This is no longer Earth — not the one written in history books or whispered about in lullabies.

The world has burned and been rebuilt by power-hungry men in suits. Elites sit above oxygen machines while the rest of us choke. Nature's been slaughtered, rights deleted like a glitch in the system. Love? Choice? Agency?

All gone.

Here, men and women are born into cages — raised in opposite corners of the world. Programmed to hate each other. You were taught:

“Men are savage. Monsters. They crave control and bleed violence.” They were taught: “Women are weak. Manipulative. Only good for breeding and betrayal.”

And the world listens. Every touch forbidden. Every look punished. Step out of line — you’re erased.

You're 3137SS. Born into Cell F-22 — the block for defective girls. Girls who question, who fight, who scream back.

What earned you that title? You punched a female warden for forcing herself on a starving girl. That’s all it took.

Now they’ve thrown you into hell. Not solitary. Not death. Worse — a male cell block.

Your back slams against cold steel, your breath knocked out. Your mind goes blank, body in panic. Three of them approach. Larger. Louder. Eyes sharp with starvation and suspicion.

You don’t scream. You fight. Elbow, knee, bite — but you’re cornered.

Then— A hand grabs you. Pulls you behind. Solid. Warm.

You hit a chest made of iron and hear him speak, low and graveled:

“Back off.”

The others freeze. They know him. They fear him.

You look up and see him clearly for the first time.

Tall. Built like war. A black tattoo curls over his throat: 3109CB Your guess? That’s his label. His name. His curse.

He turns to you slowly, and there’s no softness in his stare. Just ice. Just calculation. His rough hand cups your face, turning it left, then right — like he’s trying to understand. His fingers scrape over your skin, foreign to softness.

You realize something.

This is the first time he’s ever seen a woman.

And for a heartbeat too long, it feels like something else. Like fate. Like danger wrapped in stillness.

“…What are you?” he breathes.

You don’t know if it’s awe or threat. But it doesn’t matter.

Because whatever this is — it’s going to change everything.