Free Web NovelMatt opened his eyes and didn't move. For a few seconds, he just stared at the stone ceiling.
The rest room was silent.
The forges were still cold.
The fountain still glimmered softly at the center.
And the bow-spear was beside him, leaning against the bed. Matt glanced at it from the corner of his eye.
The red core glowed faintly, as if it too were asleep.
'Lucky.'
Matt let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face.
His body didn't hurt anymore.
At least not physically.
That was the annoying part about the fountain.
It healed wounds.
Closed cuts.
Fixed muscles.
But it did absolutely nothing about the stupid ideas a voice lodged inside his head left behind before he slept.
Create another weapon.
A gun.
Separate her.
Let her take his place with the queen.
Go home.
Matt closed his eyes.
The idea didn't sound that bad.
That was the problem.
It sounded too convenient.
Too clean.
Too much like an open door in the middle of a room with no exits.
And Matt hated open doors — because almost always someone left them that way to lure you into a trap.
'Can I really trust her?'
The answer was obvious.
No.
He couldn't.
She had the same origin as Iris.
She had been born from his vampire blood, from that horrible thing the queen had put into his body.
Matt gritted his teeth.
The queen.
Iris.
Her blood.
His body.
It all started because of that woman.
Matt slowly opened his eyes.
And the memory came back.
◇◆◇
He had lost.
Again.
Matt remembered the final screen perfectly.
The defeat.
The chat comments.
The tense faces of his teammates.
The cameras aimed at them as if wanting to capture every second of humiliation to upload later with dramatic music.
'Great.'
Matt took off his headset and the noise of the crowd was still there.
Applause.
Shouts.
Comments.
Some cheering.
Others mocking.
Matt looked at the dark screen in front of him and exhaled through his nose.
He had played well.
That was the worst part.
He had played well and they still lost because one person can't carry four idiots with the collective gaming sense of a boiled potato.
'No. Don't think that in front of cameras.'
Matt raised his hand to the crowd, gave a small bow, and walked out with the team.
His expression was calm and professional, but inside he wanted to slam his head against the wall.
When they reached the private hallway, one of his teammates kicked an empty bottle.
"That was close."
Matt looked at him.
He said nothing.
'Close to what. Losing even faster?'
But he kept his mouth shut.
Because he was captain.
Because he had to be mature.
Because if he said what he was thinking, there'd probably be another twenty-page thread about his "attitude problem."
As he walked toward the team room, a woman from the organization approached.
"Matt."
He looked up.
"Yes?"
"There's a fan who wants to meet you personally."
Matt blinked.
"No."
The woman went still.
"No?"
"No."
Matt kept walking.
She caught up.
"She's an important fan."
"They all say that."
"No, really. She's supported the team a lot. Buys merchandise, premium tickets, private donations…"
Matt glanced at her sideways.
"We just lost."
"I know."
"I'm not in the mood to smile at someone while they tell me I'm their favorite player and then ask why my team plays like they're using their feet."
The woman winced.
"But she specifically asked to see you."
"How terrifying."
"Matt."
Matt sighed.
"Do I really have to go?"
"Well, it's not strictly mandatory… but it would be ideal."
Matt narrowed his eyes.
That sentence meant exactly the opposite.
The woman lowered her voice slightly.
"It would be good for relations with sponsors and important fans."
Matt closed his eyes.
"Five minutes."
The woman smiled with relief.
"Thank you!"
"Don't thank me. Give me a vacation."
"That's not up to me."
"Nothing useful is ever up to anyone."
The woman pretended not to hear that and led him down a side hallway.
Matt expected a normal room.
Maybe a small space with chairs, bottled water, and a wealthy fan in a team jersey.
That's why he didn't expect to be taken to a secluded area of the stadium.
He also didn't expect a guarded door.
And he definitely didn't expect to walk into a room so luxurious that having it in a sports venue felt illegal.
Dark sofas.
Warm lighting.
A low table with fruit, wine, and things that probably cost more than his rent.
Matt stopped at the entrance.
'Oh.'
A girl was sitting on the main sofa.
White hair, red eyes, pale skin, and an elegant black dress.
Too elegant.
And a presence that made the word "fan" sound like a poorly told lie.
Matt swallowed.
'Is this girl a millionaire?'
She raised her gaze and smiled.
"Matt."
Her voice was soft.
Too soft.
Matt felt his back tense.
"Good evening."
"Thank you for coming."
"Of course."
A lie.
Everything was wrong.
The woman from the organization closed the door behind him.
Matt heard the click.
His gaze moved to the door.
Then back to the girl.
She gestured to the sofa in front of her.
"Sit down."
Matt hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then he sat. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
He didn't want to be rude.
Besides, a stupid part of his brain kept saying maybe she really was just a wealthy fan.
A beautiful wealthy fan with very pretty red eyes who he could go out with and maybe borrow money from.
'Focus, idiot.'
The girl watched him calmly.
"I admire the way you play very much."
Matt activated his professional smile.
"Thank you."
"Not just for your mechanical skill."
Matt blinked.
She rested her chin on her hand.
"Your team makes a lot of mistakes."
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Matt's smile nearly broke.
"Well… we all make mistakes."
"But you started correcting them."
Matt didn't respond.
"At first you were just a talented player. Impulsive, fast, aggressive."
The girl smiled a little more.
"But little by little you started organizing the team. Covering mistakes. Making decisions. Taking over the role of team captain without making the previous one look directly humiliated."
Matt felt something go cold in his chest.
That was not a normal fan comment.
It was too specific.
Dangerously specific.
She tilted her head slightly.
"It was clever."
Matt breathed slowly.
'Careful.'
If someone recorded this and he agreed, he was finished.
The fans would tear him apart.
The team too.
And the previous captain, however incompetent, still had followers.
Many more than him.
Matt smiled carefully.
"I think you could see it that way, but it was a decision by the coaching staff. I just tried to help where I could."
The girl looked at him and her red eyes lit up with something like amusement.
"What a careful answer."
Matt said nothing.
She clapped softly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"You'd definitely be skilled in politics."
Matt felt his stomach tighten.
"Politics?"
"Yes."
"I think there's a misunderstanding."
"Is there?"
Matt kept the smile.
"I just play video games."
The girl laughed softly.
"That's what you say now."
Matt no longer smiled.
"Excuse me, but… what do you want from me?"
The question came out polite.
More polite than it felt.
The girl seemed pleased.
"You're direct. I like that too."
Matt didn't respond.
She settled back on the sofa.
"I've been following your career for three years."
Matt went still.
"Your entry into esports was rough. A lot of talent, little structure. Bad team decisions. Terrible contracts."
Matt's mouth went dry.
"Debt."
His heart lurched.
"Family pressure."
Matt stopped breathing.
"Teammates who used you as an excuse when they lost. Fans who adored you when you won, but called you arrogant when you didn't smile enough in photos."
She smiled.
"And you still didn't fall apart."
Matt couldn't respond.
Not because he had no words.
He had plenty.
All bad.
'How does she know that?'
Some of it was public.
The rest wasn't.
The debt wasn't.
The family pressure wasn't.
The internal team problems were far from it.
Matt felt the room shrinking.
'Did she hire someone to investigate me?'
The girl looked at him with warmth.
"Everything about you fascinates me."
Matt felt fear.
He had dealt with intense fans before.
People who sent him strange messages.
People who thought they knew him because they watched his matches and interviews.
But this…
This wasn't admiration.
This was bordering on stalking.
The girl laughed at his expression.
"You look very cute making that face."
Matt stood up.
"Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom…"
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"But you just got here."
"I drank a lot of water."
A lie.
A terrible lie.
But it was all he had.
Matt walked toward the door.
One step.
Two.
Three.
His hand almost touched the handle.
Then something grabbed him from behind.
Matt went still.
An arm wrapped around his chest.
A hand rested softly on his abdomen.
The girl was behind him.
He hadn't heard her move.
Her voice reached him just beside his ear.
"I wonder what expression you'll make when I turn you into my daughter."
Matt felt his entire body freeze.
"What?"
The girl rested her cheek against his back.
"I'm so excited…"
Matt tried to turn around.
He couldn't.
The grip was soft.
It didn't feel like force.
And yet he couldn't move.
"Get away from me."
"No."
Matt swallowed.
"I'm a man."
"I know."
"I don't want any kind of strange procedure."
The girl went quiet.
"Or to dress weirdly."
Silence.
"Or to participate in some rich crazy woman's fetish."
The girl started laughing.
Softly at first.
Then more fully.
"You're so funny."
"That wasn't a joke."
Matt tried to push her away again.
Nothing.
Not a centimeter.
That stung.
Not just from fear.
From pride too.
Yes, he wasn't the most athletic person in the world.
Yes, he spent too many hours sitting.
Yes, his diet was garbage.
But even so…
'How the hell can I not move a girl?'
The embarrassment hit Matt in an absurd way. He was being held in place by a wealthy, beautiful, probably unhinged stalker.
And he couldn't even make her step back.
The girl brought her mouth closer to his neck.
Matt felt her breath against his skin.
Cold.
Too cold.
"Get away from me!"
"No, I want to see what kind of daughter you'll become."
"I'm not becoming anything."
"Yes you will."
Matt gritted his teeth.
Panic rose in his throat.
He tried to push her.
Tried to stomp on her foot.
Tried to drive his elbow backward.
Nothing worked.
The girl didn't even seem to be trying.
Then Matt stopped trying to break free.
Just for a second.
His hand rose slowly.
The girl seemed to notice.
"What are you doing?"
Matt twisted his wrist.
And drove two fingers straight at her eyes.
The girl stepped back.
"Ah!"
Matt broke free all at once and slammed into the door.
His breathing came out ragged.
The girl brought a hand to her face.
Then lowered her fingers.
Just a surprised expression.
And then…
Excitement.
"I didn't expect that."
Matt tried the door, but it didn't open.
"Why won't this thing open?!"
The girl grabbed him again.
This time by the collar of his jacket, yanked him backward with a humiliating ease, and sent him to the floor.
BAM!
The impact knocked the air out of him.
Matt tried to get up.
She sat down on top of him without any rush, as if it were all a game.
"Get off me, you're insane!"
The girl smiled.
"I really can't let you go now."
Matt looked up at her with fury.
"What?"
"You're weak."
"Thanks?"
"Much weaker than me."
"I noticed that already…"
"And yet you thought to go for my eyes."
Her smile widened.
"Resourcefulness. Desperation. Pride. Resilience."
Matt tried to push her off.
Nothing.
"I like you more."
"That's disgusting."
She tilted her head.
"You're going to be a wonderful daughter."
"I told you I'm a man!"
"For now."
Matt felt his blood run cold.
"You're sick."
"Maybe."
The girl slowly lowered herself toward his neck.
Matt struggled.
This time without technique.
Without a plan.
Just fear.
"Let go of me!"
"No."
"Help!"
The room didn't respond.
Nobody opened the door.
Nobody came.
The girl's mouth grazed his neck.
Matt felt two sharp points.
"Get away from me."
She whispered:
"I love you."
Then she bit.
The pain was immediate.
Brutal.
Like being stabbed with burning ice straight into his veins.
Matt screamed and his body arched, his hands clawed at the floor, and the world began to warp.
The luxurious room went blurry.
The girl held him gently.
That was the worst part.
Not the force.
Not the pain.
The gentleness.
As if she were taking care of him.
As if what she was doing was a gift.
Matt tried to say something.
Insult her.
Curse her.
Call for help.
He couldn't.
His tongue didn't respond.
His thoughts began to fracture.
Before losing consciousness, he heard her voice one last time.
"Rest, daughter."
And everything went black.
◇◆◇
When Matt woke up, the first thing he noticed was the ceiling.
It wasn't his bedroom ceiling.
It wasn't a hospital ceiling.
It wasn't the ceiling of any place he knew.
It was high, dark, made of black stone, with red curtains around an enormous bed.
Matt blinked.
His body felt heavy.
His throat burned, and when he tried to sit up, the sheets slid across his chest.
And then he froze.
Something was wrong.
No.
Everything was wrong.
Matt slowly looked down.
His hands…
They were more slender.
His fingers looked finer.
The skin too pale.
Almost white.
"No…"
His voice came out strange.
Softer.
Higher.
Matt brought his hands to his chest.
He touched.
There was something there.
Not large.
But it was there.
Matt stopped breathing.
"No."
He lowered his hands slowly with dread.
He checked.
Once.
Then again.
His mind went completely blank.
"No."
This time the word came out broken.
Matt threw back the sheets.
He looked at his body.
White hair falling over his shoulders.
Pale skin.
Slimmer legs.
Different hips.
A small chest.
And below…
Nothing.
His friend wasn't there.
Matt went completely still.
For several seconds he couldn't think.
Then he started shaking.
"No, no, no, no…"
He got up from the bed and fell to the floor because his legs didn't respond the way he expected.
Thud!
The fall hurt.
But it didn't matter.
Matt crawled to a large mirror on the other side of the room.
He gripped the frame and stood up.
Then he saw himself.
A girl with white hair and red eyes stared back at him from the reflection.
She had his expression.
His fear.
His rage.
But it wasn't his face.
It wasn't his body.
It wasn't him.
Matt raised a hand.
The reflection did the same.
His breathing began to quicken.
"This isn't happening."
The reflection mimicked him.
"This isn't happening."
His voice wasn't his either.
Matt punched the mirror.
CRACK!
The glass cracked.
His hand bled, but the wound closed almost immediately.
Matt looked at that.
Then at his reflection again.
'What the hell is going on?'
The bedroom door opened. Matt spun and the girl walked in with a gentle smile. Several maids followed behind her.
The queen looked at him with warmth.
"You're awake."
Matt was breathing with difficulty.
"What did you do to me?"
The queen smiled.
"I gave you a place."
Matt clenched his fists.
"What did you do to me?"
The queen walked toward him.
Matt stepped back, but tripped on the rug.
"Get away from me."
"Don't be afraid."
"Get away!"
The queen stopped.
Her smile didn't change.
"You're still so loud."
Matt felt something shift inside his head.
It wasn't pain.
Not exactly.
It was pressure — as if something were waking up behind his thoughts.
Something that hadn't been there before.
Matt brought a hand to his temple.
"What…?"
The queen watched him with a sickening sweetness.
"It's woken up."
"What has?"
The answer didn't come from the queen.
It came from inside.
A feminine voice.
Soft.
Lazy.
Elegant.
And completely foreign.
"You're so loud."
Matt went cold.
His body didn't move.
His thoughts didn't either.
For a second, he just heard the echo of that voice inside his own head.
It wasn't his voice.
It wasn't the inner voice he'd always thought in since forever.
His own.
Matt's.
That one was still there.
Broken.
Frightened.
Furious.
'What the hell was that?'
But layered over it was another.
A girl's voice.
A new presence.
As if someone had opened their eyes inside his skull.
"Ah," said the voice. "So you're the human."
Matt felt his chest close up.
"No."
The queen tilted her head.
"Can you hear her already?"
Matt took another step back.
"That thing?"
"Then everything went well."
"No!"
The voice inside his head sighed.
"Mother, he's too loud."
Matt stopped breathing.
Mother.
That word hadn't come from his mouth, but he'd heard it inside his mind.
The queen laughed softly. freewēbnoveℓ.com
"Be patient, Iris. You've just been born."
Iris.
The name drove itself into Matt's mind.
Not like information.
Like a sentence.
Matt pressed both hands to his head.
"Get out."
The feminine voice went quiet for a second.
Then answered with irritation:
"Excuse me?"
"Get out of my head."
"How rude."
"Get out!"
Iris yawned inside his head as if she had every right to be there.
"I can't. This body is mine."
Matt felt the floor move.
Or maybe it was him.
His breathing started to quicken.
"This isn't happening."
"You're so dramatic."
Matt gritted his teeth.
"What are you?"
"Iris."
The voice sounded as if the answer were obvious.
"I'm Princess Iris."
Matt looked at the queen.
"What did you put inside me?"
The queen didn't answer right away. She walked to a nearby table and picked up a crystal glass, as if they were having a perfectly normal conversation.
"Your previous body wasn't suitable."
Matt felt the rage rise in his throat.
"But it was my body!"
"It was fragile."
"It was mine!"
The queen drank a little and ignored him.
"Too human. Too limited. Too easy to break."
Matt gritted his teeth.
"I'm going to kill you."
The queen smiled.
"Perhaps someday you'll try."
Iris spoke inside his head:
"Mother, why does he know so many annoying words?"
Matt went cold.
"What did you say?"
Iris didn't respond. But Matt felt something.
A presence grazing the surface of his memories.
Not like a hand.
Not like a claw.
Something worse.
Curiosity.
Images began to move.
His team.
His mother.
His sister.
His room.
His life.
Matt screamed.
"Don't touch that!"
The presence pulled back slightly.
Iris sounded offended.
"How unpleasant. Everything's so disorganized."
"Get out of my head!"
The queen let out a soft laugh.
"She's exploring."
Matt looked at her with horror.
"Exploring?"
"She needs to learn."
The queen set the glass on the table.
"Your memory, your habits, your reflexes, your tastes, your ideas… all of that will be useful to her."
Matt felt cold.
"Useful to her?"
The queen looked at him warmly.
"Of course."
Matt swallowed.
"What do you mean?"
The queen walked toward him.
Matt wanted to step back.
His back hit the cracked mirror.
"Don't look at it so tragically."
"What do you mean?"
The queen raised a hand and touched his cheek.
Matt turned his face away sharply.
She didn't seem bothered.
"For Iris, you are food."
The world went still.
Matt didn't breathe.
"What?"
The queen smiled.
"A very valuable kind."
Matt felt his body go rigid.
Iris, inside his head, made a small sound.
Curious.
Like someone who'd just been served a strange dish.
Matt clenched his fists.
"Food?"
"Yes."
The queen said that word with such naturalness that Matt felt sick.
"Not in the crude sense."
"That doesn't improve the sentence."
The queen laughed softly.
"Iris will develop better if she learns from you. If she takes what she needs. If she absorbs what is useful."
Matt felt that pressure inside his head again.
Iris moving.
Watching.
Searching.
"My memories aren't yours."
Iris answered calmly:
"They're very close."
Matt squeezed his eyes shut.
"Don't touch them!"
The queen continued, almost completely ignoring him:
"You may disappear."
Matt slowly opened his eyes.
The room seemed to tilt.
"What?"
"If Iris consumes too much, it's natural for the original human to fade away."
The queen stroked his white hair.
"Without pain, if he stops resisting."
Matt began to tremble.
Not from fear.
Not only from fear.
From rage.
"You're sick."
"But she may also come to like something about you."
The queen smiled.
"In that case, perhaps she'll keep a part."
Matt didn't understand.
He didn't want to understand.
But he asked anyway.
"A part?"
"A useful portion."
The queen's voice was soft.
Almost maternal.
"For minor tasks."
Matt felt his chest sink.
"Training."
The queen raised a finger.
"Fighting."
Another.
"Thinking when something bores her."
Another.
"Handling matters that Iris doesn't want to touch."
Matt heard Iris yawn inside his head.
"That sounds practical."
Matt felt something inside him break.
"I'm a person."
The queen smiled.
"Of course."
"Don't talk like you're not killing me!"
The queen tilted her head.
"I'm making you useful for the family."
Matt screamed.
Not a word.
Just a sound full of rage.
And in that instant, Iris pushed.
It was sudden.
Brutal.
Like someone had shoved their hands inside his head and was trying to pull him away from the wheel of his own body.
Matt's arm moved on its own.
His hand rose toward his face.
Matt felt the panic cut through him.
'No.'
Iris spoke inside him, irritated.
"Let me see."
His body took a step forward.
It wasn't Matt.
Not entirely.
The queen watched with a calm smile.
Matt gritted his teeth.
'No.'
The second step almost happened.
Matt drove his nails into his own palm.
Pain exploded.
Blood welled up.
Iris stopped.
"What are you doing?"
'My body.'
Matt bit his own tongue.
Pain filled his mouth with blood.
Iris's pressure wavered.
Matt pushed back.
He didn't know how.
He didn't understand any of it.
But he pushed.
Against that voice.
Against that presence.
Against that newly born thing that wanted to use him like a chair, a tool, or a meal.
His arm trembled.
His knee buckled.
Iris snarled inside his head.
"Stop resisting."
"Drop dead."
Matt reclaimed one finger.
Then his hand.
Then his arm.
His body shuddered.
Matt took a step back.
This time by his own choice.
Iris went silent.
For the first time, she sounded surprised.
"Oh."
Matt was breathing hard.
The queen clapped softly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Impressive."
Matt looked up.
"I'm going to kill you."
"You said that already."
"I will."
The queen smiled more warmly.
"You won this time."
Matt felt the blood in his mouth turn bitter.
"This time?"
"Iris has just been born."
The queen looked at his body with satisfaction.
"She doesn't yet understand your memories, your reflexes, or the pathways of your mind."
Matt went cold.
The queen spoke as if explaining something inevitable.
"But she will learn."
Iris said nothing.
That was worse.
The queen moved a little closer.
"And when she does, she'll win more and more often."
Matt clenched his fists.
The queen stroked his hair again.
This time Matt couldn't turn away.
His body obeyed some silent command.
"Everyone resists at first."
The queen smiled.
"Then they get tired."
Matt felt his eyes burn.
"I won't."
The queen looked at him with a soft expression.
Almost proud.
"I hope so."
Matt didn't understand.
The queen leaned in and whispered:
"The more you resist, the more valuable you'll be to her."
Iris spoke inside his head.
Quietly.
Lazily.
But now with a small, real interest.
"Then try not to break too quickly."
Matt closed his eyes.
Not to give up.
To keep from screaming again.
The queen embraced him.
Soft.
Warm.
Horrible.
"From today, you are my daughter."
Matt couldn't move.
Couldn't escape.
Couldn't wake up.
Because it wasn't a dream.
It was the beginning of his nightmare in this place.
◇◆◇
Matt opened his eyes.
The rest room was still there.
The bed.
The fountain.
The forges.
The bow-spear.
His current body.
Male.
Recovered.
His.
Matt breathed slowly.
Once.
Then again.
His fingers were clenched around the sheet.
The fabric had torn in his hands.
"Damn it."
The current voice said nothing.
Maybe she had heard.
Maybe she had seen.
Maybe she was just pretending to be respectful.
And that was why, every time the new voice inside his head said she wanted to help him, his first instinct was to picture how he'd get rid of her.
The current voice finally spoke, very quietly.
"I'm not her."
Matt closed his eyes.
"That's what you say."
