She should have expected this.
The past few days had blurred together—setting up camp, learning how to survive, trying not to lose herself in the quiet realization that this was her life now. Although it did help she couldn't recall even a moment of her past life. She knew she had one, but it was just…gone.
She tried not to think about it, instead focusing on the area around her. The air smelled of salt and damp earth, the constant crash of waves against the shore a ceaseless reminder that she was stranded.
He had called this place a small cove. But it was part of something much bigger—a chain of islands teeming with creatures he called Pals. Wild. Strange. Dangerous. Something like the Galápagos, he had said, only with monsters instead of turtles and death instead of discovery.
Although the way he talked about it made it all seem like some kind of fun game, hearing him talk about losing friends to some of the deadly ones because they wanted to capture and not kill it. It was horrifying, especially as he kept up that genuine smile. He spoke about it like a game, like losing friends was just another mechanic to learn from. Like death was nothing but a minor inconvenience.
But then she caught it—that flicker behind his eyes. It was too brief, gone before she could process it.
How many? she almost asked. But something in her gut told her she didn’t want to know.
She had a feeling, none of them survived. I also felt like I could understand him better. His way of seeing me, not a friend or a human even, but a toy. Because everyone else was already gone, there could have been others, could have been people he tried to help only for them to die.
She should have been used to his eyes by now.
Should have been.
But every time she caught the flicker of amusement, every time she saw the way his gaze dipped—casual, claiming, never ashamed—her stomach twisted.
Not in fear. Not in anger.
But because she liked knowing he looked. Though she denied it, chasing the thought from her head as she refocused on her task. Still, she smiled. ‘Enough’ my ass.
Without his help mind you. He told me what to do but just watched. Still, she found herself watching him. He must have been lonely. 
She had woken up on the wrong side of the island, or at least in a place not many start their adventure form. According to him, it was unusual. Most Players—people with tablets like hers—woke up in the so-called “Land of Beginning.” the area where almost every beginner, or nugget, appeared. 
Nuggets had three settings, uncooked, baked, and fried. Uncooked nuggets were basically completely newbies, something that made her more than a little mad. But what could she do, she was uncooked, a new nugget. From there they could be baked or fried. Baked were people who chose to support someone else. Usually someone who cosied up to another to get ‘feed’, the choice she turned down. So now she would have to go through the fire to be fried, becoming a newby that was getting the hang of it. However he warned her that all nuggets get eaten, whether raw, cooked or baked, it didn't matter. In the end the only way to graduate was to be eaten, the real trick was to survive it, from there you can be called a person again, or a pet.
Either way that was the true start of this game, until then. And he took great pleasure telling her about this, she was nothing but a useless nugget, with no rights as people and no protection as pets.
The way he had said it made her uneasy. He suggested she was special or unlucky to wake up here. Perhaps she was just useless.
She had tried to throw a rock at him for that comment.
It didn’t work.
The stone stopped mid-air, deflected by some kind of invisible force. He barely reacted—just smirked, shaking his head, amused. However he was not forgiving. What had started as a joke, a petty little attempt to knock him down a peg, had turned into something else entirely.
Because then, for the first time, he turned serious.
It wasn’t dramatic. No change in tone. No dark glare or sharp words. But the air shifted, like the way the ocean goes still before a storm. Subtle. Deadly. Cold. 
"You don’t have to accept the collar," he had said, tone smooth, easy. "But keep that up, and I might just decide you’re not worth the effort."
That was the moment she learned real fear.
A chill that had nothing to do with the cave’s dampness ran down her spine. He had been humoring her before, letting her spit and snarl like a cornered cat. But now, she saw it—the edge beneath the charm, the knife beneath the silk.
He was worse than a deadly predator, he was a man with the powers of god and gods could be petty, but a man. A man could be far worse.
She had backpedaled instantly. Apologized. Swallowed her pride and begged him to keep teaching her.
It wasn’t glamorous or dignified. But she knew, felt it in her very core, he was deadly. Perhaps worse, there was something dangerous lurking inside, but he just laughed at her and when she looked up he was the same as before, not dangerous, not threatening. It was chilling.
However, his warm smile was back and after that, she didn't seem to mind his gaze as much, so long as he kept that smile, that pressure. As long as he was happy, she was safe.
The Island
The cave where he had found her in was little more than a hole in the rock—dark, damp, and smelling of wet stone and something earthy, almost metallic. It sat at the base of a sheer cliff face, part of a towering rock formation that loomed over the beach like some ancient guardian.
Beyond the cave, the shoreline stretched in a gentle curve, the sand pale, almost white, but speckled with smooth stones and patches of seaweed. The waves lapped against the shore, a never-ending rhythm, their distant roar mingling with the cries of creatures in the distance.
Above, built into the cliffside itself, was something impossible.
Ruins.
Massive stone pillars jutted from the rock, remnants of something grand, something old. The structure looked half-swallowed by time, covered in creeping vines and patches of moss. The stone was weathered but solid, carved with patterns she didn’t recognize. There were stairs leading up, zigzagging along the rock face, leading toward the ruins.
She had walked up this path only because he was with her, it wasn't scary, but there were shadows, creatures darting between trees, bushes and rocks. Large unknown things she wasn't looking forward to dealing with. 
The path led to a wall.
A massive stone barrier, still intact despite its age, with wooden crates and debris scattered near its base. They were all pushed together to lead to a way up, but she wasn’t ready to test it yet.
It was old, might not hold her weight and it would be embarrassing with him watching for her to fall and hurt herself. No she wasn't ready to try, not yet.
For now, this small corner of the island was all she could handle.
She was learning.
Slowly.
Sure, she had a guide—a smug, frustrating, infuriatingly attractive bastard—but he only helped when it suited him. He let her struggle, let her fight through each challenge alone, offering only a few words, hints on how to proceed.
Soon enough she had built a base, an easy feat thanks to the tablet. It was almost disappointing so. 
Days passed by relatively easily, learning from him, getting used to the strange ease of crafting. Surviving. 
The ancient world had left its marks in this place, reducing everything to a system.
Wood, stone, fiber. She gathered, the tablet rendered, soon enough a small cabin rose as if it had always been there. Walls had been built, floors, even a ceiling. Everything was modular. No hammer. No nails. Just a combination of different buildings, the parts of the structure forming in real time.
He had leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching her reaction with that knowing smirk. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
She’d clicked her tongue. “Ridiculous.” she brushed it off, like it was impossible. Except she had done it herself.
She didn't know why but it felt wrong. Yet over time, she had come to accept it. Over time she was used to everything and over time, she was ready to explore past her own world.
Day 5…
She woke to the smell of damp earth and salt, the faintest hint of ash lingering from last night’s fire. The air was cool, crisp, the kind of cold that settled deep in her bones but she was safe from the wind because of the walls of her home, and warm because of the small blanket of her bed. If only she could take it with her, but for some reason, somehow it refused to leave the bed so when she got up. She had to leave it behind.
She shivered as she sat up, pulling away from the one comfort she had—a thin, stubborn blanket that refused to leave the bed.
“Goodbye, my friend,” she murmured.
The bite of the air bit her, nipping at her sensitive areas but after a big stretch she took a breath and began her day.
Her cabin was little more than a crude box of wood—four walls, a roof, and a single, uneven bed. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. Empty, bare, exposed to the elements. 
Just like her.
The cries of Pals echoed from the treetops, something skittered through the underbrush outside, and beyond that, the distant growl of something too large to be safe. She had learned not to react. To be used to it, comforted by the fact that she hadn't seen anything more dangerous than a large pink cat that ran on two legs. 
Luckily it was more afraid of her then she was of it.
She rubbed sleep from her eyes, rolling her shoulders as she sat up, the wooden bed frame creaking beneath her weight. She needed food. Water. Firewood. And preferably a way to keep the damn cold from seeping through the walls.
She only had a moment now, however. Soon he would return and when he was around… she was safe but also watched like a hawk. Not because of any crime or suspicion but because she still hadn't reached a level where she could craft simple clothes.
Stupid tablet.
It was awesome, allowing her to craft a solid building in no time, allowed her to collect materials she needed and build things she would never be able to before and yet, it forced her to remain naked because it didn't register simple fabric as clothes, so it would store it instead, or return it to the bed where it belonged.
Because of this, she was practically an exchobitionist, and a good one at that. “Not that I enjoy it.” she told herself again. Taking some cooked berries out of her inventory. And munching on the mushy things. Bland as always but what else was there to eat?
It was a shame the storage did not keep everything fresh but for now, she was fed. Her day now went by looking over the cavern, exploring the area and picking up rocks and sticks, somehow gaining experience from this simple action. It was only a point but it was a point higher to the next level a point closer to clothes. She cut down some trees, and broke some rocks. The trees grew fast and the rocks seemed to grow from the ground but she learned not to question everything. In the end, this world was her new home, and if he couldn't escape from it, then what hope did she have of reaching civilization.
For now she wouldn't question why her axe phased through the tree, the pickaxe thought the rock or why they broke away and disappeared into the tablet. 
She stopped questioning everything.
There were no answers.
“You’re up early.” 
A chill rolled up her spine.
Aria froze for half a second, before forcing herself to continue. She wouldn’t let him know he startled her.
But he always knew.
She turned.
Earl stood exactly where he always did—casual, smug, perfectly in control. She had never once heard him approach. Like a shadow that simply appeared whenever he wanted to be seen.
Earl.
He had given her that name. He laughed like it was a joke but she understood he liked playing the role, worse yet it might not have been a role - it could be a fact and the simple fact of it was that he just enjoyed owning everything, claiming land just to hold his power over her. It was very effective, but she would never let him know. Would never allow him that sinful satisfaction. 
She didn't understand what it meant however she knew it fit his personality to a T. a self proclaimed noble, one who liked to control everything. She laughed, it fit him so well. He raised an eyebrow at her mirth but she continued quickly. “Ah, just thinking it's a good day today. I managed to get a few hundred bundles of wood and a lot of good stone, plus I've almost 100 of that odd blue glass stone thing.”
“I see” he replied, disappointed? She kept her smile wondering if she said something wrong. Was it because she refused to call it Paldium? It was a stupid name.
But his smile returned, it was so fast, so natural that she thought perhaps she had simply imagined it, agreeing with that statement in her head while ignoring the alarm in her mind. 
“So,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement, “now that you’ve had time to settle in… how about a little bet?”
She could only sign, knowing what was coming. These little bets of his wasn't all that bad, it was doable and she was able to succeed every time. But the consequence of losing was always the same, she would be enslaved by him. Worse was she never really had a chance to decline it, he always pushed on, ignoring whatever she said and telling her about the bet.
With a deep breath she folded her arms, just underneath her chest, staring him down. He seemed pleased by this action and she herself smiled. That ment she would get an extra day, at least. “…What kind of bet?”
His smirk widened. “A trial. A little test to see if you can actually survive out here.”
She shivering slightly as the cold air licked her exposed area, sending a jolt of pleasure up her body from her lower abdomen. She bit her tongue before snapping an answer at him. “I’m already surviving.” 
It was embarrassing to her, but she held her ground. Forcing herself to stand proud despite the licking sea air, shifting terribly around her form.
Earl tilted his head, watching her with the lazy amusement of a cat toying with a mouse. “Are you?” he challenged. “Because right now, you’re just existing.”
Her smile twitched. That hit deeper than she liked.
She wasn’t thriving, wasn’t even close. She was scraping by, barely making it through each day, all because she was trapped not brave enough to climb over trash. Trash, by the way that didn't react to her tablet nor allowed her to move it, just like the ancient ruin.
The wind died down again, allowing her to breath easier, her cheeks flushed but not from cold. “I’ll manage.” she tried. She knew she needed to progress, she was at the height of her stay here but it would be better on her own terms. 
While his little bets always gave her the risk of becoming a slave, even if he said it like a joke she knew all too well he would like nothing more for her to fail.
His chuckle was low, rich, almost warm—she grit her teeth, yeah right. She wouldn't fail.
“I’ll make it interesting then,” he said, shifting. “Beat the first cave. Three days. If you win, you get to keep playing at survival all on your own.” He paused, he liked his theatrics, he would do well in a theater. He was such a drama queen…er, king. 

That’s when he leaned in. Just slightly. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to see the slight glint in his green eyes.
“If you lose… I'll take you with me.” there it was, his collar of the day. This one was pink with a little fuzzy patch in the front with a metal tag that she could barely see, reading it as ‘Kitty’.
So now she would be a cat? Still better than tits-4-brains. That one was unique. She worked really hard to accomplish that task then, no way would she let anyone call her that stupid ‘pet name’.
As she was thinking about how ridiculous he was he added, “I could always use another woman in my breeding farm.”
Her mind blanked.
Her breath hitched.
For a second, the world tilted.
She saw his mouth move, but she didn’t hear the words. Didn’t register anything but the sudden, cold rush of- of something striking threw her, like lightning, her nerves were on fire.
However her mind wasn’t stunned in horror, but into it. The idea of his words. The thought curled inside her like warm silk, soft, smothering. What would it be like? To be taken, to be owned? To have no more choices? The idea burned through her like a fever—smooth and seductive. 
Then she had a moment of clarity. she blinked, biting her tongue. Hard. A punishment. A warning. Disgust coiled inside her, as something else did too. Something she wanted to, but would never give in.
She tasted blood, forcing herself to regain her mental factory. He must have done something. Had to be plotting something all this time. She wasn't the type of woman to be tempted by something like that. 
She couldn't be.
“Fine,” she forced herself to say. “What's the bet?” she couldn’t think, couldn’t fight back with words alone. She was distracted, stunned.
Not from fear. Quite the opposite—her mind short-circuited, crashing into a hot, static haze. The words curled around her, thick, suffocating, a weight pressing down on something deep inside her. A place that pulsed, a place she didn’t want to name. Her thoughts slowed, thickened, drowned in the warmth of it and she could barely hear his answer.

"Pass. And fuck you for even offering."
Her voice came, snapping through the cavern like a whip.
His chuckle licked her ears uncomfortably.
"You're new here, aren't you?" His gaze lowered.
Lingering.
It drifted over her naked form, slow and methodical.
She felt it move—starting at her shoulders, tracing the curve of her collarbone, sliding lower, pausing over the places she tried to hide. The weight of his stare made her skin prickle, something deep inside her twisting in protest.
Heat clawed up her neck, her breath coming too fast, but she shifted—correcting herself, covering what little she could, sealing away any ‘accidental’ slips she graced him with before. It was not a game she could win.
From the way his smirk deepened, she knew he liked that, and she didn’t.
The fire crackled between them, the warmth licking at her skin, cruel in contrast to the cold sinking into her bones.
"What do you want?" she spat, unable to keep the sharp edge from her tongue. She felt tears in her eyes, but she maintained her glare.
His smirk widened. And she could only recoil under his lustful gaze.
But it wasn’t just fear. Wasn’t discomfort or disgust. And yet, he wasn’t forcing her to speak. He wasn’t looming over her like a threat. He wasn’t even trying to be intimidating. That was the worst part. Because he wasn’t terrifying at all.
His handsome features were infuriatingly perfect, the kind of face that belonged in forbidden daydreams—all sharp lines and quiet arrogance, effortlessly seductive without even trying.
The way his lips curved just so, teasing without saying a word—the way his voice dipped low, smooth, rich, and unrushed, like he had all the time in the world to savor the moment—it sent a slow, traitorous heat curling in her stomach.
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to will it away.
The collar hung loosely, rolling between his fingers like a coin he had no intention of spending.
A lazy motion. Casual. But not careless.
He wanted her to see it.
She did.
And she hated it.
Hated the way her breath betrayed her, hitching—shallow, unsure. Hated the slow, crawling heat along her spine, creeping in despite every red flag screaming at her to turn away, run, don’t look. But she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
This was dangerous.
Not because he was threatening.
But because he wasn’t.
Still, he was the only other human she had seen. The only proof that she wasn’t truly alone in this place. And that meant, no matter how she felt, she needed—wanted—him.
She wanted connection. Wanted someone else to be there with her. Wanted the safety of companionship.
Waking up in this world had been a nightmare—cold, naked, alone. The first thing she had seen wasn’t the sky, wasn’t the sun or anything familiar. It was monsters.
Creatures that should not exist.
Larger than her. Dangerous. Too real.
She didn’t know what they were, what they wanted, or what they were capable of. She only knew fear. The thing in this cave had shattered her, torn her sanity thread by thread until there had been nothing left but exhaustion and primal terror.
She had been so, so very desperate.
Then he came.
If she had the strength then—if her body hadn’t been emptied of everything but raw desperation—she would have run to him. She would have clung to him, pressed against him, and breathed in the safety of someone else. She would have sobbed. Because in that moment, she wouldn’t have cared what he wanted. Only that he was there.
Because he was here. Because she could breathe. Because he meant she could survive. She needed something tangible. Something real.
Something safe. 
Even if that safety came wrapped in dark silk and green eyes that lingered too long.
She was too scared to go it alone. Her stomach twisted, her lips pressing together, breath unsteady.
His hand flexed.
The collar shifted, the leather moving between his fingers, circling, twisting.
Her eyes followed it. Her pulse stuttered, breath catching in her throat. 
Would it really be that bad? The thought slid in like a whisper.
Her breath stuttered. The torchlight flickered, shadows stretching against the cave walls. She pressed her lips together, No.
It came too easily. Too smooth. Like it had always been there, waiting for her to notice.
She swallowed hard, shoving it down, locking it away. I am not that desperate. She forced the thought, trying to ignore its continuation. Not yet.
She licked her lips, forcing her voice to stay steady.
"Yeah," she admitted. 
It felt like a defeat, like she lost. But the only time she would lose would be if she allowed him to put that damned collar around her neck. She was not that desperate. He had offered it to her, but she turned it down. 
He wouldn't force it on her, she knew that. It wasn't his way. She understood that, somehow. It was a game to him. He would wait.
He would watch.
And he would only accept it when she surrendered.
When she begged for it.
A flicker of an image crossed her mind—herself on her knees, trembling, head pushed on the ground as she begged him to take this worthless thing, begging for him to do with her what she will, to use her as he pleased - so long as she could be his, whatever he wanted of her a friend a pet, even a slave.
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
She bit her tongue. Hard. The sharp pain cut through the thought, grounded her. Disgusted with herself.
His smirk widened.
"Thought so," he murmured, A lazy tilt of his head. That damnable green gaze lingered—too long. Always too long before, finally, it flicked back to hers.

"I'm an old Tamer. Explains the collar, right?" His chuckle was low, easy—like they were sharing some inside joke she wasn’t in on.

With an infuriating lack of ceremony, he finally tucked the collar away. A small breath of relief escaped her before she could stop it, her muscles loosening for the first time since he’d pulled the damned thing out.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

But he didn’t comment.

Instead, his voice slipped back into something casual, indifferent, as if this entire situation was no more than a mild inconvenience. “Humans aren't really pals per se, but a lot of people often look the other way.”

The words settled between them like a stone dropping into deep water. Too smooth. Too practiced. Not a joke. Not quite serious either. Just a statement of fact.

Her stomach clenched so hard she thought she might be sick. Not just from the words, but from the way he said them—so casual, so easy, like he had seen it a thousand times before. Like it was normal. Something that was not only accepted, but encouraged.
And then—

The wink.

Slow. Deliberate. Enjoyed.

A chill raked down her spine.

She shivered before she could stop herself, and his smirk didn’t fade—if anything, it deepened, just a fraction. 

She was a target, a goal. His goal, he was subtle enough but she understood it well enough. She was in danger, not from monsters, he wouldn't let his prize be taken away by something like that. Instead he would keep her safe just enough, until she broke.
It was… terrifying, but at the same time, comforting. She understood, now. He would tease, poke and prod but in the end he would help her with moral support, just by being there, even if it was to demean her.
“You look cute when you smile.” His comment made her realize she was smiling, causing her to lose it just as fast.
“I'm always pretty.” she spat back, the retort familiar, used, constant.
“Enough.” Flat. Unimpressed. Not even a rejection—just dismissal. Like an afterthought.
Something inside her twisted, sharp and ugly.
Her arms dropped before she could think, shock punching through her chest so fast it left her bare.
Not physically. She was already bare. But this—this was different.
"E-enough?" The question stumbled out of her, too real, too raw. "What the hell does that mean?"

He bit his lips obviously enjoying the woman's struggle. She noticed only then that she was completely visible. Quickly she covered herself again but that only drew a wink from, as he gave her a mocking thumbs up.
The thought irritated her more than anything now. The shame had dulled, edged out by the horror of getting used to it. She was still cold. Naked. Hungry. And he was still just standing there.
Fuck it. She screamed internally. Just done with this, with him. He was toying with her and she was done with it. She was getting hungry, cold and mirabelle. Her legs protested, sore from being curled up so long. The damp cold clung to her skin, her own filth sticking to her.
She clenched her jaw, turning away quickly, searching—anything to wipe herself down.
She felt his gaze on her, tracking her like a wolf amused by its prey. But she was over it. He could look all he wanted. The determination didn't stop her ears from burning, from shame and…something else.

The worst part was that she was getting used to it. The shame, the exposure, the way his gaze traced her like a brand. It should have burned her alive. But it didn’t. Not anymore.

The realization soured her stomach. She still felt the discomfort, the shame, but it no longer impacted her, her actions, her words, her feelings. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to ignore him, ignore the way his presence felt like a pressure against her skin.

He followed her, like a curious man watching an animal with interest and she caught him Rolling his broad shoulders out of the corner of her eye, muscles shifting beneath his clothes, he had quite the figure, clear even underneath his dress.
Then his eyes met her and she quickly looked away, back to her task. Her eyes falling on a set of green mushrooms glowing softly in the dark of the cave… odd.
"Alright," he murmured, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. Making it clear that everything here was beneath him. 
Confident bastard she thought as he continued. 
"I suppose I can help."
Her eyes snapped to his, hope flaring as her heart skipped a beat, excited before she could shove it down.

Then—

"Not out of kindness," he added smoothly, voice dipping into something dry, unbothered. "Just bored."
"Fine," she muttered. "Then at least give me something to cover myself with."
That damn smirk deepened.
"I like the view as it is," he said, without shame, without hesitation.
She sighed through her nose. Figures.
He didn’t even bother pretending to look away this time, but she no longer bothered to cover herself either. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen everything already. The shame was dull now—annoyance taking its place, heavy and tired.
She shifted, rolling her shoulders back, standing a little straighter. It was an unconscious reaction, one that irritated her the moment she realized it. Like her body had decided, Fine, if you're going to look, at least get the full fucking picture.
She knew how she must look—bare, vulnerable, exposed. But the worst part wasn’t the shame. It was how little she felt it now. Her skin prickled from the cave’s damp air, and the warmth of the torch he held out was a quiet temptation.
He noticed. Of course he did.
But instead of commenting, he finally got on with it.
"Simple," he mused, voice lazy as the torchlight shifted, casting flickering gold over her skin.
Warmth seeped in, chasing away the last clinging chill. She exhaled, just a little.
He watched.
She ignored him.
"That tablet of yours," he gestured lazily toward her wrist, "it's what keeps you here."
Her gaze dropped to the strange stone device strapped tightly to her skin. The thin chains looping through the metal remained still, no slack, no weight—like they weren’t real in the way chains should be.
"We don’t know much about them," he admitted, voice smooth and conversational, like this was nothing more than small talk over drinks. “Ancient tech. Something we all woke up with. Some people study them, try to unlock their secrets… but no one’s made it past the surface.”
Her brows furrowed, eyes flicking to the screen. "So what does it actually do?"
His smirk widened.
"It allows us. And it confines us."
Poetic. She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.
"It enhances us," he continued, shifting his weight to lean against the cave wall, casual, comfortable. "Makes us stronger. Gives us abilities we shouldn’t have. But it also binds us. We’re tethered to something—call it fate, call it a system, call it a curse."
Her fingers flexed around the torch. Fate. She didn’t like the sound of that.
But he kept talking, unconcerned.
"Your inventory is one of its better tricks," he went on, lifting his own wrist. With a flick of his fingers, light pulsed, and an object materialized in his palm.
She blinked.
His tablet.
Of course, he had one too.
But why was his unbound while hers was locked tight around her wrist?
She wasn’t sure she liked the implications.
He didn’t pause long enough for her to question it. "It lets you store items—up to a certain weight and size. Makes carrying supplies easy."
Her mind immediately raced with possibilities. But of course, there was a catch.
"You can’t wear whatever you want, though," he continued, amusement curling in his voice. "Outfits, weapons, and gear? All predefined. You get what you unlock. Nothing more."
She frowned. "That’s stupid. Why?"
He shrugged, leather shifting over broad shoulders.
"No one knows. But unless you break the Level 60 barrier, you’ll never be able to make your own gear."
Level 60.
Her stomach sank.
She didn’t know much about this world yet, but something about that number felt impossibly distant.
His smirk didn’t waver as he watched her grip the torch a little too tightly, as if its warmth could shield her from more than just the cold.
"You’ll figure it all out," he said, smooth and teasing, the words offering no actual reassurance.
“The best thing you can do now is use what’s available to you. The tablet will guide you."
He paused.
Then his smirk widened.
"If you let it."
Something about the phrasing made her skin prickle.
Like it was a thing with a will of its own.
Like she didn’t have a choice.
She swallowed down the discomfort, but before she could push out another question, he tilted his head, voice dipping lower.
Lazier.
Meaner.
"Now…" A pause. Deliberate.
He let the word sit there. Let it settle.
Then, lower, softer—like a promise he already knew she’d make.
"I suppose you still have more to learn."

The cave was still.
Too still.
She sharpened her ears, straining past the slow drip… drip… drip of water echoing from unseen depths. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and stagnant air, cool against her bare skin. A faint rustle stirred somewhere in the distance—small creatures scurrying along the rocky terrain, unseen but present. Her own breath, shallow and uneven, was the only other sound.
She held herself still. Waiting.
Nothing.
Her muscles, locked in anticipation, began to loosen. The fear that had gripped her since the moment she’d entered this place slowly ebbed away, like the tide receding from the shore. The monster was gone.
She exhaled, slow and deliberate, trying to convince herself it was over.
Then—footsteps.
A sharp, sudden sound. Too clear. Too close.
Her stomach clenched, a fresh wave of fear snapping through her, raw and electric. Her limbs refused to move, still trapped in the lingering remnants of terror. She barely managed to turn her head toward the sound, her movements stiff and hesitant.
The shadows at the mouth of the cave shifted.
Something moved—a figure emerging from the black.
She trembled, the tension in her muscles coiling tight once more as it grew closer, clearer. But she still couldn’t make it out.
What was it?
And more importantly—why was it coming this way?
Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Then—a torch flared to life.
The sudden burst of flame sent warm light flickering against the jagged cave walls, chasing the darkness into the corners. The fire crackled softly, its glow reflecting off damp stone, filling the cavern with the scent of burning wood.
She blinked against the brightness, her vision adjusting.
He stepped forward, the torchlight licking at black leather and silk, the fire catching in the sharp angles of his face. He did not look afraid—he looked like he belonged here, like the darkness bowed to him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His clothes, black leather and silk, looked far too fine for someone wandering the wilderness. The flickering glow cast sharp shadows over high cheekbones, a strong jawline, the slight curve of a knowing smirk. His dark hair framed his face in a careless cut, His dark hair fell in a careless cut, the strands framing striking green eyes that gleamed with something unreadable—something dangerously amused.
Her breath caught.
Human.
The fear didn’t vanish, but relief flushed through her system, raw and overwhelming. It wasn’t a monster. Not some mindless beast. The sheer, suffocating terror that had gripped her moments before eased, unraveling at the edges.
And that was enough for her body to relax.
Too much.
As she exhaled, her muscles loosened all at once, her body sinking into the sensation—warm, dizzy, thoughtless.
Every muscle.
Heat spilled down her thigh, seeping into the previous puddle of shame, warming the damp stone beneath her. Her ears burned as the realization hit—this time, someone was watching.
She wanted to flee. Wanted to hide. But this time, it wasn’t fear that held her down.
It was relief.
Her body had let go all at once, sinking into the weight of exhaustion. The tension that had kept her coiled, trembling, on edge for so long had snapped—leaving her heavy, drained, boneless.
She might have laughed at the irony—if she didn’t also want to cry from the shame of it.
“So, come here often?” he joked, calling her eyes to him. Her ears still burned, but she forced it from her mind. She needed to focus. He was still a threat. In fact, humans were often more terrifying than monsters or animals.
She wasn’t safe. The danger had just changed.
This was confirmed as she saw him in the torch light. The way he stood, unrushed, unconcerned, the torchlight making the dark silk of his shirt gleam faintly with each breath. The way his head tilted slightly, studying her.
The way his gaze trailed over her, slow and deliberate. Each time his eyes washed over her body, it made her skin prickle.
It wasn’t the look of a man who had found someone in danger and come to help. Rather, it was the glint of something predatory. Not hostile, not yet anyway, but it wasn't friendly. If she wasn’t already freezing, his gaze alone would have given her goosebumps.
Her arms snapped tighter around herself, fingers pressing into her skin, knuckles turned white as her nails dug into her own skin, the bite centering her; Allowing her to breathe, grounding her in the moment. The cave's damp chill seeped into her bones, her exposed flesh prickling beneath the weight of his gaze.
Still, she glared up at him, "Who the fuck are you?" The words tore from her throat, harsher than she intended. 
But what else could she do? Her body was a useless, trembling mess, her limbs heavy, unresponsive. Cold, exhaustion, shame—everything had drained her.
She still couldn’t feel her legs.
Still had nothing.
Literally nothing.
Not even a rag to hide her shame, she was a crumpled mess for all to see, secrets kept hidden only by her hands. Yet, somewhere beneath the burning embarrassment, beneath the crawling shame that made her press tighter into herself, there was something else. A rush—hot and unwelcome, curling low in her stomach.
She swallowed hard, hating the way her skin prickled not just from the cold, but from something else, something deeper.
Her breath came fast and shallow, a trembling rhythm that betrayed her far more than she wanted. The firelight flickered against the damp stone, sending long shadows crawling across the cavern walls.
And there he stood—unmoving. Watching. Waiting.
Silent.
He was enjoying the view, the slow dance as she could only wait for him. She clenched her teeth, understanding now what kind of a man he was.
Pathetic. She told herself, barely able to believe it. Given just a little bit of power and this is how he acts, it's obvious. She took a breath, more sure of herself now than ever before, the feeling in her legs came back as she managed to steady her breath.
I'll play his game. I’m at a disadvantage, but all I need to do is bat my eyes and look pathetic. Easy enough—hell, my tits have never been this hard from the cold. She blinked hard, shifting uncomfortably. The cave was cold, outside was colder. Monsters, unfamiliar location.
Yeah fine, she almost scoffed at the thought, hiding it as a small sneeze. She was determined now however. Accept his fucking ‘kindness’ and stroke his worthless ego. It would be safer with him for now. She nodded internally at her thoughts, it was a good plan. Even then, he stood in silence, staring a little too hard at her left hand, the only thing hiding her special place, trapped by the odd warmth of her body and the small puddle growing colder by the second, but she couldn’t move it no matter how cold it got. 
She wouldn't give him the pleasure, ever.
Draped in dark silk and black leather, he loomed over her, his presence filling the space. The heat of the torch flickering between them like an unspoken threat. 
And thats what it was.
That's why she had to play his game, he wasn't dangerous right now, not yet.
So long as he had a chance.
So she lay curled on the cave floor—helpless, exposed, trapped. Playing for him, she lowered her right hand, giving him a peek at her bare chest. The action would seem like a mistake, an unconscious loss of covering herself, but she saw the delight circle in his eyes, dancing in the fire light.
She forced herself to keep her breath steady, Subtly pushing out her chest as she felt a little more control from the action itself.
That's right, it's not his game. She thought, smiling in her head, it's mine.
His smile widened.
Slow. Amused. Like a predator that had just found something interesting to play with.
"Rescue, apparently."
Those were good words, he decided, at least for now, he had a chance. When a man thought they had a chance, there was nothing they wouldn't do for a woman. Someone could use that to their advantage, control a man just enough but it was a razer edge. Men were beasts. Animals without reason. And when they thought it wasn't worth it, or that they didn't have that chance… if there was nothing to lose… there was nothing that would be too low for them. 
She took a breath swallowing the last of her fears. The discomfort remained, he might have been a little good looking but with the way he leered at her, it did him no favors. Instead she would try something she never did before. 
She could pretend. Men liked that. If she let him think he had power, let him believe she was pliable, she might just get what she needed. And when the time came—she’d make sure he never saw it coming.
Weihen did that all the time, it worked for her, she hoped. Though she couldn't really remember which was annoying when she was sure she just thought of her name. Still now is not the time to think about that.
“It’s a good view,” he remarked, dragging her thoughts back to the moment. His voice was smooth, unbothered, like he was merely commenting on the weather. "Not much I can do about that, though."
Her breath hitched, a sharp prickle running down her arms. Asshole. Her hands tightened around her body, nails pressing into her skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to ground herself. He wants a reaction. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"Then stop looking, asshole," she bit out, her voice steady despite the heat creeping up her neck.
For a second, she registered her own words—Yeah, that was sexy. She chided herself, every man wants to help the woman calling them an asshole. This was not her game. She had never flirted with a man before. Never played a damsel to get what she wanted. 
His chuckle was slow, lazy—savored. That was good, right? She didn't know but maybe he liked that sort of thing? Disgusting. Cute and weak she told herself. Trying to get back into character, shifting her body, giving him another glimps, another little treat to tease him, just enough. Not to far.
A ripple of amusement danced in his obnoxiously perfect green eyes, the torchlight catching hints of gold beneath the emerald.
She forced a stranded smile—small, helpless. Let him think she was pliable.
"Fair enough," he mused, reaching into his satchel with casual, almost bored ease. "I suppose I can offer a solution."
She tensed as he pulled something free, a bundle of fabric—worn, practical, but mercifully decent.
"Clothes," he said, offering them with one hand while effortlessly flicking a thin golden coin between his fingers. The metal caught the firelight, spinning with practiced ease. "1000 gold."
Her stomach clenched.
1000 gold?!
Her scowl deepened, her glare snapping between the bundle and his infuriatingly smug face. Her fingers twitched, the cold biting harder into her exposed skin, but the heat rolling through her veins had nothing to do with the temperature.
His smirk widened, like he already knew the answer. Of course he did. She didn’t have a single fucking coin to her name. Where the hell would she keep it, and gold? Who the hell even carried gold?! Prick.
"Discounted," he added smoothly, "since I’m being nice."
She bristled.
Nice?
Right. Like a wolf was nice when it decided to play with its food before the kill.
This was his game. His rules. She didn’t know them, didn’t know the stakes. She was just a piece—something to toy with.
Then, with a thoughtful hum, he reached into the satchel again. Another option.
Something thinner.
Something black.
The moment she realized what it was, a sharp, unwanted jolt ran down her spine.
A collar.
Her throat tightened as she swallowed. A small, involuntary twitch ran through her limbs, something other than the cold.
"Of course," he murmured, voice dipping into something almost mockingly kind, "if you're short on cash… this one’s free."
Her breath stopped.
For a moment, she forgot how to think. How to breathe.
The torch crackled. The damp air pressed against her skin. The weight of his gaze settled on her, slow, deliberate.
Her stomach twisted so sharply it made her physically sick.
Oh.
Oh, she hated that.
A hot, unwelcome thrill curled low in her belly—foreign, sharp, and completely fucking wrong.
An image flashed in her mind—herself, in nothing but that, the weight of his stare drinking her in, that slight, satisfied curl of his lips as he watched, entertained, amused.
No.
Fuck. No. Absolutely not.
Her jaw locked, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Her fingers dug harder into her skin, forcing down the heat, the shame, the tangled mess of things she didn’t even want to name.
She scoffed, twisting her features into disgust, pushing it outward—burying whatever the hell that feeling had been.
"You’re joking," she snapped.
No longer playing. No longer pretending.
She was done.
And she could run now.
She had feelings in her legs now, the conversation, the slow pull of power and tension. Fear no longer held her and her body was no longer overly relaxed. It was tense now, ready to move. If she needed to.
His grin didn’t waver.
"I’m not."
He twirled the collar between his fingers, like he was offering a perfectly reasonable trade.
She swallowed hard, afraid not of him, but what would happen if that small but of leather ever wrapped around her neck.
Tightened just enough so she would always know it was there…

She was warm.

The sun draped over her like a soft, golden blanket, its gentle heat sinking into her skin, loosening every last trace of tension from her muscles. A light breeze danced over her body, cool against the sun’s warmth, like the perfect balance between fire and air. The rhythmic sound of waves rolling onto the shore filled the air, a slow, steady lullaby that pulled her deeper into comfort. The sand beneath her was soft, sun-kissed, cradling her like a natural mattress.

The world was still, perfect and peaceful…

Wait.

Beach?

Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright light. Shadows loomed over her. She froze.

Animals.

Massive, bloated things stared down at her, way too big to be normal.

She sucked in a breath to scream—only for the creatures to beat her to it.

The chicken thing let out an ear-splitting squawk, flailing its stubby wings as it launched into the air like a panicked balloon.

The sheep-looking puffball followed suit, its entire round body trembling like jelly before it let out a horrific, mutated scream—somewhere between a dying goat and a broken violin—before bolting, stubby legs scrambling in the sand.

Only the pink cat-like creature stayed eerily silent. Its massive, luminous eyes locked onto hers for a split second before it whipped around and sprinted away, tail flicking like a startled whip.

She finally sucked in a proper breath and sat up too fast—a mistake.

A pounding ache slammed through her skull, forcing a groan from her lips. She pressed a hand against her temple, wincing as her head throbbed like she had just headbutted a boulder.

It didn’t take her long to realize she was naked.

At first, it was just a vague discomfort—something off about the way the sun touched her skin, how the warm breeze rolled over her too freely.

Then it hit her.

She wasn’t wearing anything.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her arms snapped around her chest, muscles locking, breath catching hard in her throat. The sharp, twisting heat of embarrassment hit fast, crawling up her skin in a humiliating flush. But… something about it stuck. A heavy, sinking feeling curling low in her stomach, a pressure she couldn’t name.

She hated this. She should hate this. The wrongness of it, the helplessness. But the more she squeezed her thighs together, the more the heat pooled, spreading deeper, turning into something that made her body tense in a way she refused to think about.

No. Fuck no.

The cold breeze slipped over her skin, sharp and intimate, teasing at her bare nipples until they stiffened into aching peaks. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, as if that could somehow contain the rush of sensation—too much, too raw, too real.

A full-body shiver ran through her—not from the breeze, but from the sheer wrongness of the situation.

She forced her mind to work, ignoring it as best she could, this was not the time, not the place to be distracted, she needed to move.

Where were her clothes?

Where was she?

The panic surged up hard and fast, but she forced herself to breathe, to think.

Her eyes darted around, scanning the beach. Was anyone watching?

Nothing but the endless stretch of sand, the distant hiss of waves, and the occasional cry of something in the distance. No voices. No people. No sign of… anyone.

She was alone.

The tension in her shoulders eased—just barely.

Still, she swallowed hard, hugging herself tighter, as if that would somehow fix things. There had to be something here. Anything.

Then she felt it—a weight on her wrist.

A thin, deceptively strong chain bound it to her wrist, locking the stone tablet to her like an unshakable shackle. It acted like a… something. 

She knew the word but it was just… lost to her right now, but before she could think about it the tablet flickered to life. A small rectangular screen lit up, and cryptic words scrolled across it:
"The towers are the key."

Then something else—too fast to catch.

She blinked hard, trying to shake the last ache in her head away.

“What?” she whispered with her eyes closed, opening them after her head could think again. Staring at the now black screen. She saw her reflection, an uneven bob cut of black hair, flowing to her shoulder on the right side while on the right it sat just above her chin.

An idea from her sister to help her stand out before the start of… she blinked trying to remember if she understood what her thoughts were. Sister? Did she have a sister, she didn't know, blinking her deep purple eyes she felt that she might have, it felt familiar but why…. Why didn't she remember?

Her thoughts shattered when the screen flickered back to life, displaying six options:

“What,” she muttered again, grateful for the distraction. Anything to pull her away from the gnawing emptiness in her head.

Some kind of game screen?

She let out a short, disbelieving chuckle at the absurdity. If there was one thing she knew, it was that shit like this didn’t happen to her.

She gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing. What even was this?

Her fingers moved before she could think—tap.

Inventory.

A grid popped up on the left, dozens of empty boxes lined up neatly. But what really caught her eye was on the right.

A model of her.

Her name at the top.

"Aria."

The name hung in the air, familiar and solid, like a stone in her chest. But something about it was… wrong. Not the name itself—no, it felt like hers. It was hers. But it wasn’t whole.

She whispered it under her breath. It felt… right. But also wrong. Like it was only part of something bigger, like someone had cut the rest away.

A flicker of unease crawled up her spine, and she shook her head sharply. Not the time. She backed out quickly and tapped Party.

A single warning message flashed on the screen:

"No Pals in party!"

She blinked. "The fuck’s a Pal?" she muttered, brows knitting in frustration.

Her eyes flicked to the next option. Palpedia. If anything had answers, it was that.

She swallowed dryly and tapped it.

"No data."

The words glared back at her from the screen. But on the left, there was a long list of numbers.

1… 2… 3… 140?

“140… what?” she muttered. Pals? What the hell even—

A sudden chill crawled down her back, interrupting her thoughts.

She looked up.

The sun was gone.

Night had fallen. And just like that, she was painfully aware of how exposed she was.

The cold hit her like a knife.

A slow, creeping kind of cold—not the sharp bite of winter, but the kind that settles into your bones and stays there.

Now that she was aware of it, she was surprised she hadn’t noticed before. Was she that drawn into the tablet

Her skin prickled violently, her breath turning shallow and sharp. The night air wrapped around her like icy fingers, dragging heat from her body with every passing second. She wouldn’t survive the night

“Fuck,” she hissed through clenched teeth, arms wrapping around herself instinctively. “My tits are gonna freeze off.”

Her eyes darted around, scanning the landscape. There was a building somewhere on the cliff, it was high and would take a bit to get there but there was a path, long winding she could take but there was also a cave to her right. 

She forced her legs to move, her bare feet digging into the freezing sand, sending jolts of pain up her legs. The wind howled, an eerie, whispering thing, licking at her exposed skin, slipping through her fingers like it wanted to steal the last warmth she had

The cave.

The cave looked safer… in theory. But stepping into that pitch-black maw sent a different kind of chill down her spine.

The wind tickled her chest, the cold sinking into her skin, into her soul.

"It’ll be safe," she muttered, already knowing it was a lie.

The air inside was stale, thick with dampness. Not warm—just less freezing. The walls were rough and uneven, the scent of wet stone clinging to the air, sharp and earthy. Somewhere deeper in, water dripped, slow and rhythmic, a quiet plip… plip… plip echoing through the cavern.

She crouched low, wrapping her arms around herself, pressing her back against the wall. Her skin still burned from the cold.

She shivered violently, her nipples like fucking diamonds, but it was better than the open night.

She hugged herself tighter, her arms pressing against the curve of her chest, trapping a little warmth between her skin. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a fragile heat, a reminder that her body was still her own.

Her fingers flexed, rubbing at her arms, her stomach, anywhere she could chase away the creeping numbness. But the more she moved, the more she noticed it—her own touch, her own skin, her own heat pooling low in her belly, sharp and frustrating.

She exhaled sharply, biting back the feeling. Not the time. Not the place. But the chill wasn’t letting her go, wasn’t giving her a moment of peace, wasn’t stopping the way her body tensed in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

Her breathing slowed. The shaking didn’t.

It was massive. The cave, and it wasn’t even that far from the entrance before she saw it.

A monster.

She froze, breath catching in her throat, every muscle locking up as she stared.

A yellow dinosaur-like thing loomed ahead, its massive bulk sniffing lazily around the cave. Its scales shimmered faintly in the dim light, golden and rough, like a creature carved out of storm-worn stone.

The world was too cold, too quiet. Too still.

A sharp, deafening ding shattered the silence.

Her heart stopped.

For a split second, she was sure she was dead.

Her entire body seized up—a raw, instinctual terror hijacking her senses. The breath she'd been holding crushed her chest, her muscles locked so tight they might as well have turned to stone.

And then—warmth.

A sudden, humiliating heat spread down her thigh.

She had pissed herself.

Warmth flooded down her legs. Hot, thick, unmistakable.

For a moment, her body didn’t even register it—her brain too locked in frozen terror. But then… realization hit like a slap. The heat. The wetness clinging to her skin. The way her breath hitched, sharp and humiliating.

Her face burned. Her throat clenched tight. She wanted to sink into the ground, disappear, anything to escape the crushing weight of how fucking pathetic she must have looked—shivering, naked, small.

But the monster… didn’t move.

Not at the sound. Not at her.

It just swayed, like some massive tree caught in a phantom breeze.

The initial burst of panic didn’t fade—just shifted into horrified mortification.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe, to think, to move. Slowly, shakily, she lifted the tablet with fingers that barely worked.

A yellow icon blinked on Palpedia. She tapped it, swallowing the lump in her throat as the screen loaded.

There it was.

#64B Dinossom Lux.

She stared at the words, then slowly—very carefully—looked back up at the monster swaying just a few steps away.

Oh.

“Oh, fuck.”

The whisper barely left her lips as she flicked her gaze between the tablet and the… thing.

This was a Pal?

She swallowed hard, her pulse still thudding in her ears. The words on the screen blurred for a second as she tried to force her brain to work.

What the hell was this? What was she even looking at?

She shut her eyes, dragging in a slow, shaky breath.

Calm. Focus. Don’t panic.

She couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when it was zero of fuck degrees outside.

It took a moment—long enough for her to count her breaths, to let her hammering heart settle back into her chest.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was ready.

Ready to think. To process. To figure out her next move.

But when she looked up—

It was gone.

Her stomach dropped. A fresh shiver rippled down her spine, and this time, it had nothing to do with the cold.

She turned her head slowly, scanning the cave’s entrance, the walls, the shadows stretching deep inside.

Nothing.

No sign of it. No sound.

Just the dripping water, the weight of the dark, and the unsettling knowledge that something that massive could disappear so quietly.