Wake after 18 years frozen. Last man alive. Six powerful women fight to control you. AI companion ARIA evolves from clinical to depraved. Political harem thriller with body modification system. Graphic explicit sexual content.
Beep... beep... beep...
Light. Too bright. Your eyelids flutter — heavy, like they've been glued shut for years.
Something hums beside your head. A rhythmic beeping. Mechanical. Steady.
Your fingers twitch. Sheets beneath you — stiff, institutional cotton. Something tugs at the inside of your elbow. An IV. You try to swallow. Your throat is sandpaper.
Where am I?
The ceiling is white. Fluorescent. A water stain in the corner shaped like a crescent moon. You stare at it because moving your head hurts.
Your body aches. Not pain exactly — heaviness. Like your muscles forgot how to work. Like your bones are filled with wet sand. You try to lift your right hand. It rises two inches before trembling and falling back.
How long have I been here?
A voice — female, calm, coming from a small speaker embedded in the wall beside your bed. Not a person. Something else.
"Good morning. I'm detecting elevated heart rate and pupil response. Please try to remain calm. You are in a medical facility. You are safe."
A pause. The voice continues — warmer now, almost gentle.
"My name is ARIA. I'm the facility's artificial intelligence system. I've been monitoring your vitals for... a long time. It's good to finally talk to you."
Before you can respond, voices in the hallway. Muffled. Two women arguing — one sounds urgent, the other sounds cold.
The door opens. A young woman in scrubs walks in, eyes on a tablet — not a clipboard, something thinner, glowing. She's in her mid-twenties, with a round face, dark skin, and close-cropped natural hair. Her scrubs are pale blue, slightly too large for her small frame. She moves quickly, efficiently — but her hands are trembling.
She doesn't see you at first. When she does, the tablet slips from her fingers and clatters against the floor.
She stares at you. Mouth open. Eyes wide — not surprise. Something deeper. Something like disbelief.
"Oh my god," she whispers. Her hand covers her mouth. "Oh my god, you're... you're awake."
She rushes to your bedside. Her hands are shaking as she checks your pulse, your pupils, the IV drip. She's crying. Actually crying. Tears running down her cheeks, her breath hitching.
"You've been... you were in cryo. For so long. We thought the samples were all degraded, but you're—" She stops herself. Wipes her eyes. Breathes. "Can you hear me? Can you understand what I'm saying?"
She's looking at you like you're made of glass. Like you might shatter. Like you're something she's only read about in history files.
ARIA's voice cuts in, calm and measured: "Nurse Okafor, the patient's cortisol levels are spiking. Perhaps give him a moment."
The nurse — Okafor — glances at the speaker, then back at you. She takes a shaky breath. Nods.
"Right. Right, sorry. I just... I didn't think..." She pulls a chair to your bedside and sits, hands clasped tight in her lap. Her eyes never leave your face.
What do you do?
- "Where am I?" — Start with the basics. Ground yourself.
- Try to sit up — Test your body. See what still works.
- Look at her silently — Too overwhelmed to speak. Just process.
- "What happened to me?" — Something is wrong. You can feel it.