Lord of Perverted Ladies

I couldn’t move.

She stood on the other side of the doorway.

Alive.

Smiling.

Exactly as I remembered.

The same eyes.

The same voice.

The same expression she used whenever she knew I was about to make a terrible decision.

"Adrian."

Her hand remained extended.

"Come home."

Behind me, nobody spoke.

Even the city seemed to have stopped.

I stared at her.

For years, I had chased this moment.

I had crossed worlds.

Broken rules.

Fought monsters.

Entered stories.

Lost memories.

Found versions of myself.

And now she was standing in front of me.

Alive.

Waiting.

All I had to do was step through.

The white-eyed version tightened his grip on my arm.

"Don’t."

I pulled away.

"Why?"

"Because that world isn’t real."

I looked through the doorway.

It looked real.

The sky was blue.

The sunlight was warm.

Birds flew above a quiet street.

People walked past.

Cars moved normally.

And she was standing there.

Alive.

"If it isn’t real, why can I see it?"

"Because it knows what you want."

I looked at her.

She smiled.

"You’ve always been stubborn."

My chest tightened.

She knew that.

She knew everything.

"How?"

The white-eyed version answered.

"It was built from your memories."

She stepped closer.

"Don’t listen to him."

I frowned.

"Who are you?"

She smiled.

"You know."

"Are you her?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me something only she would know."

She didn’t hesitate.

"The first time you met me, you spilled coffee on your shirt and pretended it was someone else’s fault."

Ryan quietly whispered behind me,

"That’s oddly specific."

I ignored him.

She continued.

"You blamed the table."

I remembered.

It was real.

Or at least, I remembered it as real.

"Then you spent twenty minutes trying to clean it."

She smiled.

"And you failed."

My throat tightened.

"That’s not enough."

"Then ask me something else."

"What did you call me?"

She smiled.

"A coward."

I froze.

Nobody else knew that.

Not the academy.

Not the Scriptorium.

Not the versions.

Only her.

She had called me that the night I told her I was afraid of losing her.

"Why?"

"Because you were afraid to tell me how you felt."

I looked down.

My hands were shaking.

She extended her hand again.

"Come home."

I took one step.

The white-eyed version moved in front of me.

"You’re making a mistake."

"Maybe."

"You know what happens if you enter."

"No."

"Then think."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"Look at the people around you."

I turned.

Noah.

Ryan.

Marcus.

Ethan.

Daniel.

My father.

The First Reader.

The Editor.

All of them were watching.

Noah stepped forward.

"You don’t have to choose us."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"If you want to go..."

He swallowed.

"...go."

Ryan looked at him.

"Are you insane?"

Noah shook his head.

"No."

He looked at me.

"He’s spent his entire life making choices for everyone else."

"He finally gets one that’s only his."

My father closed his eyes.

I looked at the doorway again.

She was still waiting.

"What happens if I go?"

The white-eyed version answered.

"You’ll forget this world."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"My mother?"

"Yes."

"My father?"

"Yes."

"Noah?"

"Yes."

"The academy?"

"Yes."

"The Story?"

"Yes."

I looked at her.

"And you’ll remember me?"

She smiled.

"I never forgot you."

That answer hurt.

I stepped closer.

The doorway grew brighter.

Then I noticed something.

Her shadow.

It was wrong.

The sunlight was coming from behind her.

But her shadow stretched toward me.

Not away.

I stopped.

She noticed.

Her smile disappeared.

"What’s wrong?"

I stared at the shadow.

"You’re not her."

The white-eyed version exhaled.

"I told you."

She stepped backward.

"Adrian."

"You’re not her."

Her expression changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

The warmth disappeared.

Her eyes became empty.

"You promised."

I froze.

"What?"

"You promised you’d come back."

Her voice changed.

It became layered.

Multiple voices speaking together.

"You promised."

The world behind her began cracking.

The sky shattered like glass.

The buildings twisted.

People froze in place.

The road stretched endlessly.

Her face remained the same.

But something underneath it was trying to emerge.

I stepped backward.

"You’re the temptation."

She smiled.

"Finally."

The doorway exploded outward.

A wave of black energy swept across the street.

I raised my hand.

Reality responded.

The wave stopped.

For a moment, everything became silent.

Then the false world attacked.

The buildings collapsed inward.

The sky turned black.

Hundreds of versions of her appeared.

All of them spoke simultaneously.

"Come home."

I clenched my fist.

"No."

Every version screamed.

The sound shook the city.

"No!"

I pushed my hand forward.

The doorway shattered.

The entire false world collapsed.

The pieces turned into white dust.

And when the dust disappeared...

Nothing remained.

I stood before an empty doorway.

The First Reader slowly lowered his weapon.

"You rejected it."

I nodded.

"Yes."

The white-eyed version looked at me.

"Good."

I turned toward him.

"Why did it know so much?"

"Because it was built from your memories."

"Then some of those memories..."

"Are still inside you."

I looked toward the empty doorway.

"Was she ever real?"

He didn’t answer.

I already knew.

"Yes."

He nodded.

"She was."

"The person I loved."

"Yes."

"Then what happened to her?"

The original’s echo lowered his head.

"She died."

I closed my eyes.

This time...

I accepted it.

Not because it hurt less.

Because I finally understood that accepting something didn’t mean forgetting it.

It meant allowing it to remain what it was.

A memory.

Not a prison.

The black doorway vanished.

The sky returned to normal.

Alisster breathed again.

Cars began moving.

People started talking.

The worlds stabilized.

Then my phone vibrated.

I looked down.

One message.

FOUNDATIONAL COMMAND 03 ACCEPTED.

Then another.

THE TEMPTATION HAS BEEN REJECTED.

A third appeared.

THE LISTENER HAS CHOSEN REALITY OVER MEMORY.

I stared at the words.

Then another line appeared.

FOUNDATIONAL COMMAND 04 IS AVAILABLE.

I frowned.

"What is Command Four?"

The white-eyed version looked toward the sky.

"I don’t know."

"Then who does?"

He pointed toward my father.

Everyone looked at him.

My father sighed.

"I was hoping you’d never ask."

I walked toward him.

"You know."

"Yes."

"What is it?"

He hesitated.

"Command Four is the most dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn’t affect reality."

"Then what?"

"It affects identity."

I frowned.

"Meaning?"

"You can change who you are."

I stared at him.

"That’s already happened."

"No."

He shook his head.

"Not like this."

He pointed toward me.

"Command Four allows the Listener to rewrite their own identity."

The First Reader stepped forward.

"That command was never supposed to be used."

"Why?"

"Because identity is what keeps reality consistent."

"Without it?"

"Everything becomes interchangeable."

I thought about the versions.

The discarded worlds.

The alternate lives.

The different Adrians.

"So I could become anyone."

"Yes."

"And anyone could become me."

"Yes."

Ryan looked horrified.

"That sounds awful."

"It is."

I looked at my father.

"Why would the original create it?"

"He didn’t."

"Then who?"

My father looked toward the sky.

"The first question."

I felt that familiar pressure again.

The same presence.

The same invisible attention.

Something was listening.

Waiting.

Then the world changed.

A sound came from every direction.

A bell.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The city froze.

Every person stopped moving.

Every car stopped.

Even the wind disappeared.

A message appeared above Alisster.

FOUNDATIONAL COMMAND 04

IDENTITY REWRITE AVAILABLE

SELECT TARGET.

I stared.

"Target?"

The white-eyed version looked terrified.

"Don’t answer."

"What happens if I do?"

"You’ll give reality permission to redefine someone."

"Someone?"

"Anyone."

A list appeared.

Names.

Thousands.

Millions.

Every person in Alisster.

Every version.

Every person in the academy.

Every person in the Outside City.

Then I saw my mother’s name.

ELENA CROSS.

My heart stopped.

Next to it:

IDENTITY STATUS: INCOMPLETE.

I looked at my father.

"What does that mean?"

He didn’t answer.

"Dad."

His face had gone pale.

"Your mother isn’t who you think she is."

The world seemed to tilt.

"What?"

He looked toward the frozen city.

"She was never born in Alisster."

"Then where?"

"She came from the Outside City."

I stared.

"Why?"

"Because she was one of the first possibilities."

"Possibility of what?"

He looked at me.

"Of you."

I couldn’t breathe.

"What does that mean?"

"Your mother wasn’t created after you."

"She existed before you."

"And the original Adrian didn’t meet her by chance."

He paused.

"He found her."

I looked at the message.

IDENTITY REWRITE AVAILABLE.

My mother’s name remained highlighted.

Then another option appeared beneath it.

RESTORE ORIGINAL IDENTITY?

I felt cold.

"Restore?"

My father whispered,

"Don’t."

"Why?"

"Because if you restore her original identity..."

He looked at me.

"...you may erase the mother you know."

The screen waited.

One command.

One choice.

My mother had spent seven years mourning me.

She had loved me.

Raised me.

Protected me.

Maybe she had been something else before.

Maybe she had come from another world.

But she was still my mother.

I wasn’t going to erase her to uncover another truth.

I reached toward the screen.

"No."

The message flickered.

COMMAND DECLINED.

The world moved again.

Cars resumed.

People continued walking.

The wind returned.

The sky cleared.

And my phone displayed one final message.

COMMAND FOUR REJECTED.

Then:

YOU ARE LEARNING.

I stared at it.

The white-eyed version smiled.

"Three commands remain."

I looked at him.

"No."

His smile disappeared.

"What?"

I looked toward the city.

"I’m done letting these commands decide what happens next."

I turned to my father.

"Where is my mother?"

"At home."

"Then we’re going back."

"For what?"

"To ask her who she really is."

My father looked nervous.

"Adrian..."

"No more secrets."

He nodded reluctantly.

We began walking.

Behind us, the white-eyed version remained still.

I glanced back.

He was staring at the sky.

"What’s wrong?"

He didn’t answer.

Then he pointed upward.

I looked.

A new door had appeared above Alisster.

But this one wasn’t black.

It wasn’t white.

It was red.

And written across it were four words:

THE LAST WORLD REMEMBERS.

The white-eyed version whispered,

"That’s not one of the commands."

I stared at the door.

"Then what is it?"

He looked at me.

"The beginning of something worse."

The red door opened.

And somewhere inside...

A child began laughing.

My childlike laugh.

Again.

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