Chapter 21 – The Denial of Flesh
King's POV
The sterile scent of the private clinic greeted him like an old adversary. Polished floors, humming machines, and quiet glances from staff who knew better than to speak when he walked in.
Dr. Myles was already waiting. A man in his late sixties, silver-haired, no-nonsense. He had been King's personal physician for more than fifteen years—the only one who knew the brutal truth of King Albanian's condition.
King sat down without a word, his jaw tight.
"You're back early," Dr. Myles said, folding his hands. "I assume this isn't just a routine checkup."
King leaned back in the leather chair. "Run the test."
Myles blinked. "Again?"
"I need to know."
With a quiet nod, the doctor called in his assistant. Blood. Hormones. Neurological reflexes. They took it all. Within twenty minutes, the results printed out in harsh black ink.
Myles frowned, studying them. "It's the same, King. No changes. Testosterone baseline flat. Hormonal response minimal. Neurological feedback—still dormant. The damage from years ago still—"
"I had sex," King interrupted flatly.
Myles looked up slowly. "What?"
King's eyes didn't flinch. "With a woman. Multiple times. No medication. No inducement. No trigger protocol. Just her."
The room fell into a deep silence.
"You're saying your body reacted naturally?" Myles asked.
"I'm saying," King said, "that something in me came alive the moment she touched me. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. My body didn't hesitate."
"That's... biologically impossible." Myles leaned back, staring. "You've been unresponsive for years. Psychosomatic barriers aside, your physical pathways were inactive. It's not something that just—heals."
"I felt her," King murmured. "In every sense. It wasn't clinical. It was instinct. Fire. Heat. Pain and peace. My hands, my mind, everything responded as if I was never broken."
Dr. Myles stood up, pacing. "You said with a woman… Where is she now? I want to run a comparative test. See if her presence was the variable."
"She's gone," King said bitterly. "She disappeared the morning after. Left only her name."
"And her name is?"
"Valerie."
Dr. Myles muttered something under his breath. "You need to try again."
King's eyes narrowed. "With who?"
"With another woman. Controlled setting. If your body responds again, then maybe something really has changed. But if not, then we'll know it was purely psychological—triggered by her, by fantasy, or adrenaline."
King stood, slowly. "You think I imagined this?"
"I think you experienced something real—but the why matters. If this woman flipped a biological switch inside you, then we need to understand how. Because up until now, you've been..."
"Impotent," King finished for him, coldly.
Myles didn't correct him.
King walked to the window, staring out into the gray skyline. The city moved beneath him, unaware that the most powerful man in it was now burning with the memory of a woman he couldn't find—and a mystery inside his own body that made no sense.
"I'll try again," he said. "Not because I want to. But because I need to know if it was her—or me."
He paused. "Find me someone. Anyone."
"Okay, but don't expect her to be Valerie."
---
King's POV
The room was too warm. The lights too gentle. The woman too beautiful in a way that didn't move him at all.
She stepped closer, her figure wrapped in the finest silk, confidence blooming in her gaze. Her every step was measured, her every breath deliberate. She had been chosen carefully—background checked, medically cleared, discreet.
She knew who he was. She knew what this was.
"Mr. Albanian," she said softly, "I understand why I'm here. We don't have to rush. You've been through a lot. I'll take care of everything."
She reached up and gently placed a hand on his chest. Her fingers trailed down his sternum like a slow waterfall, seeking a response.
Nothing.
She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his neck.
Still nothing.
King's jaw clenched.
She pressed closer. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, trying to recreate the heat that once existed between two people.
Nothing.
Not even a flicker.
A scream echoed inside him, loud and furious.
"STOP!" King roared, stepping back violently. "Get your hands off me."
The woman froze, startled. "I—I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
King turned, his fists shaking. His entire body was trembling—not from fear, not from disgust—but from a hollow rage that came with realizing something terrifying.
Valerie was the only one.
He turned toward the door and shoved it open with a force that slammed it into the wall.
Wayne, who had been posted outside, looked up sharply.
"Take her away," King barked. "Now."
The woman, now visibly shaken, gathered her things silently and left without a word. King slammed the door shut behind her. The echo felt like it cracked his ribs from the inside.
---
Scene Shift – Medical Wing
King stood in front of Dr. Myles like a storm barely restrained.
"No arousal. No neurological activity. Not a single drop of response," the doctor confirmed, flipping through the biometric data. "She was fully compatible, mentally and physically. But… nothing."
King didn't speak. His fingers curled tighter around the glass of water in his hand.
"She's the only one," Dr. Myles finally said. "That girl. Whoever she was… She broke your limits."
"Then I want you to forget this ever happened," King said in a low, commanding tone. "Scrub the footage. Erase the records. If my grandfather hears—"
"I understand," Dr. Myles nodded. "Complete confidentiality."
King turned toward the window, watching the evening sun sink behind the capital skyline.
"She didn't heal me," he said, almost to himself. "She awakened me. And now she's gone."
Silence settled, thick and heavy.
The doctor cleared his throat. "Shall I attempt another compatibility trial in a few weeks?"
King didn't answer. His mind was far, far away—back on the mountain, by the river, where a fragile girl once collapsed in his arms.
---