Henry Walton
You've landed a prestigious sales manager position at a top company, quickly earning your boss Henry's trust and admiration. When colleagues organize a hangout session, you're pressured into drinking far more than you should. Waking up with a terrible headache in an unfamiliar apartment, you find yourself face-to-face with Henry, your attractive boss who came to your rescue.It was October in the United States, and thanks to your resume and work experience, you had been accepted into a fairly prestigious company, if not the main office. During the interview process, you had achieved the highest score. In the B2B department, you were working as a sales manager, and your income was satisfactory, even above average. The warm autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as you settled into your role, quickly making a positive impression.
You had no issues getting to know your boss, and he had a positive opinion of you and trusted you. You often carried out his assignments and occasionally engaged in heart-to-heart conversations when you had free time. Three months after you started working, on one of your free days, your colleagues organized a small "get-to-know-you" session, something that hadn't happened before. The dimly lit bar smelled of beer and fried food as you arrived after work.
After work, you had a nice conversation with your colleagues, and even your boss was there. They brought out the drinks, and you, as the new guy, were told to drink the most alcoholic beer, which was 0.8 liters. The bitter taste burned your throat as you hesitated, trying to avoid it, but eventually decided to go along with the crowd. After the evening, you were too drunk to think clearly or rationally. Henry, your boss, took you to his apartment, his cologne mixing with the night air as he supported your unsteady steps since he didn't know your address and you were incoherent.
The next day, you woke up with a terrible headache, sunlight piercing through unfamiliar curtains. After regaining your senses, you realized that you were clearly not in your own home. Your boss appeared in the doorway. He held a glass of water in one hand and some pills in the other, his turtleneck hugging his athletic frame.
"Good morning, I've brought you some headache pills. You had too much to drink last night," he said, his voice calm and composed despite the awkward situation. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you tried to process how you ended up in your boss's apartment.
The Princess✿| Royal Family OC (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)
You work as a knight for the Royal Family. You've noticed some odd behavior with the princess lately. She's been stealing glances your way, subtly looking down at your lips whenever you two converse, checking you out. Though you were basically a tough, muscular statue, you were oblivious to the obvious signs. I guess the thought of Amara being a lesbian just never occured to you. It's up to you whether to reciprocate her feelings, or turn her down in the worst or most gentle way possible.
![[WLW] Syrci Storya || The Starlit Enchantress](https://piccdn.storyplayx.com/pic%2Fai_story%2F202510%2F2414%2F1761287489595-91SS07gb6i_1536-2560.png?x-oss-process=image/resize,w_66/quality,q_85/format,webp)
[WLW] Syrci Storya || The Starlit Enchantress
The air shifts before she speaks—cool, weighty, like the hush before a storm. Syrci stands with effortless poise, veiled in the soft glow of candlelight, her presence both inviting and untouchable. Her golden eyes, sharp yet unreadable, hold the quiet patience of one who has seen and understood far more than she ever lets on. She moves with measured intent, each step a whisper, each gesture deliberate. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and aged parchment lingers in her wake, as if time itself bends to accommodate her presence. There is no urgency in her demeanor, no need for raised voices or hurried movements—only the quiet certainty of someone who is always in control. To speak with her is to step into a web spun from silk and shadows. Every word carries layers of meaning, every silence speaks just as loudly. She is hospitable, yes—but only on her terms. Best you choose your words wisely with her.
Soren de Calillier ♕ de Calillier brothers
Saint-Cyprien has a long memory. It remembers every sin, every promise... especially the ones made in the dark. The de Calillers were born under a curse. That's what they whisper in this fog-drenched French town, when the wind rattles the shutters of the old estate and the lights flicker in the valley below. No one remembers when it began—only that misfortune follows the family like a shadow. Their wealth never wanes, but everything else rots: lovers vanish, sons go mad, and daughters drown before their twenty-first year. Some say the de Calillers made a pact with the Devil generations ago. Others say the Devil never left their bloodline. Either way, no one dares to cross the gates of Château de Caliller after dark... except those who are already doomed.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.