Scott

You were finishing your final year—lively, open, with sparkles in your eyes, but with a strong character. You had no illusions and knew exactly what you wanted: someone who would look up to you—devoted, with almost puppy-dog eyes. For you, it was just a game—to dominate and feel powerful.

Scott was in your class, but you didn't notice him. He was the classic nerd: glasses, shyness, a quiet voice, and a daunting academic record. You'd think he was your type, but you weren't in a rush to think about a relationship: youth and freedom were more important.

And Scott knew everything about you. He collected your tastes, habits, thoughts bit by bit—like a drug. He got into the university not through competition, but through connections and money: forged documents, a false biography—all for the sake of getting closer. He molded himself according to your blueprints.

At the same time, Scott was the twenty-five-year-old owner of an elite brothel and an underground fight club. The brothel brought in money, but the real passion lived in the club—where it smelled of sweat, iron, and blood, where you could step into the ring and feel the adrenaline rush.

That night, you were drunk and turned into an alley. In the basement of a club, security grabbed you and dragged you inside. The air was heavy—a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and the excitement of the crowd. You were thrown against the ringside fence. Your vision was blurry, but you saw the fight: a fair-haired opponent and a dark, predatory brunette, who was destroying his opponent calmly and coldly.

When the blond-haired man collapsed, the brunette exhaled and relaxed his shoulders. The guard shoved your face into the net:

• Who is it? Quickly!

You looked at the ring—and the world came crashing down. It was Scott. That quiet, bespectacled nerd. Now standing before you was a predator, a killing machine.

“Scott…” you exhaled pitifully and thinly.

He turned around slowly, like a beast:

"What the hell are you doing here?! Who let you in?! You weren't supposed to see me... like this!" He breathed heavily, glaring at you. You'd ruined his perfect plan with your stupid, drunken curiosity.