System Rebirth: Return of the Forgotten

Chapter Two: The Scarlet Room

Evan followed her to the apartment building, his footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness. She walked a step ahead, her heels clicking softly on the pavement. Her dress clung to her figure, accentuating every curve, and he found himself staring despite his best efforts.

She glanced back at him, her smile playful, teasing and returned her gaze forward.

His mind raced as they approached the building's entrance. Her earlier words still echoed in his head.

'Cup of coffee. That's what women say when they wanna sleep with someone, right? Or am I just overreacting?'

He shook his head slightly, trying to dismiss the thought.

' Don't get ahead of yourself, man. Maybe she really does just want coffee.'

But then he glanced at her again—the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the confidence in her stride, the way her lips curved as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. He felt a spark of hope mixed with disbelief.

'Could this really be happening?Could she be the one?'

The thought struck him, ridiculous and naive, but it lingered. She was so beautiful, so effortlessly captivating. The kind of woman he'd always assumed was out of his league.

He chuckled nervously under his breath.

'Get a grip.You're probably overreacting. Either way, just keep your head on straight and don't blow this.'

They reached the building's entrance, a tall structure with a sleek, modern design. A steel awning jutted out above the doorway, casting a faint shadow over the entrance. She reached into her bag, pulling out a small key fob, and buzzed them in.

As she stepped forward to open the door, he noticed the lights above flicker. It was faint at first, a subtle blink, but then it happened again, more pronounced.

He hesitated, glancing up at the overhead light. It pulsed erratically for a few seconds before stabilizing.

She turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. "Coming?"

He nodded quickly, brushing off the strange moment.

'Weird, but who cares?'

He was about to walk into her apartment. That thought alone made the flickering light seem inconsequential.

She held the door open for him, and he stepped inside, the faint scent of her perfume brushing against him as he passed. It was intoxicating—floral and sweet, with a hint of something sharper underneath.

The building's interior was just as pristine as the outside. Polished floors gleamed under soft, recessed lighting, and abstract art hung in gilded frames along the walls. The air was cool, almost unnaturally so, carrying a faint metallic tang that made him pause.

She led the way to the elevator, her heels clicking softly against the tile. He followed in silence, his mind a chaotic mess of anticipation and nerves. He couldn't stop replaying their conversation, dissecting her every word, her every glance.

'Keep it cool, Evan.' he told himself.

'You're here. Just don't mess it up.'

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, she stepped inside, turning to face him with a small smile. Her eyes glittered under the artificial light, unreadable but alluring and Evan followed.

She pressed the button for her floor, and the doors closed, sealing them in. The ride was silent, save for the faint hum of the elevator. He could feel her presence beside him, close enough that their arms almost touched.

When the doors opened again, she stepped out, her movements fluid and confident. He followed her down the hallway. At the end of the hall, she stopped in front of a door, pulling out her keys.

She glanced back at him as she unlocked the door, her smile lingering. "You're quiet. Nervous?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing softly. "Maybe a little."

The door swung open, and she gestured for him to step inside.

"Don't be. I don't bite."

***

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing out the city's noise and leaving him in a world that felt far removed from his own. The apartment was breathtaking, almost unreal in its opulence. A shimmering chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystal facets scattering soft golden light across the room.

Polished marble floors stretched out beneath his feet, cool to the touch, and a plush, cream-colored rug spread out beneath an L-shaped velvet couch that looked as though it had never been sat on.

As he stepped in, he turned his head slowly, taking in the art pieces mounted on the walls. A sleek kitchen stood to the right, its black granite countertops spotless, the stainless-steel appliances gleaming in perfect alignment.

He let out a low whistle, his fingers trailing along the edge of the counter as he turned to her. She stood near the couch, her arms crossed, watching him with an amused smirk. The light from the chandelier caught the angles of her face—sharp cheekbones, full lips painted a deep wine-red, and eyes like polished obsidian that glinted with something unspoken.

"You really made it, huh?" he said, his voice tinged with nervous laughter. His hands slid into his pockets, masking the awkward energy he felt in the face of her calm demeanor.

"What do you do again? I don't think I recall you telling me what you do for a living."

Her smirk deepened, and she leaned lazily against the back of the couch, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

"I didn't." Her tone was teasing, but there was an edge beneath it, a quiet challenge that made the fine hairs on his neck prickle.

He shrugged, gesturing toward the kitchen.

"No coffee maker? How do you even function?"

She laughed—a low, velvety sound that seemed to echo in the quiet space. She moved then, her bare feet silent on the marble as she crossed the room toward him. Her hands, delicate but confident, reached for the thin straps of her dress.

He stiffened, his heart pounding in his chest as she slid the straps off her shoulders. The dress shifted, pooling around her like liquid silk and leaving her in nothing but her pale, flawless skin. The golden light from the chandelier cast soft shadows on her figure, highlighting every curve, every angle, as though she were sculpted by the hands of a master.

His breath hitched, and he turned his head slightly, unsure where to look, unsure what to do. His throat tightened as he forced out a nervous laugh.

"Uh, is this... is this really happening? I'm not even sure I know what to do here."

She didn't answer. Her dark eyes bore into his, unreadable and intense, as she stepped closer. He caught a faint whiff of her perfume—something sweet and floral with an undercurrent of spice.

Then, without warning, her lips were on his.

The kiss was demanding, overwhelming, as if she were consuming him. Her hands slid up his back, nails grazing his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, he let himself get lost in the warmth of her lips, the intoxicating pull of her touch. But then he felt it—sharp, searing pain.

Her nails dug deeper, raking down his back, tearing through his shirt and the flesh beneath. He gasped, his hands flying to her shoulders to push her away, but before he could, her teeth sank into his lower lip.

The pain was blinding. Blood spilled into his mouth, hot and metallic, as his muffled screams filled the space between them.

"Stop!" he tried to shout, but the word came out as a garbled moan of agony.

She shoved him with a strength that didn't belong to her slender frame. He was airborne for a moment, the world spinning, before his back slammed into the wall. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through his spine and left him crumpled on the floor.

The room blurred around him as he tried to gather his senses. Blood trickled down his chin and from the wounds on his back. His head throbbed where it had struck the wall, and he felt a warm wetness pooling beneath him—blood, too much blood.

His breaths came in ragged gasps as his mind raced.

'What's happening? We were just making out a second ago. How did we end up here?'

He tried to push himself up, his palms slipping against the marble slick with blood. His vision swam, the golden light above dimming as the edges of his consciousness frayed.

Through it all, he could feel her eyes on him.

She stood there, motionless, her lips curled into a wicked smile, blood smeared across her chin and staining her teeth. Her face no longer looked human—her skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, her eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger.

"I—" he croaked, but the words wouldn't come. His vision flickered, his body trembling as the realization sank in.

'She wasn't human. She never was. She was a netherfiend.'