Chapter 1: TheAmbush
The fluorescent lights in the hallway flickered like dying fireflies as I locked my apartment door behind me. The scent of damp concrete and something faintly like boiled cabbage clung to the air—a smell I’d grown used to over the past year.
A year. One whole year since I’d woken up in this world, where the sky was the wrong shade of violet and the women could set you on fire with a glare... sometimes literally. I found myself in a world of swords and sorcery, with a heap of dystopian hellscape, a side aristocratic corruption, covered in thick matriarchy sauce. It honestly wasn't much to my liking.
Luckily I was able to find a shelter for men and a social worker helped get me back on my feet in this upside-down world. She even got me a job at a local pub.
Which brings me to today. Another shift at the *Gilded Cauldron*. Another night of scrubbing dishes, dodging amorous women and the owner's contempt. At least it paid... barely.
It was usually enough to keep the lights on and the landlady from kicking me out. One or two emergencies in and that was quickly changing. I was behind. Dangerously so.
The hallway was quiet this early in the morning, the only sound the distant hum of a ventilation system that had seen better decades. I took a few quick step forward, when a voice, sweet as warm milk and honey, cut through the silence like a knife.
"On your way to work, are we?"
I froze as if that voice had come from deth himself. I turned to see Beth leaning against the doorframe of her apartment, arms crossed over her ample chest. Her glossy black skin caught the dim light, the neon-green spots along her arms and face were pools of bioluminescent algae floating above a bottomless abyss. I often found myself entranced by the juxtaposition, never sure if it was my attraction to her skin or some power her kind possessed. I'm always too embarrassed to ask her about it, so the mystery lives on.
She's a striking woman, even by this world’s standards. She's tall yet delicate, with a presence that filled the hallway like a warm wind. Her green eyes matched her skin spots, sharp and knowing, studying me with the kind of maternal concern that always made me feel like I was measured and found wanting.
I forced a smile. "Yeah, just heading out now."
Beth pushed off the doorframe and stepped toward me, her bare feet making no sound on the floor. She made a concerned sigh. "It's dangerous out there, boy. Please be careful." She reached out, plucking a loose thread from my shirt with surprising gentleness.
"You're looking thinner. Are you eating properly?"
I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. I hadn't been. Money was tight. "I manage."
Beth's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's not an answer."
I exhaled through my nose, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, Beth, I appreciate the concern, but I'm doing fine. Really."
She made a sound in her throat that was half scoff, half sigh. "You're not fooling me. You're a human boy in a women's world." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You need to find a wife. A good woman to guid and take care of you. Your handsome and sweet. I'm sure young woman would fall over themselves to snatch you up and take care of you."
I blink at her in confusion, then remember where I am. I'm still not really used the the paradigm reversal of this world. Not wanting a fight, I nod. "I'll keep that in mind, Beth. Thank you."
She studies me for a long moment, then sighs and pats my shoulder. "Fine. But if you end up in the infirmary again, I'm not bailing you out this time. And don't forget, you still owe me back rent. I care about you but if you can't provide back rent, by the end of the month, I'll have to declare you delinquent. I'll hold off till then, deal?"
"Deal." I say, stepping around her before she can say anything else. This is a dangerous topic and I literally can't afford to talk to her about it yet. "And thanks again, Beth!"
The hallway stretches ahead of me, the flickering lights casting long shadows that seem to dance just out of reach. I quicken my pace, eager to put some distance between me and Beth’s well-meaning but suffocating concern.
I step out onto the streets of the city, making my way toward the bar. The afternoon air is warm but city's scents are an acquired taste that I've never quite acquired.
The streets of the city are alive with the hum of demihuman life—some with horns, others with scales, a few with wings tucked neatly against their backs. The air smells of fried street food, ozone from the occasional magical mishap, and the faint metallic tang of the river that cuts through the city like a vein.
I keep my head down as I walk, my hands shoved deep in my pockets. The last thing I need is to draw attention to myself. In this world, humans are bottom tier. We’re the weakest of the weak. I’ve learned the hard way that standing out as a human is a bad idea.
I glance down at my watch as I rush along the crowded street. I'm running late but if I cut through the alley, I should make it to work on time. The alleyways are dark, but I know them well. I've learned to navigate the maze of shadows and dumpsters and I know witch ones to avoid. At least I thought so. I was about to learn that things had changed.
The narrow passage is slick with something that glistens under the faint glow of flickering neon signs. The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete and a sour acidic tang of something I'd rather not identify. I keep my eyes forward, focusing on the end of the alley.
A sudden movement catches my eye and I stumble back. A short creature of equal parts sex and danger moves towards me. She’s dressed in a fitted leather jacket and latex leggings that hug her curves. Her top is glossy and low cut. Its the kind of outfit that says 'I take what I want.' Her eyes— red as passion, like molten fire—lock onto mine with the kind of focus that makes my skin prickle.
She looks up at me, a slow, predatory smile curling her lips, despite the fact that she's roughly half my height. "Bit far from home, aren't we, pup?" Her voice has a sexy rasp to it, not rough like gravel but silky, like wet sand.
I swallow hard. For a moment, I consider attacking her but I know better. In this world, a human male attacking a female is a bad idea. If I win, I'm an upstart human, who doesn't know his place. If I lose I'll get victim blamed for being in the wrong place without an escort. I break eye contact, not wanting to provoke her further. "Just passing through."
The imp's grin widens, revealing sharp canines. She takes a step closer, her boots making soft sounds on the wet pavement. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, I've claimed this alley. You have to pay the toll... even if you are a cutie." She chuckles.
I glance down at my feet, then back at her, biting back a grumble. "I don't have anything valuable." I say, keeping my voice steady.
The imp's eyes narrow but her grin remains. "Oh, but I think you do." She flicks her spade-tipped tail, the motion so quick it's almost a blur. "Hand it over, and I won't have to make this painful."
I tense, my fingers curling into fists. I probably don’t stand a chance, even against this short imp, the weakest of the demon kin—but something in me rebels at the idea of just giving in. "I'm not giving you anything. I'm running late and you're in my way." I say through clinched teeth.
The imp's smile drops, replaced by a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Wrong answer, sweetness."
Before I can react, her eyes pulse with indigo light. I feel a wave of energy, like pins and needles pass through my body. My legs lock in place, muscles seizing like rusted hinges. I stumble forward, my knees buckling, but I don’t hit the ground—her magic holds me upright, frozen in place.
The Imp steps closer, her boots thump against the wet pavement. "You're brave for a human..." she purrs, circling me like a predator sizing up prey. "Stubborn and weak... But you have spunk." She reaches out, plucking my wallet from my back pocket with a flick of her fingers. "But I like that in a man. Another woman might have beat you. But I have a policy against beating on the weaker sex."
I grit my teeth, my body trembling with frustration. The paralysis magic is like being trapped in ice—every muscle locked.
She flips open my wallet with one clawed finger, her red eyes scanning the contents with a mix of amusement and disappointment.
"Huh. Not even a queen's note?" She snorts, referring to a paper bill that would have paid for my meals for most of a week. Of course I didn't carry that kind of cash. She tosses the wallet aside. It lands with a wet *thwack* in a puddle. "Pathetic. Handsome boy like you? Doesn't your woman pay you a decent allowance?"
I glare at her, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. *"No woman owns me. I work for a living!"*
Ann tilts her head, her pointed ears twitching. Her red eyes narrow, the black slits of her pupils dilating slightly as she studies me. Then she grins mischievously. "Single, are we? Maybe you're just too headstrong for most girls? You'd probably land a wife if you were more submissive."
She steps closer, her tail flicking behind her. The leather of her jacket creaks as she moves, the scent of her musky perfume wafts toward me.
"And you say you work?" she scoffs, her voice dripping with amusement.
"A human toy? Working in this queendom? That’s adorable. What, you scrubbing toilets for the Queen’s ladies or something?"
I don’t answer. The paralysis spell still has me locked in place, my muscles screaming in protest, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.
"No, not dressed like that... something menial, perhaps. Like a cashier." Ann leans in, her breath warm against my cheek as she whispers, "You know, I *like* that you’re not begging. Most human boys would be panicking by now."
She reaches up, her clawed fingers tracing the line of my jaw. Her touch is soft, almost gentle, but the threat beneath it is unmistakable. I can feel the sharpness of her claws, the way they could easily draw blood if she wanted. But I don’t flinch. I won’t give her the satisfaction.
Ann’s grin widens, her slitted red eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, you’re fun!" she purrs, her voice dripping with mock admiration. "I'm beginning to think your courage isn't an act. I think you and I going to be good, close friends." She steps back, her tail flicking behind her like a whip. "But I’m still going to take your money."
I grit my teeth. "You already did."
She chuckles, a sound like shifting diamonds. "Oh, no, sweetheart. You still owe me for wasting my time and mana. Next time we meet, you'd better pay up. If you show up with anything less than a Queen's note... I may have to find other ways of collecting my due." She snaps her fingers, and the paralysis spell releases me. I fall to the ground unceremoniously in a heap of limbs. I stagger to my feet, catching myself against the damp brick wall of the alley.
Ann watches me with a smirk, her tail flicking lazily behind her. "Try not to trip on your way to work, *human*." With that, she turns on her heel and saunters off. I watch her go, grinding my teeth.
I push off the wall, my legs still unsteady from the paralysis spell. My wallet is now empty. Great. Just great. I collect the wet accessory and put it back in my pocket.
I glance at my watch. There is no way I make it in time. I kick the wall in frustration.
The thought of facing Eva after being robbed makes my stomach twist. Last time I was late, she "disciplined" me with a belt. I rub my palm against my ass, remembering the sting. Eva doesn’t tolerate lateness. Especially from *me*, a human male. She considers it an act of charity to hire me, at all.
The alley’s neon glow fades as I step back onto the busting street. My sneakers slap against the wet pavement as I hurry toward the Gilded Cauldron, its neon sign flickering above the door like a warning.
Sure enough, I’m late. Again. Eva hired me because she thinks I'm easy on the eyes and thought I'd attract customers. I know she likes me, in her own way, but that wont spare me from punishment.
The bar’s front door swings open before I can even reach for it, the hinges groaning like a dying beast. Eva stands in the doorway, her sleek black tail lashing behind her, her claws glinting under the dim light of the streetlamps. She’s dressed in a fitted leather corset, under a short, open blazer. And matching skirt. Her athletic legs are clad in dark, glossy panty hose ending in shiny, leather flats. Her feline ears twitch as she locks eyes with me, her golden irises narrowing to slits.
"You’re late, boy." she says, her voice low and dangerous, like the growl of a predator before it strikes. "We opened 3 minutes ago and I've had to tend the bar, myself."
I swallow hard. Eva's voice cuts through the din of the bar like a whip crack, sharp and unyielding. "My office. Now." She doesn’t raise her voice, but the command in her words is unmistakable. The other patrons—mostly demihumans with sharp ears and sharper claws—glance our way, their expressions a mix of amusement and pity.
This early, the pub is only populated by the diehard regulars, women who’ve seen me come and go for months. They exchange knowing looks. One, a tall, horned demon-kin with emerald eyes, smirks and mouths "Good luck." before turning back to her drink.
I sigh and do as ordered.
Eva’s office is at the back of the bar. The door is already open, waiting. I step inside.
The office smells like leather and expensive perfume. Eva doesn’t bother to close the door behind me. She wants to embarrass me. The entire bar knows what’s about to happen.
"How long have you worked for me, human?" she asks, calmly. She doesn’t look up from the ledger on her desk, her claws tracing the columns of numbers.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. "Nine months..." I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Give or take."
Eva finally looks up, her golden eyes locking onto mine with the kind of focus that makes my skin prickle. "Nine months." she repeats, as if she doesn’t already know the answer. "And in that time, how many times have you been late?"
"T-three times." I wince, feeling my cheeks grow hot.
"Three times." Eva's tail flicks once, the motion sharp and deliberate. "Three times too many." She leans back in her chair, the leather creaking under her weight. The dim light of the office casts long shadows across her face, making her feline features seem even more predatory. "You know the rules, boy. And you know the consequences. Don't like it? Stay in the kitchen, where you belong. But while you work at my bar, you follow my rules or you face my discipline."
I force myself to meet her gaze, even as my pulse quickens. "I know. I'm sorry. I-it's just, I was attacked and..."
Eva raises a hand, cutting me off, looking completely disinterested. "I don't care if an invading army stands between you and that bar." Eva's voice drops to a dangerous purr. "The only thing that matters to me is that you show up *on time* and do your job. And you failed on both counts."
She turns, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. The office suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker. My pulse hammers in my throat as she steps around the desk, her movements fluid and predatory.
"Bend over my lap! Disobedient toys must be taught a lesson." she commands, her voice leaving no room for argument.
I hesitate for half a second, my mind flashing back to the last time she'd punished me. The humiliation. The way my cheeks had burned as the other employees snickered behind my back.
The way my pride had curled up and died right there on the sticky bar floor.
But I don’t have a choice. Not when a man’s survival depends on the goodwill of women like Eva.
I exhale slowly, steeling myself, and step forward. I step closer, my sneakers silent on the polished wood, and Eva moves faster than I expect—her hand snaps out, gripping the back of my neck with a strength that belies her slender frame. Before I can react, she yanks me forward, and I stumble, my chest hitting her thighs as she pulls me over her lap with effortless precision.
The impact startles me. The leather of her skirt is cool against my stomach, the scent of her perfume—something dark and smoky—fills my nose as I brace my hands against the floor. My face burns, but I don’t struggle. I learned months ago that fighting back only makes it worse.
Eva’s claws scrape lightly against the back of my neck, a warning. “Count!” she commands, as she open-hand slaps my backside.
I'm so shocked I don't even respond, before she smacks my ass again. "I said, 'count.' Don't make me repeat myself."
The sound echoes in the small office, sharp and humiliating. My face burns, but I force myself to speak, my voice strained. "One."
Eva's grip on my neck lets up slightly. "Good boy." she purrs, the words dripping with mockery. "Let's hear you do better than that."
The next smack comes quicker, the sting radiating through my jeans. "Two."
Eva grins dangerously. "You're learning." Her tail flicks against my side.
"Louder!" she commands. "I want the whole bar to hear you."
I grit my teeth, my fingers curling against the floor. Then comes the hardest one yet. "Three!" I force out, my voice louder this time.
Eva hums in approval, her claws drum the back of my neck. "That's better. Now, that was one for every time you've been late. And one extra for not counting as you were told. I expected my boys to be punctual and obedient. Do I make myself clear?" Eva asks.
I nod, my cheek pressed against the cool leather of her skirt. "Y-yes, ma'am." I reply meekly.
"Good. Now, get out there and make me some money, boy. You're luck these ladies seem to like you, or I'd just fire you and be done with it. Don't think I can't find another, just like you." Eva's claws tap against her desk as she watches me stand, my face burning hotter than my ass. "And if I catch you even a *second* late again, I won't be so gentle."
I force myself to nod, my jaw clenched tight. The attention of the patrons hits me like a wave as I pass through the open doors, some smirking, others looking away quickly. The horned customer from earlier winks at me. "Rough day, sweetheart?"
I ignore her, grabbing my apron from the hook behind the bar. The fabric is stiff with old grease stains, laden with the scent of bleach and stale cocktails.
I work my shif, doing my best to ignore the jokes and grabs from the customers. By the end of the night, my apron’s pockets bulge with crumpled bills—tips, mostly from my regulars. They likely pity me, but a tip is a tip. The thought burns almost as much as Eva’s slaps had.
The bar was packed tonight, the usual crowd of demihumans and a few rare human women who’ve managed to carve out some semblance of power in this world. Now, only a few bar flies mill about. I try telling them to leave but they don't listen.
One of them, a horned woman with a grin too sharp for her face, leans over the bar and catches my wrist before I can pull away. "Awe. Come on, sweetheart..." she purrs, her claws digging in just enough to make my pulse jump. "Sending me home already, Sugar? The night's still young."
I try to tug free, but her grip tightens. "We're closed for the night." I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Please, let me go."
The horned woman laughs, her breath smelling of cheap wine. "Oh, don't be like that. At least let me walk you home."
I glance toward Eva's office. The door is open and she seems annoyed by what's happening. She steps out and her tail flicks with irritation. Her voice is low and dangerous. *"Let him go."* She says, her claws glinting in the dim light. The horned woman hesitates, her grip tightening for a moment before she finally releases me with a smirk. "Fine, fine. No need to get your tail in a twist, cat." She winks at me, her claws scraping against the bar top as she pushes away. She staggers, inebriated from a night of drinking. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart." She turns and shambles out the door. Eva watches her go, her golden eyes narrowing to slits. "You're lucky I was here, boy." she murmurs. "You make good tips and the customers like you, but this is no place for a boy as soft as you."
I rub my wrist where the woman's claws had dug in, the skin already red and tender. *"I... Thanks, Eva."* I mutter, avoiding her gaze.
The sting of the woman’s claws lingers, a reminder of how quickly things can turn dangerous in this world. Eva’s tail flicks once, sharp and dismissive, before she turns back to her office. "Get out of here. I'll lock up. See you tomorrow, and don't be late."
I take it for the dismissal it is, hang up my apron and collect my tips.
The night air hits me like a slap as I step outside. The streets are quieter now, the crowds gone as the night deepens. I head home, taking the long and safe route—past the empty fruit stalls, under the flickering streetlamps, and away from the darker alleys where imps like Ann might still be lurking.
My hands are jammed deep in my pockets, fingers curled around my crumpled tips. The money feels heavier than it should, like a reminder of how much it actually means in this world.
The apartment building looms ahead, a few of its windows glowing with the dim, sickly light of cheap bulbs. I slip through the front door and make my way to my spartan apartment. The lock clicks shut behind me, sealing me in the dim glow of a single flickering bulb. The room smells like old sweat and takeout containers. I kick off my shoes and drop my keys in a bowl. I boil some water and eat an unfulfilling cup of noodles, the cheap broth doing little to settle the knot in my stomach. I eat quickly, barely tasting it, my mind replaying the day’s humiliations—the robbery, Eva’s punishment, the horned woman’s claws.
I set the empty cup in the waste basket. The apartment feels smaller than usual, the walls pressing in. I rub my tired eyes, the exhaustion settling in my bones.
I don't bother getting undressed and climb into bed. "I hate this world." I grumble, not for the first, and probably not for the last time, before drifting off to sleep.