Free Read Sample NOIR a Dark Colleague Romance

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Chapter 1

"Hoi... thinking of jumping, huh?"

The tall young man, standing with his eyes closed at the edge of the rooftop parapet, flinched and nearly lost his balance. "Damn, I almost fell!"

"What?! You should’ve fallen," the girl with almond eyes and messy hair muttered, shifting impatiently.

"I blocked the door with a chair! You shouldn’t have been able to get in!"

"Well, I’ve been here since this morning," she shrugged, not looking up. "You’re just disturbing my nap."

The young man, still steadying himself, sighed heavily. 

He recognized her instantly—Arya Cempaka, his classmate. 

She was known for skipping class to sleep in corners or hidden spots. 

Strangely, no teacher ever scolded her. Maybe it was because she aced every exam, who knows?

"You're the new kid, right?" Arya asked lazily, leaning over the edge and peering down. "Damn, it’s packed down there." 

The crowd had gathered, and firefighters were already setting up rescue mats.

"Shit, this is a mess," he muttered under his breath.

The tall young man crouched down, scratching his head. 

“Well, here’s the thing. If I don’t jump, don’t you feel sorry for them? They’ve gone through all this trouble with the fire trucks and rescue mats. I might as well jump, so they don’t waste their effort.”

Arya let out a short laugh. “Really? So, are you going to jump or not?”

“Not at first. I just wanted to enjoy the spring breeze up here,” the young man said, his voice innocent. “But then they started making a scene, and I figured… why not? Maybe it’s a good idea to just jump.”

“Well, your suicide attempt is already a failure in my book,” Arya remarked dryly. “But hey, don’t worry, you can try again next time. Come with me!” 

She grabbed Alwin’s arm, her fingers closing around it firmly. 

“Wait a minute… your name’s Alwin, right? Yeah, that’s right! You’re joining my club from now on!”

Alwin froze, surprised by the way her hand tightened around his arm. 

Something felt off. Despite her carefree attitude, Arya seemed a little too intent on keeping him from jumping. Her grip tightened as he tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let go.

“A face like that would be such a waste if it dies,” Arya said, pulling him harder. “So come on, hurry up! It’s too late for you to be standing around here.”

Alwin’s tall frame was jerked forward as she dragged him toward the rooftop exit. 

Just as they reached it, the door rattled, someone trying to break through from the other side.

“Ugh, what a mess,” Arya muttered, clearly annoyed. “If you really wanted to off yourself, do it at home. At least then it wouldn’t cause such a scene. Make a big fuss at your own place until you actually do it, for crying out loud!”

Alwin shrugged nonchalantly. "They're the ones overreacting. I wasn’t planning on doing anything," he protested.

"Well, don't go trying to kill yourself here next time," Arya said, her voice laced with a strange mix of annoyance and concern. "You’ll just end up causing trouble around the academy."

"Yeah, well, that's your problem, not mine!" Alwin shot back.

"This is a private academy, you know," Arya continued, her tone sharp. "If there's a suicide here, no one's going to want to send their kids. It won’t look good."

"Still your problem," Alwin replied, unfazed.

"Ugh, you’re really impossible!" Arya muttered, but there was a hint of emotion beneath her calm demeanor. "You know, my business will be lonely if you die, you bastard."

Alwin raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You should join my club," Arya said with a big grin. "It’s guaranteed to be fun!"

"What club?"

"Azari Dating Club. Ever heard of it? Oh, wait, right, you’ve been asleep for two years. This club’s super famous around here! It’s exclusive—only the coolest, most beautiful people can join. You should be thankful I recruited you directly."

Alwin blinked, still confused. "What club is this, exactly?"

Arya leaned in with a sly smile. "In short... we run a hired partner business. My club provides people to chat with, watch movies with, or just hang out. We hire out girlfriends and boyfriends for all sorts of social reasons."

Alwin stared at her, trying to process what she just said. "Wait... you mean I’ll get paid to be a hired boyfriend?"

"Yup," Arya answered with a shrug.

Alwin glanced at Arya, his expression indifferent. "Does my face look like I need money?"

Arya paused for a moment, inspecting Alwin's face with a more serious gaze. 

"No, not really. But you do need to connect with the outside world. This club could be the perfect escape from your routine and stress. Besides, being a host here might introduce you to new people and ideas that could change your perspective on life."

Alwin scoffed. "Bullshit," he muttered, clearly uninterested.

Before Arya could respond, the loud crash of the rooftop door being broken down echoed through the air. 

The sound of heavy boots followed, and soon a group of firefighters rushed onto the rooftop. 

Their expressions were serious, clearly prepared for a tense situation.

"Freeze!" one of the officers shouted, stepping forward with his hands up, ready for action.

Alwin sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

Arya looked at the scene in confusion, then panicked. "Wait, why am I getting arrested? I wasn’t the one standing on the edge! He was the one looking like he was about to jump!"

The officers ignored her protest and quickly moved to restrain both Alwin and Arya. 

One of the firefighters turned to Arya with a stern expression. "We have to do this for security reasons."

With that, they escorted the pair down the emergency stairs, making sure to attract as much attention as possible. 

The other students watched the scene unfold, some recording it, others whispering among themselves.

                                          *

Free Read Sample THE UNMADE (a disciplinary diary) A Dark Psychological Thriller Body Horror

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CONTENT WARNING 18++

This book contains mature themes and graphic content that may be disturbing to some readers.

Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Please prioritize your mental health and well-being.

If these themes may trigger trauma or cause distress, we encourage you to consider whether this book is right for you at this time.

 

 

Prologue

I used to wear the sentence 

they will leave me because I am not enough

like a coat two sizes too small—

every goodbye tightening the seams,

every silence proof I should shrink.

I counted myself in deficits.

Too much. Not quite. Almost.

A math problem where I was always the mistake.

I checked my ribs.

My voice.

My gentleness.

Then it hit.

What if it wasn’t a flaw,

but a luxury item,

and they were shopping with empty hands?

Because not everyone who touches gold

knows how to hold it.

Chapter 1

The silence hit harder than the electricity. My heart hammered against my ribs like something trying to escape. 

The steel table seemed to vibrate beneath me. I was wrecked. My mind was an empty, echoing chamber.

They took my eyes first. Not with hands, but with technology that felt criminal. 

The edges molded to my cheekbones and sealed the world away behind polished black. 

Then came the suction. 

Negative pressure kissed my eye sockets until vision collapsed into velvet darkness. I saw nothing.

Then my ears. Foam pushed deep, plugging out all sound. 

My own pulse became monstrous and amplified, pounding inside a coffin. 

I tried to speak, but the gag swallowed my voice. A silicone plug fused to straps welded beneath my jaw.

I was locked onto the restraint frame. A fixed horizontal slab of slick black polymer. 

My position was absolute: flat on my back, arms and legs spread wide like a specimen mounted for inspection. 

My back arched painfully, forcing my diaphragm upward and locking my breath into shallow, frantic gasps. 

My wrists and legs were wrenched into a maximal stretch. The pressure on my shoulders and thighs screamed.

Heat began to build in my lower pelvis, radiating from the pressure of the probe.

The voice came last. Not Ardent's. The machine's.

"Sensory inhibition complete. Neural stimulation commencing."

I sensed the final intrusion. Something blunt, oiled, and patient pressed against me. 

I grunted and thrashed in a desperate reflex. The steel ratchets on the spreader bars bit into my skin with sharp bruises. 

The blunt head pushed forward, then sank with a hydraulic sigh. 

It entered slowly, stretching me until I burned. The anal probe was a cylinder of metallic warmth packed with electrodes. 

It forced my spine into that painful arch and ignited a deep internal fire.

The shock came everywhere at once. Chest to cock to ass to brainstem. 

A net of lightning yanked my body into a single, screaming chord. 

My muscles seized and locked solid. Drool burst past the gag in white froth. 

I gagged on my own heartbeat, choking on air that wouldn't stay in my lungs.

 

The day before, my body had failed me. It rattled against the frame like a puppet jerked by lightning. 

Thick drool pooled behind the gag. I tried to roar, but the cloth caught the sound and turned it into a wet gurgle. 

Back then, I thought that was the worst it could get.

I woke to white light. Not soft, but weaponized. Light sliced across chrome walls like scalpel blades. 

Everything gleamed like polished bone. My throat tasted of antiseptic and iron. 

My limbs felt heavy, anchored by matte-black leather restraints that bit into my skin.

Footsteps cut through the hum of machines. Precise. Unhurried.

Then he appeared. Dr. Ardent. He looked like a predator in sterile skin. 

His white coat fit like a funeral shroud over gloves as black as oil.

"Mr. Vey," he said. His voice was smooth as an engine.

My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth. I closed my eyes. 

For a second, the white room vanished. I saw flashing bulbs on the red carpet. 

I heard my mother's frantic whispers, reminding me to smile because the mortgage was due.

I was the Golden Boy. Since the day my father walked out, I had been the fix. 

I was the paycheck that kept my siblings fed and the lights on. 

I worked until my soul felt like frayed wire. I pushed through exhaustion with pills, then more pills to sleep. 

The Golden Boy became just a shell held together by chemicals. 

I had tried to end the noise once—thinking of hotel nooses and bathtub pills—but even my death would have been too expensive for my family to afford.

"You understand why you're here," Ardent continued, breaking my trance. "Detox isn't punishment. It's precision. We remove the noise."

I choked out a dry laugh. "Noise? It's screaming static. A constant tear in my brain."

"Exactly," he whispered. "The boy the world used. The boy who carried a family on his back until he broke. We are going to erase that version of you."

The straps cinched over my wrists, pulling them wide above my head until my shoulders burned. 

Polymer cuffs clamped my thighs and ankles. I was spread wide, opened like a book no one asked me to write.

Ardent peeled away my clinic gown. He moved with mechanical patience. 

"Baseline contact points—nipples, penile root, perineal access." Servo arms slithered down from the ceiling like chrome vipers.

When the first disc touched my skin, it was freezing. Electrodes clamped down. 

A low current hummed, and my chest seized. My muscles twitched violently.

He applied lube. Clinical, odorless, obscene. He wrapped my member in a polymer sheath coiled with conductive threads. 

It was snug like a second skin. It cinched at the base with a hiss. The lock clicked.

The hum in the table deepened. A jolt stole my breath and hit my system. 

My hips arched upward against the spreader bars, then slammed back down as the current ebbed.

"Good," Ardent said softly. "That is coherence. You'll learn to crave it."

I jerked against the cuffs. My mind flashed to my mother and sisters—the people I had destroyed myself to save. "Go to hell."

"Hell," Ardent said, leaning closer, "is loud. It's the sound of people needing things from you. We are going to make you quiet."