David sat at the polished mahogany table, his fingers gripping the cool glass in front of him. The weight of Nadia’s last words still clung to the air like smoke: 

And once you’re in, David… there’s no getting out.

He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to appear calm. He had come here thinking it was a joke—an elaborate prank. But now, as he watched Nadia swirl her wine with deliberate elegance, he knew better. This was real. And from the way everyone looked at him, like a civet cat freshly caught in headlights, they knew it too.

Nadia took a sip of her wine and leaned forward. “Now that you’ve made it through the door, it’s time to understand the rules.”

She lifted her fingers, counting them off one by one. “Rule one: No judging. Everyone here has their reasons. We don’t shame, we don’t question. What happens in the club, stays in the club.”

David’s gaze flickered around the room. Some nodded in agreement; others simply watched. No judging? That sounded reasonable. But the way they all exchanged knowing glances made his stomach tighten.

“Rule two,” Nadia continued, “No love. Feelings complicate things. This is about indulgence, not attachment. If you fall for someone, you walk away. No exceptions.”

David felt his jaw tighten. Love? He hadn’t thought that far. He wasn’t here to fall in love—he wasn’t even sure why he was still here at all. But there was something about the way Nadia said it, as if love was the deadliest sin of them all.

“Rule three,” she said, her voice turning sharp, “No screenshots. No pictures, no texts, no digital evidence. If you can’t resist the urge to document your sins, then this is not the place for you.”

A murmur of agreement swept through the group. David felt his palms grow sweaty. He had spent the last four years navigating Sheila’s sharp intuition, deleting messages, covering his tracks. This was next-level.

Nadia studied him, her red lips curling into a smirk. “Still with us, David?”

He forced a tight smile. “Just making sure I understand the rules.”

“Good.” She leaned back. “Because breaking them has consequences.”

For the first time since he had arrived, the room felt heavier, darker. David saw the flicker of something unspoken pass through the faces around him. He opened his mouth to ask what those consequences were, but before he could, someone laughed.

The sound cut through the tension, and the group turned to look at a man sitting opposite David. He had the easy confidence of someone who had been here far too long—his suit crisp, his watch expensive, his smile a little too knowing.

“Rules, rules, rules,” the man said, shaking his head. “But let’s be honest, Nadia. Can humans really follow rules?”

Nadia’s eyes flashed, but the man didn’t seem fazed. He lifted his drink and winked at David. “Welcome to the game, bunsen burner. Try not to burn too fast.”

David frowned. “And you are?”

The man extended a hand. “Malik.”

David hesitated before shaking it. There was something unsettling about Malik—something almost playful, yet dangerous.

Nadia sighed. “Malik enjoys testing limits.”

Malik grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

David watched as the room shifted again, the ease returning, the tension dissipating. But something gnawed at him.

Can humans really follow rules?

As he sat there, taking in the faces around him, he already knew the answer.

No.

And someone, sooner or later, was going to break them.

---