Chapter 2: Legendary Incident
People of Old Marmara witnessed a sight that would be etched in memory for ages. A group of women, wrapped only in towels, marched through the streets with a fierce pace. Their heads bowed, not in calm but in a mix of shame and simmering anger that was clear for anyone who dared to make eye contact.
Passersby stopped and stared, their minds swirling with questions. Why were these women, known to many, parading in such a state, as if they'd just stepped out from a bath? No one dared to voice these questions aloud, though, sensing the storm of emotions that engulfed them.
The towels did little more than cover the private parts, leaving much of their skin exposed to the gaze of the people. It was a moment of vulnerability and raw emotion laid bare for all of onlookers to see.
They found the one who was responsible for the humiliation they are going through, Sakar. They wanted to beat the shit out of him but he was nowhere to be found.
Meanwhile, Sakar made it to the grand entrance of Chicken Head Academy. Old Marmara was home to two academies, Chicken Head and Dragon Tail, each renowned in its own right.
He found the door shut tight.
"Heyy! Can someone open the door?" he called out, but only silence greeted him.
"HEYYYY!" he yelled louder this time, but still nothing. Out of patience, Sakar gave the door a frustrated kick, raising his voice as loud as he could, hoping someone would hear him.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" Sakar shouted once more, his voice echoing off the academy walls. He paused his assault on the door as the sound of footsteps approached from the other side. A man cracked the door open just enough to peer out. He was tanned, with a gray beard and hair, his physique suggesting a lifetime of discipline—like a seasoned warrior.
"What do you want, kid?" the man asked gruffly.
"I'm a student here. I need to get in," Sakar replied, trying to peer past the man into the academy.
"Show me your student identification card," the man demanded.
"I don't have a card yet; I'm supposed to register today," Sakar explained, his frustration growing.
"I can't let you in without a student ID," the man said firmly.
"Can you please talk to Miss Sorella about me? She knows me; she's expecting me," Sakar pleaded.
"Go speak to her yourself; she's not here today," the man responded curtly.
"Where is she then?" Sakar asked, hoping for some direction.
"Don't know," the man replied, unmoved.
"Where does she live?" Sakar tried again.
"We don't share information about our employees, even if they are already famous," the man stated plainly.
"Uncle, please, I don't have anywhere to stay tonight. I need to get into the school," Sakar's voice softened, showing his desperation.
"It's not 'uncle'; it's 'sir'. Now go away," the man corrected him sternly before shutting the door, closing the narrow view Sakar had into Chicken Head Academy.
Sakar sat on the cold ground, his mind racing. He had nowhere to go, and he needed to find Miss Sorella. Determination set in, and he stood, dusting himself off. He decided to head to the city center in hope of finding Miss Sorella.
The city center was bustling with activity, filled with a marketplace that stretched across a wide square. Stalls of all sorts lined the area, selling everything from basic bread to magical rings. The variety of goods created a vibrant atmosphere.
Sakar faced an unexpected dilemma—he had completely forgotten what Miss Sorella looked like. All he could recall was the overwhelming impression of her attractiveness. He had seen her only once during her visit to the orphanage, and for some reason, he couldn't bring her face to mind, no matter how hard he tried. It puzzled him; how could he forget someone he found so strikingly beautiful and sexy? It contradicted everything he knew about his own memory, especially when it came to things or people that caught his interest.
He tried to remember that day at the orphanage, focusing on any detail he could grasp. Then, a realization struck him: he had seen her by pure chance. Oddly enough, his 'sexar'—the sense that usually alerted him to the presence of something or someone attractive—had not given him any signal. This was unusual, as his ability had never failed him before. The fact that it hadn't reacted to Miss Sorella's presence was as mystifying as his inability to remember her face, leaving him to wonder about the nature of his Sexar.
"So she used some sort of sorcery." Sakar muttered to himself, convinced that Miss Sorella must have employed magic to obscure her appearance from his memory. As he roamed through the bustling market, pondering over this possibility, his attention was drawn to a herb stall. Most of the herbs were priced reasonably, ranging from 1 to 10 coins, but there was one that stood out starkly due to its exorbitant cost. Labeled as 'spirit herb,' it was tagged at 10,000 coins—an astronomical price compared to the others.
Curious about why this particular herb was so expensive, Sakar approached the stall owner. "Why does this herb cost so much?" he inquired.
"Don't you know what it is?" the stall owner asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"It says 'spirit herb,' what is it good for?" Sakar persisted, genuinely curious about the herb's steep price.
"Brew a tea with a fragment of it and go for it!" the vendor replied cryptically.
"Go for what?" Sakar was more puzzled than before.
The stall owner gave Sakar a knowing look and winked, suggesting it was something unsaid but understood.
"I still didn't understand!" Sakar exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice.
The man sighed, realizing he needed to be more explicit. "If burned, it gives the ability to connect with your contracted spirit. But that's not the main reason it's so expensive."
"What is it? Tell me!" Sakar pressed, eager for a clear answer.
"It gives sexual power if brewed and consumed," the stall owner finally revealed.
"Ohhh, I get it now." Sakar nodded, finally understanding the herb's dual appeal. He then shifted topics abruptly, "So, where does Miss Sorella live?"
"In the longest apartment," the man replied almost automatically.
He paused, a confused expression crossing his face. "Why did you ask a random question? Why did I answer?" The man seemed to question his own behavior, as if he'd been compelled to respond.
When he turned back to look at where Sakar had been standing, the boy was already gone, back into the crowd of the market.
Sakar scanned the skyline, searching for the longest apartment as described by the herb stall owner. Soon enough, he spotted a building that stood out from the rest, its length clearly surpassing any other structure in the area. It was distinct and easy to distinguish, even from a distance.
As he made his way toward the apartment, Sakar's thoughts wandered back to the spirit herb and its peculiar properties. The idea that it could enhance sexual prowess was intriguing. He chuckled to himself, thinking about the market for such a power. "Who would buy sexual power? I'd sell it if I had the chance," he mused, considering the potential profits such a rare and sought-after herb could bring.
His curiosity about the herb's effects was strong, but his immediate mission to locate Miss Sorella and sort out his situation at the academy kept him focused. With each step closer to the long apartment building, he prepared himself for the interaction, wondering what kind of reception he would receive once he found her.
As Sakar continued his journey to the apartment, the buzz in the market about the "naked women" incident was impossible to ignore. People chatted excitedly, recounting details of the legendary occurrence. Those who had witnessed it embellished their stories with glee, while those who hadn't found it hard to believe such an event could have really happened. The ones who missed out expressed regret, clearly feeling left out of a major town spectacle.
'Finally, payback for what you did to me through the years!' Sakar thought to himself, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The sense of retribution filled him with a peaceful contentment, knowing his final prank had made such an unforgettable impact.
With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Sakar reached the entrance of the long apartment building. He paused for a moment, taking in the significance of the moment before stepping forward to find Miss Sorella and hopefully sort out his future at Chicken Head Academy.
The fury among the women had not subsided. As they hastily covered themselves and navigated through the marketplace, they felt the weight of public exposure—each step was a reminder of their unintended show. Many of them had spouses or were engaged, and the incident left them feeling as if their personal honor had been compromised.
Determined to address the humiliation and seek justice, they quickly agreed on a plan. First, each woman would head home to change into proper attire. Then, they would convene at Miss Sorella's apartment to deliberate on how to handle the situation with Sakar.
Miss Sorella's residence was well known in the area, not just for its location on the top floor of the longest apartment building but also for its expansive rooftop terrace. This space, often admired for its design and view, became the meeting spot for the aggrieved women.
When Sakar approached the building, unaware of the gathering above, five women were already there, their anger palpable. With Miss Sorella included, they formed a group of six, each sharing a sense of violation and a thirst for resolution. The terrace, typically a place of relaxation and beauty, was now the stage for a heated discussion about justice and retribution.
As the group of women gathered on Miss Sorella's rooftop terrace, the atmosphere was charged with anger and calls for justice.
"Miss Sorella, he's going to be at your school! You have to punish him!" one woman urged passionately, her voice echoing slightly in the open space.
"I want to take care of him myself! Hand him over," another demanded, her tone fierce and hands balled into fists.
"This was just too much! He really crossed the line this time!" added a third, her face flushed with outrage.
"Let's boil him alive," blurted someone from the back, the harshness of the suggestion silencing the group for a moment.
Everyone turned to look at the woman who spoke, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Realizing she had gone too far, she quickly backpedaled, "OK. OK, I didn't really mean it," she muttered, her voice much softer.
Amidst the tense atmosphere, one of the ladies, who seemed more amused than angry, shared her unexpected take, "Honestly, it was exciting to move around naked. I haven't felt this alive in a long time."
Her comment cut through the tension, causing a few raised eyebrows and a moment of silence as the others processed her different perspective on the event.
The four women turned to Miss Sorella, speaking simultaneously in exasperation, "Please don't take her into account. She is crazy."
The more relaxed woman continued, undeterred, "Come on, didn't you feel the excitement when your body was seen as prey by many males or even by some females? It was fun. Thanks to Sakar, I feel enlightened."
"YOU ARE WAY TOO OPEN-MINDED!" another woman retorted sharply, her voice filled with disbelief.
Miss Sorella, attempting to restore some calm, intervened, "Ladies, relax. What happened has happened. There's nothing we can do about it now. And remember, Sakar is no longer in the orphanage, so you can relax."
"We don't want him to just get away with what he did," another woman insisted, her tone firm.
"OK, I will think of a proper punishment. But please, let's move on already," Miss Sorella assured them, trying to conclude the heated discussion.
The open-minded one added, trying to lighten the mood, "Let's just call it a funny memory and be done with it."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. The sudden sound paused their conversation, turning all heads towards the entrance with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
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LifeCharger
LifeCharger Have fun reading. :) Hope you leave a comment for me to understand how the story goes.
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