The Dark King’s Claim;

The Dark King’s Claim;

One of them licked her lips before replying.
"Işıl Gemici. She ran off with the son-in-law of Bayrak Group three years ago. Fooled the guy with some twisted scheme, and together they robbed the entire conglomerate. Then she dumped him and came back alone. But clearly, she's still on top."

Another woman nodded, visibly shaken.
"Last year, she pushed a woman down the stairs just for getting close to her target. The poor thing ended up paralyzed. If it were me, I wouldn't even say her name let alone go after the same man."

As silence fell over the group, a low hum started to build in Arzu's mind.
What kind of place was this?
How had people become so ruthless, so feral?
But worst of all, Ateş was here.

Her first love, the boy she'd been forced to leave behind so long ago... That kind, compassionate soul what was he doing in a pit like this?
What kind of man had he become?
"Işıl… if there's something you want, this time I'll take it from you. Even if it means opening an old wound," she whispered, then stepped back into the hall.

As they returned to the hall, the spotlights flickered to life. A voice boomed across the room in grand announcement:
"Welcome, esteemed guests! Tonight, allow us to explain our system:

Yellow masks newcomers, mistresses-to-be, and virgins!
Red masks members of high society and nobility!
And black masks… belong to royalty, heirs, and rulers!"
The host's voice grew louder as the crowd erupted in cheers.

A chill ran down Arzu's spine. She scanned the room again her eyes inevitably found him.
He wore a black mask.
So, he was one of the kings.
But why is he looking at me? she wondered, anxiety tightening her chest. I'm not supposed to draw attention.
She shifted her position, as if trying to escape the gravity of those piercing eyes.

Suddenly, the stage lit up. The host shouted with gleeful fervor:
"Let's welcome our yellow ladies to the stage!"

The women began walking forward, their steps slowly gaining rhythm like they were part of a ritual.
Arzu's heartbeat climbed to her throat. She stood still, watching in silence.
The crowd gathered, watching with something close to sinister fascination.
She found herself among them.

The men formed a circle, their eyes roaming hungrily over the women.
"Now, let's see your prey, hunters!" the host cried out, nearly intoxicated with excitement.

Arzu felt sick to her stomach. "What is this man saying?"
And the answer came without delay:
"All women, take off your clothes! Show your lust!"

The hall fell into sudden silence. Some women flinched, some hesitantly reached for their straps. Satin fabrics began falling to the floor some with hesitation, others with fierce pride.

Spotlights swiveled to illuminate every woman. Under the blinding glare, every breath, every step had become a challenge.
Arzu stood frozen. Shame and fury twisted inside her. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her breath caught in her throat. Why were all these women trapped in such humiliation?
When the lights returned to white, the women quietly left the stage.

Then came the announcement she had dreaded:
"Red ladies, to the stage!"

In that moment, Arzu's mind blurred.
This place... what was it?

What had she gotten herself into tonight?
She didn't want to undress, yet there she was, stranded in the middle of the room. And now, because everyone else had stripped, all eyes were on her watching like a pack of starving wolves...

Ateş gripped his glass tighter. "Don't you dare..." he muttered.
From within the crowd, Cem caught the look in his boss's eyes. Without hesitation, he signaled his men.
He knew Ateş well. "Shit. It's about to blow up," he whispered.

The crowd had turned into a buzzing mass.
Someone shouted:
"Take it off, baby! Let's see those pretty curves!"

Arzu was trembling in fear, but her steps had brought her this far; there was no turning back. She took a deep breath and reached for her straps. Her grey dress slipped from her shoulders, gliding down to her waist.
The delicate black lingerie, paired with the soft lines of her body, formed an image both sensual and striking. Her full breasts caught the light glorious, vulnerable, defiant.

The crowd roared louder.
"Come on, darling! Let it fall, we want more!"

Arzu shut her eyes tight. Behind her lids, rage, helplessness, and shame collided like a storm. She released the dress from her grip.
Her small, sculpted hips were now bare. Dozens of breathless eyes were locked on her, the air thick with heat and hunger.
And just then…
The crowd parted like the Red Sea. A tall, tense figure stepped forward, storming toward the stage:
Ateş Yamanoğlu.

He yanked off his jacket and wrapped it tightly around Arzu. One arm locked around her waist, pulling her close. His eyes were blazing like hellfire. His jaw was clenched, his body radiating fury.
Arzu trembled in his arms. She couldn't breathe. Her eyes locked onto the darkness behind his mask.

The crowd erupted:
"Hey! Move aside! We wanna see the girl!"

The announcer shouted through peals of laughter:
"Looks like our dark king has made his choice! Sorry, gentlemen! Ateş Yamanoğlu is a jealous man. He doesn't share his prey."

When Arzu heard his name, she froze. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see his face under the lights. Inside her, longing from years past swelled—alongside the desperate hope of glimpsing the boy he once was, or what he had become.
She struggled to breathe in the strength of his arms, her heart pounding in her ears.
The night she had planned was in ruins. And now, only one question echoed in her mind:

"Ateş... who was he? What had he become?"