Lord of Perverted Ladies

The doors remained open.

Millions of them.

Each one showed a different world.

A different Alisster.

A different version of my life.

A different ending.

And every person standing beyond those doors was looking at me.

Nobody spoke.

Even the city around us had fallen silent.

I looked at the nearest door.

Inside was an Alisster I’d never seen before.

The streets were crowded.

Children were playing.

People were laughing.

The sky was clear.

It looked peaceful.

Then I saw myself.

I was standing in the middle of the street.

Older.

Happier.

Normal.

There was no System.

No Story.

No commands.

No cosmic entities.

I watched that version of me laugh with a group of friends.

For a moment, I felt jealous.

That world had everything I had wanted.

A normal life.

Then the scene changed.

The sky turned red.

The people disappeared.

The buildings collapsed.

My other self stood alone.

A voice came from somewhere above.

"Would you still choose your Creator?"

The people returned.

But they were different.

Their eyes were filled with anger.

They pointed toward my other self.

"He abandoned us."

"He created us and left."

"He gave us suffering."

"He could have saved us."

"He chose not to."

I stepped backward.

The door closed.

Another opened.

This one showed my mother.

She was younger.

She was smiling.

I watched her holding a baby.

Me.

She whispered,

"I’ll protect you."

Then the scene changed.

She was standing beside my father’s grave.

She was crying.

The baby was gone.

Another version of me had died.

My mother screamed at the sky.

"Why did you make him?"

I felt something tighten inside my chest.

The door closed.

Another opened.

Noah was inside.

He was older.

Much older.

He was sitting alone at a table.

There were photographs around him.

Me.

His friends.

Everyone who had disappeared from his life.

He picked up one photograph.

It was me.

"I still remember you."

The door closed.

Another opened.

Ryan.

Another.

Marcus.

Another.

Ethan.

Daniel.

Every version of everyone I had ever known.

Some loved me.

Some hated me.

Some worshipped me.

Some blamed me.

Some didn’t even know I existed.

My father stepped beside me.

"Don’t watch anymore."

I shook my head.

"I have to."

"You don’t."

"If they’re judging me..."

I looked at the endless doors.

"...I need to hear them."

The First Reader approached.

"This isn’t a trial."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"It’s an experiment."

"What’s the difference?"

"A trial determines guilt."

He pointed toward the doors.

"An experiment determines what happens."

I frowned.

"And what happens?"

He looked at me.

"That depends on what you choose."

"I thought they were judging me."

"They are."

"Then what choice do I have?"

He pointed toward the center of the city.

A black platform had appeared.

On it stood the incomplete figure.

My creation.

My failsafe.

It looked at me.

"Come."

I walked forward.

My friends followed.

The figure waited until I reached the platform.

Then it raised its hand.

The doors began rotating around us.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

Until they became a giant circle of light.

"You created every world."

I nodded.

"You created every possibility."

"Yes."

"You created suffering."

I looked down.

"Yes."

"You created happiness."

"Yes."

"You created death."

"Yes."

"You created freedom."

"Yes."

The figure looked at me.

"Then answer one question."

I waited.

"Would you create them again?"

I looked at the doors.

At the worlds.

At the suffering.

At the joy.

At the people.

At the mistakes.

At the lives that had ended.

At the lives that continued.

My answer came quickly.

"Yes."

Everyone stared at me.

The figure tilted its head.

"Why?"

"Because they’re alive."

"They suffer."

"Yes."

"They die."

"Yes."

"They hate you."

"Sometimes."

"They worship you."

"Sometimes."

"They blame you."

"Sometimes."

"They don’t understand you."

"Most of them don’t."

"Then why create them again?"

I looked at the nearest door.

Inside, two children were laughing.

One fell.

The other helped them up.

It was such a tiny moment.

Meaningless to the universe.

But important to them.

"Because existence doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth having."

The figure became silent.

I continued.

"I thought being the Creator meant I had to make everything perfect."

"I thought I had to prevent every death."

"Every tragedy."

"Every mistake."

"But that’s not life."

I looked at my father.

Then Noah.

Then the others.

"Life is choosing what to do despite knowing you might lose."

The Guardian stepped forward.

"Continue."

I looked at her.

"You understand."

She smiled.

"Now I do."

I faced the figure again.

"If I created them again..."

I paused.

"...I’d make the same mistakes."

The figure frowned.

"Why?"

"Because if I removed every mistake, their choices wouldn’t mean anything."

Silence.

Then one of the doors opened.

A woman stepped through.

She looked familiar.

Very familiar.

My mother.

But not the one standing beside me.

This version was older.

She walked toward me.

"You killed my son."

I froze.

"Which one?"

"Mine."

She pointed toward one of the doors.

Inside was a young version of me.

He was lying dead on a hospital bed.

"I begged you to save him."

"I couldn’t."

"You could."

She slapped me.

The sound echoed through the city.

I didn’t move.

"You chose not to."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because he asked me not to."

She froze.

"What?"

"He wanted to die."

The woman stared.

"Why?"

"Because he was suffering."

She started crying.

"I didn’t know."

"I know."

"You should have saved him anyway."

"I could have."

"Then why didn’t you?"

I looked at her.

"Because it wasn’t my life to choose."

She slowly lowered her hand.

The door behind her closed.

Another person stepped forward.

A man.

He looked at me with hatred.

"You created a world where I was born a slave."

I nodded.

"Yes."

"You knew."

"Yes."

"You could have changed it."

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you?"

I thought about it.

"Because I didn’t know how your story would unfold."

"You could have known."

"Maybe."

"You could have made me free."

"Yes."

"Then you failed me."

I nodded.

"Yes."

The man stared.

I didn’t defend myself.

I didn’t make excuses.

I couldn’t.

The figure watched me carefully.

More people appeared.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

They accused me.

They thanked me.

They cursed me.

They praised me.

Some asked why I’d created them.

Others asked why I’d abandoned them.

Some simply wanted me to remember their names.

So I listened.

Every accusation.

Every scream.

Every thank-you.

Every story.

I listened.

Hours passed.

Or perhaps years.

Time didn’t behave normally inside the trial.

Eventually, the crowd became silent.

The figure looked at me.

"You have heard them."

"Yes."

"Do you regret creating them?"

I looked around.

"No."

"Do you regret the suffering?"

"Yes."

"Then why accept both?"

"Because I can’t separate them."

The figure smiled.

"You finally understand."

The doors began closing.

One by one.

Millions became thousands.

Thousands became hundreds.

Hundreds became dozens.

Then one.

The final door showed Alisster.

My Alisster.

The real one.

My friends.

My family.

My life.

Everything I’d fought for.

Everything I’d almost lost.

The figure stood beside me.

"This is your final judgment."

I looked at the door.

"What happens?"

"You decide whether to remain the Creator."

"And if I say no?"

"You return to being Adrian."

"Without the power?"

"Yes."

"And if I say yes?"

"You become the Creator completely."

"Meaning?"

"You will no longer be bound by human limitations."

I stared.

"No fear."

"No death."

"No uncertainty."

"No pain."

"No need for anyone."

I looked at the figure.

"That sounds terrible."

"It is."

"Then why offer it?"

"Because that is what you originally wanted."

I frowned.

"I did?"

"You wanted to stop suffering."

I remembered.

The earliest version of me.

Alone in the silence.

Creating reality because I wanted an answer.

Creating worlds because I wanted meaning.

But somewhere along the way...

I had forgotten why.

I had become human.

And being human had taught me something the Creator never understood.

Suffering wasn’t the opposite of meaning.

Sometimes it was the thing that made meaning possible.

I looked at my mother.

She smiled.

My father nodded.

Noah gave me a thumbs-up.

Ryan whispered,

"Please don’t become some omnipotent cosmic maniac."

I laughed.

"Not planning to."

The figure waited.

"So?"

I looked at the final door.

"I don’t want to be the Creator."

The figure’s eyes widened.

"But I don’t want to stop creating either."

"What do you choose?"

I smiled.

"I choose to be Adrian."

The world went silent.

Then the figure smiled.

"Correct."

The platform disappeared.

The doors shattered.

Every world vanished.

The sky returned.

The city returned.

The people returned.

And the power inside me...

disappeared.

I felt it leave.

The endless awareness.

The ability to feel every reality.

The knowledge of every possible future.

Gone.

I nearly fell.

Noah caught me.

"Adrian!"

"I’m okay."

I looked at my hands.

They were normal.

Completely normal.

I laughed.

"Finally."

Ryan stared at me.

"You’re powerless?"

"Apparently."

He smiled.

"Congratulations."

I looked at the sky.

For the first time, it looked ordinary.

Blue.

Clouds.

Sunlight.

Beautiful.

Then the incomplete figure approached.

It was fading.

"What happens to you?"

I asked.

"I no longer have a purpose."

"You can stay."

"I can’t."

"Why?"

"Because I was created to stop you from becoming something you’re not."

It smiled.

"And now you’ve chosen who you are."

Its body became transparent.

"Wait."

It looked at me.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me."

It smiled.

"No."

"For giving me the chance to choose."

Then it disappeared.

The Guardian stood beside me.

She looked different too.

Human.

Completely human.

"Are you staying?"

She nodded.

"I think I’d like to try."

"Try what?"

"Living."

I smiled.

"Good luck."

She laughed.

"I’ll probably need it."

My mother hugged me.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder.

The city slowly returned to normal.

People went back to their lives.

The doors were gone.

The Story was gone.

The System was gone.

The Creator was gone.

All that remained...

was me.

Adrian Cross.

A normal person.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Until my phone vibrated.

I looked down.

The screen was completely black.

Then one final message appeared.

CREATOR STATUS: REJECTED.

I smiled.

"Good."

Another line appeared.

LISTENER STATUS: RETIRED.

"Even better."

Then the final line appeared.

I stopped smiling.

HUMAN STATUS: ACCEPTED.

I stared at it.

Then another message appeared.

WELCOME TO YOUR REAL LIFE.

I slowly looked up.

My mother was staring at me.

"Adrian..."

"What?"

She pointed behind me.

I turned.

A little girl was standing in the middle of the street.

She looked about six years old.

She was holding a wooden toy car.

The same one.

She smiled.

Then she said something that made my blood run cold.

"You’re late."

I stared at her.

"Who are you?"

She tilted her head.

"The next question."

The world went silent.

And somewhere far beyond the stars...

something laughed. :::