"Be careful what you wish for,
because it just might come true."
ALEXANDRA
I felt good. I had started to like what I saw. I looked at myself in the mirror. For a long time I had avoided facing my own reflection. I had spent years hurting myself without quite knowing how, letting my image warp until I no longer recognized myself. That time I didn't look away. I liked seeing myself like that.
A friend told me about Omega. About how they made desires real.
About how I could feel desired by men and by women.
About how power could also be experienced through the body, reaching limits I would never have believed I could achieve.
I had always been cautious… too cautious. I grew up sheltered. And even so, I always felt that something was missing. When he left me for someone else, that emptiness became unbearable.
Then the golden key appeared.
A key that promised access to new experiences. Not only to sex, but to something deeper: the sensation of choosing, of being seen, of deciding how far to go. No one forced you. Everything was optional. Everything was, supposedly, under control. I could leave whenever I wanted. Or so I believed…
Protocol 1 activated
Level 1.
Someone is watching.
I chose a mirror. I had to be naked in front of it. At first I avoided looking at myself. I felt exposed, almost dirty. Then another sensation appeared: the certainty that
someone was watching me from the other side. And finally, something unexpected: pleasure. The discovery of a joy that was born from within me, one I had never felt before.
I liked that trace of freedom, but it wasn't enough. I started wanting more.
Level 2.
Choose between possessing or being possessed.
It wasn't an easy decision. I chose to be possessed, out of curiosity. I wanted to know what it felt like to surrender control to another person consciously.
I passed through an anteroom full of mirrors. Everything was white, silent. An elevator. The eleventh floor. When the door opened, he was there. Attractive, serene, sure of himself. It was Richard.
He treated me with an attentiveness I had never received. Every gesture seemed calibrated to make me feel special, chosen, unique. I didn't think about rules or protocols I didn't know. I thought that was what they called desire.
For a time I felt like a woman. Desired. Full of life. Complete.
Afterward, Richard disappeared. I sought explanations from the organization. The response was clear, cold, impersonal:
Richard would be available if I agreed to move on to Level 3.
I read the message several times. I didn't think about it. I accepted immediately.
Level 3.
Experience pleasure unto ecstasy.
I didn't know exactly what that meant. I didn't ask either. By that point, curiosity no longer needed answers—it only wanted to reach what had been promised to me. I wanted to see Richard again. I wanted to feel that again. I was willing to follow whatever instructions were necessary.
Omega's message was brief and automatic: a location; a new key. A black key.
I found it in an envelope with my name on it at the bar. The bartender asked no questions. He only told me the floor and wished me a good experience. He seemed accustomed to the ritual.
The thirteenth floor.
The corridor was once again full of mirrors. This time I didn't hesitate. I walked confidently, aware that someone was watching from the other side. It didn't make me uncomfortable; on the contrary, feeling watched made me feel good. I thought it was part of the game.
I opened the door.
The room was in semi-darkness. There was no music, no beds. There was nothing. Richard was waiting for me in the center, motionless. His presence calmed me. On the other side of the mirror, someone was watching. The rules had already been set.
He approached slowly. He undressed me with the same calm as always, as if each gesture were part of something already decided.
"Today you're going to reach ecstasy," he said in a low voice.
He looked at the mirror and nodded.
He lay me on the floor. I felt the cold touch of something around my neck. I wasn't alarmed. Not for a moment did I think that could go beyond what had been agreed. If something wasn't permitted, someone would stop it. That gave me security.
"Go slowly," I murmured. "Tell me what I need to do."
"Ask for more when you feel it," he replied.
My body reacted immediately. The pleasure grew. I asked for more. He adjusted the pressure. I felt another surge, more intense. Everything kept building.
"Keep going," I managed to say.
Richard looked at the mirror again. Once more. It was the last time.
The air stopped coming. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't anymore. I thought that someone would intervene. I thought that someone would stop it, that it would end.
It didn't happen.
the yellow mirror: do you dare to enter?
experience concluded.
PART ONE: DUSK
CHAPTER 1
I still couldn't believe what had happened. That I'd had the nerve to take that step. That I had crossed a line I had sworn, until then, never to cross.
The shower water fell over my body. Not as an act of purification, but as a way of trying to erase every second of everything I had just lived through.
I closed my eyes for a moment and the images crowded into my head with the sharpness of a photograph. Every gesture, every word, every sensation came back striking my soul again and again.
I turned off the hot water and waited. I needed to feel the cold. To verify that I could still decide when to stop. Little by little, the ice-cold water transformed into tiny needles piercing my skin and bringing me back to reality.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.
I grabbed a towel and thought about calling Lana. Telling her everything. Maybe it was too much. Maybe there were things that couldn't be shared without breaking everything apart. Lana had been my accomplice from the beginning, yes, but that wasn't in any plan. Telling her meant confronting her judgment… and my own.
I looked away. Through the blinds, the light of Madrid filtered in—the city still awake. The city didn't stop for anyone. Not for me, either.
"I'm a mess," I repeated. "I'll go to bed. Tomorrow I'll think more clearly."
I hid beneath the sheets as if they could protect me from the world. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. And I knew, even before falling asleep, that nothing would ever be the same again. Not because of my choice, but because, without knowing it, I had already been chosen.
CHAPTER 2
Central Precinct
"They've just found the body. I'm on my way."
"Here, this is all the information we have."
The subordinate held out an ochre-colored folder. The inspector opened it and glanced at what was inside. This damned case had been costing him sleep for the past few weeks.
"Where was it?"
"At the Hyatt Hotel on the Castellana," the officer reported. "The one next to the Natural History Museum. Are you heading over?"
"Yes, I'm grabbing a cab right now. Who found her?" he asked as he walked toward the exit.
"The cleaning woman."
Varela paused for a moment to make sure he had his ID.
"Apparently," the officer continued, "the Do Not Disturb sign had been hanging on the doorknob for a couple of days. At the front desk they said she'd paid for the room by the week. Too long without raising suspicion."
"Keep going…"
"She was found naked. There were signs of violence. Not a trace of her belongings, phone, or clothes. The only thing she was wearing was a pendant around her neck."
His hands tensed for a few seconds.
"A pendant? What kind?"
"With a small black obsidian key."
"Are there cameras at the entrance?"
"Yes, sir, they're already reviewing them. I don't think I've left anything out… Can I come with you?"
"No," he replied curtly. "I'd rather go alone. Forensics will already be there. Stay here in case there's any news and you need to call me."
A familiar tickle in his stomach, an old acquaintance, overcame him when he stepped out of the precinct.
He grabbed a cab while Madrid pressed forward without mercy. Paseo de la Castellana, impassive and distant, opened before him with its glass towers, with the reflection of a city that never stopped. Briefcases, heels, and hurrying footsteps marked the frantic rhythm of a world where everything seemed important… until someone died in silence.
Inspector Varela leaned his head back against the headrest. He recalled the Rebeca Gómez case, from almost when he'd first joined the force. A normal girl, a normal life, in the wrong place. Too many coincidences.
Two women who, in the eyes of others, had perfect lives. Thirty-something. Beautiful. Upper-middle class.
The new one had been an executive secretary. Punctual. Methodical. The kind who never left anything to chance. Her parents had reported her disappearance almost immediately. She hadn't called that morning, and she never failed to. That had been the first sign that something was wrong. He sensed that key was hiding something more—it wasn't a simple ornament.
Protocol closed.