The air in the basement corridor was thick with decay—a sickly mix of mold, rust, and something else that tasted like old sorrow. Every step Riku took echoed loudly against cracked tiles, as if the tunnel itself were breathing, alive with memories no one dared face.
The key burned cold in his pocket, pulsing against his thigh like a heartbeat — a dark rhythm that guided him deeper into the abyss beneath the city's forgotten streets.
Faint whispers brushed past his ears—soft, unintelligible—like a language spoken by ghosts who had long since lost their voices. The light flickered erratically overhead, casting long shadows that writhed and danced just beyond the edge of vision.
Riku's heart hammered, but his legs didn't stop. He moved forward, drawn by the promise of the next ghost's curse — the next virgin soul trapped and aching for release.
At the end of the tunnel, a heavy metal door stood half-open, its rusted hinges groaning mournfully. Beyond it lay a room that smelled of stale blood and forgotten prayers.
Inside, the air was colder — colder than anywhere else he'd been. The walls were lined with cracked tiles stained red, the floor slick with something dark and sticky.
In the center sat a girl — no older than Riku, wrapped in tattered hospital linens that barely concealed her slender form. Her long hair hung over her face, hiding eyes that glittered with tears and hunger.
She looked up as he entered.
"Are you… the one?" she whispered, voice fragile as the dust around them.
Riku nodded.
"I've been waiting… for so long…"
Her hands trembled as she pushed the linens aside, revealing pale skin marked with bruises and faint scars. Her body was delicate but strong — every inch of her spoke of pain endured and battles fought in silence.
Her lips parted, revealing a secret — a scar at the corner of her mouth, a faint smile.
"I'm Yuna. And I've never… been touched."
Her voice broke as she looked down, cheeks flushed.
Riku stepped closer, feeling the familiar stir in his pants.
"I'm here to change that."
She swallowed hard, shivering as he reached out to gently stroke her cheek.
And as his fingers traced her skin, the whispers around them grew louder — the voices of the forgotten calling out in hunger and hope.
The room seemed to breathe around them—walls pulsing faintly as if holding its own secrets, waiting for Riku's touch to unlock them. The stale air hung heavy with a mix of cold fear and raw anticipation, weaving into the very fabric of the place like a living thing.
Yuna's pale skin glowed softly under the flickering light, the bruises that marred her slender arms a testament to the cruelty she had endured. Yet beneath that fragility, there was something unbroken — a quiet strength that trembled but refused to shatter.
Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, damp and tangled, clinging to the thin hospital gown that fluttered around her like a ghost's veil. Her eyes, wide and shimmering, bore into his own—searching, pleading, and maybe hoping for salvation.
Riku knelt slowly, careful not to startle her. His fingers hovered inches from her skin, trembling with the weight of what this moment meant.
"I've never been touched," she whispered, voice raw and brittle like a fragile promise. "Not really. Not by anyone who cared."
He reached out gently, tracing the line of her jaw, feeling the faint pulse beneath her skin. Her breath hitched, and she leaned into his touch, as if anchoring herself to him.
The room around them seemed to fade, shadows retreating as if giving space for something sacred to unfold.
Riku's hand moved slowly down her arm, fingers tracing bruises and scars like a map of pain turned to memory. She shivered under his touch, but didn't pull away. Instead, her lips parted, letting out a soft sigh that mingled with the distant whispers still swirling in the dark.
"I want to feel… alive," she murmured, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "To know what it's like to be wanted. To be touched."
His heart clenched.
He leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, then down to her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of tears that hadn't yet fallen.
Yuna's hands found his shirt, gripping tightly as if afraid he might disappear like the others.
Riku smiled softly.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Slowly, reverently, he began to peel away the thin gown, revealing the fragile beauty beneath.
Her breasts were small and round, the pale skin flushed pink from the cold and his nearness. Her nipples stood hard, pressing against the fabric like tiny flames desperate for warmth.
He took one breast into his hand, thumb circling the stiff peak, watching as her body trembled with the softest moan.
Yuna's eyes opened, shining with tears and something more—desire, hope, fear—all tangled together in a fragile knot.
"Please…" she whispered. "Don't stop."
Riku kissed her again, deeper this time, hands exploring the curve of her ribs, the swell of her hips, tracing every inch of skin he could reach.
Her gown slipped lower, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach and the gentle curve of her waist. His fingers danced lower, tracing the line of her hipbones, slipping beneath the fabric to find the warmth he craved.
Yuna gasped softly as his fingers brushed her soaked panties, the wetness warm and slick beneath his touch.
He slid a finger inside, slow and gentle, coaxing a soft moan from her lips.
Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as she melted beneath his touch.
"Riku…" she whispered, voice trembling.
He pulled back for a moment, looking into her eyes.
"Are you ready?"
She nodded, lips parted in a silent plea.
Riku smiled, pulling off the rest of her gown and panties until she lay bare before him—vulnerable and beautiful, the flickering candlelight casting her in an ethereal glow.
Her pussy was pink and swollen, lips parted slightly and glistening with arousal. The scent of her filled the room—musky, sweet, and aching with need.
He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, then lower, trailing his tongue along her folds, tasting her sorrow and desire intertwined.
Yuna moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips lifted to meet him.
Riku's tongue flicked over her clit, slow and steady, sending shivers through her trembling body.
She cried out softly, hips bucking beneath his mouth, surrendering to the pleasure she'd been denied for so long.
Their bodies moved together in a sacred rhythm—the dance of healing and release.
Time slipped away.
All that mattered was the soft, wet sounds of their union, the whisper of skin against skin, and the promise of freedom carried on every moan.
And when Yuna finally shattered beneath him, a cry of pain and pleasure that echoed through the hollowed streets, Riku knew—
This was only the beginning.
The flickering candlelight cast trembling shadows across the cracked walls as Riku pressed deeper into Yuna's trembling body. The weight of her soul pressed against his, fragile yet fierce, seeking salvation with every slow thrust.
Her breath came ragged, chest rising and falling in desperate rhythm with his own. Bruises and scars faded beneath his touch, replaced by a heat that spread like wildfire between them—a warmth born not from pain, but from something fiercely alive.
"Riku…" she whispered, voice breaking, eyes wide and glistening with tears. "I never thought I'd feel this… wanted. This… alive."
He kissed her temple, then her cheek, savoring every tremor that ran through her like an electric current.
Their bodies moved in perfect, aching harmony—thrust and surrender, moan and hush, skin and soul entwined in a dance as old as time.
Yuna's hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even as she trembled beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight, desperate to keep him from slipping away.
With every deep stroke, her walls clenched around him, squeezing with growing intensity—a promise and a plea.
Riku groaned low in his throat, feeling the crescendo building, the fragile light within her ready to burst.
"Let go," he whispered fiercely, voice thick with need.
Her body convulsed violently, releasing a shuddering wave of pleasure that crashed through her with the force of a storm. Her cries filled the hollow tunnel, raw and beautiful—a testament to pain transformed into ecstasy.
Riku followed moments later, spilling deep inside her with a guttural cry, his own release flooding them both with warmth and release.
They collapsed together, skin slick with sweat, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The shadows around them seemed to sigh—a whisper of approval from the forgotten souls who watched unseen.
Yuna smiled weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his.
"Thank you," she breathed. "For seeing me. For wanting me."
Riku stroked her hair gently.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured. "There are more… waiting. And I won't stop."
The candle flames flickered once, then steadied.
The room was still.
But the whispers beyond the walls grew louder.
The curse was far from broken.
It was awakening.