CHAPTER 4 : SENSUAL RULES 🥵💊

[Raven’s POV]

Leo and I had barely settled into our assigned suite when the first crack appeared.

Our suitcases were still half-open, clothes spilling on the bed carelessly, when Leo suddenly stopped pacing.

He turned to me, eyes calculating, and said, “We need to get eliminated.”

I blinked. “What?”

He began pacing, hands moving as if he were planning a final boss fight.

“First of all, we play weak. We pretend we’re fighting each other. No chemistry, no teamwork. That way we don’t qualify for the next round and get kicked out early.”

I stared at him like he had lost his mind.

I had never seen Leo this serious unless we were in the middle of a championship match. Earlier, he’d been almost glowing—excited, driven, obsessed with Aphroxis. Now he looked cornered.

“You dragged me here,” I said slowly. “You wouldn’t shut up about winning. So what changed?”

He stopped pacing and sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can’t you see this game is rigged?”

I folded my arms. “Explain.”

“They brought in exes,” he snapped. “That’s no coincidence. They’re setting us up.”

“And?” I pushed.

He laughed harshly. “And?! This is an international game show, Raven. One wrong move and our marriage image is destroyed. Our fans—”

I squinted at him. “Is this really about fans?”

He hesitated. Just a second too long that a thought creeped into my mind.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. “Leo… are you still in love with Esme?”

“What? No!” He turned sharply, defensive. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why are you freaking out?”

“I just don’t want us trending for the wrong reasons,” he said quickly. “That’s all.”

He resumed pacing, restless, fingers clenching and unclenching.

I didn’t buy it.

Leo never panicked like this over fans. He panicked when he was losing control. And the moment Owen appeared earlier—hot, all smiles and friendly—Leo had gone stiff.

Either he still felt something for Esme…

Or Owen knew something he didn’t want exposed.

Before I could dig deeper, a sharp mechanical tone echoed through the suite.

[GAME SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

Meeting time.

All players report to the main hall in ten minutes.

(Repeated)

I jumped, spinning toward the ceiling.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

My eyes scanned the walls—and froze.

Cameras.

They stared openly from the corners, black lenses blinking red.

“Of course,” I scoffed. “Cameras already.”

Leo followed my gaze, his jaw straining. “Let’s hope we can still quit.”

I didn’t answer.

We changed into light clothing—simple, neutral—and headed downstairs.

*****

The main hall was nothing like the bright luxury upstairs.

It was dim, bathed in red neon light that painted everyone’s skin darker and almost unrecognizable at first glance.

This was no meeting room.

This was a stage.

“Oookay.” Owen’s voice boomed through the low murmur. He stood at the center, hands clasped, smile broad and intimidating. “Let’s settle down.”

The room quieted instantly.

“Welcome,” he continued, “to the first official briefing of the APHROXIS Game Show.”

Leo and I took seats beside Fiona and her fiancé, Ken. Fiona’s posture was stiff, her earlier cheer gone. Her eyes were locked on Owen like she was waiting for something to explode.

Probably because all three of Ken’s exes were here.

I bit back a laugh.

“Some of the rules you’ll be living by for the next three months are displayed on the screen,” Owen said, gesturing behind him, “and inside the handbook placed beside each of you.”

I picked mine up, the cover sleek and black, APHROXIS stamped in red.

As Owen spoke, the rules flashed on the screen.

*****

APHROXIS GAME SHOW: PLAYER HANDBOOK

He explained each section slowly, clearly, like a man enjoying his power.

Participation rules.

—Mandatory couples.

—Binding contracts.

—Self-elimination strictly prohibited.

—A $200,000 fine for anyone who tries to leave.

A ripple of shock ran through the room.

“Two hundred thousand?” someone whispered.

“Voluntary withdrawal equals automatic elimination plus penalties,” Owen repeated calmly.

I glanced at Leo.

His face had gone pale.

Game duration.

—Three months.

—Weekly cycles.

—Skill/Gaming challenges. Sports challenges. Physical challenges.

Then every Friday.

—Sensual role-playing (the game master would present the outfits needed and tools required).

I swallowed hard.

What ranks each player (doesn't have to be the main player and their partners, they can switch as the game goes on.)

—Audience votes.

—Couple Leaderboards.

—Single player points

—Public rankings.

—Points awarded for chemistry.

Chemistry.

My wrist suddenly felt heavy.

—Bonuses for winning.

—Deductions for underperforming.

—Punishments for low stats.

—Public punishments.

—Humiliation.

—Loss of privileges.

Repeated failure equals elimination.

The words blurred together, but the message was clear:

This game would break people and badly.

Rules of conduct.

—No secrets outside the game.

—No violence.

—Mandatory cameras and microphones (though restricted during different periods of the day).

—Sabotage allowed—but only when they said so.

—Technology requirements.

—Microphones at all times.

—Heart-rate watches to monitor stress and arousal.

My breath hitched.

Arousal?

“Heart-rate spikes may affect your score,” Owen added casually, like he was talking about the weather.

I glanced down at my wrist again, imagining the device already there, exposing me.

Dress code.

—Monday: explicit catsuits for women. Cat pants for men with bare chests.

—Tuesday - Thursday: Random but evealing clothes, not too explicit.

—Friday: special costumes provided by the game.

Performance judged on confidence. Chemistry. Audience reaction.

—Exes and twists.

—Mandatory interaction.

—Refusal equals point deduction.

—Secret challenges designed to test emotional weaknesses.

I almost choked.

One winning couple doesn't have to be the couple who signed in together.

One hundred million dollars as the cash prize, ambassadioral privileges, a car, one week suite and other awards for the winning couples.

By the time Owen finished, the room tension had risen beyond reasonable degrees.

It was hotter and colder at the same time.

“Remember,” he said smoothly, “cameras are always watching. Your heart is being measured. Every move brings you closer to winning… or elimination.”

Then he clapped his hands once.

“Now,” he continued, “before we proceed, there’s one more thing.”

Masked assistants on explicit catsuits entered the room, each carrying sleek black boxes.

They stopped in front of every couple.

“Please take a box,” Owen instructed.

Leo and I exchanged a look.

I lifted ours.

It was heavier than expected.

“Inside,” Owen said, “you’ll find your heart-rate monitors and microphones.”

I opened the box.

Inside lay two sleek electronic watches and two tiny mics.

“Put them on,” Owen ordered lightly.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the watch. The moment it snapped around my wrist, it vibrated softly.

A thin red line blinked to life.

“Microphones next.”

I clipped mine on.

A faint buzz followed.

“Congratulations,” Owen said, smiling wider. “You are now fully connected to APHROXIS.”

A few people laughed nervously.

Others didn’t.

“From this moment on,” he continued, “your vitals, conversations, and reactions are monitored across the entire house.”

Then he turned.

“Allow me to introduce the official game master.”

The lights dimmed and a faint mechanical sound hummed.

A red spotlight ignited at the center of the room.

The floor opened and a glass case rose slowly then stopped.

Inside sat a sleek red robot, glowing faintly.

“This,” Owen said, voice reverent, “is APHROXIS.”

The glass slid open.

Leo stiffened beside me.

“It monitors every room,” Owen went on. “There is no privacy here.”

A chill slid down my spine.

I imagined it watching me sleep.

Shower.

Breathe.

Wow.

Maybe this game wasn’t just crazy.

Maybe it was dangerous.

“More participants are still arriving,” Owen finished, clapping. “But for now…”

He smiled.

“Let the games begin.”

Applause erupted.

Some couples clapped eagerly.

Some exes looked thrilled.

Me?

I stared at the watch on my wrist, feeling it pulse softly.

I was already too deep to turn back now, it was get eliminated or win the prize for me.