Chapter 127: The Prostitute

The moment Rowan’s footsteps faded away, the girl turned toward Julian.

She moved closer with slow, seductive steps, her wide hips swaying with ease before she reached him and placed her hand against his singlet- clad hard chest. Her fingers traced lightly over the firm plane of his muscles, lingering as though she already knew the effect she was meant to have.

Then she circled him.

Her touch followed her movement, sliding across his chest, grazing his shoulders, drifting lower before returning again, as though mapping him out inch by inch.

But strangely—Julian felt nothing.

He watched her instead.

She was undeniably beautiful. The kind of beauty that demanded attention. Yet his body remained still, unresponsive, like a part of him had been disconnected from whatever this was supposed to awaken.

“You’re… unreal,” she murmured, her voice soft and laced with admiration as she tilted her head slightly to study him. “Are you even human? Or were you made differently from the rest of us?”

Her fingers pressed lightly against his chest again.

“Maybe Zeus himself carved you,” she added with a faint smile.

But Julian’s attention was immediately piqued after she mentioned ‘Zeus’

His brows drew together, the word lingering in his mind, echoing faintly as though it had been attached to him before. Like a memory that’s out of reach.

Has he ever been called Zeus before?

His hand moved without much thought, closing around her wrist mid-motion.

She gasped softly at the sudden contact.

Julian turned his head fully to face her, his expression calm but distant.

“You’re free to go,” he said.

For a moment, she blinked at him, confusion flashing across her face.

Then she smiled, recovering quickly, as her tone shifted into a playful tone.

“I have not offended you. Have I?” she asked gently. “Just tell me what you want… I’ll do it.”

Before he could respond, she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him, her fingers already reaching for the drawstrings of his joggers.

Julian stepped back instinctively.

Her grip slipped, and she caught herself quickly, glancing up at him.

“I said you should go,” he repeated, his tone firmer this time.

She stilled.

A flicker of panic crossed her eyes before she tried again, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

“Please… let me serve you, Sir.”

Julian frowned.

“Is it compulsory to want you?”

Her lips parted, but this time, there was no practiced seduction behind her expression. Only fear.

“If… if you don’t,” she said slowly, her voice beginning to tremble, “they’ll think I failed.”

Julian’s gaze hardened. “Failed at what?”

Her eyes dropped. “At my job.”

Silence settled between them for a moment.

“And what happens to those who fail?” he asked.

She paused, then her voice dropped even lower.

“They punish us,” she said. “Most times… the punishment is…death.”

Julian’s jaw tightened. For a second, he said nothing.

Then, more quietly, he asked, “What’s your name?”

She looked up at him. “Sylvia.”

A short breath escaped him, almost like a scoff.

“Sylvia,” he repeated, his tone packed with command even though he didn’t try to. “Go back. And if anyone dares to hurt you, come to me.”

Her composure broke completely.

The confidence she had walked in with shattered, slipping away as tears filled her eyes and began to fall.

Julian watched, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

Moments ago, she had carried herself with control. Now she looked like a girl barely holding herself together.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Let me stay… just for tonight. So they’ll believe I did my job.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress.

Julian exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.

He wanted to be alone.

That much was clear to him. He was still healing and he needed some alone time that he hadn’t had the luxury of having since the past two weeks.

“I’ll walk you back and make sure they don’t touch you,” he said.

Sylvia snapped her head up instantly.

“You don’t understand!” she said, her voice rising in panic. “That would make it worse. They’ll know I didn’t do anything. You’d be handing me over to them!”

Her hands moved through her hair anxiously, her breathing uneven.

“I’m doomed,” she whispered. “They’ll kill me tonight.”

Julian studied her silently, the idea of her getting killed because he refused to have sex with her making his stomach churn.

He sighed quietly.

“Fine. You can stay.”

She blinked. “Really?”

He nodded once.

“Are you sure?” she asked again, wanting to be sure.

Julian gave her a look. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The tension left her body all at once. “Thank you so much. You’ve just saved my life.”

She exhaled shakily before moving away, retreating toward the wall instead of the bed. She sank down onto the floor, pulling her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, her posture small, and guarded.

Like she was trying to disappear.

Julian stared at her, taken aback by how her action now contrasted sharply against when she came in earlier.

“Get on the bed,” he said before he could change his mind.

Sylvia shook her head. “I’m fine here. I won’t disturb you.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

“Get on the bed, Sylvia,” he said. “If you’re staying, you might as well be comfortable.”

She hesitated, then slowly pushed herself to her feet.

Just as she did—A knock sounded on the door.

She froze.

Her eyes widened before she rushed closer to him, lowering her voice into a whisper.

“I have to fake a moan,” she said quickly.

Julian frowned. “What?”

The knock came again. And before he could process anything further, Sylvia started moaning loudly.

Julian’s face twisted slightly in disbelief before a quiet laugh slipped out of him. He turned his head away, shaking it faintly.

The knocking eventually ceased.

“Sorry to disturb,” a voice called from the other side before footsteps faded away. Rowan.

It was like he came to check whether Sylvia was doing her job.

Sylvia pressed a hand to her chest, breathing out in relief before collapsing onto the bed.

Julian sat down at the edge of it, watching her for a moment.

“What’s your story, Sylvia?” he asked, not able to help his curiosity.

She went still.

Then she spoke. “My story isn’t worth your time,” she murmured. “I’m just a prostitute.”

She turned away from him, pulling the blanket over herself as though retreating into it.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out.

She had fallen asleep.

Julian remained awake.

His gaze drifted away from her, settling somewhere distant as the quiet pressed in again.

There was a contact in his head.

It had been there for days, lingering at the edge of his thoughts.

He picked up the phone that had been given to him and stared at the screen for a moment before slowly typing it in.

Each digit felt familiar beneath his fingers.

He stared at the completed number.

Who did it belong to? Even after he had lost his memory, he could still remember this number…

His thumb hovered over the call button.

What if it didn’t exist?

What if it was just his mind trying to fill the emptiness with fragments that meant nothing?

Julian exhaled slowly, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

Right on the edge of dialing.