"Really?"
Her voice sounded almost amused.
"You're saying you spoke to gods?"
The knife slid slowly across his throat. It didn't cut him, but the cold metal pressed just enough to remind him how easily it could.
Kal swallowed.
"Yes," he said softly. "I'm telling the truth. I can tell you what I know… if you let me live."
"Then speak."
She pushed the blade harder against his skin. "Tell me about the blessing. Tell me everything."
Her knee pressed down on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs.
"That's the problem," he rasped. "Why do you think I didn't fight back?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"I can't remember." His voice shook even though he tried to stay calm. "I barely remember anything. That's why I couldn't fight you."
She leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
A dry laugh left her mouth.
"Haaa… haaa… You little brat. Do you think I'm stupid? You expect me to believe whatever nonsense you say?"
"If I were lying," he whispered, staring into her cold eyes, "would I still be alive?"
She paused.
Just for a moment.
The knife stayed in place , but she leaned back slightly. Her grip loosened a little.
Silence grew heavy between them.
"If you think I'm lying," Kal continued carefully, choosing each word like stepping on landmines, "you can kill me anytime. I won't fight back. But until my memories return… help me."
Her eyes sharpened.
"Help you?" she repeated.
"Teach me how to fight. If I'm useless, kill me. If I lie, kill me. But if what I said is true… I could be useful."
It wasn't fear in his voice.
It was a bargain.
For a second, he saw calculation in her eyes.
She pulled the knife away from his throat
but she did not put it away.
"You're either the stupidest liar I've ever met," she said quietly, "or something interesting."
She stood up.
Kal slowly sat up too, still kneeling.
"You can stay," she said without looking at him. "Until your memories return."
Relief almost escaped him.
Then...
Her boot slammed into his stomach.
Air burst from his lungs. He folded forward, gasping.
Before he could collapse, she grabbed his chin and forced his face up. Her fingers dug painfully into his jaw.
"If you try anything foolish," she whispered, her voice now cold and empty, "I won't kill you quickly."
Her eyes were so close he could see his own terrified reflection in them.
"Understood?"
He nodded weakly.
She let go.
"What's your name?"
"…Kal," he coughed.
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen " kal still holding his stomach.
She turned away.
"Clare," she said as she began walking.
He hesitated for only a second before hurrying after her.
They walked through the forest in silence.
The trees slowly became thinner.
Concrete began to appear between the roots and soil, spreading like disease through flesh.
Clare didn't look back when she spoke, almost as if talking to herself.
"I'll test him," she murmured quietly. "If he's completely useless, I'll kill him. If not… he can join."
She paused.
"I'll inform the boss."
The forest ended suddenly.
And a city rose before them like an illusion.
Glass towers pierced the sky , sharp, artificial, proud. Golden lights reflected on mirrored buildings. Huge screens wrapped around skyscrapers, showing advertisements of wealth, perfection, and desire.
It looked like a city built from pure ambition.
Bridges curved over artificial canals. Luxury cars moved silently along magnetic roads. Holograms shimmered above public squares. The skyline glittered like a crown.
Kal stared.
"Where are we?" he whispered.
Clare didn't answer.
Instead of walking toward the shining center, she turned away.
Toward the shadows.
As they walked deeper, the shine faded.
The towers still stood above , but underneath them, decay lived.
They entered a district pressed against luxury like a stain that couldn't be removed.
Concrete buildings stacked carelessly. Rusted staircases. Flickering lights.
People sat against walls, eyes empty, fingers endlessly scrolling on glowing phones.
Drugs.
Cheap synthetic smoke filled the air.
Somewhere in a narrow alley, girls screamed , not playful screams.
Sharp. Afraid.
A man laughed too loudly. Another vomited near a broken vending machine.
The air smelled of sweat, chemicals, and hopelessness.
Kal slowed down.
"What is this place?" he asked quietly. "Why are we here? Is this some kind of..."
Clare stopped.
She didn't fully turn , just enough for one eye to look at him.
That was enough.
He immediately stopped talking.
He followed again, whispering to himself.
"She's part of something. A cult? A gang? Is she going to kill me?"
"No… she won't."
"She wants information."
"She'll test me first."
"A trial."
"She won't believe me without proof."
"I know it."
"I don't have a choice."
"If I stay with her, maybe I'll be safe… for now."
"And when I become strong enough
I'll run."
That thought gave him a small sense of control.
Above them, golden towers shone.
Below, in the choking darkness of the slums, something watched.
And Kal realized something frightening.
A tall building stood alone.
Outside, people adjusted their clothes. Some women fixed their blouse straps, hair loose and messy.
"Clare," he stopped in front of the building, looking at the flickering streetlights.
"It's Miss Clare for you, brat," she said slowly, turning toward him.
His hands were clenched nervously. "I don't like this place. Please… let's go."
She walked toward him. He stepped back.
She grabbed his jacket. "Have you been touched yet?"
Is she asking if I'm a virgin?
No. She's asking about Kal.
"Answer me, brat," she shook him.
"Yes! I'm a virgin. Please, let's go!" Sweat rolled down his forehead.
"Good. Then today is your lucky day. Let's see what wins , your mind or your body. If you pass this test, I'll accept you."
She dragged him toward the building.
"Please wait, Miss Clare! I don't want to... please!" He tried to pull her hand away, but he was too weak.
They descended the stairs as the light slowly disappeared.
Inside, there were many doors.
Kal could hear women screaming , not in pain, but in pleasure.
His throat dried. His voice wouldn't come out. His heart felt like it would tear apart.
"Alright. Good luck," she said, pushing him into a room and locking the door from outside.
"Miss Clare! Please let me go! I'm begging you!" He hit the door desperately.
No answer.
"Please… have mercy." His knees gave out.
"Are you crying, boy?" A soft voice came from behind him.
He froze. "Who's there?"
The lights turned on.
Three women stood inside.
"Don't worry," one said with a smile. "Soon you'll cry tears of joy."
The room was carefully prepared.
Soft lighting. Heavy curtains. Sweet incense in the air.
The women were not young girls. They were calm. Experienced. Confident , like predators who know their prey cannot escape.
He looked at them once.
Late twenties. Beautiful. Controlled smiles.
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
"It doesn't matter."
"I lived twenty-three years as a woman. This body is just a shell."
The door was still Locked.
One woman stepped closer.
His heartbeat quickened.
That wasn't fear.
Another step.
The scent in the air grew heavier. Warm. Intoxicating.
His pulse started pounding , not from danger.
His breathing became shallow.
"No."
He stood straight.
"This is pointless," he said calmly.
They didn't argue.
They simply came closer.
A hand brushed his sleeve.
His skin reacted instantly.
Heat rushed through his veins without permission.
His muscles tightened.
His thoughts stumbled.
"Why?"
The reaction grew stronger.
Unwanted.
Unfamiliar.
But clearly real.
His fingers trembled.
"This body…"
One woman moved behind him and whispered near his ear.
His breath broke.
Something inside him responded automatically.
His mind rejected it.
His body did not.
It felt like being torn apart.
"I am not..." he tried to speak.
But his words broke into uneven breathing.
They surrounded him.
Not forceful.
Not yet.
But intentional.
His body betrayed him further.
Heat. Blood rushing. A reaction he couldn't control.
Tears filled his eyes.
Outside, Clare listened silently.
He stepped back until the wall stopped him.
"You don't need to be nervous," one woman said gently.
He shook his head.
"This isn't me."
They misunderstood.
Hands touched his shoulders lightly.
But the effect was overwhelming.
His pulse exploded.
Control slipped further.
"No."
The word cracked.
"Please… no."
His voice shook , not from shyness.
From panic.
The body was winning.
He tore away and rushed into the washroom, locking the door.
He collapsed against the sink.
Cold water.
Again.
Again.
Again.
It didn't help.
He stared at the mirror.
A young man stared back ,flushed, breathing hard.
Something in his lower body throbbed insistently.
Demanding.
Humiliating.
"I am not this."
But the reflection didn't listen.
The pressure didn't stop.
He tried to force it down.
Command it.
It refused.
Tears slipped down.
He felt trapped inside a body that wouldn't obey him.
He tried to calm himself roughly and desperately, just to ease the storm.
For a moment, it lessened.
Then it returned.
Not as strong.
But still there.
A biological demand.
He covered his mouth to silence a sob.
Outside, Clare closed her eyes and listened.
"I can't even control my own body…"
Then a memory appeared.
A small hand holding his sleeve.
"Don't leave me."
His brother's voice.
That warmth cut through the haze.
This wasn't about purity.
Not about shame.
It was about survival.
He straightened.
As he adjusted his clothes, something hard pressed against his thigh.
Confused, he reached into his pocket.
A knife.
Cold.
Hidden.
Waiting.
Understanding came instantly.
This was never about pleasure.
It was about control.
His breathing steadied.
The tears didn't stop , but his eyes changed.
The knife slipped from his shaking fingers and hit the tile.
He stared at it.
Then slowly picked it up.
When he opened the washroom door, the women smiled patiently.
He didn't hesitate.
He moved first.
Silver flashed.
A scream.
Another.
He didn't look at their faces.
He moved like someone drowning who had found something solid ,even if it meant pulling others under.
It ended quickly.
Too quickly.
The room went silent.
His body still burned.
His hands shook.
But his mind was clear.
The door opened.
Clare entered.
She stepped over the bodies without emotion.
She crouched in front of him and gently lifted his chin.
Her fingers were warm.
"Your mind resisted your flesh," she said softly.
A faint smile appeared.
"Good."
He looked at her with hatred and horror.
She wiped away one of his tears.
"You still deserve to live."