Chapter 20: The One Who’s Name Was Never Theirs

They were never just one or the other.

Victor Victoria. That was what they were called. Not by choice, not by affection, but as a cruel joke that refused to die.

Their birth name? Forgotten. Lost in the cracks of their childhood, swallowed whole by taunts and whispers. Their parents had given them a name, surely—but it never left anyone's lips. Instead, they were left with something that did not belong to them, something that others spat out with sneers and laughter.

Boy or girl? They never had the answer. And the world did not take kindly to uncertainty.

They learned quickly that people despised what they could not categorize. Teachers corrected them when they stood in the wrong line. Strangers stared, eyes filled with confusion or disgust. Their classmates made a game of it, pushing them toward one side and then the other, just to watch them stumble.

"You should pick already," they'd say, grinning. "Or do we have to do it for you?"

But how could they pick something that had never felt like theirs?

---

They were nine years old the night they learned what it meant to be truly alone.

The game had started like any other—a cruel test of loyalty masked as friendship.

"Let's play hide and seek," someone suggested, and Victor Victoria, wanting so badly to belong, agreed. They ran into the trees, heart pounding, leaves crunching beneath their feet.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No one came.

Their "friends" had never been seeking.

The forest was darker than they'd ever seen it. The air was thick, heavy with the sounds of things moving where they couldn't see. They hugged their knees to their chest, fighting the panic rising in their throat.

Then—

A growl.

It rumbled low and deep, vibrating through the ground, through their bones. A shadow moved between the trees, slow and deliberate. Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, locked onto them.

This was it.

After everything, after all the cruelty and confusion and endless questions, they were going to die.

They wanted to cry, but they were too tired. What had they done to deserve this? Was what they looked like really so sinful? Was the world so determined to erase them?

The beast stepped closer.

And then—

It stopped.

It sniffed the air, its massive head tilting. And then, instead of lunging, instead of tearing them apart, it did something that no human had ever done.

It approached with patience.

Care.

Respect.

Victor Victoria exhaled a shaky breath. The fear in their chest began to loosen, their body uncoiling just slightly. It wasn't here to hurt them.

It was here to see them.

They didn't know when the tears started, only that once they began, they didn't stop. The beast didn't turn away. It didn't recoil. It simply watched, steady and calm, allowing them the space to break apart.

For the first time, they felt understood.

A smile, small but real, began to form on their lips—

Boom.

A gunshot tore through the night.

The beast crumpled to the ground.

Victor Victoria's breath hitched, the warmth in their chest extinguished in an instant. Blood seeped into the dirt, dark and endless. The creature's body shuddered, a broken exhale slipping past its fangs. Its eyes, once so full of something unspoken, began to dim.

Their own body wouldn't move. They could only watch as footsteps crunched closer.

"Waste of a bullet," a voice muttered. "Fur's too mangy."

A hunter. Just a man. Just a human. He barely even glanced at them, barely even acknowledged that they existed. He was already turning away, irritated, like none of this had mattered. Like the beast had never mattered. Like they had never mattered.

Something inside Victor Victoria cracked.

They turned back to the beast. To the only thing that had ever treated them with dignity. And as they looked into its fading eyes, a realization settled deep within them—colder and sharper than anything they had ever felt before.

Humans were the problem.

Not beasts.

And they would do anything—anything—to make sure the world understood that.

---

Years passed.

They never forgot the lesson they learned that night. They never forgot what it felt like to be seen, to be acknowledged, only for it to be ripped away by something cruel and indifferent.

They fought for the beasts in ways the world would never understand. They watched the war unfold, fury mounting as the creatures they had sworn to protect continued to lose.

And then, one day, they saw them.

A group of four. Two twins, one merchant, and… her.

Erica Wiley.

Victor Victoria had watched her from the shadows, observed the way she carried herself with a sharp tongue and ease, how she seemed to move through life without care or consequence. They envied her. Wanted to know how it felt to be like her. Wanted to keep her.

And so, they decided.

They would reveal themselves.

They would win.

They would take what they wanted.

And this time, no one would take anything from them.