Oliver was a middle-class man. Not wealthy. Not poor. But comfortably in-between and content with it. He didn’t chase riches or fame. He chased peace. Simplicity. The kind of life where your phone buzzes from your mum asking to bring her something from the market. He had a stable job at a local law firm. A family who loved him unconditionally. Friends he could count on. Non-breed dogs who were loyal, loud, and full of love. He had bought his own car. Second-hand. A little scratch on the side. But it was his. He took pride in it.
At 23, he was charming but closed off. Not cold – just… cautious. He’d had flings, yes. A few late-night texts. Some moments of passion. But nothing with roots. He didn’t feel ready. Not for love. Not yet. He was still finding himself – or so he believed. He had dreams – of opening his own practice one day, of adopting more dogs, of perhaps, one day, meeting someone quiet and kind to share his peace with. Dreams that were small, soft, and his.
Catherina was 30. But time obeyed her like everything else did. Wherever she went, the world seemed to curve toward her, as if gravity itself had a crush on her. No one knew who she really was. No background. No records. Just rumors. “She’s the daughter of a foreign king.” “She made her fortune in crypto.” None of it was true. All of it was true. But what made her truly powerful was her gift. She could sense goodness – flare it, like a wolf picking up a scent. And once she found a good soul… she didn’t seduce. She designed.
To the good ones, she became their fantasy. When she met Oliver, she took the form of the woman he had only seen in dreams: A big frame that radiated softness and strength. Her breasts, her eyes, her voice – all of her was designed to con Oliver. Her curves, her walk, her scent – she had become the woman he’d imagined late at night and longed for in daylight. And a smile that could forgive sins and start new ones at the same time. Catherina knew. She had studied Oliver from a distance. Through energy. Through instinct. Through that peculiar connection, He was a genuinely good soul. The kind who helped without asking. The kind who gave and never expected. The kind who believed the world was still worth saving.
She decided how it would begin. One quiet afternoon, she ran. Not from danger, but from an illusion of it. She was breathless, eyes wide, like a hunted thing. Not terrified – just perfectly pretending to be. And right on cue, she bumped into him. The impact was sharp enough to knock him off balance. Oliver fell. She stood over him, radiant, shaken, flawless. He looked up at her, and in that moment – time forgot itself. It was love at first sight. At least, for him. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice laced with genuine concern. She didn’t answer. She just reached out, her hand slipping into his, and helped him off the ground. Then, with a nod so subtle it could’ve been imagined, she turned and started walking away. She knew. It is always easier when the man chases the woman.
Catherina was cunning. She didn’t love men. She loved to corrupt them. She was demonic. Although not evil. Her duty was to corrupt. To test the willingness of men. She was made for this – to expose the cracks in their purity, to challenge their restraint, to play. She simply wanted to see what they would choose. And she chose, with intention and care, which of the seven deadly sins would ruin each man she seduced. She wasn’t alone. There were others like her. Men and women, scattered across the world, hidden behind beauty, charm, intellect – each one tailored to the desires of their chosen prey. And like Catherina, they all shared the same modus operandi: they never forced. They played. They waited. They seduced. And in the end, they ruined – only when the prey said YES..,a damned consent.
Creatures like Catherina were living questions dressed in skin, beauty..as temptation. And if a man or woman resisted – truly resisted – the game changed. But not in the way one might hope. The rare few who passed the test were not given peace or escape. Instead, when they died, they too were transformed. Reborn as something like her. Like them. Beings made to tempt, test, and unravel others. They would feel everything they had once overcome, now mirrored in another.
It was the cruelest of ironies, as they would become the very trap they once escaped. This was the game. And though they knew its cost, they played it anyway. Because in the end, they had no choice. Catherina knew that not even the kindest of men could resist the promise of touch, the illusion of closeness. The sex – or the idea of it – was often enough. All of them could be corrupted. It was always a game – a silent, cruel game. How many days would they last? The most humble of men had fallen at her feet. Some lasted months, others only days. She could make them want her so badly they would lie, steal, even kill. She would ruin them. She just knew how to pull the strings – and exactly when to pull them.
Oliver couldn’t stop thinking about her. For two whole days, he was haunted. He should’ve asked her name. He should’ve said more. He should’ve followed. But he didn’t. Instead, he replayed the moment in his head until reality lost its edges. He dreamed of her – even though he hadn’t earned the right to. He imagined conversations, imagined a future, imagined her. It angered him. Not because he’d fallen – but because she’d walked away so perfectly. Then, on a warm Thursday night, he went out for dinner with his friends. The restaurant had an outdoor terrace lit with hanging bulbs, the kind that made everything look like a scene from a romantic film. He wasn’t looking for her. He was trying not to. But fate – or something crueler – had other plans. She appeared. Catherina. Jogging clothes. Sweating. Running. As if she were simply passing by, casual and divine all at once. Oliver froze, mid-laugh, mid-bite, mid-sentence. His entire world went silent. There she was. Again. And this time, she didn’t bump into him. She didn’t look panicked. She looked exactly like a second chance. He didn’t say a word to his friends. He just got up and ran out of the restaurant, weaving between tables, barely noticing the startled glances. He reached her. “It’s you,” he said, slightly breathless, heart pounding. “We met before. You bumped into me.” It was the first time he heard her voice. It was a melody – soft, patient, just slightly amused. “Yes. Hi, yeah… it’s me,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. “I’m sorry about last time. I didn’t apologise.” Her words weren’t important. It was her voice that mattered. It wrapped around him like velvet. And just like that… he was lost again. “It’s alright,” Oliver said. He was lost for words. He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t want this moment to stop. He didn’t want her to leave. He was already under her charm. “I need to go home and shower,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “It was good to see you again… hmm, I didn’t catch your name?” “Oliver,” he replied quickly. “I am Oliver. And you are?” She smiled. “I’ll tell you if we meet again.” And just like that, she turned and went back to running.
Weeks passed. No sign of her. Oliver tried to go on with life, but it was no longer his. It belonged to the memory of her. He thought of her day and night. At the office, while walking his dogs, while eating, even in the silence between sleep and waking – she lingered. He dreamed of her every single night. Sometimes she just ran, always a few steps ahead. He started to believe he had let go of something rare. Something divine. And that belief turned into obsession. He retraced every step, walked every path where he might find her again. He’d slow his car if he saw a runner in the distance. But mostly, he thought of her… bathing. As she had said she was leaving to do that. The image haunted him. Comforted him. Tortured him. He imagined her skin under water, the way the droplets would race down her collarbone. He fancied her curves, her scent, the mystery behind that smile. He yearned for her. And he hated that he did.
One day, without warning, she came. To the law firm where he worked. Oliver wasn’t there. He was late – caught in traffic, the kind that makes time feel personal. She stood in the reception, unbothered. She wore a tailored red dress that whispered confidence. Her eyes, calm as still water, scanned the space. She could sense him. Not physically. Spiritually. She had that flare – that cursed gift. She knew where her victims were. How they felt. What they needed to be broken. And she knew Oliver. She knew the exact level of obsession he was drowning in. The exact weakness that had begun to bloom. She smiled faintly. He would arrive soon. And when he did… the game would change. She told the receptionist she had an appointment with Oliver’s boss.
When he arrived to greet her, she explained she needed legal help. He listened – and he was charmed. She had a way with words. The tone, the pitch, the pauses. She didn’t just speak – she wove spells. The boss smiled too much. He leaned in without realising. He offered her coffee he didn’t usually offer. And after hearing her issue – something vague about property abroad and legal loopholes – he told her he would’ve personally taken the case. “But I’ll be out of the country for a few weeks,” he said, regretfully. “But don’t worry. I’ll assign my best lawyer to assist you.” He stepped out to look for Oliver. But Oliver was not yet in. The boss found one of the younger associates and asked if she could handle the case. The colleague agreed and headed to reception to meet the client. And just as she reached for the doorknob- Oliver arrived. He saw his boss in the hallway and rushed toward him, slightly flustered. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, catching his breath. Before his boss could respond, a familiar scent wrapped itself around Oliver like a ghost of memory. He tilted his head to the left. And there she was. Sitting. Waiting. Looking stunningly out of place and yet absolutely belonging. Catherina. “I’ve been looking for you,” his boss said, patting his shoulder. “This woman came in needing legal advice. Janine will look into it and you help her if she needs.” Oliver didn’t look away from Catherina. His voice came out firmer than expected. “I could do it on my own, Mr. Shank. I’ll ask Janine if I need help.” His boss blinked. Oliver had never contradicted him before. Not like that. “Well,” he said slowly, his tone just a touch colder. “Let’s see what the lady thinks.” And all three of them; Oliver, Janine, and his boss made their way back to the boardroom to meet her. Catherina stood up as they entered. She greeted Janine politely, her voice smooth and formal, but her eyes never left Oliver. Her posture was poised yet deliberate, as if every movement had been rehearsed. She tilted her head ever so slightly, a quiet invitation. Her gaze lingered – expectant – like she already knew how this moment would unfold. Inside, she smiled.
The trap was already closing. “Oliver,” she said. He looked stunned. It had been weeks since he last saw her, but she remembered his name. His heart clenched. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, in dreams and daydreams, and now that it was real, he felt both breathless and exposed. A part of him wanted to run, another part wanted to stay frozen in that moment forever. And beneath it all, a strange, quiet fear: that everything in his life before her had just ended. She shook hands with both Janine and Oliver, then turned to them and said, “I’m Catherina.” Mr. Shank, the boss, raised an eyebrow. “It seems you two know each other,” he said, the slightest hint of curiosity in his voice. “Would you like Oliver to look into your matter? It’s a significant legal dispute, complex, demanding, and time sensitive. If handled well, it could really enhance the firm’s reputation. But it’ll take most of his time and energy.” Catherina didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She turned slightly; eyes still locked on Oliver. She stepped closer, just enough that he could feel something shift – like a command wrapped in silk, as if she was guiding him toward a decision without ever saying a word. She looked at him, her eyes calm but unyielding. Then softly, almost like a dare, she asked: “Are you fine with me ruining you?” Oliver didn’t flinch. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need answers. He just said: “Yes.”
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