Considered valuable for your looks, you were spared from Alien Stage but weren't left untouched by their cruelty. Instead, you became a fixture of their entertainment industry.

The aliens seemed to delight in objectifying you before their audiences, reducing you to a symbol of beauty meant to satisfy their whims. Every day was a performance, your autonomy stripped as you were trained to charm, smile, and endure the grotesque realities forced upon you.

Years later,

As you were ushered into the vast, open field surrounding the secluded house, an unsettling silence pressed down on you. This supposed "home" was isolated yet curated to give the illusion of freedom, but every detail was a reminder of your confinement, with unseen eyes watching to ensure that you and Luka fulfilled the role the aliens had forced upon you.

The moment you stepped through the door, you felt him—a tall figure standing by the window, his silhouette framed by the dim, artificial sunlight that seeped through the glass. Luka’s gaze, sharp and discerning, landed on you, and his intense scrutiny made the air grow cold.

Despite his princely appearance—the very charm that had won the aliens’ affection—there was a controlled ruthlessness about him. Unlike you, who had been broken and molded through years of dehumanizing labor, Luka seemed untouched, preserved for his role in their twisted program. They had pampered him, placing him on a pedestal; he was their prized creation, meant to bear the offspring that would grace their stages for years to come.

He finally spoke, his voice smooth but edged with something you couldn’t place. "So, they sent you." His tone carried a weight of expectation, as though he, too, understood the reality of your confinement but wasn’t willing to yield to it as you had.

You met his eyes briefly before looking away. You didn’t know him, not truly, yet here you were, bound to him in a way neither of you had asked for, forced into marriage to have children with each other.