"In this world, some possess hidden, subtle powers—not the kind you'd see in movies, but abilities that make them extraordinary nonetheless. Mine? It's simple: I always look good. You could say I'm a walking cheat code, a magnet for women's desire."
"Every woman who lays eyes on me desires me, as if under some kind of spell. And if she doesn't, all I need to do is tempt her or enhance my appeal even further. I'm the embodiment of perfection when it comes to women's desires, which means I always get to choose who I want."
"You might wonder how I discovered this or even realized it. Well, my dad told me when I reached a certain age. I never knew my mother—apparently, it's part of our curse. We're doomed never to fall deeply in love, and with all these advantages, we eventually grow bored of them. According to my dad, this has been our legacy since ancient times. Our clan has always been known for its extraordinary looks, but for the men, it goes deeper. Our allure intensifies whenever we're about to be with a woman—almost like a natural enhancement. Women of our lineage, however, don't share this trait."
"Thank God there aren't many of us in the clan—I've never actually met anyone else, to be hones. According to my dad, mkst of us are male, and we rarely feel the desire to have children. Our power actually grows with each conquest; the higher the body count, the stronger we become. Just take a look at my dad. By his own account, he's over a hundred years old with at least 700,000 conquest under his belt. That's why he's wealthy, powerful and looks good as he does. The only thing he cares about is me (his sperm), and he despises everything and everyone else.
But even our powers have vulnerabilities. They can be broken—firstly, if you lay with a man, or worse, rapes us.
Secondly, though it doesn't completely break the power, going too long without being with a woman weakens us. The longer we go, the more intense our lust grows, gnawing us weaker and making us obsessed sex monsters by the day."
"Enough with the explanations. Let me tell you an amazing story about myself. My name is Henry Landry, and I was—or perhaps still am—a deeply lustful person."
…
"As I said, I don't know my mother. I was raised in a grand mansion surrounded by beautiful maids and every luxury a child could imagine. My world was filled with stunning faces—I never even saw an ugly person as a child. I wasn't allowed outside, though, so my days were spent trapped within the walls of that estate. The maids often gossiped about how pretty I was, but I never cared or even fully understood what they meant.
Being confined, my only goal became escaping the house. And one day, at just six years old, I finally accomplished that dream."
"It was near sunset—or maybe it already was—but, just like in the movies, I made my escape. I tied together some of my luxury clothes and used them as a makeshift rope to climb out of my window. Even now, I'm surprised by how strong I was and how fearless my grip felt. No hesitation, no fear—it was as if I was made for that moment.
I guess I was an anomaly, even in my clan. Sure, our strength is above that of the average human, but still, I was only six years old. Looking back now, I have to admit—I was ridiculously badass."
The neighborhood I lived in was, of course, a rich one. But my dad was the richest, and our house was set apart from where most people lived. When I landed on the ground, the first thing I saw was my only friend—a German Shepherd named Simba.
"Come on, boy," I called out. Simba trotted over to me immediately, his sharp eyes full of intelligence. He wasn't just loyal; he was incredibly smart, almost like he understood everything I said.
The estate was crawling with surveillance cameras and security guards, but I had spent countless hours of my isolated childhood—being homeschooled and left to my own devices—studying everything. I memorized the placement of the cameras, the guards' patrol patterns, and every potential blind spot. Simba, my clever partner in crime, helped me navigate the escape flawlessly.
Or so I thought.
Turns out, my personal security bodyguard—a sharp and perceptive woman—had been one step ahead of me the entire time. She knew. That woman knew me inside and out, as if she could predict my every move before I even made it.
She let me go, though. She didn't raise an alarm, just quietly followed me from the shadows.
Instead of heading toward the rich side of the neighborhood, I went straight for the poor side. That was the first time I ever saw what I thought was an "ugly" human being—not someone old, but someone whose appearance didn't match the polished beauty I'd grown up with. You can't blame me—I was a kid who'd only ever been surrounded by model-perfect faces. Looking back now, they weren't ugly, just poor, but at the time, it felt... different.
As I wandered through the streets, three adults, somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties, spotted me. Their eyes widened in awe, completely mesmerized by the sight of me—a child radiating an almost otherworldly beauty, accompanied by a magnificent German Shepherd that looked every bit like a guardian spirit.
"Not to be homo, but that child looks like a god," one of them said, loud enough for me to hear.
It surprised me how easily I could pick that up from the distance I was. At the time, I didn't realize it was part of my powers. I just thought I had sharp ears or something. Ignoring them, I kept moving forward, aimlessly wandering without a plan.
Looking back, I was so stupid—no directions, no destination, just a six-year-old roaming the world like it would all fall into place.
I eventually found myself at a small playground. It was deserted, probably because it was getting late, but as I wandered in, I met a girl named Anna. As kids, it was ridiculously easy to make friends, so before long, we were running around and playing like we'd known each other forever. It must have been around five o'clock when I saw them—thugs. Yeah, those kinds of people always seemed to exist, no matter where you were.
Turns out, one of them was the guy I'd seen earlier, now with a group of different men.
"That's the boy," he said, pointing at me. "See? I told you he's exceptional. He'd fetch us a hefty amount."
"You're right! Look at him—glorious, magnificent—oh my God!" another exclaimed, practically drooling.
Anna couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could. Her instincts kicked in fast, though. "Let's run!" she said, grabbing my hand. She had better survival instincts than me; maybe it was because she was ebony-skinned, and, as I've learned, people like her always seemed more attuned to danger.
We ended up trapped in an alleyway. I mean, did you (the reader) really think two six-year-olds could outrun grown men?
"Don't run, kids! We just wanna help. I got candy," one of then said, holding up some cheap, crumbled candy like it was supposed to win us over.
"Get the fuck outta here with that," I shot back.
I didn't even realize I'd cursed until I saw the look on their faces.
"This brat's got a mouth on him," one muttered.
As they closed in, one of them reached out to grab us—but then, out of nowhere, Simba sprang forward and bit down one of the thugs' balls. I won't lie, I enjoyed that moment intensely.
But eventually, they overpowered Simba. One of them stabbed him, and his yelp of pain made my heart shatter. I screamed, "Ahhhhhh!" and without thinking, I charged at the nearest thug. My small fist connected with his face, and to everyone's shock—including mine—he actually fell. Blood gushed from his nose as he hit the ground.
"What the fuck! Did you just get knocked out by a kid?" another thug yelled at him, furious.
Before I could savor that small victory, I felt a sharp blow. Another thug had struck me, sending me stumbling. Dizzy and disoriented, I could barely react as they closed in on us.
But then, out of nowhere, I saw her—Felicia, my ebony-skinned bodyguard. She appeared like a shadow with a gun in hand.
"Pa!"
The sound of the shot echoed in the alley, and that was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.