I woke up groggily, only to be hit by a splitting headache. I couldn't help but let out a groan. But beneath me, the surface was soft and comfortable. I reached out with my left hand and felt around—it was soft too.
A mattress. I was lying on a bed.
"Where am I? Am I at home?"
I opened my eyes, but the blinding light forced me to shut them again. After a moment, I slowly adjusted to the brightness.
Looking around, I saw that the bedroom was sparsely decorated. There was just a bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe. On the wall opposite the bed hung a landscape painting. The nightstand held a water glass, an alarm clock, and some other random items, including a vase with fake flowers. The clock showed it was around 10 p.m. Outside the window, the night sky was silent and empty, with no other scenery in sight.
But this wasn't my home.
I quickly checked myself. I was still wearing my T-shirt and slacks, but my shoes and socks were gone—someone must have taken them off for me. I patted myself down again. My phone and wallet were missing. I cursed under my breath, but there wasn't much I could do. Sitting up on the bed, I tried to focus despite the lingering headache.
Who was I? Why was I here?
My name is Charles. I work as a programmer at an IT company and live alone… Memories of my life quickly came flooding back. It seemed I hadn't lost my memory. My most recent recollection was crossing the street on my way home… A car with its headlights blazing came speeding toward me… I froze in fear… Then there was a blinding white light and searing pain…
I must've been hit by the car, right? I quickly checked my limbs. Aside from the headache, there were no other injuries. That didn't make sense. How could I have been hit by a car and come out unscathed? Or was I just incredibly lucky?
But luck had never been my strong suit. If it were, my girlfriend wouldn't have left me. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I decided to get out of bed, stretch my legs, and check if my phone or wallet might be in the wardrobe or nightstand.
Suddenly, the door to the room opened.
Who could it be? A doctor? A cop? My parents? A friend? A coworker? Maybe even my boss? But when the door swung fully open, I was stunned. The person stepping in was a woman in her twenties, and… she was completely naked!
Well, not entirely naked—she was wearing a pair of black panties. But aside from that, she had nothing on. Her delicate features, tall figure, full breasts, long legs, and flat stomach were all on full display. Her long hair cascaded down her back, and she stood there without a hint of shame.
My expression must have been ridiculous—my eyes were glued to her, my mind a chaotic mess, and, naturally, my body reacted in a way I couldn't control.
What was even stranger was her reaction. She didn't scream or cover herself in embarrassment. Instead, she looked delighted. Turning around, she called out something that nearly made me lose my mind:
"Honey, come quick! He's awake!"
Holy fuck. Honey?!
This had to be a setup. A scam. This woman and her accomplice were trying to frame me for something. That had to be it! The nudity was just a ploy to make it easier to accuse me.
Sure, I'm a man with desires, but I'm not stupid. Without thinking, I leapt off the bed and bolted toward the window, hoping I could escape.
"Hey! What are you doing? This is the tenth floor!" The woman rushed over and grabbed my arm.
"Damn it, she's using this as an excuse to get close to me. Definitely part of the setup!" I thought. But as her hand gripped my arm, her chest pressed against me. Her breasts were not only large and soft but also incredibly firm. My body, which had started to calm down, betrayed me again.
Before I could react further, another figure burst into the room. A man grabbed me from behind, his strength overwhelming. I struggled, but he was too strong. With a powerful shove, he threw me back onto the bed.
I lay there, stunned, staring up at him. He was a fairly handsome man, fully dressed, and he looked at me with a mix of surprise and confusion. The woman stood behind him, equally bewildered.
Damn it. If they were going to force me into bed with her and then frame me, I might've accepted my fate. But this? This was just unprofessional.
"Fine, whatever. I'm screwed. But I'm broke, okay? I don't have any money. And I didn't even touch your wife! She came in here naked, and now you're trying to pin this on me? How much do you want?!"
There was a moment of silence. The couple exchanged confused glances, as if they had no idea what I was talking about. Finally, the man spoke.
"Bro, what are you even saying? What setup?"
"You're trying to catch me in the act, aren't you? Frame me for something and extort me for money?"
"What the hell are you talking about? My wife, Jessica, and I found you unconscious on the road. We brought you back here."
"Unconscious? Where?"
"On the mountain road near here. There was no one else around, just you lying there. So we put you in the car and brought you back. We even took off your shoes so you could rest more comfortably in the guest room."
"Is that so? Then why didn't you call the police? Why bring me here?"
Strangers helping someone in need? That was rare enough. But bringing me into their home? That was downright suspicious.
"Call the police? That didn't seem necessary. You weren't hurt, just unconscious. We figured we'd let you rest here first. If you wanted to call the police, you could do it after you woke up."
"Did you see my wallet or phone?"
"No, we didn't touch your stuff."
I frowned. I'd been hit in the middle of a busy city street. How did I end up on a mountain road? The only explanation was that the driver who hit me thought I was dead, loaded me into their car, and dumped me somewhere remote. They must've taken my belongings too. Yeah, that had to be it. For now, I needed to figure out where I was and get out of here.
"Where is this place?"
"This is the Irene Community. Building B, apartment 1011," Jessica replied.
Irene? I didn't recall any community by that name in the city. Then again, real estate developers loved giving places random names. Who could keep track?
"What district is this in? What street? Near what landmark?"
"District? This is District 69. This is the newlywed housing area," Jessica said.
District 69? What kind of ridiculous name was that?
"Newlywed housing? They're giving out houses now?" I asked.
The couple exchanged another glance. The man replied, "What's so strange about that? Everyone gets a house when they get married. That's the whole point of Irene Community."
A chill ran down my spine. Something felt off. "Do you have a phone I can use? I need to call a friend."
"Sure." Jessica left the room and returned with a phone. As she handed it to me, I couldn't help but notice she was still nearly naked. She didn't seem the least bit self-conscious, and her husband didn't seem to care either.
The phone was a brand I'd never seen before, but it was a touchscreen model. The screen, when locked, was reflective enough to use as a mirror. I took the opportunity to check my face—nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then I unlocked the phone and dialed a number.
No response. After a moment, a robotic female voice said, "Sorry, the number you dialed is invalid."
My heart sank. I tried another number.
"Sorry, the number you dialed is invalid."
I tried a third.
"Sorry, the number you dialed is invalid."