her armor.

They crossed the remaining distance to the transport terminal in a dense, heavy silence. Leia wasn’t the type of person who required conversational pleasantries to make a quiet moment feel comfortable, or even neutral.

Walking with her usually just felt like waiting for the next deployment order.

He glanced sideways at her profile anyway, his gaze lingering on her face a fraction longer than it probably should have.

"Why are your eyes always changing color?" he asked out of nowhere.

Leia didn’t turn her head, her gaze fixed straight ahead on the docking bays.

She didn’t answer him. The silence was so awkward, forcing Zaeryn to continue.

"Your eyes," he pressed, tilting his head slightly as if trying to force the detail into better focus. "Sometimes they’re a solid, cold steel gray. Sometimes they’re a deep green. It’s not a one-time thing either; I’ve been noticing the shift for weeks now." He paused, searching his memory. "A lot of warlady’s do something similar, don’t they? Changes theirs depending on mood. Or on purpose, if they want to throw someone off."

"It is entirely none of your business," she snapped.

"I’ve already worked out the internal pattern, though," he said, keeping his voice carefully level, almost bored, as if he were reading off a standard inventory manifest rather than a detail he’d spent significant time analyzing. "They turn gray when you’re angry. More specifically, when you’re furious but trying your absolute hardest not to let it show on your face." He cast a deliberate look down at her. "And they’re green the rest of the time. Like right now."

Leia’s mouth curled into a sharp, unimpressed line. "Fascinating. You are a true biological genius."

"I know you’re trying to be deeply sarcastic, but yes. I am a genius, actually."

"Every stupid male harbors that exact delusion about himself."

Zaeryn let out a dry laugh. "You really just despise the entire male gender, don’t you?"

"I have never actually met a male," she said quietly. She didn’t look at him, her voice remaining perfectly cold, almost detached from her own honesty. "Before you." A heavy silence passed between them as they neared the transport cruiser. "So no. I do not hate males." After another pause she said. "Just you. Now shut up."

’What an unbearable bi... person. She comes more unbearable the more I know her.’ Zaeryn said in his heart. But on the outside he stayed quiet, letting the weight of the statement hang in the air for a second longer than it naturally should have.

They reached the cruiser. The doors opened, and before going inside, Zaeryn stopped and looked at the soft emerald hue currently reflecting in her irises under the afternoon glare.

"I like your green eyes more," Zaeryn said, offering the compliment purely because he knew it would disrupt her composure and annoy her.

Leia’s head whipped around sharply, her eyes flashing wide. Whatever cold, military distance had been sitting quietly in her expression a second ago vanished instantly, replaced by a raw, startled alarm.

"Don’t ever do that again," she hissed, her voice dropping into a harsh whisper.

Zaeryn blinked. He had expected her to push back, but still he was surprised by the intensity of the pushback. "Do what?"

"That." She was still glaring at him, "Don’t compliment me. Ever again."

"I say what I want Leia." Zaeryn said.

Leia glared at him.

They had reached the cruiser, Zaeryn said, "Alright, let’s go. Although I’m tired today, don’t blame me if I fall asleep on your settee."

"You better stay awake," she said. "Wait for me, I need to get my hoverbike." She said and walked away.

Zaeryn watched her, and then he climbed into the cruiser alone, the doors sealing behind him with the familiar low hiss he barely registered anymore.

Mireille was already seated up front.

"Leia’s bringing her own ride," Zaeryn said. "Can you open the cargo bay for her? She’ll need somewhere to put the bike."

Mireille didn’t answer right away, though that was nothing new. She reached forward and pressed something on the console, and somewhere behind them he heard the low mechanical groan of the bay doors sliding open.

She nodded once. It was answer enough.

Zaeryn settled into his seat. He closed his eyes.

"You look like you didn’t sleep well." Arya remarked, seated across from him.

"Yeah, kind of." Zaeryn admitted.

Some time later, the cargo bay sealed shut again with a heavy, final-sounding clunk, and Leia stepped through into the main cabin a moment after, her expression as unreadable as it usually was when she wasn’t actively trying to make a point of something.

"Okay." Zaeryn glanced between the two of them. "We can leave now."

Mireille nodded again and eased the cruiser off the ground.

They’d barely cleared the landing pad before the comm on his wrist chimed, a soft insistent pulse he felt more than heard. He glanced down, and a small holographic projection flickered to life above his forearm.

’High Commander Lysara requests your presence in her chamber. Immediately.’

Zaeryn stared at it for a second.