Valen woke to the faint pulse beneath his skin. The sigil burned lightly on his chest, a quiet rhythm that matched his heartbeat. He flexed his fingers. Nothing happened — or so he thought.
The suspension had given him freedom. No school, no teachers, no peers. Perfect conditions for experimentation.
He muttered softly, testing: "Bring me the newspaper."
Seconds later, the delivery boy outside the gate jogged up, handing him the paper with a curious, hesitant look. "Uh… sure?"
Valen froze. Shock and thrill surged together. People obeyed him.
He tried another: "Go back and wait for the next delivery." The boy complied instantly, walking backward down the street, cautious and confused.
A grin twisted across his face. This was power.
But there was a catch. Calm, orderly environments dulled the effect. When no one around him caused chaos, compliance wavered. He realized it: obedience needed fuel — disorder, disruption, and human conflict.
Over the next few days, Valen tested the limits of his ability. He whispered to pedestrians: "Stop." They froze mid-step. "Argue with him." Strangers bickered furiously over nothing. He triggered tiny disturbances: a cyclist swerved into a puddle, a street vendor's cart toppled, a dog barked incessantly. Each ripple of disorder strengthened his influence.
Midway through the week, Valen paused, a strange clarity settling over him. He stared at the chaos he'd been orchestrating.
"No… this isn't it. My battle isn't against people. It's against the herd, the blind obedience, the rituals and rules that keep them chained. If I'm smart, I don't just bend them — I break the system."
For a moment, purpose filled him. He wasn't just enjoying control. He had a mission. Humanity wasn't the enemy — the blind faith and fear they clung to was.
The realization sharpened his experiments. Commands became surgical: he whispered phrases to provoke arguments, disrupt routines, and expose the absurdity of blind compliance. The chaos grew, and obedience followed naturally.
And then, dangerously, a thrill crept in. He laughed softly as pedestrians obeyed, as strangers bickered at his whispered words, as he bent human wills like clay. Pleasure surged through him — addictive, intoxicating.
Valen's chest tightened. "No. That's not the point. I'm not here to enjoy control — I'm here to fight the blind, the herd, the rituals. I can't lose myself."
The pull of indulgence battled with his purpose. Chaos was addictive. Obedience was intoxicating. And maintaining the higher goal — the fight against blind faith — would be harder than he thought.
By the end of the week, he leaned back in his chair, mind spinning with possibilities. He had discovered something terrifying and exhilarating: he could bend humans to his will. But only if he kept the world spinning off balance.
He whispered into the quiet room: "I will change everything."
The sigil pulsed beneath his skin, stronger this time, answering back. Valen understood the truth of it: he didn't just want influence. He wanted to challenge the blind obedience that shackled humanity — but the thrill of bending people already tugged at him, a warning that the power could corrupt even his noble intent.
The world would obey.
But only if he kept it alive… and chaotic.
---
That evening, after another day of experiments, Valen returned home, still buzzing with adrenaline. He opened his bedroom door — and froze.
There she was.
Red hair spilling across the pillow, pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light. She lay casually on his bed, one leg draped over the other, her chin resting on her hand. Her eyes met his, sharp and playful, like a predator casually observing a mouse.
Valen took a step back, heart hammering. Something about her energy — calm, confident, unnervingly omniscient — made his chest tighten. She exuded a mix of eerie amusement and lazy omnipotence. She wasn't a threat in the traditional sense, but every instinct screamed that she was more than she seemed.
"So… you've been busy today," she said, voice soft and casual, almost teasing.
Valen's mouth opened, then closed. Words failed him. She wasn't surprised by anything he had done. Not the chaos, not the obedience, not the thrill. She had seen it all.
He swallowed, trying to maintain composure. "Who… who are you?"
She smiled faintly, tilting her head. "Does it matter? You've been… enjoying yourself, haven't you?"
Her gaze pierced him. She didn't need chaos to command attention — she drew it naturally, and he could feel it tugging at his mind.
Valen's hands clenched. The sigil pulsed faintly beneath his skin, almost in rhythm with her calm heartbeat. He realized something chilling: she wasn't just observing. She was testing him.
"Do you enjoy bending people?" she asked, casual but laced with something darker.
Valen's mind spun. The thrill of obedience, the addictive rush, the intoxicating pull of human chaos — it all surged forward. And for the first time, he realized: his battle against blind faith wasn't just an abstract purpose. It was already in danger of being corrupted by his own desires.
He swallowed. "I… I can control it," he muttered, almost to himself.
The girl laughed softly. It was low, amused, and just a little dangerous. "We'll see," she said, leaning back. "We'll see how far you can really go."
Valen's pulse raced. The world outside, the chaos he had nurtured, the obedience he had mastered — it all felt small compared to her presence.
And for the first time, he understood the true challenge ahead: the world was one thing, but her… she was another.
When he comes back from his thoughts,she had already vanished.
The sigil pulsed stronger beneath his skin, and Valen knew: this was only the beginning.
The aroma of curry filled the small dining room. Valen sat at the table, silently poking at his food, his mind still buzzing from the day's experiments. His parents chattered softly about work, bills, and small neighborhood gossip — the kind of background noise he usually tuned out completely.
Then the door swinged open.
A voice, casual, teasing, and entirely too confident, called from the entrance:
"Dinner smells like chaos. Mind if I join?"
Valen's fork froze midair. His parents turned, jaws dropping.
She sauntered in like she owned the place — red hair catching the light, pale skin glowing faintly, eyes sharp and playful. She slid into the empty chair across from Valen, kicking one leg over the chair rail as if it were hers.
"Uh… Valen," his mother stammered, "who is…?"
"I'm Eve," she said, tilting her head lazily at him, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Your girlfriend."
The room froze. Valen's fork clattered onto his plate. His parents blinked, then blinked again, as if trying to process whether they had heard correctly.
"Girlfriend?" his father echoed, voice cracking slightly. "She… she's your girlfriend?"
Valen sputtered, "I-I… I didn't—"
"Details, details," Eve waved him off with a flick of her hand, like interrupting was a trivial inconvenience. "I've been meaning to tell you, but you seemed… distracted."
His mother, recovering first, leaned back with a sigh. "Well… okay. We can work with this." She exchanged a glance with his father. "Valen's… uh, a handful. Always has been. We hope… maybe you can, you know, fix him a little."
Eve chuckled, a low, amused sound that made her look equal parts dangerous and ridiculously at ease. "Fix him? Oh honey, I'm not here to fix him. I'm here to watch him burn the world a little… and maybe keep it interesting."
Valen's father scratched the back of his neck. "Interesting… right. Well, as long as you keep him out of serious trouble, I guess we're okay with this."
Valen's mother tilted her head, smiling faintly. "He's always been a troublemaker. But… maybe you'll help him channel that chaos. A little guidance. For the sake of sanity."
Valen wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Eve leaned back, grinning like she'd just won some invisible prize. "Relax, I'm fun. You'll like me. Maybe I'll even make your boy less boring for once."
Valen groaned silently into his plate. "I… didn't even—"
"You did," Eve said, tapping his arm lightly. "And you'll thank me later."
His parents laughed nervously. They didn't fully understand her, but she was confident, charming… and if she could steer Valen's chaos even slightly, maybe the household wouldn't collapse entirely.
Valen sighed, resigned. Chaos had officially moved to the dinner table.
---
The curry sat mostly untouched in front of Valen as Eve leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, perfectly at ease. His parents exchanged glances, trying to process what had just happened.
"So… Valen, is this… typical?" his mother asked, trying not to laugh, though her tone betrayed amusement.
Valen groaned, stabbing at his rice. "This is not typical. She just… appears out of nowhere."
"Appears? My boy, she's your girlfriend," his father said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really know how to surprise us."
Eve grinned lazily. "I do love surprises. Keeps life interesting. Also, you guys? Not bad for a small, mortal family." She smirked, letting her eyes linger on the parents in a teasing, almost mischievous way that made them flush slightly.
The rest of the dinner passed in chaotic, semi-awkward silence. Valen poked at his food, glaring at Eve every time she laughed or made a casual, sarcastic comment at the table. She, of course, didn't notice—or pretended not to.
After the plates were cleared, they all settled in the living room. Eve leaned back on the couch, folding her arms behind her head like she owned the place.
"So," she said casually, "how's the little genius doing these days? Still causing… general havoc?"
Valen bristled. "Little genius? I—"
"Hmm. I think he's brilliant," his mother interrupted, smiling warmly. "And, well… if you can handle him, Eve, you might just be the best thing for him."
His father chuckled. "Yeah. Valen's always been… complicated. But you… you seem fun. Maybe you can help him channel that… chaos, a little."
Eve winked at them. "Oh, I'll do more than channel it. But don't worry, I'm fair." Her grin widened. "Mostly."
Valen squirmed in his chair, arms crossed, cheeks hot. He was the only one not laughing, not enjoying this bizarre display. Eve's casual dominance, the way she charmed his parents, the sheer audacity of calling herself his girlfriend—it was all infuriatingly perfect.
Eventually, Eve stood, stretching lazily. "Well, I should be going. Can't stay forever. Chaos isn't self-sustaining; someone has to maintain it."
She gave a casual bow to his parents. "Goodbye! Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on your boy."
Then, in one fluid motion, she turned to Valen. Before he could react, she kissed him lightly on the lips—right there, in front of his parents—then stepped back, smirking.
Valen froze, eyes wide. His parents blinked, then slowly smiled. His mother shook her head, still laughing. "Well… she's certainly confident."
His father chuckled. "I like her. Maybe she'll finally give him some… balance. Or at least entertain us for a while."
Valen glared at the floor, arms crossed, muttering under his breath. "I… did not agree to this…"
Eve waved casually from the door. "Don't worry, genius. I'll be back." Then she was gone, leaving a faint, lingering aura of amusement and mischief behind her.
The family sat in stunned silence for a moment, then laughter slowly filled the room. Valen remained slouched, scowling, utterly awkward and annoyed, while the rest of the family started talking about Eve as if she were suddenly part of the household.
And for the first time that day, Valen realized something: the world was full of chaos… and Eve was chaos personified.