Lord of Perverted Ladies

Nobody spoke.

The question remained across the sky.

WHO CREATED THE CREATOR?

I stared at it.

For the first time since I had discovered what I truly was, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Uncertainty.

Not fear.

Not confusion.

Something deeper.

The feeling of standing before a locked door without even knowing whether there was a room behind it.

Noah slowly walked beside me.

"So..."

He looked upward.

"Do you have any idea?"

"No."

Ryan sighed.

"That’s probably the worst answer you could give."

"I know."

My father stepped closer.

"Don’t answer it."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because every question you’ve answered has changed reality."

"The first question created existence."

"The commands changed the Story."

"And your last answer gave the Guardian choice."

He pointed toward the sky.

"Whatever this question creates could be worse."

The Guardian remained silent.

She was staring at the message.

Her expression was unlike anything I’d seen before.

Not afraid.

Not curious.

She looked almost offended.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"I don’t understand."

"That’s normal."

"No."

She looked at me.

"I understand everything now."

"Then what’s wrong?"

"This question shouldn’t exist."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn’t the one who asked it."

The entire group went quiet.

The Guardian looked toward the sky.

"After you gave me choice, I felt every possibility."

"Every emotion."

"Every memory."

"Every question."

"But this..."

She pointed upward.

"This isn’t coming from a person."

I frowned.

"Then where is it coming from?"

She whispered,

"Everything."

The ground trembled.

Not violently.

Almost like a heartbeat.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

The city lights flickered.

People stopped walking.

Every screen in Alisster displayed the same question.

Every phone.

Every window.

Every reflective surface.

WHO CREATED THE CREATOR?

A woman screamed.

Someone ran into the street.

Vehicles crashed into each other.

Panic spread through the city.

My father looked at me.

"They’re seeing it."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone."

I looked around.

The question wasn’t inside the Story anymore.

It had entered reality itself.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

I had created the Story.

I had changed the Listener.

I had even created Choice.

But this...

This was something else.

A question that didn’t need me.

A question that had appeared by itself.

The Guardian walked toward me.

"Adrian."

"Yeah?"

"You need to understand something."

"What?"

"If the universe can ask a question without a Creator..."

She looked upward.

"...then the universe can create without one."

I stared at her.

That meant only one thing.

Creation had become independent.

My father immediately understood.

"Then the Creator is no longer necessary."

"Correct."

Ryan scratched his head.

"So... that’s good, right?"

Nobody answered.

He looked around.

"Okay. Definitely not good."

The First Reader stepped forward.

"There is another possibility."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"The question might not be asking who created you."

"Then what is it asking?"

He pointed toward the words.

"Maybe it’s asking who created the idea of a Creator."

I frowned.

"What’s the difference?"

"Everything."

He walked closer.

"Think about it."

"The first question created you."

"You created reality."

"Reality created the Origin."

"The Origin shaped existence."

"But what created the concept of creation itself?"

I stared at him.

The question suddenly felt much bigger.

Maybe the Origin wasn’t the beginning.

Maybe I wasn’t the beginning.

Maybe even the first question wasn’t the beginning.

Perhaps every beginning had something before it.

Something that created the possibility of beginnings.

The Guardian suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Don’t."

I looked at her.

"What?"

"Don’t follow that thought."

"Why?"

"Because I can see where it leads."

"Where?"

She stared into my eyes.

"Nowhere."

I didn’t understand.

"Nothing exists beyond it."

"That’s impossible."

"Exactly."

She released me.

"If you search for the first creator, you’ll eventually reach the point where there is no creator."

"No cause."

"No thought."

"No question."

"Only nothing."

I looked upward.

"Maybe that’s the answer."

The Guardian shook her head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because nothing cannot ask a question."

"But this question exists."

"Exactly."

She looked terrified.

"Something is asking it."

The sky suddenly cracked.

A black line appeared through the clouds.

Then another.

Then hundreds.

The cracks formed a gigantic circle.

The same symbol that had appeared when I answered the Guardian’s question.

Except this time, it was upside down.

The First Reader stepped backward.

"I’ve seen that before."

"Where?"

"In the oldest records."

"What did they call it?"

He swallowed.

"The Unasked."

I frowned.

"The what?"

"The question that existed before questions."

The cracks widened.

A sound came from the sky.

Not a voice.

Not music.

A heartbeat.

Boom.

The city shook.

Boom.

Windows shattered.

Boom.

The ground split.

My mother grabbed my hand.

"Adrian."

I looked at her.

She was trembling.

"I’ve heard that sound before."

"Where?"

"Before I met you."

My heart stopped.

"Where?"

"In the silence."

I looked at the Guardian.

She nodded.

"I remember."

"When?"

"Before reality."

The heartbeat came again.

Boom.

Everything stopped.

Every person froze.

Every vehicle stopped mid-motion.

Even the falling pieces of glass remained suspended in the air.

Only five people could move.

Me.

My mother.

The Guardian.

My father.

And Noah.

Everyone else was frozen.

Noah looked around.

"Why can we move?"

The Guardian answered.

"Because he remembers us."

I frowned.

"Who?"

She looked upward.

"The thing asking the question."

A shadow appeared in the sky.

Not a body.

Not a creature.

A silhouette.

It was shaped like a person.

But its head was missing.

Its hands were missing.

Its entire body was incomplete.

Like reality had started creating something and then stopped halfway.

It slowly descended.

My father raised his weapon.

"Stay behind me."

I stepped forward.

"No."

"Adrian."

"If it wants to ask me something..."

I looked at the incomplete figure.

"...I’ll hear it."

The figure stopped in front of me.

Then a voice entered my mind.

"I HAVE BEEN WAITING."

I didn’t move.

"How long?"

"BEFORE TIME."

"Why?"

"YOU WERE NOT READY."

"For what?"

The figure tilted its head.

"TO ASK THE SECOND QUESTION."

I frowned.

"Second?"

The first question was why I existed.

Then the Guardian’s question.

What would I create if nobody remembered it?

And now this.

"Which one is the second question?"

The figure pointed at the Guardian.

"SHE ASKED IT."

The Guardian froze.

"What?"

"SHE ASKED: WHAT IS MEANING?"

I stared at her.

She had forgotten.

Or perhaps she had never known.

The figure continued.

"YOU ANSWERED."

I nodded.

"Choice."

"CORRECT."

"Then this is the third question."

The figure nodded.

"YES."

"Who created the Creator?"

"YES."

I took a breath.

"Then I’ll answer."

My mother grabbed my arm.

"No."

I looked at her.

"Mom."

"You don’t understand."

"I understand enough."

"No."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"If you answer this one..."

She looked at the sky.

"...you may create something that cannot be stopped."

I looked at the incomplete figure.

"What if I don’t answer?"

The figure responded.

"THEN THE QUESTION WILL ANSWER ITSELF."

I froze.

"What does that mean?"

"YOU WILL FIND OUT."

The Guardian stepped forward.

"Adrian."

I looked at her.

She was smiling.

Not happily.

Peacefully.

"I think I know what you should do."

"What?"

"Don’t answer."

Everyone looked at her.

My father frowned.

"You just said he should—"

"I know."

She looked at me.

"For the first time, let the universe choose."

I stared.

"You’re asking me to do nothing."

"Yes."

"But I’m the Creator."

"No."

She smiled.

"That’s exactly what we’ve been trying to teach you."

I looked at my hands.

The hands of a Creator.

The hands of Adrian.

The same hands.

For my entire life, I’d believed that having power meant I needed to use it.

Fix things.

Save people.

Change outcomes.

Answer questions.

But perhaps creation wasn’t about controlling everything.

Maybe it was about knowing when to let something exist without controlling it.

I lowered my hand.

"I’m not answering."

The incomplete figure became completely still.

The question above us began changing.

Letters rearranged themselves.

WHO CREATED THE CREATOR?

Then the words disappeared.

A new sentence appeared.

THE CREATOR DID.

I stared.

"What?"

The Guardian’s eyes widened.

The First Reader whispered,

"No..."

The sky cracked again.

The figure began transforming.

Its missing head appeared.

Then its arms.

Its body became complete.

And when I saw its face...

I couldn’t breathe.

It was mine.

Not the older version.

Not the original.

Not the child.

Mine.

Exactly as I looked now.

It smiled.

"I knew you wouldn’t answer."

I stared at it.

"Who are you?"

It stepped forward.

"I am the answer to your first question."

My heart stopped.

"The Origin?"

"No."

"The first version?"

"No."

"Then what?"

It smiled.

"I am what created you after you created yourself."

My mind went blank.

That sentence shouldn’t have been possible.

"You created yourself."

It pointed at me.

"Then you created me."

I shook my head.

"Why would I create you?"

"Because you needed something greater than yourself."

"Why?"

"Because you were afraid of becoming the end."

The figure stepped closer.

"So you created a being that could exist beyond you."

I looked toward my mother.

She couldn’t speak.

The Guardian slowly backed away.

Even she didn’t understand.

The figure continued.

"You called me the future."

I stared.

"I don’t remember."

"You erased the memory."

"Why?"

"Because you knew that if you remembered me..."

It smiled.

"...you would never become human."

I felt something inside my mind crack.

A forgotten memory surfaced.

A white room.

A younger version of me.

Standing beside this same figure.

I heard my own voice.

"If I ever become the Creator again..."

The figure answered.

"I’ll stop you."

I had created my own successor.

Not to rule reality.

Not to protect it.

But to stop me if I ever became something dangerous.

I looked at the figure.

"You were my failsafe."

It smiled.

"Exactly."

Then its eyes turned black.

"But there’s one problem."

"What?"

"You’ve already become the Creator."

The entire city trembled.

The frozen people began moving again.

The sky returned to normal.

The figure leaned closer.

"And now I have to decide..."

It raised one hand.

"...whether you are still worthy of being one."

I clenched my fists.

"You think you can judge me?"

"No."

It smiled.

"I don’t have to."

Behind it, millions of doors appeared across the sky.

Every door opened simultaneously.

Behind each one was a different version of reality.

Different Alissters.

Different worlds.

Different lives.

Different endings.

The figure looked at me.

"Your creations will judge you."

I stared at the impossible sight.

"What does that mean?"

It stepped backward.

"You wanted everyone to have choice."

"So give them one."

Every door began showing the people inside.

Every version of my friends.

Every version of my family.

Every world I had created.

And every one of them was looking directly at me.

The figure spoke one final sentence.

"Let them decide whether their Creator deserves to exist."

Then it vanished.

The doors remained.

And above them, a new message appeared.

CREATOR TRIAL INITIATED.

I stared at the endless worlds.

For the first time...

reality wasn’t asking me to make a choice.

It was asking everyone else to make one about me.

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