Lord of Perverted Ladies

The laughter came from the red doorway.

My laughter.

But younger.

Much younger.

The sound carried across the frozen-looking sky for a few seconds before fading into the night.

Nobody moved.

Even the white-eyed version of me had gone completely still.

I looked at him.

"You said that isn’t one of the commands."

"It isn’t."

"Then what is it?"

"I don’t know."

That answer bothered me more than anything else.

He had always seemed to know.

The original.

The Listener’s echo.

The version that remembered things I didn’t.

But now he looked genuinely afraid.

My father stepped closer.

"We’re leaving."

I shook my head.

"No."

"Adrian."

"If that door is connected to me, I need to know why."

"You don’t know what’s inside."

"Exactly."

The First Reader interrupted.

"He’s right."

My father looked at him.

"You want him to open it?"

"No."

The First Reader stared at the red doorway.

"But whatever is inside has already noticed him."

The Editor looked up.

"That’s the problem."

I followed her gaze.

The red doorway wasn’t floating randomly anymore.

It had moved.

It was directly above me.

As if it had chosen its position.

Then something fell from it.

A small object landed at my feet.

A wooden toy.

I recognized it immediately.

My old toy car.

I’d owned one exactly like it when I was a child.

I picked it up.

The moment my fingers touched it, a memory exploded through my mind.

A little boy running through a hallway.

My mother laughing.

My father chasing me.

Someone else sitting on the floor.

A girl.

The person from the hospital.

She was younger.

Much younger.

She looked about ten.

She was holding the same toy car.

I heard my younger voice.

"That’s mine."

She laughed.

"No."

"Give it back."

"You have three others."

"I want that one."

She held it behind her back.

"Then catch me."

The memory changed.

We were older.

Then older.

Then older.

Every few seconds, another memory.

The two of us growing up together.

Arguments.

Laughter.

Rain.

School.

The hospital.

Her hand in mine.

Then the final memory.

The night before I disappeared.

She stood outside the hospital.

I was holding the wooden car.

She looked worried.

"You shouldn’t go."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I finally found the answer."

"What answer?"

I looked toward the hospital.

"Where we came from."

She grabbed my arm.

"Adrian, please."

I smiled.

"I’ll come back."

She shook her head.

"You always say that."

"I mean it this time."

She stared at me.

"Then take this."

She placed the wooden car in my hand.

"I don’t need it."

"You do."

"Why?"

"Because if you forget me..."

Her voice broke.

"...you’ll remember this."

The memory vanished.

I opened my eyes.

The wooden car was still in my hand.

I couldn’t speak.

My father was watching me.

"You remember."

I nodded.

"She gave me this."

"Yes."

"She knew."

"She always knew."

"About the Story?"

"About everything."

I looked at the red doorway.

"Then why is it called the Last World?"

My father didn’t answer.

The First Reader did.

"Because that’s where memories go when they have nowhere else to exist."

I frowned.

"Explain."

"The Outside City contains possibilities."

"The Story contains narratives."

"The Archive contains records."

"But memories that belong to no surviving reality..."

He looked at the red doorway.

"...go there."

"So it’s a graveyard."

"No."

He shook his head.

"It’s worse."

"How?"

"Graveyards contain the dead."

"The Last World contains things that were never allowed to die."

The red doorway widened.

A staircase appeared beyond it.

Descending.

The white-eyed version stepped forward.

"Don’t go."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because once you enter, you’ll remember everything."

"Everything?"

"Your first life."

"The original."

"The Story."

"The academy."

"All of it."

"That’s what I wanted."

"No."

His expression hardened.

"You don’t understand."

"If you remember everything..."

He paused.

"...you’ll remember why you forgot."

That stopped me.

"Why did I forget?"

"Because you asked me to make you forget."

"Again."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He looked away.

"Because you discovered what the Last World contained."

"What?"

"The final version of you."

My stomach tightened.

"What does that mean?"

He looked at me.

"Every version of Adrian was created from a choice."

"The Writer."

"The Reader."

"The Observer."

"The Listener."

"The Character."

"Every one."

He pointed toward the red doorway.

"But there is one version that wasn’t created by a choice."

"Which one?"

"The one who existed before you chose anything."

I stared.

"The original."

"No."

He shook his head.

"The first Adrian."

"He’s dead."

"The body is."

"What about the rest?"

"The memory survived."

"In the Last World."

I looked at the staircase.

"That’s what’s inside."

"Yes."

My father grabbed my arm.

"Adrian, listen to me."

I looked at him.

"Your grandfather entered that world."

"And he came back."

"No."

He shook his head.

"He didn’t."

"Then how did we get his records?"

"Someone brought them out."

"Who?"

My father hesitated.

"Your mother."

I froze.

"What?"

"She went there."

"When?"

"Before you were born."

I stared at him.

"Why?"

"To retrieve something."

"What?"

"Your original memory."

I looked toward the red doorway.

"So that’s where my mother came from."

"Yes."

"She wasn’t born here."

"No."

"She came from the Last World."

"Yes."

"Then what is she?"

My father looked at me.

"A memory that became a person."

I couldn’t speak.

Everything I’d learned about my mother suddenly felt unstable.

But one thing didn’t.

She had raised me.

She had loved me.

Whatever she had been before...

She was still my mother.

I looked at the red doorway.

"I’m going."

My father sighed.

"I knew you would."

Noah stepped forward.

"I’m coming."

Ryan immediately followed.

"Same."

Marcus nodded.

Ethan and Daniel exchanged a glance.

Daniel sighed.

"Obviously."

The First Reader stepped forward.

"I’ll come too."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because the Last World remembers things even I don’t."

The Editor joined him.

Lucien remained behind.

"Someone needs to stay here."

My father looked at him.

"Then I stay."

I nodded.

"Let’s go."

We stepped through the red doorway.

The world changed instantly.

There was no city.

No sky.

No ground.

We stood in a massive landscape filled with floating pieces of memory.

A kitchen floated upside down.

A school corridor stretched endlessly.

A hospital room hung in the distance.

A bedroom rotated slowly through the air.

Thousands of memories drifted around us like fragments of glass.

Some contained people.

Some contained voices.

Some contained nothing but emotions.

Ryan reached toward one.

"Don’t touch."

The First Reader’s warning came too late.

Ryan’s finger brushed the memory.

He suddenly froze.

"Ryan?"

His eyes widened.

"I remember..."

"What?"

He looked at me.

"I remember a life where we never met."

The memory shattered.

Ryan stumbled backward.

I caught him.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing."

He swallowed.

"Just...me."

"Without us."

He looked shaken.

The First Reader spoke.

"That’s why the Last World is dangerous."

"It doesn’t show you what happened."

"It shows you what could have mattered."

We continued.

The farther we walked, the more familiar everything became.

My childhood.

My school.

My first day at the academy.

The hospital.

The Scriptorium.

Every memory I’d ever lost.

I saw the original Adrian.

Hundreds of times.

Sometimes he was a child.

Sometimes a teenager.

Sometimes an adult.

Sometimes he was laughing.

Sometimes crying.

Sometimes alone.

Then I saw him standing beside my mother.

He looked at her.

She smiled.

"I found him."

The original asked,

"Who?"

She pointed toward a small child.

Me.

The original stared.

"He looks like me."

"He is you."

"No."

She shook her head.

"He isn’t."

"Then what is he?"

She smiled.

"Your chance."

The memory dissolved.

I stopped walking.

"My chance."

The First Reader looked at me.

"That’s what she called you."

"Why?"

"Because she believed you could become something the original couldn’t."

"What?"

"Happy."

I looked down.

The answer felt almost painfully simple.

The original Adrian wanted to change reality because he couldn’t accept his own ending.

My mother didn’t want to change reality.

She wanted to give me a chance to live inside it.

The Last World began trembling.

Every memory suddenly turned toward us.

People inside the memories looked at me.

Thousands of eyes.

Then they all said the same thing.

"Adrian."

I stepped backward.

The First Reader raised his weapon.

"They’re waking."

"Who?"

"The memories."

The ground cracked.

A massive structure rose from beneath us.

A house.

My childhood home.

But much larger.

Impossible.

Its windows glowed red.

The front door opened.

Someone stood inside.

A child.

Me.

Maybe six years old.

He held the wooden car.

He looked at me.

Then smiled.

"You’re late."

I stared.

"Who are you?"

The child tilted his head.

"You."

"No."

"Yes."

"Which version?"

The child smiled.

"The first."

The First Reader whispered,

"No..."

The child stepped outside.

"You’ve spent so long trying to find the original."

He looked at me.

"But you never asked the important question."

"What?"

"Who was here before him?"

The Last World trembled.

Behind the child, thousands of memories began disappearing.

The child raised the wooden car.

"Do you remember?"

I felt something inside me break open.

A memory I’d never seen before surfaced.

Not the original Adrian.

Not the Story.

Not the hospital.

Something older.

Before Alisster.

Before the Scriptorium.

Before my parents.

Before I had a name.

I was standing in darkness.

Someone was holding me.

And a voice whispered:

"You don’t belong to this world."

The memory ended.

I opened my eyes.

The child was smiling.

"You finally remembered."

I couldn’t speak.

The First Reader looked terrified.

"What did you remember?"

I stared at the child.

"I wasn’t born."

The child nodded.

"I was found."

"Where?"

He pointed beneath us.

"Here."

The Last World cracked open.

Something enormous moved underneath.

The child whispered,

"And now..."

The red sky above us split apart.

"...it wants you back."

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