Lord of Perverted Ladies

My mother had remembered me.

That was the first thought that entered my mind.

The second was that something was very wrong.

I was standing in darkness.

Not the darkness of the Last World.

Not the darkness behind one of the Story’s doors.

This darkness felt different.

It had no space.

No distance.

No direction.

I couldn’t tell whether I was standing, floating, or falling.

I couldn’t even see my own hands.

"Hello?"

My voice disappeared immediately.

No echo.

No response.

Nothing.

Then I heard breathing.

Someone was standing behind me.

I turned.

Nothing.

Another breath.

Closer.

I spun around again.

Still nothing.

Then a child’s voice whispered beside my ear.

"Don’t look."

I froze.

The voice sounded familiar.

"Who are you?"

"You already know."

"The child?"

"No."

"The original?"

"No."

"Then who?"

A pause.

"The first memory."

The darkness suddenly disappeared.

I was standing in my childhood home.

But this wasn’t the house from the Last World.

This was my real home.

The walls were covered with photographs.

My mother.

My father.

Me.

Except there was something strange.

Every photograph had been altered.

In one, I was missing.

In another, my father was missing.

In another, my mother was missing.

Some showed people I’d never met.

Others showed completely different versions of my family.

I walked toward the largest photograph.

It showed three people.

My mother.

My father.

And me.

But I wasn’t a child.

I was an adult.

Standing between them.

All three were smiling.

I touched the photograph.

The surface rippled.

Then the image changed.

My father was gone.

My mother stood alone.

Holding a baby.

Me.

She was crying.

I heard her voice.

"I shouldn’t have asked."

The memory shifted.

Another image.

My mother was standing in the underground laboratory.

The same laboratory beneath Alisster.

She was younger.

The original Adrian stood beside her.

They were arguing.

"You can’t do this," he said.

"I have to."

"You don’t know what he’ll become."

"I know exactly what he’ll become."

"He could destroy everything."

"He could save everything."

"That’s not your decision."

She looked at him.

"It already is."

The memory stopped.

I stared.

"What were they talking about?"

The first memory answered.

"You."

I turned.

The child stood behind me.

This time, he wasn’t six.

He was thirteen.

The same age I had been when everything changed.

"What happened when I was thirteen?"

He looked at me.

"You remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"Everything."

I frowned.

"Then why don’t I remember?"

"Because you were afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of yourself."

The room began shaking.

Photographs fell from the walls.

The house distorted.

I grabbed the child.

"What happened?"

He didn’t resist.

"You asked for the memory to be erased."

"I asked?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you saw the final memory."

"What is it?"

He looked at me.

"The beginning."

I released him.

"What does that mean?"

"You were there."

"Where?"

"Before the Story."

The house vanished.

I was standing somewhere else.

A white room.

No doors.

No windows.

A single chair.

And sitting in that chair...

was me.

Not the me I knew.

Not the original.

Not the child.

This version looked exactly like me now.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same body.

But his expression was exhausted.

He looked at me.

"You finally made it."

I couldn’t speak.

He smiled.

"I wondered how long it would take."

"Who are you?"

"You."

"Another version?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He stood.

"The first."

I stared.

"You said that before."

"I know."

"But you aren’t the child."

"No."

"You’re the first version of me."

He nodded.

"The first consciousness."

"Before Adrian?"

"Before the name."

"Before the Story?"

"Before reality."

I couldn’t understand.

"That’s impossible."

He laughed.

"Reality itself is impossible."

He walked toward me.

"You weren’t born into this universe."

"Then where?"

"There was no where."

"What?"

"There was nothing."

"Then how did I exist?"

"You didn’t."

He touched my forehead.

"You were imagined."

I felt a chill.

"By whom?"

He smiled.

"Everyone."

The room disappeared.

I saw countless people.

Humans.

Aliens.

Monsters.

Machines.

Godlike beings.

People from different worlds.

Different realities.

Different eras.

They were all asking questions.

Why do we exist?

What happens after death?

What is beyond reality?

Can something exist simply because we believe it can?

Every question created a possibility.

Every possibility created a thought.

Every thought created a memory.

And somewhere between them...

I appeared.

Not as a person.

As an answer.

I was the answer to a question nobody remembered asking.

Then one person heard me.

My mother.

She was standing alone in the darkness.

She looked toward me.

"Can you hear me?"

I answered.

"Yes."

She cried.

Not from fear.

From relief.

"You exist."

"Yes."

"What are you?"

"I don’t know."

"What do you want?"

I thought for a moment.

"To exist."

She smiled.

"Then I’ll make you real."

The memory shattered.

I returned to the white room.

The first version of me stood there.

"She was the first person who heard you."

I nodded.

"She became your mother."

"Yes."

"But she didn’t create you."

"No."

"She gave you a place to exist."

I looked at him.

"Then who created me?"

He smiled.

"You did."

I frowned.

"How?"

"You asked yourself to exist."

The room became silent.

"That doesn’t make sense."

"It doesn’t have to."

He walked past me.

"Existence doesn’t begin with creation."

"It begins with recognition."

I thought about the commands.

Reality heard me.

The Listener.

That was why.

I wasn’t controlling reality.

I was recognized by it.

The first memory continued.

"Your mother brought you into the physical world."

"The original Adrian protected you."

"The Scriptorium studied you."

"The Story contained you."

"And you..."

He looked at me.

"...kept choosing yourself."

"Then why did I forget?"

"Because you saw the end."

"What end?"

He turned.

"The final command."

I felt my heart sink.

"Command Seven."

He nodded.

"What is it?"

He smiled.

"The command that ends the Story."

"How?"

"By making the Listener disappear."

I stared at him.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you discovered the truth."

"What truth?"

He looked directly into my eyes.

"Reality cannot exist forever."

I frowned.

"Everything ends."

"Not reality."

He shook his head.

"Reality requires an observer."

"The moment nobody remembers it..."

He paused.

"...it stops being real."

I understood.

Memory wasn’t just a record.

It was an anchor.

As long as someone remembered something, it existed.

That was why the Last World existed.

Why forgotten possibilities survived.

Why the Story continued.

Why I could return from impossible places.

Because someone remembered.

The first version stepped closer.

"You are the final memory."

"Of what?"

"Everything."

"Then if I disappear..."

"Everything eventually follows."

I stared at him.

"That’s why someone wants to stop me."

He nodded.

"My mother."

I remembered the scene.

Her younger self.

Standing in the laboratory.

"I shouldn’t have asked."

She had created me.

But she had also created the possibility of ending everything.

"Who was standing behind her?"

The first version’s expression changed.

"Her."

"Who?"

"The other one."

"The woman with black eyes."

I felt cold.

"Who is she?"

"My mother."

I froze.

"My mother?"

"The original."

I shook my head.

"No."

"Your mother has always been two people."

"One became your mother."

"The other became the Guardian."

"Guardian of what?"

"The final memory."

The room shook.

A crack appeared in the wall.

The black-eyed woman stepped through.

She looked exactly like my mother.

Same face.

Same voice.

But there was nothing warm about her.

"Enough."

The first version disappeared.

I turned toward her.

"You."

She smiled.

"Finally."

"What do you want?"

"You."

"Why?"

"Because you’re the last thing preventing the Story from ending."

"I don’t want to end anything."

"I know."

She walked closer.

"That’s why you’re dangerous."

I raised my hand.

Reality trembled.

She didn’t move.

"You can’t command me."

"Why?"

"Because I existed before you."

She touched my forehead.

"You were the answer."

"I was the question."

The world froze.

I couldn’t move.

She leaned closer.

"And now..."

Her black eyes began glowing.

"...I’m going to show you what you asked for."

The room vanished.

I saw Alisster.

But it wasn’t the Alisster I knew.

There were no people.

No buildings.

No sky.

Nothing.

Just an empty white landscape.

Then I saw myself standing in the center.

Alone.

I was holding the wooden toy car.

My mother stood in front of me.

The original Adrian stood behind her.

Noah.

Ryan.

Everyone.

All of them.

Every person I’d ever known.

Every version.

Every world.

They were fading.

One by one.

I shouted.

"Stop!"

Nobody listened.

The black-eyed woman stood beside me.

"This is the future."

"No."

"You cannot save everything."

"I can try."

"That’s why you’ll lose."

The final version of me looked toward me.

Then spoke.

"Adrian."

I stared.

"Don’t listen to her."

"Who are you?"

"I’m you."

"Which one?"

"The last."

He held out the wooden car.

"Take it."

I did.

The moment I touched it, every memory returned.

My birth.

My mother.

The original Adrian.

The first command.

The Story.

The academy.

The Outside City.

The Last World.

Every death.

Every life.

Every choice.

Every version.

Everything.

I screamed.

The black-eyed woman stepped backward.

The final version smiled.

"Now you remember."

The world shattered.

I opened my eyes.

I was back in Alisster.

The city was burning.

The sky was red.

My father was standing in front of me.

Noah was shouting my name.

And my phone displayed one message.

FOUNDATIONAL COMMAND 07 UNLOCKED.

Beneath it was a single sentence.

END THE STORY.

I stared at it.

Then another message appeared.

WARNING: ACCEPTANCE WILL ERASE THE LISTENER.

My father grabbed my shoulder.

"Don’t."

I looked at him.

"I know."

"Then don’t do it."

I looked around.

At Alisster.

At my friends.

At my mother.

At every world connected to the Story.

Then I smiled.

"I’m not going to end the Story."

My phone vibrated.

A final message appeared.

THEN WHAT WILL YOU DO?

I looked toward the sky.

The answer had already formed in my mind.

"If the Story needs a Listener..."

I raised my hand.

"...then I’ll give it one."

The entire sky went silent.

The black-eyed woman appeared above the city.

For the first time...

she looked afraid.

Because she finally understood.

I wasn’t going to destroy the Story.

I was going to change who was listening.

And somewhere beyond every world...

something ancient whispered my name.

"Adrian Cross."

I smiled.

"Yeah."

"What are you?"

I looked at the endless sky.

Then answered.

"Still figuring that out."

And reality listened.

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