Match

The smell of alcohol had soaked into the walls. It never left, no matter how long I kept the window open. Cold air poured in, but it didn’t help. It only mixed with it, making the stench hit me even harder, like it was being blown straight into my face.

I was on all fours, scrubbing at a stain that had already settled deep into the carpet. It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Tomorrow, it would happen again.

Behind me, the floor creaked. That alone was enough to make me turn.

“You know there’s no point cleaning this house,” my father said.

His voice was thick and sluggish… the way it always was. I could feel his breath before I even fully faced him, the same sour, heavy smell that filled the rest of the house.

I didn’t answer right away. I wrung the cloth one last time before setting it aside. “If I didn’t, this place would’ve rotted a long time ago.”

He let out a short laugh. Without a trace of humor. “You’re just like her.”

It stung, but not the way it used to... Not anymore.

I didn’t turn around. “Don’t talk about her.”

There was a brief silence, and then I flinched at the sharp sound of a bottle hitting the table a little too hard.

“You think you’re different,” he went on. “That you can do whatever you want…”

“I haven’t done anything.” I didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or if he was actually clear in that moment.

With him, there was never any way to tell.

“No.” He leaned closer, his foul breath hitting me full in the face. “And that’s exactly what’s keeping you alive.”

My eyes drifted toward the door, where a parchment scroll still lay on the floor. It was a letter for me. It matched my age.

I had recognized it immediately when it was pushed through the crack beneath the door. The same dirty-yellow parchment everyone received. Nothing in those scrolls was handwritten, only printed with perfect precision, completely devoid of personality.

I had known what it was before opening it... Still, I had waited.

“You didn’t even open it right away,” he said. “As if it would change if you just left it there.”

I walked over, picked it up, and turned it in my hand. The paper was thick, and the familiar black ribbon was tied around it, the ribbon that could only mean one thing: follow what’s written here, or you won’t be alive by next week. (If you’re lucky enough to last that long.)

“It doesn’t make any difference,” I said.

“It makes all the difference. It matters.”

I unrolled the parchment without looking at him and smoothed it out on the table. The paper felt heavier than usual, as if this one meant more.

My father was watching me now. He even pulled out a chair and sat down, as if he expected me to read the letter out loud.

So I did, before he had a chance to get angry. He was often angry.

“To Cael. Based on your results and evaluations, and as you turn eighteen this year, you are hereby admitted to The Institute of Human Alignment.”

My father said nothing.

I continued, “Attendance is mandatory.”

No surprise there.

“Upon arrival, you will begin a two-year program designed to prepare you for your assigned function in society.” I felt the words tighten in my chest. “Your role has been designated as Guard.”

My father shifted slightly in his chair.

“Upon completion of your training, you will assume this position and carry out your duties in accordance with the organization’s needs.”

I forced myself to go on. “During the training period, you will be evaluated for genetic compatibility and assigned a match. Assignment is expected within two years. If no match is assigned, alternative regulations will apply.”

I paused for a moment, but the look he gave me made me continue. “Upon departure from your current residence, all ties will be considered terminated. Return is not expected.”

Neither of us said anything. We already knew that… Every settlement was surrounded by high walls, and new ones were being built all the time.

I kept reading. “You are responsible for bringing all necessary belongings. Failure to prepare does not exempt you from attendance.”

At the bottom of the page was a list. I glanced over it before reading it out loud:

“Required:

Clothing, Personal hygiene items, Two pairs of neutral footwear, One set of training clothes, and Identification card

Any medical needs must be reported upon arrival.”

I exhaled slowly before reading the final lines. “Arrival: 06:00, in two days.”

My voice had dropped now. “Location: The Institute of Human Alignment.” I turned the parchment slightly. “Route: Follow the northern path from your residence. Estimated travel time: three hours. Additional time is recommended.”

I lowered the page. “Delayed arrival will be recorded. Failure to appear will be considered a deviation, and severe consequences may follow.”

I stopped reading. The words lingered in the room, heavier than the smell of alcohol.

My father didn’t say anything at first, but I noticed it, the way he looked at me. As if he were surprised by the role I’d been given.

A Guard... So was I.

I had always heard that those positions were reserved for the physically strongest. But I had clearly been wrong.

“Then it’s settled,” he said at last. “You’ll do as you’re told.”

I set the paper down on the table. “Like always. Like I’ve done up until now.”

“Don’t get smart.”

“I’m not.”

He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “You remember what happened the last time we thought we had a choice.”

Something tightened in my chest. “We? You mean you.”

He looked at me. harder now. “It doesn’t matter which one of us it was.”

“It matters to me.”

The silence that followed was heavy. It left me sitting there, drifting into my own thoughts. And now this school, this was the next thing. The thing everyone spent their entire lives waiting for was a letter about. The thing everyone talked about as if it were something good.

I tried to picture it. This place was supposed to know what was best for me. The idea that somewhere out there, someone would be perfectly suited to me. Perfect. A perfect match, chosen by the Organization on instructions from the God who knew everything. Your perfect soulmate decided long before you ever had a say.

I couldn’t picture it at all.

“I don’t think there is anyone,” I said quietly.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged, but it didn’t feel careless. “A match… for me.”

The words felt out of place, maybe because I had never said them out loud before. “And me? I don’t even want a match… but at the same time, I’ll be marked if I don’t get one.”

He laughed again, almost dismissively. “No, you don’t want to be marked. The marked ones never came back. And remember, this isn’t something you believe in or don’t believe in.”

I looked at him. “It doesn’t feel that way. I still can’t understand how there could be a match for me out there, someone who would accept me for who I am… Do you understand?” I added.

I already knew I wouldn’t get a real answer from him. But there was no one else I could talk to about it.

He leaned forward. “You take what they give you,” he said simply. “You stay within the lines. And you don’t ask questions… because if you do... ”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

“Guard,” my father said quietly.

I didn’t respond.

The word didn’t feel like it belonged to me. All my life, I had wondered what role I would be given, and for some reason, I had always imagined something like a baker, anything ordinary.

Not this... Not Guard.

I had seen them before... Always at a distance. They stood straight, spoke little. And the rumors said they saw everything, or at least far more than anyone else.

No one spoke to them unless they had to.

I had never wanted to become one of them. But life was exactly the way my father always said it was; you didn’t get to decide what you wanted or didn’t want.

Things simply… became what they became.

I looked toward the window. It had grown so dark outside that I could faintly see my own reflection staring back at me in the glass.

It was just me... A future Guard.

My light blonde hair had fallen forward, partially covering my eyes, and my freckles stood out clearly against my skin, just as they always did.

There was only me in that reflection, like always.

When I was younger, I never questioned any of it. It was simply how the world worked. The boys lived on one side, and the girls existed somewhere else entirely. Not far away, that was what we were always told.

Just… not where we were.

The only person of the opposite sex I had ever seen in my entire life was my own mother.

We had our own designated areas... Our own schools. Everything was divided so early that it never had the chance to feel strange or unnatural.

That was the entire point... It was never supposed to feel strange.

We were taught the reasons behind it, too.

Not all at once, and never in the form of a story. It was more like a rule that was repeated so many times that it eventually settled into your body and your mind, until it felt as natural as breathing.

The rules themselves were simple:

You were to keep your distance from girls, and you were not to seek them out. If you were unfortunate enough to encounter one, you were required to maintain at least one meter of distance at all times.

We were not allowed to ask questions about it. And we were absolutely not allowed to test those rules.

So naturally, I had never seen a girl.

Of course, I had seen pictures of them, and now and then I had caught myself imagining what they might be like in real life. But that was as far as it ever went.

I still remember the first time one of the teachers tried to show us what could happen if we ever came into contact with someone of the opposite sex.

He didn’t show us directly. They never did anything directly. It was as if everything they told us had already been decided by someone far above them, and they were only there to repeat it.

Instead, the teacher told us a story.

It was about a boy from the school who had escaped by climbing over the wall and making his way to where the girls lived. It had taken him a long time to get across.

The rumors said he had spent an entire night doing it, and that he had planned it carefully, figuring out how to pass the guards without being seen.

According to the story, the girls had screamed when he approached them.

And one of them had not managed to get away from him in time.

The teachers told it in a calm, measured voice, almost completely without emotion, as if they were presenting facts rather than recounting something that had actually happened.

We were also told what had happened afterward.

That it had never ended well, and that it was never worth it... After that, no one tried... At least not in my class.

I had never seen a girl up close.

Only from a distance, sometimes.

A movement behind fences when we had been ordered to stand completely still. Shadows on the other side of areas we weren’t allowed to enter.

The only ones of the opposite sex we were ever allowed near were our own family and the match we would be assigned once we were old enough.

The closest most of us ever got was siblings or our own mother. For me, it had only ever been my mother... I had no siblings.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment and thought of her. She hadn’t smelled like alcohol. She had smelled… the way a parent is supposed to smell. I couldn’t remember exactly what it had been like anymore. Only that it hadn’t been like this.

I opened my eyes again and looked over at my father. He had fallen asleep in the chair like he always did. The bottle still hung loosely in his hand.

I let my gaze linger there for a moment before looking away. Then I thought about the new school I was supposed to start.

I caught myself hoping: quietly, almost carefully, that it might be better than this. Better than what I had here.

But I doubted it.

I had never really had any friends. Only the boys I had shared a classroom with. People I spoke to because I had to, not because I wanted to.

I had never met anyone I missed when I went home, and I had never met anyone who would notice if I disappeared.

It had been two years since I last attended school. In the time since, while I waited for the letter, I had stayed here, taking care of my father.

I went to the nearest market I was allowed to visit, trading and buying what we needed. My father wasn’t capable of working, and the organization provided us with a small monthly allowance.

Just enough to survive, and never more than that.

I knew why my father respected the organization the way he did.

Especially after what happened to my mother.

After she died, because of a mistake he had made, he had never been the same. That was when the drinking had started.

He had given himself over to the organization completely after that. It was where the money came from, after all. And if he didn’t follow the rules… Something worse would happen.

And when I thought about it, I realized something else... I was the same, because if you stood against the organization...

Your life was already over.