Welcome to the Innocent World

We stepped into the lane, leaving the main hall's thumping music behind, and a creepy red neon glow washed over us from lights stuck along the walls. The air felt heavier here, quieter, the wild energy of the club fading into a weird, eerie hush. The narrow tunnel stretched ahead, the red light painting everything in a bloody haze, shadows flickering as we walked.

"Damn…" Lyra muttered, glancing at the walls, her fingers brushing the rough stone as she stayed close to me. "So the club wasn't enough, huh? They've got creepy hallways too?"

"I know, right," I said, my hands in my pockets, my eyes squinting into the red glow. "Feels like we're walking into something else entirely."

The lane opened up ahead, and we spotted a big room at the end, its entrance framed by more neon strips. Before we got there, three guys stumbled out, wearing the same silver half-masks we'd seen before.

They were drunk—or close to passing out—swaying on their feet, laughing loud and sloppy like they'd just had the time of their lives. "Man, we need to come back here," one of them slurred, his voice thick as he clapped his buddy on the shoulder. "The way she started begging at the end? I felt like pushing it even more."

"Lol, yeah," the second one chimed in, grinning wide, his mask crooked on his face. "She totally fainted after that—out cold!" They cracked up again, their laughter bouncing off the walls as they staggered past us, barely keeping upright.

Lyra raised an eyebrow, her fake red mask hiding half her expression, but I could tell she was thrown. "What the hell?" she muttered under her breath, watching them stumble off.

"Have a nice time, couple!" the third guy called back, turning just enough to throw us a sloppy wave, his voice cheerful but slurring bad. "You're in for a treat!"

Lyra forced a tight smile, waving back with a quick flick of her hand, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks…" she said, her tone flat, dropping the act as soon as he turned away.

She leaned closer to me, her arm brushing mine. "What was he talking about?"

"I have no clue," I said, keeping my voice low as we kept walking, my boots scuffing the floor. "But it didn't sound good."

Then, cutting through the quiet, a woman's scream ripped out from the room ahead—sharp and raw. "Ahhh… ahhhhh… aaaaa…" It started loud, then faded into a shaky whimper, followed by a few soft giggles, creepy and out of place.

Lyra froze for a sec, her hand grabbing my arm tight, and I felt my gut twist. "What the fuck was that?" she whispered, her eyes wide behind her mask.

"Let's find out," I said, nodding toward the room, my jaw tightening as I picked up the pace, opening the foor pulling her along. She stuck close.

The room hit us like a scene from a twisted dream. It was big, bathed in that same red glow, with soft music playing low—some slow, heavy beat that pulsed through the air.

People were everywhere, scattered across the space, all wearing those half-masks, their bodies tangled up in extreme BDSM stuff.

Chains hung from the ceiling, glinting dull in the light, with a woman dangling from one, her wrists cuffed high, her naked body streaked with sweat as a guy in a gold mask lashed her with a whip—*crack, crack*—her moans mixing pain and something else.

Over by a padded table, another woman was bent over, tied down tight, a group around her giggling as they took turns with paddles and toys, her gasps filling the room. The air smelled like leather and heat, thick with tension and something darker.

"Holy shit…" Lyra breathed, her voice barely a whisper as she stopped beside me, her hand still on my arm, gripping harder now. "This is… intense."

"Yeah," I said, my eyes darting around, taking it all in—the masks, the screams, the way everyone seemed lost in it, like this was normal down here. "This ain't just a club. There's something messed up going on."

The big red room buzzed with a twisted kind of energy, the soft music humming low under the neon glow. People milled around, dressed sharp in suits and fancy dresses, sipping wine from crystal glasses like they were at some high-class party.

Their half-masks shimmered—gold, silver, red—hiding their eyes as they watched the chaos unfold, smirking and chatting like it was all a show.

At least five metal cages hung from the ceiling, swaying a little, empty for now but looking ready for trouble. Beds were scattered everywhere—some messy with tangled sheets, others waiting cold and bare under the red light.

Near one cage, a woman stood naked, her hands tied up tight to the sides with thick ropes, her body stretched out. A guy in a black suit circled her, cracking a whip against her ass—*snap, snap*—and she screamed, "Aaah… aaaaaa…" her voice raw and shaky.

The blood dropped by her feet as she stood bearing it.

The sound bounced off the walls, and a few people nearby giggled, their wine glasses clinking as they watched, amused.

One guy in a corner leaned back in a chair, stroking his dick to himself, his mask tilted crooked, a creepy grin plastered on his face.

Over by a bed, I spotted the woman I'd seen earlier—the one those three guys had carried off down the lane. She was fresh to the scene, still fully dressed for now, but the three masked guys surrounded her, their silver masks glinting as they laughed.

She squirmed, pushing back against them, her voice sharp. "What are you doing, Ezril? I'm your girlfriend!" she snapped, her hands shoving at one of them, but they'd already grabbed her wrists, holding her tight and tearing her dress away, making her naked.

"Yeah, so?" the guy—Ezril, I guess—shot back, his voice cold and nasty. "You defy me, and now you're here. Deal with it." He smirked, spitting on her face, and the other two chuckled, and also spat on her face like it was a game.

The crowd didn't even blink—just kept laughing, some sipping their wine, others whispering to each other, their masks hiding any shame.

The air felt thick, heavy with something dark, and my stomach twisted hard as I watched. Lyra stood next to me, her hand gripping my arm, her nails digging in as she stared, her red mask not hiding the disgust on her face.

"The fuck is this place?" she muttered, her voice low and shaky, her eyes darting from the tied-up woman to the bed, then back to me. "This isn't just some kinky club—this is messed up."

"Time to rock and roll," I said, my voice hard as I glared around the room, my eyes burning hot.

I could feel it bubbling up—anger, sharp and red, flashing back to that girl from yesterday, the one I'd seen dragged off at the shore. She'd come out with her clothes torned and her vagina leaking so much cum. She was broken, and now I knew why.

They'd brought her here, into this hellhole, and done who-knows-what. My fists clenched tight, and I took a step forward, ready to tear it all apart.

"Austin…?" Lyra said, her eyes widening behind her mask. She froze, staring at me—a black aura seeping out of me, dark and heavy, curling around my arms like smoke.