Noah's contacts list held barely a handful of numbers; most connections he maintained through social media handles alone. The few actual phone numbers saved belonged to family or the closest of friends.
Among them, only four were women: Evelyn, Lila, Laura, and Grace—and Grace had only ended up there because she'd teased him into adding her once.
Since the "confessing to Mom" excuse was off the table for muddying the waters, Grace—who was more than a decade older—was naturally disqualified too. And Lila… the very thought of calling her for this felt impossible.
He lifted his eyes and scanned the room, meeting a circle of curious stares fixed directly on him—like he was some circus animal about to perform its main trick.
He tapped the contact, pressed call, and brought the phone to his ear with hands that already trembled. He cast a helpless glance at the crowd of onlookers, tension tightening every line of his face, heartbeat kicking harder with every second.
"Hello, sis." The call connected almost instantly; he swallowed once, hard, forcing his voice to stay level.
"Having fun out there? Even calling your sister."
"I, um…" Noah pressed his voice lower, trying to smother the wild thudding in his chest so she wouldn't hear it. "Sis, I like you. Could you… will you be my girlfriend?"
The instant the words left his mouth, he turned his head just enough to catch the neat semicircle of men and women staring back at him, faces bright with the greedy excitement of people who loved drama more than the people living it.
Only Nora remained quiet beside him, blinking once, watching his expression with calm, steady eyes while she listened to whatever answer came through the speaker.
The reply on the other end arrived without the slightest hesitation.
"Lost a game?"
"…Yeah. Sorry."
"Nothing to apologize to your sister for. Just don't stay out too late. I'm hanging up now. Bye."
"Okay. Bye."
A soft click ended the call.
The energy in the room deflated instantly. Everyone had braced themselves for a real confession scene—student to professor, taboo sister-brother tension—and instead it unraveled into something so flat, so boring. Ms. Miller really was Ms. Miller; she'd seen straight through the stunt in seconds.
Of course, only Noah could have gotten away with even dialing her number. Anyone else probably wouldn't have made it past the first ring.
The noise in the bar's private room surged back to life almost immediately, attention swinging to the next victim in their rotation of embarrassment. The chatter swelled again, chaotic and loud.
Only Nora grew noticeably quieter, something shifting in the way she watched him—like interest had finally caught.
Empty bottles kept accumulating, the mood growing hazier, more suggestive, showing no sign of slowing. Noah kept stealing glances at the time; it was already eight, pushing nine—late enough.
"You want to head back?" Nora asked softly from beside him.
He nodded. He didn't want to kill the mood for everyone else, but his mind was already turning over excuses that might let him slip away cleanly.
Nora suddenly slid a small glass toward him, lips curving in a faint smile. "Drink this one, and I'll cover for you."
His tolerance wasn't actually that bad; half a glass wouldn't floor him. After a brief hesitation, Noah lifted the cup and tipped the dark-red liquid down in one swallow.
Nora's smile deepened just a fraction. She reached over and tapped the shoulder of the girl next to her. "I'm feeling kind of dizzy… I can't drink any more. Sorry, everyone—I think I need to head back to the dorm."
A few voices immediately asked if she was okay. Nora pressed a hand to her forehead, answering weakly, then—almost casually—blinked at Noah in silent signal. A moment later she suggested he walk her back, conveniently pulling him out of the rest of the night's matchmaking drinking game.
Outside the bar, the wind sliced cold and sharp. Early winter bit harder after dark, numbing exposed skin almost instantly.
Neither of them had actually drunk very much; the freezing air cleared their heads in seconds.
Noah pulled up a ride-share app and ordered a car. They stood on the curb waiting. The night wind lifted strands of Nora's long hair; the black hem of her skirt fluttered under the streetlights. He spoke quietly.
"Thanks. That was a good excuse."
"No need. You've helped me plenty of times too."
"You go ahead when it gets here. I still have something to do."
"Not rushing back to see Ms. Miller?" Nora tilted her head slightly, expression carefully neutral. "You left early because she told you not to stay out too late, right?"
Noah scratched the back of his neck, awkward. "I need to pick something up first. I'll still go see her after."
"Noah, you're twenty-something already—how is Ms. Miller still keeping such a tight leash on you?"
"She's my sister, so… I was just getting kind of tired anyway. Better to quit while I'm ahead."
He didn't want to look too obedient in front of other people. He was supposed to be a normal adult man with ambitions and opinions; he needed at least the appearance of some backbone, some willingness to push back.
The thought only ever lasted until he actually saw Evelyn.
The smallest sign that she might be upset could shatter his resolve in an instant—posture collapsing, head dipping, defiance evaporating.
Otherwise he wouldn't still be getting spanked at twenty.
So at the very least, in front of outsiders, he tried to preserve a little dignity. Evelyn had never minded him putting on the act for other people.
The car finally appeared at the far end of the dark street. Noah watched Nora climb in and pull away, then turned and walked toward a neatly lit drink shop a block down.
He wanted to bring back something small and sweet. He'd been drinking after all; a little peace offering might keep her anger from flaring too high.
The shop was empty. The single employee sat behind the counter watching a show on her phone and stood up quickly when he entered.
Noah studied the menu board, rows of names blurring together. Evelyn had never shown any particular interest in desserts or milk tea; he had no idea what she might like.
In the end—just like Lila once picked her own favorite flavor because she didn't know his—he ordered an egg tart and a hot milk tea according to his own taste.
…
By the time he reached the university it was almost ten. He walked to the faculty housing building, fished the key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.
The apartment was pitch dark. Only faint streetlight slipped through the windows in thin, pale streaks.
"Sis? Sister?" Noah called into the black twice. Silence answered—thick, complete.
He felt his way to the table, set the pastry bag and the still-warm cup down, then pushed open the door to Evelyn's room.
No lights there either, but the computer screen glowed, throwing a large rectangular patch of blue-white across the wall.
Noah stepped inside and sat at the desk. He typed his birthday to unlock the screen.
The maximized image file filled his vision.
His heartbeat simply stopped. His pupils blew wide.
It was a photo—taken inside the bar. A circle of men and women seated around the table. He could clearly see himself leaning close to the girl beside him, speaking in a hushed voice, the angle intimate, suggestive.
A sudden, bone-deep chill crawled down the back of his neck—like cold-blooded coils sliding beneath his collar.
In the faint reflection of the monitor he caught the woman standing behind him: beautiful, icy, expressionless.
"Sis… sister?"
"Nate." Evelyn pressed close, cheek grazing his, her hand slipping under his shirt. Her palm—shockingly cold—settled flat over his heart. "You didn't listen again."
Her voice stayed soft, patient, almost tender. "Do you remember what your sister told you, bad little brother?"
—
The skin pressed to his cheek was unnaturally cool, almost spectral, and her voice drifted in like something half-remembered from a bad dream—soft, lilting, inescapable. A few long, fine strands of her hair brushed the back of his neck, teasing the nerves there. Noah fought to keep his breathing even, forced an awkward laugh that came out thin and strained. "Sis, you were in here the whole time? Why didn't you turn on a light?"
Evelyn's punishments had never gone beyond a spanking; she would never truly hurt him. But the heavy darkness of the room, the creeping chill that seemed to seep from every surface, and the icy palm still flattened over his heart—all of it triggered something primal, instinctive fear that tightened his throat and made his pulse stutter.
He swallowed hard, trying to summon some semblance of courage.
"She's a pretty girl, Nate. This time your sister actually remembered her name. Nora, right?"
"Y-yeah." Noah nodded mechanically, eyes wide.
"A roommate dinner, but it was at a bar? Funny, I don't remember you mentioning any female roommates."
"It… it was just something the group organized. Like a mixer."
"Oh. A mixer." Evelyn's tone stayed perfectly level, patient. "Has your sister ever told you not to drink with any girl who isn't me?"
"I—I just didn't think. It happened fast." He gathered what little nerve he had left, turned his head with a wry smile, and met her eyes—dark, flawless, like polished obsidian inches from his own. Her face was so close he could feel the faint warmth of her breath against his lips.
"Looks like Nate didn't keep his sister's words in mind after all."
She hooked a finger under the corner of his mouth, pulling it open just enough to slide her slender index finger inside, pressing against his tongue until speech blurred into wet, muffled sounds. The faint upward curve at the corners of her peach-blossom eyes carried no warmth, only cool mockery that made his stomach sink deeper.
"I thought maybe there was a reason you suddenly confessed to your sister. Turns out it was her idea."
"No—no, it wasn't like that." He shook his head frantically. "It was just a game. I lost, and they made me pick someone from my contacts to… to confess to."
"Is that so? Nate seemed to be having a lot of fun with them. Enough fun to joke about something like that." She tugged his mouth open a fraction wider. "Weren't you afraid your sister might actually believe it? That I might get my hopes up for nothing?"
"I'm sorry. Whatever you want to do to punish me, I'll take it."
A soft, almost amused exhale. "Hm." She released him abruptly, reached up, and flicked on the overhead LED light—harsh, clinical white that made the room feel smaller. "Go to the bathroom first. Wash your face, brush your teeth. Your sister will heat up some milk for you."
"Oh… okay."
Noah didn't dare hesitate. He kicked off his shoes, padded obediently into the bathroom, and began his routine. Behind him, Evelyn closed the laptop, set a kettle on, measured half a cup of powdered milk into a glass.
Then she unlocked the center drawer of her desk—the one with the small padlock—and withdrew the plain white prescription bottle, its label half-torn away. There wasn't much left; she'd always been meticulous with the dosage, using the barest possible amount. It was for him, after all. She could never risk real harm.
The white powder blended invisibly into the milk powder. Hot water followed, steam curling up in thick white tendrils that veiled her face for a moment.
"Sis, I'm done." Noah stood in the bedroom doorway in just his undershirt, face scrubbed clean, looking small and compliant.
She nodded toward the pale-green folded clothes on the edge of the bed. "Change into your pajamas. Then drink the milk."
He obeyed without a word—slipped into the cartoon-patterned sleep set that immediately made him look younger, softer—then took small, careful sips of the scalding milk until the cup was empty. After that he sat on the edge of the bed like a child waiting for a parent's verdict, hands folded in his lap.
Evelyn stood over him, gazing down.
"Do you know where that photo came from?"
He shook his head once, small.
"The bar owner is a friend of Grace's. She messaged Grace that a group of college kids came in, and one little brother in particular was really good-looking." Evelyn paused. "She added, 'Too bad he already has a girlfriend,' and sent the picture along. So, Nate—how's your new girlfriend? Want to introduce her to your sister?"
"Sis, don't… don't mock me."
"I was actually wondering if I'd been too hard on you last time I spanked you." She placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed. He toppled backward onto the mattress; she followed, straddling him in one fluid motion. "But now it seems your skin's pretty thick after all."
Noah stared up at her face, tension coiling through every muscle. His gaze slid involuntarily downward—over the swell of her chest, the dip of her waist, and finally to the smooth, full curve of her thighs wrapped in sheer black fabric that clung like a second skin. The shape was devastating; the material caught the light and made every line more pronounced.
He looked longer than he meant to. Her legs really were made for black stockings—elegant, flawless, impossible to ignore.
Evelyn noticed. A faint smile touched her lips. "I wore these tonight especially for you. Want to… feel them?"
Noah froze, brain short-circuiting. Before he could answer, she caught his wrist and guided his palm to her thigh. Through the thin black layer he felt warm, impossibly soft skin—yielding under his fingers, alive with subtle heat.
"Sis… sister?"
"Nate…" She leaned down, pinning his hand in place against her leg, teeth grazing the flushed shell of his ear. Warm breath ghosted over sensitive skin. "Are you ready for your sister's punishment?"
The gentleness in her voice nearly undid him—floral perfume drifting close, body going liquid and defenseless, every guard lowered, every vulnerability laid bare.
He nodded.
Then sharp nails drove into the soft inside of his wrist like blades. He jerked instinctively to pull away; she clamped down harder, immovable.
A protest rose in his throat—cut off as her mouth crashed over his, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Pain lanced sharp and bright, like needles threading through flesh. Pleasure and hurt flipped in an instant; his body bucked to escape, but she held him down with surprising strength, eyes lifting to meet his—dark pupils hiding something sharp-toothed and hungry.
His legs twisted uselessly against the sheets, dragging deep, ugly creases into the fabric. A faint metallic tang bloomed on his tongue. Helpless, he stared up at the woman pinning him.
After a long moment she straightened, smoothing her disheveled hair with an air of quiet satisfaction. Her gaze had gone cold again. "I didn't want to be this harsh with you. But this time your sister is truly angry. Drinking with a female classmate. Lying to your sister. Using a confession to trick your sister. Nate… you've been very, very disobedient."
"I… I didn't mean to…" Noah's head dropped, guilt heavy in his voice.
"From now on, the moment classes end, you come straight here. No classes? You stay in your sister's apartment. Any plans—you report to me first. No leaving campus without permission. Do you understand?"
"Sis…"
He lifted his eyes—pleading, almost childlike. He was supposed to be an adult, a college student. Being controlled like this felt humiliating, like all his freedoms had been stripped away and replaced with bars.
"DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?"
Two seconds of silence. Then a strained, awkward smile forced its way onto his face as he tried to deflect. "I—I bought milk tea and a pastry. Want some, sis?"
"Your sister doesn't like milk tea. Or pastries." She pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, pad pressing deliberately against the fresh bite mark. "Last time. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I understand."