Lord of Perverted Ladies

"Don’t let him tell you."

My mother’s voice was barely a whisper.

But I heard it.

Everyone heard it.

The figure standing at the horizon smiled.

"You still haven’t told him?"

My mother stepped forward.

"Stay away from him."

The figure laughed.

"After all this time, you’re still pretending."

My father moved beside her.

"Enough."

The figure’s attention shifted toward him.

"You don’t belong in this conversation."

"I disagree."

"You weren’t there."

My father’s expression hardened.

"I was there when she chose him."

The figure’s smile disappeared.

For the first time, it looked genuinely irritated.

I looked between them.

"Someone please explain."

Nobody answered.

I felt the familiar pressure building inside my chest.

Not power.

Not the Creator.

Something else.

A memory.

The final memory.

The one that had supposedly existed before my first question.

I looked at my mother.

"Who was she?"

She closed her eyes.

"Adrian..."

"Who were you?"

She didn’t answer.

I stepped closer.

"Before you became my mother."

She looked at me.

There were tears in her eyes.

"I was nothing."

The figure laughed.

"That’s a lie."

My mother flinched.

I turned toward it.

"Then tell me."

"Adrian!"

My mother grabbed my arm.

"Don’t listen to him."

"Why?"

"Because he wants you to remember."

"What’s wrong with remembering?"

"You don’t understand what remembering that particular thing will do."

The figure smiled.

"She’s afraid you’ll remember why you loved her."

I frowned.

"Why I loved her?"

My mother released my arm.

The figure took one step forward.

"Not as your mother."

"Before that."

The world around us became strangely quiet.

Even the traffic seemed to fade.

The figure raised its hand.

The sky darkened.

A memory began forming.

I saw darkness.

Not the darkness before reality.

This was different.

There was something inside it.

A woman.

She was standing alone.

Young.

Beautiful.

Terrified.

I recognized her.

My mother.

But she looked nothing like the woman beside me.

Her hair was longer.

Her clothes were torn.

Her eyes were glowing white.

And she was holding something.

A tiny wooden car.

I looked at my mother.

"That’s you."

She nodded.

"I remember."

The memory continued.

My mother was kneeling before something enormous.

A shape without a face.

The Origin.

Except it was different.

Smaller.

Incomplete.

It was still being formed.

My mother looked toward it.

"Please."

The Origin didn’t respond.

"I don’t want to do it."

Still nothing.

She looked down at the wooden car.

"I can’t."

Then another voice spoke.

The same voice I’d heard from the figure.

"You promised."

My mother looked up.

"What happens if I refuse?"

"You know."

"I’ll die."

"Yes."

"And he’ll disappear."

"Yes."

My blood ran cold.

"Who?"

The memory shifted.

My mother was holding a baby.

Me.

But I wasn’t human.

My body was transparent.

Almost like light.

My mother was crying.

"He’s dying."

The figure stood behind her.

"Because he was never meant to exist."

"But I created him."

"No."

The figure shook its head.

"You discovered him."

"What is he?"

The figure looked at me.

"The first question."

I froze.

The first question wasn’t something I had asked.

It was something I had been.

The memory shifted again.

My mother held me tighter.

"Then I’ll give him a reason to exist."

"You can’t."

"Watch me."

She touched my forehead.

A small light entered my body.

The first memory.

The first identity.

The first name.

"Adrian."

The moment she said my name...

reality began forming.

Stars appeared.

Worlds.

Time.

Space.

Everything.

My mother had not created reality.

She had given the first question an identity.

She had turned a question into a person.

Me.

I looked at my mother.

"Why?"

She wiped away a tear.

"Because you were alone."

The figure interrupted.

"And because she was lonely."

My mother glared at it.

"Don’t."

The figure continued.

"She didn’t create you because she was noble."

"She created you because she wanted someone to stay."

I looked at my mother.

"Is that true?"

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Yes."

I didn’t know what to say.

The figure smiled.

"She made you promise."

"What promise?"

My mother looked away.

I already knew the answer.

"That I wouldn’t leave."

She nodded.

"You promised."

"But I did."

"Yes."

"You abandoned me."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"You don’t remember why."

The memory changed again.

I saw myself.

Older.

Standing before the Origin.

My mother was behind me.

I was holding the wooden car.

I heard my own voice.

"If I stay, reality dies."

My mother shook her head.

"Then don’t stay."

"I can’t leave you."

"You have to."

"Why?"

"Because you’re not supposed to belong to me."

The younger me looked at her.

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Become human."

The words echoed.

"Humans forget."

"Humans change."

"Humans leave."

"Humans return."

"You have to experience all of it."

I watched myself cry.

"I don’t want to."

My mother hugged me.

"I know."

Then she whispered something.

"That’s why I’ll forget too."

I froze.

The memory shattered.

I stumbled backward.

My mother caught me.

"What did you do?"

She was crying.

"I asked the Origin to erase our memories."

"Both of us?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if I remembered what you were..."

She touched my face.

"...I would never let you become human."

I stared at her.

"And you?"

"I needed to forget that you were my creation."

"Why?"

"Because otherwise, I’d always see you as something I had to protect."

She smiled sadly.

"And you needed someone who could treat you like a son."

I couldn’t speak.

The figure behind us laughed softly.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?"

I turned toward it.

"You manipulated her."

"Yes."

"You threatened her."

"Yes."

"You made her choose."

"Yes."

My anger rose.

"Why?"

The figure’s smile faded.

"Because someone had to."

It looked at me.

"You were becoming too powerful."

"The Origin couldn’t stop you."

"The Creator couldn’t stop himself."

"So I gave you a weakness."

"What weakness?"

The figure pointed toward my mother.

"Love."

I stared at him.

"You’re saying she was my weakness?"

"No."

He smiled.

"She was your anchor."

The distinction mattered.

"You needed someone who could make you choose humanity even when you could become something greater."

My mother looked down.

"That’s why I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"That once you remembered everything..."

She looked at me.

"...you’d stop needing me."

I shook my head.

"Never."

She began crying.

I hugged her.

She held me tightly.

For a moment, there were no cosmic beings.

No Creator.

No Origin.

No trials.

Just a mother and her son.

Then the figure spoke.

"Now you remember."

I released her.

"Yes."

"Then the final memory is complete."

I frowned.

"Final memory?"

The figure nodded.

"You remembered your mother."

"What happens now?"

The figure smiled.

"You decide whether she gets to remember too."

My mother froze.

I turned toward her.

"What?"

The figure raised its hand.

A symbol appeared above my mother.

A wooden car.

Underneath it were two words.

MEMORY LOCKED.

The figure continued.

"She chose to forget you so that you could become human."

"If you unlock her memories..."

"She will remember everything."

"Every version of you."

"Every death."

"Every world."

"Every time you disappeared."

"Every time you came back."

"Every promise."

"Every failure."

I looked at my mother.

"Do you want to remember?"

She didn’t answer.

I waited.

Finally, she said,

"No."

I was surprised.

"Why?"

"Because I already know who you are."

She smiled.

"I don’t need to remember every version."

The figure frowned.

"You would willingly remain ignorant?"

She shook her head.

"No."

She took my hand.

"I choose my son."

The figure stared at her.

Then it laughed.

"That’s exactly what I wanted to hear."

The sky suddenly cracked.

I looked upward.

The figure began disappearing.

"Wait."

It stopped.

"Who are you?"

The figure smiled.

"Now you finally get to ask."

I waited.

"Are you the thing that existed before reality?"

"No."

"The Unasked?"

"No."

"The Origin?"

"No."

"Then what?"

The figure looked at my mother.

Then at me.

"I am the first choice."

I froze.

"The first choice?"

"Before you asked why you existed..."

It smiled.

"...something had to choose for the question to exist."

The figure began dissolving.

"You were not the beginning, Adrian."

"Neither was your mother."

"Neither was the Origin."

"Choice came first."

Then it disappeared.

The sky returned to normal.

The city came back.

The sunlight returned.

Everyone stood silently.

I looked at my mother.

"Choice came before existence."

She nodded.

"Apparently."

"Then what does that mean?"

"I don’t know."

For once, she smiled.

"Maybe that’s something you should discover yourself."

I laughed.

"Fair."

Noah approached us.

"So..."

He looked at my mother.

"Everything okay?"

She smiled.

"For now."

Ryan sighed in relief.

"Good. Because I was starting to think we were going to fight another universe."

The Guardian laughed.

"That might still happen."

Ryan’s face fell.

"Please don’t say things like that."

I looked at the sky.

Nothing happened.

No messages.

No cracks.

No doors.

No voices.

Peace.

For the first time in what felt like forever...

peace.

I looked down at the wooden car in my hand.

The word beneath it had changed.

REMEMBER.

Then another word appeared.

CHOOSE.

I smiled.

Maybe that was all I needed.

Not answers.

Not power.

Not destiny.

Just the ability to choose what came next.

I turned toward my friends.

"Let’s go home."

Noah smiled.

"Finally."

We began walking.

But after only a few steps, I stopped.

Something felt wrong.

The Guardian noticed.

"What?"

I looked behind us.

At the horizon.

At the place where the mysterious figure had disappeared.

There was nothing there.

Yet I could hear something.

A whisper.

Very faint.

Almost impossible to hear.

"You still haven’t asked the most important question."

I looked around.

"What question?"

No answer.

Then my phone vibrated.

I pulled it out.

The screen was black.

One sentence appeared.

IF CHOICE CAME BEFORE EXISTENCE...

I stared.

Another line appeared.

WHO CHOSE CHOICE?

My smile disappeared.

The Guardian looked at the screen.

She whispered,

"Oh."

I looked at her.

"What?"

She stared toward the sky.

"Because if choice existed before the first question..."

She swallowed.

"...then something had to choose to let choice exist."

The phone vibrated one final time.

NEXT ARC: THE FIRST CHOICE.

And beneath it appeared a countdown.

07:00:00

Seven hours.

Until whatever came next...

found us.