The door slid shut behind me with a dull click.
Silence followed.
Real silence.
Not the controlled quiet of public streets or the tense stillness around authority—but the kind that wrapped around a room and made every sound feel too loud. I stood there for a moment, unmoving, listening to my own breathing.
This was my assigned living space.
Small. Bare. Efficient.
A single narrow bed was fixed to the wall. A low table sat beside it with one chair. The walls were smooth and gray, faint symbols carved into the surface like scars that had healed badly. No windows. Just a soft light source embedded in the ceiling, glowing without warmth.
A cage pretending to be a room.
I exhaled slowly and set my hand against the door.
Locked.
Of course it was.
The control band on my wrist pulsed faintly, as if reminding me it existed.
I clenched my jaw.
Only then did I allow my shoulders to slump.
The moment I was alone, the weight hit me.
The street.
The kneeling man.
The casual violence.
My hands trembled.
I pressed them together hard, knuckles whitening, until the shaking stopped.
This world will kill you if you slip.
That truth had never felt clearer.
I moved to the center of the room and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was thin but firm. Practical. Uninviting.
Perfect.
For a man who wasn't meant to relax.
I stared at my hands.
They looked normal. Slender. Slight calluses along the fingers—signs of labor, not combat. I flexed them slowly, testing my grip.
Weak.
Still weak.
But…
I closed my eyes.
The moment I did, I felt it again.
That pressure.
Deep in my chest.
It wasn't flowing like warmth or breath. It sat there heavy and compressed, like something coiled too tightly, waiting. When I focused on it, my heartbeat grew louder, slower, more deliberate.
Don't rush.
I remembered the room shaking.
The officer's eyes.
Being noticed now would be death.
I swallowed and forced my breathing to steady.
Carefully, cautiously, I tried to touch that feeling.
The instant I did—
Pain exploded behind my eyes.
I gasped, doubling forward as something sharp tore through my chest, like my ribs were being pried apart from the inside. My teeth clenched hard enough that my jaw ached.
Too much.
Too fast.
I pulled back instinctively.
The pain faded, leaving behind a dull ache and a cold sweat soaking my back.
I sat there hunched over, breathing heavily.
"…So that's how it is," I muttered hoarsely.
Women in this world cultivated naturally. Smoothly. Power flowed for them like water finding its course.
Mine?
It fought me.
No.
It resisted the world itself.
I waited until my heartbeat returned to normal, then tried again—more gently this time. I didn't reach inward. I didn't grab.
I listened.
The pressure responded.
Barely.
A faint thrum echoed through my chest, slow and deliberate. My skin prickled. The air around me felt thicker, heavier, as if the room had sunk slightly.
The light overhead flickered.
I opened my eyes.
The symbols carved into the wall were glowing faintly.
Not brightly.
Uneasily.
Like they didn't want to.
I froze.
Those symbols hadn't reacted when women were nearby. I'd seen them in public buildings, streets, checkpoints. They were stable, responsive, obedient.
Now?
They pulsed out of rhythm.
A thin crack appeared in one of the carvings, spreading like a spiderweb before stopping abruptly.
I released my focus instantly.
The glow vanished.
The crack remained.
My breath caught.
"…I didn't even do anything," I whispered.
Fear crept up my spine.
This wasn't power the world accepted.
This was power the world rejected.
I stood slowly, legs tense, and took a step back as if the walls might respond again. The room settled into stillness, but the air felt wrong now—like it remembered what I'd done.
I paced.
One step. Then another.
Each movement felt watched.
Think. Don't panic.
That surge earlier… it hadn't felt like the women's power at all. There was no sense of harmony, no alignment with the environment.
It was closer to—
Will.
Pressure.
Control.
I stopped pacing and looked at my reflection in the smooth wall.
The face staring back at me was calm on the surface.
Inside, something dangerous stirred.
"What are you?" I asked quietly.
No answer.
But as the words left my mouth, I felt it again—that deep response. Not emotional. Not intelligent.
Instinctive.
As if the question itself had meaning.
My gaze dropped to my chest.
For a brief moment—just a moment—I thought I saw something beneath my skin. A faint outline. A shape that didn't belong to muscle or bone.
A symbol.
It vanished before I could focus on it.
My heart slammed.
I pressed a hand against my chest, skin cool beneath my palm.
Nothing.
But the feeling lingered.
Not power.
Ownership.
Like something inside me recognized me.
I staggered back and sat heavily on the bed.
This wasn't cultivation.
This wasn't awakening.
This was… intrusion.
Or inheritance.
I didn't know which scared me more.
I glanced at the control band on my wrist.
Still dark.
Still silent.
I tested my focus again, barely touching that pressure inside.
The band flickered.
Once.
Then steadied.
I sucked in a breath.
"So you react too," I murmured.
That confirmed it.
The band wasn't suppressing power.
It was reacting to something it couldn't classify.
I lay back slowly on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
My body ached faintly now, like I'd strained muscles I didn't know existed. Every heartbeat carried a dull echo through my ribs.
If I pushed too hard, I might lose control.
If I lost control…
I remembered the man slammed into the ground.
The red flash.
The helplessness.
Resistance equals death.
That wasn't a threat.
It was a rule.
I closed my eyes again, forcing myself to relax.
"Not yet," I whispered. "I'll survive first."
Time passed.
Minutes? Hours?
I wasn't sure.
The room never changed. The light didn't dim or brighten. There was no sense of day or night.
Eventually, the pressure inside me settled, sinking deeper, quieter—but not gone.
Like a beast lying down instead of leaving.
Just as I began to think I was alone again—
A chill ran through me.
My eyes snapped open.
The air felt… disturbed.
Not physically.
Instinctively.
The pressure inside my chest shifted, tightening—not violently, but alertly. Like something had sensed danger before I consciously understood it.
I sat up slowly.
The control band pulsed faintly.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
My skin crawled.
"…Someone's here," I whispered.
Not inside the room.
But close.
Too close.
And whatever it was—
It wasn't curious.
It was searching.
I held my breath as the walls seemed to lean inward, and deep inside me, that forbidden presence stirred again—wide awake.
Watching back.