Reincarnated as a Mushroom?

Caleb reclined in his command chair like a pirate king on a discount throne, one boot propped on the surveillance console, a lukewarm bottle of synthetic cherry-root fizzing in his hand. Officially, this network was designed for ship security—used to catch mercs trying to seduce Kathrine's absurdly attractive cleaning staff.

Unofficially, it had become Caleb's new reality TV station.

Specifically, he was tuned into Channel 12: The Training Hall. Featuring a lone, violet-haired man moving like a ghost through the sword kata, his blade slicing air with preternatural precision. If war had a dance, this was the choreography—swift, brutal, elegant.

"Spirit of fucking war," Caleb muttered, admiring the fluid arcs and tempo shifts.

He wasn't exactly a slouch himself—years of formal dueling, knife-play, and space-fencing under his belt. Yet watching Irvine move made something ancient in Caleb's ego twitch.

"Eh, I'd still kick his arse," Caleb said, mostly to convince himself. "Too young to be better than me. That's illegal."

The door hissed open without warning.

"HEY!" Caleb shouted, nearly falling out of his chair. "You knock before entering a man's quarters! I could be balls-deep in a bottle of lotion and a fantasy!"

Then he saw her. "Oh. Kathrine. Sup, buttercup?"

Kathrine didn't so much respond as loom, her presence coalescing like an oncoming migraine.

"Call me 'buttercup' again, and I'll turn your sorry prick into a paperweight. A retractable one."

"Noted," Caleb said, straightening. "Spicy today. So, to what do I owe the threat?"

She sighed like his existence was a chronic condition. "Irvine's requesting a private room. He's been bunking with me since we got here, and while he's made no complaint, he keeps muttering about privacy."

Caleb arched an eyebrow and grinned. "Already tired of drilling you? Either he's a monk or you're a fucking corpse in bed."

Kathrine's hand drifted to the pistol holstered at her thigh with the casualness of a woman considering genocide.

"One more remark and I swear to every god and void spirit, I'll tear your jaw off and use it to stir my tea."

Caleb raised both hands, still reclined. "Alright, alright. No need to go full Empress Executioner. There's a room next to mine—been locked up for a while, so have your people clean it out. Should be functional."

Kathrine nodded and turned to leave, but Caleb stopped her with a flick of his fingers and a sideways smirk. "By the way... where'd you find this guy?"

She paused. He gestured at the screen again.

"I mean, really. Is he ex-special forces? A fugitive demigod? One of yours from the family vaults? I could probably still take him—barely—but damn."

Kathrine snorted. "Right. You could take him. Just like I could bench press a dreadnought."

She leaned in slightly. "Where I found him is none of your concern. What is your concern is the mission. Is everything ready?"

Caleb's face morphed in an instant—playboy gone warlord. Eyes sharp. Voice crisp.

"Yes. Intel confirms Coalition probes have been sniffing near the planet. They likely won't interfere—it's not aligned territory, and they prefer discretion. Unless they sniff the artifact. Then they'll toss their morality into a black hole and throw fire."

"You were right about using mercs only. Keeps the risk profile... plausible."

Kathrine still didn't know how Caleb could switch personalities like a schizophrenic mood-ring, but she appreciated the competence when it showed up. "Good. Keep me informed. And stop perving on Irvine. He's strong, yes, but unlike you, he doesn't crow about it every three minutes."

Caleb chuckled. "Ooooh, the lady's smitten. Poor husband's been cuckolded by a man three lifetimes her junior."

"Shut your cockhole, you sentient toenail. That pathetic, cuntless husband of mine can go shove his Sepiidan glory hole until he dies from dehydration. He gave me my twins and I owe him nothing else."

She stormed out, red-faced and muttering.

Caleb leaned back and laughed. "Ah, she's in deep. Heh. I remember when I had that effect. The bitches couldn't stop sniffing my pheromones."

—

Having thoroughly massacred the air in a mock duel against Imaginary Kimchi, I wiped sweat from my neck and collarbone, letting it soak into the towel like a penance.

"Feels weird not having her lick it all off," I murmured to no one. A half-smile curved my lips at the memory of Kimchi's enthusiastic post-spar rituals.

"Enmeshed. Yeah. I miss my chaos crew."

It had been just over a day, and I was already going stir-crazy. Being separated from Crystal was manageable only because Kimchi and Onyx were there. Now, though, I was solo—and Onyx couldn't safely manifest until we secured a private room. Kiya's core hummed at my side in her containment necklace.

"You want a rubdown?" I whispered.

The gem quivered, visibly restraining the urge to levitate in joy.

I took that as a yes.

—

Thanks to Caleb's lack of filter, Kathrine now had Irvine's location. She dispatched her staff to clean the new room and made her way to the training hall.

As she passed through the ship, mercs turned to look.

Some female. Some male. All with varying degrees of jealousy.

And Kathrine knew exactly what they were jealous of—and held her head higher for it. Nobility had its perks. So did choosing the right cock to obsess over.

When she arrived at the hall, she paused in the doorway.

I was seated, back to her, arm moving in a steady rhythm.

Her eyes narrowed.

Was I... was I jerking it?

"I mean—bold move, masturbating in public," she said with a teasing curl in her voice. "But if you're that pent up, darling, you can always use my mouth again."

I turned in my chair with a lazy grin, revealing that I was oiling Kiya's haptic containment housing.

The realization hit her like a railgun to the pride.

"Oh fuck—oh no—never mind—I thought—gah!"

She turned to flee, face nearly glowing red.

"Hold up, pretty lady."

She paused mid-flee.

"Come here. Sit. We need to talk."

Blushing, flustered, flayed by her own assumptions, she dragged a chair over and plopped into it with a little too much force.

I leaned forward, voice even. "Look. I appreciate your attention. Your charm. Your hunger. I'm not blind."

She opened her mouth, but I held up a finger.

"That said—I don't fuck on impulse. Not constantly. I don't use sex as a crutch for intimacy. If I sleep with someone, it's because I choose it, not because I need it."

Her eyes searched mine, serious now.

"Once or twice a week is plenty. Enough to keep it from going stale. More than that... it loses taste. If that's something you can work with, then—"

I smirked.

"Get on your knees and suck me dry. I might just reward you later."

Kathrine's brain rebooted.

By the time she realized what was happening, she was already between my legs, hands rising toward my belt.

Then came the fucking intercom.

"As much as I'd love to let this porn scene play out," Caleb's voice rang out, "we've been yanked out of warp by military patrol. Inspection incoming. Everyone report to the loading bay. Oh, and Kathrine? 10/10, no notes."

Kathrine resisted the urge to shoot the intercom.

Instead, she let out a low, primal groan and rested her forehead against my thigh.

"Don't worry," I whispered, brushing her cheek.

She leaned into it.

Then I grabbed a fistful of her crimson hair and yanked.

Her breath caught.

I leaned in. "I'll still give you that reward later."

I pulled my shirt on, casual as ever.

She stayed kneeling, staring wistfully at the chair I'd vacated like it had whispered her true name.

"Kathrine?"

"Huh? Oh—peachy. Just soaked my suit a bit. Can you help me up?"

'As bold as Kimchi,' I thought. 'With ten times the social training.'

"Here, hot stuff," I said, offering my hand.

—

Quick change. New clothes. Fresh lipstick. Then we were striding together down toward the loading bay.

"Seriously," I muttered. "I've only been in warp twice and both times we've been pulled out. Am I cursed?"

Kathrine shook her head. "Hardly. This ship's military class. Routine checks. Probably a weapons inspection."

"Great. Be right back."

I sprinted off and made for Kathrine's quarters. With a mental nudge, the alien armor melded over my right arm in a ripple of silk-metal. It didn't reach my hand, leaving me still presentable.

I returned just as the loading doors cracked open, revealing the inspection crew.

My eyes narrowed.

"This place looks... familiar."

And not in a good way.

---

Author's Note: A Heartfelt Message from Me to You

Hey lovely reader,

Before you scroll away or dive into another story, I just want to take a moment to speak straight from my heart. If you made it this far into my story, then you are truly something special. Your time, your emotions, your thoughts and those few minutes you gave me mean more than I could ever explain. Writing is not just words on a page for me. It is a heartbeat. It is a dream. And seeing you here means I am not dreaming alone.

If you smiled, cried, gasped, or even got mad while reading, then I have done my job. And if you felt something — even the tiniest bit — I would love to ask you for a tiny favor that would mean the absolute world to me. Would you please vote for this story?

I know it might sound like a small thing. Just a little click. But to a writer like me, that click is louder than thunder. That click says, I believe in you. That click pushes me to write better, love harder, and keep building the world you are falling into.

Your vote is not just a number. It is a hug. It is a cheer. It is the light at the end of my most frustrating writing nights. Sometimes I stare at the screen and wonder if anyone out there truly cares. But then I see a vote, a kind comment, or a little heart and suddenly everything feels possible again.

So please, if you enjoyed even a single chapter or if you want to see where this story leads, drop a vote. I am not too proud to beg. I am literally down on my knees — in my imagination of course — holding out my hands like a character in a romantic drama and whispering with puppy eyes, Please vote.

Thank you so much for reading. For caring. For being part of this journey. Every vote is like a tiny wish, and together we can make magic.

With love and a whole lot of hope,

Your ever-grateful author