Deviant: No Longer Human

6:00 AM, 31st August, 2031.

The hotel room was cloaked in darkness, the heavy curtains shutting out the early morning light.

Outside, the world was still and quiet, with the sun not expected to rise until 8 o'clock.

Inside, however, the atmosphere was one of heavy intimacy, filled with the remnants of a night that had reshaped their lives.

Wang Xiao lay in the faint light, his gaze fixed on the sleeping beauty resting atop him.

Mei's eyes were swollen and red, the aftereffects of tears and exhaustion, her long lashes flickering subtly, as though even in sleep she couldn't escape the echoes of what had happened.

Her body, warm and soft, rose and fell gently with her breaths, her chest pressed against his.

Despite all she had endured, there was a quiet glow to her face, a subtle brightness that only enhanced her beauty, even in her helplessness.

He watched her lips, still bruised and trembling, moving in sleep as though she were begging for him to stop, her subconscious mind trapped in the night.

And yet, despite everything, she remained radiant, an ethereal beauty that stirred something deep within him.

A sense of conquest stirred within Wang Xiao as he ran his hand along her back, savoring the warmth of her skin, before squeezing her firm and soft buttocks beneath the quilt that covered them both.

This was his little sister, bound by blood, yet now claimed by him in a way that defied all societal norms.

"If someone had asked me seven years ago—back when life was simpler, when time moved at a human pace—whether this would ever be possible," he thought, his mind drifting to the past, "I would have said no, without hesitation."

But time had changed everything, twisting their fates in ways he could never have anticipated.

Now, here she was, lying naked above him, her body melded with his, the boundaries that once separated them obliterated.

He didn't dare wake her, not wanting to risk the unexpected slap that might come his way if she woke up suddenly.

Despite the shamelessness he had developed over the years—an essential survival trait in a world that demanded thick skin—there was still a sense of modesty within him.

It was a strange contradiction, this feeling of possession mixed with a lingering respect for the girl she once was.

"Um…" Mei's delicate body stirred, responding instinctively to the intensity of Wang Xiao's gaze.

Her long, dark lashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly caught in a storm, and then, with a sudden, sharp intake of breath, her eyes flew open, their once-bright luster now clouded with confusion and pain.

She gasped softly, her chest rising as if trying to draw in air but finding it difficult, her breaths shallow and strained.

"Haaaa…"

Her voice, usually as sweet and clear as a flowing stream, was now choked with emotion, barely more than a whisper.

Her gaze, soft and wide like a frightened doe, locked onto Wang Xiao, bewilderment mingling with a deep, aching sorrow. "Why does it hurt so much... to breathe?" she wondered, her thoughts in a sea of confusion.

As her large, round-shaped eyes wandered around the room, taking in the disarray—the rumpled sheets, the oppressive darkness still lingering in the early morning hours—understanding slowly dawned.

Her lips, soft and bruised, trembled as memories of the night came flooding back, each one a stab to her heart.

The realization was like a blade slicing through her, leaving her breathless, her expression growing more downcast with each passing moment.

"No… no, this can't be real," her mind screamed, the reality of what had happened crashing down upon her like a mountain collapsing under its own weight.

She blinked rapidly, tears welling up in her eyes, her once-rosy cheeks now pale as a winter's dawn.

"Brother…" Her voice was a trembling whisper, fragile as a single petal caught in the wind. "Why… why did you do this?"

Her eyes, like pools of dark, endless sorrow, searched his, looking for a hint of remorse, some sign that he regretted.

But in his gaze, she found only cold resolve, the very same that had driven him through the night.

He remained silent, his piercing eyes locked onto her, unyielding as the mountains.

The absence of an answer, of even a flicker of guilt, cut deeper than any sword could have. Mei's heart clenched painfully, a storm of emotions raging within her, yet her voice was too weak to carry them.

She turned her head away, tears streaming down her soft, pale cheeks like pearls slipping from a broken strand.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she thought desperately, her heart heavy with despair. "How can I live with this... after what you have done? Can you give me my life back?"

A bitter laugh rose up inside her, but it dissolved into a sob, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress it. "I trusted you…" she whispered, her words barely audible, more to herself than to him. "I trusted you… How could you…?"

Her small hands, which once held the gentleness of spring blossoms, now clenched the sheets beneath her with a desperation born of grief.

Her knuckles turned white, contrasting sharply with the redness of her swollen eyes.

She wanted to scream, to cry out against the injustice of it all, but her voice had abandoned her, leaving only the hollow emptiness of a heart shattered beyond repair.

"What do I do now?" Mei murmured weakly, her voice barely more than a breath, as if the weight of her sorrow was too much to bear.

The once-bright spirit that had always shone within her was now dimmed, heavy with despair.

She gazed ahead, her eyes unfocused and filled with tears, as she whispered, "How am I supposed to face Mom… face everyone… after everything?"

Wang Xiao stared at her tear-streaked face, his mind wrestling with her words.

Face whom?

He wondered. 'Who is going to say anything, anyway? Who dares?'

In his mind, there was no one to judge her, no one to care—but as he opened his mouth to voice this, he hesitated.

A rare moment of restraint held him back, as if some unseen gods from the heavens might curse him for being the insensitive bastard he knew himself to be.

He swallowed his sharp words, forcing himself to soften his approach.

With a sigh, he reached out, his hand moving gently down her back, trying to offer some semblance of comfort.

His fingers traced soothing circles on her skin, while his other hand cradled her head, pressing it against his chest.

"You can cry now…" he said softly, his voice unexpectedly tender.