Lord of Perverted Ladies

The house disappeared.

Not collapsed.

Not destroyed.

It simply ceased to exist.

One moment I was standing in my old bedroom with my parents behind me.

The next...

I was somewhere else.

White walls surrounded me.

A ceiling hung overhead.

Fluorescent lights flickered.

The smell of disinfectant filled the air.

I knew this place.

The hospital.

Again.

But this time it wasn’t the ruined version I’d seen in memories.

It was new.

Clean.

Occupied.

People walked through the corridor.

Doctors pushed carts.

Nurses talked quietly.

A clock on the wall showed 9:17.

I turned around.

My father was gone.

My mother was gone.

Noah was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Except him.

The other Adrian stood at the end of the corridor.

He looked exactly like me.

Not similar.

Exactly.

Same height.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same scar near my eyebrow.

Even the same tiny mark on my left hand.

The only difference was his expression.

He looked like someone who had already lived through everything I was about to experience.

He smiled.

"You finally made it."

I stared at him.

"Who are you?"

He laughed.

"Still asking that?"

"You know who I am."

"I know who you think you are."

My jaw tightened.

"Then tell me."

He walked toward me.

Slowly.

"I am Adrian Cross."

"So am I."

"That’s the problem."

He stopped a few feet away.

"There shouldn’t be two."

"Then which one is real?"

He smiled.

"Neither."

That answer irritated me.

"Stop talking in riddles."

"I’m not."

He looked around the hospital.

"You’re standing inside a memory."

"Whose?"

"Yours."

I looked at the corridor.

"This is the hospital from seven years ago."

"Yes."

"The day I disappeared."

"Yes."

"You were there."

"I was."

"What happened?"

He looked at me.

"You died."

"I’ve heard that before."

"No."

He shook his head.

"You actually died."

I stared at him.

"And then?"

"I buried you."

My stomach tightened.

"You said that."

"No."

He pointed at me.

"I didn’t."

"You were the one who came back three months later."

He nodded.

"Yes."

"Then who are you?"

He smiled.

"That’s what you’re supposed to discover."

I took a step toward him.

"You’re wasting my time."

"I’ve been waiting seven years."

"So have I."

"Not really."

He looked toward the hospital room behind me.

"You’ve only been awake for a few months."

I froze.

"What?"

He pointed toward the door.

"Go inside."

I didn’t move.

"Why?"

"Because you need to see."

I opened the door.

A hospital bed stood in the middle of the room.

Someone was lying on it.

Me.

Seven years younger.

Eyes closed.

Connected to machines.

My body.

My actual body.

I couldn’t breathe.

The other Adrian walked past me.

"That’s you."

"I know."

"No."

He pointed toward the bed.

"That’s the original."

I stared at the body.

"Then what am I?"

He looked at me.

"The replacement."

The word hit harder than I expected.

"A replacement for who?"

"For him."

He pointed toward the bed.

I stepped closer.

The body looked peaceful.

Almost asleep.

No injuries.

No blood.

No signs of death.

"He’s alive."

"Not anymore."

"What happened?"

"He asked me to end it."

I turned.

"You killed me?"

"No."

He shook his head.

"You did."

I stared.

He continued.

"Not with a weapon."

"You erased yourself."

"Like the First Reader told you."

I remembered.

The first sentence.

The reset.

The sacrifice.

But there was something missing.

"You said you were the first Writer."

"I was."

"Then why don’t I remember you?"

"Because you weren’t supposed to."

He walked toward the window.

"Seven years ago, you discovered the Story."

"You discovered the Archive."

"You discovered the Observer."

"And then you discovered me."

I frowned.

"You?"

"Yes."

"What were you?"

He looked at me through the reflection.

"The first version of you."

"But you look exactly like me."

"Because I am."

He turned.

"You were never a replacement."

"You were a continuation."

I shook my head.

"That doesn’t make sense."

"It will."

He walked back toward the bed.

"You died."

"Your consciousness separated from your body."

"Your memories were stored outside the Story."

"And your body remained here."

"What happened to my consciousness?"

"I found it."

"Where?"

"Outside."

"The white world."

"Yes."

He looked at me.

"You asked the first question."

"What is this?"

"Yes."

"And the Observer answered."

"It gave you the Story."

"You became its first Writer."

"But you weren’t satisfied."

"Because the Story had an ending."

I remembered.

Death.

Loss.

Sacrifice.

"I wanted to remove endings."

He nodded.

"You wanted everyone to survive."

"But that wasn’t possible."

"So I created another version of myself."

"Me."

"Yes."

I stared at him.

"You split yourself."

"Exactly."

"Why?"

"Because one part of me wanted to stay."

"And the other?"

"Wanted to leave."

I finally understood.

"You stayed."

He nodded.

"I became the first Writer."

"And I became..."

"The one who left."

I looked at my hands.

"Then why did I return?"

He smiled.

"Because you remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"That you had a choice."

The hospital room began changing.

The walls faded.

The machines disappeared.

The bed vanished.

We were standing in the white space again.

But this time, thousands of doors surrounded us.

The same doors I’d seen before.

The other Adrian walked toward one.

It was plain.

No name.

No symbol.

He placed his hand on it.

"This is the first door."

I stared.

"The one beneath the hospital?"

"No."

"The one beneath everything."

He opened it.

Beyond it was darkness.

Not black.

Something deeper.

An absence of light.

The other Adrian stepped inside.

I followed.

The moment I crossed the threshold, every sound disappeared.

I couldn’t hear my breathing.

Couldn’t feel the ground.

Couldn’t even tell if I was standing.

Then something appeared.

A single chair.

Someone was sitting in it.

The person from the hospital.

My heart stopped.

They looked at me.

Not the other Adrian.

Me.

"Hello."

I couldn’t speak.

The other Adrian stepped aside.

"This is where you were supposed to meet them."

"Who?"

The person smiled.

"Me."

I looked at them.

"Why did you make me forget?"

They didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, they looked toward the other Adrian.

"Because he asked me to."

I turned.

"You asked them?"

He nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you were going to destroy yourself."

"I already died."

"No."

He shook his head.

"You were going to destroy everything."

The person stepped forward.

"You wanted to erase death."

"You wanted to erase endings."

"You wanted to make every possibility real."

"And eventually..."

They looked at me.

"...you would have erased reality itself."

I swallowed.

"So you stopped me."

"We tried."

"By splitting me."

"Yes."

"By creating Adrian Cross."

"Yes."

I stared at my other self.

"Then why am I here?"

The person smiled sadly.

"Because you were never supposed to remember."

"Then who brought me back?"

Neither answered.

I already knew.

"The Observer?"

They shook their head.

"The Witness?"

"No."

"Then who?"

The other Adrian stepped forward.

"I did."

I stared.

"You?"

"I called you back."

"Why?"

"Because I couldn’t keep pretending."

"About what?"

He looked at the person.

Then back at me.

"The original Adrian is dead."

I looked at the hospital.

"I know."

"No."

He shook his head.

"You keep thinking you’re the original."

"I’m not."

"You keep thinking I’m the original."

"I’m not."

He pointed toward the darkness.

"The original is gone."

"Then what are we?"

"Copies."

The word echoed.

"Copies of what?"

"The same decision."

I frowned.

He continued.

"Every time the original chose something, a version appeared."

"The Writer."

"The Reader."

"The Observer."

"The Character."

"The Witness."

"All of them..."

He pointed toward me.

"...came from the same choice."

I stared at him.

"What choice?"

He smiled.

"The choice to ask."

The person from the hospital stepped closer.

"And that’s why you are dangerous."

"Because you can ask questions nobody else can."

"Because every question creates a possibility."

"Because every possibility can become real."

The darkness around us began trembling.

I looked around.

"What’s happening?"

The other Adrian looked toward the ceiling.

"The Witness found us."

I felt the pressure immediately.

Thousands of eyes appeared in the darkness.

The person from the hospital stepped backward.

"You have to go."

"Where?"

"Back."

"Back where?"

"Alisster."

"Why?"

"Because that’s where the first door is."

I frowned.

"The first door is here."

"No."

They shook their head.

"This is the memory of the first door."

"Then where is the real one?"

They looked at me.

"Under the hospital."

The other Adrian nodded.

"You have to open it."

"Why?"

"Because your father is waiting."

"My father?"

"Yes."

"What’s he doing there?"

"He found the door six years ago."

"And?"

"He opened it."

I stared.

"What happened?"

The person smiled sadly.

"He went through."

"And he never came back."

"No."

"Then how is he alive?"

They looked toward me.

"Because he isn’t."

My chest tightened.

"What?"

"He died six years ago."

"Then who was at my house?"

The other Adrian’s expression darkened.

"A memory."

I shook my head.

"No."

"A memory doesn’t talk."

"Not ordinary memories."

The person stepped closer.

"Your father was an anchor."

"His memory remained."

"Someone has been using it to guide you."

"Who?"

They looked toward the darkness.

The Witness’s eyes began closing.

The person whispered,

"The Keeper."

The last eye closed.

Everything went black.

Then I heard my father’s voice.

"Adrian."

I opened my eyes.

I was lying on the floor of my old bedroom.

My mother was kneeling beside me.

Noah stood near the door.

Ryan, Marcus, Ethan and Daniel were crowded behind him.

Everyone looked terrified.

"Adrian?"

I sat up.

"What happened?"

My mother hugged me.

"You collapsed."

I looked around.

The house was back.

Alisster.

My old room.

Everything normal.

Except for one thing.

The black key was gone.

In its place was a piece of paper.

I picked it up.

Three words were written on it.

UNDER THE HOSPITAL.

Then another sentence appeared.

COME ALONE.

I looked at Noah.

He immediately shook his head.

"No."

I hadn’t said anything.

He already knew.

"You’re not going alone."

I folded the paper.

"Fine."

Ryan smiled.

"Good."

Marcus nodded.

Ethan sighed.

Daniel looked nervous.

"Where are we going?"

I looked toward the window.

At the distant hospital.

The place where everything had supposedly ended.

The place where my body had been found.

The place where my father had disappeared.

And now...

The place where the first door was waiting.

I stood.

"We’re going to the hospital."

My mother grabbed my arm.

"Don’t."

I looked at her.

"Why?"

She looked terrified.

"Because your father told me one thing before he disappeared."

"What?"

She swallowed.

"If Adrian ever comes back..."

Her voice broke.

"...never let him open the door beneath the hospital."

I stared at her.

Then looked toward the city.

For the first time...

I understood why.

My father hadn’t disappeared because he was searching for me.

He had disappeared because he was trying to keep me away from the place where I had started.

And now...

I was going there anyway.

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