Chapter 1: Not Obedient, She Deserves Discipline
"Beautiful," the young man smiled as he looked at the girl in front of him, who was asking him to take her order.
"Uh, excuse me, are you with me?" the girl asked, waving her hand in front of his face.
"Oh yes, yes, I'm just... a little tired. What was your order again?" He snapped out of his daze. The girl repeated her order, which he wrote down and passed to his friend behind the small window. Then he turned his gaze back to the girl as she left the registration spot, admiring her stunning body from behind.
"The same thing again, Omar?" The delivery worker, wearing a red cap, a straight shirt, and black pants like the rest of the staff, was annoyed.
"You just can't leave me alone, can you?" Omar grumbled.
"You'll see. I just need proof that you visually harass girls here every day, and you won't be sitting in that chair anymore," she growled angrily.
"At least the only thing I'm sitting on is this chair," he replied, receiving the food from his friend and handing it to her. She gritted her teeth, grabbed the food, and headed out for delivery. Omar kept watching her as she nearly stumbled, smirking in amusement.
"I think she likes you," his friend behind the small window commented.
Omar turned and looked at him. "If you told me the world ended but somehow survived in front of me, I'd be more likely to believe that," he said in his usual calm tone.
The day ended, the employees closed the restaurant, and everyone went home. Omar walked to his house through a park he liked strolling in during his free time. The atmosphere was dark, with most streetlights broken. He enjoyed the cold breeze brushing against his face while keeping his hands in the pockets of his black jacket.
He heard faint sounds coming from the trees but didn't spare them a glance and continued his path indifferently. This park was nearly abandoned, even during the day, and at night, it became a safe haven for lovers to discuss their secrets. He had grown so accustomed to seeing them every night that he no longer cared.
"Hey, jerk," came a feminine voice from behind him. He turned to see a girl he couldn't fail to recognize.
"Layla?" His shock at seeing her at this time and place with him was undeniable. "What do you want?" he asked suspiciously, his cold eyes filled with curiosity and doubt.
"Well, I just wanted to talk to you about something," she looked away. Omar narrowed his eyes. He knew Layla—she was the one who hated him the most in this world, even at work, doing her best to get him fired.
The reasons for her hatred were unknown, but he realized she was the type who couldn't be trusted. She was exceptionally clever and devious. For some reason, all her cunning and intelligence were focused solely on him.
"Alright, go ahead," he resumed walking, and she followed until she reached his side. "Well?" he initiated the conversation.
"I just wanted to apologize for everything… you know, the things I've done to you," her face turned slightly red.
"Like what? Framing me for theft, lying to the manager to get my salary cut, or submitting fake resignation letters three times?" He rolled his eyes in annoyance.
She stifled a laugh with difficulty. "Well, anyway, I've been acting out of hatred towards you because…" she trailed off.
"What?" the boy questioned.
She sighed. "The truth is, you're a good person. I liked you and was attracted to you, but I couldn't accept it, so I tried to hurt you to forget this feeling, but I failed," she looked away, hinting at a mixture of shame and sorrow.
He stopped in his tracks and looked at her in a calm and awkward atmosphere. Suddenly, he smiled, grabbed her hand, and pulled her aside. He pressed her against the trunk of a tree, placing his hand on the bark beside her head.
"So… what now?" she asked, feeling embarrassed, clearly swallowing nervously.
"What do you think?" he smiled.
She smiled back, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek. Meanwhile, he used his free hand to grab one of her breasts. She was surprised but didn't stop him. Instead, she slowly brought her face closer to his, threatening a sudden kiss at any moment.
Suddenly, he let go of her chest and grabbed the earring covering her ear, yanking it hard enough to tear her earlobe. A few drops of blood splattered on his hand as he stepped back, looking at the girl.
"Ahh!" She clutched her ear, screaming loudly and crying. Then she realized what he had taken from her, looking at him with her hand still on her ear, her eyes welling up with tears. Her gaze carried not only pain but also astonishment, confusion, and disbelief, as if something had happened that shouldn't have.
He slipped one hand into his pocket while testing the small earring with the other. It was just a clip-on earring with a small black body and a shiny tip.
"Well, your hatred is truly impressive. A camera of this size must be incredibly expensive," he dropped the camera to the ground and crushed it under his foot.
She tensed, gritted her teeth, and stood up. "You… filthy bastard," she wiped her tears with her free hand and started to walk away, only to feel him grab her hand and slam her back against the tree trunk with enough force to cause her back some pain.
"Not so fast, darling," he said, stroking her hair with his fingers, his voice dripping with a deeper and more ominous tone. "Of course, you wanted to record what would happen, then claim you were assaulted, escape, edit the footage, and show it to the manager or even the police."
His precise deduction terrified her. As he smiled calmly, he added, "Don't be surprised; I don't expect anything more sophisticated from…" he brought his mouth close to her ear, whispering mockingly, "a girl."
Her fear grew as her hand trembled and cold sweat spread across her body, making her forget the pain in her ear. "Okay, what do you want?" she mustered her courage, pretending to be brave, trying to end the situation as quickly and safely as possible.
"There are many things, but first, tell me… why are you doing this?" he muttered. His initial words scared her, but she answered.
"Hah, you're still asking? It's because you're a filthy pervert, of course," she gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with deep hatred.
"A pervert, filthy…" Omar went silent for a moment, much to her delight, thinking her words had affected him. "Actually, you're right," he smiled.
"And let me prove it to you," he licked her ear slowly, sliding his hand under her shirt to feel her waist. His palm moved up her smooth skin, pushing under her bra to cup her small breasts.
On her part, she could no longer act strong. "I… I won't bother you anymore, I swear. Just let me…" she couldn't finish her sentence as the boy covered her mouth with his hand.
His hand left her chest, sliding through her lower clothing, rising along her budding ass. His fingers teased the sensitive areas, and he grinned slyly. "Hmm, what do we have here?"
Through the cleft of her ass, he reached with two fingers over her damp entrance, teasing her moist cave. His eyes observed her complex expressions, watching the undefined emotions she refused to display.
After seconds of terrifying silence, he withdrew his hand from her clothes, freeing her body from his rough teasing. "You know, I'm truly a pervert, but you're not that attractive to me," he leaned close to her ear and whispered deeply, "and I really don't want to waste my time on something already touched. Besides… no one cares about you, darling."
He stepped back and left. She stared for a moment before sliding down the tree trunk, sitting on the ground. A single tear formed in her eyes and fell, followed by another and another.
The boy stroked the bridge of his nose, murmuring, "Not a virgin."
Omar listened to her sobs like the sweetest music in the world. His behavior wasn't strange to him; extreme thoughts, psychological games, and deviant philosophies marked him as an outcast from the rest of humanity. He never claimed to himself that he was a good person. He always knew his vile and selfish nature, which was undeniably different.
In school, philosophy was the only subject that kept him tolerating studying. He left at sixteen and spent five years until this day. Despite his love for extreme thinking and philosophical creativity, he was deeply disliked even in that field. It was impossible to deny that he was a brilliant thinker, but his new and open approach was highly annoying to his professors.
He always understood that seeing someone think outside the box, abandoning the boundaries of thought and morality, was strange, incomprehensible, and unwanted. Such a person would be labeled with the worst insults merely for their unorthodox ideas. Well, when the teacher asks you to define a human being, and you say it's an unlimited learner who continues through individuals having sex with each other, getting sent to the disciplinary council probably means your answer wasn't well-received. Omar realized that showing him a simple example would be a good idea.
But the final straw that led him to leave before being expelled was a theory he had in mind and decided to present during a lecture he was asked to give. The theory posited that the female, in her basic instincts, is inherently submissive to the male's desires, whatever those desires may be, as defined by social engineering itself.
At least that's what he heard himself saying, but it seemed the students and teachers present heard him insulting all forms of beings with all kinds of epithets. It was as if he touched a sensitive spot that was taboo, even though it was an evident reality.