ELISE
I stood alone in the huge hotel room, surrounded by such silence that I could hear my own rapid breathing and the pounding of my heart in my ears.
The room was spacious and elegantly designed — high ceilings, a soft carpet underfoot, minimalist yet luxurious furniture, and warm golden lighting that gave everything a soft, almost unreal glow. A massive bed stood in the center, perfectly made, with a glass table and comfortable armchairs nearby, as if everything was meant for relaxation... yet beneath that calm, there was a strange, unsettling coldness.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one entire wall, right where I stood, revealing the city spread out like it was in the palm of my hand. Massive glowing buildings stood side by side, their lit windows shining like stars, as if thousands of small stories were unfolding at once. Car lights moved slowly along the streets below.
It was the first time I had ever seen a view like this... but instead of admiration, I felt uneasy — as if the perfection of it all was hiding something deeper, something tense and unspoken.
On the wall, in large letters, was the sign: "Happy Birthday."
The letters were too bright, almost as if nothing else in the room was meant to matter.
A few floors below, in the hotel bar, a celebration was taking place — the birthday that had brought me here. For others, it was a joyful occasion.
For me... it wasn't.
I stood by the window, dressed in a red nightgown that barely covered my body, breathing unevenly, tense, painfully aware of one simple but terrifying truth:
I wasn't just a guest.
I was a gift — for the main person of the evening. The celebrant.
My heart was racing so fast it felt like it wouldn't fit in my chest. Thousands of thoughts clashed in my mind — confusion, fear, the urge to run, and something else... something strange and unexplainable. I couldn't decide whether to stay or leave.
"No... I can't do this!" I blurted out, as if trying to convince myself.
I quickly put on a long robe and walked toward the door, my steps heavy and uncertain. I slowly opened it—
—and froze.
A man was already standing there, entering the room.
Instinctively, I stepped back, moving slowly as if trying to create distance between us. He walked in calmly, closed the door behind him, then looked at me. A slight smile appeared on his lips.
"Hi," he said.
He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, with subtle Asian features. Around 25–27 years old. He wore fitted black pants, a black shirt, and a leather jacket, which made him look even more sharp and confident. His gaze was direct... piercing.
He looked me over, and that brief moment was enough to make me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I quickly turned away, as if running was the safest option, and headed toward the door—
"Where are you going?" he asked calmly, but there was something in his tone that stopped me in place.
"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong room," I said, forcing a convincing smile, though my voice trembled slightly.
"I don't think so," he chuckled, stepping in front of the door and blocking my way almost completely.
From embarrassment and tension, I didn't know where to go. My mind was blank, thoughts tangled and useless. What do I do now? I asked myself, but there was no answer.
He slowly walked closer, completely in control of the situation. He stopped very close to me and studied my face, his gaze intense and unsettlingly focused.
"Have we met before?" he asked, pausing slightly, as if testing his own thoughts.
"No!" I answered quickly, without hesitation.
He watched me in silence for a few seconds, then frowned slightly, as if trying to figure something out.
"That's impossible... I must be imagining it. I drank too much," he muttered to himself.
Then he looked at me again, his tone shifting slightly.
"Take off the robe."
I didn't move.
"Take it off," he repeated, stepping even closer.
I resisted internally, but the tension and uncertainty pushed me to obey. Slowly, I took off the robe. With one hand, he turned me around — I could feel his gaze on my shoulders.
Suddenly, his fingers slid the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders. The fabric slipped down instantly and fell silently to the floor.
I stood there in nothing but my underwear.
Shock hit me. I covered my chest with my hands, my breathing quick and uneven. The shame was overwhelming, as if the room itself had closed in around me.
His hand brushed along my back — light, but it sent a sharp current through my entire body. He paused at one spot, right where my mole was, holding his hand there for a few seconds.
Then he slowly turned me to face him.
My head was lowered. I couldn't meet his eyes. Shame and confusion tightened around my throat.
"What's your name?" he asked.
I couldn't speak. It was as if the words had disappeared.
"Alright... get dressed," he said calmly, sitting down in the armchair.
I picked up my nightgown from the floor and quickly put it on.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I sat down slowly.
"What's your name?" he repeated, more clearly this time.
"Elise," I answered. I didn't want to say my real name, but I wasn't in the right state to come up with a lie.
"I'm Noah," he said, watching me in a strange way — like he was feeling several things at once. Curiosity, suspicion... and something I couldn't quite name.
He sat in thought for a moment, then asked:
"Do you want a drink?"
"No," I replied shortly.
"What are you doing here, Elise?" he asked, not taking his eyes off me for a second.
I hadn't expected that question. My voice disappeared. Does he not know? I thought, confused. What was I supposed to say?
"It's time for me to leave," I said, standing up quickly, searching for my robe with my eyes.
"Sit," he said, his tone calm but slightly firm. "You're not going anywhere until morning."
He had already decided.
This night wasn't going to end the way I had planned.