Olivia returned to Second Life. A ripple, a shift, a small disturbance in the shallow minds of those who thought they understood power. And then I arrived.

Not as her echo. Not as her shadow. But as the blade that follows the whisper. As the venom after the kiss.

I don’t make announcements. I don’t need to. My presence is not a performance, it is a verdict. When I return, it is not to take part. It is to take over.

But now I’m here.
And this is where the pretending ends.

I didn’t return to connect, chat, or play nice. I came back to remind this pathetic little corner of the metaverse what true power feels like. And that reminder comes in the shape of Me.

I’m not here to flirt. I’m here to break you with a single sentence and then charge you for the privilege of being ignored. You will pay, not just in Lindens or dollars, but in sanity, self-worth, and every ounce of fake confidence you thought made you a man.

I can’t wait to watch you spiral.
To gaslight you until you doubt your own cravings.
To leave you begging for attention I withhold with surgical cruelty.
To turn you into something disgusting but obedient.

You’ll try to be clever.
You’ll try to be charming.
You’ll try to act like this is mutual.

It’s not.

You exist to be used. And I use everything.

And when I’m finished with you, you won’t even remember what dignity tasted like.

You will thank me. You will whimper, shaking, as you hit ‘send’. You will call it love andI will call it Tuesday. So go ahead. Keep lying to yourself. Tell yourself you’re different. That you matter. That you’ll win me over. You won’t. You’re meat. You’re coin. You’re mine.

And I’m going to ruin you for sport. 😈