I Woke Up in a Reverse World Utopia with a 10,000 to 1 Ratio-Chapter 11: Clementine

The TV screen flickers with sweat-slicked bodies as I sink deeper into the sofa, my brain numbing from hours of state-sanctioned porn masquerading as patriotic duty. I should probably feel guilty about watching this stuff, but after the fourth hour, it’s basically become background noise, like a horny fireplace crackling away while I contemplate the ceiling tiles.

"The strongest men know their responsibility extends to all women," declares the caped hero on screen, his muscled body glistening under studio lights as he positions himself behind his latest partner. "True patriots don’t discriminate based on race or background."

The woman beneath him, petite with long black hair cascading down her back, lets out a theatrical moan that sounds about as authentic as my enthusiasm for this programming.

"Oh yes!" she cries, her thick accent making each word sound like it was run through some producer’s idea of what "exotic" should sound like. "You are so generous with your precious gift! So big, world hero!"

I wince, wondering if whoever wrote this dialogue has ever actually met a real person. The hero grips her hips tighter, launching into another speech about his "patriotic rod of salvation" while the woman responds with increasingly ridiculous praise for his "noble sacrifice."

"All women deserve chance to carry babies!" she gasps, her grammar conveniently deteriorating the more aroused she supposedly becomes.

I grab a pillow and press it against my face, groaning into the fabric. The sad part is, despite the cringey dialogue and over-the-top acting, my body is still responding. Apparently, my dick doesn’t care about quality screenwriting.

When the knock at the door comes, it’s like salvation from heaven. I scramble for the remote, jabbing frantically at buttons until the screen freezes on the hero’s face caught in mid-thrust ecstasy, possibly the worst possible frame to pause on.

"Coming!" I shout, then wince at my poor word choice as I hurry to the door, adjusting my pants to hide evidence of how the terrible programming affected me.

I approach the door, smoothing my hair and trying to appear casual despite the awkward situation. The panel beside the door registers my presence with a soft glow, and the door slides open with a quiet hiss.

Standing in the hallway is a woman. She’s slim with nervous eyes that dart around before settling on my face. She looks like she’s trying to appear confident but failing miserably.

"Hi?" I offer, the greeting coming out more like a question.

She just stares at me, her mouth opening slightly before closing again. The silence stretches between us, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"Can I help you?" I try again, leaning against the doorframe.

She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "Listen, I would never normally do this, but..." She glances nervously down the hallway. "My sister is Eliza. My name is Amber Pierce."

I blink, processing this information.

"Oh yeah," I say after a moment, "Kate told me about her. My old guardian, right?"

I feel strangely detached saying it. Whoever Eliza was to the old me, I have no emotional connection to her now. It’s like hearing about a character from a book I never read.

Amber’s eyes widen slightly at my casual tone. "That’s... that’s it? Just ’oh yeah’?" Her voice rises an octave.

I raise my hand to my face, tracing the raised edge of the scab that runs down my cheek.

"Your sister is the one who gave me this, right?" I ask, watching her reaction carefully.

Amber’s expression shifts, her facade crumbling further. She frowns, looking genuinely uncomfortable as she glances down the hallway again.

"Yes," she admits reluctantly. "But it wasn’t entirely her fault. She says Kate told her to do it. Eliza was following orders."

Kate wouldn’t order someone to cut my face. That doesn’t track with anything I know about her.

"I don’t believe you," I say flatly.

Amber flinches like I’ve slapped her. "Listen, I know how this sounds, but..."

"Alright," I interrupt, not interested in hearing elaborate excuses. "Let’s say I did believe you. Why are you here telling me this?"

Her shoulders slump slightly, relief washing over her face that I’m at least willing to hear her out. She takes a step closer, lowering her voice. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"The council has sentenced Eliza to death," she whispers, her voice cracking. "But they’ve said if you personally plead for her clemency, they might reconsider."

My eyebrows shoot up. Death? For cutting my face? That seems extreme, even in this bizarre new world where men are treated like endangered pandas.

"I’ll talk to Kate about it when she gets back," I say with a shrug, unsure what to do.

Amber’s face crumples, tears welling up in her eyes so suddenly it catches me off guard. She shakes her head vigorously, cutting me off before I can say anything else.

"Please," she begs, her voice breaking as tears spill down her cheeks. "Don’t just ’talk to Kate about it.’ I need you to actually help her!"

The intensity of her reaction makes me take a step back. She wipes frantically at her face, trying to compose herself but failing completely.

"Eliza can be a lot, I know that better than anyone," she continues, words tumbling out between sobs. "But she’s my sister. Please. I know she can be difficult and annoying. I’m sure she was horrible to you, but please..."

Her desperation is palpable, making me uncomfortable in a way I wasn’t expecting. This woman is literally begging for her sister’s life.

I feel something crack inside me as I watch her tears, my resolve crumbling like a sandcastle hit by a wave. Her desperation is too raw, too real to ignore, even for someone I have no connection to.

"Alright, alright," I sigh, running my hand through my hair. "What do I need to..."

"Amber, what are you doing away from your post?"

Kate’s voice cuts through the air like a whip, making us both jump. I turn to see her standing at the end of the hallway, her tall frame rigid with fury. Her face is transformed by anger in a way I’ve never witnessed before, her usual warm expression replaced by something cold and dangerous.

Amber freezes like a deer in headlights, her tear-streaked face draining of color. "Director Flynn, I was just..."

"Step away from him. Now." Kate’s words are clipped, each syllable precise and deadly as she strides toward us with predatory grace.

Despite the tension crackling in the hallway, something inside me gravitates toward Kate like a moth to flame. Her fury should terrify me, but all I can think is how much I’ve missed. Before I can stop myself, I’m moving toward her, arms outstretched.

"Hey," I say, a genuine smile spreading across my face as I reach for her. "I missed you."

Kate doesn’t return my embrace. Instead, she quickly steps forward, placing herself between me and Amber in one fluid motion. Her arm sweeps back, gently but firmly positioning me behind her tall frame, like a mother shielding her child from danger.

"Kate," I say, clearing my throat, "she was just asking me to, uh..." My mind goes blank for a second as I try to remember Amber’s exact wording. "Something about Eliza?"

Kate’s eyes narrow. "Plea for clemency for Eliza?"

"Yeah, that," I nod, relief washing over me that Kate understood.

Kate’s posture stiffens even more, if that’s possible. "Eliza is undeserving of such forgiveness after what she did to you, Tyler." Her voice is cold, clinical, so different from the warm tones I’ve grown addicted to.

I glance at Amber’s tear-streaked face behind Kate’s protective stance, then back to Kate. "Does it really matter if I say something to the council?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Kate looks at me and rolls her eyes, exasperation clear on her freckled face. "She’s a dangerous woman, Tyler. She could go on to hurt others."

"Other men?" I ask.

"No!" Amber interjects from behind Kate, her voice trembling but determined. "She’d never be allowed in the upper city again. Never near another male ward."

I take a deep breath, my conscience wrestling with my desire to please Kate. "Kate, I’d really like to..."

"Amber," Kate cuts me off sharply, turning to face the smaller woman. "I’ll get back to you on our decision about this later. And I will be reporting this to your director."

Amber’s shoulders slump in defeat. "Okay," she whispers, backing away slowly.

Without another word, Kate’s hand finds the small of my back, guiding me firmly into our room. The door slides shut behind us with a soft hiss, sealing us off from Amber and her desperate plea.

Kate’s hand remains on my back, but now her touch feels different, angrier than usual. The gentle pressure increases as she steers me toward the couch, away from the door and any thoughts of helping Eliza.

"You shouldn’t talk to strangers," she says, her voice softer now that we’re alone, but still carrying an edge I’ve never heard before. "Especially ones with personal connections to people who have harmed you."

"Kate," I say, meeting her gaze, "everyone’s a stranger to me except you. I don’t even remember Eliza, let alone have any real feelings about her."

Kate’s expression softens slightly, her fingers relaxing against my back. She guides me to sit on the couch beside her, her tall frame angled toward me.

"Tyler," she sighs, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "You don’t understand. People spend their whole lives trying to break into this facility. The security measures, the protocols, they exist for a reason. Men like you are incredibly valuable."

I glance at the frozen image on the TV screen, the heroic stud mid-thrust, then back to Kate’s concerned face.

"Kate, I get that she hurt me," I say, gesturing to the scar on my face. "But I don’t want someone’s death on my conscience."

Kate’s eyes narrow, studying me with an intensity that makes me shift uncomfortably.

"That’s..." I struggle to articulate my feelings. "Well, honestly, it’s awkward. I don’t even care about this woman, let alone want her to die. It feels weird to have that kind of power over someone I don’t know."

Kate’s jaw tightens. "So you’d grant clemency to the woman who disfigured you permanently, just because you feel ’awkward’ about her punishment?"

"Would you like me better if I wasn’t disfigured?"

Kate goes perfectly still, her green eyes widening with genuine shock. The anger drains from her face, replaced by something that looks almost like... pain.

"What?" she whispers, her voice suddenly small.

I gesture to the jagged mark running down my cheek. "This. Would I be more valuable to you without it? Is that why you’re so upset about Eliza getting clemency? Because she made me ugly?"

Kate’s hands fly to my face, cradling it between her palms with surprising gentleness. Her touch is electric against my skin, making my pulse quicken despite the tension between us.

"Tyler," she says, her voice breaking slightly, "I don’t mind your scar at all."

Her thumbs trace the raised edges of the healing wound, her touch light. Something in her expression shifts, darkens, becoming almost haunted.

"Then who cares if I let her go?" I shrug, trying to sound casual despite the weight of a human life hanging in the balance. "If I don’t even remember her, and the scar doesn’t bother you..."

Kate’s hands drop from my face as she pulls back slightly, her expression incredulous. "Tyler, you don’t understand. What you’re asking for is basically unprecedented. It’s been over forty years since the last time a man advocated for clemency against his own attacker."

I’m tired of dancing around the issue, tired of politics and half-truths. Something about this whole situation feels wrong, and I need clarity.

"Are you going to like me less if I do this? If I speak up for Eliza?" I ask, leaning forward and looking her dead in the eye.

Kate goes perfectly still again, her green eyes locked with mine. The question hangs between us, raw and honest in a way that strips away all pretense. I watch her face as she processes my words, a thousand calculations happening behind those expressive eyes.

She stares at me for what feels like eternity, and I can practically see her weighing her answer carefully. Finally, her shoulders relax just slightly.

"No," she says simply.

"You’re sure?" I press, not entirely convinced.

Kate tilts her head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. "If I told you I wanted her dead, would you let it happen?" she asks, her voice dropping to a silky whisper.

The question hits me like a physical blow. I hesitate, truly pondering the scenario she’s laid out. If Kate genuinely wanted Eliza dead, would I go along with it just to please her? The fact that I have to think about it at all sends a chill down my spine.

In my head, I start to form the thought. If she truly wanted her to die, then maybe I...

Kate cuts me off with a sudden, wide smile that transforms her entire face. The darkness that had been gathering between us vanishes like morning mist.

"Well, if you truly think it would be bad for your conscience," she says brightly, "I guess I can let you make your plea to the council."

The whiplash from her sudden change in demeanor leaves me momentarily speechless. One moment she was ready to fight me on this, and the next she’s accommodating my wishes with a smile.

"Really?" I ask cautiously. "Just like that?"

Kate rises from the couch with fluid grace, smoothing down her uniform. "Of course. You’re clearly bothered by this, and the last thing I want is for you to be upset." She reaches for her tablet on the coffee table. "I’ll make the arrangements for tomorrow morning after breakfast."