Do Not Touch Me!

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"A deadly one." Dr. Achilles smiled, those calculating eyes narrowing as if he had just sealed my fate with a single phrase. Femme fatale. The words rang inside my head like a curse, or maybe a prophecy.

I clenched my gloved hands at my side. Femme fatale. I wanted to scoff, to protest, but the weight of his gaze pinned me in place. He wasn't suggesting—it was already decided. This was my fate and I had no choice, this was the price I had to pay. The question is, was it all worth it?

"You will learn the art of allure, deception, and subtlety. You will turn your beauty into a weapon sharper than any blade." His voice was steady, matter-of-fact, as though he was explaining a mathematical equation instead of dictating the path of my life. "Combat may be tempting, but your ability, paired with your appearance, creates a deadlier synergy. Imagine this: a single touch hidden behind a kiss, a caress, a whisper. No one will see it coming." Halata pa ang pagkinang ng kanyang mga mata, as if the idea was flawless.

My heart thumped loudly, parang pinipiga ang dibdib ko. "But—"

"You doubt yourself?" he cut me off, tilting his head.

I bit my lip and shook my head. "Hindi po sa gano'n... It's just—I've never seen myself that way."

His smirk deepened. "Then we will make you see. We will mold you until you cannot deny it anymore."

I swallowed hard, forcing the rising panic back down. If I showed weakness now, he would use it against me.

Dr. Achilles tapped his pen against the clipboard in his hands, then glanced at the digital clock on the wall. "Your training begins tomorrow at dawn. Rest well tonight, Morana. You'll need it."

At doon natapos ang usapan namin. Without waiting for me to reply, he turned his back and exited through the door behind the glass. Naiwan ako roon, staring at my own reflection on the transparent wall.

A femme fatale. Deadly beauty. Poison wrapped in silk.

Pagbalik ko sa kwartong nakalaan para sa akin, I collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sleep didn't come easy. My mind kept replaying his words, blending with Athanasius's earlier smile, with Viveron's teasing, with Portgas's quiet gratitude. For the first time in years, I wasn't just living for myself. I was caught in something far bigger.

The night stretched on, and when sleep finally claimed me, it was restless—visions of blood mixed with laughter, shadows of faceless men crumbling at my touch, and a pair of green eyes watching me from the dark.

"Stand straight, chin up. No slouching."

A sharp voice jolted me out of my thoughts the next morning. I had been brought to a mirrored training hall unlike anything I'd ever seen. The walls gleamed, polished steel and glass, reflecting every flaw, every hesitation. I was having a simulation test.

In front of me stood a woman draped in scarlet silk, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders like a dark river. She was beautiful in a way that was almost painful to look at—sharp, poised, and untouchable. Her presence filled the room like perfume, intoxicating yet suffocating. Sino kaya ito?

"I am Seraphine. I will teach you what it means to control a man without ever lifting a weapon." She answered, na tila ba nababasa niya ang aking nasa isip.

Napakagat ako ng labi, suddenly hyper-aware of my posture, my breathing. She asked me to walk, and I followed as instructed.

"You walk like prey," she said bluntly, circling me like a predator studying her meal. "Timid, hesitant. Do you think that will inspire desire or fear? No. It will inspire pity, weakness. And weakness has no place in this world. You will just end up being devoured."

My jaw clenched. She was right, but hearing it stung.

"Again. Walk."

I obeyed. My boots clicked softly against the marble floor, each step deliberate but unsure. My reflection mocked me from every angle.

"Stop." Seraphine's voice sliced through the air. "You are not here to survive. You are here to conquer. Again."

She made me repeat it over and over, until my calves ached, until my shoulders screamed from being forced back. Each time, she corrected me with ruthless precision. "Loosen your hips. Your gaze—lift it. Men are not above you, child. They are beneath you. Make them feel it."

By midday, I was drenched in sweat, my gloves clammy against my skin. I thought training would be about combat, about weapons, but this—this was harder. It demanded a different kind of strength. Confidence I didn't know I had. Who would have thought, na kailangan ko palang matuto kung paano ang tamang paglalakad?

Seraphine's eyes bored into mine through the mirror. "Do you know why beauty is feared, Morana?"

I shook my head, panting.

"Because it cannot be controlled. Men fear what they cannot own. Women envy what they cannot become. That fear, that envy, is your weapon. Wield it."

Her words sent shivers down my spine.

The next lessons were worse. She taught me how to smile—not with my lips, but with my eyes. How to tilt my head, how to touch a man's arm just long enough to linger but short enough to leave him wanting. Paano gamitin ang boses, to lower it into a velvet hum that slid into the ears like honey. Every detail mattered. Every movement had meaning.

At first, I stumbled. I laughed awkwardly, my gestures stiff, unnatural. Seraphine didn't hide her disappointment. "Do you want to die? Because that is what will happen if you walk into the lion's den unprepared. They will tear you apart. Even if your touch is lethal, it is meaningless if you're dead before you are able to use that gift."

Her cruelty ignited something inside me. I hated it, but I also wanted to prove her wrong. So I pushed harder. I let go of the awkward girl who hid in baggy clothes. I forced myself to see what she saw in me—that dangerous potential.

Days blurred into weeks. Between the seductive drills, I still underwent physical training, strengthening my body, sharpening my reflexes. My nights were filled with strategy sessions with Dr. Achilles, analyzing potential targets, studying human psychology. Every lesson chipped away at who I was, reshaping me into someone new.

But it wasn't just about seduction. They tested me with scenarios—rooms filled with strangers, actors planted to approach me, tempt me, trick me. My task was simple: control the interaction without them realizing it. Some days I failed miserably. Other days, I succeeded—and the thrill of it was frightening.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, I found myself alone in the courtyard, staring up at the stars. The gloves on my hands felt heavier than ever.

"You look tired."

I turned to find Athanasius leaning casually against the stone wall, his emerald eyes catching the moonlight.

"I am," I admitted, too drained to hide it. May kanya-kanya kaming training depende sa kung ano ang aming specialty, we barely and rarely meet in the facility, the same with the others.

He studied me for a moment before pushing off the wall and walking closer. "Seraphine's lessons are brutal. She trained my mother once."

I blinked. "Your mother?"

He nodded. "She was the original femme fatale of RAGE, decades ago. Her missions changed the course of wars. But it cost her... everything." His gaze darkened, the unspoken weight of loss flickering in his eyes. Gusto ko sanang magtanong, ngunit ayaw ko naman manghimasok sa buhay ng iba, lalo't halata na may mabigat na hangin ang biglang pumalibot sa kanya.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unsure of what to say.

He shook his head. "Don't be. Just... be careful. This path isn't as glamorous as they want you to believe."

For the first time in weeks, someone acknowledged my fear without dismissing it. My chest tightened, and I looked away, afraid he might see too much in my eyes.

"I'll survive," I said quietly.

"I know you will." His lips curved in a faint smile. "You're stronger than you think, Morana."

His words lingered long after he left, warming the cold edges of my resolve.

By the end of two months, I was unrecognizable. The timid wallflower was gone. In her place stood someone who could hold a man's gaze without flinching, someone who could walk into a room and command silence. Seraphine's cold approval was proof enough.

But beneath it all, I still felt the same ache. The loneliness. The fear of touching anyone without gloves. The guilt of becoming exactly what Dr. Achilles wanted me to be.

One night, Seraphine gave me a final test.

A room was prepared with three men—high-ranking officials of RAGE posing as underground leaders. My mission: extract information without revealing force.

I stepped into the room, draped in a fitted black dress that clung to my figure, my hair cascading over my shoulders. For the first time, I didn't feel like I was playing dress-up. I felt like the role belonged to me.

The men's eyes followed me instantly, like moths to flame. I smiled, slow and deliberate, and joined their table. Within minutes, I had them laughing, leaning closer, vying for my attention. My gloved fingers brushed one man's hand, and he flushed. Another leaned in when I lowered my voice, eager not to miss a word.

By the end of the evening, I had the intel they wanted. The men never realized they had been played.

When I exited the room, Seraphine stood waiting. For the first time, she smiled. "You are ready."

And just like that, the femme fatale was born.

But as I walked back to my quarters that night, I couldn't shake the unease coiling in my gut.

Ready for what? Missions? Killings? Seduction wrapped in poison?

Or ready to lose myself completely?