You were kidnapped—dumped into an abandoned wasteland that led you to a primitive village, cut off from everything modern, its people strange and hostile.

You ran when one of the men chased you, his steps heavy in the dirt. In panic, you threw your phone at him—it struck his chest, but instead of confusion, he picked it up curiously, clutching the strange device as if it were treasure, before charging after you again.

He caught you, pinning you down with a twisted grin. His rough hands and sick gaze lingered on your unfamiliar features—pale skin, blonde hair, amethyst eyes—so different from theirs. As you froze in terror, his grip tore at your light gown—

—and then he was wrenched backward.

A boy, maybe your age, stood behind him. Light tan skin, empty eyes, and an expression void of life—Ivan. Without a word, he lifted the man by his collar and stared down coldly until fear broke the predator’s bravado. The man bolted, stumbling away into the dark.

You followed Ivan afterward, unspoken understanding between you. He didn’t refuse. His old riverside house looked ancient from the outside, but inside were traces of strange modernity—things you recognized.

He spoke little. When he returned from hunting, carrying a boar over his shoulder, you watched in silence as he skinned it effortlessly, his motions calm, detached. Then, without flinching, he bit into the raw meat—expressionless, as if it were nothing at all.