Lies to Yourself

"You really almost did it this time." Oliver says with a sarcastic smile, his pink eyes shining with amusement.

Boscha, still panting, leans on her knees, feeling the sweet taste of semen in her mouth. Her body aches, every muscle begging her to stop. But her pride screams louder.

"You bastard!" she growls through clenched teeth, her eyes burning with fury. "Next time, I'll get it!"

Oliver just raises an eyebrow, his smile widening.

"Okay, Boscha… Stop acting."

The change in tone takes her by surprise. What?

"W-What are you talking about?" — his voice wavers.

Oliver stands up slowly, his movements firm. He moves closer, forcing her to look up. With a firm gesture, he takes her chin between his fingers, tilting her face slightly upward.

"You're a competitor, Boscha." His voice is firm, but not provocative. It's a fact. "For you, winning isn't enough. What really satisfies you is seeing others lose."

She swallows hard. Something inside her twists, but her pride reacts first. With a sudden movement, she tries to turn her face away, but Oliver doesn't allow it.

"So what?" she spits out the words, her jaw clenched. "I know I'm the best, no matter what anyone else says!"

Oliver lets out a low, almost amused laugh.

"Wrong." His eyes lock with hers, piercing. "Your ego is so big that you need validation from others to feel 'best.' Without it, you don't exist."

The impact of those words hits hard, but Boscha reacts impulsively, standing up abruptly. Pain spreads through her body in a cruel wave, but she ignores it.

"THAT'S A LIE!"

Oliver doesn't even blink. He just watches her with that annoying calm.

"Really?" He crosses his arms. "Then why do you want my validation?"

Bosch grass.

""W-What? Why would I need approval from a loser like you!?"

"Why, even after everything, you don't care about the video." He shakes his head slightly. "You don't care about being completely naked in front of a boy you 'hate'."

Boscha's heart hammers in her chest. The humiliation should consume her. The rage should be unbearable. But… Oliver is right.

"All you want now…" he continues, a slight smile appearing on his lips. "Is to wipe that little smile off my face and prove to me that you're the best."

Her breathing becomes irregular.

That is not true.

But if it was a lie… Why hadn't she come up with a plan all this time to get the scroll?

As if reading his mind, Oliver lifts one of his tentacles and brings a parchment in front of him, leaving it on the wooden bench.

"If you take this scroll, you can delete the video and hide your shame from hundreds of people." — His voice is still low, controlled. "But for that, you'll have to admit that you lost to me."

Boscha feels her muscles tense as she takes a step forward, her hand rising almost by reflex. But before her fingers can touch the parchment, Oliver speaks again.

"Or…" — he tilts his head slightly, studying her. "You can try to beat me at my own game in 13 minutes and prove, on your own merits, that you are superior to me."

Time seems to drag on. Boscha's heart pounds against her ribs. She feels every drop of sweat running down her skin, every sharp pain in her body.

Her fingers tremble in the air, hesitant. The easiest path lies before her.

But easy was never enough.

His three eyes reflect confusion for a brief moment… until something in them changes. Determination.

Slowly, she lowers her hand and stares at Oliver steadily.

"What's the game?"