There was nothing but darkness.
Then came the panting. Deep, ragged gasps tearing through the void like someone drowning in open air. Each breath felt distant, as though it belonged to someone else entirely.
Cairo's eyes snapped open.
The panting was his own.
His chest heaved with desperate rhythm, pulling in air that never seemed enough. Confusion flooded his mind first, then concern. Why couldn't he breathe properly? What was happening? He tried to shift his body, to understand, to move.
Pain.
Sharp, searing, absolute pain exploded through him like lightning striking flesh. It radiated from his core outward, setting every nerve ablaze. A scream ripped from his throat, raw and primal, echoing in the emptiness around him.
"Gah... ahh..."
His hands clutched at something wet and warm. He looked down through vision blurred by agony and saw his palms pressed against his lower right abdomen, fingers slick with crimson. Trembling, he lifted his hands away.
A hole.
Not massive, but deep enough. Ragged edges of torn flesh surrounded a wound that pulsed with each frantic heartbeat, blood seeping steadily through the fabric of his shirt. The sight alone made his head spin, nausea rising in his throat.
He was dying.
But how? Why? The questions spiraled through his mind even as his body screamed in protest. He tried to piece together memories, to understand what led to this moment, but found only fragments and gaps. Nothing made sense.
Then he heard it.
A voice, cold and mechanical, resonating not in his ears but directly in his mind.
[HEALTH STATUS: CRITICAL]
[SEVERE ABDOMINAL TRAUMA DETECTED]
[BLOOD LOSS: EXCESSIVE]
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL DEATH: 2 HOURS, 0 MINUTES]
[IMMEDIATE MEDICAL INTERVENTION REQUIRED]
Two hours. One hundred twenty minutes between him and oblivion. The robotic declaration felt surreal, like something from a video game, but the blood soaking through his clothes was devastatingly real.
"Help..." His voice came out as barely a whisper. He swallowed, tasting copper, and tried again. "Help! Someone, please!"
Silence answered him.
Of course no one could hear. Why would they? He forced himself to focus through the haze of pain, scanning his surroundings. Concrete floors covered in dust and debris. Rusted metal beams supporting a ceiling with gaps that let in weak moonlight. Broken crates scattered throughout the vast space.
An abandoned warehouse.
He was alone.
"Help!" he called again, louder this time, desperation bleeding into his voice. "Anyone! Please!"
Nothing. Just the echo of his own plea bouncing off empty walls.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but Cairo gritted his teeth. He couldn't just lie here waiting for death. He had to move, had to find someone, anyone who could help. With trembling arms, he tried to push himself up.
His body refused.
The pain intensified, white hot and blinding. He collapsed back down with a gasp, tears streaming down his face. Another attempt. His muscles screamed in protest, his vision darkening at the edges.
"Come on... come on..."
Inch by agonizing inch, he managed to roll onto his side. Then to his hands and knees, one palm maintaining pressure on the wound while the other supported his weight. Blood dripped steadily onto the concrete below, forming a small pool that reflected the moonlight.
Standing proved even harder. His legs shook violently, threatening to give out with each second. But somehow, through sheer willpower and terror, Cairo forced himself upright. He swayed dangerously, catching himself against a nearby support beam.
"Help!" he shouted into the darkness. "Is anyone there?"
He stumbled forward, each step a monumental effort. His free hand reached out for walls and beams to steady himself while the other pressed against his abdomen, trying futilely to stem the flow of blood. The warehouse seemed to stretch on forever, but finally he spotted it ahead. An opening. A way out.
The night air hit him like a slap when he emerged. Cairo blinked, trying to focus his swimming vision. More warehouses surrounded him, identical structures forming what looked like an industrial district long since abandoned. No lights. No people. No salvation.
"Help..." His voice cracked. "Please... someone..."
He forced his legs to move, dragging himself between buildings. Every few steps he had to stop, leaning against brick walls or metal doors, gasping for breath that came in shorter and shorter bursts.
[HEALTH STATUS: CRITICAL]
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL DEATH: 56 MINUTES]
Fifty six minutes. He'd lost over an hour just getting this far. Cairo wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, but he needed every ounce of strength just to keep moving. One foot forward. Then the other. Again. Again.
"Help... anybody..."
Then he heard it.
A voice, low and slurred, mumbling words that barely formed coherent sentences. Cairo's heart leaped. Someone was there. Someone who could help him.
"Ayla... Skye... told you... didn't wanna drink..." The voice wavered, thick with the unmistakable heaviness of intoxication. "Why'd you... make me..."
Hope surged through Cairo despite his fading strength. He changed direction, stumbling toward the source of the voice. Around the corner of another warehouse. Through an alley strewn with trash and broken glass.
And then he saw her.
A young woman lay sprawled on the ground, her stylish blue and white dress hiked up around her waist. White hair spilled across the dirty concrete like freshly fallen snow, and even in his deteriorating state, Cairo couldn't help but notice how it seemed to catch what little light existed. Her eyes, a stunning crimson color, stared unfocused at nothing in particular.
But it was her exposed lower half that his gaze fixed on, not entirely by choice. Her dress had ridden up completely, revealing blue panties with a lighter blue ribbon adorning the front. The fabric clung to her form, leaving almost nothing to imagination, outlining every curve. Her body was... perfect. Slim yet curvaceous in all the right places, the kind of figure that could only be described as ideal.
Cairo shook his head, trying to clear it. What was he thinking? A woman was in trouble, clearly drunk and vulnerable, and he was... He forced himself to look at her face instead.
That's when recognition struck him like a physical blow.
Those features. That hair. Those eyes, even glazed as they were. He knew this face. Not from real life, but from hundreds of illustrations and descriptions. From countless hours spent reading.
"Eden... Brighthelm?"
The words came out as barely a whisper. Eden Brighthelm, one of the main heroines from Welcome To Hero Academia, the webnovel he'd been obsessed with. A descendant of legendary heroes, possessing overwhelming magical power that made her one of the strongest characters in the entire story.
What was she doing here? How was she real? How could he see her, touch her, exist in the same space as her?
Then the pain reminded him of its presence, sharp and insistent. His knees buckled and he caught himself against the wall, leaving a bloody handprint on the bricks.
[HEALTH STATUS: CRITICAL]
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL DEATH: 43 MINUTES]
Forty three minutes. The walk here, the shock of recognition, it had all cost him precious time. Cairo's breathing grew more labored. His vision darkened around the edges, tunnel vision closing in. He was going to die here, in an alley next to a drunk girl who happened to look exactly like a fictional character.
Then another message appeared, different from the previous warnings.
[SURVIVAL PATH OPTIMIZED]
[ANALYZING ENVIRONMENTAL FACTORS]
[SOLUTION IDENTIFIED]
[INITIATING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL]
Cairo's heart raced as he waited for whatever information the system would provide. Some miracle cure? Directions to a hospital? A magical healing spell?
[SURVIVAL CONDITION: ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH DESIGNATED INDIVIDUAL]
[TARGET: EDEN BRIGHTHELM]
[TIME LIMIT: 43 MINUTES]
[FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN DEATH]
[COMPLIANCE WILL RESTORE HEALTH TO OPTIMAL LEVELS]
He stared at the message, certain he'd misread it. That the blood loss had caused hallucinations. That his dying brain was playing some sick joke.
Sex? That was the solution? Having intercourse with Eden right now would save his life?
"That's... that's impossible," he muttered, his voice hollow. "That can't be real."
But the wound in his abdomen was real. The blood soaking his clothes was real. The system messages had been accurate about everything else. What if this was real too?
What if this was his only chance?
Cairo looked at Eden again, still sprawled unconscious on the ground. She had no idea what was happening. She couldn't consent to anything in her current state. What the system was suggesting, no, demanding, was rape. Pure and simple.
He couldn't do that. He wasn't that kind of person. Even if his life depended on it, even if she was just a character from a webnovel somehow made real, he couldn't violate another person like that.
Could he?
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL DEATH: 39 MINUTES]
Thirty nine minutes. His hands shook violently now, barely able to maintain pressure on his wound. His legs threatened to give out entirely. The world spun and tilted, gravity seeming to shift randomly.
He was going to die.
Die here, in a filthy alley, bleeding out alone in a world he didn't understand.
Unless...
Cairo's gaze drifted back to Eden. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths. She looked peaceful despite her vulnerable position. Completely unaware of the moral crisis unfolding beside her.
His life or her dignity.
His survival or her autonomy.
What kind of choice was that? What kind of monster would he become if he chose himself?
But what kind of fool would choose death when salvation lay within reach?
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL DEATH: 35 MINUTES]
His vision blurred. Not from tears this time, but from blood loss. He was running out of time to make a choice. Running out of time to do anything.
Cairo looked around the alley, searching desperately for any other option, any other person who might help. The area remained as deserted as before. Just him and Eden and the system message glowing in his mind.
He made his decision.
Forgive me.
With the last reserves of his strength, Cairo dragged himself toward Eden's prone form. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through his body, but he pushed through it. He had to. His life depended on it.
He positioned himself between her legs, hands trembling as they moved to part them further. The blue fabric of her panties seemed to glow in the dim light. His fingers brushed against the smooth skin of her inner thigh.
This was really happening.
He was really going to do this.
His hands moved toward the waistband of her panties, preparing to remove the final barrier between him and survival.