Evander was abruptly roused from his slumber by the sound of a muffled stomp echoing through the room. His eyes fluttered open to the faint early morning light filtering through the curtains, painting an ethereal glow on the scene unfolding before him. Sleep clung stubbornly to the edges of his consciousness, making him blink several times to dispel the foggy tendrils of a dream.
Seraphina, with her fiery auburn hair cascading down in a tousled waterfall, stood glaring at them, her slender arms stretched out in a position of combat. She was the human personification of a fiery tempest, her vibrant hair mimicking the flaming ire in her green eyes. Her face was contorted in a mixture of surprise and fury, and for a moment, he was captivated by the wild beauty of the scene.
Arckit, meanwhile, had been rudely awakened from her peaceful slumber, looking up at the angry woman before her with a mixture of confusion and defiance. Clad in Evander's oversized clothes that hung loosely on her petite frame, she made an amusing yet endearing sight.
And this was supposed to be a peaceful morning. Evander thought wryly, attempting to shield Lily from the impending chaos.
Without warning, Seraphina lunged forward, launching herself at Arckit. The room burst into a flurry of motion as the two women grappled with each other, their harsh whispers and muttered insults providing a dissonant soundtrack to the scene. The chaos unfolded in a confusing blend of fabric, hair, and flailing limbs, and Evander could barely make sense of it all.
Taking a decisive breath, Evander decided to intervene. Mustering his strength, he carefully pushed Arckit away with his legs, her slight weight sliding easily across the wooden floor. In the same swift motion, he moved to pin Seraphina to the ground, his larger frame overwhelming hers. The room descended into a sudden silence, punctuated only by their heavy breaths and the distant echo of birdsong from outside. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he braced himself for the aftermath of his actions.
The commotion drew the attention of the remaining women in the house. Emma, Joy, and Amara burst out of their respective rooms, their faces marked with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and dawning anger. The scene before them was unexpected, to say the least. Evander, poised over an indignant Seraphina on the floor, his face lined with a determined resolve, while Arckit, disheveled, tried to pull herself together.
The sight of Arckit, wearing clothes too large for her, and her smoldering gaze directed at Seraphina, was as startling as it was infuriating. Yet, it was the sight of Lily, still seated in the makeshift bed, that sent a jolt of realization through them all. The undercurrents of the situation began to click into place, stoking the embers of their displeasure into a raging fire. Voices started to overlap, the women's objections and complaints spiraling into a chaotic cacophony of discontent. Accusations flew, each voice striving to outdo the others in their protest.
Just a peaceful morning, huh? Evander thought to himself sarcastically, trying to mediate the chaos. His words were quickly swallowed by the escalating arguments, each woman casting her indignation into the turbulent sea of voices. He attempted reason, tried to instill calm, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
In a final act of defiance, Evander raised his voice above the maelstrom, declaring, "Arckit is staying because she…" He let his words hang in the air, a cliffhanger that caused the women to fall silent, their attention riveted on him. The tension in the room was palpable, their eyes narrowing, waiting for the justification to this madness.
In the silence that followed, Evander seized his chance. Tapping into his ability to manipulate time, he launched himself towards his room in a blink. The world around him became a blur as he sprinted with unnatural speed, everything appearing to move in slow motion. Within seconds, he reached his door, and as he snapped back into the regular flow of time, he dove in, slamming the door shut behind him with a final, resounding thud.
Breathing heavily, he slid down the door, locking it firmly. Outside, he could still hear the indistinct mumble of arguments, the tide of their anger not yet abated. He let out a long sigh, pressing his forehead against the cool wood of the door, surrendering to the quiet safety of his solitude.
Evander threw himself onto his bed, letting out a low, frustrated groan. His mind whirled with the absurdity of the situation he found himself in. With a huff, he turned to his side, resting his head on his arm as he stared blankly at the wall.
He muttered under his breath, voicing his incredulity to the empty room. The contrast was stark, almost laughable. He had lived a life where he had been the pursuer, vying for the attentions of women, contending with other men in a constant competition. A lifetime spent understanding and navigating the intricate dance of courtship, only to be thrust into a role he had no experience or knowledge of.
Why did things have to be so backwards here? He thought, his mind reeling in the face of the situation. He felt like a puppet, yanked around by the strings of circumstances he had no control over. The institute seemed determined to broker the boys, lining them up as though they were items to be auctioned. The mere thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Money. The word echoed in his mind. It's always about the money. He supposed that was the underlying motivation. Money had a way of warping even the most noble intentions, leaving them unrecognizable in its wake. Yet, it was the normalcy of it all that struck him the most. The skewed gender ratio in this world made these practices not only accepted but expected. He shook his head, still unable to wrap his mind around the concept.
His gaze moved to the ceiling, the screen above seeming to mirror his own turmoil. He felt the familiar stirrings of uncertainty creeping in. His mind whirled with questions and doubts. Should he fight against the current or go along with it? What was his place in all of this?
He closed his eyes, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. For the moment, the answers eluded him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. He sighed, resigned to the whirlpool of thoughts circling in his mind.
In the quiet solitude of his room, Evander allowed his mind to wander, carving out different paths that his life could possibly take in this strange new world. Each potential decision branched out, creating a myriad of possibilities, all leading to varied consequences. He mulled over one of the more enticing options - to simply walk away. A life in the wilderness, living off the land, hunting, and surviving, much like the primal days of mankind. An appealing prospect indeed.
It held a certain allure, the raw simplicity of it. There was an undeniable attraction to the idea of removing himself from the machinations of the institute, the complex web of politics and money. A return to the basic, unadulterated essence of life, allowing his newly discovered powers to flourish unrestrained. The wilderness would offer him a freedom and solitude he found inviting.
Just leave it all behind. The thought danced in his mind, tempting him. The prospect was a siren call, threatening to sweep him into its embrace.
However, he knew he couldn't. His gaze lowered, a frown forming on his features. The image of the boys he had helped and mentored rose to the surface of his thoughts. He felt a surge of protective responsibility for them, a sentiment he hadn't expected to cultivate.
They need me. I can't just abandon them now, he admitted, confronting the truth of his feelings. The sense of duty towards them was a tie that bound him to this world, to the institute.
Yet, he couldn't deny the other facet that tethered him. He enjoyed the attention he was receiving from the women, the almost addictive thrill of being sought after. He was a man, after all, a primal part of him relished in the admiration, the desire.
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The gender ratio… Evander acknowledged the reality of the situation. The disproportionate gender ratio in this world was a constant, something he'd have to face regardless of his actions. It was an issue that would not disappear if he chose to step away, a fact that would follow him into any future he might carve out.
For now, though, he decided it was best to let tempers cool. Experience had taught him that heated emotions rarely led to reasonable decisions. He would wait, weather the storm, and when the waters were calm, he would navigate his way forward.
The rhythmic chanting of raised voices dwindled down to a murmur, and then to a low hum, signaling the passing of the immediate storm. Evander perceived this momentary lull as the perfect opportunity to step into the vortex of tensions that had swirled up in his absence. With a deep breath, he unlocked his door and ventured into the lioness's den.
Upon his arrival, the cavernous lounge, ordinarily a place of tranquility and relaxation, seemed transformed. The elegant couches were no longer inviting; they now resembled a battleground where gladiators had converged. The women sat, arms folded across their chests, their gazes intent, sizing up their competition. The air crackled with palpable tension, an invisible thread of competition weaving its way around the room.
Arckit, perched like a victorious queen, wore a smug grin on her face. As she spotted Evander, she rose, an unexpected predator ready to pounce. Her words sliced through the room like a knife, "Do you want to tackle the computer game now?"
Before the echoes of her words faded, Joy, another player in this complex game, rose to the challenge. Standing with an air of resolution, she declared, "I have some expertise in computer programming. I'd love to help."
The proclamation earned her a dark, almost venomous look from Arckit, who opened her mouth to retaliate. But before the poisonous barbs could be let loose, Evander intervened, raising his voice to command the attention of the room.
"I think," he began, his voice steady, resonating with a clarity that demanded attention, "we all need to have a talk."
And like that, he seized the reins of the conversation. The room fell into silence as all eyes shifted to him, waiting, attentive, the underlying tensions momentarily set aside in the face of this new development.
"I want you all to imagine a man," he began, his voice steady, but brimming with intent, "a man of this world who is so innocent that he has no idea about the supposed normal relationships that occur between men and women."
As if on cue, a light chuckle floated up from Emma's direction. "That sounds very much like you, Evander," she jested, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
Evander met her jest with a smile of his own, not missing a beat. "Of course, it's purely hypothetical," he continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Nobody could possibly be so innocent in this world that they would need to be told what to do in the bizarre situation they find themselves in."
Lily, always the analytical one, looked thoughtful. She sat up, her eyes piercing Evander's with their intensity. "So, you're suggesting someone with no preconceived notions of what is expected of men in general?" she asked, her words carrying a note of curiosity.
With a swift nod, Evander pointed at her, appreciating the keen insight she had displayed. "Exactly, Lily," he affirmed. Then, he posed a question that had hung in the air since he began his discourse, "So, firstly, what is expected of men?"
Evander's question hung heavily in the air, an abstract puzzle that seemed to confound his female counterparts. Their faces reflected their shock, mouths agape like beached fish gasping for breath. The ensuing silence was a sharp contrast to the previously noisy room.
Seraphina broke the silence, her usually fiery eyes reflecting a touch of uncertainty. "Are you asking in general?" she queried, seeking clarification. He nodded, confirming her suspicion.
Emma was the next to speak, her voice a teasing lilt. "To look pretty," she suggested, accompanying her words with a crude gesture that sent ripples of giggles through the room. It was almost as if he had been transported back to his old world, where the boys would double over in laughter at off-colour jokes.
But Evander was not amused. His brows furrowed as he sought further clarification. "Is that all?" His stern tone quieted the giggles, as if he had punctured their bubble of mirth.
Arckit, always ready for a debate, took up the reins of the conversation. Her blunt demeanor rarely spared anyone, and today was no different. "Even though Emma's statement was crass, it's not entirely inaccurate," she said, her eyes defiant. "There are indeed women who hold that general consensus about men."
Evander frowned, a flicker of dismay shadowing his features. "That seems quite demeaning to men," he said, his tone more pensive than accusing.
Amara, who had been a silent observer till now, chimed in. "It hasn't always been this way," she began, referencing the historical aspect. Amara had barely begun her historical discourse when Arckit cut her off. "That's history, Amara," she said, a dismissive wave of her hand silencing the other woman. She turned her attention to Evander, her face stern, eyes alight with the gravity of the issue at hand.
"You need to understand the present, Evander," she said, her voice firm. "We live in a world with an immense scarcity of men. They're not seen often in the outer city, most are tucked safely in zones away from the turmoil."
There was a pause as she let the reality sink in, her gaze never wavering from Evander's. "Our city is no exception. Men are a rarity, most of them are sequestered in what we call 'safe zones', away from the chaos of the everyday world."
Arckit stood, her face impassive but her eyes burning with conviction. She started to speak, each word calculated and heavy with unspoken knowledge.
"First, we must talk about reproduction," she began, her gaze drifting from one stunned face to another. "The lack of men forces us to consider alternative methods. In-vitro fertilization using preserved sperm, or even magical means with sperm - they are our only options."
The room was silent. She allowed her words to settle before continuing.
"Second, we women shoulder it all: leadership, defense, manual labor. Everything."
There was a shift in the room. A quiet understanding, a shared acknowledgment of the burdens they carried.
"Thirdly, power dynamics have been altered drastically. We live in a matriarchal society where women hold all positions of power. We've had to change our relationships as well. Familial structures, friendships, even romances... all evolved to suit the reality."
She paused, her gaze lingering on each woman in the room. "And this reality, as you know, hasn't come without its emotional and psychological toll. Some of us have felt loss, confusion, relief... it varies for each woman, depending on their past experiences."
Arckit glanced at Evander, her eyes softening momentarily before she continued.
"Our society has been forced to develop faster than ever, technologically speaking. We've had to compensate for the physical differences and the void men left behind. In terms of reproductive technologies and labor-intensive tasks, we've excelled."
She let out a soft sigh before continuing, "In our magical world, this absence of men has also affected our practices and rituals. We've seen the rise of new magical practices, focusing more on feminine energies, even attempts to magically restore the gender ratio."
With her final point, her voice held a note of anger, "The scarcity of men has led to their exploitation. They're seen less as individuals and more as commodities. The institute's situation is a stark example of this."
As her words filled the room, the reality of their world became even more poignant. There was a long silence as each woman processed what Arckit had said. They knew she was right. They were living the consequences of a world without men, and it was anything but easy.
The words hung in the air, a bell tolling in the silent room. Evander, whose perspective had been demanded, now held their undivided attention. His hands absentmindedly traced the rough grain of the wooden table, a grounding point amid the charged atmosphere.
"I think... I think the opposite situation would be worse," he began, his voice steady despite the dozens of wide eyes fixed on him. "Imagine a world with only a few women."
As his words echoed around the room, it seemed as though the air itself stilled. The absence of men in their society was a shared, lived reality. But this... this was an alien concept. Yet the thought alone elicited a visceral response - a world, like their own, imbalanced but tipped towards the other side.
A part of Evander's mind found it ironic. Back in his old life, in the world where he had been born, his existence hadn't been extraordinary. Being a man was the norm. And now, in this world, he was the exception - a fascinating novelty. Funny how life works, he thought with a shake of his head, a wistful smile gracing his lips.
Involuntarily, his mind began to unravel that thread. A world with only a few women... Would it be that different from here? Probably... It would likely be far worse.
He opened his mouth to continue, but the words tangled in his throat. Suddenly, he felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, a chasm filled with memories and thoughts he preferred not to voice. Yet, he knew they were watching, waiting for him to finish his train of thought.
"Sometimes, I feel... in a man's world, life can be..." he trailed off, his voice reduced to a murmur. His gaze dropped to his hands. The room, previously silent, filled with a strange, buzzing tension. It was as if his words had created a rift, the impact of his comment causing a ripple effect that left them all disoriented.
His gaze darted up, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face as he found a sea of confused and curious eyes. He realized his words had lost their track midway, leaving the women hanging on an incomplete sentence.
In the silence that stretched on, he swallowed hard, his eyes meeting theirs again. But instead of continuing, he simply shook his head, an apology forming in his eyes. "Never mind," he muttered, the whisper barely audible in the room. "It's not important."